summary: For as long as she can remember, it always started with him—the boy next door and her brother’s best friend. Over the years, an innocent childhood crush became a habit, a secret she got used to keeping to herself as she stayed stuck in the role of the nerdy little sister. Now that summer has arrived, things are finally beginning to melt under the heat—and it might just turn cruel.
word count: 9,1k
author’s note: enjoy.. ;) ! english is not my first language, so I hope you keep that in mind! any feedback, questions, writing tips, and criticism will be greatly appreciated! this chapter contains sexual content, MDNI
The sun is spilling through the room when the familiar noises wake you up.
It’s Dusty gnawing at the door of her cage, high squeaks piercing the quiet room. Ilia is laying on his stomach next to you, his cheek squished against the pillow, his arm stretched out like he's searching for you. You don't realize it for a couple of seconds, shifting next to him and closing your eyes in hopes that Dusty will grow silent soon enough, but then it hits you. Your eyes widen. It's way past dawn and Ilia is still in your room, twisted in your sheets, peacefully sleeping next to you.
"Ilia," you whisper, leaning down to gently shake him, but it doesn't work. You glance at Dusty, who has grown even noisier after seeing you wake up, eager to get your attention. Looking at the door like Jace is about to burst in at any second, you swallow, shaking Ilia with a little more force. "Dammit, wake up!"
His eyes flutter open, his eyebrows knitting in confusion and his mouth slightly agape as he squints up at you. There are faint creases on his cheek, his lips are slightly fuller, and his blonde hair is all messy. The sight is so beautiful that it makes your chest tighten.
"What's wrong?" he mumbles in a groggy voice, laying his head back on the pillow so softly that you can't even find it in yourself to scold him. His eyes snap shut tight again. "It's so early."
"You promised to go back to your room."
"But your bed is so comfy," he sighs, rolling over onto his back and rubbing his eyes. He looks up at you, realizing from your tone that it's serious. "Actually, I've always wanted to sleep in it. It's so soft and cozy. And the sheets smell so nice."
"It's not the sheets. It's the Victoria's Secret body mist."
"So it's you," he grins, sitting up as he extends his arms to trap you in a hug. You push him off with a smile, trying to maintain a strict expression.
"Go back to your room."
"It's a Sunday morning and Jace usually sleeps until, what, 1 p.m. or 2 p.m.?"
"It's not a risk I'm willing to take."
"Fine," he exhales, pursing his lips as he gets up. He glances at Dusty, who has grown quieter, her curious eyes fixed on the two of you. Her tiny hands are clutching the bars, her expression so innocent and sad that it softens you. You crouch down to finally take her out. "Aww, Dusty… Wait, don't let her out yet!"
His voice rises, but it's way too late. She's already out, your fingers dug into her soft fur as you gently scratch her. You turn toward him, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you pad over.
"Don't you wanna pet her?"
"Wasn't I supposed to leave?" he tries to joke.
You roll your eyes at his defensiveness. It's been years and he still isn't used to Dusty's company, which is a bit annoying. "Overcome your fear and hold her."
"I do not fear her," he insists, but the tone of his voice and the reluctant way he caresses her fur say the exact opposite. You nudge her into his hands and he almost drops her, his hands shaking. Surprisingly, Dusty doesn't try to wriggle free from his touch. "She feels so… warm."
"Isn't she cute?"
"Very much," he grins, cradling her in his arms like she's one of his cats. "Just like the owner."
Then, he proceeds to smack a loud kiss onto your cheek, the heat rushing to your face at the innocent affection. You make him let Dusty go, gently pushing him out of your room while promising him that you'll meet him down in the kitchen for breakfast.
As you start making your bed, you spot a crumpled tissue laying on the nightstand. A stupid smile plasters itself across your face as you recall the night before, a familiar, electric feeling settling deep in your stomach.
"Did you get back with your ex?"
"Ew, no."
"Then what has gotten you giggling like that?"
You squint at Allie, who is spinning in her chair, an almost stupid smile plastered on her face as she types out a response on her phone, her nails clinking against the screen. She’s never been much of a texter—especially not someone whose face lights up with every single notification—until recently. It makes you wonder if it has something to do with a boy, because in your experience, it always does.
"No one."
Her face suddenly turns serious, locking her phone as she straightens her spine. You don't press her, because you don't like it either when you're texting Ilia and others bring up your stupidly excited face. So far, only Ziggy and Cam know the truth, and you would've told Allie too if she didn't have a habit of speaking before thinking.
"Mhm, sure." You give her a teasing smile, your eyes snapping back to your phone as you feel her staring at you. A few seconds pass before she exhales, shaking her head. You stare up at her in confusion.
"Girl, fuck you," she rolls her eyes at you, taking you aback with her sudden outburst. "Acting like you've not been sneaking around with your brother's best friend."
"What the hell, Allie?!" You look around with a horrified expression, getting up from the floor and spinning her chair around so she's forced to face you. "Are you insane?"
"Me and the people on X, right?" She gives you an annoyed expression, referring to the discussion that's been going on Twitter for the last few days.
You hadn't intended it, but when you streamed on Twitch with Ilia, you ended up wearing that blue t-shirt that belonged to him. Never in a million years would you have expected the fans to dig up old pictures of him, realizing that the t-shirt you were wearing was the exact same as his. It was enough to spark a discussion, along with compilations of snippets from the stream where fans claimed it was a soft-launch. You'd be lying if you said the implications didn't flatter you.
"Oh wow, you don't even try to hide it anymore," she rolls her eyes once again, slapping your hand away when you try to tug on her braid. "Although I gotta say, I'm disappointed you didn't tell me sooner. You don't trust me?"
"Of course I do!"
"Then why didn't you tell me?!"
"Because you have a habit of speaking before thinking!" You slap a hand over her mouth, forcing her to shut up before the whole cafe hears about your secret affair. "Might as well take a mic and announce it publicly!"
She licks your palm. Your expression turns disgusted as you pull your hand away, quickly washing it under the tap water. Allie looks incredibly content with the outcome, her expression smug now that she has finally made you admit your secret out loud.
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Like what?"
"Like you're gloating," you huff, wiping your wet hands on your apron. "It's your turn to spill."
"I'm not in love like you," she waves it off, trying to pass it off as something casual. But even if she insists otherwise, you know the look on her face and the change in her behavior. She's falling for someone.
It's 10 p.m. when Jace picks you up. It's raining nonstop as he drags your bike into the trunk, asking about Allie's absence. She had to leave fifteen minutes earlier to catch a ride from a friend, leaving Jace slightly disappointed that he didn't get a chance to flirt with one of your friends again.
It's evening when you get back home after going to the movies with Allie. You're not surprised to find Jace and his friends hanging out in the living room, Ilia having texted you prior that he would be coming over along with them. The table is cluttered with empty beer cans and snack packages, making you internally roll your eyes at their inability to clean up after themselves before they start playing.
Josh is the first one to notice you. He waves, a bright smile plastered on his face as he calls out your name. Out of all Jace's friends, he's your favorite.
Well, obviously after Ilia.
"Hey, everyone."
You smile at them, your eyes landing on Ilia just a fraction of a second longer than the others as his lips curl into a subtle smirk. Jace is too engrossed in the game to turn around and acknowledge you, playing Call of Duty on a television screen split into four squares. Ilia is the only one left out, harboring a dislike for the game just as you do.
"Ew," you can't help yourself, your face twisting into a disgusted expression. "Why do you all keep playing it? The latest versions suck."
"Says a girl who plays Valorant," Max chuckles, rolling his eyes. "You don't like it because it's harder."
You snort, a genuine laugh spilling out of your mouth, mirrored by the others—excluding Max himself.
"Bro, everyone who has played both games knows that COD is so much easier."
"Yeah! Like, in Valorant, you move a millimeter while shooting and your bullets end up in a different zip code," Josh chimes in, agreeing with his twin, Jack.
Jack glances at you from time to time with a weird expression you can't quite decipher. You refuse to look back at him, his comment from a month ago still leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.
Jace yells at the screen, entirely on your side. "Yeah, my sister would clear you out in COD and she has barely even played it, you stupid shit."
"I'd like to see her try," Max challenges.
"Yeah, no thanks," you snort at him.
You turn to head up the stairs, planning to feed Dusty before Cam and Ziggy call. Tonight, the chances are high that you can finally rank up, and excitement bubbles up in your chest at the mere possibility. You reach the top of the stairs, stopping briefly to reply to Allie, when you hear Jace's voice break through the noise of the game, the sharp edge of annoyance instantly clear.
"Did you just stare at my sister's ass?"
You freeze. Your eyes widen in pure panic as you immediately imagine Ilia's horrified expression. Your palms go slick and sweaty against your phone as you lock the screen, but it's not Ilia's voice that replies.
"What?" Jack snorts, a defensive chuckle escaping his throat. "No, I didn't."
"Yes, you did. Your eyes followed her all the way up the stairs. Don't bullshit me."
"You're delusional, bro."
"I recognize that dirty look on your face," Jace's voice rises, his tone dead serious now. "Don't you dare try anything with her."
"Does that threat only apply to me?" Jack shoots back.
"What?" Jace’s voice sounds genuinely confused.
You grip the wooden staircase railing, unlike your brother acutely aware of exactly what Jack could be hinting at.
"You're the one ogling my sister," Jace snaps.
"Am I?"
"Bro, shut the fuck up and just own it," Josh intervenes, and you can practically picture him forcefully nudging his twin in the shoulder to shut him down.
"It applies to everyone in this room," Jace’s voice drops, cold and severe, sending a chill straight down your spine. You don't even want to imagine the look on Ilia's face right now. "She's off-limits. End of discussion."
No one dares to say another word. You stand frozen at the top of the landing for a full minute, physically unable to walk away, almost as if you're waiting for them to bring you up again. But the living room quickly and awkwardly changes the topic back to the game.
A moment later, Ilia loudly excuses himself to get a glass of water. Peeking through the banister, you catch the tense line of his jaw as he walks past the living room toward the kitchen. He doesn't look up, completely missing you standing there.
And later that night, long after the guys have gone home and you're laying in bed texting him in the dark, neither of you mentions a single word about it.
When Ilia sets off on his family cruise vacation, he leaves his cats with you. Since Jace is allergic to them—in the literal sense, not just because he’s a dog person—you have no choice but to temporarily evict Dusty to another part of the house. Instead, you help Ilia drag his cat tree into your room, setting up pillows and blankets to make them feel at home.
"Miu Miu usually likes to wake me up pretty early, so keep her out of the room if she starts doing that," Ilia explains, cradling Mila, the newest member of his quadcat family, in his arms. She is basically attached to him. Jace joked that it only took Ilia getting three cats for him to finally end up with one that didn’t hate him. "Mysti won't bother you. This little one might try to cuddle up to you, though."
"I feel like she's gonna be very sad when you leave."
"Yeah, please don't remind me," he exhales, pressing soft kisses onto Mila's head as she purrs warmly against his chest.
You smile at the sight, your heart threatening to burst with adoration. "You know, someone else is going to miss you, too."
"Yeah, I know," he smiles, his eyes subtly darting toward Mysti, who is already perched high up on the cat tree, staring out the window. "Secretly, she loves to cuddle me."
You look at him with a disappointed, raised eyebrow. Confusion washes over his face for a few seconds before the realization hits him, a wide grin breaking across his lips.
"I'm gonna miss you, too."
He leans in, placing soft kisses on your cheeks just like he did with Mila. The door is shut tight, and both of you know Jace has absolutely no interest in watching Ilia's cats settle into your room. You don't shy away from his touch, instead slipping your fingertips into his hair when his lips finally slide over yours.
"Make sure to send me pictures from the cruise."
"Of course," he looks at you like it's not even up for discussion. "I'll bore you with them."
"And make sure to put on sunscreen."
"Yes, ma'am."
Then, he has to leave, and you are left in the quiet company of his cats. You leave your bedroom door cracked open so they can wander out if they get bored, but Mysti and Miu Miu stay put on the tree, both of them fast asleep. Mila settles directly onto your stomach, her tiny body warm against yours. A comfortable drowsiness washes over you, and eventually, you close your eyes, too.
Ilia celebrates the 4th of July on the cruise, while you celebrate with your family at your dad's friend's house, leaving the gathering early with the excuse that you don't want to leave the animals alone at home for too long. Dusty has made herself comfortable in Jace's room, but she offers you even less affection than she rarely does anyway, your brother constantly joking that she's mad at you.
A week passes in a blur, and before you know it, he is back. He surprises you, picking you up after a late-night shift at the cafe. His nose is a little sunburnt, but overall he has kept his promise; the golden tan compliments his skin, almost shimmering under the dim streetlights.
"You look so good."
"So do you."
"My hair is a mess and I stink of coffee and cinnamon."
"I do find the smell comforting," he mumbles into your neck, pulling you flush against him one more time. "I brought you a present."
"From the cruise?"
You raise an eyebrow, following him to the car. He holds the door open for you, signaling for you to climb in as he carries your bike to store it in the trunk. You settle into the passenger seat that has gradually become yours, fixing your hair in the mirror in an attempt to look better for him—despite him already seeing you, and despite knowing that he doesn't care about a messy hair.
By the time he gets into the driver's seat, you have already texted your father that you're grabbing burgers with Allie, indicating that you will be home later than you usually are. Ilia stretches his hand toward the backseat and pulls out a thick book, the Sudoku grid illustration on the cover making you chuckle.
"You mentioned that you completed the one your father brought you."
"I did," you smile at him, leaning over to smack a loud kiss on his cheek to show your gratitude. "Thank you."
"Although Liza was a little suspicious that I was getting you a gift," he raises an eyebrow, exhaling at his sister's behavior like she’s giving him a hard time. "She said, and I quote, that I was being 'unusually generous.'"
"But you've brought me gifts before."
"Yeah, but I might've gotten you another gift, too," he grins, his smile on full display as your stomach basically flips upside down. "I guess two gifts is a bit suspicious."
"Aren't you gonna show me?"
"Won't you thank me first?"
"I already thanked you," you raise an eyebrow, anticipating exactly where this is going. "Wasn't it sufficient?"
"No, the second gift requires more than a kiss on the cheek."
You huff, rolling your eyes, but you still lean in. You capture his lips with yours as you close your eyes, hearing him sigh in pure bliss. His fingertips slip into your hair, and before you know it, you find yourself leaning over the center console. His hands grip your hips as you settle into his lap, his fingertips tracing your bare legs.
"I told my dad I was staying out with Allie," you breathe out, sweeping your eyes over his face as a small smirk turns up his lips. "We don't have to go back yet."
"Good. I wasn't planning to."
He kisses you again, harder this time, his fingers slipping beneath your shirt as his tongue slides into your mouth. It's all too much and still not enough. You want nothing more than to let him peel your clothes away when he cups your breast through your thin bra, but you're in the car. Even though the street is dead quiet, thinking of doing anything more here is insane.
"Ilia," you pull back, your chest heaving up and down. His mouth is glistening as he furrows his eyebrows, sensing the slight panic in your voice. You lick your lips, swallowing hard so you can even out your breath.
"What is it?"
"What's my second present?"
He stares at you for a fraction of a second, and then his face breaks out into a wide smile. He rolls his eyes, not even slightly mad about the interruption. You climb off his lap and slide back into your own seat, turning your whole body toward him so you can just stare at him as he talks about whatever comes to mind, simply because you've missed him so much.
"A couple of days ago my manager called me," he starts explaining, licking his lips as he drags out the words, giving you the impression that he's trying to gauge your reaction to whatever he’s about to say. "You know, after the Olympics, I've been getting quite a lot of offers."
"You just had to quickly brag about it, huh?"
"Absolutely," he grins. "And this one might be the best one I have ever received."
"Is it a Dior partnership?" Your eyes practically sparkle with excitement, shifting in your seat so you can lean in closer to him. "Is it a Calvin Klein ad?"
He bursts out laughing, shaking his head like you've said something impossible. "I don't think anyone wants to see me in a Calvin Klein ad."
"I do."
"Well, we can arrange something. You don't need Calvin Klein for that."
"Okay, now spill," you tug at his arm, completely impatient for the news. "What is it?!"
"I got invited to a movie premiere."
"Oh! Which one?"
"Spider-Man."
He says it like he’s testing the waters. It takes you a couple of seconds to process, and then your eyes widen, your mouth left slightly agape as he chuckles at your reaction.
"Oh my god."
"Yeah."
"Oh my god, you're gonna see Tom and Zendaya," you laugh, unable to control your excitement. "That's insane."
"We're gonna see Tom and Zendaya," he corrects gently, the playful smile on his lips turning incredibly soft.
You freeze, your breath catching in your throat as you stare at him.
"They said I can bring a plus-one," he says, his blue eyes holding yours with absolute certainty. "And of course I'm taking you with me."
For a moment, your heart beats so hard and fast it feels like it's bruising your ribs. A cold rush of panic and dizzying excitement sweeps through your veins, leaving your palms sweaty.
Sensing the silent shock taking over your body, Ilia reaches out and slides his fingers through yours, squeezing your hand tightly between his warm palms to ground you.
"Yeah," he whispers, his grin widening. "We're going to London."
"Shut up," you shake your head, tears instantly prickling the backs of your eyes. You squeeze your eyelids shut, refusing to let the words sink in because it feels like a dream you're about to wake up from. "No way. Ilia, don't joke."
"Yes way."
And then, even though you try not to, tears of pure excitement escape your eyes. He laughs softly, pulling you against his chest while you sob into his shirt, scolding him for making fun of you during a moment like this.
No one is surprised to learn that Ilia chose you to take to the premiere.
Jace is actually more excited about it than you are—having absolutely no clue what this three-day getaway in London could turn into behind his back.
In a week, you leave for London. Betty covers your shifts at the cafe without making a fuss, even though Allie is away on vacation, too. Jace is the one to drive you both to the airport, and he's the very first one to text you asking for updates every few hours.
You end up sharing a hotel room with Ilia, but even that doesn't come as a surprise to your brother. Jace instantly assumes that Ilia is the one sleeping on the couch. You silently agree with him, sharing a brief, knowing glance with Ilia as you both press your lips together to keep from laughing.
"It's so comfy," Ilia sighs, jumping onto the king-sized bed and burying his head in the pillows. He closes his eyes with a content groan. "Come here."
"Comfier than mine?"
"Come and find out."
The mattress dips beneath your weight as you climb onto it, settling next to him with a soft smile stretching across your face. He immediately slides his arm around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he drapes his leg over yours, anchoring you to him.
"What if we nap for a while?" he mumbles into your neck. "Then we can grab some breakfast and explore the city. Around evening, the stylists will come by so we can choose our looks, do the fittings, and get them tailored if needed."
"After ten hours of travel, of course I want to sleep."
"Good."
He nuzzles his head deeper into your shoulder, his arm locked securely around your waist as his fingers lace with yours. His breath falls softly against your skin. You close your eyes and finally let sleep take over—this time with no rush, no alarms, and not a single trace of worry in your bones.
People in London don't pay attention to you. In the busy crowd, you're able to hold his hand in public, kiss him on the streets, and just be together like you're meant to.
You end up choosing the black dress, the rhinestones adorning the structured corset sparkling under the lights. It matches his suit perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat when you see him fully dressed for the first time.
Although it's not his first time walking a red carpet, he's not entirely used to the madness either. His palms are sweaty when he takes your hand and leads you toward the crowd. You're incredibly anxious, feeling so many eyes on you, feeling out of place in a glamorous lifestyle that everyone else seems to blend into so easily. But he squeezes your hand tightly and reassures you, his smile so comforting that it immediately eases your panic.
"And what if I kiss you right now?" he murmurs, his voice teasing, his eyes edged with a soft admiration as he gazes at you.
"Jace will gouge his eyes out when he sees the pictures."
"You're so beautiful, it's criminal not to do anything," he sighs, keeping his hand resting on your lower back. It's respectful and casual, but enough to show everyone that you've come together and you're with him. "I'm gonna backflip into misery."
You laugh, and then the photographers start shouting his name. You don't know which camera to look at, and for a whole thirty seconds you hold your breath and try to smile despite the panic fluttering inside, but his arm is secure around your waist and it's more than enough to ground you.
A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you finally walk into the lobby. It's free of flashing cameras and excited shouts, and people are already talking, sipping champagne as they chat away. Ilia is introduced to some people, and you stand beside him, awkwardly looking at them while they talk, occasionally answering whatever they happen to ask you too, though you don't have much to contribute to the conversation.
The spider-web-garnished cocktails catch your eye, and you instantly hurry over to try them, Ilia waiting to take a sip from your glass because he's convinced he won't like it.
"It's… decent," you try not to wince, offering him a sheepish smile as you hand it over. "It's sweet."
"Your face says otherwise."
"I fear they don't serve apple juice here, Ilyusha."
"Stop making fun of me," he nudges you with a teasing smile, leaning in close. He whispers something to you, and your eyes widen as you look in the direction he points—Tom and Zendaya are walking in.
"I'm gonna faint."
"Don't."
"I'm not leaving this theater until I get a photo with them."
"You will."
He reassures you, chuckling at your enthusiasm that almost resembles panic. You don't get a chance to talk to them right away, and by the time you get close enough, you have to head inside to watch the movie, your seat assigned right next to Ilia's. Throughout the whole movie your eyes are fixed on the screen, and he keeps looking over to make sure you're doing okay, happy just watching you have a great time.
Before you leave for the night, you excuse yourself to the restroom. You can't help but laugh at your reflection staring back at you from the mirror because you look almost ridiculous with the wide smile on your face. But because you aren't used to wearing high heels, your feet are slowly starting to give out. You wince as you slip one shoe off to fix a band-aid that already has a blood stain on it. You dig into your purse only to find it completely empty of what you need—your phone, a mini lipstick, and mascara are taking up all the space.
You groan, almost burying your face in your hands before remembering you can't ruin your makeup. "Oh, great!"
"Need some help?"
You freeze at the familiar voice. You look up with wide eyes to find Zendaya staring at you with a warm smile. The words die in your throat, your palms going sweaty as you nervously chuckle and mumble something almost too incoherent. She doesn't mind your awkwardness at all, offering you some band-aids and chatting away with you while she fixes her makeup in the mirror. Your heart is almost bursting out of your chest. She compliments your dress, and her warm, down-to-earth energy makes you feel instantly welcome.
When you finally step back out, Ilia is waiting.
"What took you so long?" he asks, his eyebrows furrowed in slight concern as he leads you out of the lobby so you can head back to the hotel to change for the afterparty.
You grin, clutching his arm tightly. "I just talked to Zendaya," you gush, your voice full of pure admiration. "And she told me my dress looks beautiful!"
"It's not the dress, it's you."
"That's not the point!"
He laughs, letting you tell him all about the restroom encounter for the entire ride back.
Once you're back in the quiet sanctuary of the hotel room, the transition is quick and intimate. He stands behind you, his warm hands helping you zip up the short, sleek dress you've chosen for the afterparty, and in return, you help him restyle his hair, running your fingers through the strands that have become messy from the London wind.
The afterparty is louder, warmer, and much more relaxed. The room is bathed in low lighting with a heavy bass vibrating through the floor. Without the cameras and the formality of the red carpet, everyone is just themselves, having fun.
You and Ilia slide into the crowd easily, and the highlight of the night comes when you run into Zendaya again near the lounge area—only this time, Tom is right there with her. She recognizes you and to your surprise both of them recognize Ilia, your boyfriend blushing when they highlight his talent. The four of you stand together for a few minutes, chatting casually about the movie and how much you're enjoying London, before you finally get the group photo you've been hoping for all night.
Once they wave goodbye and head back into the crowd, you stare at the picture on your phone in sheer disbelief, while Ilia just laughs, pulling you flush against his side with a quiet "told you so" smile.
It's midnight when you return to the hotel, both of you still giggling as you stumble into the dark room. Your feet are aching from wearing heels for the entire evening, forcing you to lean heavily against Ilia's arm as he leads you inside. Before he even flips the bedside lamp on, casting a soft, warm glow across the room, you have already kicked off your shoes. You pad across the carpet and sprawl across the bed, letting out a long sigh of relief.
"It was the best night of my life," you mumble, staring up at the ceiling, still entirely starstruck as the memories rush through your mind. "It literally feels like a dream."
You prop yourself up on your elbows, looking over at Ilia. He is already unbuttoning his crisp white shirt, watching you with a soft, quiet smile that feels infinitely more intimate than anything on the red carpet. Sliding off the mattress, you reach behind your back to pull down your zipper, but your fingers are trembling too much to get a grip.
Suddenly, the brush of his warm fingertips against your exposed spine makes you freeze.
"Let me help you," he murmurs.
His voice is low in the stillness of the room as he steps up behind you. Your breath hitches in your throat as you stand perfectly still, silently letting him.
The metal teeth of the zipper glide down with a soft hiss. You let the fabric of the dress slowly slip from your torso. As the cool air of the hotel room hits your bare skin, a shiver runs down your spine—your chest tightening not just from the temperature, but from the sheer anticipation of what is about to happen. You swallow hard, your palms growing slick at your sides as you slowly turn around to face him.
His gaze sweeps over your body, slow and reverent, before finally settling on your eyes. The warmth of his hands as he reaches up to cup your cheeks is almost overwhelming.
"So beautiful," he whispers.
He leans in, softly pressing his mouth to yours. The kiss is so incredibly gentle that your eyes flutter shut, your lips parting slightly as he begins to pepper slow, warm kisses down your jawline and the sensitive column of your neck. His hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you close enough to feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat.
You let him guide you back toward the edge of the bed. Your hands find the fabric of his shirt, helping him ease it off his shoulders until it pool on the carpet beside your dress. He gently coaxes you down onto the mattress, hovering over you as you map the line of his bare chest, your fingers gripping his biceps when his hand slides slowly, deliberately between your thighs. A soft, breathless moan escapes your throat.
"Ilia," you whisper his name. It feels like a plea, a quiet prayer, as a sweet, familiar heat begins to bloom in your stomach, igniting your skin everywhere he touches. "I've never done this before."
He pauses, his fingers stilling against you. His chest heaves up and down, matching the shallow, uneven rhythm of your own breath. He looks down at you, searching your face, gently brushing a stray lock of hair away from your forehead. There is an intensity in his blue eyes, a sudden, protective softness that makes the breath catch in your throat.
"Do you want to?" he asks softly, giving you space, making sure you feel entirely safe.
You look up at him, feeling more exposed and entirely perceived than you ever have before. But looking at the tenderness in his face, the fear melts away, leaving only a certainty.
"Yes," you whisper, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to you. "With you."
A wide smile stretches across his face just before he leans in to kiss you again—much fiercer this time. He sweeps his tongue over yours, catching the breathless whimper that escapes your throat as his hands slide down your hips, hooking into the sides of your underwear and smoothing them down your legs. Your back arches against the mattress, your body reacting instantly to the direct, steady circle of his thumb. This time, you don't even try to hold back. You don’t smother the sounds or slap a hand over your mouth to hide them. Instead, you let him hear everything, shamelessly whispering his name against his lips as you wrap your bare legs tightly around his waist.
When the overwhelming peak finally washes over you, bringing tears of pure release to your eyes, he leans down to kiss them dry. He pulls back just enough to strip off his pants, and through your smudged mascara, you look up at him. Seeing his bare silhouette in the soft lamp light makes your chest tighten with a sudden ache. Biting your lower lip in quiet anticipation, you part your legs, welcoming him closer.
He settles between your thighs, tearing the small, square foil package open with his teeth. You watch him with quiet, curious eyes as he rolls on the condom. You swallow hard, trying to force your muscles to relax against the pillows, but your eyes drift to the ceiling as a sudden rush of nervous heat sets your veins on fire.
"Hey."
Sensing the sudden shift in your posture, Ilia gently traces his fingers along your jawline, coaxing your gaze back to his. His expression is calm and patient—a quiet anchor in the middle of all your thoughts.
"We don't have to do this if you're not ready," he promises softly. "It's okay."
"No, I am," you insist, shaking your head to clear the lingering doubt.
To prove it to him—and to yourself—you cup his face in your hands, pulling him down to press a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. Under the softness of his touch, any trace of anxiety washes away. You let him take a piece of you, giving yourself over to him completely. He is gentle with you, so careful and sweet, and it's everything you had ever wanted—everything you had spent years secretly dreaming of.
"So, does MJ get her memories back?"
"Do you want me to spoil the movie for you?" You raise an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you look at Liza.
She is ecstatic to hear all about the premiere, making you recount every single detail over again even though you’ve already talked to her on the phone about it. Tatyana observes the scene with an amused expression, chopping chocolate for the cake Ilia has been requesting ever since before you two even got back. He is sitting at the table with you and Liza, but unlike you, he’s having a late breakfast after sleeping in, while you help his little sister bedazzle her figurines.
"I guess not," Liza says after a while, thoroughly contemplating the spoiler with a focused look on her face. "Was it better than No Way Home?"
"I mean... I was too excited when I watched it, so I don't think I can fairly criticize it without a rewatch."
"Fair enough."
"Aren't you guys gonna ask me for my opinion?" Ilia asks between bites, his voice muffled. All you can stare at is the smear of jam stuck to the corner of his lips. The sudden desire to reach over and wipe it clean off him—in a way that is not at all appropriate for the family kitchen—is almost ridiculous. "I was there too, you know."
"Do you even have enough vocabulary to analyze a movie?" Liza asks.
"Liza," Tatyana warns, shooting her a look to behave, even though she is desperately trying not to laugh. "What did we talk about?"
"Sure, Mom. I won't make fun of your loser son."
"This 'loser' attended a major movie premiere and you didn't," Ilia points out.
"Wait till I grow up," she bites back, an annoyed expression plastered on her face as she glares at her brother.
"I don't know what I did to deserve such a bratty attitude."
"It's a universal experience," you jump in, less to defend Liza and more to tease him. "Jace goes through the same thing every day. It's kind of like our job."
"I don't remember you being this mean when you were twelve."
"Well, I wasn't mean to you."
"Wonder why," Tatyana notes, amusement dripping from her voice.
You groan at her comment, burying your face in your hands in sheer embarrassment because you know exactly where this is going.
"I remember once you asked me what Ilia's favorite color was," Tanya continues, highly pleased with herself. "And then you made your dad buy you a dress in that exact color for the first day back to school. I think it was your second or third year?"
"Tanya, please stop."
Ilia is the only one laughing, a smirk tugging at his lips as his eyes lock onto yours. Liza rolls her eyes as if the story has personally offended her, huffing when she accidentally picks up the wrong color rhinestone.
You help Tanya decorate the cake while Ilia watches in silence, cradling Mila in his arms. Later, Jace comes over because it's a sweet occasion his appetite can't possibly miss. Once Tanya and Liza leave for practice, you’re stuck with the boys, finishing up the bedazzled F1 car figure Liza left for you to complete, trusting you with the fine details she doesn't quite trust herself with yet.
"Dude, did you see Jake Gyllenhaal?" Jace asks.
"Nope, he wasn't there."
"Aw, man. That's a shame," Jace sighs in disappointment, drumming his fingertips against the wooden table. "How was London, anyway? I didn't have time to properly chat with you two."
"Yeah, everything was great," you reply, keeping your eyes fixed on the tiny Ferrari logo. "Except the English breakfast, of course."
"I dunno, I liked it," Ilia shrugs.
"Well, you only ate the bacon, eggs, and tomatoes, Ilia."
"Did he keep you awake?"
Your head snaps up, glaring at Jace with a confused expression as a sudden jolt of panic surges through you. You don't dare look at Ilia, but you see his fork freeze halfway to his mouth. Jace notices your raised eyebrows and quickly offers a cover-up.
"Sometimes he snores so loudly."
"Literally, you're the one who snores," Ilia huffs, recovering quickly. "It's definitely not me."
"No, he doesn't snore," you agree, keeping your voice carefully casual. "I fear that's you, Jace."
"Well, then I don't see any other reason why you wouldn't enjoy the trip."
"Yep. I enjoyed everything... a lot."
To get a reaction out of him, you put a deliberate, slow emphasis on the last words, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. Only you and he know the heavy implication behind them. But his timing is horrible. Just as the words leave your mouth, he takes a sip of his juice and immediately chokes. His eyes widen, a fit of coughing overtaking him as Jace cluelessly pats him on the back, completely oblivious to what actually provoked the reaction.
Jace is about to say something, but his phone buzzes, and he’s immediately on his feet to take the call in the other room.
The moment the kitchen door swings shut, you let out a laugh. You reach across the table to fix his hair, offering him a playful, apologetic stroke of your fingers.
"You're cruel," he mutters.
"I'm sorry," you giggle, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to his cheek. "You should've seen your face. Thank god Jace wasn't looking at you."
"You know, I was thinking about it..." he starts, his expression turning serious, careful, as if he's trying to gauge your reaction. "I think it's time to tell him."
You don't reply immediately, a sudden wave of anxiety washing over you at the thought of what's to come once Jace finds out. He notices the instant shift in your mood, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand between his. His palms are warm, grounding.
"We can't keep hiding forever," he mumbles, looking at you with absolute certainty. "It's not fair to us. He's going to go a bit mental whenever he finds out, so we might as well save ourselves the time."
"He's going to hate you."
"I know."
"For a few weeks," a soft smile touches your lips, though it carries a trace of sadness. "But eventually, he'll understand... he has to."
"I'll tell him the second I get back from New York," he promises, lacing his fingers securely through yours. "He can rage at me all he wants. I don't want to hide you anymore."
"I don't want to either."
He leans in, stealing a quick, lingering kiss just before Jace walks back into the kitchen, resuming his conversation, completely oblivious to the shift that had occurred in his absence.
A few days later, Ilia sets off for the Sun Valley show, planned to travel directly to New York afterward for his magazine afterparty and the Time 100 Sports Gala. You patiently wait for him to return, your chest bubbling with a restless mixture of excitement and terror for the moment the truth finally comes to light.
"Pass."
"Bitch, how?" Allie rolls her eyes at you, personally offended that the attraction to the celebrity guy she's currently thirsting over isn't mutual. You simply shrug. "He is, like, so hot."
"Not to me."
"Why? Because he doesn't look like a twink who dyes his hair?"
"Oh, you cunt!" You tug at her wavy hair, slapping her hand away when she tries to do the exact same to yours.
Playing 'smash or pass' with Allie is a fun way to kill time—as long as you agree with her. The second you don't, she makes sure to drag Ilia into it, teasingly referring to him as either a low-testosterone man or a twink. You always roll your eyes, knowing she’s only jesting, but you still defend your ground. "Says the girl who is exclusively into alpha males."
"I am not!"
"Sure."
You give her a mocking smile. She opens her mouth to argue, but the soft chime of the front door bell interrupts her. Giving you one last annoyed look, Allie disappears into the kitchen, leaving you alone to take the order.
With a customer-ready smile already plastered onto your face, you turn toward the counter. But it falters for a fraction of a second when your eyes lock with hers.
"Hey!" Macy says your name, leaning over the counter to pull you into a brief side-hug.
You return it, giving her a tight smile. She is a sweetheart and has never actually done anything to earn your dislike—even though, sometimes, you desperately wish she would. Instead, you're just left with an unpleasant, heavy sinking in your stomach every time she walks into the cafe. Thankfully, it doesn't happen often, even though she lives just a few blocks away and this is technically her local spot.
It’s a bizarre, uncomfortable feeling to face the girl Ilia used to date for almost two years, especially now that you're secretly involved with him. You've hung out with her multiple times in the past because your friend groups forced it, and even though you two were never close and you don't owe her anything, it still feels like you’ve broken some unwritten girl code. It's a bitter, constant reminder that she once had the man you spent years quietly yearning for.
"Long time no see! How are you?" she asks warmly.
"I'm great, Macy." You smile, trying to sweep the ugly feeling aside. She really is beautiful, with her flawless porcelain skin and big, doe-like brown eyes. "Your new haircut looks great on you."
"Haha, thanks! I got bored and chopped it off myself a couple of days ago." She waves it off like it's nothing, even though her hair looks absolutely perfect and effortless—result you've never quite achieved even with the help of professionals. "Guess who missed the pistachio rolls?"
"Well, you arrived at the perfect time. They're fresh out of the oven."
You grab the bakery tongs, carefully choosing the fluffiest, most golden roll from the display. She watches with a smile as you place it into a cardboard box. "Would you like a flat white with that?"
"God, I wish," she sighs, burying her face in her hands. "But I'm trying to cut down on the caffeine. I've gone a bit off the rails lately."
"Haha, totally understandable."
"How's university going?" she asks after she pays, lingering at the counter. You find yourself wishing she would just take her box and go, but she keeps the conversation flowing. "You finished your first year, right?"
"Yep. Surprisingly, it went a lot smoother than I was prepared for."
"Of course it did, you're super smart," she says with a teasing nudge to your shoulder. "And how's Jace? I haven't seen him around in a while."
"He's a lot buffer than he used to be, but otherwise, he's exactly the same," you chuckle, rolling your eyes. "Annoying, I mean."
"I saw your photos at the Spider-Man premiere," Macy’s voice suddenly quietens, her tone shifting as if she is carefully navigating onto sensitive ice. "You must have been absolutely thrilled."
"Yeah," you smile, the memory of that magical night briefly warming you. "I really was."
"Good. You deserved it."
Macy hesitates for a second. You think she's finally about to leave, but she stays put, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the silver rings on her hand.
"How's, um… how's Ilia?"
"He's alright," you shrug, keeping your voice light and casual, desperately hiding the ugly twist of jealousy gnawing at your insides. "He's just preparing for the upcoming season."
"Of course he is," she chuckles softly, her eyes drifting to the floor.
There is a heavy pause. You get the distinct, terrifying feeling that she wants to say something she isn't quite sure she should. A cold trace of worry begins to spread through your veins.
"I actually saw him once since he came back from the tour," she says quietly.
The words land like lead, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in your mouth. Your heart starts thumping violently against your ribs, your jaw tightening as you force yourself to keep breathing.
A smile touches Macy's lips, filled with something that looks painfully like regret.
"We, um… we tried to fix things. But it didn't work." She shrugs, giving you a tight, melancholy look.
You want to reach across the counter and slap a hand over her mouth—anything to make her stop talking. But you just stand there, completely frozen, pouring every ounce of your energy into keeping your face entirely blank.
"He came over at night. I think we both just needed to see if the spark was still there. We spent the whole night talking… well, not just talking." she chuckles and something twists deep inside your chest, a breath knocking out of your lungs as you grip the chair behind the counter, your hands digging into the leather. "But by the morning, it was clear we’ve just grown too far apart. I'm glad we had that one last night, though. It was a nice way to finally close the chapter."
She lets out a soft sigh, finally looking up at you with those big, innocent brown eyes, completely unaware of the heavy, suffocating feeling pressing down on your chest. Macy doesn't seem to notice the way the air has left your lungs.
"Anyways, it was nice seeing you!" The easy enthusiasm slips right back into Macy's voice, and she grins. "I should get going before this roll gets cold!"
"Yeah," you barely manage to breathe out, fighting with everything you have to keep your voice from breaking. "Enjoy it, Macy."
"Bye!"
You wave her off, and the very second the door clicks shut behind her, the fragile mask shatters. You break down, your chest heaving violently as the realization crashes over you. Pressing a trembling palm to your chest, you gasp for air, tears instantly blurring your vision before streaming hot down your face.
"Oh my god, what happened?"
Allie’s face is a mask of pure horror when she bursts out of the kitchen. She immediately crouches down beside you, frantically trying to coax out what's wrong. You can't bring yourself to say a single word. Instead, you just weep into her arms, and she lets you, wrapping her arms tight around you and holding your head against her chest.
But the ticking clock reminds you that you’re still at work. Forcing yourself up on shaky legs, you head straight to the employee bathroom to freshen up. You slide the lock into place and lean against the sink, staring at your tear-stained, pale reflection in the mirror.
Hundreds of thoughts race through your mind, but one loops relentlessly. Her words. The nostalgia in her voice. The sad, knowing smile. The implication was as clear as day: He slept with her. After he got back from the tour. When he was supposed to be yours.
Your mind frantically scrambles backward, trying to piece the timeline together. The first night he came back, he had stayed over, waking you up in the middle of the night over those stupid blankets. The next day, he went out with Jace and the guys. They had played that humiliating game, and then they all stayed over.
And then it hits you.
Four pairs of sneakers on the floor the next morning. The lingering assumption that either he or Josh had left in the middle of the night. Did he leave that night to go to Macy's? The exact night he had brushed you off like a joke? Did he spend those hours wrapped around her while you wept yourself to sleep in your bedroom?
It would explain everything. The next afternoon, he had visited you at the cafe, casually claiming he was "just in the neighborhood." And Macy lives just blocks away. It drives you insane because everything makes sense—even when you desperately, frantically want it to be a lie.
With trembling, sweaty fingers, you pull out your phone. Through blurry vision, you open the home security app. Your dad had installed cameras covering the driveway and front porch years ago, always paranoid about safety. You’d only used the app a handful of times in high school, mostly to see if Jace was sneaking out.
Now, you scroll back through the archives, skipping past weeks of footage until you find the exact date. Your heart thumps violently against your ribs, a loud roar in your ears.
And then, you see it vividly. It isn't Josh, but Ilia.
The time stamp on the screen reads just after 3:00 AM. You watch his familiar silhouette quietly step out of the house, his movements cautious as he cuts across the grass toward the driveway to get into his car. To drive to her.
The truth settles into your bones like ice. He spent the night with her, and he only came running back to you after he realized he couldn't have her anymore. You were never his choice. You were just the safe, convenient second option he settled for because the girl he actually wanted wouldn't take him back.
You violently wipe your face dry, the devastating hurt suddenly giving way to a hot, burning anger that flares deep in your chest.
You spend the final hour of your shift in agonizing silence, refusing to say a word to Allie because you know if you speak, you will completely crumble. On the cycle ride back home, you can think of nothing but the two of them, twisting in the sheets together while you were crying in the dark.
When you finally push the front door open, the house is entirely silent. As expected, no one is home. There is no one there to witness your breakdown, and no one to pick up your pieces, promising you that everything will be fine.
summary: For as long as she can remember, it always started with him—the boy next door and her brother’s best friend. Over the years, an innocent childhood crush became a habit, a secret she got used to keeping to herself as she stayed stuck in the role of the nerdy little sister. Now that summer has arrived, things are finally beginning to melt under the heat—and it might just turn cruel.
word count: 7,5k
author’s note: it took me like 2 weeks, but it's finally here! english is not my first language, so I hope you keep that in mind! any feedback, questions, writing tips, and criticism will be greatly appreciated! this chapter contains sexual content, MDNI
You stare at the screen again, Cam's voice slowly fading into the background. She's on FaceTime with you, showing you two dresses she has as options for a last-minute wedding invitation. Originally, she had planned to decline, but your and Ziggy's points were convincing enough that she decided to put her gaming console aside for one night, opting instead to spend time with her relatives.
"Is it, like, too slutty for a wedding?"
"No, it's perfect."
"But the cut is low."
"Well, it's not like you have the boobs to fill it out."
"Bitch," she chuckles, throwing you a half-annoyed, half-offended look. She squints at the screen because she still hasn't picked up her new prescription glasses, being the procrastinator she is. "Are you still dwelling on Ilia's text?"
"What am I supposed to reply?!"
"Tell him you'll talk to him once your exams are over."
"My exams are over in, like, two weeks," you sigh, leaning back in your gaming chair as you shut your eyes tight for a few seconds. You feel entirely overwhelmed by the single text message you haven't opened since this morning. It's almost 5 p.m. now.
The truth is, you're not really ignoring him. Sure, maybe you ran away after he confessed to you and kissed you, but it's not like you've seen him since then or have been deliberately avoiding him. And it's only been two days. You're just not actively seeking to resolve whatever happened because the whole situation scares you even more than the reality excites you. The embarrassment still lingers every time you relive those few seconds when you tugged the door handle and ran away as he called out your name.
"Why are you so uptight about this whole thing? It's Ilia."
"Yes, exactly!" you huff, rolling your eyes. Explaining something to your best friend is hard, especially when you don't even understand it yourself. "He kissed me and I ran away like an idiot!"
"And now you're acting like a bigger idiot because you keep ignoring him."
"I mean, I'm not exactly ignoring him."
"Oh, shut up," she exhales, throwing you a dirty look before she puts the black dress away in the closet, presumably brushing aside your opinion that it looks appropriate for a wedding. "Tell him you needed time to think and you'll talk to him soon."
"When is soon?"
"Honestly, I'm running out of patience with you."
"Alright, alright," you admit in a defeated voice, straightening your spine as if it somehow gives you the confidence you desperately need. "I'll figure something out."
"Yes, like you always do."
"But this is, like, an exceptional case."
"Are you going to keep ranting about that Russian boy, or will you help me finish my wedding look?"
You nod, leaning forward so you can see the jewelry options she's showing you. You try to bite back the comment that all of them are ugly—but you do, because it fits Cam's style perfectly and you are a good friend.
The call with her ends approximately twenty minutes later. You find yourself spinning in your gaming chair, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you type out several responses before aggressively hitting the delete button, never satisfied with the outcome. Eventually, you stop and ask yourself if it's really that serious. The next second, you've sent a message before fully thinking it through. Your heartbeat quickens just enough when you see that he has read it almost immediately.
You: I'm sorry. I know we need to talk.
Ilia: Are you home?
You: I'm kind of in the middle of something.
You panic when he doesn't respond. Your eyes widen as you realize he hasn't even opened your last message, meaning he's probably already on his way over. Cursing under your breath, you leap up from the chair. You frantically look around the room to find something to put on instead of your washed-out t-shirt, which has holes in the collar thanks to your habit of chewing on it whenever you're bored. A dark blue t-shirt that you snubbed from Jace's room at some point is in much better condition, complementing a pair of gray shorts that were also his before puberty fully had its impact on him.
The doorbell rings just as you're sprinting down the stairs. He knows your dad is still at work, and he also knows that Jace hits the gym around this time every Tuesday. There's not really a reason for him to hide or hold back, meaning you're forced to have this conversation even if you're not fully prepared for it. Maybe it's better this way, before you start overthinking and potentially ruining something that hasn't even started yet.
"Hi."
You give him a somewhat shy smile, stepping aside to silently welcome him in. He eyes you for a second, opening his mouth slightly as if he's about to say something, but ultimately decides against it. He's wearing one of the many Toothless t-shirts he owns, his shorts hugging him perfectly. You subtly eye him as he steps inside, wondering when exactly his glutes managed to grow like that.
"What are you up to?"
"Um… just the usual stuff," you shrug, heat rushing to your face despite trying so hard to sound casual. It's almost like you've completely forgotten how to talk to him.
He gives you an expectant look, the kind that encourages you to start talking, but the silence hangs heavy in the room. Your palms seem to grow sweaty, so you hide them at your sides as if they are the sole thing giving away your uneasiness and not the panicked expression plastered on your face.
"Can we just talk?" he asks abruptly, as if he's finally had enough of the awkwardness. He sighs, looking at you with slightly raised eyebrows—an expression you know well from when he's feeling sorry or worried about something. You shift uncomfortably, pressing your lips together as he continues. "It's me. Things don't have to be awkward."
"I know."
"Then why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not," you exhale, resisting the urge to bury your face in your hands. Looking him straight in the eye is deeply embarrassing, especially when he shakes his head, his gaze hardening. "I'm just…"
"You're just what?" he presses, vaguely gesturing with his hands. "Look, I understand if you needed time to think, and I wanted to give you space, but you haven't talked to me in almost three days. You ran away after I kissed you. I just… I don't know what to think."
"I know it was a stupid thing to do."
"Are you still mad at me?"
The question takes you aback. You pause when his voice comes out quieter. The answer doesn't come easily because you haven't actually thought about it. All you could think about these past few days was the fact that Ilia kissed you, and that he actually liked you back—just as you had always wished he would.
"No," you reply after a while, concluding that you don't feel an ounce of the rage you felt a few days ago. "I ran away because I was confused and… scared. I'm just stupid."
"You're not." He shakes his head and steps forward, gently pushing your blue-light glasses back up after they had slid down your nose. You only wear them because of your dad's insistence; he always uses the excuse of being a doctor who "knows better" when he forces you and your brother to do things you don't really want to do.
"Usually I'm not, no, but running away that night was one of the most embarrassing things I've ever done."
"It doesn't top the talent show you did back in middle school."
"Oh, shut up," you groan at the memory, avoiding his gaze as he lets out a laugh. He tugs at your arm, pulling you toward him. It's as if the heavy tension completely breaks with the solo memory, a stark reminder that this is Ilia—the guy you grew up with, the boy you never need to shy away from. He stares down at you with a soft expression, fixing the pieces of hair that messily frame your face. "You weren't so great at that talent show either."
"I got first place."
"Just because you sucked less than the other kids doesn't mean you didn't suck."
The corner of his lip lifts, a smile stretching across his face as his voice loses its teasing edge. "As much as I enjoy this conversation, can we go back to where we started?"
"You like embarrassing me, don't you?"
"No, I just want to establish the fact that I like you," he repeats, more confident this time. His eyes search yours while you stare at him quietly, your chest tightening at the words that make you dizzy. They still feel unfamiliar, but you could easily get used to them. "And I'm sorry for being a coward and not sticking up for us when it mattered. I was a jerk that night."
"It hurt. A lot."
"I know."
"I've spent the last few years having a massive crush on you," you admit openly, your heart hammering against your ribs. Something twists in your stomach as you hold back, choosing not to tell him that your feelings are actually much greater than a silly crush. It's too soon, you tell yourself, clinging to the excuse. "And hearing you say that… it just destroyed me. You brushed me off like I was just Jace's annoying little sister you're forced to tolerate… And then you just confessed out of the blue when I was so mad at you, and I just…" You can't even finish the sentence, unable to find the words for what you felt in that moment. "It was a lot to take in."
"I'm sorry. I hate myself for how I handled that," he says, his voice apologetic. He reaches down, gently taking your hands in his, forcing you to look up at him. "The second Jack brought you up, I panicked. He kind of already knew, and I was afraid he would see right through me. And if Jack found out, Jace would find out."
The image of your brother flashes across your mind. He loves Ilia; there's no doubt that in any world, he would consider his best friend worthy of you, but you also know him well enough to know he won't be happy about this. Both you and Ilia know that if Jace finds out, things are going to get ugly.
"I took the easy way out because I was terrified," Ilia confesses, his blue eyes sincere, pleading with you to understand. "I was terrified of how messy things would get if they found out how I actually felt about you."
"Jace won't approve."
"I know."
You exhale, your shoulders dropping, heavy with a secret that already feels like a burden. He lets go of your hands only to cup the side of your face, his fingers sliding into your hair. "Look at me."
You look up, meeting the intense blue of his eyes.
"I've felt this way about you for a while, and I always tried to tell myself it was wrong," he says softly, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. "Yeah, maybe I'm not supposed to have feelings for my best friend's sister because of some unwritten moral code, but it's not wrong. It doesn't feel wrong anymore. The whole time I was on tour, I missed home terribly, and then I realized it was you I was homesick for."
The honesty in his voice completely undoes you, stripping away the last string of your hesitation. Suddenly, you find yourself leaning in, sneaking your arms around his back and burying your face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent. His response is immediate. He pulls you tighter against him, rubbing your back affectionately and pressing a light kiss into your hair.
You don't know how much time passes before he gently lifts your head up, caressing your jaw with his palm. His blue eyes sweep over your face, his thumb eventually coming to rest on your bottom lip.
"Can I kiss you?"
"It's not like you asked the first time, either."
He grins, leaning in and pressing his lips against yours. Closing your eyes, you sigh into the touch. His mouth is warm against yours, his hands roaming over your back as they clutch your t-shirt. Your hand flies into his hair, the short strands soft between your fingertips as you gently tug at them. You only pull back when you're left breathless, your chest heaving up and down just like his. A smile breaks across his face.
"By the way," his voice turns teasing, his fingertip tracing a slow line up your arm. "You're wearing my t-shirt."
"What?" Your brows furrow, genuine confusion making your lips pout.
"Yeah. Jace ended up borrowing it a while ago, but he never gave it back."
"Well, I'm not giving it back either."
"Good," he smiles, his eyes almost shining. "I don't want you to."
You grin at him, intertwining your fingers with his—at first shyly, then gripping him tightly, leading him up to your room to show him the new Lego set you've built before Jace comes back.
Neither of you talk about it, neither of you openly discuss it, but you quickly slip into a routine.
His texts come in every morning and night, the day never ending without late-night conversations with him, your friends teasing you that you have temporarily replaced them. He gives you rides to the university—half the time you secretly slide into the passenger seat, and the other half of the time you casually mention to Jace that you two happen to have the same schedule. Your brother doesn't think anything of it, you're sure, casually waving you off before his stare fixes back on the computer screen.
On the rare occasions that you're free from studying and working and the house is empty for you to use as you please, he comes over. You watch movies, play games, cook pasta for him, and teach him how to play Sudoku. He brings you your favorite snacks and you cuddle on the couch, always glancing at the clock to make sure you don't get caught. Sometimes it's hard, pretending nothing exists between you two except a platonic relationship, and perhaps there's no reason to wait anymore, because Jace will rage at both of you anyways—but still, neither of you speak about it. Perhaps you like the thrill of sneaking around behind everyone's back. Perhaps, despite how much you don't want to admit it out loud, the idea of things getting real scares you both.
"Come on, just one more lap."
"I can't!"
"Stop whining."
Jace exhales, nudging you to continue running while your chest heaves up and down, your whole body sweaty as you try to fight off your legs from giving up. You watch him run ahead of you, wiping the sweat from your forehead before you straighten your spine, jogging after him in a way less energetic way.
Jace thinks of himself as a caring brother, which is why he has decided to take care of your physical health, forcing you to run with him almost every day and feeding you the protein smoothies he enthusiastically makes every morning. You're doing laps around the neighborhood, having just passed your house, when you see Jace stopping. You squint your eyes to confirm that the blonde talking to him is Ilia.
"Hey."
"Hi," you wave at him, still breathless. His face is completely relaxed, unlike yours, a smile plastered across it. You're wearing nothing special—just shorts and a sports bra—but his gaze still shifts, subtly eyeing you before he fixes his stare back on Jace. He's wearing Snoopy pants and a plain white t-shirt, making it evident that he just rolled out of bed, holding some letters in his hand. Tatyana must have sent him out to collect the mail.
"You should run with us," Jace tells him, nudging him on the shoulder. Then he gestures toward you, pointing a finger. "I have to keep this one in shape, and I need help because she's awful company."
"Oh, shut up."
"You've been whining for the whole run!" he insists, throwing you an annoyed look while Ilia witnesses the sibling interaction with an amused expression. "No, ever since this morning, before we even started running."
"Because instead of helping me gradually build stamina, you just force me to run for over an hour and I'm exhausted!" you argue, looking over at Ilia so he can prove your point. "You're an athlete. Tell him that he's an awful instructor."
"I fear she's right, Jace."
"What's up with you always agreeing with her lately?" Jace rolls his eyes, throwing him a dirty look. The smile washes off your face, but he doesn't notice it. He doesn't notice either when Ilia nervously shifts, his smile turning awkward. "You're supposed to be my best friend."
"It's not like you own him."
"I own him more than you do."
Jace winks at you, convinced that he's made a point, while you bite down on your tongue before you regret the next words escaping your throat. Ilia must notice that Jace's words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, because he swiftly changes the topic, talking about their next hangout as you look at your watch, contemplating that you should just go home.
"I'm streaming this afternoon."
"What are you going to play?"
"Probably Fortnite again."
"Bro, people are tired of watching you play that shit," Jace groans, his dislike of Fortnite shining through. It's a topic he and Ilia still haven't agreed upon after all these years. "Even Geometry Dash is more entertaining."
"I was going to play FIFA with Jacob, but he ditched me for practice," Ilia sighs, and even though your eyes are fixed on your phone screen, you can feel him subtly glancing at you. "I asked your sister to accompany me, but she turned me down… playing Valorant would be fun."
Feeling both of them burning their stares through your skull, you lift your head up, shrugging as you purse your lips. "I don't really want to engage with your crazy fangirls."
"People usually behave, and I have mods."
"Yeah sis, show him some generosity," Jace backs him up, to your surprise, your eyes squinting at his behavior, which seems suspicious. "Teach him how to play Valorant properly."
"I can absolutely play Valorant!"
"I said properly," Jace grins, slapping his back in what is supposed to be an affectionate way. Then he backs up a few steps, looking at you with determination as he motions for you to follow him. "Now come on, one last lap."
You throw Ilia a helpless look, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips as he mouths words you absolutely cannot decipher. Then you leave him there, jogging after Jace as you glance behind your shoulder every few seconds, only to find him staring right back at you.
You: NO
Ilia: Come ooon
Ilia: It's gonna be Fun
Ilia: I want to stream with you
Ilia: Please :(
You stare at the screen, then back to the clock, contemplating whether you're ready to give in and accept his invitation or not. Occasionally streaming with Ziggy and Cam is fun because the chat is chill, and mostly the conversation is just about Valorant or other games you play together. But even from just watching bits of Ilia's stream a handful of times, you know his is drastically different. You know you'll probably get dragged online for no reason, because some fans can just be that crazy.
Maybe you just don't have the heart to turn him down, or maybe a secret, deep part of you wants to remind others of your existence and your place in his life. It sounds stupid, but when another text comes through—this time a picture of him making a pouty face—you find yourself smiling. You agree without giving it any further thought.
Jace helps you set up the camera, removing a few plushies from your bed because he insists they leave a "loser impression" of you. He takes Dusty too, with the excuse that she might be frightened by the loud noises you and Ilia will probably make, but really he just wants to cuddle her.
"You're all set up!" he exclaims with unusual enthusiasm, patting you on the back as he leans in to wipe the lens once again. "Destroy his ass."
"Why are you so excited about this?"
"Because you're a good gamer and I want people to appreciate you."
"Are you soft-launching that you want me to become a full-time Twitch streamer?" You squint your eyes at him, an almost disgusted expression plastered on your face.
"Nah, you donut, you're way too intelligent to be a Twitch streamer," he ruffles your hair, earning a sharp slap on the arm in exchange. He backs off toward the door, clutching Dusty in his hands while she looks at you with a helpless expression. He's about to walk out when he stops, whipping his head around as he squints at the t-shirt you're wearing. "You stealer, that's mine."
"Start learning how to do your laundry, maybe then you won't lose your clothes," you grin at him, completely omitting the fact that it isn't his shirt at all, but Ilia's. "Okay, go now, Ilia is calling."
"Alright."
He disappears, the door softly clicking shut behind him. It takes you and Ilia approximately five minutes to figure everything out, him ceaselessly reminding you that it's nothing to worry about even though you aren't showing an ounce of uneasiness. You're not so bad at pretending.
"Okay, I'll start the stream in a minute."
"Alright."
"You should start streaming, and then I'll send you an invite you can accept."
"I know how this stuff works," you laugh out loud, rolling your eyes at him while he stares back at you with a wide smile. "You should clean the mess behind you before they start making fun of you for having a messy room again."
"Literally, what am I supposed to do with these?" he gestures helplessly behind himself. "It's a mountain of plushies!"
"And a half-ass made bed, along with empty chocolate wrappers on the nightstand."
"Okay, stop judging me!" he huffs, giving you a pouty look. "Do you want to do a shared chat?"
"Sure, it's not like people will be watching my stream anyway."
"No, I'm sure they will." He says it with a determination that amuses you, but you don't argue.
You try to recall the last time you did this—not streaming on Twitch in general, but doing it with him. It was back in 2023, when he was supposed to play with Jace. Since your brother caught a cold, you were summoned to sub in for him. It lasted maybe an hour before Ilia got bored. Jace joked that he ended the stream early because you beat him at every single game.
The moment you go live, you have three viewers: your best friends Ziggy and Cam, and another online friend you sometimes play with. They immediately flood the chat, the inside jokes never ceasing until you tell them to keep their mouths shut. Ilia sends you the invite soon after, and then his face pops up on your screen. His chat starts flooding in, and your throat goes dry for a second before you manage to smile, your voice coming out softer than usual.
"Hi."
The all-caps messages quickly catch your eye. Most of them are asking who you are, some of them already know, and a few are showing you love that takes you aback. Ilia quickly introduces you, a bitter taste lingering in your mouth when he refers to you as his friend—but it's fine. You both know it's not true. You shouldn't care about what outsiders believe.
"Why are you reloading? You had twenty-two bullets!"
"I forgot about it, okay?!" Ilia's voice comes through your headset, sounding slightly panicked.
You sigh, keeping your eyes locked on the screen. "Don't you dare peek."
But it's already too late. The second Ilia swings the corner, a shot rings out. You watch him drop right in front of you. You hear him groan, irritation seeping into your own voice. "I told you not to peek!"
"I thought I could get him," Ilia says, immediately trying to defend himself. "I had the angle."
"No, you had confidence. That's different," you note, a layer of smugness coating your voice. You peek at his webcam for a second to find him smiling. "You're so bad at this."
"Everyone starts somewhere!"
"Guys, even Liza plays better than him," you snort, leaning back against your seat as you watch your own agent die, surrendering the round to the opposite team so you can start another one with Ilia. So far, you've only won three times.
"Let's take a break for a while and answer some questions," Ilia announces, leaning close to his screen so he can read the comments. He squints until his face falls, a disappointed expression shooting in your direction. "Never mind. I shouldn't have."
You laugh, reading the comments that keep roasting him in contrast to praising you. He spends the next two minutes scanning the questions, trying to involve you, but mostly you keep to yourself. It's his stream, after all. And it's not like most of these people care about you.
"Someone's asking about our favorite superheroes," Ilia laughs like it's obvious, his gaze wandering behind you, looking at the Spiderman poster displayed on your wall. "I think yours is Batman, right?"
"Yes, either him or Quicksilver," you grin, going along with him, purposely sliding around in your chair so you can give them a better view of the poster. "I like lots of superheroes, with a few exceptions. Spider-Man is, like, so overrated."
"Yeah, totally."
"I feel like it's one of those superheroes targeted specifically for a children's audience."
"Yes," he says, a subtle smile tugging at his lips before he bursts out laughing. "I think we can play FNAF next, yeah."
"Oh my god, I love FNAF," your voice immediately gets excited. Leaning toward the screen, your eyes practically sparkle under the dim lights as you scan the comments. "Resident Evil too… Dead Space is definitely underrated, I agree… The last horror game I played, mhm, I think it was Soma."
"I have not played any of them."
"Sure you haven't," you snort at Ilia's comment, your eyes crinkling. "You get jump-scared all the time."
"I am gonna let that slide."
"Jace is working on a deadline, guys," you answer one of the comments, and the chat immediately floods with his name like they just remembered his existence. Then you squint at another message. "Oh my god, we do not look alike!"
"Who is she?" Ilia reads out loud. He spins around in his chair, a subtle smirk tugging at his lips when his eyes snap back to yours through the screen. "Jace's annoying little sister."
You laugh, not even slightly offended by it, because you know this time he doesn't mean it. You find yourself enjoying the secrecy you two share right in front of a chat of a few thousand people. Ilia proceeds to answer some questions regarding his training and skating, and then you two are just about to boot up Five Nights at Freddy's when a blur of motion cuts across your vision. Dusty comes sprinting across your keyboard, pausing for a second to look at the bright screen.
"Oh, hi Dusty," Ilia coos from the screen, his voice turning high-pitched just like when he talks to his cats. "That's her chinchilla, guys."
You scoop her up before she flees, gently pressing a kiss to her fur before you let her go. She immediately sprints down from your shoulder, jumps onto the bed, and settles somewhere behind the pillows.
"Ilia is scared of Dusty, guys."
"Stop spreading misinformation!" his voice rises in disbelief, shaking his head like he's deeply disappointed in you. "I'm not, guys. I love animals."
"Yo, what's up, bro?"
Suddenly, a loud noise breaks the flow as Jace comes into the frame, slapping his hands down on your shoulders. He makes you jolt, and you throw him an annoyed look through the lens.
"Hi, Jace."
"Hey, everyone," he waves at the camera, hovering over your chair as he looks at the chat, his smile wide and impossible. "Did my sister beat your ass?"
"I fear she did."
"Well, it's my turn then," he grins, motioning for you to get up. You look over your shoulder, giving him an offended look, but he completely ignores you. "I finished the deadline. Let me play with him, sis."
"We were about to play FNAF."
"Ilia sucks at that game."
"Bro, can't I just enjoy games?!" Ilia complains, shaking his head. "I don't have to be good at it."
"That's an excuse bad gamers use."
"My god, you're so annoying." You stand up from the chair, removing the headset and handing it to him because you know he won't leave you alone anyway.
A twinge of irritation sets in as he settles into your chair, seamlessly resuming the stream with Ilia as if you were just a temporary placeholder for him until he arrived. You know Jace doesn't have ill intentions, and he definitely doesn't realize the weight of what he's doing, but a sharp prickle of anger burns through you nonetheless. You close the door behind you and head down the stairs with an excuse of getting something to eat. He yells after you to make your signature pasta and leave some for him.
You ignore him. But when you get into the kitchen and start prepping the sauce while the water boils in the pot, you find yourself rationing enough for more than just yourself.
Your phone buzzes on the counter.
Ilia: Are you mad?
You almost roll your eyes at the question, but a smile still tugs at your lips because he noticed, and he cares.
You: just a bit annoyed
Ilia: I'm sorry
You: it's fine, it's not your fault
Ilia: He just invited me over For a Movie night
You: should I make pasta for 3?
Ilia: Yes please
You grin at the messages, locking your phone away and setting it on the table. He hasn't slept over since that night, and the thought of him staying in the room right next to yours while Jace sleeps dead to the world leaves you both excited and nervous.
Ilia arrives shortly after they end the stream. The pasta is ready, and the three of you eat at the table, no longer waiting for your dad because he decided to get drinks with his friends and called to say he might crash at a friend's place tonight in Washington—which means he definitely isn't coming home.
"What's up with him always staying somewhere else lately?" Jace asks, giving you a weirded-out expression as he shrugs his shoulders. "He has conferences, like, every two weeks."
You stop eating, briefly sharing a glance with Ilia to see that he confirms your thoughts. You straighten your spine, wiping your mouth with a napkin as you pause, unsure of how to strike up a conversation about it.
"Jace…"
"What?"
"You really think he's traveling for medical conferences?" You raise an eyebrow, trying so hard not to make him feel stupid, but failing anyway.
"What do you mean?" He furrows his eyebrows, looking at you first before his eyes lock back onto Ilia, who stays silent, letting the two of you settle it. "Where else would he be going?"
"Jace, he's seeing someone."
"What?" He snorts, rolling his eyes like you've said something impossible. Maybe it isn't supposed to, but it makes a spark of anger ignite within you. "Come on."
"Why is that so funny to you?"
"Because it's dad we're talking about."
"So?!"
"Why would he be sneaking around behind our backs?" he asks, looking at you in confusion. While you don't have a definitive answer to that question, you still can't believe he hasn't realized it until now. "He's an adult."
"I don't know, but do you seriously think he attends all these medical conferences and goes out to grab a drink with Dale every week with an excuse not to come home at night?" You roll your eyes, huffing at how stupid it sounds. "It's clear that he's seeing someone. I don't know why he feels the need to hide it from us, and I'm not going to bring it up until he does, but I thought you knew about it and we just didn't discuss it."
"Yeah, I haven't really thought about my dad sneaking behind my back like a teenager," his voice turns frustrated, something bitter laced in his tone.
He resumes eating, your eyes snapping back to your plate as you feel Ilia squeezing your hand under the table. Abruptly, Jace drops his fork, the clinking noise loud against his empty bowl. "I don't understand why he would hide it! It's not like we're children and we'd get mad or something!"
"I don't know, Jace."
"So, Dad is having a secret relationship behind our backs," he snorts, repeating the words like he's trying to let the information sink in. He leans across the chair, squinting his eyes as he looks at you for a second. Panic almost settles into your body because you can't quite decipher his expression. "Are you, by any chance, too?"
You roll your eyes, shrugging off his question as a joke. Thankfully, he doesn't dwell on it, and most likely, he doesn't notice the quick glances you and Ilia share with each other either.
Since you usually don't tag along with them when Ilia comes over and the movie Jace chose is boring to you, you go upstairs to your room, finishing the book you started a few days ago before you play with Cam and Ziggy for a while. You barely get a chance to talk to Ilia, and it only happens when you go downstairs for a snack while Jace is in the restroom.
"Streaming was fun," he murmurs, leaning against the counter while you cut up some fruit. You give him a piece of peach, which he takes without hesitation. "We should do it again."
"Maybe."
"Don't tell me you didn't enjoy it."
"I did, before Jace crashed it."
He sighs, giving you a pouty look as he leans in, quickly pressing his lips to yours, letting you taste the sweetness on his lips. You smile through the kiss, fixing his hair that's been growing out steadily over the past few weeks. A part of you wants to beg Tatyana to cut it again.
"Are you going to sleep?"
"It's not even 11 p.m. yet."
"Would you, um… would you like a cuddle buddy afterward?" he asks almost shyly, your heart on the verge of bursting at how adorable he is. His blue eyes sweep over your face, his cheeks flushed with heat.
"Are you asking for permission to sneak into my room?"
"Respectfully."
"Then you have it."
You reciprocate his grin, leaning in one more time to kiss him again before you hear Jace's heavy footsteps on the stairs.
They stay up way past midnight, both of them entirely engaged in their game, not even noticing you when you go down to get a glass of water and slip right past them.
It's way past 3 a.m. when you lock your phone and put it aside, Ziggy finally recalling that he has to wake up early tomorrow for his fencing practice. It keeps raining, the drops hitting against the window making a pleasant sound to fall asleep to, but you keep tossing in your sheets, unable to find a comfortable position.
Your eyes are shut tight when you slowly feel drowsiness wash over you, and just as you're about to drift off, you're snapped back to wakefulness. The floor creaks, the footsteps light as he quietly closes the door behind him. You keep your eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you feel the mattress dip down. He carefully climbs under the blanket, the weight of his legs subtly pressing against yours. You feel him shift closer, slowly circling an arm around your waist as he leans down and presses a light kiss to your cheekbone. You can't contain the smile that breaks across your face when he tucks his chin over your shoulder, his breath fanning over your neck.
"I know you're awake," he murmurs, his voice sending shivers down your spine.
Switching sides to face him under the moonlight that spills into the room, you make out his nose and blue eyes, his grip tightening around your waist. Throwing your leg over his waist to chase his warmth, you snuggle deep into his chest, a content hum escaping your throat as his familiar scent floods your nostrils.
"I couldn't sleep," he whispers, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I thought you were long asleep but I'm pretty sure I heard you giggling, like, fifteen minutes ago."
"Yeah, Ziggy said something stupid," you smile, a chuckle escaping your throat at the memory. Sliding your hand under his t-shirt because his warmth is comfortable against your skin, you trace lines on his back, wishing you could somehow close the distance that doesn't exist between you two anymore—wishing you could completely let him swallow you in. "You can't fall asleep here."
"Just let me stay for a little bit," he mumbles. "I'll sneak out early."
"Mhm."
The silence, the soft sound of the rain, and the warmth of his body against you feels just right, leaving you ready to let sleep consume you. But then, you notice his body suddenly stiffen. His breathing hitches. He stops moving completely, freezing like a statue against you. Before you can even ask what’s wrong, you feel the hardness pressing against your thin shorts, your eyes slowly opening as the realization sinks in.
"Oh, fuck," he murmurs, gently pushing you away, untangling his legs from yours and rolling onto his back. He groans, covering his face with his arm, refusing to look you in the eye. "Shit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I mean, fuck, I'm sorry."
"Hey, it's fine."
"No, it's not," he insists, clearly unable to let the initial embarrassment go. "We were having this sweet moment and I got a boner like a schoolboy."
"I mean, I'm honored."
He huffs, a breathless chuckle escaping your own throat at his stubbornness. You glance toward the closed door, your pulse picking up just enough for you to feel the heat radiating from your body. Licking your lips, you glance back at him, sprawled on his back, still refusing to look at you. You stretch out your hand, gently touching his arm. "Do you, um… do you want me to help?"
Ilia drops his arm from his face, his blue eyes widening. He looks at you like he can't quite process what you just said. "What?"
"I mean…" You shift a little closer, your voice dropping to an absolute whisper, shy as you feel your face burn with heat. "Jace is right down the hall. We can't do it. But I can… you know."
He sits up, biting down on his lip as he stares at you. "You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"You don't have to, really—"
"Ilia," you stop him, pressing your palm against his mouth until his body relaxes. "I want to."
You remove your hand, leaving his mouth slightly agape as he stares up at you. Before you can overthink it, you nudge him back into a comfortable position, throwing your leg over his thigh to straddle him. Your fingers are almost trembling when you reach the waistband of his shorts, slipping your hand underneath to wrap your palm around him. The moment your hand makes contact with his burning skin, a low breath hitches in his throat. His mouth falls open, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.
"Ilia…" You lean in, your face so close to his that you can feel his hot breath on your skin. Your own body is slowly setting on fire, something twisting deep in your stomach as you feel your shorts getting damper. Brushing your lips against his ear, you whisper, "You have to be quiet."
"I am trying," his voice is weak, so soft that it makes your chest tighten. "It’s just… you’re really warm."
You take his hand, placing it on top of yours where it's wrapped around him, silently asking him to guide you. With pure instinct and the direction of his trembling hand against yours, you begin to move, the rhythm clumsy at first before you adjust to the unfamiliar feeling. The moment you find a steady pace, his eyes flutter shut.
"Like that?" you whisper, your face burning as you watch him completely unravel under your touch.
"Yeah," he chokes out, his other hand digging into your hip. "Exactly like that. Just… don't stop."
His head rolls back against the bedframe, his chest heaving up and down in shallow, ragged breaths. His hand falls away to his side, letting you fully take control. The sight of him is enough to make your mouth water, your own breath uneven as you pick up the rhythm.
He lets out a soft whimper, the stillness of the room pierced by the sudden rise in his voice. You lean in to kiss him, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth to keep him quiet. You continue moving your hand up and down, feeling his hips subtly shift against your palm. As you swirl your tongue over his, he abruptly pulls back, his mouth glistening in the dark.
"Wait," he mutters suddenly, his eyes snapping open. His gaze looks almost drunken in the moonlight. He grips your wrist, slowing you down for a fraction of a second. "Hold on, I don't want to—"
"It's okay," you whisper fiercely against his cheek, leaning your weight into him to keep him right there, refusing to let him pull away.
He lets out a defeated, ragged sigh, his fingers locking tightly between yours as you guide him through the final moments. His entire body goes rigid, a tremor running straight through his muscles as he buries his face deeply into the crook of your neck, smothering a heavy groan right against your skin.
For a minute, he stays just like that, the ragged sound of his breathing slowly quietening down. Gradually, the tension in his body drains away, leaving him completely relaxed against you. He pulls his hand back, his face still half-buried in your shoulder as he lets out a long, exhausted breath.
"Wow," he murmurs, finally looking up at you. His hair is a total mess and his cheeks are flushed a deep red. A quiet, shy smile touches his lips. "That was… woah."
You let out a quiet, breathless laugh, reaching over to grab a tissue from your nightstand to clean your hand. As you're about to climb off him and slide back into the warmth of the bed, he stops you, keeping his grip on your waist tight so you don't move.
"You think I'm just gonna let you sleep after that?"
He leans in, his voice soft and his mouth warm against your skin as he places a gentle kiss on your neck. One of his hands slides up underneath your top, your eyes fluttering shut when he slowly trails his fingers to your breasts. A shiver runs down your spine, your breath hitching in your throat when he cups them with his palms. His fingertips brush across your hardened buds as you throw your head back, biting down on your lip so a moan doesn't escape your throat—because if it does, you know it'll be impossible to contain yourself.
You offer no resistance as he pulls the shirt over your head, his stare almost hungry. He gently nudges you down onto the mattress, hovering over you while he continues trailing kisses down your chest. The moment his mouth closes around your nipple, your back arches instantly. You bury your fingers into the bedsheets, gripping the fabric until your knuckles turn white to stifle the muffled gasp tearing from your throat. His hands slide down to your hips, removing your shorts in one smooth motion that leaves you entirely exposed to the cool air of the room.
When he dips his head between your legs, you open them for him in a welcoming way. The first touch of his tongue makes you slap a palm firmly over your mouth, your mind turning dizzy with the unfamiliar feeling that runs down your whole body, completely consuming it.
I watch ilia stream and I can’t get over how cute he is. What do you mean he just laughs like that? What do you mean he gets excited and jumps around in his room like that? He will be living in my pocket where I can always protect him from now on please and thank you.
summary: For as long as she can remember, it always started with him—the boy next door and her brother’s best friend. Over the years, an innocent childhood crush became a habit, a secret she got used to keeping to herself as she stayed stuck in the role of the nerdy little sister. Now that summer has arrived, things are finally beginning to melt under the heat—and it might just turn cruel.
word count: 6,5k
author’s note: and it’s the era of a new series! i’m a pathological liar because I said I was locking in for my exams, but the moment my first exam got rescheduled, I immediately locked in for the new series instead… i’ll try to keep things lighthearted and more entertaining, so expect less torture from me 🥰 english is not my first language, so I hope you keep that in mind! any feedback, questions, writing tips, and criticism will be greatly appreciated!
“Here you go, sir.” You place the green cup on the counter, smiling at the middle-aged customer who is taking his sweet time despite the line forming behind him. “Flat white with one sugar!”
He gives you a lazy smile, taking the cup and inhaling the fresh aroma of the coffee. The woman behind him is glaring at you like you’re the sole reason for the delayed service, before throwing another dirty look at Allie. Allie is currently preparing an online order, spreading pistachio cream onto buns and feeling absolutely no need to rush.
“Would you happen to have cinnamon by any chance?”
“Yes.” You nod, gesturing to the spice shakers laying on the counter, internally screaming at how stupid his question is. He takes off the cap and sprinkles the cinnamon over his coffee, not even slightly considerate of the people waiting. He stirs it with a small wooden stick and gives you another smile before finally leaving.
“Hi! What can I get you?”
“Double espresso.” Not even a please. Her expression is exhausted and annoyed, her arms tightly crossed over her chest.
“Would you like to drink it here, or should I put it in a takeaway cup?”
“I’ll drink here.”
“Would you like a water chaser with it?”
“Chaser is for Turkish coffee, not espresso,” she huffs, gesturing vaguely. “I’ll wait at the table.”
She disappears without giving you a second look. You exchange a glance with Allie, who remains completely unfazed. Unlike her, you’re still trying to get used to how rude people can be for no reason. You prepare the coffee and serve it to her with the biggest fake smile plastered on your face, silently judging her bangs, which do absolutely nothing to frame her face correctly.
The afternoon moves slowly. Allie slides down behind the counter to scroll on her phone while you take the chalk and cross yet another line off the board. For the fifth time today, someone has asked if you happen to have cinnamon by any chance—a question you always snort at internally. It’s pretty stupid, considering the cafe is literally called Cinnamon and your main products are cinnamon rolls.
“Would you happen to swap shifts with me tomorrow?” Allie asks, looking up at you through her curly bangs with an innocent face.
“I don’t even work tomorrow, Allie.”
“Well, don’t you want to cover an extra shift?” Her eyebrows wiggle. “You’ll be 120 bucks closer to your new computer.”
“That sounds tempting, but I want to stay home tomorrow.”
“Why?”
You can’t tell her it’s because Ilia is finally coming home tomorrow after months away, and you’re secretly hoping to spend even just an hour with him, even though you don’t have anything planned. You can’t tell her that without her thinking you’re weird, or without having to explain that you harbor a massive crush on your brother’s best friend that borders on love.
Okay, it’s not a crush. You’re helplessly in love with him.
“I have to finish assignments!”
“Ugh.” She groans, her face falling dramatically into her knees, which are tucked up to her chest. “I’m supposed to be partying tonight. I can’t come to work tomorrow on three hours of sleep and a hangover!”
“It’s not like you haven’t done it before.”
“What if I give you an extra thirty?” She tilts her head, her eyes practically sparkling with mischief, convinced she finally knows how to get through to you. “150 bucks is huge progress.”
“You can’t bribe me, Allie.”
“What if I do the assignment for you?”
“You?” You snort, ignoring her insulted expression. “You think you can analyze Descartes?”
“I can analyze anyone if I want to badly enough, bitch.”
Just then, someone clears their throat, indicating they want attention. Allie signals that she’ll take this order, so you flop onto the high chair, checking X for any updates on the upcoming Spider-Man promo.
It’s 10 p.m. when you and Allie finally close up the cafe. Exhaustion settles deep into your bones as you wave her off and walk in the opposite direction. Taylor Swift spills through your right earbud—part of a playlist your brother and Ilia would ceaselessly mock you for if they ever found out.
The walk home is short, approximately ten minutes through the quiet streets of Vienna. It rained an hour ago, and the petrichor in the air brings a weird type of comfort as you stride down the pavement. No one is really outside except for a few cars with their headlights cutting through the dark. Suddenly, one of them drives past and splashes dirty water all over you.
“Oh, great!” you huff out, looking down at your drenched pants, which have turned three shades darker from the knees down. Despite the annoyance, it does little to dampen your mood. You’re excited. You’re seeing him tomorrow.
The front door is unlocked, as it usually is when Jace is home alone. He’s in the living room, his face illuminated by the video game on the TV as he curses softly under his breath. He grips the controller with a hyper-focused expression, his tongue sticking out slightly at the corner of his mouth. The room smells like chips, with empty bags and crumbs scattered all over the coffee table. You sigh and flip on the overhead light, eliciting a yell from him. He looks over his shoulder for a split second, barely glancing at you.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks, his eyes already fixated back on the screen. “I would’ve picked you up.”
“You know when my shift finishes. You could’ve picked me up if you wanted to.”
“Well, sometimes you stay late.”
“I stayed late once because I had to clean up the mess Allie made,” your voice rises an octave, annoyed at having to explain this for what feels like the hundredth time. “Did you check on Dusty?”
“Yeah...”
“You don’t sound sure.”
Rolling your eyes, you wiggle out of your thin jacket and kick off your shoes, stepping onto the carpet. You lean over the back of the couch, observing the screen for a few minutes with curious eyes. “Jace, your aim is shit.”
“Thanks for rubbing it in.” He huffs, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he just rolled his eyes. “Wanna join?”
“No, I’m tired. I’m gonna take a shower.”
“Yes, please do. You stink like cinnamon.”
You playfully tug at his curls. He blindly reaches out to swat at you, but you wiggle out of his reach, a chuckle escaping your throat as you start climbing the stairs. You’ve almost reached the top, ready to scold Jace for a random t-shirt sprawled on the wooden floor, when a voice from behind stops you in your tracks.
“Hi.”
You recognize it instantly. Your eyes widen as you spin around on your heels.
Ilia smiles up at you, his expression resembling the Toothless printed on his t-shirt. His hair has grown out, and his face looks a bit fuller and healthier as he steps toward the base of the stairs.
You practically sprint back down, excitement bubbling in your chest as you try to contain your racing heartbeat. He opens his arms to pull you into a hug—a sweet gesture he always reserves for the people closest to him. It doesn’t necessarily mean anything romantic, even though you desperately wish it did. He rubs your back with his palm, and you breathe in his familiar scent, your eyes fluttering shut for a second.
“You smell nice,” he murmurs.
“I thought you were coming back tomorrow,” you say when he finally releases you, a helpless smile tugging at your lips. “Did Jace mix up the dates again?”
“Haha, no.” He smiles. “I wanted it to be a surprise. No one knew... well, except Jace, since he had to pick me up from the airport.”
“Bro, get back in here!” your brother yells from the living room, unnecessarily loud. You internally roll your eyes. “I’m getting cooked!”
“Yeah, just a second!” Ilia calls back.
“Hurry up!”
“I have something for you.” Ilia reaches into the pocket of his black shorts, pulling out a small box. Your chest physically tightens with anticipation. He nudges you to open it, looking just as excited to give the present as you are to receive it.
Inside the box lies a small pinky ring with a tiny spider carved into the gold metal. Your mouth parts slightly. You turn it over in your fingertips, taking in every single detail. It’s a nod to your favorite superhero, Spider-Man—something you’ve loved since childhood. Everyone who knows you knows about your obsession.
“Oh, Ilia...” Your smile widens, your eyes practically sparkling as you slip it onto your finger. The ring fits seamlessly. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
“I saw it in a store in New Jersey and thought of you.”
“Oh, I love it.”
You step in and give him a brief, tight hug. He reaches out and affectionately ruffles your hair with a chuckle. Then he leaves you there, finally returning to the living room to appease Jace, whose whining is getting more unbearable by the second.
You linger on the stairs for a moment, watching them play and debating whether to ask to join. You feel like you're going to burst from happiness. Turning around, you finish climbing the stairs and close your bedroom door behind you, a massive smile plastered on your face.
“Hey, Dusty.”
You crouch down by the cage, scooping up your chinchilla before she has a chance to wriggle away. She must have actually missed you tonight; instead of squirming out of your grasp like she usually does, she settles right into your lap, never once complaining as you carefully stroke her soft fur.
From downstairs, the muffled noises of loud exclamations drift up. They don't stop even after you've showered and midnight rolls around. Lying awake in your dark room, you twist in your bed to find a comfortable position. He’s staying the night, you realize. A soft, relaxed smile washes over your face as you finally close your eyes.
Almost the entire night, it keeps raining. At some point, Dusty starts making noises in her cage, startled by the thunder, forcing you to groggily roll out of bed to soothe her. The heavy rain sounds like a melody against the window, and a deep content settles over you as you close your eyes to go back to sleep.
Then, you hear his voice. He’s whispering your name softly, a dream so realistic that you can practically feel his touch on your arm.
But it’s not a dream, you slowly realize, when his grip tightens and he carefully shakes your shoulder. You blink a few times, squinting your eyes as you sit up to look at him. His face is softly illuminated by the moonlight spilling through the window, his expression almost apologetic.
“Sorry for waking you up,” he whispers. “I couldn’t find the extra blankets. It’s freezing.”
It takes you a few seconds to process his request. Nodding, you unwrap yourself from your comforter and slip your slippers on. He’s wearing a pair of Jace’s pajama shorts and your old t-shirt—the one your brother ended up stealing from you because he thought the half-washed-off graphic print looked cool.
He follows you out of the room. Then, suddenly, he lets out a muffled yell. Before your eyes can even widen, he wraps an arm around your waist from behind, using you as a human shield.
“What the hell?!” you hiss.
“She jumped on me!” His voice sounds almost childlike, and you can feel his heavy breathing, warm against your neck. His palms are gripping the bare skin of your waist, his touch almost knocking the breath right out of you.
You crouch down to scoop up Dusty before she can sprint down the hallway, double-checking this time that her cage door is actually latched. “Sorry. I must’ve forgotten to lock it.”
“Why does she always do that?” he groans, his voice quieting down in an attempt not to wake Jace up. “I didn’t even see her!”
“Shouldn’t you be used to her by now instead of being terrified?”
“I’m not scared of her!” he whispers, rolling his eyes as he follows you down the stairs. His blatant hypocrisy makes you snort. “I was just... taken aback.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Ilyusha.”
Downstairs, you lift the heavy lid of the corner sectional's storage section, pulling out a thick blanket and handing it over. He mutters a quick thank you. You notice the living room is completely neat—the coffee table cleared of the empty chip bags and wrappers Jace usually leaves behind. Of course Jace wasn’t the one who cleaned it. You're entirely sure of that.
“Thanks again,” Ilia says, giving you a small smile. “I wasn’t sure Jace would even know where they were, otherwise I wouldn't have woken you.”
“Jace doesn’t know where anything is in this house.”
“Yeah, true.” He laughs softly.
He follows you back up the stairs, heading toward the guest room right next to yours. Jace’s door is wide open, his loud snoring echoing down the hallway. Rolling your eyes, you step into your room. Ilia lingers by your doorframe for a second, looking as if he wants to say something else.
“Goodnight,” you say softly.
“Goodnight.”
You give him a tight smile, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet as you close the door. Only when you’re back under your sheets does the weight of the situation hit you. It feels so incredibly familiar, like a sudden wave of deja vu.
Suddenly, you’re transported back to Jace’s nineteenth birthday.
After begging your dad for weeks, Jace had finally convinced him to hand over the keys to the lake house. He had bought tons of drinks and snacks—along with a small cake at your and his then-girlfriend's insistence—ready to throw a party with his friends. Ilia was there, of course, alongside a mix of Jace's old high school friends and new ones from college.
Setting up proper beds for ten people had been impossible. You had ended up squeezing onto a mattress with Ruby and Maya, but Ruby kept snoring so loudly that you almost went crazy. Frustrated, you had finally dragged your pillow and a thin blanket downstairs in the middle of the night.
Everyone else had passed out by then. Ilia occupied the main part of the L-shaped sectional, softly snoring with his cheek pressed against a decorative pillow. The extended chaise lounge part of the couch was just enough space for you if you curled up tightly. You settled down with your head on the opposite end, your feet barely touching his.
Sleep had taken you over instantly, but around dawn, the rain had picked up and the temperature dropped completely. You started shivering violently, the thin throw blanket doing nothing to keep out the chill. You kept hugging yourself, twisting in the small space and rubbing your feet together in a weak attempt to stay warm.
You weren’t in love with him back then—not yet. You just harbored a massive crush on him because he was the only guy who treated you with a genuine, gentle decency. The extra blankets were nowhere to be found, and you felt like you were on the verge of crying from the cold.
You glanced over at Ilia, who was buried comfortably under a comforter that was definitely heavier than yours. Taking a breath, you sat up and slipped over to his side of the sectional, your stomach flipping with sudden anticipation.
“Ilia,” you murmured, gently nudging his shoulder. You shook him a little harder when he didn’t budge. “Ilia.”
“What?” He lifted his head, his brown hair messy from sleep, squinting up at you. “Did something happen?”
“Can I sleep next to you?”
“What?”
“Ruby’s friend was snoring and I had to come downstairs,” you whispered, gesturing toward the chaise lounge where your crumpled, useless blanket lay as evidence. “And I’m really, really cold.”
“Oh.” He nodded slowly, understanding clicking in as he lifted the edge of his comforter so you could climb underneath. “Yeah, go ahead.”
“Thanks.”
You smiled, but you weren’t sure he even heard you. He immediately turned his back to you to continue sleeping. The sectional wasn’t huge, but there was still a decent amount of distance between your bodies. You shuddered against the initial chill, the warmth of the heavy blanket slowly settling into your bones, but it wasn’t quite enough to stop your shivering. Your deep, shaky breaths sounded incredibly loud in the quiet room.
Finally, you turned toward his back, softly cursing under your breath as you bit your lip. “Ilia.”
“Now what?” his muffled voice came into the dark.
“Can I...?” you asked shyly, closing the small gap between you. You hesitantly pressed your shins against the back of his legs, seeking his warmth.
“Sure.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He didn’t reply. You nudged forward a little more, the heat radiating off him bringing an instant wave of comfort. First, your legs overlapped with his. Then, you shyly leaned into his torso, nuzzling your face against the soft cotton of his shirt right between his shoulder blades.
You heard him let out a low groan, and your eyes widened in sudden panic, thinking you had made a grave mistake. But then, he rolled over to face you. With his eyes still closed, he reached out and wrapped a heavy arm around your waist, pulling your back tightly against his chest. You almost went entirely limp under his touch.
“Is that better?” he asked sleepily. He rubbed his palm up and down your arm, locking his legs with yours, his warm breath fawning over your cheek.
The heat spread through your entire body so fast you felt like your face was burning. Something fluttered wildly in your stomach as you managed to mumble out the words. “Yeah. Thanks.”
You had lain awake for hours after that, completely unable to sleep—this time not from the cold, but from the overwhelming realization that Ilia was cuddling you. Your brother’s best friend. The boy next door you had grown up with.
Back in the present, a subtle smirk tugs at your lips as you recall the memory. It’s so incredibly vivid that, for a split second, you can still feel the exact weight of his arm wrapped around you. You wonder if he ever thinks about that night at the lake house. You wonder if, to him, it was just a half-asleep favor to his best friend’s freezing little sister—or if he lies awake in the room next door, remembering it exactly the way you do.
You’re the first one to wake up. You let Dusty out of her cage, letting her wander around but keeping your bedroom door shut tight so she doesn’t slip out and potentially scare Ilia once again. Even though you’ve owned her for three years now, he still isn't comfortable around her, constantly asking you to keep her in your room when he comes over. He’ll pet her soft fur if you’re holding her securely in your embrace, but the moment she looks like she might jump onto him or even swat her tail, he gets all jerky.
With your father away at a medical conference in Boston, you're the sole responsible person around the house. Surprisingly, the dishes aren’t piled up in the sink—either Jace actually recalled his duties for once this week, or Ilia did you a silent favor. You start preparing a quick breakfast, making enough for the boys to eat later whenever they finally decide to crawl out of bed. Afterward, you sweep the floor, take out the trash, and by noon, you’ve already finished your assignments.
Allie sends you pictures from last night, proudly texting you that she successfully dumped her shift onto Betty, smugly noting that she didn't even need the extra thirty bucks to bribe her.
You’re downstairs on the couch, having started a new book, when you hear footsteps on the stairs. You already know it’s not Jace by the quiet, light rhythm of the steps.
“Hey.”
“Hi.” You look up as Ilia smiles at you, flopping down onto the cushions right next to you. “What are you reading?”
“The Death of Ivan Ilyich.”
“Who’s the author?”
“Tolstoy.”
“Oh.” He nods as if he understands, though his modest knowledge of literature prevents him from striking up a real conversation about it. “What’s it about?”
“It’s about a man who spends his whole life doing exactly what society expects of him until he gets sick and realizes he wasted his life away pursuing meaningless things,” you explain quickly. His curious gaze is locked onto yours. Unlike Jace, when Ilia asks you about a book, he genuinely listens. He often remembers the ones you’ve read and loved, or the ones you completely hated. “Basically, it’s about what is really meaningful in life and how we choose to focus on all the wrong stuff.”
“Sounds... smart.”
“It is.” You chuckle, closing the book against your lap as you take him in. His hair is completely messy from sleep, the pillow creases still visible on his cheeks, and his puffy lips make him look even cuter than he usually is. “How was Stars on Ice?”
“Really fun.” His face instantly lights up as the memories flood back, and you can’t help but mimic his smile. “But tiring. It’s good to be back home.”
“I’m surprised you spent the night over here and didn’t force your cats to cuddle with you instead.”
“Believe me, if that worked, I wouldn't be sitting here.” He smiles, giving you a strange look you can’t quite decipher. His eyebrows furrow slightly as if something just hit him. “Did you cut your hair?”
“Yeah, last month.”
“Looks good.”
“I’ve been wearing it like this for a while,” you chuckle, secretly thrilled by the fact that he notices even the slightest changes. “Have you got anything planned today?”
“Yeah, I’m going out with Jace and some friends.”
“Oh. Cool.”
“Are you working today?”
“No. I plan to finish this book and I have a new Lego set to build,” you announce proudly, recalling the unopened box resting on top of your closet. “I’ll probably play Valorant with Ziggy and Cam later.”
“Have you upgraded your rank?”
“Sadly, no.” Your face falls slightly at the thought, a heavy sigh escaping your lips. “Between studying and working, I don’t have much time for competitive grinding.”
“Yeah, I can imagine.”
You linger on the silence, waiting for him to invite you along, but he doesn’t mention the plans again. You brush the disappointment aside—he’s probably going out with just the guys, which isn’t exactly the perfect hangout scenario for you to squeeze into anyway. At the mention of video games, you secretly hope he’ll suggest playing Fortnite with you, something you two haven’t done together since the winter, but the invitation never comes.
“There’s leftover breakfast in the kitchen if you’re hungry.”
“Thanks.” He smiles at you, leaving the living room with lazy, heavy footsteps.
You’ve known Ilia for as long as you can remember yourself. He lives just two houses down, his parents having been longtime friends with yours since before either of you were even born. In fact, his mother, Tatyana, is the closest thing to a mother figure you have in your life.
Your own mom passed away when you were barely a year old. A tragic highway accident took her and her sister’s lives way before you ever had a chance to form a memory of her. Jace doesn’t remember her either. You once overheard a conversation between him and Ilia, where your brother confessed that every time he closed his eyes to try and imagine the mother he only knew from framed portraits, it was your face that floated up in his mind.
Even though you’re three years younger than Jace, you’ve always been the one taking care of him. You scold him for leaving the living room messy, you rage at him for failing to do the dishes when it’s his turn, and you give him deeply disappointed looks every time he messes up something as simple as an omelet because his hands just don’t seem to cooperate in the kitchen.
But despite all his flaws, his lazy personality, and his careless nature, Jace is the one person you can always truly rely upon. He’s the one who brightens your worst days with his mid-tier jokes, the one who always solves your problems when it actually matters, and the one who fiercely defends you the second he feels like someone is mocking you. Flaws and all, he’s your brother—the one you would give your life for without hesitation.
Then there's your dad. As a plastic surgeon based in Washington, he leaves early in the morning and comes home late in the evening. He’s successful, and his earnings allow the family to live a very comfortable suburban life. Because of that, he doesn’t really like the idea of you working a part-time job, constantly insisting you should focus entirely on your studies.
But you think otherwise. You like being independent and busy, and honestly, you really enjoy steaming the milk and trying out different latte arts. The smell of fresh cinnamon rolls brings a distinct comfort to you, making the little cafe feel like a second home. Squeezing a few shifts a week into your schedule isn't that hard, especially now that the university semester is winding down.
Jace, on the other hand, was perfectly happy benefiting from your father’s generosity—until your dad threatened to freeze his bank accounts, forcing him to finally get a job during his second year of college. He works remotely as a junior software engineer now, which means he’s mostly home, always available to hang out with Ilia, and seamlessly capable of fixing any technical issues your gaming PC runs into.
You reopen your book, your eyes tracing the hallway toward the kitchen where you can hear Ilia moving around. Even though the three of you grew up together, he always belonged to Jace, being his best friend foremost.
You remember being five years old and chasing after them, desperately wanting to be included in one of their games that seemed super cool to you. Jace would usually turn you down, but Ilia would hesitate until the tears pricked your eyes and he finally felt bad for you enough to include you.
Growing up you had a huge crush on Ilia. Your dad often jokingly recalled how you always chased after him in your little skirts and pigtails, essentially forcing him to sit down and play dollhouse with you. It wasn’t anything surprising. Just like you, Liza had a crush on Jace growing up. But unlike you and Ilia, their age gap was almost eleven years, and unlike Ilia, Jace wasn’t nearly as considerate of her feelings.
You can’t exactly pinpoint when you realized your feelings for him, but you remember vividly when it all started—when you first looked at him as a boy, and not just the boy next door or your brother’s best friend who happened to be nice to you.
You had impulsively decided to get a new haircut, walking into a random salon that happened to have a free spot that day. Usually, you were good at making decisions, but that idea had been a disaster. You left the salon with tears slowly pooling in your eyes, entirely convinced the world had ended. You kept your head down so people wouldn't notice and make fun of you, finally sitting down on the curb. Too ashamed to continue walking like that, you unlocked your phone and called Jace, begging him to come pick you up.
Sitting there, you made sure to keep your face buried in your knees. No one really noticed your haircut, but no one noticed that you were crying, either. Maybe they just chose not to.
“Hi.”
You recognized the voice instantly, but it didn’t belong to Jace.
Lifting your head, you looked up at him, confused, through wet, crumpled lashes. Ilia was standing right in front of you, an awkward smile plastered across his boyish features. He hadn’t discovered blonde hair dye back then; he hadn’t landed a quad axel yet. He was barely seventeen, just two years older than you.
“What are you doing here?” you asked, your brows drawn together.
“Jace couldn’t come, so he sent me,” he shrugged, his eyes lingering on your hair for a split second before you embarrassedly ducked your head back down. “Why are you crying?”
“Please, this is not the time to make fun of me.”
“I’m not.” He shook his head, his voice firm as he reached down and gently tugged your arm to get you onto your feet.
You kept your gaze fixated on the pavement the entire walk to the car, as if looking down would somehow make your haircut less noticeable. He didn't say a word, not until you climbed into the passenger seat and immediately shifted your stare to your shoes.
“It’s not bad,” he said softly.
You let out a bitter snort. He exhaled, looking at you with a touch of annoyance at your sheer stubbornness.
“No, seriously,” he insisted. “You’re just not used to it. Give it a few days and you’ll learn how to style it.”
Something in his tone made you look up. The absolute softness in his expression caused a strange, tightening sensation in your chest that you couldn't quite pinpoint. He reached into the car's door pocket, extending his hand to offer you a napkin, which you took without hesitation. Then, he leaned across the center console toward you. His hands flew into your hair, carefully fixing a few stray strands, a peaceful, focused expression on his face.
You watched him, frozen, almost too stunned to even breathe.
“I promise you it looks fine,” he repeated, his voice more adamant this time. “Stop crying about it. There’s nothing wrong with it.”
“You swear?”
“I swear.” He smiled, finally leaning back into his seat as he slotted the key into the ignition and turned it.
You wiped the remaining tears from your eyes, your body finally relaxing as a sudden wave of peace washed over your mind.
“Do you want to get donuts on the way?”
“Yeah. I do,” you agreed softly.
You stared at his profile as he pulled out onto the road, glancing over at him throughout the entire drive home. You tried to make sense of the heavy, fluttering feeling tightening your chest—the one that, instead of disappearing, only seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.
Later that night, you had lain awake in your bed, endlessly replaying the way he had leaned in, the careful way he fixed your hair, and the ghost of his fingertips brushing against your face. You had smiled into your pillow, thinking for the very first time about how cute he was when he laughed, his eyes crinkling up around the edges.
“Oh, fuuuuck!”
You yell out, slamming your hands onto the desk as you let out a long sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning back in your gaming chair. From the headset around your neck, you can hear Ziggy laughing hysterically. Before he can say something about your short temper like he usually does, you rip the headphones off and toss them across the bed.
It takes you a couple of seconds to realize your outburst has terrified Dusty. Her little paws are grasping the bars of her cage, a horrified expression on her tiny face.
“Sorry,” you mutter, giving her an apologetic smile.
You generally consider yourself a composed person—someone who can control their emotions under pressure—except when it comes to Valorant. You were so close to victory. It was a 12-11 match point on Ascent, a literal 1v1 situation where you had the spike defused halfway, only for the enemy Reyna to swing around the corner and catch you with a lucky headshot because your crosshair placement was a millimeter off.
Despite your morning shift at the cafe tomorrow, you completely lost track of time, having been grinding competitive queues for almost four hours straight. Shutting down the PC, you place your headphones back where they belong and unlock your phone. You send a quick text to the Discord group chat, letting them know you're calling it a night, ignoring the way the chat is currently going wild over your sudden outburst.
Jace still hasn't come home from wherever he is with Ilia and their friends. You don’t plan on waiting up for him. The fact that they chose to invite Melanie and her sister out tonight, but didn’t even bother to extend the invitation to you, quietly stings.
It’s way past 2 a.m. when you’re jolted awake by a barrage of loud noises from downstairs. A heavy thud is immediately followed by muffled laughter, indicating that someone has fallen over. It’s most likely Jace, who can barely hold his liquor yet always insists on drinking.
Curiosity gets the better of you. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you find yourself padding out of your room barefoot, quiet as a ghost as you glance down at the living room from atop the stairs.
You see Jace with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sectional, completely wasted. Max is sitting right next to him. Even though you can't see the others from this angle, you immediately recognize the remaining voices. They belong to Josh and Jack—the identical twins you could never tell apart until Josh gained ten kilograms—and, lastly, Ilia.
“I’d put a ring on Maggie, yeah,” Jack’s loud voice cuts through the room, followed by a few murmurs of agreement. “She’s total wifey material.”
“Why? Because she knows how to cook?”
“Not only,” Jack replies to Josh, the disgusting, suggestive implication in his voice so apparent that your stomach instantly turns. “She even gives better head.”
You freeze, waiting for Ilia to say something. You wait for him to stop Jack, to scold him for discussing a girl like she’s an object on a shelf, but no one does. Everyone just laughs it off.
Then Jack proceeds to talk about how he’d have to 'kill' Julie because, despite her having a "banger ass," she is incredibly annoying and never stops talking.
You realize they’re playing Fuck, Marry, Kill. Even though you’re completely unimpressed and borderline mad about their choice of game, you still stay. You can't make your feet move. You want to hear if Ilia participates. You desperately, foolishly want to know if he has his eyes on someone else, despite the fact that the answer will absolutely destroy you.
You wait for Max to name Becky, Gabriella, or literally anyone else as the third choice. But the moment your own name leaves his mouth, your fingers grip the wooden railing. The breath hitches sharply in your throat.
“Come on, that’s Jace’s little sister,” Josh’s voice cuts in, sounding surprisingly considerate. “That’s not cool.”
“All the girls are someone’s sister or daughter,” Max rolls his eyes, entirely dismissive.
You glance at Jace, praying he’ll wake up and shut it down, but his head remains thrown back against the cushions, his chest rising and falling in a heavy, alcohol-induced sleep. He’s completely out. They wouldn’t dare talk about you like that otherwise; Jace would never allow it.
Up on the dark stairs, you wait for Ilia to intervene. A part of you hopes he will do exactly what Jace would do. But another, deeper part of you—a secret, desperate part—is secretly hoping that he’d actually pick you.
“It’s just a game, there’s no harm in it,” Max pressures, throwing a heavy, expectant look across the room. “Come on, what would you do with Jace’s sister?”
“Shit, her?” Jack lets out a low chuckle, a drunken smirk in his voice. “I mean, she’s a total nerd but she’s getting fine as hell lately. I'd definitely smash. Just lock the bedroom door so Jace doesn't catch us.”
A sick wave of humiliation washes over you in the dark, your stomach doing a violent, painful flip at the blatant disrespect.
“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” Ilia snaps.
His voice completely loses its relaxed warmth. It cuts through the room with a sharp edge that makes everyone instantly freeze.
“Don't talk about her like that. Show some respect.”
An uncomfortable, heavy silence falls over the living room. But Max just sits up a little higher on the couch, a smirk spreading across his face as he instantly pokes at Ilia's sudden anger.
“Whoa, alright, defensive much?” Max chuckles, leaning forward to lock his eyes on him. “Jace is completely passed out, bro. You don't need to play the protective big brother.”
“She’s like my little sister,” Ilia mutters, his voice tight and strained. “Just pick someone else.”
“Oh, bullshit excuse,” Max’s voice is adamant, completely enjoying how much he’s successfully getting under Ilia's skin. “Is that why you have such a soft spot for her? Look at you, you’re practically ready to fight Jack over a joke.”
“You’re insane, man,” Ilia laughs, though the sound is entirely forced, stripped of any genuine amusement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don't look at her like a girl at all.”
The words feel like a physical slap to your face.
Your heartbeat violently quickens, your palms growing slick and sweaty against the wooden railing as you instantly back away. You can’t stay to listen to another word, hot tears already prickling your eyes and blurring the shadows of the hallway.
You take a few rushed, blind steps backward, but your ankle collides with a ball lying on the floor. Furious and completely heartbroken, you kick it with all your force. The ball goes clattering loudly down the stairs, bouncing sharply against the wood before rolling into the living room.
“What was that noise?” Max asks, his voice suddenly sharp.
As if to give them a definitive answer, you storm into your bedroom and slam the door shut, the noise echoing like a gunshot. You turn the lock, ensuring that no one has a chance to bother you tonight—whether someone ends up feeling sick from the alcohol, or they suddenly realize they need extra blankets and pillows from the hallway closet.
You crawl into the bed, tears quietly streaming down your face in the darkness, his words replaying over and over and over in your head in a cruel, agonizing loop until you finally fall into a heavy, restless sleep, the suffocating weight pressing down on your chest.
hello! could you write an ilia malinin x reader where they just give eachother a lot of hickeys?
lovers rock - Ilia Malinin x reader
now playing: lovers rock-tv girl
warnings: making out, Ilia thinking he's funny, and it backfires in his face
Movie nights with your boyfriend Ilia are never just movie nights. They always end in you sitting in Ilias lap with your lips on his. There’s just something about the private darkness of his bedroom that lends itself to shoving your tongue in your boyfriend’s mouth.
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Tonight is no different, you’re about halfway through rewatching 13 Going on 30 when Ilia leans his head on your shoulder. It seems innocent enough until he tilts his head in towards you and starts placing soft pecks to the side of your neck.
“Ilia.” You warn, keeping your eyes glued to the television. He smiles against your skin, breathing out softly.
“You can keep watching, I’m not gonna do anything.” You know that’s a lie, he always does this when he’s missed you. His kisses travel higher until he reaches your lips. He turns your head away from the tv and presses a firm kiss on your lips. He keeps you turned toward him as he runs his hand through your hair.
“You’re so needy.” He just smiles as you sigh and climb to sit on his thighs, finally giving into his teasing. Your hands find his soft blond hair and bring him towards you to kiss him again. He pulls away and giggles.
“No ‘m not” He feigns innocence, trying to annoy you. You roll your eyes and kiss his jaw, knowing exactly how to get back at him.
“I hope your costumer enjoys putting you in a turtleneck.” You mumble just quiet enough to where he can’t hear you. You mirror his actions from earlier, except this time kissing down his neck. Every few kisses you pull his skin between your teeth and bite softly on it. Ilia groans, pulling lightly on your hair. Once you reach his collarbone, you attach your lips to his neck and suck a small bruise to onto his skin.
“You’re so annoying.” Ilia’s voice is soft and breathy, cracking a bit at the end of his sentence. Despite his words he pushes you closer to him, silently telling you to continue. You add a few more bruises and bite marks scattered around his lower neck and collarbone before you force yourself to pull away.
“Your turn. We need to match.” Ilia’s face lights up and he immediately presses his face to your chest. He shifts the strap of your tank top and kisses right above your bra cup. “Not too low, my shirt is staying on tonight.” You pull on the roots of his hair guiding him back up to your neck. He bites down on the spot where your neck and shoulders meet, right above the necklace he gifted you. He licks the spot he just bit, as if apologizing for hurting you. He pulls away and turns your head, giving him more access to your skin. He goes back in, immediately sucking a dark new spot on the side of your neck. He readjusts his head and adds another mark right next to it. Ilia tries to go for another, but a meow from the edge of the bed stops him. He turns his head, seeing his cat staring at him from her spot near his foot.
“Hi Miu Miu. I forgot you were in here.” He winces, realizing his cat just watched him attack your neck with hickeys. Miu Miu just mewls softly and smacks his foot, her way of telling him to stop being a horndog.
“This is why I need to stop agreeing to come over for a movie.” You pull him in for another kiss, smiling as your lips connect.
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