#five way FaceTime call

[paradoxunknown]

Nah cause the more I think about it…

I know DAMN WELL that the ENTIRE BCC were scheming in the group chat like a bunch of SICKOS. EVERYONES ideas pinging back and forth with his Lordship like ping pong balls.

Better yet, you know damn well Mox & Bryan had Regal, Yuta, and Claudio on a fucking conference call planning ideas too.

[leyavo]

Ghost getting badly injured during a mission that they have to call his next of kin.

Next of kin?? What do you mean next of kin.

Mrs Riley?! He doesn’t wear a wedding band to protect you. Not even at home, worried there’ll be a mark to show he sometimes wears one.

It’s then that the TF 141 find out he’s married to you. They’re all wondering what you’re like, convinced you must be in the same line of work.

You’ve been married for six years, only to be called if it’s serious like now.

Soap’s jaw is on the floor as you walk into the infirmary, you don’t even glance their way as you rush to Simon’s bedside. Your hand on his chest as you lean down to kiss his forehead and brush back his hair.

You’re well put together, a lightweight robe layered over jeans and a simple vest. Pops of colour on your olive thick framed glasses and golden wedged heels. Hair pinned back with a pencil, leather bag overpacked with a book, filofax, purse and little cosmetic bag.

Price introduces himself, shaking your hand. A dainty diamond ring sparkling on your finger. Your silver bangles jingle as you greet each man, repeating their names and they know Ghost has not told you anything about them.

All he told you is that he likes working alone, but sometimes works with others.

You stay at the base for a while till he’s well enough to travel home. Eating with him and the guys in the canteen, they’re still staring at Simon like he’s grown another head. Watching you two squabble about little things.

“Do not put that shit on my plate,” Simon grumbled.

“It’s broccoli not a bomb.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, shoulder bumping into his arm as you try to move him along in the line.

The art director job you have takes you all around the world, sometimes you get to meet up with your husband. Simon treating it like a mission in itself, you playing along as you talk to him over the phone as you walk the cobbled streets to see him. “Target engaged, moving in,” you whisper as you spot him standing outside a coffee shop.

FaceTiming him whilst he’s at base so you can show him the little trinket you found in an antique store. He’s laying down in his bed, headphones on so no one hears.

“Nearly the same age as you luv.” Anything to see that little poutie face and brows furrowed. He loves teasing you that you are older than him, but it backfires whenever he complains at his body aching. “You’re supposed to be young and spry.”

Being a couple years older than Simon, you’ve got your shit together. Which drew Simon to you. Both no nonsense, say what you feel and work it out. No games, no silent treatment.

“Watch your tone Si, you’re not in the army here. You’re home so don’t give me that shit.”

“Watch my tone, luv. You just flooded the bathroom!”

“You distracted me!”

“Why don’t I get some towels and we both sort it out.”

Once Simon’s fully recovered, you invite his team to stay at your shared home together for the weekend.

A cottage in the countryside, there’s an eclectic mix of vintage furniture and textiles. That one rug Simon shipped back from Morocco in the living room. Paintings, pottery and sculptures scattered around the rooms. Rocky, a German Shepard trailing after you as you give them a tour of the place.

You make friends with Price’s wife who’s around the same age as you. Even try to set Gaz up with a client you think he’d get on with. Bond with Soap telling him you lived in Scotland as a late teen where you had your first art assistant job there.

Price’s wife scheduling a double date in five months time. Simon side eying John. She’s also invited you to come stay for a girls weekend at the Price house.

[wife/gf masterlist]

[ds-angel1]

Daddy´s least favorites

cw: SMUT(18+), incest, fingering, reader cries, ward is a bad parent like always, SO. MANY. NICKNAMES., DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT!!

wc: ~ 2,8k

a/n: hellooooooo! didn´t exactly (carefully) proof-read this one, sorry!!

You had always been sensitive—Rafe loved to call you a crybaby for it, teasing you relentlessly. But even as the sting of his words faded into affection over the years, you knew there was a painful truth beneath it. You felt things deeply, and that wasn’t always easy.

Growing up in the shadow of your family’s wealth might sound enviable to outsiders, but it didn’t shield you from the heartbreak of vying for your father Ward’s approval—or the devastating loss of your mother. Those experiences carved you into someone tender, someone raw, and someone Rafe couldn’t help but try to protect, even in his messy way.

Your older brother could be cruel with his jokes, sure, but when it truly mattered, Rafe was there for you. Always.

When you cried as a toddler because you’d lost your favorite stuffed animal, 8-year-old Rafe handed you a piece of candy and made silly faces until your giggles broke through your tears. When you were inconsolable over your father’s constant favoritism toward Sarah, Rafe sat beside you in quiet solidarity, gently murmuring, “I know, I know… it’s okay.” He did know. The two of you shared an unspoken understanding, a bond rooted in the same aching void your father’s love failed to fill.

Then there were the teenage years, full of heartbreaks and disappointments. On the eve of your 15th birthday, when the boy you liked stopped talking to you out of nowhere, you collapsed into Rafe’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He didn’t hesitate. Pulling you close, he kissed your forehead and promised, “Everything’s gonna be alright.” You were too wrapped up in your heartbreak to notice the smirk he hid behind your back.

Now, at 19, you’d just scraped through college with barely passing grades—another milestone your father dismissed with a half-hearted nod. You weren’t the smartest person, and you knew it, but Rafe had always found ways to make you feel like you were enough.

A bad grade? He’d distract you with stupid jokes or drag you out for ice cream until your mood lifted. Summer school? He rode the bus with you every single day, waiting patiently for the final bell so he could walk you home under the blistering sun—because your parents couldn’t be bothered to make time.

Sarah and Rafe may have been closer in age, but you and Rafe were something different, something deeper. The five-year gap between you didn’t matter when it came to the bond you shared. He wasn’t just your brother; he was your anchor in a house that often felt more like a storm.

That’s why, during your weekly FaceTime call, when he announced he’d be coming home for an entire week during autumn break, you couldn’t contain your excitement. You squealed, clapped, and practically counted down the days like it was Christmas.

The morning of his arrival, you woke up buzzing with energy. You hadn’t felt this happy in weeks, maybe months. Without really thinking about it, you found yourself putting on your cutest top and skirt, doing your makeup, and styling your hair with care. It was silly, you told yourself—he was just your brother. But something about seeing him again made you want to look your best.

“Rafe’s here!” your dad called from downstairs, his voice carrying through the house. Four minutes early. Your heart leaped at the sound, and before you knew it, you were sprinting down the stairs, nearly tripping over yourself in your excitement.

You skidded to a halt at the front door, and there he was, standing in the entryway with that familiar crooked grin. His duffel bag hung over one shoulder, and his eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“Rafe!” you practically screamed, throwing yourself at him. Your arms wrapped around his neck, squeezing tight as you buried your face against his shoulder.

“Hi, sweet girl,” he chuckled, his voice warm as he hugged you back. One arm tightened around your waist while his other hand came up to cradle the back of your head. “Miss me?”

“So much,” you mumbled against him, your voice muffled but heartfelt. It had been months since you’d last seen him, and the comfort of his presence was overwhelming.

“You gonna let go anytime soon?” he teased, tilting his head back slightly to try and meet your gaze.

“Mm-mm, nope,” you replied, your grip only tightening. The faint smell of his cologne mixed with the crisp autumn air clinging to his jacket, and for the first time in a long time, you felt completely at ease.

—————————

The rest of the day, you stuck by him like a shadow, trailing him wherever he wandered in the house. It was as if you couldn’t bear to let him out of your sight, and truthfully, you couldn’t. Having him back after so long made you realize just how much you had missed him. The house felt whole again, and for the first time in months, so did you.

At dinner the whole family sat around the dinner table, conversations flowing and everyone eager to catch up with the 24-year-old who had been gone for several months.

“So,” Ward said, glancing at Rafe while cutting into his steak. “You seein’ anyone?” His tone was casual, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes.

Rafe paused for a moment, shifting in his seat. “Oh, uh… not really,” he replied, his voice light. “Been talking to this one girl, but it’s nothing serious.”

You froze. A mix of emotions churned within you—anger, sadness, jealousy. You hated the idea of him seeing someone. It wasn’t fair; he’d already been away for months, and now he might share what little time he had left with someone else.

As Ward launched into a nostalgic story about his heartbreaker days, your thoughts spiraled. Rafe, however, didn’t miss the way your lips had curled into a subtle pout. Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to speak only to you.

“You okay, pretty girl?” His words were soft, almost tender, and his piercing gaze sent your heart racing.

Caught off guard, you quickly smoothed out your frown and replaced it with a small smile. “Oh, uh—yeah. Of course, I am,” you replied, your voice not as convincing as you’d hoped.

Rafe studied you for a moment longer, clearly unconvinced, but decided not to press. He leaned back in his chair, ready to return to the conversation, when you blurted out in a hushed tone, “So… you’re talking to someone? Is she… nice?”

You’d meant to sound casual, but the words came out hesitant, laced with something you couldn’t quite hide. The moment you saw his eyebrows shoot up and that familiar smirk stretch across his face, you knew you hadn’t been as subtle as you thought.

“Aww, are you jealous?” he teased, his voice quiet but amused as he leaned in closer. The soft chuckle that followed made your cheeks burn.

“What? No—” you stammered, your protest weak and unconvincing.

Rafe only grinned wider, his blue eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, yeah. Sure, kiddo.” He reached over and lightly tapped your hand resting on the table. “C’mon, you know you’ll always be my number one girl.”

His words sent a warmth through you that you couldn’t quite explain. You tried to hide the pleased smile tugging at your lips but failed miserably. Instead, you muttered a quiet, “Thanks…” and hoped he didn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks.

—————————

The glow of the fridge light spilled into the darkened kitchen, the quiet hum of its machinery the only sound cutting through the stillness of the evening. You stood there, staring blankly at its contents, your hand gripping the cool edge of the door. It was the first moment all night you’d been away from Rafe since he came home. He had asked you to grab him a bottle of water while he disappeared to the bathroom, and of course, you obliged. You always did.

As your fingers curled around the condensation-covered bottle, you heard the faint sound of footsteps behind you. Instinctively, you turned, your breath catching as your father’s figure emerged from the shadows. He stood by the kitchen counter, the sharp lines of his face illuminated by the faint glow. His posture was firm, his expression unreadable, save for the weight it carried—heavy, commanding.

“You’re happy to have Rafe back, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice even, though its edge cut through you. His fingers drummed slowly against the countertop, each tap sinking into the silence like a stone dropped into water. “Maybe it’s time you start thinking about your future too. College, maybe? Something worthwhile.”

“Dad, I—”

“I don’t want to hear any excuses,” he interrupted sharply, his words like a door slamming in your face.

“But Rafe and Sarah—”

“It doesn’t matter what they’ve done,” he barked, his voice rising impatiently. “What matters is you. You need to get your act together and stop wasting your life on things that don’t matter.”

The words stung. Each one a deliberate wound, striking deeper than the last. You opened your mouth to defend yourself, to explain, to plead for understanding, but every attempt was drowned out by his voice—louder, harsher, cutting you down before you could stand.

By the time the tears slipped from your eyes, hot and unbidden, you couldn’t stay any longer. Your chest tightened, your breath faltered, and without another word, you turned and fled. His voice followed you, sharp and biting, as you took the stairs two at a time and stumbled into your room. You shut the door hard behind you, muffling the world outside as sobs wracked your body.

“Pretty girl, what’s wrong?”

The voice was soft, familiar—steady as the tide. Through your blurred vision, you saw him: Rafe, sitting on the edge of your bed, his brows knit with concern. He looked at you like you were something fragile, something precious, and in that moment, the storm inside you softened just a little.

“D-Dad,” you choked out, your voice cracking as the words tangled with your tears. “H-he… he said—”

“Shh, angel,” Rafe murmured, already rising and closing the distance between you. His arms enveloped you, pulling you into his chest. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

His warmth surrounded you, his hands steadying your trembling frame as he held you close. You buried your face into the soft fabric of his shirt, your tears soaking into him as the safety of his presence began to untangle the knot in your chest.

“Ward said something to you?” he asked, his voice low but laced with barely contained anger. His hand moved to the back of your head, stroking your hair gently as you struggled to speak.

“H-he’s just so mean,” you finally whispered, your voice cracking like a splintered branch. “Why does he have to be like that? Why is he always so mean?”

Rafe sighed softly, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “I know, angel. I know,” he murmured, his voice filled with a tenderness that soothed even as your tears kept falling. His thumb wiped a stray tear from your cheek, his touch warm and deliberate. “He shouldn’t talk to you like that. You know that, right? He’s wrong.”

You nodded weakly, your exhaustion weighing heavier now, your sobs quieting into soft, uneven breaths.

“Let’s get you settled, yeah?” Rafe whispered, shifting slightly as he cupped your thighs to guide your legs onto the bed.

“But… I don’t have my PJs on,” you mumbled, your voice small and thick with the remnants of your tears.

“Don’t worry, princess, just relax. Let your big brother take care of you,” he said reassuringly, starting to pull the zipper of your plaid skirt down.

“Rafe, what—!”

“Shh… it’s okay,” his words cut you off, pressing kisses to your forehead and petting your hair — the affectionate gesture making your brain go fuzzy.

As his large hands tugged your skirt off, his lips trailed down to your neck, innocent affectionate kisses turning desire-filled and nasty—sweet to sloppy.

Your mouth stood agape, eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back to be cast upward. Rafe’s slender long fingers deftly hooked around the hem of your shirt, pulling it up your arms and torso, over your head, and onto the white rug next to your skirt.

Suddenly he pulled away, his lips disappearing from your now burning skin which caused you to straighten your head again and look at him — now with an embarrassingly noticeable flush coating your cheeks and chest.

It didn’t matter though, he wasn’t looking at your face; no, he was intently studying your body, only clad in a mismatching lace bra and underwear set, seated on the bed before him.

As you peered down at your attire along with him, taking in the revealing sight — a bra, baby pink and completed with small little flowers and intricate details on top. Your panties, are virgin white and accompanied by swirls and frills of lace at the top hem of the soft fabric.

You knew this was not how you should be dressed in the presence of your brother.

“C’mon, bedtime.” You knew sleeping in your bra wasn’t good concerning breast development but you didn’t say anything. Choosing to instead crawl into bed and cozy up in the warm scarlet sheets.

As you cuddled into your blanket and pillows you felt the mattress dip behind you, upon further inspection after you had turned your head, you saw Rafe climbing in next to you.

“You doin’ a bit better, princess?” The question made you remember the argument and the tears shed. You answered with just a small curt nod, turning back around to face the wall to hide the tears that started filling your eyes again.

Soon enough you felt Rafe’s hard chest pressed against your back and his comforting arms wrapped around you.

“I’m so sorry, pretty girl, you deserve so much better,” he whispered as he ran his fingertips over your arm.

“I’ll help you cheer up, okay? Just… just hold still for me, okay? Be a good little sister.”

With a confused face, you hesitantly agreed. Said confused expression soon turned to shock when Rafe’s hand tread scarily close to your thighs.

“You’ve grown so much.” His breath hit your ear tantalizingly as his hand gripped your thigh and pried it apart from the other.

"You’re a real woman now, huh? So proud of you. So so so proud of you, baby.” Your heart flourished and your mind melted, his praise overloading your body too much to even register that he had reached your panties and was tracing the edge of them.

A small kiss was placed on your shoulder, followed by a low, “I can give you what you deserve.”

His index finger snaked its way down into the fabric, making you gasp as he barely touched your most sensitive and private body part.

“I’m gonna provide for you one day.” His finger ran through your slit, teasing your puffy clit when he reached it. “I’ll take such good care of you.” He probed at your entrance, circling it like hyenas do their prey. He ignored your gasps and mewls and spoke further. “We’ll leave this place behind and we’ll be happy. Together. Forever.”

Two of his gnarled fingers plunged into your tight hole, pushing and stretching against the walls.

Your back arched and you let out a series of moans and blubbers — soon to be shut up by Rafe clasping his hand over your mouth.

He continued pumping his digits in and out of you, trailing kisses from the front column of your throat to the nape of the back of your neck.

You knew it was wrong, what you both were doing was so so incredibly wrong but it felt so great.

“You’re mine, yeah pretty girl? All mine,” he snarled as you reached your intense and overpowering high, your orgasm crashing onto you with a force of gravity itself.

Rafe slowly fucked you through your blissful haze, slipping his hand out of your now wet panties and licking his fingers coated in your essence clean.

“Rafe…” was the first word you spoke when he removed his hand from your face. Your voice was trial and shaky, your eyes wide and guilt-ridden as they looked at him.

“I know, I know. C’mere,” he inveigled your body to lay flat on his as he intoned validations and easements.

His hand glided up and down your bare back, repeating the same phrase under his breath — his version of a lullaby to get his baby sister to sleep.

“I got you, sweetheart, I got you now.”

[rosy-hollow]

Gojo Satoru, who’s practically best friends with your younger brother.

At first, the little boy was wary of your boyfriend, but that all changed when Satoru showed interest in your brother's Digimon collection—growing almost as fond of him as you were.

It was a slow day, so Satoru had offered to take your brother out—brother-in-law bonding time, he called it—while you ran some errands. Little did you know, your boys were plotting something big: your birthday.

Your brother, sitting atop Satoru's shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world, scanned the various shops in the mall. The moment his eyes locked onto a store you frequented constantly, your boyfriend glanced up at him with a knowing smile before racing inside.

Scanning the aisles, Satoru and your brother wore identical frowns as they examined the candy selection. Satoru already knew your favorite, but he figured you'd like trying something new—which is why he and the little boy were squinting at the shelves with such intense focus.

"Hmmm, what about this?" Satoru asked, holding up a bag of small yogurt-covered fruits.

Your brother frowned, shaking his head. "No... When she was 15, she had something similar, got food poisoning, and never ate yogurt-covered anything again." He said it matter-of-factly, and Satoru blinked, staring at the bag owlishly before quietly setting it down.

Then, the little boy’s eyes lit up as he spotted a brightly colored bag of apple-flavored gummies. "What about these? The packaging's in her favorite color!"

Satoru thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Hmm... I remember her saying a month or so ago that she was getting sick of apple-flavored stuff because it tasted too basic..."

Your brother pouted in defeat, setting the bag back down. But then—both of their eyes locked on a pack of strawberry gel-filled gummies. A silent agreement passed between them.

Into the cart it went.

Needless to say, Satoru wasn’t exactly the smartest spender. He already had tons of money to burn, and when it came to spoiling you—his amazing girlfriend—he had no restraint. So, with your younger brother enabling him by racing around the store and dumping random trinkets into the cart, Satoru was pretty sure he had enough gifts to last you at least five years’ worth of birthdays.

Which only meant he’d have to amp it up to ten years’ worth next time.

For now, he’d just FaceTime you when they got back to the car—just to see your gorgeous face and hear your pretty voice as you inevitably scolded him for letting your brother sit in the front seat and eat ice cream before dinner.

It was worth it, though. Because moments like these... they made Satoru’s heart ache in the best way. He loved you so, so much. More than you'd ever know.

And hanging out with your brother like this, watching the little guy run rampant with excitement... it made Satoru almost want to have kids of his own with you someday.

But that was a conversation for another time.

For now, he'd settle for cuddling with you on the couch while talking about Digimon with your brother.

A/N: since my last character & reader's little brother did so well... here's one with gojo !!

[jungwnies]

in your own lane | lando norris

୨ৎ : featuring : lando norris x equestrian!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by @sonichkkaaascreams) : when you're never seen at lando’s races, people start to question your commitment. what they don’t see is that you're winning grand prixs of your own — just on horseback. while rumors swirl, lando defends the love no one else fully understands: two athletes, two worlds, one unshakable team.

୨ৎ : genre : romance ୨ৎ : word count : 717

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was such a lovely request, love architects and everything domestic

the whispers always came in waves.

sometimes, they were subtle. a side glance in the paddock. a harmless comment during a podcast. other times, it was louder. headlines in bold. “where is she? norris’ girlfriend absent again.”

it didn’t matter that you were halfway across the world, riding a 1.60m course in stuttgart while lando was racing in monza. it didn’t matter that both your schedules were booked to the hour. all anyone ever saw was absence.

you weren’t there.

and somehow, not being there translated to not caring.

you tried to laugh it off the first few times. “let them talk,” you told lando over facetime, helmet hair tucked messily into a braid, your horse munching hay in the background.

he didn’t laugh. “i hate that they don’t get it.”

“you don’t have to defend me,” you’d said, gently. “i know what we have. i’m not in this to prove anything to anyone.”

but it wore on you sometimes, in the quiet in-between moments. when you were icing your shoulder in the hotel room after a fall, and your phone buzzed with lando’s podium photo and a comment: “wish she cared enough to show up.” or when you saw another wag post a picture in the paddock with the caption “always supporting.”

you supported too. just from a different kind of saddle.

monza came and went without you again.

you had a nations cup qualifier the same weekend. there was no possible way to be in two places at once. not when your horse needed you, your team was counting on you, and this was your chance at olympic points.

but the questions kept coming.

the latest one was from a journalist who leaned forward like he was about to drop a bomb.

“she’s never around,” he said, his voice too casual, too smug. “are you sure she’s really invested in this relationship?”

the room went quiet.

lando blinked once. tilted his head. let out a soft laugh, but there was no warmth in it. “are you serious?”

the reporter froze. the air shifted.

“she’s probably winning a grand prix of her own right now. i don’t need her front row at mine to know how serious we are.”

“but doesn’t it bother you?” the reporter asked. “that she doesn’t come to your races?”

lando leaned forward.

“no. because i actually respect what she does. she’s a professional athlete. she has a full season, a whole circuit. and while people are wondering why she’s not at my side, she’s out there, fighting for her own podiums.”

there was a beat of silence.

“she’s not just my girlfriend. she’s her own person. she’s got her own goals. and i’m proud of her for chasing them.”

later that night, his phone buzzed with a voicemail.

you sounded breathless, wind in the mic, the unmistakable squeak of your saddle as you dismounted.

“knocked a rail but still went clear in the jump-off. placed top five. wish you were here, but i know you killed it too. love you. call when you can.”

he smiled down at the phone like it was you.

when you finally saw him again, it was during the rare off-weekend.

both your schedules lined up, and you met in monaco—his place, your quiet sanctuary.

you didn’t even get through the door before he pulled you into his arms.

“missed you,” he mumbled into your neck.

“i saw the clip,” you said softly. “what you said to that reporter.”

he shrugged. “it was nothing.”

“it meant everything,” you whispered.

you sat on the couch, legs tangled, both of you scrolling on your phones.

you were trending together now, side by side on social media: ‘she can’t watch my gps when she’s busy winning her own.’ ‘lando norris claps back at misogyny in the paddock.’

you showed him a photo from your last show: you in your navy jacket, horse mid-air, muscles taut, your form perfect.

he grinned. “god, you’re hot when you’re flying.”

you snorted. “you’re ridiculous.”

“maybe,” he said, tugging you closer, “but you're mine. and no matter where you are, i feel you with me.”

you kissed him then, slow and soft and certain.

you may not always be in the same place, but your hearts? same team. same race. same finish line.

always.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[reidrum]

false god | s.r.

A/N: hehehehehineedhimcarnallyheheheheh.

summary: in which spencer finally comes home from a case after you've just finished exams and can't resist showing you just how proud he is

cw: smut 18+ minors dni, university!reader, p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, fingering, oral (f receiving), heavy petting, praise kink, pet names, aftercare

wc: 3.3k

The apartment is quiet when Spencer slowly opens the door, twisting the knob back into place with so much care that not even the faintest click could be heard. It’s been nearly a week since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. While in normal times it would be bearable because he’d call and facetime you every day, you were unfortunately also too busy with school and finals to even engage or drop a quick hello to him. You knew he was busy, he knew you were busy right back. Time got so far away it jumbled your synchronized schedules.

He missed you, a lot, is what he’s trying to get at.

Careful not to make any noise, he slides his shoes and satchel off and leaves it by the door. Spencer walks to the kitchen as he takes off his suit jacket to hang it on the chair, and opens the fridge to grab a glass of water. He notes that while he’s been trying to be quiet, the apartment has been quiet. You’re probably sleeping, he knows how exhausted you’ve been the past couple weeks. 

Spencer should feel guilty when he walks to the bedroom, mindlessly undoing the cuffs of his dress shirt. He can’t bring himself to feel such a way when he finds you sprawled out on the bed—your shared bed, he still thinks in disbelief—softly snoring away while your hair fans around you and your pajamas crumple about your body.

You stir slightly at the sound of his footsteps and he freezes, watching you settle back into deep sleep right as he reaches the edge of the bed. He kneels down to be level with your face and reaches a hand out to gently brush your hair back, no longer concerned with not waking you and suddenly overwhelmed with the dire need to see your eyes.

“Hi angel,” he murmurs, “I’m home.”

You sigh and flutter your eyes open, a lazy smile growing in recognition of the face in front of you, “Spence, missed you.”

He has to consciously hold back a groan. The way you even just say his name is enough to bring him to his knees—evidently so by his current position—but he has to be a gentleman and considerate of how tired you must be.

“Missed you too,” he continues to stroke your hair, “You alright? Exams go okay?”

“Mhm, all A’s.”

Spencer beams, “That’s my girl.”

You preen under his soft touch, “Case go fine?”

He nods, “Took a while but we got him, glad to be home now.”

“Oh good,” you mumble, “come to bed now.”

“Let me go change first and I’ll join.” he almost stands to his full height before he feels your hand stopping him, “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t go.” you whine.

His thumb goes to rub over your outreached hand, kneeling back down to your face, “I’ll only be five minutes.”

“Too long,” you sigh, “need a kiss first.”

Spencer lets himself be pulled closer to you and presses his lips to yours. He smiles into you, but it’s a deep kiss that shows how much you missed each other. Your lips deepen the kiss and your hand holds the back of his neck close to you. If he wasn’t so attuned to you he would have missed the faint whimper you let out. But he knows you like a native language, subconsciously able to pick up on the nuances you give.

“What’s really wrong?” he mumbles against your lips.

You pout, “Missed you.”

He chuckles softly, “You said that.”

“Meant it,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” Spencer rises to sit on the bed to sit next to your lying body, his hand smoothing down your face to take place on your neck, “Left my poor baby all alone.”

“So cruel of you.”

“So cruel,” he echoes. You’re laid out on the bed with a blanket barely covering you, leaving him no question that you’re wearing the silk pajama set he bought you a few weeks ago. He’d seen it in the window of a shop walking home from the library one day, and walked about three blocks thinking about you in the set before turning around to purchase it.

You don’t usually splurge on luxury items, you found it made you feel silly to spend that kind of money on yourself when it could go towards bills or other important necessities. Spencer did not find it silly, in fact he found it imperative that you are spoiled and shown how loved you are. He doesn’t buy into materialism, he knows the way he loves you speaks louder than any item or string of words can hold. But he’ll argue it’s a compulsion, a way of life even. 

“Cute pajamas.” he says, trailing a hand down the length of your arm.

A lazy smile grows on your face again, “Thanks, my boyfriend bought them for me.”

He grins, “He must really like you.”

“Something like that.” you giggle.

“You look really nice in it.” You can tell he’s restraining, for who’s sake is still up for question.

“Just nice?”

“I’m trying to be polite here, pretty girl.”

“But what if I wore it because I don’t want you to be nice?” you push.

Spencer lets his hand rest on the inward curve of your hip, squeezing slightly at your taunt. “You’re not tired?”

“Not for you.”

He hooks his fingers below your waistband and lingers, “I think you’re too good to me.”

“Sometimes I think it’s not enough,” you grin.

“Oh it’s more than enough, angel. Don’t worry.”

His fingers travel further down and ghost the front of your panties, the flutter of your eyelashes giving him all the confirmation he needs to keep going. He gently strokes a digit back and forth, watching as your breathing deepens quickly.

“Shh, I got you,” he coos, “just relax.”

He wraps an arm around your shoulder to help you curl further into him, his other hand lazily stroking lightly against your slit. “Must be so tired from all that studying, hm?”

You nod into him, your lower lip pouting as his strokes begin to take root in pleasure. “Needed you.”

He hums, “I know baby, I’m sorry. I’m here now, can I make it up to you?”

A sharp gasp leaves you as his finger dips below the fabric, swiping intently and slowly up your folds before returning to above your panties, “Please,” you beg.

Spencer smiles and hooks two fingers onto the fabric covering your core and tugs it to the side, using his index finger to hold it in place. He uses his middle and marriage to collect the slick at your entrance and smear it all over your cunt, finally using his thumb to work it into your clit with soft circles.

You moan out at the intense sensation, deeper breaths escaping as he dips his fingers into your cunt. “Fu—uck, Spence.”

“Feels good?” he asks, you nod quickly digging your head further into his chest, “Good, look so pretty like this baby.”

He pumps his fingers at a deathly slow pace, more so for him to feel every ridge and inch of you as he enters and leaves. He was gone for so long, and while his eidetic memory has served him well, there is nothing in this realm that will ever compare to the feeling of you at his mercy. He would sit in his hotel room and stare at the ceiling, trying his hardest to move heaven and earth to materialize you out of the atomized memories he has of you tucked away into his hippocampus.

It’s no use, he’s come to realize. Nothing will ever capture the way your face contorts when his long fingers brush against that spot inside you, how you say his name in that breathy moan that makes him wonder with all parts doubt in how he could ever leave you alone to your own devices. Someone like you should never have to lift a finger in their life, should never feel pain or sorrow or anger.

So in an act of repentance, he snakes the arm that was around your shoulder down to your chest and lets his hand dip under the silk tank top to cup your breast. He catches your nipple between his thumb and index and rolls with love, with a yearn to fill the void of lost time and to present himself with the worthiness of forgiveness. 

You grant him salvation, in the form of you preening at his fingertips like a goddess in full divinity, soft moans falling from your lips in sacred prayer. 

He speeds up his fingers when he feels you clamp around him every other thrust, “Close?” he murmurs.

You hum deliriously, “S—So close,”

It’s only one, two, three more deep strokes until you come undone all over his fingers, his pace not letting up as it takes you to the peak and leaves you floating above. Only does the gentle circling of his thumb on your clit regain your consciousness and tether you back down to the ground.

You weakly push a hand against his arm, “Too much,”

“Okay, okay,” he gently removes his fingers and immediately pulls them into his mouth, softly moaning as he swirls his tongue and swallows all of you. 

God, does he love how you taste. His eyes roll to the back of his head—you’re practically nectarious, a testament of what truly stood in the way between Eve and sin. Spencer finds himself moving on his own accord, much like Eve entering the Garden of Eden, because he simply cannot resist temptation any longer.

“Spence…what are you,” you whisper, words slurring in your post orgasmic haze.

He kisses down your shoulder and trails down your chest into your torso, slowly climbing further down your body until he’s reached the crest of your hip bones. His thumbs smooth the expanse of the skin, pushing the silk fabric of your shorts up to reveal the lacy panties you’ve chosen to wear that night. Lavender, his favorite.

You feel the ends of his curls tickle the inside of your thigh, and it’s then you realize his goal. “Baby, I don’t think I can…oh—ohh.”  You’re cut off by him pressing a firm kiss to your clothed cunt, his thumbs symmetrically kneading the flesh of your thighs.

“Good, don’t want you to think,” he mumbles, “just want you to feel me.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of your shorts and panties, pulling them off you in one fell swoop. You take a sharp inhale at the exposed air reaching you, but he quickly soothes it by returning his lips to the crevice where your thighs meet your core.

“I don’t mean to sound crass, but I need you to know that I had every intention of coming home to you and just letting you rest. Maybe fuck you to sleep once if you were a little more awake.” he wraps his arms around your legs and locks down, “I’ll take the fault for thinking I could be satiated with just a little taste of you, but it’s not my fault you were laid out looking so beautiful and tired. You understand I had to do something, right?”

He slowly lets his tongue trail from the bottom to the top of your cunt, your face contorting with deep pleasure and his eyes fluttering shut.

“My apologies, pretty girl.”

His tongue dives back into you like a selfish man, in a way that shows indulging in you is merely an incentive for him and no one else. Your voice singing out his name in breathy moans is a worthwhile bonus. He laps up every drop of you while you drift in and out of consciousness, the exhaustion of the past few weeks coming to a head and dispersing at the mercy of Spencer Reid. 

“Spence—oh,” you whine, your hand going to lazily perch in his hair to tug lightly. He groans into your cunt and grinds down his own length into the bed, the insatiable hunger building between his own legs yet his desire too desperate to be anywhere but between your own to take care of himself properly for now.

He unhooks an arm around one of your thighs and slips two fingers into your hole, nearly whimpering at how easy you took them in.

“There we go, there’s my girl. All ready for me,” he murmurs, “just need one more from you like this and I’ll give you what you want, angel. I’ll give you anything you want.”

You inhale sharply, voice getting caught in the overwhelm of it all, “G—Gonna come,”

“ ‘m right here baby, come all over my mouth. Need it so bad.” he begs.

Spencer Reid rubbing his own length onto your bed while he lays between your legs with his tongue buried deep inside you, begging you to come for him because he sounds like he might actually die if you don’t—is what sends you over the edge.

Your second orgasm washes over you like a soft wave hitting the shore, deceptively calm yet sneaking into every crevice and corner of your being and occupying it with full intention and purpose. Your back arches and falls back to the bed with a thud, your chest heaving up and down as it tries to bring you to rest.

“You okay?” Spencer grins up at you from between your thighs with that stupid smile that makes you feel all funny inside, an added bonus when it’s glistening with you.

You hum in soft agreement, hands aimlessly reaching for him. “C’mere, please.”

He slowly slides back up your body atop you, your arms linking behind his neck and tugging him down to kiss him resolutely on his lips. You start off with little pecks, peppering in little I love you’s between each one, you don’t even realize he’s turned your bodies so you’re both laying on your sides facing each other.

Spencer breaks the kiss reluctantly, his hands smoothing down your torso before gently turning you around so your back is flush with his chest. “Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?”

In all the rustling and movement he’s somehow rid himself of his underwear, evidenced by you utterly melting as he lines himself up at your entrance. Spencer wraps his arms around your stomach, one finger ghosting over your clit as he guides himself to your core. He lets the head drag tauntingly between your folds, gathering all the slick and spit onto himself to coat in.

“I—I don’t know,” a low groan escapes you, “i—if I can.”

“Oh baby, I know you can take it.” he coos, slipping himself into you inch by inch, “always take what I give you, hm? That’s why you’re my good girl, my best girl.”

You whimper as he sinks further into you, the overstimulation from your previous orgasms catching up to you.

He bottoms out, nuzzled in between your legs and into the crook of your neck, and moans out softly at how your close proximity is soothing every ailment he claimed to have in the time spent away from you. If he had to compare your divinity to a being, he could be basic and say Aphrodite for all the obvious reasons in which your beauty is a weapon. But if you were to really ask him, he would say Apollo for how you could simply smile at him with the radiance of the sun and heal him entirely.

For now, he’ll settle by giving his appreciation through slow thrusts and low murmurs in your ears. His hips pull back and gently push forward, lips immediately tacking onto your neck.

“Oh, angel girl,” his voice drips with wreck, “missed this so much, missed you so much.”

Your senses are on fire, every last one of them screaming with the memory of your previous peak, and the one before that. And yet, in thinly veiled love disguised as sadism, the burning ceases and all you can feel is him.

Suddenly, it’s not nearly enough.

Your hand reaches behind your body and clasps onto his cheek, holding him in place and close to you—as if there’s anywhere else he’d rather be. “More,”

He doesn’t think twice and hooks an arm under the bend of your knee, holding your leg pulled back towards him, and opening you up beautifully for him to thrust deeper into you.

“This what you want?” he pants, beginning to thrust at a relentless pace, “my baby just needed me to come fuck her dumb, hm?”

You whine out again, nodding mercilessly as he picks up the pace and adds two fingers to your clit. He circles the nub furiously, biting back a groan as you clamp down on him every other stroke like you did before on his fingers.

“Fuck,” you whimper, the familiar coil tightening in your gut, “think I’m go—oh—nna come.”

His fingers move faster on your clit, his thrusts deeper, “That’s it, baby. Come on, let go f’me. I got you.” he whispers.

For the third time in the last hour, your orgasm crashes onto you. Silently, you preen against his chest in absolute and total pleasure overtaking you. Spencer continues to fuck you through your peak, feverishly chasing his own high.

You fall limp against the bed, Spencer holding you against him for a few more deep strokes before spilling himself into you. He whimpers into your neck as he pushes through the overstimulation and fucks every last drop of come into you, whispering sweet nothings as you both calm back down.

He follows suit and limps behind you, an arm lazily swung around your torso still as your deep breathing syncs up. “Feel okay?”

You giggle dreamily, “More than okay, oh my god.”

“Good, baby. Don’t move, let me clean you up.”

“Don’t think I could move if I tried.”

He delicately slips out of you with a soft exhale and goes to the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water before walking back over to the bed. He tries to suppress his moans as he parts your legs to see his come dripping out of your hole like a work of art. He swipes the washcloth gently between your legs making sure to take away every last sticky spot, and massaging the skin with love and care.

Spencer walks back to the bathroom and drops the dirtied washcloth into the hamper, washing his hands before walking over to his dresser to grab a pair of boxers to slip into.

He walks to the kitchen to grab you a glass of water and the Ghirardelli caramel chocolate squares from his satchel that he picked up on his way home. When he enters the bedroom again he grabs one more pair from the dresser to slip you into, and opens the window to let the fresh night air in before sliding back into bed with you.

He gingerly drags the clean boxers over your legs to rest on your hips, then hands you the glass of water and watches you to make sure you chug the whole thing down. He smiles when you present him with the empty glass, and rewards you with a chocolate square.

“My favorite!” you gasp, “I love you.”

“I love you too, I’m proud of you by the way.”

You moan again at the taste of chocolate melting in your mouth, “Sorry, this is so good,” he chuckles as you swallow and continue, “I know, thank you. Means a lot.”

You make him eat a square too before licking the excess chocolate off his fingers, a fit of giggles flowering the bedroom before you both doze off tucked into each other’s arms. It’s the best sleep both of you have had in weeks.

[astars-things]

Dada's side

Dad!Lando Norris x Mom!reader

You knew marrying an f1 driver was hard, with the media attention, them being away so much and the risk of driving 300mph not knowing if they were going to get out of the car unharmed, but nothing was harder than raising a child with an f1 driver. You knew what you were signing up for but your little baby Ivy didn't. It was easier when she was younger she didn't have a clue what was going on and you could take her to races more but when she turned two it was a lot harder, now, she was old enough to know what it meant when Lando packed a suitcase. Old enough to know that when you drove to the airport, she wouldn’t see him for days.

Ivy was a clingy toddler to Lando so when it came time for airport drop-offs it was hard for everyone. 

"dada no leave" Ivy screamed as Lando was hugging her goodbye "Bub I'm sorry but you get to see me on TV and I'll be home in five sleeps okay" Lando cooed, giving her a finally kiss on the head before putting her back into her car seat and shutting the door, you and Lando stood outside the car hearing Ivy cry her heart out, "I Love you y/n, call me if you need anything" Lando cooed to you and giving you a deep kiss "I love you too Lando" you gave each other one last hug before you watched Lando walk away 

You watched him until he disappeared into the terminal, then slipped into the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel tightly. You tried to hold it together, for Ivy’s sake, but as her cries filled the car, a few silent tears escaped. Quickly, you wiped them away before the cameras lurking nearby could capture them.

when you stepped inside the apartment Ivy was not having it crying, throwing things and more. You sighed giving Ivy the iPad and putting cartoons on for her so you could go have a shower and a moment of peace to yourself. Then, suddenly, the weight of it all crushed you, and that's when you fell apart you started off with small sobs and soon it turned into you gasping for air, and the worst part is Lando was 30,000 feet in the air unreachable while you had to deal with everything. 

Dinner went better than you expected you made Ivy dino nuggets with tater tots and you both just sat on the couch with both of your dinners while watching a Disney because you had no energy to fight her into sitting her in her high chair, soon it came to bedtime "I don't want sleep I want dada" Ivy screamed as you placed her in her bed with a bottle of milk and her night time essentials, "I know baby but the sooner you go to sleep is one sleep down until dada comes home" you cooed pressing a kiss to Ivys head 

"What if I go get Dada’s cologne and spray it on Ted Ted?" Ivy’s sniffles quieted, and she gave you a hopeful nod. You quickly grabbed Lando’s full-sized cologne from the dresser the one he always left at home since he traveled with a smaller one and spritzed a little onto her beloved bear.

"Ted Ted smells like Dada now," you whispered, handing it back to her. She clutched it close, inhaling deeply, and within minutes, she was fast asleep. For the first time that day, it felt like you could finally breathe, you cleaned the kitchen and made your way into your shared room getting ready for bed, slipping under the covers and pulling out your phone to mindlessly scroll on TikTok, half an hour into scrolling on TikTok you heard tiny footsteps coming towards your room and with a small push Ivy had opened your bedroom door "I miss dada" she cried running towards you 

You picked her up putting her and Lando's side of the bed giving her a light kiss on the head "I know baby" you cooed, rubbing her back Just then, your phone buzzed. Lando’s name lit up the screen. You quickly answered, putting him on FaceTime.

"Hi, my love, fu—" Lando started, voice groggy from just waking up. "Lando, Ivy is next to me," you warned, cutting him off before he let any colorful words slip. Lando chuckled. "Right, little ears." Then his expression softened as he caught sight of Ivy curled up in bed. "Hey, bub. You keeping my side of the bed warm for me?"

Ivy peeked at the screen, still sleepy. "Mhm. Smells like you," she mumbled, hugging Ted Ted closer. Lando’s heart melted. "I miss you, baby. But I’ll be home really soon, okay? Just five more sleeps." Ivy yawned, nodding. "Will you tell me a story?"

Lando grinned. "Of course, bub. What story do you want?" Ivy thought for a moment before mumbling, "Dada’s race car."

So Lando launched into a bedtime story, his voice soft and full of love. He told her about a magical race car that could fly and how its driver who looked suspiciously like him raced across the stars to get home to his family. As he spoke, Ivy’s eyes grew heavier, her little hand resting against your arm.

Soon, soft snores filled the room.

Lando smiled. "She’s out, huh?" You nodded, adjusting the blankets around her. "Yeah. That was adorable." "Glad I could help." Lando leaned back against the pillows in his hotel room, running a hand through his messy curls. "How was your day, love?" You sighed. "Busy. She was extra clingy today. I think she really felt you being gone."

Lando frowned. "I hate being away from you guys." "We miss you too," you admitted, voice softer now. "It’s not the same without you here." His expression warmed. "I’ll be home before you know it. And then I’m not letting go of either of you." You smiled sleepily, the warmth of his words settling over you like a blanket.

"Babe," Lando said after a moment, his voice gentle. "As much as I love your voice, I think you should go to sleep." You chuckled. "You’re probably right." "Get some rest, love. I’ll call you first thing in the morning." "Okay," you whispered, eyes fluttering shut. "Goodnight, Lando." "Goodnight, my love."

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[lynbels]

JAKE WHEN HES JEALOUS AND HE LEAVES A BUNCH OF MARKS ON YOU PUHLEASEEE 🙏🙏

let me in (20cm deeper) - sjy

pairing: jake x reader

synopsis: He wasn’t supposed to care—but one jealous glance, one reckless FaceTime call mid-thrust, and now he’s fucking you like he needs the whole world to know you’re his. ✉️ 2144wc - tw ‼️ jealousy, possessiveness, oral (f receiving), rough sex, marking, face sitting, name kink, phone sex, humiliation, choking (light), degradation, creampie, overstimulation, praise kink, dom!jake

💌 mark me up and I’ll show up to uni the next day without a doubt 😵 pookie I love ur reqs sm send more 😘

He wasn’t supposed to care. That was the rule—his own rule. The one he made the first night he kissed you with too much tongue and not enough thought, when the two of you stumbled into your bedroom half-laughing, half-buzzed, and fully aware that this couldn’t mean anything. You were friends. Good friends. He liked your company, liked your voice when you read texts aloud with dumb impressions, liked how you made taking vitamins feel like a shared inside joke instead of a self-imposed regimen. But that was all it was supposed to be.

Until it wasn’t.

It started with something stupid—an Instagram story, of all things. Jake had opened his phone during a water break at the gym, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt when he saw it. A boomerang. You. Smiling. Head tilted toward someone else. A guy. The caption was harmless—he’s so funny lol—but Jake felt his throat tighten.

He made it through the rest of his workout on autopilot, pushing harder than usual, muscles screaming for rest while his thoughts spiraled. You weren’t even doing anything wrong. You weren’t his. He wasn’t yours. But the image played over and over again in his head: you laughing like that at someone else’s jokes, leaning into their shoulder, letting them have the version of you Jake thought was just his for a little while.

And then you texted.

come over later?

i got wine and that ice cream u like 😋

Jake stared at your message for a full five minutes, heart thudding hard against his chest. His first instinct was to say no, to pull back and cool off, to remind himself of his stupid rules about boundaries and keeping things clean. But then he remembered your smile in that photo, how open and easy it looked.

He texted back.

be there in 15

He didn’t take his usual post-gym ginseng shot. Didn’t do his skincare. Didn’t even double-check his weekly checklist of personal goals.

Because suddenly, all Jake could think about was making sure you remembered exactly who you belonged to tonight.

You open the door barefoot and braless, wearing one of those oversized shirts that barely covers your thighs—probably on purpose. Jake knows you. You’re not oblivious. You know exactly what you do to him when you act like this: all casual and sweet and soft, like you’re not the same person who had their head on someone else’s shoulder earlier.

“Hey,” you say like nothing happened, already turning back toward the kitchen. “I opened the red. Wanna pour?”

He follows silently, eyes on the curve of your legs as you walk. There’s music playing—something soft and lazy—and he realizes it’s the kind of song people play on dates. Candlelight flickers on the counter. You always keep it cozy when he comes over, but tonight it feels too intentional. Too romantic.

He wonders if the other guy saw you like this.

Jake doesn’t say much as you hand him a glass of wine. He doesn’t joke around like he usually does. He just leans against the counter, swirling the drink, pretending not to watch the way you sip yours with a slight smirk.

“So,” you start, licking a drop of wine from your lip, “what’s with the face? You look like you benched your personal best and didn’t get praised for it.”

His jaw ticks. “Saw your story.”

Your brows lift. “What, the one with Yena’s party?”

Jake hums, gaze dropping to your bare thighs. “Yeah. That one.”

You lean a little closer, head tilting. “He’s just a friend, Jake. You jealous or something?”

There it is. The spark. The dangerous one.

Jake sets his wine down with a quiet clink. “No,” he lies, voice low and clipped. “Just curious why he’s got you laughing like that. I don’t remember you looking that happy the last time I made you come.”

The air thickens. Your smile falters for half a second, like you weren’t expecting him to be that blunt. Then it returns—slow, calculated. You set your wine down too, stepping between his legs where he leans against the counter.

“You could fix that,” you whisper. “If you want.”

Jake stares at you for a long, long moment. Every disciplined bone in his body screams at him to slow down, to play it cool, to not let you see how tightly he’s wound. But you’re close now. Too close. And your skin smells like warm sugar and sin.

And in this moment, with your mouth inches from his and your thigh brushing his jeans—Jake doesn’t want to be responsible. He just wants you wrecked and shaking, begging for the man you almost forgot was yours.

Jake doesn’t kiss you gently. He crashes into you like a dam finally bursting, months of restraint swept away in one hard press of his mouth. His hands find your waist, then your hips, then the backs of your thighs as he lifts you onto the counter like you weigh nothing. The wine glasses clink behind you, forgotten. Your shirt rides up, and Jake’s lips never leave yours—just grow hungrier, messier, more desperate.

“You drive me insane,” he murmurs against your skin, trailing kisses down your neck, biting harder with each inch. “Walking around like this… smiling like that… for someone else.”

Your breath catches when his teeth graze the base of your neck. “He didn’t even—”

“Don’t care,” Jake growls, already sucking a bruise into the hollow of your throat. “You’re mine when I’m here. You get that?”

You nod, already breathless, already aching. His hands slip beneath your shirt—warm, rough, and intent—and you gasp when he pulls it over your head in one smooth motion. He doesn’t give you time to feel shy. Doesn’t even pause.

Instead, his mouth is everywhere at once—on your collarbone, between your breasts, down your stomach. Each kiss is matched with a mark. Sharp nips that bloom into bruises. His tongue soothes them after, but it’s all part of the same rhythm: claim, soothe, repeat.

“Jake,” you whimper, squirming as he pulls your thighs apart with an easy grip. “You’re being—”

“Thorough,” he finishes, looking up at you from between your legs, eyes dark with jealousy and heat. “You let someone else make you laugh. I’m gonna remind you who makes you scream.”

And then his mouth is on you. Hot, focused, relentless. You grab at his hair, already trembling from how fast he has you unraveling—but he doesn’t stop. His grip tightens on your hips when you try to close your thighs. He growls against you when you arch your back. And when your voice cracks on his name, he moans like he’s starving for the sound.

By the time he pulls away, your thighs are shaking, your breath ragged. His chin glistens and his shirt is wrinkled from how hard you clung to him. And you’re already marked—neck, chest, thighs. Painted in him.

Your legs are still shaking when he stands back up, hands splayed on your thighs, eyes dark and heavy-lidded as they rake over your flushed skin. You expect him to kiss you again, but he doesn’t—not right away. Instead, he just looks at you for a second. Really looks. Like he’s memorizing the sight of you—lips parted, chest rising, already marked all over with proof of him. Then he breathes out hard and reaches down to undo his belt.

The sound of it slipping through the loops is enough to make your stomach flutter.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he mutters, tugging his jeans and boxers down just enough, his cock already hard and leaking. “Not until I’m done.”

You barely have time to nod before he’s pulling you to the edge of the counter, lining himself up between your thighs. One hand grabs your waist—firm, possessive—the other wraps around the back of your neck, keeping your face close to his.

“Look at me,” he whispers, pushing in slow. “Every second of this.”

You cry out, hands flying to his shoulders, nails digging in as he stretches you. You’ve done this before—more than once—but it still knocks the air from your lungs. He’s thick, and he knows it, knows exactly how to make it burn just a little, how to pause halfway in so you feel every inch. Your walls flutter around him, body struggling to take it.

“Too much?” Jake’s voice is low but strained, jaw clenched as he waits. You nod and whimper, biting your lip, and he dips forward to kiss your temple, whispering, “You’ve got it. I’ve got you. You can take it.”

He pushes the rest of the way in and holds himself there, buried deep, letting you cling to him while your body adjusts. When you moan into his neck, hips twitching, Jake groans low in his throat.

“You feel so good like this,” he growls, voice roughened by restraint. “Tight… soft… mine.”

Then he starts to move—slow, deep thrusts that make the counter creak beneath you. His grip stays locked on your waist as he sets a pace that has your head falling back, cries tumbling from your lips with each push. The sound of skin meeting skin fills the kitchen, messy and raw, and Jake just keeps going—driving into you like he’s making a point.

“You don’t need anyone else,” he breathes into your ear. “I give you everything you need, don’t I?”

“Y-Yeah,” you gasp.

“Say it.”

“You do, Jake—fuck—only you.”

That pulls a growl from his chest. His mouth is back on your neck, tongue and teeth working over fresh skin, leaving new bruises over the ones that haven’t faded yet.

And when he comes—deep inside you, buried to the hilt—he doesn’t stop whispering your name like it’s a promise.

You’re already wrecked. Your cheek sticks to the counter, lips swollen from biting down on them, and your thighs shake every time Jake thrusts back into you. He hasn’t let up—not even a little—his cock buried deep, stretching you over and over with a punishing rhythm that’s more about proving something than just pleasure. And it’s working. You’re dripping. Whimpering. Ruined.

Then you feel the shift. Jake leans forward, still fucking into you, and you hear the soft beep of your phone unlocking.

“What are you doing?” you manage to whisper, voice broken, barely hanging on.

He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t have to. Because a second later, the FaceTime ring starts, loud and clear, vibrating right on the counter next to your face.

Your eyes snap open. “Jake, no—”

“Too late,” he grits, one hand curling around your hip, the other holding the phone up high enough to show everything. “He wanted your attention, didn’t he? Let’s give it to him.”

The screen flashes—connected.

And there he is. The guy from the night before. Confused, then wide-eyed, horrified.

Jake doesn’t stop thrusting. In fact, he slows down just a little, dragging each movement out, your slickness obscene in the quiet between the heavy sound of skin and your shaky moans.

“She’s a little busy right now,” Jake says, voice low and smug. “Thought you’d want to see what that laugh of hers really sounds like when it’s real.”

The guy stammers. “What the fuck—“

“Say hi, baby,” Jake murmurs, grabbing your jaw and angling your face toward the screen.

You don’t speak, but the moan that spills from your lips as he hits your spot again—that says enough.

Jake tilts the phone lower, angling it to show your trembling legs, the marks he’s left all over your skin, the way your body clings to him with every thrust. “You watching? You get it now?”

You swear you see him end the call out of panic—or maybe disgust. Either way, Jake tosses the phone aside the second the screen goes dark. His hand is back on your hip in a flash, grip brutal now as he fucks into you harder.

“Mine,” he growls. “All fucking mine.”

And this time when you cum, it’s not from his hands or his mouth or even his words.

It’s the thrill of being seen.

You wake up slow, your limbs heavy and sore, skin warm under the covers. The sunlight leaking in through the blinds feels too bright, too real, like it has no business touching a body that still belongs to the night before.

Your throat’s dry, your thighs ache, and every small movement reminds you of exactly where his hands were—how many times he pulled you apart and put you back together. You shift with a soft whimper, the soreness between your legs blooming deeper, and instinctively tug the blanket tighter around your chest.

That’s when you see it.

The marks.

Everywhere.

Faint bruises along your hips, scattered bites on your thighs, faded red fingerprints at your waist. There’s one on your collarbone, dark and angry, shaped like his mouth. And on your inner thigh, dangerously close to somewhere far more sensitive, his name. Sloppily written in deep purple hickeys.

You press your legs together and bite your lip, heart stuttering as the memory floods in—Jake’s voice, low and angry; his pace, rough and punishing; the look on his face when he hung up that FaceTime call like he had won something.

Because he had.

You hear him before you see him—soft footsteps, the clink of something ceramic. And then the door creaks open.

Jake steps in with messy hair, sleepy eyes, and a mug in each hand. He’s wearing only sweats, slung low on his hips, and his chest still has faint scratch marks from your nails. When he sees you awake, he grins—sleepy, soft, like he didn’t completely ruin you just a few hours ago.

“Mornin’,” he says, offering a mug. “You’re gonna need water too. You passed out right after…”

You take the drink without answering, eyes still locked on the hickeys.

He notices.

Jake sets his mug down, comes to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers brushing over your thigh. “Sorry,” he murmurs, sounding not sorry at all. “Got a little carried away.”

You glare at him half-heartedly. “You FaceTimed him.”

His smirk is immediate. “And he answered.”

You groan, covering your face. “Jake.”

“Hey,” he says gently, prying your hands away. His thumb grazes your cheek. “He needed to see it. I needed him to see it.”

You don’t respond. You don’t need to. Because when Jake leans down and kisses the mark on your neck like it’s sacred—when his lips brush over bruised skin like he’s trying to apologize without saying the words—you realize something else:

It’s not just about jealousy.

It’s about you.

You, and how he’s terrified of losing what you are—even if it means making the whole damn world watch him prove it.

wanna read my longer ffs? Check out @shy9-29 || prompt list request

[love--and--venom]

Protective Instincts: Enhypen

Summary: Your best friend shows his possessive nature when another man harasses you

Warnings: Misogynistic comments, intimidation, threats of violence, allusions to drugging in Sunghoon's part, if I missed anything lmk

Protective Instincts Masterlist

Lee Heeseung

No matter how busy you were, you and Heeseung always made time to see each other at least twice a month. You have been friends for as long as you remembered, having grown up as neighbors. Your moms would gossip over tea while the two of you got into as much mischief your baby brains could think of. Not much has changed, except now you were the ones gossiping instead of your moms.

“Text me when you get home, yeah?” Heeseung held the door of the cafe open for you. The sidewalk bustled with pedestrians rushing to get their weekend errands done.

“Of course. Make sure you do the same.” You always ended your hang-outs with the same good-byes and a tight hug. You parted ways, walking in opposite directions to get back to your respective apartments. Barely five minutes passed since you left the cafe and yet a FaceTime call from you interrupted Heeseung’s music.

“Wow, did you miss me that much already?” He wasn’t looking at the phone or he would’ve seen the fear clearly written on your face.

“Heeseung.” His eyes snapped down to you, immediately concerned by the tremor in your voice.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think there’s a man following me,” you whispered, as if the man would be able to hear you from several feet away. Heeseung stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning him some glares.

“What?!”

“He was outside of the convenience store a couple doors down from the cafe. After I passed him, he looked at me weird and now he’s behind me.” 

“Don’t go home. Start looking around one of the stores, I’m coming to you,” Heeseung instructed while turning on his heel and speed-walking in your direction.

“Okay, uh, I’m in that boutique with the grandma curtain dresses.” You passed that store all the time but never went in because of the gaudy patterns on the window displays. You greeted the cashier, moving to the back of the store to hide.

“Can you see him?”

“He’s looking in the front window.” Heeseung ground his teeth, pushing his way through the crowded sidewalk. A lot of people jumped out of his way when they saw his barely-contained anger. The little bell above the boutique’s door jingled in his ear. “Oh fuck, he just walked in.”

“Stay calm and don’t hang up. I’m almost there.” You shrunk behind a rack of clothes, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. But there was only one other customer in the store, so your chances were slim.

“Hi,” an unfamiliar male voice cut into your conversation. “What are you up to all by yourself?”

“O-Oh, um, I’m just looking for a gift for my mom,” you lied, wide eyes flicking between your phone and the stranger. 

“Mhm,” he hummed, obviously not listening to what you were saying. “How old are you?”

“19.” Another lie. Maybe if he thought you were too young he’d leave you alone.

“So you’re inexperienced, then. Why don’t you let an older man show you how it’s done.”

“It? N-No, no thanks.” At this point, Heeseung borderline sprinted toward the store. 

“No? Why not?” The door slammed open, whipping the poor bell around and startling the cashier. The man ignored it, staring down at you, leaning closer and dropping a hand to your shoulder. “I can promise I’m way better than that little boy you were with before. Where is he, anyway?”

“Behind you,” Heeseung growled. 

“Oh, shit,” the man swore after he turned and caught sight of Heeseung’s icy glare. You have never seen your best friend this pissed off. He shoved the man’s chest, making him stumble and give just enough room for Heeseung to pull you into his side. His arm draped over your shoulders, hand hanging loosely in front of you. His relaxed posture was a stark contrast to the intensity in his eyes and voice.

“Did you need something or were you just trying to intimidate my girlfriend?” You flushed at that, glancing up at him, but he kept his steady gaze on the man. 

“Relax, I was just making small talk.”

“By asking a 19-year-old girl if she wants to have sex with you? Fuck off, you’re lucky if I don’t call the cops,” Heeseung sneered, continuing your lie with ease. This grabbed the attention of the cashier. She discreetly pulled out her phone, whispering into the speaker with a hand over her mouth.

“Seriously, kid? You should really be thanking me.” The man held up his hands with a shrug. “I was offering to show her how to make a guy cum. That works in your favor.” You squeaked, ducking under Heeseung’s arm to hide behind him, gripping the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn’t seem to mind, as he reached back to rest a comforting hand on your hip.

“So you’re a pervert and you have no shame, got it,” Heeseung scoffed with a click of his tongue.

“See, I knew you weren’t a real man. You should–”

“Excuse me, sir,” a woman with sharp eyes and a neat bun interrupted. “I will only say this once: get out of my store.” 

“What?!”

“You are harassing my customers. Very young customers, at that, with extremely lewd comments,” the shop owner scolded the man, arching an immaculate eyebrow. “If I need to repeat myself, you will be leaving in handcuffs.” The man bristled, bowing his head and scurrying out of the store.

“Thank you, ma’am,” you sighed in relief but kept your shaky hands wrapped around Heeseung’s arm. 

“It was no trouble at all. You kids have a good day, now.” As quickly as the owner arrived, she disappeared through a doorway behind the counter. You sat in silence until you realized that Heeseung was still gently brushing his thumb over your hip.

“Hee, you called me your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, I did.” He didn’t give you any time to dwell on it, kissing your temple then your cheek and tugging you back out onto the sidewalk. “I’m walking you home.” Your mind reeled as you tried to wrap it around this new information and the sudden affection. You grinned and squeezed his hand.

“Okay.”

Jay Park

You were at a party for one of Jake’s friend’s birthdays. Jay dragged you along, claiming that he needed you there for moral support since the only people he’d know were the other Enhypen boys. Yeah, moral support my ass. Not even a minute after you walked through the front door, Jay veered off when another girl waved him over. So now you were forced to awkwardly mingle with a growing pit of jealousy in your gut. Luckily one of the little cliques adopted you into their circle, easing your nerves a bit. An hour into the party, you managed to break out of your shell and were now laughing loudly with everyone.

“Oh, hey Jay,” one of the guys in the group greeted the idol as he approached. 

“Hey,” Jay greeted flatly while shoving himself between you and the girl to your right. You furrowed your brows at the odd change in behavior. He was normally very polite, opting to gently maneuver you to the side so he could stand next to you. He didn’t even say ‘excuse me’ to the poor girl. You followed his uncharacteristic glare to a guy leaning on the arm of the couch. You thought he said his name was Dan or something similar. 

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, looking back up to Jay. 

“I’m good.” A muscle in his jaw twitched and you knew he was lying.

“No, you’re mad about something. What’s going on?” He didn’t answer. Jay's fiery gaze didn’t waver, even when someone tried including him in the conversation. You rolled your eyes. “Okay, fine. Don’t tell me.”

“Y/N,” a shorter girl with cute round glasses grabbed your attention. “You have to come with us next time we go out! There’s this amazing cafe and the cutest…” Jay tuned her out while moving a hand to your lower back, which you didn’t question. He usually used your body heat as a way to ground himself. He was visibly angry because didn’t like the way Dan was eyeing you up, and he definitely didn’t like that Dan wasn’t backing down while he was standing right next to you. The last of his patience ran out when Dan fucking smirked at him. Oh, so he knew what he was doing. Knowing that only pissed Jay off more.

“What about you, Jay?” The short girl looked at him expectantly. 

“Hm? Yeah, sure.”

“It wasn’t a yes or no question…” She trailed off when you signaled that he was in a bad mood. The conversation carried on like normal for approximately 15 seconds before Dan chimed in.

“Hey, Y/N, has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?” Absolutely the fuck not. Jay’s hand slid from your back to your hip, digging his fingers into you and pulling you flush against his side.

“I tell her every day,” he replied before you even had a chance to process the intent behind the compliment.

“Oh?” Dan cocked his head to the side. “I never asked, but how do you know each other?”

“We’re–”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jay interrupted you. Every ounce of your willpower went into keeping your composure. You didn’t know why Jay would lie about dating you, but you trusted him. There must be a reason, so you let yourself relax into his side. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really.” Everyone watched the exchange nervously. Between Dan’s arrogance and the edge to Jay’s voice, a thick tension hung in the air. 

“So why’d you leave her alone to talk to Yunah?” You were curious about that, too, to be perfectly honest.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but she was asking for advice. She and the other Illit members want to try rapping in some of their upcoming songs,” he explained. Now you felt a little silly for being so jealous earlier.

“Suuure. You two were just a bit close, in my opinion,” Dan shrugged while looking over at you. Jay’s whole body tensed up.

“I don’t give two shits about your opinion, so stop eye-fucking my girl before I make you,” he snarled, surprising everyone with his threat. Your jaw dropped as you stared at his profile. Under the anger, you could see something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Jay,” you whispered gently, placing your hand over the one squeezing your hip like a lifeline. He finally looked at you, and his resolve shattered at the genuine concern on your face.

“We’re leaving,” he muttered, grabbing your hand and leading you to the front door. “Sorry, Donghyun.” He apologized as he passed the host of the party. You waited until you left the apartment to pull Jay to the side. He dropped your hands to curl his fists by his sides, refusing to look up from the sidewalk.

“What happened in there, Jay? I’ve never seen you so angry before,” you asked while uncurling his fist, tracing over the lines on his hand with your fingertips. You missed the shiver that went down his spine at your touch. 

“I’m sorry, I just,” he interrupted himself with a frustrated growl. “I hated the way he was looking at you.”

“How was he looking at me? And why would it piss you off that much?”

“Y/N, he was basically undressing you with his eyes. I hated it cus I could tell that he was thinking about you like you were a prize,” he gestured with his unoccupied hand during his rant. 

“I didn’t even notice.”

“I know you didn’t. That’s why I came over. God, the thought of someone else wanting you like that just–”

“Wait,” you cut him off, holding both of his hands in front of him. Jay still avoided eye contact, so you had to duck your head down to force him to meet your eyes. “What do you mean ‘someone else’?” His eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to let that slip.”

“Is that why you get moody after I go on dates?” You struggled to suppress the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“Don’t laugh–”

“I’m not!”

“Y/N, seriously.” You took a deep breath to compose yourself at the desperation in his voice. “Yes. I’m sorry I never told you, I just didn’t want to ruin our friendship since you obviously don’t feel the same.”

“Oh my god, you’re such an idiot,” you giggled behind your hand.

“What?”

“Jay. I have been flirting with you so much that it grosses Jake and Sunghoon out. How have you not noticed?” He stared at you in disbelief. You had to hide your face in his shirt to smother the cackles that would’ve definitely gotten you some dirty looks from other pedestrians. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around you before chuckling at his own obliviousness.

“Oh. Good, so I wasn’t lying. You’re mine.” His chin rested on the top of your head as he gently swayed back and forth.

“I have been for a while, Jay.”

Park Sunghoon

A long-standing and well-loved tradition in the Enhypen dorm was their monthly movie nights. It started with just the boys, but then Sunoo introduced you to the group. You bonded with everyone very quickly and after a few months, you were allowed to join their sacred movie tradition. Not like anyone, especially Sunghoon, minded you being there. Actually, Sunghoon found it to be the perfect opportunity to get closer to you, metaphorically and physically. Everyone knew his excuse of “sharing the blanket” was just that: an excuse. Well, everyone except you knew and it drove Sunghoon crazy.

The issue with tonight’s movie night was the sudden inclusion of two of Heeseung’s friends. Most of the other members haven’t even met these guys. How the hell were they allowed to crash their movie? To make matters worse, one of them stole both Sunghoon’s last bottle of tea and his spot on the couch next to you. He had to sit in the recliner. All alone. Without his favorite blanket- your blanket- but at least you didn’t share with the new guy. He either didn’t notice or blatantly ignored your discomfort, which was unsurprising for a guy named fucking Tyler. 

So Sunghoon sat there, seething and barely watching the movie, glaring at Tyler from the corner of his eye. You were, arguably, having a much worse time than Sunghoon. You had to deal with this guy’s annoying flirting and inability to accept “no” as an answer. You’ve already told him three times to take his arm off your shoulders. He listened, sort of. He technically wasn’t touching you, but his arm rested on the back of the couch directly behind you. He gave you the worst feeling in your gut. He was definitely not to be trusted with your drink. Your knees ached from curling yourself as deep into the corner of the couch as possible. You needed a break.

“Where are you going?” Tyler asked when you stood. The others turned to you, making you even more nervous than you already were.

“Bathroom,” you mumbled and fled down the hall. Heeseung sighed before addressing his friend.

“Man, you need to chill. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

“What?” Tyler scoffed. “No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Heeseung’s other friend insisted. “Just relax, bro. Now’s not the time.”

“Yeah, whatever. There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s available.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Even the movie was quiet. Six sets of eyes stared at an unbothered Tyler. While the others were visibly pissed, Heeseung and his other friend just looked disappointed. You hesitantly reentered the living room and now Sunghoon was actually happy that he got booted to the recliner, since it was between the hall and the couch. As you passed by, he grabbed your hand and tugged you down to sit sideways on his lap. Your eyebrows scrunched up in confusion.

“Just stay here. Please,” Sunghoon whispered. You certainly weren’t about to argue, shifting to a more comfortable position with your arms hanging loosely on his shoulders and your cheek resting against his temple. The tension slowly melted from Sunghoon’s body as he wrapped his own arms around your waist.

“Okay, seriously?” Sunghoon tightened his hold on you when Tyler spoke up. 

“Is there a problem?” The movie went forgotten in the background. Everyone’s attention was on you, Sunghoon, and Tyler. The latter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and relaxing into the couch.

“Nah.” He shook his head with a huff. “She could have just told me she had a boyfriend and I would’ve backed off.”

“She is sitting right here,” you interrupted. “And I shouldn’t have to tell you anything. You should have stopped the first time I asked.”

“Oop, get him!” Jake encouraged from where he was laying on the floor. 

“How was I supposed to know you wanted me to stop?!”

“Because I told you! I said to stop touching me before the movie even started,” you snapped, back going rigid as you glared at him. One of Sunghoon’s hands slid to your lower back to rub gentle circles on your spine. The other stayed on your thigh, and your hand dropped to his.

“We also told you to stop,” Heeseung’s other friend pointed out. 

“Oh, come on–”

“No, Tyler,” Heeseung cut him off. “You’ve changed ever since you joined your bullshit frat house. I’ve been trying to give you a chance to prove me wrong, but this is it, man.”

“What are you saying, dude?”

“I think it would be best for you to leave. Neither of us want to be associated with a guy that harasses women.” Heeseung gestured between himself and his other friend. 

“Harass, seriously? Whatever. I didn’t realize you guys were such pussies,” Tyler ranted while making his way out of the dorms. The front door slammed shut, and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.

“I’m so sorry about him, Y/N. He wasn’t always like that, but I can’t keep holding on to the past. He’s a lost cause at this point,” Heeseung apologized, rubbing his temples to stave off his growing headache.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I’d really like to get to know you all, so I hope I can get a second chance.” 

“You’re cool, man,” Jake reassured him with a pat to his knee. “You tried to step in. That’s proof enough that you’re a good guy.”

“Can we get back to the movie now?” You giggled at Ni-Ki’s impatience. Jungwon had to rewind it a bit, but once it started playing again you moved to get off Sunghoon’s lap. 

“Nooo,” he protested, dragging you back down to sit between his legs. “Stay here.” He pulled your back flush against his chest, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“O-Oh, okay.” Your face turned bright red, and you were very happy he couldn’t see it from his position. Or so you thought.

“You know,” he started, leaning closer so he could whisper in your ear. “You’re really pretty when you blush.”

“Sunghoon,” you whined and hid your face in your hands. His chest vibrated as he quietly laughed.

“Alright, I’ll leave you alone.” He kissed your temple before turning his attention back to the movie. “For now.”

Permanent Taglist: @furfoxsake22 @babygirlskz98 @miniverse-zen @holly-here @corgilover20 @eastjonowhere @bookswillfindyouaway

Blogs in purple couldn't be tagged

[rosachae]

idol | megan skiendiel x reader

⁍ song: radar - lil hero ⁍ requested: yes! thank you anon ⁍ genre: idol!megan x actor!reader. slowburn fluff, jealous megan, loser!megan ⁍ a/n: thank you for requesting this, anon! sorry for the delay in getting this out. i hope this is what you were looking for. ⁍ w.c: 17k ⁍ warnings: curt language, a little bit nsfw(?), more so just suggestive. ⁍ synopsis:

y/n, an up-and-coming actor in korea, casually let slip on a variety show that she might have the *tiniest* crush on a particular girl group member, megan skiendiel. lucky for her, she was already on megan's radar.

“it was only a matter of time before you did something to make your pr team cry,” yunjin said, her voice thick with amusement as she leaned forward in her chair. “but god, y/n. i didn’t think you had it in you to be that bold.”

you didn’t bother to look at her. instead, you kept your focus on the half-empty iced americano in your hands, the straw poking at the lid like it had something to say too. “yeah yeah,” you muttered, tone dry. “keep it coming. get it all out.”

yunjin’s laughter filled the small recording studio, bouncing off the walls like an echo that didn’t know when to quit.

the first time you met her, you were rushing to a meeting at the hybe building, five minutes late and in no mood to reschedule. the elevator was almost closed when a hand slipped between the panels, smooth and effortless, like it was something out of a k-drama. yunjin stepped in a moment later, casual as anything, earbuds in, hoodie half-zipped, eyes flicking toward you.

she didn’t register who you were right away. not until she caught the outline of your face in the elevator mirror and did the most obvious quadruple take known to man. she grinned like she’d just won a bet. you raised an eyebrow. the doors shut.

your name had been climbing headlines at the time, especially after that marvel debut. you were still adjusting to the spotlight, to the way people started speaking about you like you were a headline first and a human being second. they called you the face of the next generation, a once-in-a-decade talent. you still weren’t sure what to do with that.

to her credit, yunjin didn’t immediately spiral. she told you later she’d nearly recited your entire filmography then and there but had somehow restrained herself. instead, she said, “you’re taller than i thought,” with a sort of breezy charm that made you laugh before you could stop yourself.

the novelty wore off quickly. by your third hangout, she was yelling at her flat iron over facetime and blaming you for jinxing her hair before mcountdown. the pedestal had crumbled, and in its place was something much better.

you adored her, truly. but right now? right now you wanted to strangle her.

“you do realize the internet’s having a meltdown, right?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder while fiddling with the dials on the studio mixer. “megan’s stans are going full detective mode. they’re gonna find the exact thread count of your bedsheets if you’re not careful.”

of course you knew. how could you not?

‎ 

‎it had all started at weekly idol. you and your costar, eunwoo, were the guests that day. minhyuk and hyeongjun were hosting. bright-eyed, energetic, and way too charismatic for nine in the morning. the moment you stepped on set, they bowed with exaggerated reverence and gasped like they’d seen ghosts.

“wow… everyone, protect the cameras,” minhyuk said, turning to the staff with mock urgency. “no way this equipment survives the visuals of both our guests at once.”

you laughed, cheeks heating despite yourself. the nerves hadn’t gone away even after a hundred interviews. your knee had bounced nonstop in the makeup chair. your hands wouldn’t sit still in your lap. you didn’t know why you were this on edge. it wasn’t like this was your first time.

eunwoo had noticed. he always noticed. he didn’t say much, but before your cue to enter, he gave you a quiet nod, a calm smile. just enough to settle the buzz in your chest.

the shoot went smoothly. laughter came easy. there was a moment you and eunwoo broke into an absurd duet of the show’s theme song, something so horrifically off-key that it ended up trending for twelve hours. and yet, what really caught fire was that one particular question.

“…so, y/n,” hyeongjun had said, reading off a laminated card with all the flair of a seasoned variety host. “you’ve caught the eye of the entire country. but has anyone caught your eye?”

you paused. of course you did. your manager’s disapproving face flashed through your brain like a warning siren, but you could already feel the words rising. the answer had been sitting with you for months now, quiet and patient.

you thought of coachella. of watching a failed backflip send some poor guy crashing to the ground mid-performance, which made you laugh for far too long. and how somehow, down that spiral of linked videos and fuzzy 420p livestreams, you ended up watching three girls play roblox with him. that’s when you saw her. megan skiendiel. orange wig, infectious laugh, that strange but graceful way she moved that made you look twice.

she was stunning. but it wasn’t just that. it was the way she felt. vibrant. sincere. like she wasn’t trying to be anyone but herself.

you could still remember the way your cheeks felt warm when you finally answered.

“uh, well, i don’t usually think about stuff like that,” you said carefully, then smiled despite yourself. “but i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous. i mean, i’d love to meet her. she seems fun. like the kind of person you’d want to be friends with.”

innocent enough. 

‎ 

or so you thought.

now, here you were, spinning idly on a swivel chair in yunjin’s recording booth, trying not to meet her smug eyes.

“you should’ve said nothing,” she said, clearly enjoying herself. “or lied. something. anything. instead, you went full disney channel crush monologue.”

“i thought it was harmless,” you argued, voice climbing in pitch. “i didn’t think the entire internet would spiral into an fbi task force over a throwaway comment. seriously, doesn’t anyone have jobs?”

“you’re y/n,” yunjin shot back, twirling a pencil between her fingers. “you know people hang onto your words like they’re stock tips. you practically lit a flare above her name with that answer.”

“i didn’t even say anything that bad! i called her pretty and said she seemed fun. i said the same thing about you last week on dex’s fridge.”

“right, but you didn’t look like you were about to pass out from heart palpitations when you said it about me. you didn’t blush. you didn’t pause like you were imagining your wedding vows. babe, you looked like you were one blink away from writing her poetry.”

“you’re being so dramatic.”

“am i?” she raised an eyebrow. “because you may as well have held a ‘simp’ sign and worn a megan skiendiel stan shirt. even sungchan has more chill than that. sungchan, y/n.”

you groaned at the mention of your tall, hopelessly clumsy mutual. “low blow.”

“i’m just saying.” she shrugged, biting back a grin. “even you know i’m right.”

and unfortunately, you kind of did.

“okay, but for real,” yunjin said, dragging her chair over with a squeak that made you wince. she rested her elbows on her knees, chin in her hands, looking at you like she was about to stage an intervention. “what are you gonna do if she actually reaches out?”

you blinked, caught off guard by the shift in her tone. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, say she dms you. or tags you in some story. or, i don’t know, shows up at your next premiere with a bouquet of roses and a sign that says ‘hi crush.’ what then?” she asked. “you gonna freak out and melt into the floor? you gonna invite her to karaoke and try to play it cool while secretly dying inside?”

you turned away and took a long, pointed sip of your coffee.

“no, but seriously,” she pressed, clearly not letting it go. “you like her, don’t you?”

you snorted. “i’ve never even met her.”

“not what i asked.”

you sighed, letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thud. “i don’t know. maybe.”

yunjin tilted her head. “that’s a yes.”

“it’s not a yes,” you said, but your voice was too quiet to sound convincing. “i just think she’s��� interesting.”

“gorgeous, fun, interesting,” she ticked off on her fingers. “mmhmm. yeah. sounds like someone’s caught feelings off vibes and roblox streams alone. that’s powerful.”

you groaned again and rolled your eyes, but the sound that left your throat was somewhere between embarrassment and reluctant laughter. “you make it sound so unhinged.”

“it is unhinged,” she said without missing a beat. “but it’s also kind of cute. in a really stupid, romcom kind of way. you, falling for a girl you’ve never met because she made you laugh through a pixelated camera while dressed like a traffic cone.”

you narrowed your eyes. “it was a very good orange wig.”

“never said it wasn’t,” she said with a shrug. “you’re just proving my point.”

you exhaled slowly, running a hand down your face. “look, i didn’t mean for any of this to happen. i just answered the question honestly. i wasn’t trying to stir up some whole thing.”

“but you did,” she said gently. ”and maybe that’s not the worst thing in the world.”

you looked at her, unsure how to respond.

“she could be into it,” yunjin said, her voice lighter again. “she should be into it. if i was her, i’d be clearing my schedule and calling my stylist for a camera-ready fit. do you even know how many people would kill to be publicly flirted with by you?”

“i wasn’t flirting.”

“girl, you might as well have asked for her ring size.”

you groaned again and flopped forward, burying your face in your arms as yunjin broke into another fit of laughter. somewhere beneath the teasing and the noise, though, was something quieter. something you didn’t say out loud.

you kind of hoped she did reach out.

even just to say hi.

__

the dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of pipes behind the walls. manhua pages rustled faintly in the room next door, probably sophia flipping through her latest haul before bed, but otherwise the place had settled into a kind of hush that only came after midnight. the rest of the girls had turned in after rehearsals, legs sore, voices hoarse, the kind of tired that sank into the bones. megan had stayed behind in the living room, half-sprawled across the floor with a pillow hugged to her chest and a cold bottle of pocari pressed under her jaw.

she was still in her practice clothes, oversized hoodie and bike shorts, skin sticky with the last remnants of sweat she hadn’t bothered to wipe off properly. her hair was clipped up haphazardly, strands falling into her face as she stared down at her phone, blue light painting her features in a soft, ghostly glow.

she wasn’t really expecting anything when she opened twitter. just a quick scroll before bed, a way to shut her brain off after a day of hitting choreography until her ankles burned. but then she saw the video. saw her name. and froze.

“Y/N CONFIRMS SHE’S A FAN OF KATSEYE’S MEGAN 🫢🫢🫢”

she clicked it.

the clip wasn’t long. maybe thirty seconds, a little more. it was some variety show. she recognized eunwoo immediately, bright-eyed and relaxed in the way only he ever seemed to be on camera. y/n sat beside him, posture a little straighter than usual, nerves twitching under the surface despite the easy smile on her face.

megan watched the moment unfold. the way the question was asked. the pause. the sheepish smile. 

“i think katseye’s megan is absolutely gorgeous.”

the words shouldn’t have done anything. people said things like that all the time. fans. hosts. stylists brushing out her hair before a shoot. it wasn’t new. but the way y/n said it, quiet, thoughtful, almost like she was holding back something bigger… it sat heavy in megan’s chest as the clip ended and replayed itself automatically.

she watched it again. and then a third time.

her notifications were already a mess. katseye’s name trending alongside y/n’s, clips being reposted with fan captions and edits, screenshots of the moment paired with captions like “megan better WAKE UP” and “y/n join the line babe”. she should’ve laughed. part of her did. but underneath it, something shifted. something warm and unsure and a little bit dizzy.

y/n had been on her radar for a while, if she was being honest. megan wasn’t the type to crush easily, but there was something about her. it started with a film. some sci-fi action thing that megan only half paid attention to until y/n showed up on screen and suddenly everything was more interesting. after that, it was interviews. behind the scenes clips. a fan edit that popped up on her for you page one morning and made her miss a whole subway stop because she got too caught up in it.

and now this.

megan opened y/n’s instagram without really thinking. her thumb hovered over the follow button. she stared at it for a long second, teeth sinking into her bottom lip.

she didn’t press it.

not yet.

instead, she set her phone down on the floor beside her and let her eyes drift to the ceiling. her heart was beating faster than it had any right to.

“gorgeous,” she murmured under her breath, voice barely audible. “fun. wants to be friends.”

maybe she could work with that.

‎ 

sleep didn’t come easy to her that night.  before she knew it, the night shifted to morning and she had to get up. the studio called her name, as it seemed to relentlessly the past month and some change. 

sophia, daniela, and yoonchae were already mid-run-through when megan walked into the practice room, the tail end of the “gnarly” chorus echoing faintly from the speakers. sophia’s voice cut clean through the track, daniela’s movements sharp and deliberate. yoonchae was quiet, as usual, but every step she made was crisp, clockwork precise.

megan had barely stepped into the center of the room when she heard it.

“so.” lara didn’t even look up from where she was sitting, stretching her legs out and leaning back on her palms. “anything you wanna share with the class?”

megan blinked. “what?”

manon turned her head slowly from where she was sitting several notches away, a teasing gleam in her eyes. she answers as if it’s obvious. honestly, it really was. “y/n.”

megan tensed immediately. “oh god.”

“yup,” lara said, like she had been waiting all morning for this. “you’ve been blowing up on stan twitter since seven a.m. and don’t think we didn’t notice how fast you saved that clip on the shared account”

“i didn’t save it,” megan muttered, grabbing her water bottle a little too fast. “i just… happened to see it. once.”

“megan,” manon said, eyes narrowing just slightly. “you’ve been quiet all morning. the last time you shut the fuck up was when you saw scarlett johanson do the splits in that one captain america movie. don’t lie to us.”

lara laughed under her breath. “she said you were gorgeous, wanted to be friends. oh, how romantic. i bet you probably watched it ten times over.”

“i did not,” megan said, practically choking on her water. “i just didn’t expect it, okay? i wasn’t mentally prepared.”

“mentally prepared for what?” manon said, raising a brow. “a compliment? you’ve been in magazines. people compliment you all the time.”

“not her,” megan said, before immediately realizing what she’d just admitted out loud. she froze. “i mean. not like. you know. never mind.”

lara clapped once, too loud. “that’s it. someone get her phone. we’re crafting a dm.”

“absolutely not,” megan said, panic already bubbling in her chest. “i’ll die.”

“what are you gonna do?” manon said. “wait until she magically appears in the dorms living room?”

megan buried her face in her hoodie. “maybe.”

“this is tragic,” lara said. “you have the golden opportunity of a lifetime and you’re out here acting like she’s a tax bill.”

“can we please change the subject,” megan mumbled, voice muffled in fabric.

“nope,” manon said, standing up and walking towards her. “group vote says you’re dming her.”

lara held out a hand. “seconded.”

from across the room, daniela raised a hand mid-step. “thirded.”

megan didn’t even look up. “yoonchae. please. save me.”

yoonchae just gave a small shrug, barely breaking from the choreo. megan groaned into her sleeve.

yep. she was on her own. not even sophia batted an eyelash, the filippinas glossy lips tilting up into a small grin where she was by the mirrors. 

megan sat down cross-legged on the floor with her phone clutched in both hands like it might explode. her back was hunched, eyes glued to the screen, and the expression on her face hovered somewhere between total focus and a full-blown identity crisis.

“you haven’t even opened instagram yet,” manon pointed out, sitting behind her and peering over her shoulder.

“i’m getting to it,” megan muttered.

lara flopped down next to her with a dramatic sigh. “this is painful to watch. if you go any slower, we’ll be here until yoonchae turns twenty-seven.”

megan unlocked her phone with a resigned swipe. “what do i even say? like. what do people say when they’re trying not to sound weird?”

lara took a breath. “okay. let’s start simple. ‘hi y/n, thanks for saying i’m pretty on tv—”

“i’m not saying that.”

“‘you have great taste in women’—”

“lara.”

“‘let’s be friends (or more if you’re free saturday night)’—”

megan covered her face with both hands. “why did i think listening to you was a good idea.”

manon leaned her chin on megan’s shoulder. “fine. try this. ‘hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!’ short, polite, friendly. not scary.”

megan peeked at her. “…that’s not terrible.”

lara squinted. “it’s boring.”

“it’s safe,” manon said, grabbing megan’s phone and typing it out with quick thumbs. “she’s not asking her to elope, she’s just acknowledging it.”

megan took the phone back and read it over like it was a contract. “…what if she doesn’t reply?”

“then you delete your account and we pretend this never happened,” lara said. “easy.”

“lara,” manon sighed.

megan stared at the message for a long moment. her thumb hovered. then tapped. then hovered again.

“just hit send,” daniela called from across the room, not even looking up from her stretching. “we can feel your hesitation from over here.”

“seriously,” sophia added, “you’re vibrating.”

megan sucked in a breath through her teeth. and then, with her eyes closed and her stomach in her shoes, she hit send.

silence.

lara let out the longest, slowest gasp. “it’s done.”

manon patted her back. “you’re very brave.”

megan immediately flopped backward onto the floor like she’d just run a marathon. “i need to lie here forever. let me perish in peace.”

lara just grinned and offered her a thumbs up. “she’s gonna love it.”

megan covered her eyes. “i hate everything.”

never in a million years would she have expected that one simple action to change everything. 

__

the cafe was warm in that familiar, lived-in kind of way. wood-paneled walls framed by climbing ivy, soft light filtering through dusty windows, and the scent of espresso baked into the air like it had nowhere else to go. outside, a quiet drizzle tapped at the glass, slow and steady, painting the sidewalk in watercolor streaks. inside, the soft clatter of dishes and hum of conversation made everything feel just far enough from the noise of your schedule to breathe.

you were at a small table near the back, the kind that rocked a little if you leaned on it wrong. yunjin sat across from you, one leg thrown over the other, straw bent at an aggressive angle in her lemonade. beside her, sungchan had his jacket slung over his chair and a look of mild betrayal on his face as he stared down at the salad yunjin had goaded him into ordering.

“i’m just saying,” she said, picking a piece of arugula off his plate like it belonged to her, “you can’t order a burger four days in a row and then complain about your skin breaking out.”

“it’s called balance,” sungchan muttered, dragging his fork through the greens with the resigned air of someone deeply offended by roughage. “i had a banana this morning.”

“oh wow,” she deadpanned. “one whole banana. call the olympic committee, this man is the pinnacle of health.”

he gave her a flat look. “didn’t you eat instant tteokbokki at two in the morning and then text me about your stomach cramps like it was my fault?”

“okay, first of all, you’re my emotional support contact when i make poor life choices. second of all, i still looked hot while doing it.”

you blinked slowly, chin in your hand, eyes fixed on the screen of your phone where the message sat.

hi, this is super random but i saw the clip from weekly idol and just wanted to say thank you. that was really sweet of you. hope we can meet someday!

megan had sent it two nights ago. you��d seen it the moment it came in, heart tripping over itself in the dark quiet of your bedroom. you didn’t answer. not right away. you told yourself you were busy, that you had scripts to review, meetings lined up. you told yourself it wasn’t ghosting if you intended to respond eventually.

but even now, hours and hours later, you were still here. still staring. still unsure what to say.

you had never been this nervous to talk to someone before.

“okay, this is depressing,” yunjin said, snapping her fingers in your direction. “hey. eyes up. you look like someone just broke up with you via powerPoint.”

sungchan leaned in a little, squinting at you. “are you sick? you’re weirdly quiet. usually you’d be insulting us by now.”

“i’m not sick,” you said quickly, locking your phone and setting it face down on the table. “just… thinking.”

“thinking about what?” yunjin asked, tone tilting toward nosy in that way only close friends could get away with.

you hesitated.

“oh my god,” she gasped. “you’re in love.”

“i’m not in love,” you said, too fast, which only made sungchan snort into his water.

“that’s what people say right before they confess they’re in love,” he said, dabbing at his chin with a napkin like he hadn’t just inhaled half a slice of garlic bread. “who is it?”

“nobody,” you said.

yunjin leaned forward with the exact expression of someone who knew they were right. “it’s megan, isn’t it?”

you didn’t answer. you didn’t have to. the look on your face gave you away.

sungchan let out a low whistle. “oh. that megan. the ‘gorgeous, fun, would love to be friends’ megan.”

you groaned, resting your forehead on your palm. “do you all memorize everything i say or are you just stalking my interviews for sport?”

“yes,” they said at the same time.

“okay but seriously,” yunjin said, nudging your phone with one perfectly manicured finger. “she messaged you, right?”

you nodded.

“and you didn’t reply because…?”

you sighed. “i don’t know. because it’s her. because i don’t want to mess it up. because what if she’s just being nice and this whole thing is way more casual to her than it is to me?”

sungchan tilted his head. “you mean what if she’s cool and normal and not secretly writing fanfiction about you the way you’re doing about her?”

yunjin grinned. “do you want us to help you write back? or are you planning to keep having an existential crisis over a very cute dm?”

you glanced at the screen again. your reflection looked back at you in the black glass, soft and unsure.

“i’ll write back,” you said quietly.

“good,” yunjin said, leaning back in her chair with a pleased expression. “because if you didn’t, i was gonna pretend to be you and do it myself.”

“you’re terrifying,” sungchan said, which she accepted as a compliment.

you looked back at the message one more time. your heart was still beating a little too fast, but maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. maybe it meant you actually cared. that it mattered.

you took a breath. opened the keyboard.

and started to type.

your fingers hovered for a second too long over the keyboard. the blinking cursor stared back at you like it knew you were stalling. you could feel yunjin’s eyes on you, sharp and expectant, like she might actually snatch the phone from your hands if you hesitated any longer. sungchan, mercifully, had gone back to his salad, occasionally picking at it like it was an alien lifeform.

hi megan! sorry for the slow reply, things have been a little hectic lately. i saw your message and honestly it kind of made my whole week lol. thank you for reaching out :)

you paused. read it again. deleted the smiley. retyped it. added a second sentence.

i’d really love to meet too if you’re ever free.

then you stared at it some more.

“this is painful,” yunjin muttered. “just hit send. what’s the worst that could happen?”

“she leaves me on read and i spontaneously combust from shame,” you said flatly.

“dramatic,” sungchan mumbled, chewing like a cow. “but valid.”

“she won’t leave you on read,” yunjin said, more gently this time. “she messaged you first. that counts for something.”

you looked down at the screen one last time. your thumb hovered over the send button. your stomach turned a slow, clumsy flip. and then, before you could second guess yourself again, you pressed it.

message sent.

you didn’t breathe for a full five seconds.

“there,” yunjin said, smug now. “look at you. being brave.”

“i already regret this,” you mumbled, locking your phone again and pushing it away like it might explode.

“do you want a cookie?” sungchan asked, peering at the dessert menu. “i feel like this moment deserves a cookie.”

you blinked at him. “why do you always want to eat after stressful emotional events?”

“because i am a man of simple needs,” he said, deadpan. “and also because cookies are comforting.”

“he’s not wrong,” yunjin said, flagging down the waiter with the kind of unearned confidence that came from growing up with three older siblings and no shame. except, she didn’t. “three chocolate chip, please. and a round of iced americanos. she’s going to need the caffeine.”

you sank back into your seat, still feeling the rush of adrenaline buzzing under your skin. outside, the rain had picked up a little, streaking the windows like silver threads. inside, everything smelled like sugar and espresso and something warm baking in the oven.

you didn’t know if megan would reply. maybe she’d be busy. maybe she’d forget. but for now, you’d done the hardest part.

you’d answered, and that felt like enough for today.

that was, at least, until your phone chimed.

the sound sliced through the moment like a needle popping a balloon. all three of you froze. your eyes shot to the screen where the notification banner was still lingering like a ghost.

megan skiendiel: that sounds perfect :) when are you free?

yunjin let out an actual gasp, loud and dramatic enough to make the table behind you glance over. sungchan dropped his fork.

“no way,” yunjin hissed, already leaning across the table to see. “no actual way. she replied that fast? is she a robot?”

you didn’t say anything. you just stared. your heart had lodged itself somewhere in your throat, beating so hard it made your ears ring. megan had replied. not just replied but enthusiastically. and with a smiley. the exact one you had almost deleted from your own message.

“hello?” sungchan waved a hand in front of your face. “earth to y/n. what did she say? is it something scandalous? are we finally getting to live vicariously through your love life?”

you shoved your phone toward them without speaking.

yunjin read the message out loud like it was a line from a sacred text. “‘that sounds perfect. when are you free.’” then she looked up at you with her mouth already forming a wicked grin. “she wants to hang out. like, actually hang out. she’s asking you out.”

“not asking me out,” you said quickly, the heat creeping up the back of your neck. “just… asking when i’m free.”

“same thing,” sungchan said, picking his fork back up and pointing it at you like it was a weapon. “in celebrity speak that is basically a confession of love. i’ve seen the charts.”

“you made those charts,” you reminded him.

“and they’re scientifically sound.”

“okay but seriously,” yunjin cut in, phone still in hand, “when are you free? do you have a day off coming up?”

you blinked, trying to force your brain back into scheduling mode. “uh… friday afternoon? maybe?”

“perfect,” she said, already typing something. “tell her friday. tell her you’re free after lunch. keep it casual. breezy. like you’re not obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

you shot her a look. “i am obsessively analyzing every possible outcome of this conversation.”

“which is why you need us,” sungchan said with his mouth full of cookie. “we’re here to keep you from imploding.”

your phone buzzed again.

megan skiendiel: i’m free friday after seven. wanna grab coffee? i can send you a spot i like

you didn’t even get a chance to reply before yunjin squealed.

sungchan raised both hands to the sky. “oh my god. it’s happening. it’s actually happening.”

you stared at the message, barely breathing, heart thudding like a drum inside your chest.

coffee. with megan.

you were either about to make a new friend or absolutely ruin your entire life trying.

weirdly… you couldn’t wait to find out which.

__

friday showed up before you were ready for it.

“i feel like a dad on prom night,” sungchan said, flopped across your couch like a man waiting for judgment day. he hugged a pillow to his stomach like it might shield him from the chaos. “except hotter. and younger. and not emotionally repressed.

“you’re eating chips with your shirt inside out,”chaewon deadpanned, looking sungchan up and down judgmentally.. “you look like a walking identity crisis.”  

then she turned, peering around the corner into your bedroom.

“y/n, i can’t believe you’re finally going on a date. talk about a breakthrough.”

yunjin sat cross legged on the floor, scrolling through her phone like she wasn’t the one who casually mentioned your date in front of everyone. the very second chaewon heard, she practically chomped at the bit, begging yunjin to bring her along to watch it all unfold. to say your love life was a spectacle among your friends would be an understatement.

“for the record,” you called from your room, still getting ready, “i said no to bringing chaewon.”

“for the record,” chaewon shouted back, “we overruled you. this is a democracy.”

“it’s so not.”

you stepped out, halfway dressed, holding up two completely different tops.

“black or white?”

“ooh,” yunjin said, squinting like she was inspecting a rare museum artifact. “black is hot. white is sweet. depends on the vibe you’re going for.”

“the vibe is ‘i want to look cute but not like i tried too hard because if i think about this too long i will throw myself into traffic’.”

“black,” chaewon and sungchan said in unison.

you sighed and nodded, disappearing back into the room. the air buzzed with the sound of sungchan crunching loudly and chaewon whispering to yunjin like they were spies on a mission.

“lets make a bet. ten dollars says she has a breakdown before she even leaves the house.” chaewon whispered.

“twenty says she embarrasses herself throwing up in megan’s car.” yunjin whispered back.

“guys,” you said, poking your head out again. “i can hear you.”

“we know,” they all said at the same time.

your phone dinged again.

megan skiendiel: on my way. i’ll be at your door in a minute. also, did you know your bellhop likes our music? he almost fainted when he let me up lol

you stared at the message for two full seconds before the others caught the change in your face like wolves spotting weakness. you barely had time to blink before the room exploded.

“oh my god,” sungchan shot up from the couch like someone yelled ‘fire!’. the chip bag in his hands crinkled louder than a car alarm. “was that her? is she outside? do we hide? do we have a code word if things go sideways?”

“wait, she’s coming up here?” chaewon gasped, already rising with a dramatic flair. “this place is a disaster zone!”

“i cleaned for you people,” you hissed, throwing a pointed look at the water bottles on the coffee table and the lone sock draped suspiciously over the lamp.

“yeah, and we immediately undid all of it,” yunjin said, waving a hand at the chaos like it was a museum exhibit. “you’re welcome.”

sungchan grabbed his phone, replacing the cushion he clutched. “this is it. our little baby’s first date.”

“shut up,” you muttered, cheeks heating like you’d just been called out in front of the world. “and put that damn phone down. if i see you take even one photo, i’ll beat your ass. besides, it’s not a date.”

three pairs of eyes locked onto you in unison.

“coffee with the girl you’ve been thinking about nonstop for two weeks,” chaewon said, crossing her arms with the confidence of a daytime talk show host.

“wearing the ‘hot top’, nervous enough to sweat through your socks,” yunjin added, giving you an appraising look.

“with three unpaid emotional support staff waiting at home,” sungchan finished, voice thick with mock solemnity.

your gaze snapped back and forth between the three of them, and you cringed inwardly. okay, they were right. this was definitely a date.

then, knock knock knock.

you froze for a second, heart thudding so loud you were sure they could hear it in the next room. you opened the door, and there she was.

megan stood on the other side like a vision in the hallway light, hair catching the glow just right, a smile that was equal parts warm and mischievous.

behind you, the trio froze mid-move like they’d just been caught doing something they definitely shouldn’t. they exchanged shiteating grins that barely hid how badly they were eavesdropping. yunjin quickly pulled out her phone like she was suddenly very interested in something, but her eyes kept darting toward the door. chaewon leaned against the wall, looking way too relaxed for someone who was clearly dying to say something, and sungchan sprawled on the couch with the kind of lazy cool that screamed i’m totally innocent. when megan’s eyes flicked over to them, they all waved with big, overly casual smiles like innocent bystanders who just happened to be hanging out, except no one was buying it.

but then megan’s eyes locked onto yours and suddenly everything else around you faded into the background. your breath hitched without warning and your brain scrambled like it was trying to process a beautiful glitch in reality.

you’d only ever seen her through a screen before. live streams where she smiled like the sun was just for her, short clips where she moved with effortless grace, and that one quick instagram deep dive you’d done when she messaged you. but now, here she was in real life, and she was something else entirely.

her skin caught the soft light of your penthouse, glowing like it had its own quiet radiance. her eyes were bigger and deeper than you expected, dark and shimmering like they held a secret you wanted to know. the way her hair fell in loose waves around her face softened her sharp cheekbones and made her look both fierce and kind at the same time.

she wasn’t just pretty. she was the kind of stunning that made you forget words and wish you could rewind the moment just to stare a little longer. standing there, frozen with your mouth slightly open, you realized this was the first time you were seeing her. not a filtered version, not a quick snapshot. but the real her. and it was breathtaking.

“hi,” megan said, and the word came out with a lopsided grin that cracked through the tension in your chest like sunlight through a fogged-up window. her voice was warm, lilting, a little too casual for someone who had just walked in looking like a daydream in denim baggy jeans and a bomber jacket. she rocked slightly on her heels and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, like she was fighting the urge to do a small nervous dance.

“hi,” you replied, except it sounded more like a squeak than anything human. your throat betrayed you. of course it did.

then her eyes flicked over your shoulder, and that grin stretched even wider.

“hey guys!” she waved, cheerful like she’d just walked into a party of old friends instead of three people very poorly pretending to mind their own business. “love the casual surveillance vibe you’ve got going on in here.”

“we’re chill,” sungchan said, lounging so awkwardly on the couch he almost slid off it. 

“so chill,” chaewon added, nodding solemnly from her place at the wall, where she’d become one with a houseplant.

“this is how we always sit,” yunjin said, phone upside down in her hand, gaze glued directly to megan’s face. “completely normal. zero eavesdropping. you can’t prove otherwise.”

megan let out a laugh, scrunching her nose as she looked back at you. “your friends are amazing.”

“they’re something,” you muttered, grabbing your bag before your legs could decide to walk without you.

“so,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck and bouncing slightly on her toes. “you ready? or do you need a few more minutes to, like, peel them off the furniture?”

you gave a quiet laugh, trying not to show that your hands were already clammy. “nope. ready.”

megan smiled again. softer this time. like she was seeing you for real. “cool. let’s go, then.”

and with that, you stepped out into whatever this was going to be, your heart doing cartwheels the entire way.

‎ 

truthfully, megan’s car wasn’t what you’d expected. some part of you, the part still convinced the universe had a twisted sense of humor, had pictured something absurd. maybe a crop duster or even the rusty tow truck from cars. something loud. chaotic. entirely un-date-like. instead, it was a sleek black suv. understated but sharp, just like her.

from the passenger seat, you couldn’t help sneaking glances. megan’s focus was fixed on the road, her jaw tense, her hands gripping the wheel like she was bracing for impact.

“you look nervous,” you said, a little too gently.

“o-oh, well. you know.” her voice cracked slightly as she coughed into her shoulder, eyes flicking toward you before immediately darting back to the windshield. she gave you a crooked grin, brief and almost sheepish. “i am. honestly, i feel like i’m going to vomit.”

you laughed before you could help it. light, surprised. “vomit? that’s dramatic.”

“i mean, maybe,” she said, her eyes narrowing playfully for half a second before softening again. “it’s just… i didn’t expect to actually be here. with you. not in a bad way. in a surreal way.”

you felt the flush creep across your cheeks before you even registered it, a warmth that pooled somewhere in your chest. still, you tilted your head toward her, teasing. “i can’t tell if you mean that as a compliment or not.”

megan practically panicked. “no! no, no no, not at all. god, please, that’s the silliest thing i’ve ever heard.” her words came out too fast, tripping over themselves. she shook her head like it would help untangle the knot in her thoughts. “i’m just nervous, okay? i keep overthinking it. like, what if i say something dumb, or do something weird, or—”

her voice dropped slightly, and she added, almost under her breath, “you’re so pretty i can’t think straight.”

then she froze, eyes widening as if realizing she’d said it out loud. her face goes red, a grimace pulling across her lips. she lifts a hand off the wheel to gently facepalm herself, pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers. “please ignore me. i’m begging,”

you could only watch. you don’t know when the fond grin crossed your lips. when your heart skipped a beat, when her endearing clumsiness had you relaxing in your seat. perhaps knowing that she was just as, if not more, nervous as you made you feel relieved. after a beat, you laughed. soft. her eyes lit up as she glanced at you from her peripheral, the short noise drawing her from her thoughts.

“you’re fine,” you said, quiet but real. “i’ve been looking forward to tonight too.”

“really?”

“yeah. do you think i’d let my friends invade my house all week just for fun? they’ve been insufferable, harassing me all week. i guess i maybe haven’t made it all that secret that i’ve been interested in you for a while.” then you shake your head. “interested in meeting, that is.”

this time it was megan’s turn to crack a stupid grin.

whatever nerves you felt immediately disappeared the longer you talked to each other. truth be told, you were worried whether you’d get along as well as you hoped you would. part of you worried that once you saw each other, it’d be awkward. quiet. instead megan somehow managed to fill the silence with conversation. she asked about your family, about your day, about your friends. in turn you asked about hers.

she laughed at something you said. not even something that funny, really, just a small comment about the gas station snacks you liked. but the way she laughed, like she meant it, like she wasn’t just being polite, made your chest feel lighter. her voice filled the car, soft but certain, and the road hummed under the tires like it was part of the conversation.

you glanced over at her. she was driving with one hand on the wheel, the other resting near the gear shift. her thumb tapped along to the music playing low through the speakers. some indie band neither of you had heard before but had both agreed sounded “pretty good.” it was easy. easier than you expected.

you didn’t have to think too hard before speaking. there was no second guessing. no awkward pauses that made you reach for your phone or pretend to check the map. she asked about the book in your bag and you told her it was something you started three times but never finished. she admitted she did that too, more often than she’d like to admit. you both laughed again.

the sky outside started to shift, the blue softening into a hazy gold. you weren’t sure how long you’d been driving, only that time felt different in the car with her. stretched out. slowed down. kinder.

it didn’t take long for her to park outside a cafe, but neither of you moved to get out. instead, you agreed to order to go. that’s how you ended up here. still in her car, windows slightly cracked, the warm scent of coffee filling the space between you. your drink sat snug in the cupholder, hands curled around it for warmth, and a half-eaten bagel rested in your lap. just outside the windshield, the lights of seoul shimmered across the han river, soft and golden against the night.

she didn’t seem in any rush to leave, and neither were you.

after a long sip of coffee, the next question came out without much thought.

“how long are you in korea for this time?”

“another week, give or take,” she said, eyes flicking to the skyline, like she was already counting down.

“do you miss home?”

“i do. yeah. i miss my car, mostly. it’s my baby. a bmw m3.”

you looked at her, eyebrows raised. “whoever handed you the keys to a sports car must have had a serious lapse in judgment. you drive this suv like you’ve got a personal vendetta against the speed limit.”

she let out a laugh, head tipping back slightly. “what can i say? i like to go fast.”

“sure. until we’re airborne.”

“oh, come on,” she grinned. “you weren’t complaining when you were riding shotgun, all cozy and content, full-on passenger princess mode.”

you rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “i was holding onto the door for dear life.”

“you were vibing,” she said.

“i was surviving,” you shot back, but it was playful, light.

the silence that followed wasn’t awkward. it was the kind that settled easy between two people who’d already found a rhythm.

megan reached for her own cup, nearly knocking over the paper bag between you in the process. the bagel inside gave a sad little flop onto the console. she froze.

“whoops. that was... not smooth.”

you laughed, nudging the bag gently back toward her. “you’re a menace behind the wheel and a danger to pastries. noted.”

she gave you a sheepish smile, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “yeah, i’m really killing it tonight, huh?”

“actually,” you said, voice a little softer, “i’ve had a really nice time.”

she blinked at you, surprised. “yeah?”

you nodded, looking out toward the river before meeting her eyes again. “i was kinda nervous. not because of you, just... sometimes people are different in person. it doesn’t always click.”

megan was quiet for a second, then gave a small, crooked smile. “i was worried about that too. i overthink everything. i even tried to pick a good playlist just in case the conversation died and we needed... filler noise or something.”

you laughed. “is that why i’ve been listening to three hours of sad indie girls?”

“they’re emotionally articulate,” she said, pretending to be offended, but her grin gave her away. “besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

you leaned back against the seat, stretching your legs out a bit. “yeah. it really did.”

the city lights danced in her eyes when she looked at you, soft and a little uncertain, but there was warmth there too. the kind that made the car feel smaller, safer.

“you’re easy to talk to,” she said after a moment, quieter than before.

you smiled, heart tugging just slightly at her honesty. “so are you.”

a comfortable silence settled again, the kind where neither of you felt the need to fill it. the engine ticked softly as it cooled, and in the background, another melancholic song hummed through the speakers.

“i was gonna try and act all chill and collected,” megan said eventually, gaze fixed on the skyline. “but then i fumbled, almost crashed into that curb, and now my bagel is probably in pieces.”

“you’re doing great,” you said, trying not to smile too much. “like, truly elite first impression.”

she turned to face you, eyes bright despite the dim light. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

and just like that, the nerves that had once lingered in the corners of your chest felt like a distant memory.

__

after that night in the car, things shifted. not in a big, dramatic way. no sudden declarations, no fireworks. just small things. steadier things.

your conversations moved from instagram dms to real texts. it felt natural. seamless. one day she asked for your number like it wasn’t a big deal, like she hadn’t already been in your head more than you cared to admit. and you gave it without hesitation, like it wasn’t a risk. like you already knew she’d treat it right.

when she left korea, it was quiet. no big goodbye, no emotional scene. she texted you from the airport, a blurry photo of her and a coffee she swore was going to keep her awake through the flight. from there, the messages kept going. even with the time difference, she found time to talk. random updates. sleepy selfies. voice notes with a little static in the background because she always seemed to be walking somewhere, or in a van, or waiting backstage. sometimes she’d send a song with no context. sometimes just a “this reminded me of you” followed by a meme that made absolutely no sense.

you talked about everything and nothing. the shows she was doing. the tiny hotel rooms she was crashing in. how much she missed sophia’s dog, chanel. how lara had started sleep talking again. how yoonchae had near cried when she had to say goodbye to her parents again when they returned to california.

you told her about your week, the upcoming film you’re wrapping up shooting, your friends, the late-night ramen run that ended in rain and ruined shoes.

some nights, the conversations lasted until one of you fell asleep mid-text. other nights, it was just a good morning or goodnight, quick but never careless.

somehow, she made the space between you feel smaller.

it didn’t take long for others to start noticing your budding friendship, either. 

if there was one thing you should know about megan skiendiel, it’s that she’s stubborn. fiercely so. once she feels something, she clings to it with both hands. no disguises, no apologies. she doesn’t know how to be subtle and doesn’t try to be. her heart shows up before she even walks into the room.

and lately, her heart had a habit of mentioning you. probably more than it should have.

the first time was during a casual sit-down with a popular youtuber. the question had been harmless enough.  “did you meet anyone interesting in korea?” 

megan didn’t even blink before your name tumbled out of her mouth.

behind her, manon practically doubled over laughing while lara muttered something about “bad timing” and “inside jokes.” the clip went viral within the hour.

eyekons weren’t buying the act. they knew.

especially after that solo live.

‎ 

megan sank into the couch with a sigh, stretching her legs over the coffee table as she adjusted her phone. It’d been a long day. dance practice ran overtime, vocal lessons left her voice raw, and all she wanted was to collapse into bed. but she had promised her fans a live, and the guilt of leaving them waiting weighed heavily on her.

she brushed  her hair back as the screen flickered to life. a wave of comments flooded in immediately, the chat scrolling too fast to keep up.

she smiled, a familiar warmth settling into her voice. "hi, everyone. It's been a while, huh?"

the dorm was quieter than usual. yoonchae and daniela were still at the studio, finishing up some recording. lara, sophia and manon were off doing who knows what. 

megan answered questions between sips of water, laughing as fans teased her. she talked about her love for food, and her habit of getting lost in airports. the conversation was easy, natural. she talked about practice, her favorite songs lately, and the games she'd been playing. it felt comfortable, like a casual late night talk with friends.

then, suddenly, the energy shifted. the comments exploded into chaos. fans were spamming messages faster than she had ever seen before.

"wait, what's happening?" she mumbled, eyes flicking over the chat, trying to make sense of the flood of messages.

then she saw it. a single line of text that had a dumb grin permanently etching itself across her face. 

y/n:  have you ate today? you look so cute with those glasses on! 

her eyes scanned the screen again just to make sure she hadn’t imagined it. but no. it was still there. your name. your message.

she dropped her hands into her lap and beamed, full teeth, no restraint. her cheeks were already tinged pink, and now they burned. she didn’t care.

“hi, y/n,” she said, voice soft but electric. “you’re really here, huh?”

the chat lost its mind. it was like someone had thrown gasoline on a bonfire. hearts, exclamation marks. 

megan didn’t even try to hide it.

“i wasn’t expecting that,” she said, practically bouncing in place now. “like, i thought maybe you’d be busy or… i don’t know, being famous and cool and doing actor things.”

she laughed a short, nervous little burst,  then leaned closer to the screen, like it might bring her to you.

“i did eat, by the way. i wasn’t gonna wear the glasses, but my eyes were tired and they help with the light. but… i’m glad you think they look nice.”

it wasn’t subtle. none of it was subtle.

she was glowing. lit from the inside out with the kind of joy that couldn’t be faked. and even though thousands of fans were watching, even though the chat was an overwhelming blur of reactions and chaos.  for that brief moment, it was like no one else existed. no one but you. 

‎ 

the third, perhaps most notorious time, was two weeks later.

‎ 

it was meant to be a harmless segment. a fluff piece for some new cosmopolitan youtube show. the kind with silly games and awkward dares and an entire soundboard dedicated to exaggerated gasps. katseye had been invited to promote their upcoming showcase, and the host had them lined up in pairs, facing each other in a game of “who knows who better.”

megan had been paired with sophia, which was dangerous from the start. the two had a history of throwing each other under the bus for the sake of comedy, and neither had a filter to speak of.

“okay, last round,” the host grinned, holding up a cue card. “this one’s just for fun. megan, sophia — name one person your partner talks about way too much.”

“oh no,” sophia said instantly, already grinning like the cat who got the cream.

megan groaned, head falling back dramatically. “don’t do this to me.”

“i have no choice,” sophia replied solemnly. “i’m under oath.”

the buzzer sounded and both girls scribbled their answers down on whiteboards. megan wrote slowly, trying to be clever, trying to think of a joke that would dodge the obvious. but when the timer buzzed again, she sighed and held it up.

so did sophia.

your name. in big, bold letters. twice.

the studio burst into laughter, and the host clutched his chest like he’d just witnessed the reveal of the century.

“wow,” he said, eyes flicking between the two of them. “not even a hesitation.”

“because it’s true,” sophia said, smug. “she’s in her ‘y/n era.’ we’re just living in it.”

megan was pink from ear to ear, trying — and failing — to hide behind her board. “that’s not true. okay, maybe a little true.”

“a little?” manon called from off-camera. “girl, you made us watch one of her movies three nights in a row.”

“it was for the plot,” megan shot back.

“uh-huh,” daniela deadpanned. “plot named y/n.”

the clip made the rounds before the show even finished airing. fancams popped up with captions like “megan being the president of y/n’s fan club for six minutes straight” and the internet did what it does best. spiral.

‎ 

through it all, megan didn’t deny a thing.

she couldn’t. not when her whole face lit up like a summer skyline every time your name came up. not when her bandmates had stopped teasing and started treating your existence as something inevitable, like the rising sun or the way manon always stole everyone’s chargers.

 by then, you weren’t just someone she mentioned.

in an industry known for silence, for secrecy and statements about “valuing privacy,” hybe was practically rolling out a red carpet. in korea, relationships in the spotlight were often treated like scandals waiting to happen. but the western fans? they were eating it up. every clipped interview, every suspiciously timed instagram like, every passing mention of your name on a live. it was all free press, and hybe knew it.

so they leaned in. quietly, strategically. no denials. no damage control. just subtle nudges that said, yeah, keep watching.

and it was driving her crazy. 

__

you weren’t exactly sure when it happened. when the feeling settled in your chest and decided to stay. maybe it had been there all along, hiding underneath the comfort of familiarity and the ease of your friendship. or maybe it grew slowly, in the quiet moments you never thought to mark.

it could’ve been during the weeks she was gone, promoting outside of korea. the distance was supposed to make things simpler. safer. but instead, it just made her absence louder. knowing you were still the first person she messaged in the morning and the last one she talked to before sleep made your chest ache in a way you didn’t have a name for yet.

or maybe it was that one night, the one where you called her just to vent about a costar who had spent the entire day getting under your skin. you were halfway through a breathless rant when you noticed it. the way she was watching you through the screen. how she wasn’t just nodding politely or checking her phone or letting her attention drift. she was listening. really listening. her eyes softened when you got frustrated, lit up when you said something funny. when your voice cracked just a little from tiredness, she didn’t interrupt. she just stayed with you. present and still. like holding space for you was the most natural thing in the world.

and somewhere in all of that, it hit you.

you were in love with megan skiendiel. painfully. undeniably. fully.

at first, you were terrified. quietly, achingly scared. because what were you supposed to do with a feeling like this? loving megan had crept up on you, soft and slow, the way a sunset slips past the horizon before you even realize it’s gone. and now that it was here, fully formed and impossible to ignore, you didn’t know how to carry it.

megan had become a constant. someone who felt less like a friend and more like a fixture. someone you could turn to at any hour, knowing she’d listen without judgment, laugh at your bad jokes, sit in silence if that’s what you needed. she never made you feel like too much or not enough. she just saw you. and the last thing you wanted was to ruin something that good with feelings you didn’t know how to manage.

so you kept it quiet. buried it under casual texts and late-night calls. told yourself it wasn’t the right time. told yourself maybe it didn’t need to be said at all.

but then the girls were coming back to korea. six months had passed since their last visit, and the moment megan found out they’d be landing soon, she called you. not texted. not waited. called.

you’d picked up on the first ring.

and now, you were standing at your front door, fingers still curled around the handle, staring at the very girl who had been living rent-free in your head for months.

before you could even speak, megan threw her arms around you. the force of it almost knocked you back a step. her dark brown hair smelled like travel and lavender shampoo and something unmistakably her. she held you like she’d been counting down the days to this moment. like she’d been holding her breath all the way across oceans and could finally breathe again now that she was here.

her arms were warm and tight around you, her face tucked into the crook of your neck. for a few seconds, neither of you said anything. and for the first time in weeks, your heart didn’t feel so loud.

“you smell different,” megan mumbled, voice muffled against your shoulder.

you blinked, startled. “um. thanks?”

she pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your waist. “not bad different. just… like laundry detergent and success.”

you snorted. “you’ve been on korean air for fifteen hours and that’s what you open with?”

“i missed you too,” she said, and there was no hesitation in it. no theatrics. just honesty, plain and easy, like it was the most natural thing in the world to say.

you felt the corners of your mouth twitch, trying hard not to smile like a complete idiot. “i figured. what with the fifteen missed calls.”

“okay, first of all,” she said, stepping fully into the apartment now, shrugging off her jacket, “ten of those were because i forgot the time difference and thought you were ghosting me.”

“you forgot the time difference?” you repeated, crossing your arms with a skeptical look.

megan turned around, eyes wide and unconvincing. “yes?”

you stared.

she caved. “no. i panicked. sue me.”

you closed the door behind her, shaking your head. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you like it,” she said without missing a beat, flopping dramatically onto your couch.

you didn’t deny it. instead, you walked over and stood behind the couch, arms draped loosely over the back as you looked down at her.

“so what’s the plan now that you’re back?” you asked.

megan grinned, tossing her head back to look up at you. “coffee. your favorite ramen place. a movie i’ll definitely talk through. and if you’re really lucky, maybe i’ll even let you win at mario kart.”

“bold of you to assume you’d be letting me win,” you said.

“bold of you to think you could beat me,” she fired back, eyes sparkling.

you met her gaze, heart stuttering, voice softer now. “i’m really glad you’re here.”

her grin faltered just a bit, and something gentler settled into her expression. “me too,” she said. “more than you know.”

for a moment you just stared at her, the moment truly settling in. you really did miss her. texting and phone calls were one thing, but seeing her in person was another. her goofy smile, the way she locked in like she didn’t just drop the funniest bomb known to mankind, the way she laughed as if she didn’t care who was watching. she was just one girl and yet, she consumed the space so beautifully without even knowing. 

you almost did it then. almost opened your mouth and let the words tumble out. but you didn’t. instead you settled on a small smile. 

you were about to ask megan if she wanted water when your phone buzzed against the counter. you didn’t need to look to know who it was. you’d spent the entire night before (and entire day honestly) lighting up your text chain with yunjin. sure enough, when you unlocked your screen and peered down, there she was. 

yunjin [7:13pm]: is she there yet or did she ghost you after all that build-up

yunjin [7:13pm]: respond right now or else i’ll think you confessed and blacked out from emotional overload. 

you rolled your eyes and typed back quickly with one hand while grabbing two glasses with the other.

you [7:14pm]: she’s here. no blackouts. yet.

yunjin [7:14pm]: yet???  i’m counting the minutes. btw u should ask her to come to the party tn. i think sungchan wanted to introduce u to someone too, so ur contractually obligated to show up. 

the idea of sungchan wanting to introduce you to someone made your blood run cold. the last time that happened, you ended up stuck in a corner with shindong rambling about crypto, diet tips, and the “glory days” of SM for thirty painfully long minutes.

still, you swallowed the groan bubbling up in your throat and slipped your phone into your pocket before yunjin could fire off something even more unhinged. when you turned back toward the living room, megan had curled herself sideways into the couch, one leg dangling off the edge, her head tilted back like she was trying to make sense of the ceiling tiles.

“was that yunjin?” she asked, grinning like she already knew the answer.

“unfortunately.”

“what’d she say? wait, don’t tell me. something dramatic, slightly invasive, and definitely teasing.”

you handed her a glass of water with a dry look. “spot on. she wants to know if you’re real or just a figment of my imagination.”

megan raised an eyebrow. “and what did you tell her?”

“that you’re here.” you smirked. “look at miss nosey over here.”

she raised both hands in mock surrender, barely hiding her smile. “hey, what can I say? i’m working on a phd for not being able to mind my own damn business.”

you laughed, shaking your head. the kind of laugh that came easily around her. and then, remembering the rest of yunjin’s message, you leaned your weight against the back of the couch, fingers tapping idly on the cushions.

“she’s throwing a party tonight,” you said. “something about celebrating a new album drop. you should come. bring the girls.”

megan sat up a little straighter, sipping her water with the kind of dramatic flair that made you snort. “a party? are there going to be snacks?”

“probably.”

“alright, i’m in. but only if there are snacks and minimal small talk. and maybe karaoke.”

“so you want snacks, bad lighting, and a mic. noted.”

“see, you get me.” she beamed, already reaching for her phone. “i’ll text the girls. we’ll make it a proper entrance.”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrayed you. your heart was too full for your own good. “god help us all.”

__

the drive over was chaotic in the way only megan’s presence could make it. she’d managed to wrangle sophia and daniela into coming, predictably the two most likely to say yes to the word “party” before even hearing the rest of the sentence. manon and lara had tapped out almost immediately. yoonchae hadn’t even bothered pretending she was considering it.

megan drove, one hand lazily on the wheel, the other dancing over the radio dial every five seconds. you sat in the front passenger seat, watching her in the glow of passing streetlights.

sophia leaned forward from the back. “so, y/n,” she started, voice thick with mischief, “how’s it feel being megan’s favorite girl?”

“sophia,” megan warned without looking away from the road.

daniela snorted, flinging a gummy at the back of megan’s head. “what? it’s true. we’ve heard more about y/n in the last six months than we have about anyone else.” then she turned to you, leaning forward besides sophia. “i was starting to think she made you up.”

“my god, you guys are worse than lara and manon.” megan muttered, tightening her grip on the steering wheel. she glanced at you, caught the smile playing on your lips, and groaned. “you’re both so annoying.”

“say you love her and we’ll shut up,” daniela sang from the backseat.

“i will crash this car,” megan said flatly, but her ears were pink.

you turned in your seat, raising an eyebrow at the two girls behind you. “this what you do on every drive?”

“only when the company’s good,” sophia grinned.

by the time you walked up to the le sserafim dorm, the music could already be heard before you even reached the front door. the air outside buzzed with voices and laughter. 

you barely had time to step over the threshold before you heard it. 

“there she is!”

yunjin materialized out of the crowd like she owned the place. which, sure, she basically did. it was her party afterall.  she practically skipped the last few steps toward you. before you could get a word in, she grabbed your hand, pulled you into a hug that was half tackle, half dance spin, and leaned back to look you over. “hi, hello, love you, you look disgustingly hot—don’t even try to run, i’ve got plans for us tonight.”

you barely had time to laugh before she clocked the girls behind you. “megan!” she called, eyes lighting up as she pulled you into the house. “and you brought the fun ones! hi, sophia. hi, daniela.”

“you act like we don’t always show up,” sophia said with a grin, accepting the hug yunjin offered.

“it’s not a real party unless daniela’s threatening to outdrink everyone,” yunjin replied.

“not a threat if it’s true,” daniela said, winking.

megan held up her hands in mock surrender. “i told them to behave.”

“why would you do that?” yunjin laughed. “no, i want full chaos tonight. come find me later, i’m kidnapping y/n for a minute.”

you looked back at megan just as yunjin tugged you into the crowd, her hand firm in yours. megan simply grinned, the light catching her face just enough to make your heart skip.

and then the music swallowed you whole.

some part of you couldn’t help but feel a little bit annoyed. truth be told, you’d have rathered been home with megan. caught up on lost time and put on a movie. maybe stepbrothers, because you know it’s one of her favorites from one of your many late night conversations. 

instead, you were here. loud music, dim lights, and the kind of packed crowd that made it hard to think. it wasn’t awful. yunjin’s parties never were. her friends were warm and welcoming, even if chaewon had greeted you with a smug “so where’s megan?” the second you walked in. but still, your eyes kept drifting.

you caught sight of her across the room, laughing at something sophia said, a hand tucked into the pocket of her baggy jeans. daniela was already halfway into a dance battle with some guy in a bucket hat. megan wasn’t doing anything extraordinary. she was just… being. but somehow, that was enough to pull your gaze every time.

you tried to focus on the conversation happening around you. tried to lean into the easy rhythm of old friends and new music. but your mind had already wandered. back to the idea of megan beside you on the couch. back to her laugh. back to the quiet. back to her. always her.

eventually you took a step back when the cup yunjin shoved into your hands was getting empty. 

“gonna get a refill.” you shouted lamely over the music. you didn’t wait for her to respond before you were stalking your way to the kitchen. 

it was in that space you were able to truly look around. you didn’t miss the curious glances shot your way, no, that would’ve been impossible. it felt incredibly vain to acknowledge that you were an idols idol, but you knew. 

you were halfway refilling your cup with some kind of soju concoction when a voice cut through the air. 

“y/n!”

you looked up and immediately locked eyes with a familiar pair of browns. a tall, handsome figure weaved through the crowd toward you, his shaggy brown hair falling into his eyes just enough to make him look like he hadn’t planned a single part of his night. sungchan grinned, all coy charm and childish mischief. you groaned the second he pulled you into a rough side hug, the unmistakable scent of alcohol clinging to his clothes like cologne. still, your arms came up automatically, returning the hug without a second thought. for all his nonsense, sungchan had always been a good friend.

“i want to introduce you to someone.”

you turned just as sungchan stepped aside, and there she was. karina.

you had never met her in person before, but you might as well have. her face was everywhere. it lit up across high-rise billboards in gangnam, looping through luxury brand ads on the subway monitors, popping up on your explore page whenever you so much as breathed near the fashion or idol tag. you remembered the way jaewook had bragged about her back on set a year ago when the dispatch article dropped. he had shown his phone to his costar like it was breaking news, grinning like he had just won something. you had rolled your eyes, walked off to get coffee, and told yourself it wasn’t your business. it wasn’t, until now.

karina was even more stunning in person. her beauty wasn’t the kind that made a scene or demanded attention. it just existed, like it belonged there. her gaze met yours and stayed, unwavering.

it wasn’t rude, or even intense in a threatening way. just… focused. present. like she wasn’t just seeing you but actually registering you.

you were suddenly very aware of your posture, your hands, your everything.

“it’s so nice to meet you!” she called over the music, her voice warm and clear even with the bass thudding through the walls. she stepped just a little closer, enough that you could hear her without leaning in. “i love your stuff. seriously. i’ve been asking sungchan to introduce us for ages, but he’s always chickened out at the last second.”

sungchan made a wounded noise, hand over his chest like she’d just stabbed him, but before he could fire back, wonbin came stumbling past, arm slung around his neck with all the grace of a wrecking ball. they disappeared into the crowd in a tangle of laughter and chaos.

you rolled your eyes and turned back to karina, only to find that her gaze hadn’t left you once. her eyes held yours with that same calm, curious steadiness, like she wasn’t in a packed party but somewhere quieter. somewhere smaller.

you offered a small smile. “likewise. though to be fair, i think he just gets intimidated around pretty girls.”

her lips curved. “pretty, huh?”

you blinked, brain catching up three seconds too late. “oh god, sorry. i don’t know why i said that. yunjin handed me a cup earlier and i don’t even know what was in it. she could’ve poisoned me for all i know.”

karina laughed, the sound easy and low. “knowing her, it’s probably something criminal. you’ll wake up with a hangover and a new life philosophy.”

you laughed too, but it faltered slightly when she leaned in, just enough for her shoulder to brush against yours. it was nothing, a light touch, but it grounded you instantly.

“don’t worry,” she said, voice softer now, “i think you’re pretty too.”

your heart stuttered.

you opened your mouth, but whatever you meant to say vanished the second her smile deepened.

“not to be dramatic or anything,” karina said, lifting her cup for a slow, nonchalant sip, “but i think we’re being watched.”

you blinked. “watched?”

“mhm. i can feel her eyes burning holes into the back of my head. like a laser pointer. i’m actually a little afraid to turn around.”

you tilted your head, letting your eyes scan the room until you found her. megan, standing across the floor. at some point sophia had shoved her cup into megan’s hands and joined daniela on the dance floor. the chinese girl clutched the cup in both hands like it might leap out of them if she didn’t keep a death grip on it. her expression was neutral, but her stare? not subtle.

you cleared your throat. “who, megan? no, no, she’s—”

“look at the way she’s holding that cup,” karina cut in, a grin already pulling at her lips. “you’d think she just watched the most annoying man on earth walk in and ruin everyone’s mood.”

you huffed. “reminds me of a certain six-foot-something actor with a god complex.”

karina snorted, her eyes flashing with recognition before she laughed for real this time, head tipping back for just a second. she knew who you were talking about almost immediately. the one man you had in common besides sungchan happened to be her very tall (very annoying) ex. 

“right. i forgot you know jaewook.”

you raised an eyebrow. “unfortunately.”

“hey,” she said, still grinning. “he’s not that bad. underneath all the bravado he’s actually kind of sweet.”

“sure, you don’t need to convince me.”  you shrugged, completely deadpan. “if the dick’s bomb, it’s bomb.”

karina choked, hand flying to your shoulder as she doubled over in disbelief. she was laughing harder than before, and you felt a little thrill run down your spine at the sound of it.

when she straightened up again, she wiped at her eye and shook her head. “you’re going to wake up tomorrow and regret ever opening your mouth.”

“without a doubt,” you said, already sipping to forget.

“i think i want some of what you’re having,” karina said, eyes glittering with mischief as she swirled the liquid in her cup. “it’s my cue to go find the woman of the hour. but before i do…”

she leaned in, slower this time. you thought she was going to say something else right away, but then her mouth dipped lower, her breath warm as it ghosted the curve of your jaw. you stiffened in surprise, the proximity making your pulse stumble. her lips came dangerously close to your ear, just barely brushing your skin when she spoke.

“that girl. megan.” her voice dropped to something sly and sweet. “she wants you. it’s written all over her face. she hasn’t stopped staring since i walked over. so how about you use some of that liquid courage and do something about it?”

your breath caught, cheeks burning with the kind of heat no drink could explain. karina pulled away just as slowly, and her smile was soft but wicked. it said a hundred things at once. 

 i’m glad we met, good luck out there, don’t screw this up.

then she was gone, slipping into the crowd like she had always belonged to it. her red solo cup bobbed above the sea of people as she drifted toward the corner where yunjin and chaewon were doubled over in laughter.

you didn’t even have time to process it before someone else stepped into her place.

megan.

her arm brushed yours, then stayed there, her hand wrapping gently around the bend of your elbow. she was close. so close. close enough that you could smell the perfume on her skin,  something cool and soft, mint layered with warm vanilla. it hit you all at once that it was yours. a bottle that had disappeared from your vanity six months ago before katseye left korea. and now here it was, clinging to her in the most dizzying way.

your body flushed with heat that had nothing to do with the music or the alcohol. your eyes traveled up, taking in the sheen of sweat along her collarbones and the way her skin glowed under the lights. her crop top clung to her in all the right places, her stomach taut from dancing. you could still see the echo of her movement in the way her breath rose and fell, chest barely brushing yours.

you finally looked at her face again. she was already staring.

her eyes were darker than you remembered, shadowed and unreadable, fixed on you with something that felt like pressure and want and restraint all tangled up into one look. her lips were drawn in a line, neither smiling nor frowning, but firm with intent.

the air between you thinned.

you weren’t sure who would speak first. or if either of you had to. not with the way the tension folded in and around you like the bass from the speakers. not with the way her fingers curled just slightly against your arm, like she wasn’t ready to let go.

“oh. hey. you doing okay?” you asked, voice raised slightly over the music pulsing around you.

megan didn’t answer right away. her eyes stayed locked on yours for a beat too long, and just when you thought she might finally say something, her gaze dropped. slow and deliberate. it traced the line of your jaw and landed just beneath your ear. her expression shifted. something flickered across her face, subtle but sharp. a furrow of her brow that sent a wave of nerves crashing down your spine.

before you could speak again, she brought her thumb to her lips and wet it. then, without hesitation, she reached forward and pressed that same thumb to your neck. her touch was warm, careful. a soft swipe against your skin.

your breath caught.

“she left lipstick on you,” she murmured, quiet but clear enough to cut through the noise.

your hand shot up on instinct, palm flattening over the spot just beneath your ear. you could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, blood rushing too fast under your skin.

“o-oh. yeah. was an accident,” you stammered, the words clumsy as they left your mouth.

megan didn’t respond right away. she just hummed.  low, unreadable. then her hand slid down from your elbow, fingers grazing your forearm like she couldn’t quite decide if she wanted to hold on or let go. eventually she settled, her grip tightening just enough that you felt the weight of it. like an anchor. like a warning. like something unspoken passing between the two of you that neither of you had the guts to name.

not yet, anyway.

for a long second, she just stood there, saying nothing. she didn’t blink, didn’t move. only stared.

you shifted on your feet. “did… did i do something wrong?”

her voice was steady, but low. “let me drive you home.”

you blinked. “oh. okay.” it came out softer than you meant, a whisper carried easily between you. she heard it all the same.

‎ 

you weren’t sure how much time passed between then and now. one moment you were alone in the kitchen of yunjin’s dorm, the next megan was muttering something to sophia and daniela under her breath,  a rushed string of syllables that made them blink once, twice, and nod. she grabbed your hand without waiting for an answer and pulled you toward the door. you felt the weight of every pair of eyes that followed you on your way out. yunjin’s brow arched with thinly veiled amusement. sungchan mouthed something that looked suspiciously like “what did you do.” and karina… she didn’t say a word. she just winked.

now you were in the passenger seat of megan’s car, the inside dim and quiet save for the faint hum of the engine and the soft patter of rain beginning to hit the windshield. your buzz had all but faded, replaced by something heavier, something laced with nerves. megan’s hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles had gone pale. the jaw that was so often relaxed with laughter and teasing was now set and stiff.

you turned to face her fully. “megan. what’s going on with you?”

she didn’t look at you. her gaze stayed fixed on the road ahead as if it held all the answers she couldn’t bring herself to say aloud.

“when did you and karina get so close?” she asked, too casual to be convincing.

you tilted your head, eyes narrowing. “are you jealous?”

there was a beat of silence. then she scoffed. 

“no!…. yes. fuck, y/n, i don’t know. i don’t know what i feel. all i know is that seeing her in your space like that just— it just drives me crazy.”

the car hummed beneath you, megan’s hands gripping the wheel like she was holding onto something more fragile than the leather beneath her fingers. she floored it the moment she pulled onto the main road. fast, reckless as always. the first time you rode passenger princess in her car, you practically grabbed onto the seat for dear life. except tonight, you didn’t even mind. you couldn’t look away. her jaw clenched tight, the faint pulse at her temple a rhythm you felt in your own chest.

the car sped down the dimly lit road of your penthouse’s underground parking, tires echoing against concrete walls. megan didn’t slow until she pulled into a quiet corner, the only sound the engine’s low hum. just the two of you now.

her jaw was tight, eyes sharp. “karina,” she spat, voice low and rough. “she was all in your space like she owns it.”

you met her glare, feeling the heat rising between you. “megan, i just met her.”

 her hand clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white.

“yeah, well, she sure didn’t act like it,” megan bit out. “in your ear, touching your arm like you’ve been hers for years. you think i didn’t see the way she looked at you?”

you blinked at her, pulse quickening. “why does it even matter?”

megan turned to you then, full body, her eyes blazing. “because it does. because you’re not just some friend i joke around with anymore, y/n.”

the silence that followed was thick, pressing. you stared at her, at the curve of her jaw clenched in frustration, at the way her chest rose and fell like she’d just run a sprint. her brows were furrowed, but beneath the frustration was something else. something that made your stomach twist and your fingers curl tight around your seatbelt.

“megan…”

she exhaled hard, dropping her head back against the headrest for a second like she was trying to force the words out. then her voice came, rough and low. “i can’t stand seeing someone else touch you like that. it makes me feel like i’m gonna lose my mind.”

you reached out, hand hovering before it found hers on the console between you. her fingers twitched under yours, like she was deciding whether to pull away or pull you closer.

“you’re not gonna lose your mind,” you said quietly. “you’re just finally saying what we’ve both been thinking.”

she didn’t reply. didn’t need to. you swallowed, heart hammering. this wasn’t the easy conversation you’d expected. it was raw, jagged, real. her eyes locked onto yours, wild and fierce. for a moment, you could almost feel the weight of everything she hadn’t said hanging between you.

without warning, she leaned in, closing the space with a fierce urgency. her lips crashed against yours, rough and demanding, like she needed to prove something. your breath hitched, caught off guard but all in.

it was messy, desperate, the kind of kiss that didn’t ask for permission. your hands found her hair, pulling her closer. she growled low, the tension snapping as the lines between friends and something more shattered.

it was a blur after that. megan barely killed the engine before the two of you were out of the car, walking fast and too close as you made your way through the quiet underground garage. her hand hovered at your back, not quite touching, but you could feel the heat of it through your shirt. the elevator ride was silent, charged, her reflection burning holes into yours through the metal walls.

the second your door swung open, you were on her again. the lock clicked behind you as you pressed her up against the door, mouths crashing together like you’d both run out of time. your hands slipped under the hem of her shirt, greedy for skin. she kissed you like she needed you to breathe.

“y/n,” she breathed out, but whatever she was going to say got lost in the next kiss, your name drowned out by the low thud of her back hitting the hallway wall.

you didn’t even think, just grabbed her wrist and tugged her toward the bedroom, feet stumbling, laughter breaking through the tension for a split second. she followed without hesitation, eyes locked on you like she was trying to memorize the way you looked at her now. 

as soon as you hit the threshold of the room, your mouths found each other again. she kicked the door shut behind her without looking, hands already tugging at the hem of your shirt like she’d waited too long for this. 

she pulled away after a moment to simply stare. 

megan looked at you. the kind of stare that could melt ice. her gaze traces the lines of your body like she was hungry, yet still she said nothing. she swallowed, her lips pursing together as she weighed her own thoughts in her mind. her eyes trailed up and down before finally they settle themselves again on yours. it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what she was thinking in this very moment. you could practically read her through her silence. the way she practically itched to say something funny, to break the tension with a lighthearted joke in true megan fashion. but she couldn’t. her body was reacting as much as yours was. she trembled slightly, her chest rising up and down as if she was struggling to take in air. but it was pure anticipation. when she talks her voice is careful, hesitant, like she was afraid that one wrong word would break the quiet you slipped into. 

“how do i tell you that i want you without making a fool of myself?”

your breath hitched when suddenly she moved. she took a step closer, and instinctively you take a step back. the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you’re falling back. the only thing you can do is sit stupidly and stare up at her as she stares down. she was already tall, but now she loomed over you. 

she was so unlike herself. just ten minutes ago she was fumbling over her own feet, giggling between kisses as her fingers clumsily trailed up and down the warm skin on your back. now, she was confident. like she was looking at you through the lens of someone who realized in the span of a quick ten minutes that they were standing before something holy. 

you hum. “you say it. tell me, megan.”

she doesn’t hesitate. she nudges your legs apart so she’s standing between them now, your legs trapping her in. her hands instinctively raise to the back of your head, one idly playing with the baby hairs on the nape of your neck while the other gently grabbed your chin. she didn’t ask, just simply gripped your chin between her thumb and index finger and tugged. she leaned down slightly , so close that you could feel her hot breath hitting you. when she talks, her voice is quiet. 

“i want you, y/n.”

she moved one inch closer, and her lips brush yours. it was faint. a feather light touch, but it sent shivers down your spine all the same. her eyes dropped back and forth between your eyes and your lips, the grip she had on your chin tightening momentarily before she let go. her hand lazily drifted down from your face and to your chest, fingertips just lightly grazing your skin. and then, she moved the other hand. the hand that once played with the hairs on the back of your neck now moved to the front, fingertips dancing along your throat. she hums. her voice dripped like venom, tantalizing and dangerous all in the same breath. 

“you have no idea how bad.”

you swallow, and megan feels it against the hand she held to your neck when her fingers gently reach out and clasp. nothing tight. but she doesn’t say anything. she simply stares. her eyes dark, her face unreadable save for only the pure want clear in her words. through the grip on your throat, you reply. your voice fell to a whisper, though just as confident as her own. 

“then show me.”

she didn’t need to be told twice. the grip she held on your neck tightened just slightly before she relented. her lips which once grazed yours finally surged the small distance. she kissed you, every emotion she pushed to the back of her mind finally coming out in full force. she tilted her head, a soft sigh of relief escaping her when you met her kiss with equal fervor. 

this was it. the moment where finally, she’d let herself cave. the moment where megan would lose her inhibitions and finally be true to both herself, and to you. being so close to you in this moment made her full body vibrate. you were intoxicating, and she was addicted.

 megan deepened the kiss, her tongue gently swiping across your bottom lip. when you don’t open your mouth, she bites your lip. taking advantage of the gasp you let out, her tongue darts in. without words, her intentions were clearer than daylight. 

she wanted you, and she wanted bad. 

the grip on your neck only tightened until eventually you needed to pull back for air. a string of saliva coated your lips when she pulled back, her grip on your throat relaxing. but she doesn’t mind. she lets you breathe, feels your chest rise and fall beneath her full hand as she trails open mouthed kisses down from your swollen lips to your jaw, and then your neck. she littered kisses around the area her hand clasped around only moments ago, soothing the dull feeling of a phantom grip. 

through your haze and a short gasp, you couldn’t help but tease her. 

“who knew you had that in you, huh, skiendiel?”

megan answered with a simple bite to your neck. a nibble, soothed over with a faint swipe of her tongue immediately after. it was enough to shut you up, if even for a moment. she hummed. 

“can’t help myself. you’ve no idea how long i’ve been waiting for this.”

this time it was your turn to raise a hand and gently play with her hair, her mouth still working at your jaw and throat. you sigh, your fingers clasping around a clump of her dark hair. you shake your head. 

“what, are you trying to tell me this is the only reason you asked for my number all those months ago?”

she knew you were joking, that you were being facetious. still she couldn’t help but frown. she dropped fully to her knees now between your legs, still fully trapped by your legs on either side of her. from this angle as she pulled away from your neck, she looked up at you through her sleepy eyes and pink bangs. 

“maybe this part was wishful thinking. but no, not the only reason.” her hands trailed down again, finding your skin beneath your shirt. her hands were so numbingly cold despite the warmth in her gaze. her hand pressed against your lower stomach, feeling the way your abdomen clenched slightly against her cold palm. she looked at you with her half lidded eyes and all you saw was sincerity. she continues. 

“you’ve no idea how hard it is to keep my hands to myself when you’re you. but fuck, look at you now.” her other hand reaches for the hem of your shirt and now she tugs, her touch gentle despite the bite in her words when she says her next words. “you’re mine, baby.”

the words set something off in you. something that lit a fire in the deepest pits of your stomach, begging to be addressed. and megan knew it. 

and so, she did. 

__

you weren’t sure at what point you fell asleep. all you knew was that when you woke up, you were in your own bed. the blankets were pulled up beneath your chin but it wasn’t their warmth that clung to you like it was moulded for your body, and yours only. 

your eyes trailed over to the sleeping girl besides you. megan’s arm wrapped around your torso, holding you close. her bare body pressed against yours had a chill running down your spine. you could already feel the hickeys forming on your neck, the bruises on your thighs. you could feel the phantom feeling of her nails scratching down your back and her coaxing whispers lingering in your ears. 

megan had practically transformed into a completely different person. the memory of her eyes, dark and dangerous, had you inadvertently shifting closer to her. the slight movement was enough to wake her. a deep, sleepy groan pulled from her lips as she subconsciously nuzzled herself closer into you. when her eyes fluttered open and they landed on you, the difference was night and day. 

she was nervous. shy. she practically hid her face in your neck only to turn red in embarrassment when she was met face to face with the marks she left on your throat. when she speaks her voice is low, awkward. 

“i-i, uh, you know. i’m so sorry. too much? probably. oops.”

despite the situation, you couldn’t help but laugh. the sound alone made her groan, her head digging even deeper into you as if the action alone would hide her from your teasing. a classic ‘if i can’t see you, you can’t see me’ kind of thing. 

“it’s okay, megan.”

she looked up at that, her cheeks still flushed red. but there was no mistaking the way her shoulders relaxed. she looked back at you and it’s then the events from the night before seemed to finally settle in. it’s in this lighting that you realized, again, just how gorgeous she is. the way her hair framed her face even when she was ridden with bedhead. the way her soft lips pouted involuntarily, the way her sleepy eyes looked up at you through her lashes. she was so, unbelievably beautiful without even needing to try. you couldn't help but wonder if she knew this as well as you could see it. 

with a newfound sense of confidence, she suddenly leaned forward. her lips found yours and unlike the fit of messy kisses she gave you the night before, now she takes her time.  when she pulls away, pink dusts her cheeks. 

“i can’t believe we did… that.”

you raise a brow. “oh? pray tell why you’re so surprised.”

megan’s eyes practically blow wide. “seriously? you’re not even the slightest bit shocked and overwhelmed and- a-and, i don’t know, lowkey kinda freaking the fuck out? i mean jeez. you’re you!”

before you can reply she’s already continuing. her arm around your torso tightens, a look of pure shock and elation cemented across her face. 

“do you have any idea how scared it makes me knowing that you’re practically in a league of your own? i mean, shit, you walk into a room and everyone stares. i walk in and everyone waits for me to break my own leg! you’re you. and i’m me. and this just doesn’t make any sense, a-and-“

you turn slightly so you’re facing her fully, her arm around you not slipping but loosening just enough. you shake your head, a hand reaching up gently to swipe her hair from her vision. her pink bangs covered her eyes just slightly, hiding the state of pure frazzle in their depths. you can’t help but chuckle softly. 

when your lips tilt up at the corners, a small grin gracing your face, megan stopped rambling. she was so, completely, irrevocably enamored by you in a way that it hurt her brain. 

when you leaned forward just enough to seal her lips with your own, her breath catches in her throat, silenced. for a moment you both lay there. her arm around your torso now moving to lightly grip your waist, her fingers digging in just barely as if she was grounding herself in the moment. your hand cupped her jaw, the kiss deepening just a second longer. when you pull away, her eyes are blown wide. she stares back at you in equal parts awe, and fear. she was completely undone by you. 

“relax.”

the simple word was all she needed. she nodded her head stupidly and obediently, her lips pursing so tight together as if you’d given her a command she’d follow til her last breath. 

your grin softens into a small smile. “you’re such a loser, megan.”

megan grimaced. the kind of look that was half part an awkward smile, and half part an embarrassment pout.  she burrows her head into your chest with a drawn out groan. she feels the way your body vibrates when you chuckle, hears the way your heart skipped a beat with her ear pressed to your bare chest. and in that moment, she decided. 

no amount of embarrassment would ever outweigh the pride she felt in knowing that it was her you were holding that very morning. 

__

a month passed. 

megan hadn’t planned on going live. it was one of those quiet nights that felt heavier than it should have. the dorm was calm. daniela had vanished into her room with a face mask and a bowl of cereal. sophia had crashed early. the silence made everything feel louder.

so she pulled on an oversized hoodie (your hoodie) and went live from her bed. nothing fancy. just her and her phone, legs tucked under her, the soft yellow light from her nightstand casting a warm glow across the screen.

“hi,” she said, voice soft with that slight rasp it always had when she was winding down. “i couldn’t sleep.”

the chat exploded immediately. hearts, greetings, inside jokes, fans asking about everything from what she had for dinner to her favorite stage outfit from the last comeback. she answered a few, laughed quietly when someone asked if lara still sleep-talked. her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the sleeve of her hoodie as she scrolled.

“what’s the weirdest dream you’ve had recently?” she read aloud, smiling. “okay, so i had this one where i was back in high school, but for some reason all the desks were made of jello, and sophia was my teacher? yeah, no idea. my brain is a strange place.”

another wave of hearts. more laughing emojis. the mood stayed easy, casual, soft around the edges.

then came the question. fast, buried in a sea of others, but megan’s eyes caught it and held.

“who’s that in the background?”

she blinked.

then turned, just slightly, to glance behind her.

there, on the edge of the bed, barely in frame, was you. hoodie half-zipped, face makeup-free, curled against a pillow and blinking slow from the comfort of just having woken up from a nap you hadn’t even meant to take.

megan looked back at the camera, lips tugging into a smile that was both shy and completely unbothered.

“guess the secret’s out,” she said, voice low but steady.

the chat exploded again, this time in full-blown chaos. some fans caught on immediately. others were in denial. a few begged her to clarify, but she didn’t.

instead, she leaned back against the headboard, reached over, and laced her fingers with yours. you blinked blearily, took a second to realize what was happening, then gave a soft laugh.

“hi,” you murmured, just loud enough to be heard. “sorry, i kind of knocked out.”

“it’s okay,” megan said, thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “you’re cute when you sleep.”

the live didn’t last much longer after that. she answered one or two more questions, gave the usual love you guys and get some rest, then signed off.

but the clip stayed. it spread fast, faster than either of you expected. screen recordings, gifs, screenshots, fan theories shifting into confirmed realities. by morning, your names were trending side by side.

and just like that, it wasn’t speculation anymore.

it was real. it was official.

it was you and her. finally.

[mashtatosworld]

lover boys (5)

summary: sending your partner a sexy text prank

[GD, TOP, D-LITE]

Kwon Jiyong (GD)

Jiyong had never known true suffering until this moment.

He was horny.

Frustrated.

And ignored.

His phone burned in his grip, and every single unanswered call just mocked him.

It was past midnight, and he was stuck at this never-ending music video shoot, running on caffeine and fumes. The director was talking about re-shooting a scene, but he hadn't paid attention since your name lit up his phone.

[My Jagi] thinking about you

[My Jagi] what if I slipped my underwear off rn?

[My Jagi] you'd never know

[My Jagi] unless I just show you

Jiyong had stared at his screen.

His brain short-circuited.

His throat went dry.

His fingers twitched.

A beat of pure, filthy anticipation hit him like a truck.

His pulse skyrocketed.

Oh, shit.

Oh, fucking yes.

You were out clubbing tonight with your friends, dressed in that tiny little black dress he already told you was dangerous. And now you were thinking about him like that?

His body reacted immediately.

His grip on the phone tightened as he licked his lips, thumbs flying across the screen.

[Jiyong] Jagi… don’t play with me.

[Jiyong] Send it.

[Jiyong] Right now.

He hit send and waited.

Nothing.

He saw the little 'read' notification pop up.

No response.

His jaw clenched.

His knee bounced aggressively. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, suddenly too hot, too tense, too ready.

Okay. Fine.

He hit FaceTime.

Declined.

Jiyong blinked.

Oh, you were not about to do this.

He called again. Declined.

Once more.

Declined.

Jiyong exhaled sharply, rubbing his face, frustrated and painfully hard.

[Jiyong] Why aren’t you answering??

[Jiyong] Jagi you know what you do to me.

[Jiyong] Jagi

[Jiyong] JAGIYA

[Jiyong] PICK UP PLEASE JAGIYA

His crew was looking at him funny now, because he was barely holding it together.

The director called for him.

"Hyung, we’re ready for the next - "

"I need a break."

"…What?"

"FIVE MINUTES." Jiyong was already jogging off set, fisting his hands through his hair.

Door. Slammed. Locked.

He immediately called you again.

You. Finally. Answered.

"Thank god," he exhaled roughly, one hand already on his belt, unbuckling.

Your giggle only made things worse.

"Switch to FaceTime," he ordered, fumbling with the zip of his trousers. "Your reception must be terrible, I’ve been trying to call you - You know what? It’s fine. All I need is your voice, baby."

Your giggles continued, light and teasing.

"Ji…"

"Just talk to me, hmm? Keep me company while I - "

"It was just a prank!"

Jiyong froze.

His hands stopped moving.

His chest rose and fell heavily, eyes narrowing as he processed what you just said.

"…What?" His voice was deadly.

You giggled again, like this was some kind of game.

"I was just thinking about you while waiting for my friend in the bathroom," you admitted, voice still so sweet, so innocent, like you hadn’t just ruined his high.

Jiyong stared blankly at the wall.

His entire body was hot, tense, throbbing, and ready to explode.

"You…" His voice dropped to a low growl. "You were just pranking me?"

"Mhm."

He inhaled deeply, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the counter.

"Okay…" His voice was dangerously calm. "But… can we have phone sex right now?"

"Jiyong! You're supposed to be working."

He groaned and tipped his head forward, hair falling onto his forehead.

"Baby, please. I can’t go back out there like this. You did this to me. Take responsibility."

"No way," you laughed. "Get back to work!"

He sighed dramatically, raking a hand through his hair.

"But I can’t leave this bathroom right now...Like this."

You giggled again, and he swore he was going to lose his damn mind.

"Okay, fine, I can help with that," you hummed, suddenly switching to a sweet, soothing tone.

He perked up again, readying himself.

"Think of… my dad."

Jiyong face scrunched up. Had he heard you correctly?

"Do - do you mean me?"

"Jiyong! No! Stop thinking like that. Oh, oh, wait, I forgot to tell you that I crashed the lambo the other day."

"Huh?"

"Oooh okay, this is a good one... do you remember that one time you saw Youngbae in a thong - "

"FUCK - NO! No, no, no - " Jiyong slapped a hand over his face, groaning in agony. "Oh Jagi why..."

You cackled.

He exhaled slowly, finally feeling himself calm down.

"Okay," he said smoothly, composing himself. "I’m ending this shoot early and picking you up."

"What? Ji - "

"Nothing's better than the real thing anyway."

And then he hung up

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Seunghyun (TOP)

The dinner party was elegant.

Classy.

Polished.

Everything about the atmosphere demanded propriety - low lighting, soft music, the occasional tinkling of a champagne flute against crystal.

And then there was him.

Seunghyun stood across the room in a fitted suit, laughing softly at something someone had just said. One hand in his pocket, his posture lazy and elegant, while the other nursed a glass of wine. He looked unreal - like sin disguised in sophistication.

And he knew it.

You’d been keeping things quiet between you two.

For now.

Late nights. Shared cars. Rooms booked under fake names.

There was something deliciously addictive about the secrecy.

About knowing that no one else at this party had a clue that the two of you had practically torn each other's clothes off in the backseat of his car just last week.

And tonight? He hadn’t even said a word to you yet.

Just watched.

Every time you caught his eye across the room - which was often - it was like he was touching you without moving an inch.

Like he could feel the heat under your dress with just a glance. The way his tongue ran slowly across the inside of his cheek was obscene.

And he knew it.

So you decided to push the game further.

Sliding your phone discreetly under the table, you typed a message:

[My Princess] Thinking about the last time you touched me...

[My Princess] I still have the marks to remember

You hit send. Sat back. Watched.

He didn’t move.

He kept talking, eyes lazily flicking back to you like he could hear your thoughts. He wasn’t even reaching for his phone. Not even a glance.

You crossed your legs slowly, letting your heel dangle just enough to catch his attention again. Then, when he locked eyes with you for the tenth time, you gave him the subtlest little signal - a nod toward the phone in your hand.

Still nothing.

Instead, he excused himself from the conversation and walked straight across the room, every step deliberate and slow, his expression unreadable - except for the heat in his eyes.

He stopped beside your chair, leaned down low enough that only you could hear him, and said with a quiet, deep rasp,

“From the way you’ve been looking at me tonight… I think I already know what you want.”

Your pulse fluttered in your throat.

“I sent you a message,” you murmured, squeezing the device in your hand,.

He smiled - and it wasn’t a kind one.

“I’ll save that for later,” he said, straightening his cuff like he wasn’t about to do something reckless. “I want to see something else right now.”

You blinked. “Right now?”

He smirked and cocked his head towards the door.

And then you were slowly following him - heels clicking through the hallway like a warning bell - until the two of you slipped through the door of a sleek, dimly lit guest bathroom.

The lock clicked.

His hands were on you immediately.

“You think you can just sit there, looking at me,” he whispered against your neck, lips dragging fire across your skin. “Like I wouldn’t come take you?”

You didn’t have time to reply before his mouth was on yours, hungry and possessive, while his fingers found the hem of your dress and dragged it up your thighs with purpose.

He groaned at the feel of lace beneath, low and guttural, pressing against you like he might lose control right there.

It was a blur - heat, hands, soft gasps, the dull thud of your back against the door. Seunghyun was always gentle in public but in private...

He ruined you.

By the time he laid a final kiss to the corner of your mouth and straightened your dress, his breath was heavy and slow, lips flushed, and hair just slightly disheveled.

His fingers grazed your thighs one last time before he bent and pocketed something with a smirk.

You looked down - your panties were gone.

“Souvenir,” he murmured.

You gave him a lazy, smug smile. “What about the message?”

He pulled out his phone and tapped the screen. “Oh, I'm saving that for later too,” he said casually, slipping it back in his pocket.

And when you both walked back into the party - a little flushed, a little dishevelled - no one said a thing.

But Seunghyun?

He kept one hand in his pocket the whole night, two fingers grazing the lace of your panties and the memory of what he’d just done… already counting down the minutes until he could drag you into his bed and read your message - with you under him this time.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Daesung (D-Lite)

You sent the text as a joke. Half teasing, half playful flirt - the kind of thing meant to fluster him.

[My Baby] i miss your smile

[My Baby] also your mouth

[My Baby] mostly your tongue xx

You hadn’t expected much. Maybe a flustered reply, a few emojis, or one of his classic babyyyy voice notes.

But Daesung?

He took it seriously.

Like romance movie seriously.

While you were out grabbing drinks with friends, the man went into full preparation mode. You had no idea - you were sipping cocktails and laughing with your phone tucked away in your bag. Meanwhile, at home, Daesung was setting the scene.

Candles lined the hallway. Soft music playing from the speakers. Clean sheets, freshly fluffed pillows, dimmed lights. He even sprayed your favourite pillow mist on the bed.

By the time everything was set, he’d changed into his comfiest grey tee and sweatpants - the ones you always reached for when he wasn’t home - and laid on the couch to wait.

He sent you a quick response, eagerly staring at his phone screen for your answer.

[Dae] I'm waiting whenever you're ready baby

Except... you were taking a little longer than expected.

An hour passed. Then another.

He checked his phone for notifications from you. Then again.

Still no response.

Then he curled up under the throw blanket, watching the front door with keen eyes. Still determined. Still hopeful.

By the time you finally stepped into the house - heels in hand, hair a little windblown from the night air - you were greeted by flickering candlelight and music.

Your heart stuttered.

“...Dae?” you called out gently.

No answer.

You peeked around the corner and found him curled up on the couch, fast asleep, arms tucked under his head.

You blinked, suddenly remembering the message you’d sent hours earlier.

“Oh dear…”

Quietly, you walked over, kneeling beside him as your fingers brushed a soft strand of hair off his forehead.

He stirred a little, eyes fluttering open.

“You’re home,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. “Wait... you're home!”

He sat up suddenly, blinking away tired eyes as he hurriedly struggled to yank his shirt over his head.

You smiled and admired his sculpted body flexing with the erratic movement. “Wow, you really set the mood, huh?”

"I had candles." He cast a quick glance to the melted wax. They were burning low now, lighting the room with a dim golden glow.

“Oh no. No, no, no - ” he whispers, standing and sweeping his hair back with a frustrated groan. “I was gonna surprise you, babe, I swear I had it all planned - ”

You laugh, standing to meet him, fingers brushing his bare chest. “You fell asleep with the candles lit? You’re lucky this house is still standing.”

He pouts, gaze sheepish. “I didn't mean to fall asleep...”

“I know,” you say softly, eyes trailing across his torso, the faint tan lines, the dip of muscle that disappears beneath his sweats. “You've been so exhausted lately."

He leans in, arms winding around your waist as he buries his face in your neck.

His voice is thick with sleep.

“I can still salvage it. Give me five seconds - just need to light the other candle again and maybe take my pants off, or yours - ”

“Hey,” you cut in, fingers sliding under his chin to tilt his gaze back to yours, “I can see you’re tired, baby.”

He opens his mouth to protest, but you silence it with a slow press of your lips.

“Let me take care of you tonight.”

Daesung stills - brows drawn slightly together, always the giver, always the one chasing your breath, your sighs, your high - but the way your voice dips low with promise, the way your hands skim his hips with purpose…

It’s enough to have him melt, breathing out a quiet, “Yeah… okay.”

He lets you take his hand and guide him to the bedroom.

And maybe he fell asleep on his big plan.

But this - you, pulling his sweats down with reverence and climbing into his lap like you’ve waited all night just to wreck him softly -

This is better than anything he could’ve ever prepared.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

for the amazingly wonderful @infinetlyforgotten im sorry its taken me so longgg my lovely 😮‍💨

i dont usually write sexy texts so i was STUMPED 🤣 but please enjoy and let me know if you want me to re-do it!

love mash xxx

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure , @breakmeoff , @emmiesoverthemoon , @rafesbunniebby , @ricecake9999 , @fleabagspurplewife , @sylviavf , @ldydeath , @wonyluvi

[totalswag]

raw next question? pt 2 ⎯ RAFE CAMERON!

authors note the amount of support i got on my last fic is unbelievable, thank you so much. i tried my best for part two so i hope you guys like it. so, here you go 👀. raw next question

taglist ✎ ̼ if you would like to be notified every time i post you will type in your username then be all set to go.

masterlist

summary after leaving a comment under rafe's post, he responds back showing interest and reaches out.

warning(s) flirting, kissing at the end, cuteness, and meeting rafe for the first time.

rafecameron: hey! bold move, I think we should talk.

The only thing running through your mind is⎯what the actual fuck. To be fair, you were expecting a response or comment, not even a dm. You don't know what to say.

"Okay, we need to think of something to say because," you hesitate for a few minute, "yeah, I don't have anything to say" you trail off before stretching the back of your head.

Zoie lets out a breath: "I say we wait to respond then once we come up with a response, send it to him."

Five minutes later, you open your phone, click on the text, and begin typing a reply. "This is what I'm going to respond with," you say, pointing to your phone to the girls. 

yourusername: hey haha, thought I’d hop on the trend. didn’t expect you to reply tho.

Two minutes later, he responds.

rafecameron: oh, so I’m just part of a trend? damn, i thought i was special... 😔

yourusername: haha so funny, rafe

yourusername: i admit though you're attractive

rafecameron: ahh the truth comes out huh

rafecameron: since we're speaking the truth, you're gorgeous

Rafe and you started conversation among other topics. One of the main things you two found out is that you live an hour away from each other. By the end of the week, you exchanged phone numbers.

After Rafe responded to your comment, you two started leaving sly/flirty comments on each other's posts that spiked conversations between your supporters.

They're messing with us right?

They keep playing eye tag... HOLLA AT YO BOY!!

"Would you like to meet up sometime?" Rafe asked casually over FaceTime while searching the kitchen cupboard for something, his phone resting against a glass cup. 

It's been a month since Rafe and you have been texting and calling. Constantly texting⎯quick responses. It became a routine for the both of you. Learned a lot about each other in a span of a month.

Your back was against the headboard as you sat on your bed. He wants to meet you in person, and your eyes almost pop out of their sockets. "Yeah, I would like that," was all you could offer.

Peeping over his shoulder, Rafe chuckles quietly and smiles. "I'm thinking this weekend if you aren't busy?" "I would drive to you," he says, suggesting.

You raise your upper body off the headboard and reply, "I'll send you my address the day before, I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Perfect!" He smiles.

Today was the day⎯Rafe and you are meeting for the first time. Nervous and excited about all this. You don't want to make a fool of yourself. Rafe was forty minutes away, in the meantime, you were on the phone with Zoie and Evenly.

Rafe offered to drive to visit you, and you couldn't help but be anxious. He was an hour away, yet his attempt to see you meant more than you could express.

"Bitches I'm shitting bricks" you confess feeling anxious, running your hands down your thighs, walking around the kitchen.

"Y/N, it's normal to feel this way especially since you're meeting him for the first time. Take a few deep breaths and if you need anything from us, we're one call, and few doors down" Evelyn reassures you in a soothing tone.

"Agreed, you got this, it's normal to feel this way," Zoie expresses.

"Thank you, you two are such great friends, I love you so much" you say with honesty, your phone buzzes, you put your phone back.

rafe: five minutes away

you: perfect, see you soon!!

You gasps, quickly putting your phone back to your ear, "he's five minutes away um, I'll text you guys throughout the day."

Once Rafe got to the apartment complex, you walked down the stairs to where he parked⎯he was getting his bags from his trunk. You were amazed how tall he was too.

Before you can say anything, he turns around and says, "Hey, Y/N," with a smile that conveys how happy he is to see you.

Seeing him in person made you realize he's even more handsome. Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off you, he couldn't help but think how he's standing infront of someone as beautiful as you.

"Hey, Rafe, It's good to see you" you say, taking a big breath and gazing up at his towering body. You grin and lean into the hug. The height difference between you two is insane. He

"It's great to finally meet you; you're even more beautiful in person," he says to you, smiling. You chuckle softly at his compliment, "thank you handsome" and smile.

After arriving at your place, you show Rafe where everything is and where he will be staying—either your bed or the guest bedroom, which has been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. 

Rafe was happy to see your apartment and commented on how well it matches your vibe. He took his time looking around the apartment. Since you were already ready for the day, you spent ten more minutes in the apartment before heading out.

You have no idea what the plan was today. Rafe intended for a lasting and enjoyable day. You persisted on showing him around, but he said he wanted to be the one to take you places, even if he didn't know where. 

"This is has been such a great day, thank you Rafe" you tell him with full honesty as you two get settled to play mini golf.

He looks up from the floor and responds with a kind, sincere smile, "I'm glad you're enjoying it." "I remember you mentioning you loved mini golf too."

He is able to recall the small details.

Your heart sank to your feet since no male has ever recalled the small information you shared with them. As you playfully nudge him, you exclaim, "I can't believe you remember that."

He chuckles, "I'm just good at remember."

Mini golf was a lot of fun, with plenty of laughs and competition between you two. In the beginning, he noticed your concentration and took out his phone to record you until you spotted him flipping him off.

Towards the end of the night, Rafe and you drove to an ice cream shop and ate it outside. You had little conversations and learnt more about each other today.

Before putting a scoop of his ice cream in his mouth, he says, "We should make a tiktok."

After contentedly leaning back in your chair, you decided to do it. In addition, many who support you have been wondering if you two will ever cross paths. They're going to be amazed.

she knows remix slowed.

Rafe began lip-syncing, his expression playful and undoubtedly attractive. When it got to looking like the Fourth of July, you're officially coming with me, he switched the phone to you. You were already staring at him, eyes full of admiration, unable to conceal the warm smile on your lips.

The camera returned to him, and he tried not to chuckle, tilting his phone downward as he giggled. The final second of the video showed your arms wrapped around his neck.

rafe cameron: 👀

tagged yourusername

Fans were blowing up the comment section.

⇾ fan23: DO YOU SEE THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM!!

⇾ fan12: you know you have thirty minutes

⇾ fan1: i decided if i want y/n or rafe 😔

⇾ fan3: im sat for this

By the time you returned to your flat, the tension had grown to a point where it could no longer be ignored. Rafe took a step closer as you paused nervously by your door. His hand softly stroked your cheek, his gaze seeking yours, before he asked, "Is this okay?"

You barely had time to nod before his lips touched yours, gentle and languid, like if he was savoring the moment. The kiss was pleasant, but it also hinted at something deeper.

When you eventually pulled away, he leaned his forehead against yours, chuckling. "Best decision I ever made was replying to that comment."

"Best decisions I ever made was commenting" you softly say, smiling.

⎯⎯ my taglist! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

✰ if you would like to be added to my taglist and be notified whenever i post please let me know in the comments or in my ask box. if there's a line across your name that means i couldn't find your account

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[lessi-lover]

just let go II p.bueckers x a.fudd x reader

just let go II p.bueckers x a.fudd x reader 1.9k

you were exhausted. no, scratch that you beyond exhausted. your body ached from head to toe, your muscles stiff and sore from the sheer amount of work you'd put them through this week. every step you took felt heavier than the last, your limbs moving slowly, your thoughts even slower. it was the kind of tired that crept into your skin and kept clawing at your insides.

there was a lot of good things that came with being a college athlete, but there also came a time where you wish you were anything but. however being on a completely different path to both your girlfriends was more challenging than you had anticipated.

you were all constantly on opposite schedules, and although people agreed that the opportunities you got to travel across the country were amazing, always being apart from them was difficult, especially when they had each other.

they were able to be in the comfort of each other all day, they had their routines, their games, their trainings. and you? you had your nightly factimes with the pair, that's if you were lucky to have a free moment at the same time of course.

normally, this kind of distance didn't really bother you that much. you were quite an independent person and always had been, you never really liked to rely on other people because you knew you could only really put trust in yourself. in general you would get to see paige and azzi at least twice a fortnight, but it had been weeks since you'd last seen them because the last five of your games had been away fixtures.

your busy week deprived you of being able to talk to them, so you learnt how to deal with the distance. but almost over a month of no contact was wearing you homesick, and you couldn't stop thinking about them as much as it killed you. on average, volleyball handed you at least two matches a week, and when you weren't playing or training, you were studying, desperately trying to catch up on content you had missed because of it.

you knew paige and azzi had been trying to reach you. texts, calls, voice messages, every one sitting unanswered by you. you weren’t ignoring them out of anger, and it wasn’t that you didn’t want to talk to them. quite the opposite.

but every time their names flashed across your screen, the knife in your chest twisted further. seeing them together on facetime, their interviews coming up on your socials, knowing they had each other while you felt miles away, it hurt. it was easier to pretend you were just too busy to talk than to admit how much you missed them.

but of course, they knew you better than that.

your teammates had casually started dropping hints, as if they had been told you weren't reaching out. “paige texted me earlier,” one of them had said to you after practice. “azzi, too. they were asking if you’re doing okay.” you brushed your teammate off, claiming you were fine, just caught up and you would make sure to call them later.

but their concern didn’t stop there. your captain had pulled you aside after a game, you'd thought she wanted to celebrate the win but it was far from that. “they’re worried about you, you know. you should call them.”

you knew she was right.

as much as you tried to handle everything on your own, holding everything together by a loose thread and as much as you wanted to believe you could just push through the loneliness, you couldn’t keep going like this. the exhaustion wasn’t just physical anymore; it was in your head and was plaguing you like death.

you needed them. you needed the way paige would roll her eyes at your stubborn way of taking care of yourself before pulling you into a hug anyway. you needed the way azzi could make you laugh even when you felt like crying. you needed them and they can't be there for you.

it was like when you bite the inside of your cheek and at first it stings, but then you do it again and again until it just goes numb. that was your head right now, completely numb to any feeling your body tried to communicate. you knew ignoring them and yourself wasn’t fixing anything, but seeing how close they were while you were off doing your own thing, was worse. so you kept pushing them away, trying to convince yourself it was easier like this.

you managed to make it to the door of their dorm, grateful that you hadn't collapsed on the way up the elevator. the only thing that was keeping you going was knowing that you couldn't let them be worried about you anymore. the guilt was eating you alive and the messages you'd ignored over the month sat at the pit of your stomach, mercilessly punching you without fail.

and of course, paige and azzi knew immediately.

"baby, you look like you’re about to collapse." paige muttered as soon as you stepped into their apartment. she was already reaching for you, her fingers brushing over your wrist, then wrapping around it as if you'd slip away if she wasn't fast enough. you allowed the blonde to move you into her dorm, eyes staring blankly as she called out for azzi.

before you could even think of saying anything, azzi was by your side, her hands finding your waist to steady you. you hadn't seen either of them in weeks and the empty look in their eyes was enough to make you want to cry.

"baby! where have you been?" you felt your throat close up at how concerned the brunette looked, you hadn't realised the extent of their worries but it all washed over you as they waited patiently for you to answer. "you should've told us you were this bad." azzi said, trying to guide your frozen body to the couch as your feet dug into the ground in defiance.

"didn't wanna-" you yawned mid-sentence, your body swaying slightly in exhaustion as you held strong in attempting to stop them from moving you around. paige clicked her tongue disapprovingly at you. "yeah, yeah, didn't wanna bother us. sound familiar, az?"

"mhm," azzi hummed, nodding as she glanced back at paige. "she forgets we know her too well." before you could even attempt to argue with them, paige’s grip tightened on your wrist. then without hesitation, she bent down slightly and lifted you into her arms.

"paige." you mumbled weakly, but even you couldn’t bring yourself to fight it. your body went limp almost immediately, too tired to do anything else but let your body surrender to her touch. "nah," paige cut you off. "you’re done mama. i got you." and she did. she always did.

paige's skin against yours only sparked tears, they came unexpectedly, but they weren't born from pain. you felt every part in your body just broke, the explosion in your chest an overwhelming waterfall of emotion that just dropped out of you.

"oh love. you're okay, we've got you. stop fighting us."

azzi's words seemed to wrap around you like a blanket, her arms tightening around your body, as paige settled you down on the couch. the blonde swiped her fingers over you face, wiping away the fragments of you tears and brushing away the hair that had stuck to your face.

you pulled your head away from paige's hand, starting a with frightened look at the two of them.

her arms were secure around you, one wrapped under your knees, the other supporting your back. azzi's grip was effortless, as if her hands dug into your body like a second skin and you welcomed the comfort she offered you. she followed closely, her hand resting against your shoulder as she tried to calm you down.

"you should’ve texted us," paige murmured, her voice full of concern but trying to downplay the anger she had obviously been feeling. "we would’ve come and picked you up."

"s too much," you mumbled, your head falling against paige’s chest. "what’s too much, baby?" the blonde asked, adjusting her hold on you slightly so your back was positioned against her. you exhaled sharply, your fingers weakly gripping the fabric of azzi's shorts. "everything. my head’s too loud."

paige and azzi exchanged a look over your head. you liked the feeling that they were silently talking over you, they were taking your control and that was all you wanted them to do right now. you'd been in a washing machine for the past week, your thoughts just mixing with your feelings until you couldn't differentiate any longer. you needed them to take this from you because you didn't want it anymore. it was too much of a responsibility that you couldn't handle right now, paige and azzi would calm the storm you didn't doubt that.

"relax," azzi asked you, her fingers pressing gently into the knots in your muscles. "you don’t have to do anything right now. just let us take care of you." paige hummed in agreement with the brunette, her hand running through your hair in slow, soothing motions. "we’re in charge, okay? just let go." you felt your eyes flutter shut and your thoughts slip away.

it took you a second to process their words, but when you did, something inside of you unraveled. your body that had been locked up tight with stress, finally sagged against your girlfriends. your brows unlocked, your fingers unclenched, your arms hung limply at your sides, you let your back sink further into paige.

you were too tired to move, but you didn’t need to. they had you. "good girl," paige praised, pressing a kiss to your temple. "that’s it mama. just breathe for us."

a small hum escaped your lips. your head was still loud like before, still chaotic, but their voices cut through the pain, they were the certainty you had been craving.

azzi let her fingers move lower, kneading at your upper back now, working out the thick tension with slow movements that let you drift away. "you’re so tense, babe." she mumbled, more to herself than anything. "no wonder you feel like crap."

"i don’t feel like crap," you smiled sleepily, though it was an obvious lie that anyone could see through. paige chuckled, shifting slightly so she could wrap her arms tighter around you. "baby, you can barely keep your eyes open. just let go, okay?"

you didn’t answer, but you didn’t fight them either. it felt good being taken care of like this. it wasn’t often that you let yourself be vulnerable, but you always felt safe around paige and azzi. paige pressed another kiss to your hair, then let her lips linger against your temple. "you’re safe, baby. just rest for us."

"there you go," she murmured. "just breathe." azzi’s touch became lighter now, more of a gentle swipe of her fingers against your skin than anything else. "how’s your head?" she asked softly. it was a loaded question. your head was still loud, still a mess of the frustration and overstimulation that had been bubbling inside you, but it was quieter than before. you didn't feel the need to be above it.

"better," you admitted, your voice barely audible.

"good. that’s all we want."

[girlgenius1111]

my business

barcelona femení x teen reader after losing her best friend, r gets a meaningful tattoo, but gives her teammates no details about it. her older teammates, especially alexia whom she lives with, are furious that she didn't talk to them first. angst city, sprinkles of comfort [loss, grief]

—

It had always been the two of you. From the first day of kindergarten, when you’d both found yourselves playing with the toy cars in the corner of the room. You were fast friends; probably because there was something about the other that drew you together. You both came from broken homes, barely enough pieces of parents to craft together a family between the two of you. She’d been your family, for as long as you could remember. 

Even when you’d moved across the continent to Spain to play for Barcelona, you’d remained close. You facetimed at night, scrolling through tik tok compatible silence. As everything changed for you, things remained the same for her. She was stuck in that broken home, a mirror of the one you’d escaped. Football had saved you, but Jackie hadn’t had a savior. And when you left, she was all by herself. 

Now you were too. 

—

You lived with Alexia, which wasn’t quite your choice. You’d started off in an apartment in the same building as some of the other younger players, but an amalgamation of circumstances had you moving into Alexia’s only a month into your first season at Barcelona. 

The call had, ironically, come in the middle of a very long 10 days all by yourself in Barcelona. It was just your luck that you’d picked up a strain in your calf the week before, leaving you off the squad for your own national team. Initially, you’d been looking forward to some down time. Then the call had come in, and you were thrust into the painful realization that you were all alone. 

Olga was kind, above anything else, and she hovered a lot less than her partner did. The first five days had been a nice break from the rush and chaos of your regular schedule. Maybe you would have told her, when you got the call, if she’d still been there. Olga had to go to Madrid for work. After dropping Olga off at the airport in Alexia’s cupra [though you had an identical one, you swore hers was better], you’d gone home, the prospect of complete freedom very appealing, not that you’d really do anything crazy. 

The soft jingle of your ringtone broke through the silence, a silence that felt full of opportunity, even if it was just cooking in the kitchen with the music blaring. Sometimes, as you lay awake in your bed, staring at the ceiling, you wondered what would have happened if you hadn’t answered the phone. It wouldn’t have changed anything. Jackie would still be dead. The car that sped through the crosswalk without looking would still have slammed into her.  

You answered the phone. Jackie was dead. Your world fell apart. There was nothing more to it. There was nothing you could do, no way to think yourself out of the pain. It was there, hot and searing. All for you to deal with, all by yourself. 

It was a weird form of karma, perhaps, that you were now just as alone as you’d left Jackie to be. 

—

It wasn’t entirely a conscious decision that brought you to the tattoo shop. One minute you were looking back through your texts with Jackie, and the next, you were in the chair, shirt pulled up as the buzz of the tattoo gun filled the room. 

It was a small black and white illustration of a lemon tree. The school where you’d met each other had a lemon tree in the back, next to the playground. The two of you would sit there together at recess and talk. As you got older, you still returned to the lemon tree, even once you were both much too old to be sitting next to a playground. 

Under the lemon tree had been the last place you’d seen her in person. You’d gone home to visit her for a few days, and you’d spent your last few hours under the lemon tree together, talking about everything and nothing. That had been months ago, now. 

Your calf injury had not only taken you out of the international break, but it had ruined your plans to see Jackie whilst you were back home. It had been a long time since you’d seen your best friend, and you were more than a little disappointed that you couldn’t. After several profuse apologies, Jackie had told you not to worry about it. She’d see you sometime soon, and she didn’t need to watch you play in person to be proud of you.

 ‘I’m always proud of you,’ she’d said. 

There were about 2 months until your 18th birthday, but it turned out that in Barcelona you didn’t need to be 18 to get a tattoo, you had to be 16. So, off to the tattoo shop you’d gone, with nothing more than Jackie’s last text repeating in your head over and over. You didn’t think about the consequences, didn’t really think about anything until it was done, until the tattoo artist was carefully laying the second skin over the raw patch on your upper arm. 

Lost in your head, you left the tattoo shop. The habit you had of not watching where you were going, instead staring at the ground under your feet as you walked, was something that had caused you trouble more than once. And now, it seemed it would again as you practically crashed into someone the minute the door shut behind you. 

“¡Oye, cuidado!” 

You stumbled backwards, eyes still fixed on the ground, opening your mouth to apologize before you froze. You knew that voice. Your head snapped up and, ironically, the first thing you spotted was ‘looks can be deceiving’ inked into your teammates neck as her tattooed arms flew into the air with exasperation. Her face turned from annoyed to surprised, and then she broke into a wide grin.“¿Pequeña?” 

“Hola, Mapi.” You replied quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.” 

“No, no, it’s–...” Mapi trailed off, something on your face, something raw and painful catching her attention. She studied you for a moment, both of you blocking half the sidewalk as people grumbled and stalked past you. You waited for her to realize, her eyes flicking up to the sign above the door behind you. 

Mapi’s jaw dropped, her hand coming to grip your elbow and pull you over to sit at a nearby bench. “Did you get a tattoo?!” She hissed, surprise and concern etched deep into the lines of her forehead. 

She was downright floored. You were the team’s resident well behaved teen. Not since you’d moved in with Alexia had you stepped a toe out of line. Undertaking the extra film sessions and disgustingly high protein dinners with little complaint, you were practically a miniature version of your captain. 

And it wasn’t that everyone was opposed to tattoos or something, it was just that you were so young. You’d talked about getting a tattoo before but Alexia and Mapi had convinced you to wait until you were older. For you to break that promise, to go behind Alexia’s back while she was out of town… it was completely out of character. And it was for this reason that Mapi wasn’t upset. She was concerned. 

How you could have forgotten Mapi was still in Barcelona, seeing as though she wasn’t playing for Spain any longer, you weren’t sure. But that miscalculation had backfired greatly. Something in the very back of your head begged you to take the hand that was suddenly outstretched, trying to pull you out of the ocean you were drowning in. Mapi was right there, and she’d listen. Mapi always listened. You didn’t have to be alone anymore, but the thought of saying it out loud… that Jackie was gone and you were broken, you just couldn’t do it. Letting Mapi in would hurt too much, you decided. 

“Yes.” You answered shortly. 

The defender looked taken aback, her brow knitting together. She seemed to be at a loss for words for a moment, her concern for you doubling as she took in your appearance. You looked like you had barely slept in days, eyes red and puffy. It seemed impossible for you to sit still, your knee bouncing rapidly as your hands fidgeted with the sleeves of your sweater. Eyes anywhere but on her face, Mapi realized that whatever was wrong with you was serious. 

“Are you… what’s wrong, pequeña? What’s happened?” María inquired gently, her hands resting on your knee. You shifted away from the touch, your whole body suddenly seeming to tense. 

“Nothing. Nothing happened. I just wanted a tattoo.” You replied mechanically. 

“But… we talked about this. Me, you, and Ale. I thought you were going to wait–”

“Well, it isn’t up to you and Ale, it’s up to me.” You hated how hostile you were being whilst simultaneously having no idea how to behave any differently. Your body was in fight or flight, refusing point blank to admit to Mapi that you were very far from okay. 

To your chagrin, Mapi only seemed to soften further, the sympathy and concern on her face making your chest feel like it was on fire. “Nena, I don’t think–”

“I have to go, María. I have… I have an appointment. I’ll see you at training on Monday.” Abruptly, you stood, only just catching the way Mapi tried to reach out for you again. You didn’t listen as she tried to stop you, didn't look back once you turned around and speed walked away from her. 

You weren’t sure what you were doing, and maybe that was just what life would be like from now on. You weren’t sure. You just knew that verbalizing the grief and emotion you felt would make it unbearable. 

And behind you, still sitting bewildered on the bench, Mapi wasn’t sure what to do either. She could follow you home, insist you talk to her. That didn’t feel right, because you clearly wanted space. 

You’d been fine when she saw you at training last week, which made her think that the rest of your teammates wouldn’t know anything either. Mapi knew you loved your younger teammates, the ones much closer in age to you, but she also knew how careful you were about bothering people. No, you wouldn’t have called one of them for help. 

She’d definitely be calling Ingrid, but that was more for her own sake than yours. Ingrid wouldn’t have the answers, because she’d been gone, too. 

The most likely option of who would have more information was Alexia. Obviously, because you lived with her, you were close. But if Alexia knew something was wrong, she never would have left you behind without a word to Mapi to check on you. Likely, Alexia didn’t know anything either.  

And of course, María could call Alexia, but she knew her captain well enough to know that whatever overbearing reaction Alexia would have to try to figure out the problem and solve it would be suffocating to you. 

That left only one person.  

—

The noise of your rather melodramatic playlist must have drowned out the front door opening. You weren’t expecting anyone home today, so you froze when you heard footsteps beginning to ascend the stairs. Terrified, you grabbed the bat you kept under your bed and crept closer to the door, allowing the music to keep playing. 

Counting to three in your head, you grabbed the knob and twisted, flinging the door open and holding your bat up in the air at the ready. Olga jumped back, her hand raised as if to knock. 

“¡Joder!” 

“Jesus!” 

You both exclaimed simultaneously, Olga putting her hand over her heart and you dropping the bat to the ground. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t back until tomorrow?” You questioned. 

Olga had been looking at you in alarm, evidently still startled from the scare she’d just had. But as soon as you asked why she was home early, she seemed to gain control of herself, her body language softening as she stepped closer into your room. 

“Mapi called me.” The brunette said gently. Instinctually, you took a step back from her, trying to put space between you and the wrecking ball that was trying to break down the walls you’d so carefully crafted over the past few days. Olga didn’t move any closer, a small, sad smile gracing her lips. “Can I see your tattoo?” 

Her question caught you off guard enough that you nodded rather dumbly, rolling up the sleeve of your sweatshirt so that your bicep, and its new lemon tree, was exposed. 

Olga studied it for a moment, reaching out to grab your arm and have a closer look. “It’s pretty.” 

“Thanks.”

There was a beat of silence, both of you waiting for the other to address the elephant in the room. The brunette broke first, raking a hand through her loose hair. 

“Alexia is not going to be happy about this, pequeña.” Olga sighed, running her thumb over the pink tinged skin. 

You shrugged, pulling your arm from the older woman’s grasp. You didn’t care if Alexia wasn’t happy about it. In fact, that was the absolute last thing on your mind. 

“María told me that–”

“I don’t care what Mapi said.” You snapped. Olga simply raised her eyebrows at you. “I have a headache, Olga, I really don’t want to talk right now.” 

You turned, walking back over to your bed and sitting on the edge. Your posture was stiff, everything about your body language screaming to Olga that Mapi had been right, that something was really wrong. 

“But you know you can talk to me, yes?” Olga called after you. Freezing, the words sent a pang of anxiety through your chest. Another hand, the same ocean of grief. You couldn’t take it. Forcing a smile, you looked up at the brunette. 

“I’m good, I don’t have anything to talk about.” 

Olga sighed again, a sound you were beginning to hate. Her eyes bore into yours, and you knew she didn’t believe you for a second. “I can tell something is not okay. You are not okay. I came home to help you, pequeña.” 

Something between a scoff and a huff of air escaped you. “I am okay. I don’t need your help.” 

Olga shook her head, pulling the sleeves of the oversized Barcelona sweatshirt she was wearing down over her hands and crossing her arms. She looked so concerned, and it made your skin crawl. You couldn’t. You couldn’t. If you said it out loud, that made it true, and a part of you wasn’t prepared to accept that truth yet. 

A beat of silence, then another. Finally, Olga broke eye contact, resigned. 

“Well, if you change your mind, I’m here for you. And I won’t tell Alexia about that,” she nodded her head at your arm, “but you need to.” 

That, at least, you already knew. 

—

As luck would have it, no one’s paths really crossed the day Alexia came home. She’d stopped at her mother’s house for her Uncle’s birthday dinner, and by the time she got home, you were in bed, asleep. It had been oddly quiet on your end while she’d been gone, which she had chalked up to frustration with your injury. 

Alexia cracked open your door, finding you fast asleep in your bed before walking into her bedroom, body drooping with exhaustion. Captaincy duties had kept her in Madrid for an extra day, and she’d gone straight from the airport to her Mami’s house. She was more than ready to take a quick shower and collapse into bed before she inevitably had to get going again for the training session in the morning. It was just recovery, but still. 

As she entered her room, feelings of both love and sadness washed over her. The bed was still made, a soft pair of pajamas and a soothing face mask laid out on the bed for Alexia by her girlfriend. It made her smile, just briefly. Though Olga had gone to spend the night at own parent’s house, she’d thought to do something so simple and so kind for Alexia. 

Alexia stepped in closer to the bed, her lips quirking up into a small grin as she noticed the pajamas Olga had laid out were her favorite pair. Something on her nightstand caught her eye, though, a piece of paper with Olga’s familiar neat cursive marking it. 

Something is up with pequeña. I promised her I wouldn’t say anything, but go easy on her, and see if she’ll talk to you tomorrow after training. I love you. Olga. 

Alexia studied the note closely, feeling like she was missing something. You’d been fine when she left… and now you weren’t? Something was so wrong Olga felt the need to warn her yet still wouldn’t give Alexia a clue as to what was wrong because she’d promised you she wouldn’t? It was all odd, to say the least, but Alexia truly didn’t have the energy to try to figure it out at the moment. Instead, she set the note aside to be dealt with in the morning, and began her nighttime routine. 

Completely unaware that on just the other side of the wall, you were sobbing into your pillow, wishing for anything at all to make the pain stop, even if it was just for a second. 

—

You managed to keep it a secret until the next day, at training. Alexia had kept a very close eye on you all morning, which was odd, but you weren’t really paying attention to it. It was obvious you were just going through the motions, numbly and robotically hugging Alexia back when you wandered into the kitchen for breakfast, politely listening to Alexia’s stories from camp in the car. Still, her eyes were on you, and you didn’t think she was the only one watching. 

You’d almost made it through training, in fact, just pulling on a fresh shirt before you headed home when you heard Alexia’s sharp voice ring out through the locker room. 

“What is that?” She hissed. 

You jumped away from her like her words had scalded you, immediately tensing and crossing your arms over your chest. Your shirt was fully on, now, so the rest of your teammates were looking at you in confusion. Well, all of them except for Mapi. 

Alexia stomped closer, grabbing your arm and shoving your sleeve up once again. “You got a tattoo!” She gasped. “What were you thinking?! Who did it? Who would do this to a child? This is unacceptable, you are too young to be making a decision like this–” 

“Well, in Barcelona, actually, the age without parental consent for a tattoo is 16, and nena is 17.” Pina piped up from behind your captain. You shot her what you hoped was a grateful look, but you were pretty sure it just came across as terrified. Alexia turned slowly in Pina’s direction, glaring at the young forward for a moment. 

She was visibly fuming, nostrils flared, face red, vein in her forehead beginning to pop out. Angry Alexia was not a person anyone wanted to cross, and before she even had to speak a single word, Pina was throwing her bag over her shoulder, grabbing Patri’s hand, and all but dragging her out of the locker room. It would have been amusing if you weren’t so utterly terrified. 

You shrunk under Alexia’s gaze, and she tried to remember Olga’s note, telling her to go easy on you because something was wrong. All Alexia could think about, though, was when you’d promised her, sworn to her that you wouldn’t get a tattoo before you turned 18 and had properly considered what you wanted. It wasn’t so much the tattoo as it was the blatant breaking of a promise you’d made her. Well, it was the tattoo, too. 

Wordlessly, Alexia grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of the locker room and into the hall. You knew better than to try to pull away. She was going to yell, it was just a matter of location. 

“What were you thinking?” Alexia asked, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at you. All she saw was a kid, a kid who had been left alone for a week and broken a promise she’d made. A kid who’d just permanently inked something into her skin without so much as running the idea by anyone who cared for her. 

And you… well, you were a shell of yourself, truly. Somewhere deep inside you, anger began to bubble up. 

“I was thinking that I am legally allowed to get a tattoo.” You stated plainly. 

“You promised me that–”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You interrupted. “I am an adult, I’m allowed to change my mind.” 

“You are not an adult! Are you insane? This is not a decision an adult would make, I do not understand how you can stand here in front of me without any guilt–…”

 You began to tune your captain out, because she’d gotten that one part wrong. You felt guilt. Guilt and regret and pain. She didn’t even know the half of it, and she hadn’t even tried to ask. 

Olga and Mapi, they’d known something was wrong, but you hadn’t wanted to talk to them. If Alexia had asked, you would have told her, but instead she was shouting, yelling at you like you’d done something wrong and it was all too much for you to take. Without thinking about the consequences, you shoved past Alexia and made a break for the door, breaking into a full sprint as you exited the building. You weren’t sure where you were going, just somewhere far. Far away from questions and feelings and disappointment. 

—

Somehow, you ended up sitting under a tree in a park near Alexia’s house. It was an unconscious decision. Sometimes you’d come here to facetime Jackie, and both of you could pretend you were in the same place, back home. Pretend you were under the familiar branches, sitting in the patchy shade the tree provided. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine the trunk behind you, with both of your initials carved into the bark. 

But this wasn’t a lemon tree. Jackie wasn’t next to you. She wasn’t even on the phone with you. Jackie was gone. And for the first time, you felt the gravity of what that meant hit you fully in the chest. Because it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair. 

Jackie would never get to leave your hometown like you had. You wouldn’t grow up together. She wouldn’t come see you play at Camp Nou. She’d never become a vet like she wanted to. She’d never hug you again. 

And you… you’d never have a chance to tell her the truth. To grab her hand in yours and whisper the words you’d been terrified for years to say. You’d never know what it felt like to have her lips on yours, to hear her heartbeat in your ear as you fell asleep. You’d never know what she would have said when you told her that you’d been in love with her for years. That there wasn’t anyone else on earth for you. All you wanted was her. 

She’d never get to know that.

You’d never get to know if she felt the same way. 

The not knowing… that was almost as painful as her being gone. But not quite. Because you’d make a deal with the devil in a minute if you could, settle to just be her best friend if you could have her back. Having her in your life, in any capacity, would be better than the aching emptiness that currently suffocated you. 

You hadn’t known life without Jackie since you were very small. And secretly, you’d hoped you’d never know life without her. You dreamed of her moving to Barcelona, into an apartment the two of you shared. Bickering over the decor, and making sure she didn’t study too hard. 

With Jackie gone, she took that dream with her, and the reality you’d suddenly give anything to have back. 

Your best friend was never coming back. You didn’t care about football, or Alexia, or tattoos, or any of it. You just wanted Jackie back. 

It wasn’t entirely clear to you when the tears had started, but you didn’t think they’d be stopping anytime soon, and it was starting to get dark out. Crying your eyes out under a tree in a park as the sun set below the horizon didn’t seem like a phenomenal plan. And though it felt like a gargantuan task, you sat up and took a few deep breaths. 

It wasn’t lost on you that while your entire argument hinged on being an adult, you were not acting like one right now. You swiped at your face, trying to rid it of tears while you pulled your phone out of your pocket. You had 15 missed calls from Alexia, 10 from Olga, and a handful from a few of your other teammates. It was mostly annoying, honestly, until you opened your text chain with Alexia. She was panicked to begin, beside herself after her 6th test. 

Come home, now.

We need to talk about this.

Tell me where you are, I will come get you.

Nena, this is not funny. Answer the phone.

I know you are upset with me, but you need to answer. Now.

Just tell me that you are safe, please.

Nena?

You felt bad for worrying Alexia, and disappearing, but somewhere in between your sadness and your guilt,  anger had taken root. Replying to Alexia over text, as opposed to calling her, was fueled by your anger. And maybe a bit of fear. 

It was a short walk home, not nearly enough time for you to rid your face of all evidence of your emotional breakdown. Maybe, though, Alexia would stop and listen, if she saw the state you were in. 

Gripping the knob in your hand, you took a deep breath. You pushed the door open warily, and Alexia stopped her pacing to turn just in time to see you walk into the house. You were still a bit tearful, and still very angry, but Alexia didn’t care. She crossed the room in a few long strides, placing her hands on both your cheeks. 

“Are you okay?” She asked urgently, eyes flitting over you to check for injuries. Honestly. You’d been gone for two hours. 

“I’m fine.” You snapped, shoving her hands away from your face. That was all it took for Alexia’s face to drop into one of anger. Or maybe, the anger was just veiling her hurt. Either way, she was suddenly just as furious as you. 

“What were you thinking? Running off like that, not telling me where you went. You are irresponsible and thoughtless, and this is exactly why you are not mature enough to be making permanent decisions about your body, like getting a tattoo. I am so angry with you, nena-” 

“Leave. Me. Alone.” You scowled, shoving Alexia’s hands even further away from you. “I am an adult,”

“Adults do not storm off for several hours. Adults do not act like you are acting, and I-”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about! You don’t understand!” You knew you sounded like a teenage cliche, but you were past caring. 

“I do understand. You want to feel like an adult, so you make a stupid decision you think is mature-”

“It’s not stupid.” You snapped, anger growing by the second. The insult felt like a knife to the chest. Your lemon tree wasn’t stupid, your Jackie wasn’t stupid. 

“Well, it wasn’t smart! You are going to regret this, look back on it and wish you hadn’t gotten a ridiculous, idiotic tattoo for no reason other than-”

“Shut up!” You yelled. “Shut up Alexia! You have no idea why I got it, you haven’t even asked, you don’t get to yell at me when you haven’t even tried to understand.”

Olga had moved to hover in the doorway, motioning wildly for Alexia to calm down. Alexia’s eye twitched, and she took a few calming breaths. “Then tell me. Help me understand.” 

You didn’t even want to tell her anymore. You didn’t care if she understood or if she forgave you or stayed mad at you forever. You didn’t care about anything. All the fight seemed to drain out of your body, eyes fixing on your shoes as you finally told the truth. 

“My best friend from home… she died, last week, while you were away. I got it for her.” 

Alexia’s jaw dropped in horror, regret hitting her like a train. God, what had she done?

“I… oh, nena. I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t. I don’t need your pity, I just need you to leave me alone.” With that, you turned on your heel and headed for your room, 

—

You wished you didn’t need Alexia. You wished you could take the space you’d asked for, wished you could hold onto your anger and make her hurt the way she’d hurt you. As it was, though, you couldn’t. You managed 20 minutes alone in your room, sobbing into your pillow before you pulled your phone out. It was too much, it was all too much, and you knew that despite the colossal fight you’d just had with her, Alexia would want to help you. And you needed help.

Your breaths were coming in short gasps, spots dotting your vision. You weren’t even sure if you were still crying, or just hyperventilating, or maybe dying, but you had tried and failed to calm yourself down. You threw your pride to the side, and sent the text. 

Help please.

It had barely been marked delivered for a second before you heard Alexia’s thundering steps heading for the stairs, pounding up them, and then she was throwing your door open. She took one look at you before turning and shouting down the stairs to her girlfriend. 

“Olga, get her medicine from the cabinet please!” 

And then her hands were pulling yours away from your face, her comforting voice breaking through the deep ringing in your ears. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay. You just need to breathe, slow down and let yourself breathe.” She encouraged, shifting so that she was sat next to you. Her hand began to slide up and down your back, and you gripped at her free hand in panic. 

“I-I can’t-” 

Your captain shushed you softly, using her free hand to turn your face in her direction. “You can, just slow down, everything is okay.” 

How could she say that? How could anything be okay? 

“It hurts,” you sobbed, burying your face in your hands and leaning into Alexia’s embrace. 

“I know.” Her voice sounded choked up, her hands shaking just barely as she pulled you in tighter. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” 

Your chest burned with a need for oxygen, but just in time you heard footsteps rushing into the room, and Olga was pulling your hands away from your face, your anxiety medication in hand. Everything seemed slightly blurry, slightly out of focus, as you took the small pill and a sip of water from the glass in Olga’s hand. You could hear both of them talking, but the words weren’t processing in your head, which was pounding with an incessant headache suddenly. Flopping back onto the bed, you shut your eyes tightly, pressing the heels of your hands to your face. 

It seemed as though the unintelligible voices quieted, Alexia probably realizing you weren’t quite there with her anymore. You felt her grip your hand in hers, and you focused on the rise and fall of your chest, picturing your lungs steadily filling and emptying over and over until it no longer felt like someone had your chest in a vice. Alexia’s voice began to filter through again, soft reassurances whispered in the very quiet room. 

“You’re okay, hermanita.” Alexia murmured. She slipped and called you that sometimes; little sister. You pretended to hate it, normally, but now you just squeezed her hand tighter. 

 “You can breathe, you are safe.” Her voice was comforting in a way you couldn’t explain, washing over you and reinforcing the similar mantras you were repeating to yourself. You were okay. You could breathe. You were safe. 

Somehow, you felt yourself getting drowsy. Probably a combination of the anxiety medicine, the intense emotional stress of the day, and the fact that you’d barely slept the last few days. Eyes falling shut, you felt the bed shift next to you. Soon, a blanket was being draped over your body, a gentle kiss pressed to your forehead. 

“Rest, nena. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” 

You let yourself drift off, hoping somewhere in your head that you’d dream of Jackie. 

—

It felt like hours had passed when you woke, and the numbers on the clock agreed with that sentiment. Your body felt stiff, your head still ached, but you didn’t feel as though you were suffocating anymore. Gingerly, you rose from your bed. You had to face the music; better to get it over with now than wait and make the anticipation worse. Unsure of what awaited you, you cautiously crept downstairs, hearing the soft murmur of several different voices. They fell quiet as you shuffled down the hall and turned into the living room, Finding Alexia and Mapi sitting in the armchairs next to the window. 

Wordlessly, you moved over to the sofa, falling down onto it and waiting for the impending… well, you weren’t sure. Maybe they’d yell. More likely they’d have a billion questions. You’d almost prefer the yelling. 

“Feeling better?” Alexia inquired, shifting in her chair to face you instead of Mapi. Her fading blonde hair was in a lopsided ponytail, as if she’d thrown it up while pacing, something you’d seen her do more than once. Mapi, too, looked stressed, her fingers fidgeting and pulling at her cuticles in her lap. 

“Yeah.” You shrugged. In a very general, baseline way, you supposed you did feel better.

It was quiet for a moment longer, and you really couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was heavy, weighted, and it was grating on your nerves. “Just you two here? I expected half the team.” 

Mapi, bless her, cracked a smile, but Alexia remained solemn. 

“They wanted to come, but we decided it would be better just us for now.” Mapi explained. You were about to reply with another quip when Alexia seemed to burst, unable to contain her questions for a moment longer. 

“Nena, why didn’t you tell me about your friend? Why didn’t you tell anyone about it?” 

You shrugged. “You were all busy with your national teams. I didn’t want to bother you, and you were all far away. I dealt with it myself, it’s fine.”

“It is not fine. You lost someone important to you, and you did not tell me. You did not tell Olga, you did not tell Mapi when you saw her. You were all alone dealing with this.” Alexia’s voice seemed to waver and you flinched. This was why you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t want to burden anyone else with your issue. 

‘Did you not think we’d care? I would have come home in an instant if you’d called–”

“I know you would’ve. I didn’t want you to.” You cut in, trying to assuage Alexia’s guilt, but somehow only making it worse. 

“But why?” 

“I just needed to… process. I need to figure it out, and I didn’t want to talk about it.” 

Alexia still looked bewildered, but Mapi was nodding sympathetically. 

“That’s okay. I know Ale is doing a really bad job of showing it but we aren’t mad at you. We are just worried, we just want to help.” 

You nodded mechanically, trying to swallow the lump in your throat. How you weren’t cried out to the point of dehydration, you weren’t sure. 

Alexia cleared her throat. “I.. I’m just so sorry. This was Jackie, yes? Your best friend?” 

Best friend. Yes, she was. She’d never be more than that. You’d lost the person you loved and your best friend in one fell swoop, and the agony of that reminder didn’t fail to bring tears to your eyes again. wordlessly, you nodded, resting your elbows on your knees and putting your face in your hands. 

You felt both Alexia and Mapi move closer, squeezing onto the sofa on either side of you, but the comfort suddenly felt suffocating. 

“Please, guys, just leave me alone. I just need a minute and I’ll get it together.” You mumbled, trying to stand and make a break for it. Two sets of hands pulled you back down, though. 

“No. You are crying, I am not going to leave you alone. I am going to sit right here. We can talk or we can just sit, but I am here for you, okay? You do not have to deal with this alone.” Alexia promised, her voice thick with emotion. Mapi’s hand rested on your back, hand running soothing circles over your shirt. 

It was at this moment that you knew you couldn’t keep it in any longer. try as you might, Alexia and Mapi weren’t leaving you to deal with this on your own, weren’t letting you deal with this on your own. You’d never been able to tell Jackie your true feelings. But they had to be shared, had to exist outloud or you were sure the love you had for her would fade in time, and you never wanted that to happen. 

“I loved her.” You admitted quietly. 

“I know. She was your best friend–” Mapi soothed, squeezing your knee with her free hand. 

You interrupted her, pulling your hands from your face and looking between your teammates with bloodshot eyes. “No. I.. I loved her.” 

Mapi and Alexia froze almost simultaneously, matching shocked looks etched into their faces. Then, Alexia was wrapping her arms so tight around you that it hurt, pulling you into her. 

“Oh, nena.” She whispered. 

You were crying again before you could even try to stop it. 

“I never got to tell her. She never knew. And now she’s gone, and she’ll never know.” 

It was too much pain for one person to carry, more than both Alexia and María knew they’d be able to handle well. And you were so young, and so shattered. They didn’t have the right words to fix this, at least they didn’t think they did. All they could do was try. 

“She knows now. She knows how much you love her now.” María said quietly. 

Your bottom lip quivered as you looked at her, so much hope in your eyes that Mapi almost cried herself. 

“Do you think so?” Maybe you were desperate to believe anything that would make you feel better, at this point. But you didn’t really care. 

“She knows.” Alexia affirmed. 

Nodding shakily, you fixed your gaze on the fluffy white carpet underneath you. “I don’t know how to do any of this without her. I don’t want to.” 

Your teammates sighed, exchanging a glance as they shifted closer to you. 

“I don’t know how to help you.” Alexia admitted. “But we’re going to figure it out together, sí? Whatever you need, however you need to process this. We’re here. You aren’t alone, pequeña.” 

Mapi hummed her agreement, and you seemed to relax for the first time all day. Perhaps this whole time, that was all you needed to hear. 

That even if no one could make it better with a snap of their fingers, you weren’t alone. 

You settled back onto the couch, squished in between your two teammates, somehow knowing that fact, even if they hadn’t said it. 

Nothing was fixed, your very soul still hurt. But you weren’t alone. 

—

i did not proofread and i dont love the ending but here we are! i hope you enjoy <3

[joaeriz]

Paige x cheerleader reader, where they were both at UConn, and both ended up in Dallas? Paige as a wing and reader as a Dallas cowboys cheerleader. I wish I could write because I love this idea (also I loveddd the first fic🥳🥳)

Reporting Live From Dallas, TX!

Paige Bueckers x Fem!Cheerleader!Reader Long-Distance, Angst with Fluff, Slowish burn Reunion, Soft Smut, Established Relationship, Second Chances, UConn Backstory, Dallas Present, DCC Life, Emotional Breakup, Reunion Fic Word Count: ~1.5k

Summary: This request (which I was obsessed with writing) follows Paige Bueckers and her ex-girlfriend, a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, as their paths cross again after years apart. Both are chasing their dreams in Dallas, but when their past resurfaces, they’re forced to confront what they left behind. It’s a story about love, second chances, and finding your way back to each other. 💙✨

Authors note: HI ANONNNN i love this prompt so much, i really hope i did it justice!! Im so excited for the draft and i couldnt wait to post it till then so here u go:) im not ready for her to go to dallas:( she will be missed in cow town!! (AND THANK U FOR THE SUPPORT OF MY FIRST FIC ILY ILY ILY)

The first time Paige Bueckers saw you, you were halfway through a tumbling pass at the edge of the UConn football field, your ponytail catching the sunset like some kind of magic trick. She was a sophomore, walking back from the gym, earbuds in, hoodie up — until she caught sight of you. Short, graceful, grinning like you had the world in your pocket. You hit the final pose of your routine, and her heart just… stopped.

She didn't even realize she'd taken a step forward until one of your teammates noticed her standing there, staring.

From that day forward, it was inevitable.

You started dating during her junior year, your sophomore spring. It was slow at first — sneaky Starbucks runs, study sessions in the quiet part of the library that turned into whispered confessions, lingering touches on the walk back to the dorms. She’d come to your cheer practices and sit in the bleachers, pretending she wasn’t completely enamored.

You weren’t just pretty, though you absolutely were — tiny, bubbly, your voice like sunshine. But you were grounded, smart, funny. You never cared that she was “Paige Bueckers.” You cared that she was Paige — the one who liked mango smoothies and trash reality TV and wrote little poems in her Notes app when she couldn’t sleep.

She fell hard. And you did too.

For three years, it was everything.

But the year you graduated was the beginning of the end.

You left UConn that spring with a degree, a dream, and a spot on the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders. She stayed — chose her 5th year, despite being a top draft pick — unfinished business, she said.

You tried. God, you tried.

The FaceTimes, the voice notes, the long texts. But soon, her schedule filled up with workouts, press, and rehab sessions. Yours was full of training camp, sponsor meetings, and nonstop appearances.

Distance doesn’t kill love. Silence does.

And eventually, there was more silence than anything else.

No messy fight. No final call. Just... the fade. The unanswered texts. The unreturned “I love you” left hanging on the line. Until it was just… over.

At least, that’s what you thought.

--------------------------------------------------------------

FLASH FOWARD TO THE 2025 WNBA DRAFT

You heard the news on Instagram like everyone else.

“The Dallas Wings select Paige Bueckers with the first overall pick.”

You stared at the screen for five minutes. Heart pounding. Mind spinning.

And then you turned off your phone and went back to your DCC uniform fitting. Because what else could you do?

She was in your city now. After everything. After all the nights you'd cried in your tiny Dallas apartment wondering if she ever thought of you, ever missed you. Now she was here.

And you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

--------------------------------------------------------------

A WEEK LATER

It was a joint promotional event — the Wings and the Cowboys doing a preseason crossover campaign. A few cheerleaders, a few players. Some media fluff. You were selected because of your “UConn connection.” You almost laughed when they told you.

The day of the event, you put on the boots, the crop top, the confident smile. You looked the part. But inside? You were unraveling.

And then you saw her.

Across the green room.

Blonde hair. Light blue Wings jacket. Her eyes found yours like it was muscle memory.

Neither of you moved. Not at first.

Then Paige was walking toward you.

God, she looked good. Older. Stronger. Sadder, maybe. And when she stopped in front of you, hands in her pockets, all you could think about was how different everything felt — and how much hadn’t changed at all.

“Hey, Cowgirl.”

Your heart stuttered. “Hey, Bueckers.”

A beat. Two.

"You look…" She swallowed. "God, you look incredible."

You laughed, soft. "Still got the charm, huh?"

"I had to. I lost everything else."

The smile dropped off your face.

"Paige—"

"I messed up," she said quickly. “I let you go because I thought I had to chase this dream alone. That I’d come back for you once I’d figured it all out. But you didn’t wait. And I get it. I don’t blame you.”

“I didn’t not wait,” you said, voice tight. “I just didn’t know if you were ever coming.”

Silence again. It said everything words couldn’t.

Then she looked up at you. Blue eyes shining, raw.

“Can I take you to dinner?”

You blinked. “After all this time?”

“I don’t want more time,” she whispered. “I want you.”

--------------------------------------------------------------

Dinner turned into drinks.

Drinks turned into a hotel elevator ride full of silence and stolen glances.

And now — here you were. Back pressed against the hotel room door, Paige’s mouth on your neck, her hands everywhere. Hot. Desperate. Familiar.

You gasped as she kissed down your throat. “Paige—”

She froze. Pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I need you to say it’s okay,” she whispered. “I need to know this is real.”

You cupped her face, thumb brushing her cheek. “It’s real.”

She kissed you then like you were her religion. Like nothing else had ever made sense. She picked you up — effortlessly — carried you to the bed and laid you down like you were made of glass and gold.

Your boots hit the floor. Your top came off. Her jacket joined the pile.

You reached up, traced the scar on her knee — the one from surgery junior year. She shivered at your touch.

“I missed you every day,” you breathed.

“I never stopped loving you,” she said, eyes wet.

And then she was everywhere — her mouth on your chest, her hands gripping your thighs, her body moving against yours like she already knew the rhythm. Like she’d never forgotten how to worship you.

She took her time.

You were trembling by the time she pulled your bottoms down, her lips pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. She looked up at you, eyes dark, and whispered:

“I’m gonna make you remember what we had. What we are.”

Then her mouth was on you, and your world tilted off its axis.

You came undone with her name on your lips, her fingers laced with yours, your heart finally — finally — full again.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Sunlight filtered in through the curtains.

You were tangled in sheets and limbs, your head on her chest, one of her hands tracing lazy circles on your back.

“You snore,” she said softly.

You smiled into her skin. “Liar.”

“Okay, barely. It’s cute.”

You looked up. Her hair was messy, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, but she was glowing.

“What happens now?” you asked, not ready to lose this again.

She kissed your forehead.

“I moved here for basketball. But I’m staying for you.”

Your heart caught.

“I don’t know what the future looks like,” she admitted. “But I know I don’t want it without you.”

You exhaled, finally letting yourself believe it. “Then let’s figure it out.”

She grinned. “Starting with brunch?”

You laughed, pulling her back down into the pillows. “Starting with round two.”

And this time, you weren’t rushing toward the end.

You had all the time in the world.

[frightfullytreeish]

post 8x13 episode coda, facetime cooking yet again

"So you just stay hidden and keep quiet-"

"Yeah, dad, I know how surprises work."

"-and then when I give the signal, I'll turn the camera on you and you shout surprise!"

Chris rolls his eyes from where he's sitting at the kitchen table, putting minimal effort into tearing up the mozzarella. "It's just Buck. You don't have to be so weird about it."

"I'm not being weird," Eddie says, checking his watch for the fifteenth time in five minutes.

It's normal to be excited about seeing your best friend and getting to share some good news with him, isn't it? Nothing weird about looking forward to that. One night with Chris back under his roof felt like a dream after the nightmare came true; all Eddie wants to do apart from talk to his son is talk to Buck about it.

Checking the time again, he watches the seconds hand tick around to 12pm precisely before he sends the facetime request; Buck accepts it immediately, as if he was just standing in his kitchen 800 miles away waiting for Eddie to call. His face fills the screen with a broad, toothy grin that slips in and out of focus while he fiddles with his cell phone, getting it propped up perfectly before he steps back and salutes.

"Afternoon, chef."

"Afternoon, chef," Eddie grins back. "What's on the menu today?"

"Stir fry. With-" Buck pauses dramatically, holding up a brown paper bag and shaking it at the camera, "the freshest baby king oysters on the west coast."

"Mrs Choi still hustling you, huh?"

"We still have our mutually beneficial arrangement," Buck corrects him, loftily.

From behind him, Eddie hears Chris cough out something that sounds like 'gross'. He glances over his shoulder, catches Chris' eye and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at his son's horrified expression.

"I'm telling you, man," he says, more for Chris' benefit than anything, "she's saving way more on labour than you are on mushrooms. You know how much it costs to get someone to come clear your gutters?"

"Yeah, but it's fun. I found a California red-legged frog up there once! They're a threatened species, you know."

"Wish I'd known a month ago you think cleaning gutters is fun. Woulda brought you out with me, saved me doing it all myself."

It's the wrong thing to say; Eddie feels it as soon as he's said it, in the burst of silence that follows and the way Buck's expression slips, just for a second. And there's the rub, right? That Eddie didn't - couldn't, shouldn't - bring Buck with him.

"Like you could afford my rates," Buck says after a beat too long, smoothing out the silence with a laugh while he busies himself gathering his ingredients, not looking at the camera.

"Oh, my mushrooms aren't good enough for you?"

"'Fraid not. So what's cooking today, chef?"

"Pizza from scratch."

Glancing up at Eddie again, Buck whistles. "Dough and sauce?"

"Of course, what do you take me for?"

"What's the special occasion?"

"No reason," Eddie says as casually as he can while he's trying not to smile. "Just making sure my sous chef earns his keep."

He sees Buck's face light up in gleeful understanding the moment before he turns the camera on Chris, who waves his mozzarella-speckled fingers and yells, "Surprise!", only sorta sarcastically.

"Holy shit!" Buck shouts. "Look at you, Chris! How tall are you now? You're gonna be towering over Eddie in no time."

"I'm coming for the crown," Chris says.

"Eddie, you'd better sleep with one eye open! I mean, that is, if - Chris, you're - ?"

"Back where he belongs," Eddie fills in, holding his cell phone out like a teenager taking a selfie so he can smack an obnoxiously loud kiss onto the top of Chris' head with them both in frame. "Moved him in last night."

Buck's smiling so broadly at the two of them that Eddie has to take a quick screenshot: Buck, beaming in the kitchen Eddie still thinks of as his, with Eddie and Chris in their pop-up window in the corner of the screen, Chris caught mid disgruntled eye-roll.

"That's awesome," Buck says. "I - I'm so happy for you both."

And of course Buck is happy, Eddie knows - doesn't need telling - but as the call goes on and him and Chris fill Buck in on yesterday's disastrous chess tournament and Eddie's worst passenger this morning, Buck gets quieter and quieter. Until finally Chris gets bored of waiting for the pizza sauce to finish reducing and wanders off to play Minecraft, and then it's just Buck and Eddie again, in not-quiet companionable silence. Eddie gives the sauce another stir, and waits.

Without looking up from whatever he's chopping, Buck says, "It's stupid."

"You? Never."

"Har dee har," Buck scoffs, smiling anyway. "But it - it's fine, I don't wanna - tonight's about Chris being back home with you."

"Once it's time to assemble the pizza, maybe. Right now he's busy digging perfect squares, or whatever it is they do? I - really don't get Minecraft," Eddie admits and Buck laughs again, looking back up at the camera. "Point is, it's just me and you now. In fact…"

Turning the burner right down, Eddie leaves the sauce to simmer and grabs a beer from the fridge. He carries the bottle and his phone out into the backyard; he hasn't done anything with it beyond hacking back the wildest clumps of weeds, too busy making the indoors livable to think about the outdoors, but there's an old bench on the back porch. Eddie drops down onto it, props his feet up on a pile of loose bricks and balances his cell phone on the peeling window sill.

"There," he says, cracking open his beer. "Spill. What's up?"

On screen, Buck has moved to lean against the kitchen counter, looking down at Eddie in the phone in his hands. He shrugs.

"It's stupid," he says again. "Guess I just realised I - I'm kinda jealous. Of you, getting to hang out with Chris. But mainly of Chris, for getting to hang out with you. It's petty, I know. I just… miss you."

His camera is pointing right up his nose, an angle that should be objectively terrible for anyone, but staring into Buck's nostrils still feels like there's no view Eddie would rather have. Nobody else in the world, in this moment, that Eddie would rather talk to.

"I get it," he says.

Buck sighs, a sad dog sort of sigh. "Yeah. I know. I know you miss me too."

"Don't you forget it."

Eddie sips his beer, picks at the label, frowns out at his yard; it's a good size, lined with mature trees. Eddie could grow flowers, maybe, like Shannon always wanted, or try his hand at tomatoes. There's room to put down roots, if he wanted.

If Buck were here, he'd probably spend an hour or two working out what kind of trees they were, until he got distracted by a rare species of millipede or whatever.

"I'm jealous too," Eddie says to the yard. "Of everyone at the 118 who still gets to have your back on a call. Of - you know your sister keeps sending me photos of you when you guys're hanging out? I guess so I feel included or something, I don't know, but it's making me jealous of her too.

"Hell, I think I'm even jealous of the house, because it's yours now. I don't know, man. I mean it. I miss you, and I get it, okay?"

There's a pause, long enough for Eddie to stop peeling the label off his beer bottle and glance back at his phone again - back up Buck's nostrils. Buck's head is ducked, chin into his chest, and he's grinning kinda bashfully.

"Okay, Eddie," he says.

They look at each other. Buck lifts his cell phone back up to face height again, so that they're eye-to-eye, almost, and Eddie imagines everything else he could be jealous of in the kitchen of 4995 South Bedford right now. The counter under Buck's thighs, the phone in his hand, the glass screens between them.

"You should come visit," Eddie says. "In a week or two, maybe, once Chris has settled in."

"Okay," Buck says again, softly.

"Good," Eddie says.

He takes Buck back into the kitchen. Pictures him there in the room, in the flesh, while he stirs his pizza sauce and Buck heats the oil in his wok 800 miles away. Eddie could be jealous, he imagines, of the air between their bodies, if he let himself.

He imagines letting himself.

Now on AO3 here