contains: themes of addiction, kid fic, exes to lovers, hate sex, LOTS of smut, eventual fluff, angst with a happy ending
wc: 12.1k
masterlist
a/n: hi everyone i missed u while i was gone i had sm fun but im so excited to be back and finally posting this! vibe for this is very much like affection by between friends closer by the chainsmokers etc its freaky but it gets cute by the end so i hope u all like it yay
chapter one
Azzi has never liked driving. Never in her life. She was late getting her permit at fifteen because she didn’t want to go to driver’s education, didn’t even get her license until she was seventeen because she dreaded taking the test so badly. It didn’t matter. She had her parents to drive her around, and then she could ask her friends or girlfriend to drive her, and then she had a wife to drive her everywhere. Ubering became one of her biggest expenses after the divorce.
She’s driving right now. She always drives on Saturdays because Saturdays are one of the only times she would rather drive herself than sacrifice her privacy. She’s in her Tesla, the white one that’s glossy and a few years old but hers all the same. Azzi likes this car because Kitty likes that it’s low to the ground and the center console has a screen with games on it. The lights that line the car are set to pink because it’s Kitty’s favorite color. They pulse on beat with the J. Cole song Azzi has playing softly.
She turns into Paige’s neighborhood. The gate is closed. She drives up to it, rolls down her window to lean forward and punch in the code. The summer sun and a soft breeze sweep into her car when the glass barrier is removed. The number pad is cold and it sings a harsh beep when she puts in the correct password. The gates start to swing open. They’re sleek and black and shine in the sunlight. She retracts her arm and rolls her window back up. While her hand is on the door, she reaches down into the compartment on the bottom of the door. Digs around in the bare storage space until she finds a familiar shape. Pulls out her vape, holds it to her mouth, inhales slowly while it hums softly to her.
Paige’s house is tucked into the bosom of one of the first cul-de-sacs to peel away from the main road of the neighborhood. Azzi follows the street until she finds the entrance to hers and then turns down it. She allows herself one more inhale and then sets her vape back into the compartment it had been in. The car smells sickly sweet with its smoke. Her tires slow as she nears Paige’s house. She recognizes it by the way the trees are ordered, by the way the thick bushes hiding the iron fences boxing in everyone’s properties are shaped. She passes the most protruded driveway on the whole street, the one labeled with a golden seven. Paige lives in nine.
Saturdays were the mornings chosen for the trading of Kitty because Azzi had wanted Sundays but Paige had insisted Sunday mornings must be left untouched for time to go to mass. Azzi found this interesting because Paige had stopped regularly going to church about a year before the divorce had come. Kitty had never known the Bible. The most Christian thing about their family was the cross jewelry they occasionally wore, the matching Bible verses their publicists insisted they kept as their Instagram bios, the way Azzi used to repeat Paige’s name like a prayer when they were fighting and she had nothing else to say. It felt less about mass and more about control, about Paige wanting something to fight Azzi over. But Azzi didn’t say anything when that was brought up. She just gave in.
Azzi pulls onto Paige’s driveway. Her gate, black and wrought iron and intricate just like every other gate in the community, stands tall before her. Azzi pulls up next to her keypad to put in the code. It doesn’t make a noise when she punches in the right code. It just quietly slides open, revealing the long driveway that widens into a circle around the fountain that splashes in the middle of the summer heat. From how far away Azzi is, she can see the front door already starting to open. She smiles softly to herself and starts to drive forward.
A small child dragging a few bags with her steps out from the front door and shuts it behind her. Azzi waves at her through the windshield. Kitty waves back, grinning at her. She isn’t holding much. Just a large duffel propped up on a suitcase, the familiar Vera Bradley patterning of the bag making Azzi smile a little. It’s Azzi’s bag, one she had allowed her to borrow with the intention of letting her keep it. It was for a sleepover a few months before the divorce. The suitcase, too, is one Azzi had picked out. Paige had paid for it. Paige paid for most things when they were married. When it isn’t summer, she has to bring her school backpack, too. She gets a new one every year. Paige pays.
The driveway is so pristine that not a single piece of gravel crunches as Azzi rolls to a stop in front of the front porch. The large balcony protruding off of the front of the house shades where Azzi stops, where Kitty stands on the porch. The little girl smiles at her widely. Azzi steps out of the car. She has to duck to fit her tall frame under the top of the car. When she straightens up next to it, her daughter is nearly jumping up and down, tiny hands gripping her bag as she bends and straightens her knees with excitement. Azzi laughs a little at her as she rounds the front of her car to help the girl with her bags.
“Hi, Mama!” Kitty beams at her as Azzi walks up to her. The bags are left forgotten as Azzi gets closer, abandoned in favor of a hug. Azzi crouches a little to wrap her arms around her little torso. Kitty giggles into her shoulder as she hugs her back.
“Hi, Kitty! Mama missed you,” Azzi coos. She pulls back and plants a kiss to the top of the girl’s head. She giggles again. Azzi reaches out and begins to drag her bags out onto the driveway with her. Kitty follows her. The back door of her car is opened and she starts to set her bags down on the floor to the side opposite Kitty’s car seat. “How was ballet camp? D’you have fun with Molly?”
Kitty smiles at her as she stands next to her, watching her mother put her things in the car. The sun shines on her skin. She wrings her hands out in front of her, still grinning. “Yes, a lot! I really wanna show you a dance I learned. I tried to make Mommy video me so I could send it to you, but it wouldn’t let me send it. And then I thought it would be better to do it in real life, ‘cause I think you’re gonna like it in real life more than on a video.” She sounds almost solemn as she finishes speaking.
Azzi turns to look at her. Her big brown eyes are almost sparkling at her. She’s smiling without baring her teeth, little lips stretched into a curve. Azzi grins back at her. “Oh, I’m really excited now. ‘m glad you waited to show me in person. Performances are always so much better when it’s not a video, you’re so right,” she agrees, shutting the car door. She reaches out for Kitty to take her hand. Kitty immediately obliges, tucking her small fingers into Azzi’s. Azzi, without thinking, looks up from her face and at Paige’s house.
Paige is standing in the window next to the door. She isn’t outside. She usually doesn’t come outside when Azzi picks Kitty up and Azzi usually doesn’t come outside when Paige picks her up, either. They don’t really talk at all anymore. So she’s just standing in the window, hands in her pockets, face blank. Her blue eyes lock onto Azzi’s. The glass dims the brightness of them slightly, but Azzi can still sense how striking they are, how her irises wash her entire face with something almost like a chill. “Yeah. And I also got to do a partner one with Molly. But that one I can’t show you, ‘cause we don’t have Molly in our house.”
Azzi can feel herself becoming a little stiff with awkwardness. Paige blinks at her, unmoving. She’s almost intimidating. Azzi’s brows raise just slightly at her. Paige doesn’t look away. “Shoot. Maybe we can have a playdate with her soon and you guys can show me and her parents.” She says it while tearing her eyes away from Paige’s, looking back down at their daughter. Kitty is still obliviously holding her hand in the middle of the driveway. Azzi starts to lead her around the car.
“Only if we can nemember it so long away,” she says, almost lamenting. Azzi hums in soft agreement. She opens the back door for the little girl when they reach it. Kitty climbs into the car. Her pink car seat waits for her and Azzi watches as she settles herself on top of it, grunting quietly. She shuts the door when she hears the click of her seatbelt buckling.
Azzi walks back to the driver’s seat. Opens the door, slips in, is careful to duck extra far forward so as to not hit her head on the car. The seat is cool and welcomes her. An Olivia Dean song has come on. Kitty is humming the lyrics in a way that slightly doesn’t match up. Azzi glances up at her through her rearview mirror and smiles at her. “Kinda hot out today,” she muses as she slides the car back into drive.
Kitty nods once. It’s big enough that Azzi catches it and the slight bounce of her ringlets through the mirror. Azzi starts rolling around the circular driveway, the California sun warming them through the windows as she leaves Paige’s property. “Yeah, so I think we should go in the pool. And so I can practice doing a flip in the water.” Azzi laughs quietly and looks forward.
“Sounds good, sweetie. I was gonna invite Aunt Carol over, too, can she hang out in the pool with us?” Paige’s gate opens slowly in front of her car, the glossy black of it shining in the sunlight. She waits as they swing towards her until the gap is big enough to drive through, slipping all the way out of Paige’s clutches.
Kitty hums a sound of agreement. “Yeah. Can you…You should ask if she has any more of those candies that she had last time.” Azzi can hear her kicking her feet a little from where her little legs sit against her car seat. She’s smiling a little. Azzi catches the expression through the mirror again. It’s sweet, Kitty’s cheeks soft and chubby against the curve of her lips.
Azzi laughs a little again. “Okay, yeah, I will.” Kitty makes a soft noise of excitement. She starts to hum along to the song playing again. It’s still just barely off in an endearing way. Azzi is biting the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning too hard while she turns out of Paige’s neighborhood and back onto the main road.
The drive isn’t very far. Paige had moved into a house just a few neighborhoods away after the divorce. Azzi had kept their house. Paige had given in rather easily. Azzi wasn’t making as much money as she was when they had divorced. Probably still isn’t, if she’s being honest with herself. Acting is hard like that. For most of the time they were married, Azzi was more so known for being married to Paige than she was for being her own actress.
She didn’t really mind it until she started being known for being divorced from Paige. But it’s been a long year since that started and she thinks it’s better now. She’s had a few jobs since then, has been offered more for the future. Caroline got offered a really good role in a really good show about three months ago and she’s already entering new circles and dragging Azzi into them with her. Azzi is drawing new connections and she thinks she’s much more successful now than she ever was married to Paige. But that never really was Paige’s fault, was it? Acting is just hard like that.
They pull into the driveway and Azzi parks in the garage, sliding the Tesla in the gap between two of her other cars. Kitty is scrambling to unbuckle herself and get out of the car before Azzi can even help her with the door. She laughs a little at her daughter, who just smiles up at her, telling her she’s excited to get in the pool. Azzi grabs her bags from the back and Kitty insists on carrying at least her duffel into the house.
Azzi calls Caroline to tell her to come over as she’s slipping off her clothes and on a bikini. Kitty bursts through the door to her bedroom as she’s tying the back together to ask her for candy. Azzi scolds her for not knocking while Caroline laughs through the phone speaker, Kitty smiling at the noise. Azzi tickles her sides until she runs back out of the room squealing. They’re both downstairs slathering sunscreen along Kitty’s skin just a few minutes later when a knock at the door comes.
There’s a streak of white where Azzi isn’t able to rub the sunscreen into her arm well enough before Kitty is squealing again and ripping free of Azzi’s grip to run towards the door. Azzi laughs. Her hands are oily from sunscreen as she tries to twist the doorknob. “Come in,” Azzi calls from the kitchen, grinning as she walks into the foyer behind her daughter. Kitty stands in front of the door until Caroline is already pushing it open. She stumbles back a little, feet catching on the rug in front of the door, and then stands there as the crack in the doorway widens.
Caroline steps in. All long hair and smooth skin, she’s already looking down at Kitty’s height to meet her eye. One hand closes the door behind her and the other grips the straps of her purse. Kitty starts bouncing out of excitement again. “Hi, Katie Cat!” Kitty holds her arms out. Caroline laughs a little and bends down to hug her back. Azzi smiles, crossing her arms as she watches her daughter and best friend interact. “I have something for you in my purse.”
The two girls part. Caroline straightens up and starts digging through her purse. The mouth of it is open and Kitty watches her with shining eyes. “Is it the candy?” Caroline flashes her teeth at her at the question. Kitty hugs herself, grinning up at her mother’s friend. Caroline produces a handful of individually wrapped candies, the packaging bright colors without any wording. Kitty scrambles to grab them out of her palm. “I’m so happy,” she proclaims, smiling at Azzi.
Azzi smiles back at her. “I can tell, pumpkin,” she coos. Kitty unwraps one and runs into the kitchen. Caroline looks towards Azzi finally, grinning widely. Azzi levels her with a stare she means to be intimidating but can tell the smile on her face renders practically useless. “Bro, Carol. You just gave her so many of those, she’s gonna have a sugar rush all day today.”
Caroline laughs. Her head tips back a little and her hair, which is collected in a smooth braid that runs along the line of her spine, swings slightly behind her. She starts walking farther into Azzi’s house. Her sandals click dully on the tile. “She’s fine. She’ll swim it out in the pool. I wanna tan and talk, c’mon,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of Azzi’s backyard from the foyer. Azzi sighs and gives in.
Kitty eats four pieces of candy before they all even step foot outside. Azzi tells her she’s only allowed to have another if she swims an entire lap of the pool or does five flips in the water. So here they are, the pile of candy sitting on a table next to Azzi’s lounge chair, Kitty splashing in the sparkling water of the pool as the summer sun smiles down on them. Azzi and Caroline lay next to each other on their stomachs. Their skin is warm as the ultraviolet rays press burn into them. Mac Miller sings to them from a speaker set at the edge of the pool.
Caroline squints at her. Azzi squints back. She can feel sweat beading along her skin and slipping down her body, can feel herself being softened and molded by the firm hands of the sun. “Oh, Az, I almost forgot. I was gonna talk to you about this over the phone, but then Kitty busted in.” Caroline moves her arms from down at her sides to up by her face. She stacks them and then rests her head on them. “I’m going clubbing tonight with some people you need to hang out with. One of them - Emi, you remember Emi, right? - actually asked about you, asked me if I’d invite you. You should come out with us. I’m hosting the pre, so it’ll be fine.”
Azzi squints harder. Her brows furrow a little bit. She does remember Emi- one of Caroline’s friends she had made on set, a girl who was much more successful than her but still incredibly nice the one time they had hung out for a few hours at Caroline’s house. “I need to hang out with? Carol, this isn’t you trying to get me to try coke again, right?” Her voice lowers a little like Kitty could hear her from all the way over here.
Caroline snorts a soft laugh. Azzi’s lips wobble with the threat of a smile. “No, dude, that was one time. And you didn’t like it and I never brought it up again, hush,” she says, laughing a little through it. Azzi rolls her eyes. The action is lazy and melted by outside heat. “No, they’re actually all super chill. I more so meant that as in, like, this’ll be really good for your connections. I know your agent’s trying to find you bigger roles right now. They’re bigger than us. They can put in a good word for you.”
Azzi shuts her eyes. Her brows stay furrowed. Something in her stomach tightens a little and then rolls over like the passing of a wave along the shore. There’s still an uncertainty left there, a lasting wetting of where the water had sprayed. She opens her eyes again and lifts her head up to glance over her shoulder. Her daughter is still splashing in the pool, humming loudly to herself, goggles pressed over her eyes. “I dunno. I mean…I just got Kitty. I dunno if the sitter’s available. And I missed her, and she prolly missed me while she was with Paige.” She lowers her head.
Caroline is still looking at her. “I can find you a sitter, Az. Don’t worry about Kitty.” Azzi stays quiet instead of responding. She just looks over at her best friend, listening to the soft sound of the music that can reach them and of Kitty’s playing. Caroline sighs quietly. “Look. If you don’t want to go, no one will hold it against you, obviously. You can totally just stay in and hang out with Kitty. That’s, like, lowkey the dream. I just know this would be a good opportunity for you. Especially ‘cause Emi literally asked about you by name.”
Azzi knows she’s not actually being pressured to do anything. She knows Caroline would understand if she just wanted to spend the night with her daughter. But she also knows that new connections would be good for her. That strengthening a connection with Emi, who is much more known than her, would be good for her. Azzi glances over her shoulder again. Kitty is doing a flip in the pool. Azzi can’t see her head, only the rolling of the water as her body churns within it. “I’ll…text the sitter.”
A small sound of excitement. Azzi laughs a little, turning back to her friend. Caroline smiles at her. Azzi smiles back. Sweat drips down her forehead from her curls. “I’m so excited! Seriously, they’re so much fun, Az. And again, that’s not in the asking-you-to-do-drugs way. I actually just really like them. Oh my God, you’re gonna have so much fun.” Caroline’s genuine enthusiasm makes Azzi feel a little better about her decision. She grins at her, eyes crinkling shut in the sun.
The sound of a larger splash, and then of Kitty taking a long and dramatic breath. Azzi immediately lifts her head to check on her daughter. She’s just standing there in the shallow end, her little arm floaties useless as they hang on her above the waterline. Her goggles hide her eyes from Azzi. “I did five flips, can I have a candy now?”
“Yes,” she and Caroline answer in unison. Azzi looks back over at her again. She can hear Kitty getting out of the pool behind them, water splashing all over the concrete of the deck and her feet slapping wetly. Caroline looks at her with shining eyes. Something in her stomach shifts again. Another wave. Another coming and passing of an anxiety she can’t really place the origin of. Azzi groans a little and then flips back over to her back to tan her front again.
They tan for another hour or so before Caroline calls it time to leave. She tells Azzi to come over around eight and to bring mixers if she loves her. Azzi laughs and assures her she does. She drags Kitty inside to force her to take a bath after the chlorine of their pool has clung to her sweet skin and soft hair. She does her hair and makes her lunch and plays dolls with her for a little while.
And then she takes a shower herself while Kitty colors on the floor of her bedroom. They talk while Azzi does her hair, coaxes it straight and then into soft curls that frame her face. She makes dinner while her hair is pinned up. Kitty makes fun of her for it. Azzi rolls her eyes at her, blowing raspberries and poking her sides until she giggles. It’s a simple meal of pasta and salad. Azzi eats only enough to settle her stomach. Kitty eats until there’s marinara sauce above one of her eyebrows.
The sitter arrives just as Azzi is finishing up her makeup, Kitty sitting next to her at her vanity. She’s a woman a little older than Azzi named Stella who Kitty adores. She’s been watching Kitty since Paige and Azzi were married. Azzi welcomes her in with a hug. Kitty clings to her leg immediately, not really bothered that her mother is leaving. Azzi is left to take down her hair and put on her outfit alone in her room. She leaves just before eight, leaving Kitty with a parting kiss on her cheek. Her lip products press themselves into a print against her skin. The little girl giggles.
Azzi has an unopened box of Diet Cokes in the fridge in her garage. She brings this and a mostly full bottle of club soda into her Uber when it arrives. It’s a sleek little car, deep gray and low to the ground. She fights the urge to make a face when she has to duck so far to slip into the back seat. The man driving doesn’t say anything as she gets in. Just starts driving the moment he hears Azzi’s door click shut, Caroline’s address up on the navigation screen.
She’s not a very far drive from Caroline’s house. Azzi is leaning forward to recite the gate code to the Uber driver after only a few minutes. The driveway is smooth under the tires of the car as they roll towards her front door. Azzi thanks him and slips out of the car. She knocks once, waits a few moments, and then lets herself in.
The foyer is dim around her. The sun is starting to set outside, darkness finding the sweet Californian sky, and the vast windows that allow large amounts of natural light in during the day are left to do most of the heavy lifting while a decorative lamp placed next to a doorway tries to help. “Carol, help me, ‘m carrying a box of sodas and a two-liter. And I just opened the door.” Azzi’s voice rings along the smooth surfaces of Caroline’s house. It’s all marble and glass and concrete. The heels of her boots click as she walks.
“Coming,” Caroline calls from the kitchen. Azzi starts walking towards her, passing into one of the hallways. Caroline meets her there. Her face lights up when she sees Azzi and she immediately reaches to take the box from her hands. “Thank God. I had, like, three cans of Sprite just floating around my fridge and really didn’t feel like going to the store.” She grins a little at Azzi.
Azzi rolls her eyes. Now holding only the club soda, she readjusts her mini purse hanging off of her shoulder and follows Caroline back into the kitchen. “Glad you’re using me for my mixers,” she says, and Caroline just laughs. Azzi smiles a little and reaches a hand down to smooth over her front. She’s wearing an incredibly small top, a halter that is both low cut and cropped, and she had thrown a leather jacket on over it to avoid both Kitty and Stella seeing her dressed like this. Her skirt was small enough to be incriminating anyway. “I’m the first one here, right?”
Caroline hums. “Yeah, but everyone’s actually really chill, so ‘m sure they won’t be, like, extremely late. ‘Cause it’s only gonna be about six of us and then we’re gonna meet up with everyone else at the club.” They make it to the kitchen and Caroline sets the sodas down on the counter next to a large bottle of vodka. It’s a nice brand, one Azzi doesn’t know how to pronounce but can recognize. It’s smooth. She’ll have an easy time drinking.
“How many people then? When we get to the club, I mean?” She sets the bottle of club soda down as she asks. Caroline walks farther into her kitchen, heading towards the cabinets. Azzi just leans up against the counter.
Caroline starts going through her cabinets and collecting both shot glasses and larger cups. She shrugs a little at Azzi’s question. “I think, like, fifteen or twenty. I dunno. It’s not really organized. ‘Cause there’s our pregame group, and then the bigger group we’re gonna hang out with, but there’s an even bigger group of people all going tonight. It’s, like, an event? Kinda? I don’t really know how to explain. There’s just…It’s gonna be a lot of people at this club.” She turns around clutching many glasses. Azzi just laughs a little and walks towards her to help her.
Azzi spends a little while standing around and talking with Caroline. She pours herself a drink, eyeballing two shots and then filling the glass with as much of a can of Diet Coke as will fit. Caroline makes her save the fourth of it that’s left off to the side for an easy chaser, electing to mix her drink with the club soda. True to Caroline’s word, the other girls don’t take very long to show up. Azzi’s barely a third way done with her drink when there’s the echoing noise of many pairs of feet clicking down Caroline’s hallway.
All four of them have come at the same time. They’re all beautiful, skinny and tall with shiny hair and cute outfits. Azzi smiles at them all as they walk into the kitchen and embrace Caroline with familiarity. She feels a little awkward until Emi, the only one of them she’s ever met, starts walking towards her. “Aw, hi, Azzi! How are you? I haven’t seen you in a little,” she says, grinning.
Emi is gorgeous. Devastatingly so, with pale skin and dark hair and full lips. Her lashes are long and they frame her green eyes beautifully. She’s in a dark mini dress, skin shining even in the calm lighting of Caroline’s kitchen, her smile lighting up her entire face. Azzi thinks the only reason she wants so strongly to be friends with her is because her jealousy and her lesbianism cancel each other out to create only a warmth to feel towards her. “Hi, Emi! I’m good, how are you?”
Emi wraps her in a hug. “I’m so good!” It’s said close to her ear and makes her laugh a little, the chatter of the other girls around them joining the noise of the kitchen. Emi pulls back and then looks at her, large eyes sweet as she takes her in. “Wow, you look so good. Your abs are fucking insane, dude.”
Azzi tries not to flush at the compliment, grinning at the other woman. Emi smiles widely back and starts fiddling with the silver arm cuff she wears on one bicep, other arm cutting across her chest and pressing the shadow of her breasts deeper against her skin. “Stop it. You’re saying that? You’re literally bod goals, that dress looks so good on you.” Azzi gestures at her a little as she says it.
Emi scrunches her face at her. “I just love you,” she says, and Azzi laughs, reaching for her drink off of the counter again. Emi turns towards the other three girls she had walked in with as Azzi does this. They’re all standing with Caroline by the drinks, pouring them and talking and laughing. “Oh, guys, this is Azzi. She’s the sweetest, we’re gonna get along so well,” Emi says, drawing everyone’s attention to Azzi.
They all look at her. They’re all smiling, all their teeth perfect and their faces warm. Caroline is all but beaming at her. “Hi,” Azzi says, smiling back. For a moment, Azzi feels her entire body react to the slight hitch in the easiness of all the conversation, feels embarrassment try to reach its greedy fingers out and grab at the hope for a good night that had started to fester within her. But then they all say “hi” back in unison, and then everyone is giggling, and then they’re all introducing themselves and asking Azzi questions and pouring shots. And Azzi thinks Caroline really might have been right about this being good for her.
The pregame lasts until nearly half past nine because they spend so long talking, and then Caroline is calling them an Uber to the club. They’re all pleasantly tipsy. Azzi, Emi, and another girl named Violet have all been laughing over the same unfunny joke for ten minutes by the time they’re all piling into the car. Caroline has been rolling her eyes the entire time. Halle, another one of the girls, snorts occasionally, and Violet acts like getting someone else to laugh at it is some grand feat every time.
Azzi likes them all. She’s fine even when the Uber takes over twenty minutes because, despite the slight unsettled feeling in her stomach from being in a moving vehicle for so long while balancing between tipsy and drunk, she really likes the group. Emi is nice and Violet is funny and Halle won’t stop requesting songs for the Uber driver to play and Calliope, the fourth girl, stumbles over her own feet while they’re getting out of the car and Caroline and Halle laugh so hard they’re both almost crying by the time they’re walking up to the bouncers.
It’s a really nice club. Like, extremely nice, tucked into a corner of Los Angeles not many are allowed into. It’s not a very small building and what surrounds it seems expensively built. There are two bouncers and they look a little terrifying. Calliope leads them up and says something to them that Azzi doesn’t catch, and then they’re being let in, the loud music and dark lighting swallowing them whole.
Azzi grabs onto Caroline’s arm as they walk in. Caroline doesn’t even look twice, just moves her arm a little closer to her body so Azzi’s hand is tucked securely between the top of her elbow and her side and then starts walking farther in. It’s not as packed as the warmth running throughout the entire building would lead Azzi to believe, but there are easily over a hundred people spread throughout the dance floor and the bar and the seating options littered around the outskirts of the room.
“To the bar,” Caroline proclaims over the music, and then they’re walking over to the bar with Halle and Emi. Azzi orders a vodka cran to sit on top of the many shots she’d had at Caroline’s house. She’s hoping the pasta she had eaten with Kitty earlier acts to somehow make sure she doesn’t get sick tonight or tomorrow morning. She knows the whole bread thing is a myth, but maybe carb loading somehow does help. Or maybe she’s just going to have to see that meal again. She doesn’t really care.
When all four of them have their drinks, they find Violet and Calliope standing a few feet away at the bar with another girl and two guys Azzi has never seen before. They intermingle again and introductions are forgotten as conversation spreads like fire licking along alcohol throughout the group. Azzi can’t really get a good look at anyone she’s talking to. She doesn’t really care. Her vodka cran stops burning after two sips.
They start to all wander away from the bar and then split again. Azzi loses Caroline, but she finds Calliope and Emi and sticks with them, the three of them laughing and talking around the music as they try to find a group of people any of them might know. They do find quite a few people. They bounce around groups, talking for a while and visiting the bar a few more times. Azzi is quickly becoming drunk. She has no clue how many shots are in her drink, but she finishes it pretty quickly and thinks the very dim lighting and loud music really are not helping her perceptional skills.
She leaves Calliope and Emi to get another drink without them. She finds Caroline at the bar, thankfully, and immediately slides up next to her best friend. Their hips bump a little. She looks over at her, grinning stupidly, empty glass sitting in front of her on the counter. Caroline whips her head to meet her gaze. “How long have we been here?” Her words slur as they come out of her mouth.
Caroline laughs at her a little, face scrunching slightly as she looks at her. “Dude, how many drinks have you had? You’re acting hammered,” she says, moving her hips to the side to bump Azzi back. Azzi sets her elbows on the bar and leans forward onto them. She can feel how sticky the counter is through the sleeves of her jacket.
She frowns a little. “I only had two since we got here. That’s- I’m confused on that, too, ‘cause I should not be this drunk right now. Like, I’m on track to black out right now.” A bartender starts walking up to Caroline, holding a glass shimmering with condensation. He sets it in front of her and Caroline leans forward to sip from it.
“Don’t black out, bro, you gotta stay normal tonight. We’ve been here-” she checks her watch, “-bout an hour, give or take. You can hold on until, like, one or two?” She nods as she says it as if to convince Azzi to do that. Azzi nods along dumbly. The bartender stays standing in front of them, pausing, waiting to see if Azzi needs anything. It takes her arguably too long to realize that and lean forward to ask for a Diet Coke.
He nods at her and disappears. She fights the urge to take a sip from Caroline’s drink, reminding herself to focus on not getting too drunk. She looks around the dim room as she waits for her soda. There are so many people and they all look a lot more important than Azzi. The dance floor is packed and there are so many people hanging around the bar she’s almost starting to sweat from just standing here. She’ll have to convince someone to go dance with her soon. Violet seems like someone who would feed into that. Azzi keeps scanning the room. And then she stops.
“Oh my God,” she mumbles. Her stomach drops. Caroline turns to look in the direction Azzi is looking in. Azzi is looking at a familiar face. A very, very familiar face. A face she woke up next to for five years. A face who served her divorce papers. “You’re fucking kidding me.” It’s Paige Bueckers’s face. She’s on the other side of the bar, standing next to a group of guys, too busy laughing with them to notice Azzi standing just a little bit away.
Frustratingly, she looks good. Her hair is down in soft waves and she’s wearing a button up that is somehow both masculine and very flattering on her body, the collar of it loose and the top few buttons undone. “What?” She’s holding a drink that shines pink at Azzi when the light hits it right. A Shirley Temple. How mature, to go out clubbing and to order a Dirty Shirley. “Oh, shit, dude.” Azzi really doesn’t like that she isn’t as ugly on the outside as she is on the inside.
Her face is curled in disgust. Azzi looks away and back at Caroline. Her stomach is settling itself in her heels. “This is horrible,” she whines to Caroline. She looks down and sees her Diet Coke has appeared in front of her. She leans forward and takes a sip of it. The carbonation burns down her throat more than she thinks alcohol would. “I just saw her earlier today when we were trading Kitty. But we haven’t, like, actually spoken in deadass months. What the fuck, ‘m gonna have to avoid her so hard all night.” Azzi goes out a lot, but she never sees Paige. Her and Paige run in different circles. Very different, due to their difference in popularity. But Azzi guesses that Caroline’s group isn’t different from Paige’s.
Caroline just shakes her head at her. “‘s fine, Az. She’s a fuckin’ bitch and has other people to bother. Don’t- Okay, don’t get black out, but don’t let her ruin this. Come back with me and talk to this other group, ‘kay?” She leans back off of the bar, taking her drink with her, and grabs at Azzi’s hand to drag her with her. Azzi lets herself be pulled. Stupidly, she takes one last glance back at Paige to make sure she knows spatially where she is. Her drunkenness is making it hard for her to remember where exactly in the room she’ll have to avoid.
Paige is already looking at her. Her blue eyes are steely even from how far away she is, sharp and locking and intimidating. Her face is straight. She’s no longer laughing at whatever she had just been laughing at. She’s just there, face sculpted, the lights dancing over her skin and making her shine like a marble statue. Azzi’s stomach drops farther than it had before. She whips her head away, heart trying to start pounding in her chest, Caroline’s grip on her arm tightening.
She’s pulled away to another group, but the damage is done. Paige knows she’s here and Azzi knows Paige is here. This is the worst, she thinks. She talks in the group with Caroline for a while. She likes all the people there and finds herself slipping into good conversation with them all, slowly forgetting what had just been troubling her. Everyone is funny and most of them are nice and people laugh when she makes jokes. Caroline lets her lean into her when she feels dizzy.
Emi finds them after a while and slides on the other side of Azzi, who appreciates her presence. The group conversation continues for a while until Azzi and Emi find themselves talking alone for a while. She doesn’t finish her Diet Coke, but she wants more alcohol, so she agrees after over half an hour of standing with the same people to go take some shots with Emi. She’s practically sober, anyway. If she squints.
She takes two and then they find Violet. Azzi remembers her earlier thoughts about wanting to dance with her and drags both her and Emi to the dance floor, laughing. She doesn’t recognize the song playing. Doesn’t recognize anyone around her, either, other than the two girls she’s with. But she doesn’t care. She’s having fun and making friends and that’s all that matters. Being drunk makes her oddly sentimental and a little emotional sometimes. She doesn’t even care about connections for work anymore. She just really likes the girls she’s with.
A tap on her shoulder. Azzi turns around a little slowly, unsteady on her feet. It’s Paige. Her breath hitches in surprise and something almost like fear. Her eyes widen on her face. She squints a little to focus, trying to block out all of the background noise and all of the background people. It feels like her first time trying to actually process where she is in a while. Her mind starts feeling fuzzy. Her heartbeat picks up in her chest.
It hurts a little, to be looking at her like this. It hurts every time Azzi sees her anywhere. It’s a burning pain, like there’s a lighter being pressed against her skin, warm and bright and charring her until she’s crumbling. It’s complicated. Azzi doesn’t like her and she knows this about herself. But they were married for five years and had been dating for four before that, and so she thinks part of her subconscious will always be upset at her for not liking her. She was in love with her from the time she was fifteen to the time she was twenty-four. A year of being divorced won’t soothe that pain, but it will harbor resentment with it.
Paige is almost frowning at her. Her brows are slightly furrowed, eyes squinted. The blue of her irises still cuts into Azzi despite the horrible lighting. Her lips are a little pursed. “What are you…Why are you here?” The words slur. She’s drunk. And it’s the stupidest question Azzi thinks she’s ever heard.
She all but scowls at Paige, mimicking her expression but deeper. The multicolor lights dance across her face and make her feel a little dizzier than she already was. “To get drunk? Why are you here?” She squints at her.
Paige just looks at her dumbly for a moment. Her expression doesn’t change. Something familiar, a deep rooted anger directed towards Paige, starts trying to spark itself back to life like an old lighter. Paige’s brows furrow farther. The sharp edge of her brow bone casts shadows into her eye sockets. She looks so chiseled in this light. It irritates Azzi. “Where’s Kitty?”
Once again, a stupid question. Her patience with Paige was already a short fuse and she can feel that it’s burnt itself out. “With Stella, Paige. What’s your problem?” She shouts to get it heard over the music playing, the sound of people talking and laughing and dancing all around them.
Paige shakes her head once, pauses, and then shakes it again. “No, I just- Like, I’ve never seen you here before. And I thought you would’ve missed Kitty.”
This irritates Azzi. She looks at her in the dim lighting of the club and glares at her. Her stomach is low in her body, uneasiness crawling within her. A silent predator. A loud threat, her skin shining blue in the lights. “The hell? I did miss Kitty. You’re telling me you’ve never gone out on a Saturday night?”
Paige shakes her head again. It drops a little, eyes still leveled on Azzi. Her gaze feels like it’s slicing through the thickness of the air between her and drawing razor-thin cuts into her skin where it can, warm blood beading to the surface. “Not when I have Kitty. She’s more important.”
More anger douses Azzi. She fights the urge to point a finger into Paige’s chest and let her nail dig into the soft flesh of her sternum, instead opting to glower at her even harder. “Do not go fucking guilt tripping me, Bueckers. Why’re you even coming up to me to tell me this?” She’s yelling at her at this point. The sound of it is barely louder than that of what’s around them.
And for a moment, Paige really does pause, just looking at her with sharp eyes and a sharp face. Her head drops again, all the way to her feet. “‘Cause- Ugh, it’s not even the point.” It’s not shouted. Azzi barely hears it, thinks she might have even heard it wrong. Paige looks up again. Nods her head in the direction of the space over Azzi’s shoulders, her eyes still on Azzi. “I hate her. Violet. Like, ‘m just tryna…get you away from her. I’m not actually tryna guilt trip you over Kitty or anything.”
Azzi scowls at her. “Dude, what the fuck? She’s my fucking friend. I don’t care if you hate her.” She looks behind herself to find the girl. Violet is a few feet away from Azzi, still dancing with Emi, her blunt bob a little bit of a mess now as she moves. There are bodies passing through Azzi’s line of sight, but she can still make out the carefree shape of her. She seems nice. She doesn’t like that Paige is inserting herself into this.
She whips her head around again. Paige, if anything, is just standing closer to her, glaring at her. Azzi feels warm. She can’t tell if it’s more the alcohol or her anger. “Oh my God, I’m literally trying to do something nice for you. She’s- Azzi, she’s a heroin addict, she got a bunch of my friends addicted. Adult peer pressure ‘n shit. It’s not even about you. I just don’t want Kitty to have an addict for a mother.”
This comment burns the same way looking at Paige does. She thinks she’ll be a pile of ashes when she finally gets to leave this stupid club tonight, the same as a stubbed out cigarette. She narrows her eyes and furrows her brows. “Well, in your books, she already fucking does, right?” The words spit themselves out of her mouth.
Paige scowls. “There’s a difference between nicotine and heroin and even you know that, you fucking asshole. I’d rather you just be vaping all the time than fuckin’ shooting up.” She talks a little with her hands. She does that when she’s drunk. Azzi used to find it endearing. Now she hates it, the way the silver rings adorning her fingers shine when they catch the light.
“I wouldn’t even do heroin. You know I’m getting clean, and even if I wasn’t, ‘m not stupid enough to do fucking heroin.” Azzi says this loudly, matter-of-factly, and stares at Paige. Paige does not show any signs of agreement. She just pauses, still looking at her, eyes still angry. And then one brow raises. Anger flares within Azzi, who fights the urge to genuinely reach out and hit her. “Oh, fuck you. I’m going to the bathroom.” She brushes past her.
Azzi has never been here before. She doesn’t know where the bathroom is. But she’s also drunk, and incredibly stubborn, and so even though she doesn’t need to use it, she’s determined to find it. The large amount of people crowding her makes it hard for her to orient herself. She can barely hear anything, music pounding in her ears, alcohol making her sluggish. She wanders around the perimeter of the building for a minute or so until she finds it: a little opening in the wall to a short hallway, a small sign that says restrooms.
She walks down the hallway and into the women’s restroom. It’s not as dark in here, but still is. There are lights bordering the long mirror that stretches the length of a few sinks and they’re only barely bright enough to light the place. The music is still playing in here. Azzi thinks she can hear voices in the bathroom, can see people over at the other end of the mirror, but she doesn’t really care to fully check.
Azzi leans over the sink to look in the mirror and check her appearance. She looks fine. Drunk, but fine. The lighting so close to her face makes her squint a little. She wipes at her under eyes to move away some crumbling mascara that darkens the skin there. Her heart rate starts to slow. It isn’t exactly peaceful in here, but it’s not the dance floor, and so she lets herself calm a little bit.
She’s not going to get black out. She’s not going to let Paige ruin her night. She starts rubbing her thumb along the outline of her lips to smooth her lip liner back into place. She can’t even really process anything, is too drunk to really realize how weird that interaction was. Other than a few clipped text threads entirely about Kitty, they haven’t spoken in months. And just as she’s thinking this, she watches in the mirror as the bathroom door opens and Paige walks in, features shining and sharp in the lights.
Azzi immediately is exasperated. Her heart starts beating quicker again. She doesn’t want to talk to her anymore. They make eye contact through the mirror. In the slightly better lighting of the bathroom, her eyes cut her that much more. Azzi immediately turns around herself and starts walking towards the stalls, determined to lock herself in the nearest one until Paige leaves. But Paige grabs her wrist. “I was trying to be nice. For Kitty.” Azzi ignores her and steps into a stall, expecting Paige to let go and step away. But she doesn’t. She steps in.
The door closes behind Paige. The bathroom stall is more spacious than she had been expecting, the black tile floor stretching out enough to at least give her enough space to writhe in Paige’s grip until she lets go and then turn around to glare at her. “Insinuating I’d become a heroin addict isn’t nice.” She reaches out to shove at her chest. Her heart rate is climbing again.
Paige scowls at her. Azzi feels warm all over, the alcohol and her anger flushing her. She catches Azzi’s arm easily and holds it tighter than earlier. The music vibrates through their feet. Paige’s eyes flicker down to Azzi’s chest. Azzi flushes even warmer for some reason. She furrows her brows, reaching her other hand up to try and hit her again. “Dude, get over yourself. You-” Paige cuts herself off as she reaches her other hand to grab Azzi.
And then she’s stuck, both wrists in Paige’s grip, glaring at her. Paige looks at her chest again. Her mouth is parted with the ghost of words she had stopped herself from saying. Silence, or as close to silence as they can get in the dim bathroom of a crowded club, fits itself between them. Paige looks back up from her chest. Her eyes are sharp. Azzi licks her lips, tongue running slowly. Paige stares at her. Her grip on her wrists is tight.
And very suddenly, Azzi realizes two things about herself. One, she really does hate Paige. And two, she needs her mouth on her own immediately.
Azzi starts trying to struggle in her grip again. She then feels Paige pushing her until her back finds the wall of the stall, which she feels surprisingly runs all the way from the floor to above her head. Paige is so close to her. Azzi feels hot all over. Her hands are still restrained. She looks at Paige and Paige is glowering back at her, the distance between them so small, her lips still parted and her eyes blown but still narrowed. “Fuck you,” Azzi spits, eyes lidded, and then Paige is surging forward and connecting their lips.
It’s messy and biting and familiar in a way that just makes Azzi angrier. Her head hits a little against the stall wall. Paige bites her bottom lip and opens up her mouth, tongue finding hers. It’s bruising. Azzi fights the urge to moan into her mouth. Their teeth are clashing. Her hands are still held out by Paige’s, grip tight on her wrists. She likes it. Paige presses herself farther against her mouth and forces her to open her mouth more. Azzi gives in immediately, but not without biting one of Paige’s lips. Paige groans.
Azzi feels fuzzy. Warmth is still spreading itself throughout her entire body, smooth and distracting and paired with a sharper fire that makes Azzi continue to lick and bite at Paige as the kiss. The music drowns out the sounds of them making out until their heavy breathing and soft noises are only for them to hear in the bathroom stall of the club.
She feels Paige’s grip start relaxing on her hands. Mouths still connected, without thinking, Azzi pulls them down and immediately gropes Paige’s chest through the fabric of her t-shirt. The fat of her breasts is soft and malleable in her harsh grip. Paige groans into her mouth, entire body twitching involuntarily. Azzi likes it. She lets her fingernails dig into her. Paige reaches and squeezes the swell of her ass so hard she nearly cries out. Her hands roll the muscle there easily. Azzi kisses her harder.
It’s so, so messy. Azzi’s head tips back a little against the stall wall and she feels her hair getting tousled, feels her entire body opening up with the swarm of all that she feels. She moves her hands from Paige’s chest down to her abdomen. Sticks them under the hem of her shirt, drags her nails along her lower abs, feeling the catch of her smooth skin against them. Paige squeezes her ass again so hard it hurts. Azzi arches off the wall a little, a soft sound dumping itself onto Paige’s tongue. The blonde swallows it.
Paige’s hands leave her ass. Travel up until she’s at her chest, squeeze there once. Azzi moans at the feeling. And then they reach up farther, behind her neck, and Azzi feels her start picking at the bow the straps of her top are tied into at the nape of her neck. She can feel how she’s fumbling to do it from under her jacket, how being drunk and blinded makes her actions messy. Azzi does nothing to help her. She just flattens her hands against Paige’s stomach and kneads the muscle of her abs, still scratching her nails.
The top comes undone eventually, and then Azzi is gasping into Paige’s mouth at the feeling of fabric being peeled away from her breasts. The straps are left to hang below her chest. Cold air finds her. She can feel her nipples peak. She hadn’t even worn covers with this top and starts to regret it as she writhes a little under Paige’s touch, her hands sliding to grab her still clothed sides and the skin of her bare chest prickling with the cold.
Paige’s mouth leaves hers. Azzi is gasping for air, head still tipped back against the stall. Paige’s mouth connects with her skin again as she finds her nipple and rolls her tongue over it before sucking it into her mouth. The heat of her mouth is so different from the chill of the bathroom air that she can’t help but moan a little at the feeling of it, the way the muscle of her tongue feels against her skin. She digs her nails into Paige’s skin again.
Paige hums a little against her nipple and then moves to start pressing wet kisses against the skin around it. She’s not gentle with it, teeth scraping a little against her, the warm wetness of her mouth too pleasing for Azzi to fully push her away. She moves one of her hands where it is against her abs and lets it reach up to Paige’s hair, gripping it. Paige hums against her again. “Fuck,” Azzi breathes, voice tight.
Paige reaches and starts rolling her other nipple between her thumb and forefinger. Azzi arches off of the wall again, a strangled sound escaping her when she can’t swallow a moan all the way in time. It sounds like Paige laughs into her skin. It’s infuriating. She tugs a little on Paige’s hair just to listen to her keen a little into Azzi. The music continues to thump itself through their feet, the darkness of the bathroom secluding them.
Azzi feels Paige bite down particularly hard on her skin and then start sucking. The latch of it is familiar, the way her entire body tries to lean into the feeling of the pleasure and pain of it. “Stop it, do not- fuck, don’t give me a fucking hickey, Paige,” Azzi forces out, pulling a little harder on her hair. Paige groans a little into it but continues sucking her skin. Azzi pulls her away until she can’t keep her breast in her mouth any longer.
Her hand is still in Paige’s hair. The blonde’s eyes open and they’re hooded and blown, still so sharp and so blue. Azzi can tell even through the dark that her skin is flushed. Her lips, especially, are swollen and a deeper color than they usually are. They’re slicked with spit. And they’re curved into a smirk that only fuels the heat within Azzi, brows furrowing, abs tightening. It’s a sleazy look. She looks good anyway. “You like it when I bite, though, princess,” she drawls. It’s mean. Azzi’s cunt twitches.
She tightens her grip on her hair again. Watches as Paige silently leans into the action, body still pressing in on Azzi’s space as she submits a little to Azzi’s touch. “You don’t know anything,” Azzi spits. Her chest is rising and falling quickly, her breast wet with Paige’s spit. Paige stays grinning at her cockily with lidded eyes.
“Yes, I do.” Azzi feels the bottom of her skirt shift. Feels a hand, warm and prying and malicious, groping at her panties until they’re pushed to the side. Can only gasp and look down to watch as Paige shoves a finger inside of her without warning. The worst part is that Azzi is so wet that it goes in easily. She curls it immediately and Azzi’s walls hug it, a broken moan slipping from her mouth. “This pussy still mine, even if you don’t like that,” Paige rasps. It’s close to her ear.
Azzi’s eyes shut. She leans her head back again, mouth parted, throat exposed. She feels like prey leaving itself vulnerable in front of the predator. Paige moves closer to her until the point of her nose is pressing into her neck. Her finger is still just sitting inside of Azzi. She clenches involuntarily around it. “Fuck you,” she gasps, eyes squinted shut.
Paige pulls her finger out a little and then thrusts it back in. It warms her entire being. She grits her teeth as a moan tries to pull itself out of her. “Yeah, you’d like that, hmm?” It’s said low and close to her ear. Paige thrusts her finger into her again. It’s so close to her g-spot already that Azzi feels her abdomen start to curl in on itself, anticipation building within her. It feels good. She’s so angry she’s almost more blinded by it than she is by the lack of good lighting in the bathroom.
While Paige might know her body well from the years they spent together, Azzi knows Paige’s body just as well. It used to be an instrument to be played, something soft she revered and would drag sweetness out of. It’s no longer anything to her but something to use. Leaving one hair twisted in Paige’s hair, she drags her other one out from against her abs and brings it to her mouth. She spits onto the pads of her fingers, body tensing as Paige fucks her finger into her again. She reaches down, shoves her hand into Paige’s pants and boxers, and then surges down until her hand finds the hood of her clit.
It’s swollen. Her want is tangible and it makes Azzi fuzzy, pleased with herself. Paige grunts quietly when her fingers make contact with the bundle of nerves. She quickly picks up the pace of her fingering, Azzi’s cunt already starting to weep against the digit. Azzi bites the inside of her cheek and starts to circle Paige’s clit. It’s not gentle, but neither is Paige. It’s messy with the spread of her saliva and what of Paige’s slick that had spread from her entrance through her folds.
Paige groans close to her ear at the feeling. It’s tight, clearly involuntary. Azzi can barely bask in it because of how tight her entire body is getting at the feeling of Paige’s finger sliding in and out of her, the way she’s so wet and it’s so obvious. She stays leaning into the wall behind her, head digging into it. She continues to trace quick circles against Paige’s clit. Her fingers are ruthless. So are Paige’s.
Her breathing is quick. Paige is still leaning over her, but Azzi can tell her body is leaning more and more into Azzi’s touch, hips tilting, her clit needy against Azzi’s fingers. Azzi is arching off of the wall again at the feeling of Paige’s finger in her. She’s panting, breath never coming back to her after they had made out, heart rate only climbing as Paige fucks her finger in and out of her. She slides it all the way out and then adds another. Azzi can’t stop the moan that falls out of her mouth from the fullness.
It feels good. She shuts her mouth and grits her teeth again, eyes screwed up. She clenches a little around Paige’s fingers. “You have to be quieter. Getting fucked in a public bathroom and you’re moaning that loud. You’re being a brat,” Paige says close to her ear. It’s low and biting and some of the words waver with the threat of a moan. Azzi’s body burns at it, both with pleasure and anger. Her abs tighten. She opens her eyes to glare at Paige’s head.
She pulls hard on her hair, nails scratching a little on her scalp, the yank pulling her a little farther from Azzi’s neck. A strangled sound escapes Paige’s mouth. Azzi grinds the pads of her fingers down particularly hard on Paige’s clit to pair with the bite of her hair pulling. “Oh, but I’m the loud one?” She’s still breathing hard around the words as she says them, eyes narrow, mouth parted slightly.
“Shut the fuck up,” Paige rasps, bringing her head closer to Azzi’s, fingers still pumping in and out of her. Azzi can feel herself growing wetter and wetter, folds and entrance slick and smearing onto her underwear and inner thighs. She can hear the wet sound of Paige fucking her. She thinks, if she focuses hard enough, she can hear herself rubbing Paige’s clit, too. But it’s hard to focus. She’s so drunk and her body is buzzing and pleasure is wrapping itself around her like a thick vine, choking her out.
Azzi keeps her grip on Paige’s hair tight because she knows it will bring Paige closer to her orgasm than Azzi is to her own. She thinks that’s the only part that’s feeding the anger within her, placating it enough to allow herself to squirm as Paige fucks her fingers into her: that she knows she can make Paige cum before she does. She’s already embarrassingly close to her own orgasm, because as much as she hates her, Paige is right in thinking Azzi likes it when she’s mean. The bathroom is dark around them. Azzi rolls her hips a little in time with Paige’s thrusts.
Paige leans farther into her, mouth finding her neck. Her teeth scrape a little along her skin. Azzi’s hand feels like it’s burning with how focused she is on circling Paige’s clit with slick fingers, pressing deep into the bud. Paige presses open-mouthed kisses against the skin of her collarbone, Azzi’s body tingling where she touches her. “Fuck,” she breathes, holding her breath to keep from moaning again. Paige’s fingers start prodding deeper parts of her. The spongy sweetness of her insides welcome the touch, her face screwing up. Her chest starts rising and falling quicker. Paige’s face stays close to it.
“You like it, huh?” Paige’s voice wobbles a little with the heaviness of her breathing. Azzi, despite the way her entire body feels like it’s melting to putty against her, smiles a little to herself at the way she sounds. She pulls a little again on her hair. “Shit,” Paige mumbles into her skin. Her hips are rolling a little with the movement of Azzi’s fingers. She can feel her slick leaking all around her folds and finding her clit as Azzi continues to rub it. She knows Paige won’t last much longer. She also knows, however, that she won’t, either.
They lose their voices again and are left to continue fucking each other to the sound of the music thumping through the building, the catch and release of their own heavy breathing, the sound of fingers sliding against slick. Paige seems like she’s almost losing her balance, rocking a little on her feet as Azzi’s fingers circle between her legs. Her breathing is shakier and shakier. Azzi can feel herself getting wound tighter and tighter as Paige’s fingers keep pumping in and out of her.
Paige shudders. Her entire body catches and stills for a moment, even her fingers pausing where they are inside of Azzi. A choked moan presses itself into the bare skin of Azzi’s chest. Triumph, bright but not sharp enough to cut through the hazy cloud of pleasure that has wrapped itself around Azzi, starts leaking into her chest. Her abdomen is still tight with the promise of a release she chases, the same release that has just found Paige.
Paige leans a little farther into her and Azzi reaches her hand down from her clit to her entrance. A warm wetness finds her where it’s leaking from there. Azzi rubs her fingers along the outside of Paige’s slit, teasing her walls, collecting her cum onto her fingertips. She smears it through her folds and brings it back to her clit again, working her through the orgasm. Paige groans and then continues to finger Azzi. Her movement feels almost desperate. Azzi holds her breath to keep from whimpering.
She’s close. She’s so close, and her hand is between Paige’s legs and covered in her cum, and Paige is still fingering her and making soft noises by her ear, and her nipples are still hard and her top is still halfway off of her in the darkness of the bathroom stall. Paige moves her mouth down to suck one of her nipples into her mouth again and Azzi arches off of the wall again at the feeling. Her head tips back. Her grip in Paige’s hair is tight. Paige shudders again and then hums a little against her nipple, a small and slightly pained noise. Her free hand tugs at Azzi’s wrist, the one connected to the hand still rubbing her clit. Azzi pulls her hand out of Paige’s pants.
But Paige doesn’t let go of her wrist. She keeps her hold on it, dragging it higher up in the air. Azzi just lets her. She’s so close to her orgasm that she’s nearly writhing against the wall, her tit in Paige’s mouth, her walls convulsing around the feeling of Paige’s fingers. Paige releases her nipple from her mouth. Azzi angles her head back down and sees that Paige is looking at her through hooded eyes and a parted mouth. Fingers still pumping in and out of her, Paige holds Azzi’s own fingers up to her face. She angles them towards her mouth. Azzi obliges.
The feeling of Paige pressing Azzi’s cum-slicked fingers into her own mouth through her lips is enough to send her tumbling over the edge. She cums with her own fingers in her mouth, Paige’s slick wetting her tongue, entire body tightening. A moan tries to force itself out of her and is caught by her fingers. She looks up through her lashes at Paige, who is standing straight up in front of her. Her eyes are lidded, lips slick and parted, looking at Azzi. She tightens around Paige’s fingers again.
Her orgasm shakes her for a little, Paige continuing to fuck her through it. She gently pulls Azzi’s fingers out of her mouth after a few moments and lets her take a gasping breath that she tries futilely to muffle. Her head tips back again and digs farther into the wall behind her. She feels fuzzy, legs weak, body trembling a little bit against Paige.
After a little, Paige pulls her fingers out of Azzi. She doesn’t like the loss but doesn’t react. Her panties are still pulled to the side, the bottom of her skirt still pushed up. Paige doesn’t fix them. Azzi’s too floaty to think to do it herself. She watches through the dim space between them as Paige holds her hand up again. Her fingers shine with Azzi’s slick. She pushes them towards Azzi’s mouth. And again, Azzi does nothing to fight back.
She takes Paige’s fingers into her mouth and sucks on them, tasting herself off of Paige’s skin. Paige just watches her with the same expression as before. The air between them is thick. They’re both still out of breath. Azzi runs her tongue all around the pads of her fingers. “Yeah,” Paige breathes, so quiet Azzi almost doesn’t hear it over the thumping of the music still reaching into the bathroom.
Paige pulls her fingers out of Azzi’s mouth. Looks at her for a moment longer with her sharp eyes and her wet lips and her body still clearly coming down from its high. Azzi stares back at her from where she leans up against the wall of the stall. Through the fuzz of her pleasure and her inebriation, she feels the familiar bite of her hate starting to make itself known again through the need that still washes over her. Paige’s jaw shifts a little and she swallows. Azzi watches it happen, watches as her sharp features shift and her throat bobs.
And then Paige leaves the stall. There is not another word exchanged between them. She just opens the door and walks out into the rest of the bathroom, door cracking open, and Azzi just stands there and watches for a moment before she remembers the state of herself and leans to the side to put a hand out and slam the stall door shut again. She looks down. Her top is still undone, tits hanging out, her skirt rucked very far up herself. She looks a mess. She leans her head back and screws her face up.
She just fucked Paige. Azzi just got invited out by people much more influential than her to a club much nicer than anything she’s ever been allowed into and she went to the bathroom and fucked her ex-wife. The music beats itself through the soles of her boots. Azzi looks down again at herself, at the way her skin is still shiny with Paige’s drying spit and there’s a dark mark low on one of her breasts. She doesn’t even feel shame yet. Just irritation, her displeasure towards Paige prowling low in her stomach the same way the promise of her orgasm had minutes prior.
This very much complicates things. She thinks of Kitty, of the slightly awkward way they had settled on raising her, and of all of her friends outside the bathroom, the people she had just met who she’ll have to face knowing she just let herself get fingered by her ex in the club bathroom. Sighing a little to herself, Azzi stumbles forward a little and reaches towards the toilet paper to start trying to wipe herself down.
[ note. ] — happy birfday to my man !!! (ik i’m late but technically it’s still the 14th here so idc) anyway, hope u liked this <3
it was jisung’s birthday, and he was sulking.
he’d been sulking since he woke up, really. the second he rolled over in bed and checked his phone, he knew something was wrong. no text from you. no cute little “happy birthday” spam, no emojis, no selfies. just pure silence. he tried to brush it off, convinced you’d say something later, but the longer the day dragged on the heavier it sat in his chest. by the afternoon, he was buried in his sweatshirt, hunched over his gaming chair with his glasses slipping down his nose, clicking through menus without actually starting a game. his discord was open, but none of his servers felt fun and his dms were dry. his phone sat face-up on the desk like it was mocking him, the black screen showing nothing.
he kept glancing at it anyway, every five minutes to be exact. hoping that maybe a text would pop up and there’d be an explanation about you being busy, but there was nothing. nothing all day.
jeongin leaned against the doorway at one point, holding a bag of takis. jisung could feel him staring.
“dude, are you seriously ignoring me because your girlfriend didn’t say happy birthday?”
jisung didn’t answer. didn’t even look at him. he just mumbled, voice muffled under the hood, “she forgot,” and pulled his knees closer to his chest in the chair.
jeongin shifted, crunching a chip between his teeth. “maybe she’s busy,” he offered, but it didn’t sound convincing enough.
jisung’s only response was a dramatic sigh, the kind that made his whole chest sink, turning further away like that would block out the world. he refused to talk to him for the rest of the night, ignored every comment jeongin tried to throw his way, only moving when he cracked open another can of mountain dew code red. the can hissed loudly as he popped the tab, the cherry-syrup smell filling the room, and he grimaced but drank it anyway.
his brain wouldn’t stop looping the same thoughts. you forgot. maybe you didn’t care as much as he thought. maybe you were out with your friends, laughing about something he wasn’t invited to. he hated that it stung so much, hated that he was counting the hours and staring at his phone like some pathetic loser, but he couldn’t stop. he felt small, unimportant, stupid for even expecting something.
he was convinced you didn’t love him anymore.
so when there was a knock on his door close to midnight, jisung dragged himself up with all the energy of a dying man, fully expecting a food delivery gone to the wrong dorm. his heart wasn’t ready for it to actually be you.
standing there in one of his t-shirts you cut into a crop top and a tiny skirt, holding a bag in one hand and a cake box in the other, smiling at him like nothing was wrong.
jisung froze in the doorway, blinking hard. “…no way.”
“surprise, loser.”
his mouth opened, closed, opened again but nothing came out. his whole face turned red, stumbling back to let you in. he couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t make his brain catch up to what was happening.
“you really thought i’d forget?” you teased, setting the cake down on his desk.
he blinked rapidly, throat tight. “i… i thought you did. i didn’t want to be a brat about it, but i was… i was kinda sad.” his voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word, making him want to curl up and disappear.
“dummy,” you said softly, reaching up to ruffle his hair. then you pulled out a wrapped box from the bag and shoved it into his hands. “here, happy birthday.”
he took the box from you with shaking hands, staring at it for a moment before ripping the paper away. it wasn’t neat— it was frantic, his fingers tugging at the taped edges, the crumpled wrapping falling onto the floor without a second thought. when the cardboard was finally exposed and he saw what was actually inside, his knees nearly gave out right there, the weight of it hitting him all at once.
“no freaking way..”
his voice was barely above a whisper, high-pitched and uneven. sitting in his lap was the limited edition one piece lego pirate ship, pristine and untouched. jisung kept staring at the box, then looking up at you with wide eyes, then staring down at it again, repeating the motion as if double-checking reality itself.
a shaky laugh escaped his throat, then immediately dropped his face into his hands, covering it completely.
“how did you- these sold out in, like, an hour! did you wait in line? baby, oh my god.” the words tumbled out too fast, one tripping over the next. his voice was climbing higher with every sentence, breaking in places he couldn’t control. “i don’t deserve you. i love you. i love you so much. i’m gonna build this tonight. no, tomorrow. oh my god, i could cry.”
he wasn’t exaggerating. his eyes were glassy, threatening to spill over, his chest rising and falling quickly as if he was trying not to break down over legos. the way his fingers clutched at the box, like someone might snatch it away if he wasn’t careful, made your chest ache.
you giggled softly, leaning down to tug his hands away from his face. “yeah, i waited hours for some fuckass legos, so you better appreciate it.”
jisung’s mouth fell open slightly, lips trembling between a laugh and a sob, wiping his eyes with the palm of his hand like he didn’t want you to notice. “i do! i appreciate it so much, you’re the best girlfriend in the world. i swear i’m never letting you go.” his voice cracked again on the last part, and he looked down quickly, cringing at himself.
you leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to his lips, then without warning dipped your finger into the frosting on the cake sitting on his desk. you brought it to your mouth, licking it off slow, letting your tongue curl around the sweetness before pulling it back between your lips.
jisung’s eyes went wide instantly, locked onto your mouth. his breath hitched audibly, and you could see the way his cock strained against the fabric of his pants, already betraying him.
“you want your real present?” you asked quietly, pulling your t-shirt off your shoulders.
underneath was a set of lingerie so pretty it almost looked too soft for what you had planned. pale pink lace hugged your skin, delicate bows sitting just above the cups, the thin fabric barely covering your tits. the bra was see-through enough that your nipples peeked through, the lace more for decoration than functionality. the straps were dainty, ribbon-thin, one slipping off your shoulder as you shifted. the matching panties were low-cut with more intricate lace along the sides, a tiny bow right at the front where the fabric dipped.
jisung’s jaw dropped and his whole body went stiff. his face was already red from the legos, but now it was spreading all the way down his neck, blotching pink across his chest. his knees actually wobbled.
“oh my god,” he uttered, voice breaking into a whine. “baby, are you.. fuck, are you serious? you’re actually trying to kill me.” his hand twitched against his thigh, unsure if he should cover his mouth, push his glasses up, or reach out and touch you.
he ended up doing none of those things, just sitting there staring like he’d never seen you before in his life. the outline of his cock was much more prominent now, swelling beneath the cling of his sweats as he let out a broken inhale.
“i c-can’t—” he stuttered, words coming out all jumbled, “i don’t even know what to- holy shit, you’re so so pretty, fuck.”
you sat on the desk, spreading your legs, scooping frosting onto your tits and smearing it around in slow circles. “come here, birthday boy.”
jisung obeyed instantly, dropping to his knees, licking at the mess like he hadn’t eaten in days. his tongue dragged over your nipples, sticky and sweet, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to bruise.
“mmh..so sweet,” he moaned, frosting on his lips. “you taste better than cake. i love you. i love you so much.”
you kept feeding him little bites of cake between kisses, coating more frosting on your fingers and letting him suck them clean. he moaned around them, eyes glazed over and lips shiny with sugar and spit. everytime you shifted against the desk, his cock jumped under his sweats, straining so hard against his pants. when you palmed him through the cloth the pressure was almost painful, he whined so loud you had to cover his mouth with your hand, giggling at how needy he sounded.
when you finally tugged him up and pushed him onto the bed, he went willingly, eyes wide and dazed. you peeled off his clothes piece by piece until he was flushed, trembling, cock leaking across his stomach. you wrapped your hand around him and started pumping slow, spreading his precum down the shaft, stroking him just tight enough to make his back arch, his head tipping back into the pillows.
“oh shit—” his thighs jerked, hips chasing your fist, precum already dripping down your hand. he tried to hold back, but his brain was spinning.
she’s touching me, she’s really touching me, no one else, just her. she chose me. i can’t lose it yet, i can’t—
“b-baby, wait- fuck, ‘m close already, please, i don’t wanna cum yet, i want- i want inside—” he babbled, hips bucking into your fist. his voice was thin and whiny, cracking every other word. you didn’t stop, squeezing him tighter at the base, thumbing his slit and grinning when his eyes rolled back.
“you like that?” you teased softly, leaning down to kiss his jaw. “so worked up over my hand? you think you deserve more than this?”
“yes, fuck, yes, i’ll be good, i’ll do anything, just let me, pleaseee, put it in, i need it so bad—” his panted, beads of sweat forming on his temple, hair sticking to his forehead.
you pulled your panties aside and straddled him, grinding down on his cock without letting him slip in. the fabric of your lace panties dragged against his shaft with every roll of your hips, wetting him with your slick but keeping him out. jisung practically sobbed.
“baby, please, just a little, just the tip, please? i’m losing my mind, you’re so mean to me—” his hands clawed at your hips, nails digging crescents into your skin.
you smirked down at him, grinding even harder, and he whined again, cock twitching helplessly against your folds. and finally, when you shifted and sank down slow, his mouth dropped open instantly.
“so warm.. so tight.. i’m gonna—”
you clamped a hand over his mouth before he could finish, and halfway down you stopped, holding yourself still. he let out a broken whimper, muffled behind your palm. his eyes were glossy, teeth gnawing at bottom his lip.
don’t move, don’t cum, don’t ruin this. i have to be good. i have to last for her.
“please, don’t stop, please let me cum, i can’t- i can’t hold it—” his words came out muffled and fast, hips rocking up against you in tiny thrusts.
instead you pulled back up, grinding over his length again dragging your clit against his cock until you were gasping too. jisung was wrecked already, his hair an absolute mess, lips swollen from biting down.
and then, without warning, you slammed down on him fully and started bouncing. jisung’s brain shut off completely, every thought drowned out by the feel of your pussy gripping him raw. his hands shot to your tits, frosting still smeared across your skin as he groped them desperately. you see his glasses tilting and your hand comes up to fix them back in place.
“baby, baby- fuck, i can’t, i’m gonna..oh my god—” jisung’s body tensed, cock pulsing as he spilled deep inside you. it hit him so hard he almost passed out, cum flooding your pussy in thick spurts.
you didn’t stop. you rode him through it until he was crying, sticky white dripping down your thighs, contrasting with the frosting that was caked across your chest.
he was shaking under you, overstimulated, cock still hard and twitching inside your soaked pussy. his voice broke as he clung to you. “too much- don’t stop though- please don’t stop, it’s so good, i’m yours, i’m only yours—”
when he came again, it was even messier, spilling over, leaking down his thighs, your skin sticky with cum.
when you finally slowed, he was shaking under you, panting hard, voice breaking into soft whimpers. you leaned down, kissed him sweetly, frosting and spit mixing on your lips.
his body went limp as he fell back, sweaty and ruined, cock still twitching from the aftershocks. his chest heaved, but his arms stayed wrapped tight around your waist. “best birthday ever,” he whispered hoarsely, “i love you. can’t believe you’re mine.”
you giggled, brushing the damp hair from his forehead, and he looked up at you, dazed and pink.
“…do you wanna…build the legos with me? together?”
Hii I was thinking about Joe x reader where reader likes joe alot but! they were friends and she used hang out with him all the time in his studio even when to his concert all the time.until he started dating his ex yk and she thought about putting distance between them like and there's alot of drama her ignoring Joe, arguements, and stuff like lots of angst 😔💔 and then they confess in the heavy rain OOOO HELLYEAH AND STARTS DATING!(oh and Joe likes her too but was scared to ruin whatever they had) It's so long but yh!! U WRITE SO GOOD LOVE U QUEEN!!!
“heavy rain confession”
☆ joe keery x fem!reader ☆
hi !! thank u so much for the request :( had this one in my drafts for a few days, and thank you for the detailing haha makes it much easier. english isn’t my first language and i’m still learning, so sorry if there are mistakes or weird sentences <3 requests are always open btw !!
summary: you and joe have always been inseparable, until he starts dating someone else and suddenly the place you used to have in his life doesn’t feel like yours anymore. after months of tension, arguments, and avoiding each other, everything finally explodes during one of joe’s concerts in the pouring rain.
word count: 2.9k
warnings: angst, jealousy, arguments, miscommunication, crying, happy ending, friends to lovers, rain kissing scene, no use of y/n
You used to joke that Joe’s studio had become your second apartment.
At some point, it stopped being a joke.
You knew where he kept the extra guitar strings, knew which mugs were clean and which ones he always reused without washing first, knew exactly how loud he liked the speakers before it became “too loud to think.” You knew the code to get into the building because he got tired of coming downstairs every single time you showed up with iced coffee and fries at midnight.
And Joe knew you just as well.
He knew when your smile was fake, knew you hated pickles even though you always forgot to ask for them without, knew that when you got quiet during movies it meant you were thinking too hard about something you didn’t want to say out loud.
Somehow, somewhere between studio nights and concerts and long drives where he insisted on playing unreleased demos for you first, you fell in love with him.
Not all at once.
It happened slowly, painfully slowly, until one day you looked at him laughing under the dim yellow lights of the studio and realized you were completely done for.
The worst part was that nothing between you ever looked one-sided.
Joe would pull you into his side during parties without thinking about it, let his hand rest on your thigh while he drove, text you first thing in the morning just to complain about how tired he was. Sometimes he’d look at you in this awful soft way that made your stomach twist so badly you’d have to look away before he noticed.
Everyone thought something was happening between you two.
Everyone except the two of you.
Or maybe not except.
Maybe neither of you wanted to ruin whatever this was by saying it out loud.
Then he met her.
And suddenly everything changed.
You found out through Instagram.
Some blurry photo somebody had posted of Joe leaving a restaurant with a girl whose hand was tucked into his jacket sleeve.
You stared at the picture for almost ten minutes before your phone buzzed.
joe
before u kill me yes i was gonna tell u 😭
You didn’t answer.
Not immediately.
Your chest felt weird, tight in a way that made breathing feel embarrassing.
you
why would i kill u
Three dots appeared instantly.
joe
because ur dramatic
and because i know how u get
You almost laughed at that.
Almost.
After that, things started slipping in tiny horrible ways.
Not enough for other people to notice. Enough for you to notice everything.
He stopped calling you every night because he was “busy.”
The girl started showing up at concerts.
One time you walked into the studio without knocking like always and froze when you saw her sitting in your spot on the couch wearing one of Joe’s hoodies.
Your spot.
Stupid thing to care about.
You still cared.
“Hey,” Joe said carefully, standing up too fast like he’d gotten caught doing something wrong.
You smiled so quickly your face hurt. “Hi.”
The girl smiled too, sweet and pretty and effortless. “You must be Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”
You wanted to disappear.
Joe kept trying after that.
He’d text you random things throughout the day, send you dumb videos, ask if you were coming to shows.
But now every interaction felt wrong.
Because you knew.
You knew exactly what it was like to be almost chosen.
So you started pulling away.
At first it was subtle.
You stopped coming to the studio every other night.
Then every week.
Then almost entirely.
You ignored calls.
Took hours to answer texts.
Started making excuses whenever he invited you somewhere.
Joe noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
One night your phone buzzed nonstop while you laid face-down in bed pretending not to see it.
joe
did i do something
seriously
joe
u haven’t answered me in like 2 days
joe
okay now im annoyed
joe
can u stop being weird and just TALK to me
You threw your phone across the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Because what were you supposed to say?
Sorry Joe, I disappeared because watching you love somebody else makes me feel physically sick?
A week later he showed up outside your apartment unannounced.
You opened the door in sweatpants and immediately regretted it when you saw him standing there with messy curls and tired eyes.
“Oh,” you said stupidly.
“Oh?” he repeated. “That’s all I get?”
You crossed your arms. “What are you doing here?”
Joe stared at you for a second before laughing once in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been ignoring me for weeks.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“That’s bullshit.”
The words hit sharper than they should have.
You looked away first. “You don’t have to come check on me every five seconds anymore, Joe. You have a girlfriend.”
Something shifted in his expression immediately.
Not anger exactly.
Something more frustrated than that.
“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.
You let out a short laugh. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously.”
“Oh my God.” You stepped back from the door, shaking your head. “You know what, never mind.”
“No, don’t do that.” Joe followed you inside before you could stop him. “You keep acting like I did something horrible and I genuinely don’t know what the hell happened.”
You turned around too fast. “Nothing happened.”
“Then why are you acting like this?”
Because I love you.
Because every time I see her with you I feel like somebody’s reaching into my chest and squeezing my heart until I can’t breathe.
Because I got so used to being yours that I forgot I never actually was.
Instead you shrugged. “People grow apart sometimes.”
Joe stared at you for a long moment.
Then he laughed again, quieter this time, almost hurt.
“No,” he said. “Not us.”
That almost broke you.
You looked away before he could see it on your face. “I’m tired, Joe.”
He didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
When you finally looked back at him, his jaw was tight.
“Fine,” he said softly. “If that’s what you want.”
The second he left, you cried so hard it made your ribs ache.
Weeks passed.
Then months.
You still saw him sometimes because avoiding Joe completely was impossible.
You had too many mutual friends, too many routines built around each other.
But everything felt different now.
Conversations became short and awkward.
You stopped sitting next to him at dinners.
Stopped calling him first whenever something happened.
And Joe noticed every single thing.
You could tell by the way he looked at you now.
Like he was waiting for you to come back.
One night you ended up at the same party after trying very hard not to.
The second you walked in and saw Joe across the room, your stomach dropped.
He saw you too.
Of course he did.
For a second neither of you moved.
Then somebody said his name and suddenly that stupid beautiful smile was back on his face while he turned away from you.
You hated how much that hurt.
You stayed anyway.
Big mistake.
By midnight you were tipsy enough to stop pretending everything was fine.
Joe was standing outside on the balcony talking to someone when you walked past him without acknowledging him.
“Seriously?” he called after you.
You stopped walking. “What?”
He followed you inside. “What the hell is your problem with me lately?”
You blinked at him. “Nothing.”
“There it is again.” He laughed bitterly. “You either ignore me or act like you hate me.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Could’ve fooled me.”
Something inside you snapped then.
Maybe because you were tired.
Maybe because seeing him all night felt like ripping open a wound that never got the chance to heal.
“You wanna know what my problem is?” you asked quietly.
“Oh please.” You looked at him in disbelief. “Do you even hear yourself?”
Joe stepped closer. “I got a girlfriend. That doesn’t mean you stop being important to me.”
“But I did stop being important.”
“That’s not true.”
“Yes it is!”
People were starting to glance over now but neither of you cared anymore.
“You used to want me around all the time,” you said shakily. “Now I walk into your studio and somebody else is sitting there wearing your clothes and acting like she belongs there.”
Joe stared at you.
Really stared at you.
And for one awful second you thought he understood.
But then he just looked frustrated again.
“You’re jealous,” he said slowly.
The humiliation hit instantly.
You laughed in disbelief. “Wow.”
“No, seriously,” he continued. “That’s what this is? You’re mad because I’m spending time with my girlfriend?”
You took a step back like he’d slapped you.
“You know what,” you whispered, grabbing your bag. “Forget it.”
“Y/N—”
“No.” You shook your head hard. “You don’t get to make me feel crazy for this.”
“I’m not making you feel crazy—”
“Yes, you are!” Your voice cracked embarrassingly. “You have no idea what this feels like.”
Joe looked stunned.
Actually stunned.
But you were already leaving before he could answer.
After that fight, things got worse.
Completely worse.
You blocked his number for three days.
Then unblocked it because part of you wanted him to keep trying.
He did.
joe
can we please talk like actual adults for once
joe
im sorry okay??
joe
u cant just disappear every time we fight
But you could.
So you did.
Until one night, months later, everything finally exploded.
It started raining halfway through the concert.
Not soft rain either.
Heavy summer rain that soaked through clothes in seconds and sent people running for cover screaming and laughing.
You should’ve gone home the second the weather changed.
Instead you stayed backstage under the awning pretending you weren’t waiting for Joe to come out.
You hadn’t spoken properly in almost three weeks.
The venue lights reflected against the wet pavement while thunder rumbled somewhere far away.
Crew members rushed around packing equipment while rain crashed against the roof loud enough to drown out almost everything else.
Then you saw him.
Joe stepped out from backstage already looking exhausted, curls damp against his forehead.
The second his eyes landed on you, he stopped walking completely.
For a moment neither of you moved.
Then he walked over slowly.
“You came,” he said quietly.
You shrugged. “Emma had extra tickets.”
He nodded once.
Silence again.
God, you hated this.
You hated how easy things used to be.
Joe shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “You were gonna leave without saying hi?”
You looked out at the rain instead of at him. “Didn’t think you wanted me here.”
His face fell immediately. “Why do you keep saying stuff like that?”
“Because it’s true.”
“No, it’s not.”
You laughed softly under your breath. “Joe.”
“What?” he asked desperately. “Seriously, what do you want me to say?”
You finally looked at him then.
Actually looked at him.
And suddenly all the anger felt exhausting.
“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.
Rain poured endlessly around you.
Cold air drifted through the open sides of the awning, carrying the smell of wet pavement and cigarette smoke from somewhere nearby.
Joe stared at you like he was trying to solve something impossible.
“You disappeared on me,” he said after a minute.
Your throat tightened. “Because staying hurt too much.”
The second the words left your mouth, everything changed.
Joe’s expression shifted slowly, confusion melting into realization so sharp it almost looked painful.
“Oh,” he whispered.
You looked away immediately. “Forget I said that.”
“No.” His voice came out rough. “No, don’t.”
You crossed your arms tightly around yourself. “There’s nothing else to say.”
“There is for me.”
Your heart started pounding so hard it hurt.
Joe stepped closer carefully, rain blowing against the sleeves of his hoodie. “You think I started dating her because I didn’t want you?”
You blinked at him.
“Joe—”
“I dated her because I thought you didn’t feel the same way about me.”
Everything inside you stopped.
The rain sounded deafening now.
Joe laughed once, nervous and miserable all at once. “You wanna know how pathetic this is? I spent like two years trying not to fall in love with you because I thought if I ruined our friendship, I’d lose you completely.”
Your chest physically ached.
“You’re lying,” you whispered automatically.
His face twisted instantly. “Why would I lie about this?”
“Because you have a girlfriend.”
“We broke up two months ago.”
You stared at him. “What?”
Joe blinked. “You seriously didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Oh.” He rubbed a hand over his wet curls. “Yeah. We ended things a while ago.”
Your brain couldn’t catch up fast enough.
“You never told me.”
“You stopped talking to me, remember?”
Guilt crashed into you immediately.
“Oh.”
Joe laughed softly again, shaking his head. “God, we’re idiots.”
Rain splashed onto the concrete around your shoes while neither of you spoke for a second.
Then Joe looked at you carefully.
“When you pulled away from me,” he said quietly, “I thought you were finally realizing I was too much.”
Your eyebrows pulled together. “Too much?”
“Yeah.” He looked embarrassed now. “I know I get clingy with you.”
You almost laughed through the lump in your throat.
“You used to be the first person I wanted to tell everything to,” he continued softly. “Every song, every stupid thing that happened during my day, every thought in my head. And then suddenly you wouldn’t even answer my texts anymore.”
You swallowed hard. “Because watching you be with someone else felt horrible.”
Joe’s eyes closed briefly like the confession physically hit him.
“Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. “Do you know how many nights I sat there thinking you hated me?”
“I never hated you.”
“I know that now.”
Thunder cracked somewhere overhead.
Rain started blowing harder beneath the awning until cold drops hit your bare arms.
Joe looked at you for a long moment.
Then he smiled a little.
Not his usual bright teasing smile.
Something smaller. Softer. Almost disbelieving.
“So,” he said carefully, “what happens now?”
You let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t know.”
“Can I try something?”
Your stomach flipped immediately. “Okay.”
Joe stepped forward slowly enough to give you time to stop him.
You didn’t.
His hand reached for yours carefully, fingers cold from the rain.
The second he touched you, something inside your chest unraveled completely.
Joe looked down at your intertwined hands for a second before meeting your eyes again.
“I think,” he said softly, “I’ve been in love with you for a really long time.”
The tears hit before you could stop them.
“Oh my God,” you laughed weakly, covering your face with your free hand. “This is so embarrassing.”
“No, hey.” Joe immediately pulled your hand away gently. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m trying not to.”
But Joe was already smiling now, forehead damp from the rain while he looked at you like he couldn’t believe this was real either.
“You seriously had no idea?” you asked.
He gave you a look. “You literally stopped speaking to me instead of telling me how you felt.”
“Okay, fair.”
“And you thought I didn’t love you back even though I basically treated you like my girlfriend for years.”
“You dated someone else!”
“Because I thought you didn’t want me!”
You both started laughing at the exact same time then, the kind of exhausted hysterical laugh that only comes after months of tension finally snapping apart.
Rain poured endlessly around you while Joe shook his head.
“We wasted so much time,” he murmured.
Your smile faded a little at that. “Yeah.”
Joe looked at you for a second before suddenly grabbing your wrist.
“What are you doing?” you laughed.
“Come here.”
Before you could ask anything else, he pulled you straight out into the rain.
Cold water instantly soaked through your clothes while you shrieked in shock.
“Joe!”
But he was already laughing properly now, loud and bright and beautiful, curls dripping into his eyes.
“You wanted a dramatic moment, didn’t you?”
“What?”
“You’re obsessed with romance movies,” he said, grinning while rain poured down both of you. “I’m giving you the full experience.”
You laughed so hard your stomach hurt. “You’re insane.”
“Probably.”
Then suddenly he wasn’t smiling anymore.
Not because something was wrong.
Because he was looking at you too carefully.
Rainwater dripped down his face while his hand tightened gently around yours.
“You know I’m gonna kiss you now, right?” he asked softly.
Your heart nearly stopped.
“Yeah,” you whispered.
Joe kissed you like he’d been waiting years to do it.
Slow at first, almost cautious, like he still couldn’t fully believe this was happening, then deeper the second you kissed him back.
Rain soaked both of you completely while his hand slid against your jaw and your fingers tangled into the wet fabric of his hoodie.
And somehow, after all the months of fighting and avoiding each other and pretending none of this existed, kissing him finally felt like breathing correctly again.
When he pulled away, both of you were smiling so hard it almost hurt.
“You know,” Joe said breathlessly, forehead pressed against yours, “this could’ve been avoided if we had one honest conversation.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ruin the moment.”
He laughed instantly. “Sorry, sorry.”
Then he kissed you again before you could answer.
thank u so much for reading angel, hope u liked it <3
note: we are PROGRESSING u guys ! they're so mom and dad coded
EDIT: i realized i said NIECE in this ,,, ITS NOT ON PURPOSE !!! its just ambi being ambi
//
you turn around twice before you walk in.
at hindsight, this should be easy. this should be the easiest thing to do in the world. telling your best friends that you’re pregnant should be easy.
but for some reason, you feel like throwing up.
perhaps it’s the nerves. perhaps it’s the fact that they only know jungkook’s name and associate him as a fuckbuddy—nothing more nothing less. he’s just the guy you’re sleeping with every now and then… not this. not the father of your child. not the guy that was offering to put you in his insurance plan to move you to his doctor. not the guy that gets jealous over a simple interaction with your ta… he’s not what they had in mind and honestly? not what you had either.
you’ve thought about this before. you’ve dreamt about this with ambi. how you two were going to be pregnant together—have family game nights together… have husbands together. all of it. now? you’re a few steps ahead. rather, you’ve gone a whole other direction. god, you two haven’t even finished school yet. you never thought that your graduation pictures would be ambi, you, and baby.
it all circles around you. these thoughts… these changes. they make you spin and spiral in ways you haven’t thought about yet. at this very moment, everything feels so real.
“excuse me,” someone says, moving past you to enter. they pause and hold the door open. “miss… are you coming in?”
you blink.
then, you touch your belly as some sort of comfort. taking a deep breath in, you nod, thank them, and walk through the door.
the restaurant is a lot nicer than you thought it would be.
low amber lighting, polished wood tables, the soft hum of conversations layered over jazz playing faintly through ceiling speakers. it smells like grilled meat and garlic and something sweet you can’t place. it’s so elevated and chic. you wonder how much the meal will cost tonight.
your palms are sweating when all of the sudden ambi grabs your hands the second you sit down. her eyes scan your face like she’s trying to read the last two weeks written between your lashes.
“hey baby!” she smiles. “we ordered the three person combo. the food looks so fucking good, we couldn’t wait to order! you’ll like all of it. the pork belly especially looks so good!”
yoongi sits beside her, quieter, but just as attentive—sliding your water closer before you even ask. you take it, sipping the water, trying to avoid their eyes. they exchange worried glances. when you put the cup down, you don’t start talking right away.
“y-yeah. all good,” you begin. “i missed you guys! sorry i’ve been busy. how was your brother’s wedding yoongi—”
“are you okay?” yoongi asks. “you look… really pale.”
“i’m… i’m okay.”
ambi raises her brow and the mood has dropped. suddenly, it’s a lot harder hiding your nervousness.
“hmmm. you are really pale right now…” ambi says gently. “are you sick? what’s wrong?”
yoongi leans back in his chair, arm draped behind her, eyes flicking between you both.he has only been caught between you two a handful of times. you and ambi don’t fight at all, but surely you two have had your share of stubborn conversations. he hopes this isn’t one of them.
you swallow.
“i—” you start, then stop. your fingers tighten around the napkin. “i don’t really know how to say this without it sounding insane.” in attempt to lighten the mood, you let out a soft awkward laugh. the two don’t flinch.
ambi doesn’t even smile.
“just say it,” she insists. “sound insane if you want. who cares? it’s us, ___. you’re okay. how bad could it be? we’ve literally known each other since our childhood. nothing about you can surprise me—”
“i’m pregnant, ambi.”
the words land heavy on the table.
yoongi straightens immediately. “you’re… what?”
ambi doesn’t speak.
she just stares at you.
you already know what that silence means… she’s not judging. she’s calculating. feeling and processing. she’s reorganizing everything she thought she knew about your life in real time.
“how?” yoongi asks before he can stop himself. “who—”
you huff a weak laugh.
“well—”
“not biologically,” he backtracks quickly, rubbing his face. “i mean—you know what i mean.”
“i know.”
you glance back at ambi.
she still hasn’t spoken.
“it wasn’t planned,” you say quietly. “we were careful but… not careful enough, i guess. i didn’t know what to do. i wanted to call you but you two were out of town for the wedding and then the appointments kept happening and—”
“is it… that guy you’ve been sleeping with?” she asks finally. “jung…jungwoo?”
“jungkook.” you correct her.
her brows lift slightly—recognition from all the stories, all the times you mentioned him in passing… which honestly isn’t much.
“wow… i… a-are you happy? you said appointments so i’m assuming—”
you nod. “i’m happy. i’m keeping the baby. i’ve done the calculations and at most i might have to fall back on one semester but otherwise everything is okay. i’m okay.”
silence again.
“how far along?” she asks.
“almost twelve weeks.”
yoongi exhales low.
“you’re almost out the first trimester.”
“yeah.”
ambi’s fingers tap lightly against the table.
“when did you find out?”
“six weeks,” you say. “i thought i was late because of stress at first but… my boobs hurt, i was nauseous all the time, i couldn’t even look at eggs without gagging. he and i bumped into each other at the grocery store… i was buying the test.”
yoongi winces.
“eggs are brutal to throw up.”
ambi elbows him without looking.
“keep going,” she tells you.
you nod.
“i took three tests. all positive. i went to doctor mei to confirm… and then i had to do these lab tests and my iron levels were low and—oh my god it was so overwhelming to deal with everything at first… and then jungkook… lately… well, ever since i let him… he’s been taking care of everything..”
“he has? you’re not stressed? not anxious?”
your shoulders relax. “ambi… he’s good to me. i know he’s practically a stranger, but he’s all in. i’m… relieved that he is. he has his shit together much more than i do—”
ambi lets out a laugh for the first time since sitting down. “that’s hard to believe. you’re insanely hyper-independant. won’t even let me take care of you when you’re sick… me.”
you join her laughter. “it’s… different with him. i… i think i trust him. i want to. i… also have no choice. this baby is his too.”
“how did he react?”
you think about it. you think about how he practically chased you for the answer. how he’s been the one initiating most of the communication. in this, you realize just how in it jungkook is.
“better than i expected,” you admit. “he didn’t freak out. he just… accepted it. his initial reaction was more on how this was going to work. to be honest, i was kind of avoiding him when i found out. i got caught up with school and everything—i didn’t really think of him. i felt bad, you know? he showed up to my study spot and wanted to talk. he wanted to be there. he’s… so grown. sometimes it makes me confused. other times i’m really thankful… but it makes sense. he makes sense. i’m sorry if it doesn’t make sense to you—”
“baby, no.” ambi shakes her head. “why are you apologizing? this is a good thing. if it’s a good thing to you, it’s a good thing to me. i know you. i know you’ll be doing anything and everything for your baby. i’m glad jungwoo—”
“jungkook,” you correct.
“jungkook,” she rolls her eyes, “i’m glad he wants this too.”
you smile at them.
“... is it too early to ask if he wants you too?” she sneaks in.
your eyes widen. ambi watches your face closely, a smirk growing on her face.
“bitch!” she snickers. “you want him!”
“well duh!” you cry. “why do you think i’m pregnant right now?”
the three of you laugh, the news settling in between.
“oh my god. girl, i cried for like three days straight.” you confess. “i was so scared. i mean, i still am. but not about the baby… more about everything else. how my life’s gonna change. how fast it already is.”
ambi nods slowly.
“thankfully, nothing changes between us,” ambi says, reaching for you. “we love you, ___. our little niece… and jungwoo.”
you glare at her, and snatch your hand back.
“shut up,” you scoff. “you know his name.”
“i do,” ambi says. “i know his name. i know what he did… but i don’t know him. don’t think you’re off the hook that easy, ___. i gotta meet the man that has the worst pull out game—”
“oh my god. shut up!”
the food starts arriving before you two can get any sillier. the server arrives with multiple plates and sets them down one after another. steam curls into the air and the smell hits you all at once—grilled meat, garlic, butter, something sweet and smoky underneath.
your stomach flips instantly.
you pause mid sentence.
ambi notices in a second.
“you good?”
you nod quickly.
“yeah. smells stronger now.”
yoongi pushes your water closer without a word.
“so… you’re like really pregnant?” ambi asks.
you roll your eyes at her. “yes, ambi. i’m really pregnant. the nausea comes and goes. mostly at night.”
she winces in sympathy.
“any cravings?”
“sour stuff,” you admit. “and cold fruit. i cried over mango last week.”
yoongi snorts. “try eating those green mangos with bagoong. those really hit to spot with pregnant ladies.”
ambi ignores him, waving him off.
“are you sleeping?”
“barely. i pee like six times a night.”
“are you taking prenatals?”
“yeah. jungkook reminds me every morning. doctor mei sent us a recommendation list and he bought every single one of them.”
that makes her pause.
“oh… jungwoo is involved involved.”
you nod, giving up and letting her tease.
“he comes to every appointment. he reads the baby apps. he downloaded like three… he sends me picture of what fruit size the baby is every week. we’ve been spending a lot of time together. picks me up from class too”
“of course he does,” yoongi mutters. “as he should.”
you smile faintly.
“he talks to the baby,” you begin. “... about stuff.”
“what stuff?” she squints. “like… family stuff?”
you blink.
and then nod.
that breaks ambi’s composure a little. her eyes soften fully now.
“okay,” she says quietly. “i don’t hate him.”
you laugh.
“that’s high praise coming from you.”
“i’m serious,” she says. “i was ready to fight him if he wasn’t stepping up.”
yoongi lifts his glass.
“i was ready to help.”
“you wouldn’t have a choice,” she scoffs at him. “you should get ready, babe.”
“for what?” yoongi asks.
“a vasectomy or a baby,” ambi shrugs. “haven’t decided yet. let’s see how the pregancy goes for ___ and we can decide if it’s worth the hassle.”
yoongi blinks a few times but smiles in the end. “our child will be so loved.”
you shake your head, smiling—chest feeling lighter than when you walked in. ambi reaches across the table, squeezing your hand.
“you’re not doing this alone,” she says. “you know that, right?”
emotion climbs up your throat unexpectedly.
“i know.”
she nods once.
“good. because our kids are still growing up together. you just started early.”
you laugh through the tightness in your chest.
then, all of the sudden, your conversion pauses as two servers approach with five other plates. happily, the set the plates down and the three of you gasp.
the dishes are huge.
they’re cut into smaller portions already. it’s plated much more high-end than the other dishes you ordered previously. there’s pecking duck, there’s lobster tails, and a whole other pasta dish you can’t even begin to describe because your drool is in the way.
yoongi frowns, unsure if he should correct what’s happening. “sorry, we didn’t order this.”
the server smiles.
“the owners had it sent, sir. enjoy!”
the three of you exchange confused looks. who could be sending this much food your way? as yoongi and ambi bicker, your shoulders drop as you piece it together.
your stomach drops before you even turn.
it’s instinctive—like your body recognizes him before your brain catches up.
you feel it first.
whenever he’s around, there’s a specific shift in the air. it’s this subtle tightening in your chest that only ever happens when he’s close. you sink lower into your seat without meaning to… shoulders curling inward. like maybe if you make yourself smaller, you can buy yourself a few extra seconds before he reaches the table.
ambi notices immediately.
she follows your line of sight toward the entrance of the dining room.
two men approaching.
one of them broad-shouldered, walking like he belongs everywhere he steps—smiling, animated, already mid conversation with the server trailing behind him.
the other is quieter but his presence carries this heaviness that… feels enchanting. his presence lands before his footsteps do.
eyes already locked on you from across the room.
jungkook.
he doesn’t look away once.
not when he’s still ten steps out. not when he passes other tables. not even when jin says something to him that makes him huff out a small laugh.
his gaze stays fixed.
steady.
it makes heat crawl up your neck.
you suddenly become hyper aware of everything—the way you’re sitting, the way your hair falls, and the fact that you’re still holding your fork even though you’re not eating.
ambi leans forward, voice low.
“…is that him?”
you nod faintly.
too late to pretend otherwise now.
yoongi straightens a little across from you, posture sharpening the closer they get.
jungkook slows when he reaches the table. like he’s taking you in properly for the first time tonight. his eyes drag over your face first—checking, searching, softening all at once when he sees you’re okay.
then lower.
it’s brief and instinctive.
… to your stomach.
it’s subtle enough that no one else would notice.
but you do.
always do.
he steps closer.
close enough now that you can smell his cologne. you almost want to grab him by the collar of his shirt and scream. why does this feel like a million years? is he punishing you or something? what the fuck is all this aura? and then, softer than the room deserves—
“hi, baby.”
you don’t know what to feel.
embarrassed? proud? confused? there’s so much happening all at once. the tall guy introduces himself as jin, jungkook’s best friend and co-owner of the resturant. he makes a few lighthearted remarks and everyone is sharing laughs around the table. before you know it, you’re scooting over to make room for jungkook. he sits beside you as jin pulls a chair from another table.
“i’m jungkook,” jungkook introduces himself, extending a hand to ambi and yoongi. they take turns shaking it, though their eyes are locked on you.
“nice to meet you, brother in law,” yoongi jokes. jungkook lets out a hearty chuckle and thanks him. ambi keeps a guarded look, but can’t help but smile a little when jungkook plays along. meanwhile, jin has a playful look on his face. you brace yourself for his interaction.
“so… you’re ___?” jin says, hands on his hips like he’s inspecting something important. “finally i can put a face to the name. jungkook never mentioned that you’re out of his league—”
“hyung.” jungkook warns.
you laugh awkwardly, glancing up at jungkook.
he’s quie but his eyes are locked on you. in fact, his gaze hasn’t shifted once. it’s like he’s studying your every move. every posture shift. every facial expression. it takes him a few minutes to visibly relax, accepting that you’re okay.
he leans back, and murmurs in your ear.
“you okay?”
you nod.
“you look pretty today.”
you hit his thigh under the table. he pouts instantly.
“what?” he says, voice low. “you look glowier. i like it.”
before you can respond, ambi fakes a smile and clears her throat.
“so you’re jungwoo—”
“jungkook.” you correct her.
ambi rolls her eyes, flickering her attention to jin. “and what was your name again?”
jin smiles. “i’m seokjin. co-owner.”
ambi blinks. “whose the other owner?”
jin tilts his head, confused. then, he lifts his finger and points at jungkook. then, you blink and can’t help notice ambi and yoongi’s eyes widen too.
“you said you just help out,” you say, trying to piece this new information together.
“i do,” jungkook shrugs. “financially. this and that.”
jin snorts. “he invested but likes to pick up shifts when he’s bored. guess i’m gonna have to start looking for new hires once the baby comes, huh?”
you almost choke on air.
jungkook told him already? you feel a little shy all of the sudden. ambi and yoongi laugh, and carry the conversation with jin.
“a close friend of ours is the chef. kim taehyung? have you heard of him? i asked him to come out when he can but… our busiest hour is coming up. plus, once jungkook saw you guys sitting here, they whipped up a few more dishes to bring over.”
your head snaps toward jungkook.
he looks away, scratching his brow.
“be glad it’s not soup,” jungkook says with a short-lived smirk. “eat.”
the conversation starts to flow easier after that. dishes are being passed left and right, and jin yaps about them nonstop. thankfully, everything he’s saying is actually interesting. jungkook adds every now and then with details that change the course of the stories. ambi, against her will, likes jungkook.
it’s obvious.
she likes the way she catches jungkook fidgeting with your hands. she likes the way he interrupts the conversation—steady, polite, and with actual meaning. there’s a presence in him that she can’t quite describe, but it’s also the clearest thing in the world; this. this is why you slept with him.
jungkook is charming in so many ways. he’s warm even when he doesn’t mean to be. he’s effortless in a way that radiates an ease in you. ambi can tell because the second jungkook sat down beside you, it’s like your body lost tension. like he put your mind to ease by just being next to you. she’s never seen that before. she has never seen your body react so fully heartedly.
believe it or not, more dishes keep arriving after that. yoongi and ambi groan in food coma, unable to even fanthom all the dishes on the table.
“this is too much…” you tell jungkook. “w-why aren’t you eating? eat too.”
jungkook nods, listening to what you have to say. yet, he ignores your request. he shifts into caretaker mode without realizing. jungkook reaches over, rotates plates closer to you.
he picks garnish off your food, switches your drink when yours gets too watered down, and cuts your food into bite sized pieces. you scoff at him, telling him you know how to eat and he simple nods. yet, he continues to do whatever he’s doing.
ambi notices everything.
then, one dish arrives that makes jungkook perk up slightly.
“this one,” jungkook says, already reaching for the serving spoon. “try this.”
he scoops a careful portion, blows on it once, then holds it out toward you without thinking.
you blink at him.
ambi’s eyes widen across the table.
you lean forward anyway, letting him feed you the bite. as you chew, the flavours mix together. savory first. then a soft sour kick at the end that lingers.
your eyes widen slightly.
jungkook’s face lights up.
“i knew you’d like it,” he says, pleased in a quiet, boyish way. “it has that sour finish you’ve been into lately.”
you stare at him.
“here. have more,” jungkook insists, preparing you another bite. “i can remake this at home. just tell me when, okay?”
his words are simple, but there’s so much pride in it. pride in the fact that it sounds so domestic. pride in the fact that he knows you a little better. pride in the fact that this is where you two are now. his hand settles on your thigh under the table after—warm, absentminded, thumb brushing once.
by the end of dinner, your plate has been refilled more times than you noticed.
as everyone gets up, yoongi takes out his wallet. jungkook and jin share a look and wave yoongi off. you look at jungkook and shake your head, already rejecting what he’s about to do.
“on the house,” jin smiles. “i have to get a head start on being the favourite uncle, you know?”
you reach for your wallet anyway. jungkook presses it gently back down. you look at ambi nd yoongi, standing there stunned. the dinner bill must have exceeded to at least a few hundred dollars.
“jungkook, we have to pay—” you insist, your fingers still trapped under his hand. “at least let us tip the servers—”
jin waves you off again, already stepping back from the table.
“taken care of,” he says easily.
you exhale sharply through your nose.
this is ridiculous.
too much.
too generous.
you finally slide your hand out from under jungkook’s, but not before you feel his thumb brush lightly against your knuckles when you pull away… like he didn’t want to let go yet.
you stand there awkwardly for a second, bag clutched to your chest.
“jungkook,” you say quieter now. “this is ridiculous—”
jungkook shakes his head. “no, it’s really not. this is called taking care of the woman that’s carrying your baby. i sent the food to you because i wanted to make sure you ate. did you eat?”
“yes.”
“then you already paid me back,” he smiles. then, he turns to ambi. “right, ambi?”
ambi swallows. she and yoongi share a look before she gestures to him. slowly, yoongi gives in, stuffing his wallet back inside his pocket.
“let him take care of you, ___.” ambi agrees. “it makes up for his weak pull out game.”
you send her a glare, suddenly feeling protective over jungkook and her teasing. yet, jungkook doesn't seem to mind. he laughs and shares a look with ambi, indicating an understanding that they're on the same side.
yours.
“do you wanna hang in the kitchen?” jungkook asks as you both linger near the hallway that leads toward the back of the restaurant. his voice is casual and the way he asks you feels like it’s an afterthought… but his hand hasn’t left yours since you stood up from the table.his fingers are loosely hooked with yours, thumb absentmindedly brushing over the side of your hand as he speaks.
“i have some paperwork to finish,” he continues, nodding toward the office. “but after that i can take you home.”
you’re already grinning and shaking your head before he finishes. he continues his attempt anyway, trying his best to make his pitch as convincing as possible.
“i can get taehyung to whip up a dessert if you want,” he adds, glancing down at you from under his lashes, tone light.
tempting.
you smile softly but decline anyway.
“i’m going to ambi’s tonight,” you tell him. “we’re gonna binge watch bridgerton.”
there’s the smallest flicker across his face. it’s so fast anyone else would miss it… but you don’t. then, you feel his thumb pauses on your skin for half a second before it resumes its slow movement again.
“okay,” he says simply.
he’s nonchalant about it. for a moment, it almost upsets you how fast he is accepting defeat. but you realize he hasn’t let go of your hand. he hasn’t given up entirely yet.
a small silence settles between you both. the space between you doesn’t feel heavy or awkward… just…
awaiting.
like neither of you is quite ready to separate yet.
“can you text me when you’re done?” jungkook asks after a beat.
you blink.
“i’ll come get you,” he adds, like it’s obvious. “i want to see you more tonight.”
you laugh lightly, tilting your head.
“jungkook, it’s almost eight o’clock.”
he blinks back at you, processing the time like it personally offended him. then his mouth presses into a small line. still holding your hand, he lifts it slightly between you both.
his fingers tighten just a little.
“can you sleep over again?” he asks, quieter now… less casual. you swear, you can feel the desperation in his voice. your breath catches slightly at the shift in tone. “i like it when you sleep over.”
his thumb starts rubbing slow circles over your knuckles—soft, repetitive, almost absentminded but intentional enough that it makes your stomach flip… it’s like he’s memorizing the shape of your hand.
the warmth of it.
he steps a fraction closer.
jungkook leans down like he’s about to whisper something. you instinctively tilt your head up to hear him… but instead—
he kisses you.
quick.
soft.
familiar in a way that makes your chest ache.
like it’s something he does often now.
like it belongs to him.
you pull back slowly, eyes still half-lidded, lips tingling. his forehead drops to rest against yours before you can fully create distance. his hand slides from yours to your wrist, then down until he’s holding your hand again.
“please?” he murmurs. his low voice sends chills down your spine. partly because of the delviery of it, and partly because he said it at all. it’s this boyish appeal that seeps through despite how composed he looks. “wanna be with you.”
you smile—soft, helpless—because it’s unfair how nonchalant he sounds while holding you like you’re something fragile. like he needs you close just to breathe properly.
you’re about to answer when suddenly your body jerks backward.
ambi grabs you by the arm and physically yanks you away from him. you gasp, laughing as she drags you two steps back. she sticks her tongue out at jungkook dramatically.
“thanks for the dinner tonight, jungwoo. you’re nice and all but you aren’t getting her tonight, romeo!” she declares. “she owes me details. podcast-quality details.. so, i don’t know. keep yearning?”
jungkook exhales through his nose. half sigh, half defeated amusement. his hands slide into his pockets as he rocks back on his heels.
“so…” he says slowly. “my night routine?”
ambi makes the most disgusted face possible. she looks between you two like she just witnessed a public health violation. she takes a deep breath.
“you two make me sick.”
you burst out laughing.
then, you slip out of her grip and step back toward him quickly, like you forgot something. jungkook’s eyes lift immediately the second you return. you rise onto your tiptoes, fingers catching lightly on the front of his shirt to steady yourself and you kiss him again.
softer this time.
his hand comes up instinctively to your waist, like muscle memory, before you’re already pulling away. you grin and hurry back to ambi before he can react.
“goodnight, jungwoo,” you tease. “i’ll text you.”
you grab onto ambi and drag her away. she gasps in outrage while jungkook huffs out a quiet laugh behind you—head dipping slightly as he watches you walk away.
but when you glance back once more—he’s still looking at you.
that same quiet yearning sitting behind his otherwise calm expression… like he’s already counting down the hours until he sees you again.
𝜗୧ . dennis wanting to teach u morse code as a way to communicate quickies goes "wrong" | 18+ MDNI
okieee so imagine you've been fucking around with dennis for a few months and you've grown very comfortable with each other. its nothing serious—even if you secretly want to take it to the next level. but its not just only sex with the two of you. you're actually friends. you hang out, play around, make jokes. real friends. but of course you want to kept your little sex deal under wraps. you and dennis are hyper aware of how fast word spreads around the hospital. like it's some kind of infectious disease. you haven't told anyone yet, and you never planned on it. ignore the bets and the whispers and the less than inconspicuous questions from a very certain roommate. but its very safe to say that you haven't been doing a very good job at hiding it. too giggly, too unintentionally flirtatious, and it really isn't anyone else's fault but dennis' that he can't keep his chronic 'fuck me eyes' to himself.
but, dennis gets a bright idea on how you can signal a quickie without anymore suspicions of your "strictly platonic hook up", and the word bright is being used very loosely. you couldn't help but break out into a fit of uncontrollable laughter when dennis proposes his idea with upmost amount of seriousness that he'd have when one of his patients was coding. before you dropped down on your bed and clutched your stomach because of your constant string of giggles, you were looking up at dennis as he stood above you. he wanted to teach you morse code so he could blink the location that you would be fooling around. yes. morse code.
“wha..why are you laughing? i'm being serious.” dennis says, with his lips slowly turn into a pout while his brows draw together, but you don't have the pleasure of seeing his face because you were occupied with laughing your ass off. eyes screwed shut and you fail at catching your breath. "yea...i can tell," you manage out between your chuckles, but what you also don't have the pleasure of seeing was another idea pop up in his head. the slow smirk that tug on his lips would've gave him away. and the next thing you know, your being pressed down by a familiar weight. you feel a pair of legs caging your lap, and you hands are pinned above your head.
at first, you were entirely sure on what was going on, but you couldn't deny that it was getting you all hot and mushy on the inside. and opening your eyes, you were happily met with dennis' pretty face with a dopey lopsided-grin tugs on the corner of his lips, nose and cheeks colored red as he holds you down, and even better? he lifts his free hand to shut you up. mouth fully covered by those slender fingers that have been on every inch of you body on numerous occasions.
you could tell he likes holding you in this position. him fully in control. hands on what you could and couldn't do. it was new to him. and although this wasn't inherently sexual—despite the fact that this plan was about fucking in general—the energy in your room shifted to something that made you feel like you were about to have your clothes ripped off (and you wanted them gone.)
“okay? you ready to stop laughing and listen to my plan?” he says with a chuckle, and it's cocky just much as it sexy, and the new attitude that was washed over him in front of your very own eyes makes your cunt throb and leak arousal into your underwear.
your lack of muffled words, movements, and overall protests to break free for his tantalizing grip—but there was no lack blinking. lids falling together repeatedly like your nerves were being short circuited—make dennis narrow his eyes and tilt his head as he stares down at you.
"wait...you like this? me pining you down?" he asks with sex dripping from his voice. he's all breathless, likes he's the one being held down, and you can't but notice the growing erection in his pants.
christ, you were losing your mind. you don't respond, but the audible gulp from your throat told the story perfectly. you did in fact "like this." then he chuckles again and shakes his head like he was ashamed of the way this got you hot, but the look in his eyes was anything but. "should've told me you were into stuff like this, baby...could've done this ages ago."
dennis whitaker taglist . ✿: @itssimplilylexji @prettyliittleviolets @punksnotdeadbutiam @tilldeathwe-love @nomorespahgetti @mournlily @kisophile @diorchids @lizzylynch1 @str4wbsstuff @cosmosnkaz @herdarlin @lakedbh @deansdeer @uhmmjayla + comment on this -> post if you want be added !
A Wonderland of Yanderes - Masterlist
Chapter 2. Savanaclaw Part 2.
Part 1 -> Part 3
Going to sleep with a lot on your mind is becoming a bad habit, but no one can blame you since life really is testing you lately.
Crowley just handed you the job of a private eye without the paycheck, where you had to investigate some accidents he didn’t want to for whatever reason. Which is annoying enough on its own, gee thanks Crowley, but last time you had your dreams like this with Riddle’s tyranny, Ace almost got murdered like the tragically doomed Alice had before Winston saved her. Temporarily. Heck you spent the morning after your very first dream painting roses just like Alice.
If that was a weird prophetic secret dream code for a tragedy in the making, you were sure that your new extra-no-credit assignment was bound to have some bad things happen. But what was the question. Your bare bones understanding of what happened to the Queen Lioness meant that whatever warning was there you needed to find it without traumatising a lion.
Or having her maul you to death in vengeance, that too. You still remember Winston choking you out and that’s a no-repeat please and thank you.
So as you drift off to sleep, you resolve to not intervene as much as possible, observe, maybe stay out of things and you’d be golden!
And that was the plan until you got tackled.
The cave you stepped into reminded you of the one you peeked in on last night. One again, literally everything is black, white and grey, from the rock walls to the grayscale sunset you can see outside the cave entrance. But most notably, even with the darkness, it’s pretty empty in here.
Besides the soft sound of the wind blowing through the cave openings, there’s nobody here.
Which is weird, but it does play into your plan to be a passive observer. All you really have to do is find where the action is, watch and disturb anyone. No way you could fuck that up…
You incorrectly originally thought.
One second you were exiting the cave into the open to just mind your own damn business and before you could even fully leave, you were body-slammed hard into the rock floor. The air is literally launched out of your lungs so hard, it hurts to breathe as the super heavy weight climbs off you, to circle you like an apex predator circling their prey. Despite the pain slowly dissipating clouding your judgement, you’re pretty positive that she’s the lioness you’re here to ‘interact’ with.
Which is easier said than done since she’s quite literally growling like she’s ready to gut you, and her glare isn’t helping matters.
<Who are you>” The lioness threatens, from tone alone, you can tell she’s absolutely suspicious of you and, given that she’s probably THE Lion Queen in a humanless kingdom, you’re probably about as trustworthy as Crowley is on a good day.
Leaving you to talk your way out of this, “I, u-uh… “I‘m _______!”
The fierce glare in her eyes narrows that much further, sending another shot of adrenaline down your spine as she continues speaking, <What are you, and what is a creature like you doing in the Pridelands?>, her voice still deathly cold.
“I’m human, but you’ve probably never seen one before me besides that one time..” You stammer out, trying to explain yourself before she decides you’d make a better late night snack than a conversation partner. “And l-look, I don’t really know why I’m here but I promise I’m not here to do you any harm.”
She stalks that much closer to you, making you scramble back equally in fear, <Then explain to me how the pure coincidence-> You recognize that tone of raw suspicion, having been on the delivery end of it with Crowley, you were probably not helping your case. < -of your sudden return right at the moment my son and his best friend go missing?>
Well, how were you supposed to answer that you didn’t even know about that!? “I, um…” You can feel the panic setting in as you mull over a somewhat believable answer, because what could you respond to that? “I don’t know… Can’t it just be a coincidence?”
<No.> Again, she stalks closer and even worse, you can feel the rocky wall hit your back as she nears you with her fangs bared. <Because I find it incredibly suspicious that I hear my son has gone missing and then you appear.>
“Your majesty, no offense, I literally just got here and I am basically invisible to everyone but you?” You try to rationalize, “And even though I would be suspicious of me if I were in your…paws, but there has to be someone you thought had done this before you even saw me.”
You watch the threatening glare turn into a look of contemplation, and after a few moments of tense silence she answers, hesitantly, <There maybe…another…>
“And I know I’m already super suspicious,” But you’re going to talk your way out of this one way or another, and the blame game is a good start, “But who would that be?”
She hesitates for a moment before answering <My brother in law, Scar.>
Her brother-in-law… the one destined to kill her husband in an attempt to have her… “HE DID IT! IT WAS HIM!”
<And why should I believe that?>
“Because, well, long story short I’m from a far off future where your life story is probably in several history books,” Never did you think that you would be explaining time travel and the imminent terrible, and possibly avoidable, future to a lion in the past in a dream in another universe, but here you are trying to convince her that’s real for some reason… “And basically, it’s recorded that Scar, who we call the King of Beasts, really wants to kill your son and succeeded in trying to kill your husband because he’s romantically obsessed with you.”
Silence.
You watch the lioness before you transition from confusion to shock to confusion again to concern before she quietly utters, “Perhaps you weren’t a threat after all, you are clearly insane.”
“Hey! I’m literally telling you exactly what I know!”
<And I’m telling you that is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. I can believe that Scar wants to kill Mufasa and maybe Simba. I’ll even admit that I had a feeling that he’d try to kill Mufasa, but not because he’s infatuated with me. That is the ridiculous part.>
Once again you agree, but still you’re going to try. “ Yeah, I know. But it’s the truth. He’s going to try to kill the people you love because he’s obsessed with you. It sounds so unbelievable, but it’s the truth.”
<It is unbelievable, because why would he still be in love with me when I rejected him when we were teenagers?!>
Hold it, wait a damn second- “Hang on, you KNEW he liked you a little too much!?! And you WEREN’T suspicious about his behavior towards you even once after!?!”
<Because I thought he got over it. And who in their right mind would hold onto a infatuation that long.>
“Well first, he didn’t get over it. Second, he might not be in his right mind,” You can't believe that you are literally arguing with a lion right now. Hell, are all lions humanoid or otherwise as stubborn as old donkeys? This entire trip to another universe is going to push you into a psyche ward when you get out, no doubts about that. “And third, this back and forth would be so much easier if I knew your name.”
<I am called Sarabi. And once again that is ridiculous.>
“Okay, Sarabi. What part of it is ridiculous? You just said that you had a ‘feeling’ that he was going to try and kill your husband ‘AGAIN’?!”
<That is not the part I don’t get. What I don’t get is the part about him being ‘obsessed with me?!>
“I don’t get how it works either!? I’m just telling you that’s WHY!” This is going functionally nowhere, you sigh in complete and utter annoyance before refocusing, “Look, I understand your denial but seriously just humor me? I wouldn’t lie about any of this, and trust me, it’s probably better to not believe me but just remember what I said. Please, just in case?”
Honestly, nothing but empty words and blind faith being the entire crux of your argument and you can’t help the discomfort in the silence, as she thinks over your plea. Maybe she'd say no and still maul you, and maybe she’d say yes and you both are in for a mental breakdown because she reacts to it with attempts to avoid it like Winston.
Genuinely, no matter the choice it has the potential to result in a bad outcome for the both of you.
So she’s at least going to humor you and partially believe you. That’s not as comforting as you thought it would be, “So do you believe me?”
<No, of course not. What you’ve just explained is the definition of insanity.> Well, no arguments there, <But there may be some truth in your crazy ramblings.>
Eh, it’s the middle ground, you’ll take it. “Thank you, even if you’re just humoring me.”
<Don’t thank me yet, as far I know I’ve been talking to my shadow> Well, that’s-
<My, my, trouble in paradise? To think my dear brother has driven you to the point of talking to your own shadow, Sarabi.> Another figure slinks out of the shadows, this one monochrome unlike Sarabi but you’d see the face of this lion nearly every morning. Safe to say he needs no introduction but regardless-
Sarabi thankfully doesn’t ask him if he can see you, which really would be bad, and instead scowls still just as regal <I was wondering where you’d disappeared to, Scar.> You can hear the angry growl in Sarabi’s voice as she spoke, perhaps your warning struck her deeper than she’d let you see.
The lion that will one day be dubbed the King of Beasts, cocky, proud and annoyingly punchable. Despite his bestial features, you swear you’ve seen someone wearing that same infuriating expression. Which when you think about it, is incredibly unfitting for when the crown prince has gone missing. <How sweet you were thinking of me.>
<Not anymore than I would like.> Sarabi’s expression returns to that deadly poise that scared the shit out of you moments before. Probably because of what you just told her, her suspicion of him is high. <Where have you been the last few hours.>
You watch as Scar circles her like he would his prey, Sarabi doesn’t humor him remaining unbothered and still as he continues his spiel of plausible deniability, <Must you be so skeptical, can’t I just come and go as I please?>
<When I know you have a history of sneaking off to consort with traitors and enemies of the Pride. No.> Sarabi’s composure slips to reveal hatred and anger, the threat of her child possibly being sent to his death, <Especially since, I want to tear your throat out for sending my child to the Elephant Graveyard.>
You expect Scar to flinch, he doesn’t, instead continuing the conversation unbothered as if the accusation of sending the crown prince to his potential death in front of his mother was him accidentally bumping into someone. <There's the temper I love, but what makes you think that I have all people would lure your dear-> Scar says ‘dear’ with so much venom that he might as well have insulted him, <son to his demise.>
<Because you’re the only lion on the rock that would ever say so. No other member of the pride would ever utter that place, let alone to my cub.>
<You can’t fault me for the kids curiosity, I would never have sent my poor nephew to that dreadful place.> So he has no intention of admitting to it, something you probably will have to get used to. Whether this is predicting your tragic love life or your undercover investigation, something told you that this would be a part of your imminent future again.
<Scar, you may have been able to fool Mufasa into thinking the worst thing you’re capable of is not liking Simba, but I never forgot you selling us out all those years ago.> Maybe it was because of what you said, because now she changes the angle of her accusal, <I still remember how angry you got when I rejected you, when I married Mufasa and before and after I gave birth to Simba. You aren’t to be trusted, and I know you have something to do with Simba going there of all places.>
Despite that and her growing hostility, Scar destroys the fragile boundary of personal space and lays his head against her, practically snuggling her. <Oh yes, I remember those days. When I was destined to be king and you were a young lioness that smelled of duck flowers.>
Sarabi recoils like he set her on fire, darting away towards the cave entrance. <Get off me.>
Normally when you have to do that, you have to play nice and act like you wanted to squirm or something, always so scared of the fall out, you can’t help the wince of panic at her cold rejection and expect anger or rage, but Scar doesn’t react like you expected. <Since then you’ve gotten so cold.>
You follow them both out of the cave into the dark grey night, this entire experience had been weird beyond measure, but this feels a different level of strange. Every accusation isn’t responded with anger like the Queen of Hearts had when Winston tried to put his foot down, but this feels more like banter, as if Scar didn’t care as much that she would react like this. It’s discomforting.
So even when Sarabi says <I can’t imagine why, maybe the betrayal that nearly got all of us killed because I fell for Mufasa instead of you?>
Scar’s lack of a reaction just keeps that discomforting feeling going, <And so stubborn. You used to be so much more fun before the brat, no, before Mufasa stole your heart from me> And there it is. The proof that even if the situation was still the same even if the circumstances were different.
<Seriously…> You watch Sarabi’s eyes narrow before glancing back over at you. As if she planned on watering the seed that you’d planted into her head, <You haven’t let that go?>
<Maybe I have, maybe I haven’t.>
Sarabi grumbles, <I understand you feeling slighted that Mufasa took what you think is yours–>
It’s only here Scar’s expression changes from that annoyingly cocky expression to bitterness and resentment, <You have no idea.>
<-But you need to let this all go.> Sarabi’s voice hardens, losing all its softness as it’s replaced with cut-throat seriousness, <This grudge is doing none of us any favors. The fact remains that back then, I never felt anything towards you other than camaraderie that you threw away when you betrayed us. Mufasa is the king, Simba is his heir and that won’t change no matter how much you want it to. Nor will my opinion on you.>
Scar scoffs, his tone rife with bitterness, <You never know what could happen, one day the invincible king could fall and a new king not born of his blood will be on the throne.> He advances, closing the gap between them as he makes what has to be a threat and a promise.
Even with her annoyance bleeding through her untouchable demeanour, Sarabi <Scar->
A roar echoes through the air, louder and deeper from the one that one Sarabi made moments earlier and somehow much friendlier, like the sound of someone coming home. Down below off of the rock and down into the grey-tone grasses of the Savannah, a lion and its cub return. No guesses needed, it’s Simba and Mufasa.
You watch the clear relief form on Sarabi’s face as she’s reassured her family is really safe before it morphs back to her regal grace, <No matter how much you wish otherwise, it’s like I said Scar, whether you like it or not, as long as those two live, they remain more deserving of the throne than you will ever be. And as long as one of them rules, I will never bow my head for you. I suggest you learn to move on and accept it. If you desire kingship so badly, find your own lands to rule over, find a lioness to call your queen and make a pride of your own. Stop obsessing over something you’ll never obtain.>
With that Sarabi bounds down Pride Rock, not sparing Scar even a good bye as she reunites with her family. From this distance you can’t make out words, but you don’t need to. From here, even in the monochrome, you watch a lion family reunite. And frankly, it’s quite sweet. Simba receives a disciplinary knock on the head for his recklessness before Sarabi affectionately nuzzles him before doing a longer, much more lovingly nuzzle with Mufasa. It’s adorable, frankly, to see a genuine family full of genuine love. It’s painful to see though, knowing the chance of it could all fall apart very soon.
And you’re standing right next to the reason.
No matter what Sarabi could say to try and prevent this situation, you could tell from the look of pure hatred Scar has on his face while you watch the happy family reunite, all alive and well, you can tell that this love won’t last long if he has any say in it. Despite Sarabi’s disbelief that Scar wouldn’t attempt to kill Mufasa solely because of her, you’ve seen that raw jealousy on many a face up until this point, and there was no denying the look of clear murderous intent seared into your head a less than a month ago so whatever she hoped or wouldn’t believe would happen might currently be forming whatever evil Scar is plotting in his head.
Your vision blurs as you watch Scar slink into the darkness, but you don’t exactly have time to concern yourself with that right now.
Because morning has arrived, and you have to investigate someone else’s nefarious plot….
Y’know it’s times like this, experiences like this remind you that a lot of the laws back home… are great.
Normally when people try to throw a game back home, maybe they’ll ‘accidentally’ shove an opponent, or kick out their legs, or maybe some rough–housing gone wrong. In any case, these accidents wouldn’t be major and if it did get major, someone would get arrested for assault.
“Alrighty , let’s see what Crowley stuck me w-... What the fuck?!”
Your immediate assumption when you heard schoolyard accidents for the chosen participants for the interdorm competition was maybe a few sprained or twisted ankles and wrists, maybe a couple concussions or some broken ribs. You had thought that people would be considerate enough to not do that when the subject wasn’t their obsessive love.
You were wrong. Again. You’re starting to hate that.
“Uh… dude, are you okay?” You can feel your body cringe in phantom pain at the slight of the Heartslabyul’s student’s leg completely wrapped in gauze with metal braces attempting to hold that guy’s poor leg in a normal leg shape. You heard of people breaking legs from nasty falls but from the looks of all the medical equipment trying to correct it someone tried really hard to make sure the break in his leg was ‘can’t play anymore’-worthy.
Though ‘can’t walk anymore’ would be a more apt estimation.
“H-How did that even happen?” You’re not exactly a doctor but you’re pretty positive the guy broke his femur. Honestly Crowley was right, something is really suspicious about these ‘accidents’.
“Eh? I dunno. It was like my body just lurched forward by itself. I can’t really explain it.” You can’t even comprehend how that would even happen naturally either, maiming in a world with magic seriously is one part an unfair advantage and the other part a terrifying spectacle.
Regardless, just like Crowley had explained last night, it wasn’t just the Heartslabyul students, a Pomefiore student (who tried to fight you by the way, thanks asshole) stuck his hand into a screaming hot cauldron and got only slightly lucky that he ended up with a nasty second degree burn that covered most of his arm.
So naturally you had to eat your words, Crowley actually had a reason to be concerned. The problem was that even after a morning of ‘investigating’ you’d found yourself back at Ramshackle reluctantly agreeing with Grim’s conclusion, “I dunno, this just looks like a bunch of absent-minded kids hurtin’ themselves to me. If there’s a scandal here, I ain’t seein’ it!”
“Me neither.” You’d love to disagree with that but Grim’s right, one student fell down a flight of stairs and the other maybe slipped and dunked his hand into a pot of boiling potion. But from your experience of falling down stairs and earning a concussion, it was still possible that someone got involved with them noticing. But how though was the question. “We gotta find out what’s going on before anyone actually drops dead from these ‘accidents’.”
Well, things could be worse. At least your love life wasn’t getting involved–
-And that was the doorbell, “Mornin’ ________” , ah, speak of the devil.
“Heyyy, Ace.” You snap back into ‘all is well and you’re not suspicious or anxious’ mode. Sure it might not be that but hadn’t exactly planned on your love life getting involved at 8 am, you haven’t mentally prepared yet for whatever direction this is going in. “I thought we were meeting later?”
“What, do I need an excuse to see you?” Ace teases, “Deuce got caught up in something, so I thought we could hang out.” You’re about to accept it and get back into investigating when he adds, “ You’ve got so many people around you lately, we barely get to hang out alone anymore.”
The unconscious but familiar chill down your spine doesn’t go unrecognized, “Actually-”
“We’re kinda busy right now. We’re kinda busy right now. Now time for kid stuff. Scram.” Thank you Grim for the swift conversation exit, he’s been getting really good at that.
“Busy? What, is someone bothering you or something?”
“You could say that Crowley's using me like an errand boy.” Now that you’re thinking about it, getting help might make solving this mystery a little faster, that way less people get injured and more Spelldrive practice time for Grim. Ah, what the hell, “Actually, here’s the deal…”
One quick explanation later, “...Injuries from suspicious accidents, huh?”
“But nothin’, we heard sounded all that suspicious.”
“Couldn’t it have been someone being jealous? If a ton of people got around my darling I would have been pissed too.” Ace asks and you can’t really deny that one, the axe in his hands and blood on his face seared into your memory. It also does not bode well for your future but you’ll ignore that for now.
“That’s what I thought.” At least some people acknowledge the elephant in the room. “But I don’t think that many people would have accidentally interacted with the wrong darling. Even for this world’s standards that seems ridiculous...”
For some reason, saying that leaves a bitter aftertaste on your tongue. You shake off the feeling, it’s probably nothing, “A-Anyway, all these people getting injured before the tournament feels wrong. Almost like someone is trying to sabotage-”
A booming slam cuts you off, echoes through Ramshackle and makes you fear for the sake of your walls as you hear Deuce yell, “Ace, we got a pro- Why are you here with ______!?”
Aw, for fuck’s sake- “Dial it down, Loosey-Deucy. Can’t I hang out with-”
“Shut it, Ace.” You interrupt, stopping this stupid conversation before it descends into a shouting match because no way you’re dealing with this right now, “What is it, Deuce?”
“Trey fell down the stairs! He’s hurt!”
“WHAT?!”
And that was another scoop of ice-cream added onto this chaos sundae. There are a lot of things you could say in response to Trey falling down the stairs. First, Trey was the last person that you’d assume that would just get absent minded and have a bad fall. Someone as detail oriented as Trey wouldn’t have just stopped paying attention enough to fall down a flight of stairs.
So while you couldn’t help but think that this could have been just some mild karma running its course, it was immensely suspicious that this was even happening at the exact same time, everyone else was getting maimed from accidents.
Thankfully for this bad situation, and maybe not that good for your personal situation, you’re not immediately shocked by Trey having sustained some terrible injury and are super relieved to see some gauze and crutches instead of a metal brace and a massive cast. Still, the fact this accident happened at all is still a concern.
“Trey, we came as soon as we heard!” Even though it's not as bad as some of the others you’d seen today, you still wince at the sight of his leg. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now that you’re all here.” Trey’s face brightens up nearly instantly once you come into the room with Ace, Deuce and Grim. Cater’s already there because for some reason fate allows for all of you to interact constantly, and like Trey, his mood brightens instantly with that same discomforting edge that you’re slowly getting used to.
“What exactly happened?” You ask, feeling suspicion overwhelms your concern.
The concern must be evident on your face because Trey tries to calm your nerves. “You don’t need to worry about it, I just slipped on the stairs.”
“Still-” You start, attempting to move closer to Trey just to offer some sympathy only to be stopped by Deuce taking hold of your arm without you noticing and the pressure informing you, you won’t be doing that. It’s so subtle, hopefully at least, that you just abort the motion and carry on talking. “Your leg looks pretty banged up, is it-”
“It’s not broken,” Trey reassures you “I couldn’t catch myself, and my ankle got all messed up. I’ll be on crutches for a while…”
“It’s lucky that it wasn’t anything worse,” Trey’s injury is bad but doesn’t look as bad as some of the others from earlier. Sprained at best, a hairline fracture at worst. “ I’m glad you’ll be okay.” You smile warmly as you finish, because at least he hadn’t cracked his skull open like an egg. Y’know, like you almost did.
Are you still bitter about that? Maybe. But you’ll be a bigger person for now.
At least the somber mood is mostly shared you tune back into what Cater, Ace and Deuce are talking about, “ugh, hashtag #fail! Now that we’ve lost a power player, we have to redo our team roster!-” Huh? But doesn’t that mean-
“Wait, what!?” Your friends/annoyances/possible massive threats go from concerned to excited. Which normally you wouldn’t give a damn about, but you really hate how attacks like this can be waved off thanks to the stupid laws of Sage Island.
“GUYS!” You immediately chastise, trying to maintain the slightest bit of concern for another human that they should have. “Time and place, Trey is still injured!”
As a result of your anger, the switch up is instantaneous, “Sorry, _______.” “Sorry, Prefect.” they both immediately apologize as if only to pacify you. For all you know, they think this is more of an outright blessing rather than a curse. You willfully ignore the apology being directed at you rather than Trey.
Thankfully, Riddle arrives to disrupt the progressively more tense situation.
“Why are there so many people here? Trey is supposed to be resting-” Similarly to Trey and Cater the somber mood on Riddle’s face quickly softens once he notices your presence, just as you really wish would stop happening, the sternness in his tone dissolves into nothing as he “-_____!?”
You only wave a hello, still feeling stupidly awkward and uncomfortable. You’re still sure that the more you’re surrounded, the higher your blood pressure goes up. Thankfully, whatever happened to Trey is distracting Riddle from your awkwardness.
“How are you doing, Trey? Can I bring you anything to eat or drink?”
“I told you, Riddle. You don’t have to fuss over me like this.”
“But it’s my fault that you got hurt.” That sets off something in your brain for two reasons, sure the threat of whatever’s going on but also the whole yandere thing you don’t understand. Has something happened the past few days that you weren’t aware of? Trey being overprotective of Riddle was normal, overblot and no overblot. You’vee taken notice the few times that Trey took care of you that he liked your attention on you, and it felt like he silently liked that Riddle felt so guilty about that too.
“You didn’t tell us that part.”
“I just needed to talk to him, so…” As it turns out, Trey had intervened to prevent Riddle who ‘tripped’ from falling down the stairs and took the fall instead. A good deed on his part, slightly confusing you as to why wouldn’t Trey just let Riddle fall and care about how it affects their future conflict surrounding you. Maybe you just don’t understand because maybe that’s just how friendships between yanderes are. Or maybe unbelievably it’s not about you.
But back on topic, if Trey’s fall was suspicious, Riddle being clumsy or absent-minded enough to just have an accident was so fishy that it started to reek.
“Trey never would have slipped if he hadn’t caught me when I was about to tumble over.”
“Trey fell… trying to stop you from falling?” You mutter to yourself, putting those last few puzzle pieces together. To your side, Ace takes notice.
“It was stupid of me to intervene. So you don’t owe me anything.”
“Still I-”
“Hey, this might not be the best time, but I don’t think-”
You don’t get to finish your interjection as Cater takes hold of your arm, and pulls you into the direction of the door. You instinctively flinch in his hold as you realize that your proximity was getting to Cater a little and silently curse these stupid boundaries you have to put up with to keep the peace. As long as nothing happens to Trey Misery-style you’ll maybe be fine- “All right, peeps, we should let Trey get his rest. Out, out!”
“Wait what?” You object confused as pretty much everyone in the room is, “Now?” as in right when you were about to bring up the whole potential sabotage plot.
Trey tries to interrupt, “You don’t have to-”
On second thought this might be a better thing to discuss this with less people around, so you’ll ignore , “A-Actually, let’s do that Cater! I’ll come visit later, Trey!”
Your switch is immediate once you all leave the room, “Was yanking me away like that really necessary? Cater”
“Totes. Now spill.”
And you do. From Crowley’s original suspicions to the victims you met with earlier, you spill all the details of what you’ve picked up so far as chief investigator of whatever nefarious activity is going down. “And that should cover it…”
“Ah… So the headmaster asked you to investigate.”
“And now, I’m involved AND worried, one wrong accident could lead to someone getting permanently maimed or worse…” “I mean, I’ve already seen too many people almost,” you try to push the scene of the two who absolutely did out of your head, “die. Heck, who knows what could have happened if something went differently with Trey and Riddle.”
Your concern for him makes Riddle’s face slightly flush, which might come back to bite ass later, who’s quick to agree with your concern, “I must admit that I found the circumstances odd as well. I’ve had Cater looking into it for me.”
“And I found out that all the victims have been talented players like Riddle and Trey.”
“You wouldn’t mind letting me on this?”
Another quick explanation comes this time from Cater basically tells you everything you knew, that all the accidents were suspicious, happening to even the most careful students and at least you got some confirmation that all of this was happening to whoever was on their dorm’s rosters. Your sabotage theory held water too, since apparently NRC’s SpellDrive tournament is as internationally recognised as the Olympics back home.
The concerning part is that Riddle made it clear that he wasn’t pushed or had just tripped. Meaning that however the culprit had used their trick to attack the other players was a mystery, a mystery that could result in another incident soon enough.
“But how can we find out how the culprit is doing all this?”
“Th culprit can tell us all about it when we capture him. And we intend to help you do that.”
“MYAH? YOU’RE gonna help us? What’s your angle!” The thought of the negative repercussions of this didn’t really hit you until Grim objected. Considering that they’re all technically rivals from the last time you checked for all you know this is a campaign to get rid of some people you’ve forgotten about interacting with.
“You offend us, sir. One of our housemates was injured- why wouldn’t we help him find justice.” Cater acts all offend playfully, but it’s more that Grim has learned that you’re uncomfortable being around them for so long, so often. But you’ll bite your tongue on that one.
“We’re all house-buds here. Count us in.” Ace volunteers.
And there was the ever present suspicion you carry coming right when needed. “Grim’s a little right,” You point out, disguising it as a teasing joke, “you know, I’m sure you two have something to gain trying to help out with this.”
Deuce tries to deny that, “N-No! That has nothing to do with it, I just want to avenge our housemate, ” but you know them well enough by now to know that it has to do with the prestige and the fact that you’ll be cheering them on if they participate, well, more hands on deck and eyes on you aren’t going to be discouraged by you.
Riddle concedes to allow them to participate if they help with the investigation. And the plan has been set.
Stakeout the next, potential victims to make sure nothing happens to them and to potentially catch the perpetrator in the act. A perfect-ish plan, and just to be sure they’re as enthusiastic about this especially after you mentioned that Crowley owes you and Grim would participate in the tournament if you solved you and Grim might be able to join you both in the tournament =if you all investigate together. A momentary shot in the dark, but sometimes you don’t miss. The thoughts in both of their heads now, and if they weren’t sold because of what Riddle said or just the promise of spending time with you, they definitely were now.
“Well, what are we waitin’ around here for? Let’s go!”
First up, Pomefiore- “Yeah, no. We’re not doing that.”
“Hey, uh, Prefect. Not that I’m not against hanging in the hall of mirrors with you, the whole point of staking out the teams means we have to, y’know, go to the dorm?”
“Honestly, Ace, I think that dorm can handle it.” You take a cautious step away from the mirror like Rook Hunt is going to pop out of it. Whoever is behind the accidents, maybe they’ll aim to slow him down a little because you’d like to actually remove the boards of your windows and feel safe afterwards. “Maybe they'll break an arm, maybe they’ll crack their skulls open and go into a coma. I don’t care but I’m not staking them out.”
“Ah…” Riddle acknowledges, like he already knows about who you’re trying to avoid without you even having to say anything. “Did you happen to meet their vice dorm leader?”
“Oh, we met alright. And honestly if he gets attacked, maybe just maybe, I don’t have to be as paranoid of him being constantly right behind me.”
Ace and Deuce’s faces immediately darken in response to your anger, with Deuce immediately “What the hell is this guy’s deal?!”
“IYKYK, Adeuce.” Cater wears the same knowing understanding that Riddle does, which simultaneously calms your concern and increases your fear. “Everyone at NRC knows Rook is a lil’ cray-cray.”
Wait, seriously? “He’s weird even for you guys?” You can barely believe that, you just assumed that that behavior was stupidly common. If it wasn’t, you would thank whatever god this world had for allowing you a small break. “I thought that was more normal?”
“Hardly. Rook Hunt is known for being… eccentric, nearly all of the non-human members of Hertslabyul have brought me complaints against him for a reason.”
“The guy’s gotta taste for the exotic, maybe that’s why he’s interested in you, ______.” Cater’s justification would be a believable excuse if you hadn’t read a sexy love letter a couple days ago. But if that’s the conclusion he
“So, he’s bothering ______ because she’s from another world…” Deuce thinks aloud, probably believing it. You breathe a small sigh of relief, because if that’s what they believe it makes it a little easier to not be completely stressed about people getting murdered again.
Whatever keeps that dread looming in the shadows away-“Nah, that can’t be right.” Wait, what Grim- “______ was just complainin’ about how the creep’s botherin’ her because she’s-”
You quickly slap a hand over Grim’s mouth before he can make this situation far worse. “Shut up, Grim!” You hiss between your teeth as quietly as possible before smiling like your blood pressure hadn’t spiked and calmly saying “So if we’re all for avoiding Rook, let’s go check on whoever’s next!”
It’s such a shame that you weren’t paying that much attention to the way Riddle tensed when you said that. Would have been a nice warning to what was about to happen…
“Alr, Cater’s data! Pay close attention to the Leech Twins, Jade and Floyd.”
“Sorry, did you say ‘Leech’?” You ask, peeking out of your respective bush, you distinctly remember having ghosted a guy named Jade Leech because of a second opinion, from what you recall the person who gave you that second opinion warned you both brothers were bad. It can’t be that bad though right?
“Word is, they work so well together on the field that other teams don’t know how to counter them.”
“Whoa! They have, like, the exact same face!” Yeah, it’s equal parts cool and terrifying. Cool because they look like each other’s mirror images and terrifying like the identical twins in horror movies. You see what that kind stranger meant, maybe they were a little scary. Though to be fair, you only met one of them and sure maybe you were getting a bad vibe thanks to being freshly traumatised.
“Is it just me, or do they make all the other students look tiny in comparison? They’re giants!” And Ace is right, the twins are both frighteningly tall, anyone could see they probably have a massive advantage so it explains why they could be targeted.
“I don’t know about that.” Riddle says, sounding so uneasy that you “If I were the culprit, I’d save them for last.” Well, that’s not a good sign.
Tearing your gaze from the twins, you ask, “Uh, Riddle, what makes you say that…” You already barely knew about one of them, and from what you remembered they were at best dangerous and at worst… well worse than that. Going off vibes alone, their presence was already intimidating, but that could just be you being you, and from literally everything about Riddle’s description reminds you of yourself when describing Rook.
“Just look at those two. I wouldn’t want to get anywhere near them- especially Floyd.” Oh, so the bad experience he went through was that bad. Well at least, you’re all gathered at a distance so he’s got no way of seeing–
“OOOH! It’s the little Goldfishie! Oh?”
Fuck- “AHHH!” You’re mid-way through turning around to see who the hell is talking to you, when a pair of arms wrap around your waist haul into the air, off to a lovely start. What a great way to meet Floyd Leech. Your blood turns ice cold so fast, you might as well be looking a great white shark in the face from how predatory look in that carefree face was. “And who’s this?”
“Hi…I’m ______?” You say, feeling your wildly beating heart in your throat. Maybe it’s not that bad, maybe this is how he greets people. He’s supposed to be the not-that dangerous one…
“Mind if I squeeze ya?” You take that back, you don’t like how that sounds.
“Ye-!” Unfortunately, that question was apparently rhetorical. Because seconds later the grip he has on your midsection turns crushing, squeezing the precious air out of your lungs and sending your rib cage hard and bruising into your vital organs; and sending you choking. So in a word, ow.
No wonder Riddle hates this guy, your ribs aren’t exactly fond of this first impression.
“Floyd, put her down this instant!” You beg some being out there to get Floyd to listen to Riddle, so you can have your feet on the ground and away from this guy.
“Aw, Goldfishie.” “It’s almost like you’re jealous I’m squeezing her instead of you.” You can hear Riddle’s angry scream of indignation has Floyd all but dangles you out of reach like a bully would a toy. You can already feel the bruises forming on your torso as you're held in Floyd’s hold like a ragdoll.
“Listen… to him…!” You say on the little air you have left, squirming and hitting Floyd’s arms with your comparatively pathetic strength against that horribly strong grip on your torso.
“Aww, look at you, squirming around like a little shrimp afraid of being someone’s lunch!” “And on that note, you're teeny, I’ma call you Shrimpy from now on!”
“The hell she is, let her go!”
“Aww, you’re so crabby. I’ll call ya that from now on.” Floyd re-adjust his hold on you, exchanging his hold on you from the bone-crushingly tight hold with both arms to somehow worse with one. Even scarier that he can hold you and crush your ribs one armed but not important. “Y’know, I love crabs. If ya squeeze hard enough you can crush ‘em.” The carefree tone vanishes, replaced in one oozing with violent intent. You swear that you can hear his knuckles cracking in anticipation like it's a warning.
Bad tone shift, very bad tone shift.
Great, you can’t breathe and now there’s going to be a fight because Floyd is apparently that kind of bad, the kind that is unpredictable. Note to self, avoid this guy once you get out of here.
A laugh that grossly does not match the direness of your situation slips through the chaos coming from the other twin. Jade Leech hums a laugh as if this was just a light-hearted comedy. “My, if this isn’t a sight. How nice to see you again, _______.”
“I… wish… I could… say the… same.” You slowly choke out with what little air you’ve got left. “Help…”
“Let her go, Floyd. The poor thing is turning such an enticing shade of blue.” Normally, if you had heard someone, especially someone you were warned about saying that about you, the fear and panic would have sent you on a curse-ladden anxiety-filled downward spiral. Sadly that didn’t register thanks to the lack of oxygen in your head right now as you feel yourself starting to gasp for air like a dying fish.
“Fineeee.” Floyd whines, and finally lets you go. To which you take a deep breath to fill your painfully empty lungs. Once again, OW.
You hiss through gritted teeth once you finally hit the ground and stubble wobbly into Ace and Deuce’s hold away from Floyd. Excusing your own discomfort being around them because honestly, you’d rather be around them than this guy. They react just like you hoped they would, sheltering you behind them, allowing you to enjoy the breathing again.
“Can we get out of here? We learned all we needed to, let’s just go.”
“Leaving so soon?” Jade asks, as if he hadn’t witnessed everything that he’d witnessed.“Whyever would you do that?” What is he going on about?
“We are just making sure you’re okay. Now that we see you are, we will be on our way.” You’re about to walk away but after one measly step forward and a hand flies out and catches your wrist so quickly and tightly you’re stopped in your tracks.
No guesses as to who it is because from strength alone that it’s an exact , that you’re forced to learn that its strength is a literal mirror of Floyd’s. No guesses needed because it’s Jade’s and you can feel your blood pressure going up again. “Going so soon?”
The deceivingly calm and amiable tone combined with the grip on your wrist makes a panicky and nervous laugh leave your vocal chords without your permission as you feel the cold dread worm its way back into your stomach. “W-W-What do you mean?”
“We can’t let spies go unpunished, can we?” By luck itself, you’re able to pull your arm free and take some tentative steps back and away. So literally everyone warning you was right, both brothers were bad news.
“We should probably go!” Riddle appears to share your sentiment, which tells you all you need to know.
“Like hell we will! This guy–” You reflexively slap a hand over Deuce’s mouth before he gets himself choked out.
“Pick your battles better, Deuce.” You hiss between gritted teeth. No matter how deceivingly safe Jade Leech looks, his eyes are dead cold and you don’t want anyone to get brutally assaulted. Or do brutal assaults but not the point. “If he says we should leave, we leave–”
“But why?” Just to make your heart palpitate more and more, they smile, no grin, just like they’re twins in a horror movie, “We just wanna chat~” The twins’ terrifying toothy grin is all the warning your little investigation team needs before you all make the correct decision, and take off like two demons which now that you think about it that is a good description are after you. Which is half right, because Floyd Leech chases after you!
“C’mon! C’mon! Let’s PLay!” LIKE HELL YOU’D DO THAT.
“EVERYONE, RETREAT!” No need to tell you twice, if you could help it you’re probably going to stay as far away as possible.
THE SOONER, THE BETTER.
Gasping for breath after having it cut off is very much no fun, but it’s better than choked by one of the terror twins.
“Riddle…” You say in between breaths, “I see why you hate those guys. I’m pretty sure I do too now.” Honestly now you’re more scared than angry, getting your ribs nearly broken from a surprise ‘hug’ that ended with them both being so creepy when you first met really just set that first impression in stone, you don’t even want to know what they did to Riddle to make him reach that same opinion.
“While I’m happy that you understand how dangerous those two are…” Riddle starts concerned, which was not in the direction that you thought it would, “Are you alright?”
“Huh? There’s no need to worry, I’m fine!” Sure, you weren’t for a while and their concern is pretty valid; the last time you were injured, two people died and you secured a spot in therapy once you got back home.
“The hell, you were literally turning purple from how tight Floyd was holding you.” Ace objects, both mad and concerned, “There’s no way you’re fine, _______.”
Sure, your ribs are smarting like they got hit with a sledgehammer, but you clearly managed to run and walk so, “You guys, don’t have to worry. I got some bruises maybe. You don’t have to make it worse than it is.”
But your words don’t hold any weight when they’re so angry, because Ace is too angry to concern himself with your attempt to call him down. “What the hell is their problem?”
“I don’t know! “ You can see the angry redness of barely bottled up rage appear in Riddle’s face as he speaks. “Those two have baffled me since we were freshmen first year!”
“Guys-” You say weakly, feeling dread pool in your stomach from the memories of what happened the last time they were this riled up.
“Messing with those two is real bad news but srs, it’s fucked up.” You feel another shudder of anxiety and panic head up on down your spine.
“I don’t care what their problem is,” Deuce’s voice is a mix of deep-seated anger and concern for your well-being, “I swear, I going to-”
“Deuce, you’re not doing anything. None of you are. I probably have a few bruises, but I’m fine. None of you should get yourselves into trouble for my sake.” If Deuce keeps going off the handle “I’ll just avoid them from now on. Let’s get back to the stakeout, at least we know that the culprit probably won’t be bothering them.”
Looking at their faces, you can tell that you just slapped a bandage on the outrage but hopefully staying off that topic will get them to move on from it before someone gets hurt. “Who’s next on the list, Cater?”
“Ha. Well, it’s getting dark, so the next guy might be the last look of the day so ______ can rest” Cater’s change from genuine anger to smothered rage buried under his cheery mask in response to your bandage solution is jarring, like it was almost entirely fake only there so he can get you to rest after your ‘attack’.
“Then, we should better get moving.”
You notice something dark in Cater’s eyes for a split second. “Hol up, it’s past five. Riddle shouldn’t you be back at Heartslabyulenforcing the rules? I saw some students playing crochet b4 we left.”
Your resulting confusion is answered when Riddle recoils like he’s made a huge mistake. “Ugh! You’re absolutely right. I need to return to the dorm.” Wow, Cater. Using Riddle's rule trauma to get him to leave. A dick move but a smart one since the trauma’s still fresh. You gotta use that one day. “But I should stay just in case something happens.”
Maybe your nerves are shot but you can stand to be around less people right now while tensions are high. “It’s okay, we’ll meet up with you later to tell you how it goes.” You drop your voice, prepared to keep the green of envy away from your not-very good going day. “And maybe you can tell me later about how to avoid the Leech twins, for both our sakes.”
The offer of spending more time with you is probably too sweet for him to reject, so your group reduces by one. “I-I look forward to it. But if anyone else attempts to put their hands on you again, let me know because it will be off with their heads.”
A familiar chill goes down your spine. “You don’t actually have to do that, Riddle.” You mutter futilely.
Done waving Riddle off, you shake off the nerves and get back on topic. “Now then, who’s left?” You feel the need to cross your fingers and pray to whatever is out there to not let this guy be weird or creepy like the last three were. It might not end up protecting the guy if you’re ready to find the nearest blunt object and beat them with it for the sake of your mental health.
“Hmmm. The student on my list is a first year student from Savanaclaw…”
“Jack Howl.”
Hopefully this one is less than a crazy red flag like the last three.
Heading to Savanaclaw, it, like when you first saw Hearslabyul, is like stepping into another world but simultaneously not.
“Whoa…” One foot through the mirror to Savanaclaw’s dorm and you feel like you’d been sent back to your dreams from the night before but in full color. Unlike Heartslabyul with its rose garden, the environment here is like the savannah, with the dorm literally being built into a large mountain. You can’t deny that you’re awestruck, but not only because of the impressive, primal environment of Savanaclaw but also because it means your inkling on the dreams foreshadowing your future was still true. Good to know.
“Whoa!” Grim is as in awe as you are it seems, “Did they carve this place into a mountain? And check out these huge bones! I wouldn’t wanna meet whatever animal they’re from!” At least, he’s here to melt the tension from earlier away.
At least for you. For the others, the tension is still there though.
“So what’s this Jack guy look like?” Ace’s voice doesn’t carry his normal laid-back energy, still agitated from earlier.
“Let’s see…” Even the normally animated tone in Cater’s voice feels a little faux in your ears. The mood of your group really did get ruined, “Apparently he’s got wolf ears, silver hair and a big, bushy tail.”
“Oh! You mean him? The guy running laps around the yard!” Grim points your target out, and you can immediately see why this guy might be a target.
Jack does live up to the reputation on Cater’s list of potential top-contenders, even just watching him run you can’t deny the guy pretty much looks like strong competition on the field embodied, buff, tall, athletic, but once again because someone out there likes to make your life that much harder, he’s hot. Maybe the werewolf crazies back home really were on to something.
Despite all that though, he’s a little… “He’s kind of intimidating…” You accidentally utter aloud. Despite your cocky demeanour the last time you accidentally pissed off a Savanaclaw member, you nearly got your teeth caved in and from the way this guy is scowling and that last experience, maybe it was right to be a little worried.
“Gettin’ a little nervous there, ______? Don’t worry, hon! Cay-Cay’s got your back.” Apparently, Cater heard you, his smile seeming more genuine than the faux one from earlier, “I won’t let the big bad wolf bite you.”
Well, fuck. You just felt your blood pressure spike.
Whether that’s a response to the chaos of earlier, you quickly slap on one of your most deceivingly genuine smiles and say, “I-I’m fine, let’s just-”
“Hey, you! Mr.Scowls-A-Lot!” You’re mid way between reassuring yourself and trying to stop any other seeds from being sown when Grim opens his mouth. Nerves aside, you instinctively face-palm. Grim was never one for subtlety. After everything happening today so far, you can feel your fear slowly turning to anger and exasperation rising.
“Just wanted to let ya know somebody’s probably gonna try and hurt you. But don’t worry! The Great Grim will protect-MMPH”
“Grim,” You say as ‘warmly’ as possible, with your hand over your very much not subtle friend/roomie’s mouth before he can accidentally word it worse, “You weren’t supposed to tell him that part.”
Of course, thanks to Grim you had to rush over. Though, oddly enough, you notice his nose scrunch up once you’ve come closer, like he caught a whiff of a certain smell. You hope you don’t smell or anything. He doesn’t say anything about it, but something about it makes you take notice. Hasn’t that exact same thing happened before with another Beastman though?
You quickly clear your throat, and try to disguise that slowly bubbling rage with faux warmth, “So sorry, Jack? Grim didn’t mean to word it like that.” The ‘try’ part might not be working though, you can hear your teeth grinding together as you try to just grit and bear it.
While you’re busy giving Grim the ‘you fucked up’ eye, Cater steps in to continue damage control, “Liten king, could we have just a minute of your time?”
“What’s all this about?” Why is watching you as he talks? He has a strange look in his eye too- “You say you’re going to keep me safe?”
“A lot of SpellDrive tournament hopefuls have been hurt in ‘accidents’ on campus lately.”
“And we’re trying to figure out who’s behind it.”
“Go on.” You can feel a swell of relief at the fact this guy is actually going to hear you out this time rather than react like the two from earlier did. If it goes like this maybe convincing Jack won’t be that hard.
“To put it bluntly, our plan is to stake out some of the criminal’s prospective targets.” Cater explains, but Jack’s basically unreadable as he hears the news of a threat against his health and safety like Cater is describing the weather. Still, that could be him mulling it over. “What do you say? Will you give us a hand in catching this guy?”
Jack pauses for a moment, contemplative. Which means he’s mulling it over. Which is great because maybe, just maybe, someone is actually going to hear you out and maybe you’ll be able to make some headway today. Isn’t that-
“No.” What.
“W-What?” You stammer, surprised. “Why not?!”
“I can take care of myself. I don’t need your protection.” Jack replies and if you didn’t want to be a hypocrite, you would admit that Jack had a point that he had the right to privacy and not putting up with you or the others just because you said so.
“What do you mean?!” You object. You could get not wanting to be spied on by your rival dorm, maybe if that was the reason he gave you about not wanting protection, but it's ridiculous to not accept the help when he’s aware of the threat. “You could get seriously injured if you’re on your own, it’s a stupid idea to stay alone.”
“...” Jack grumbles,
“_____-”
“Shut up, Ace!” You say a lot harsher than you mean to. Maybe it’s the day getting to you but for the second time today dealing with someone who’s not taking the situation as seriously as you are is really aggravating. “Whether you like it or not, Jack. Someone might be coming after you.”
“You think someone’s gonna come after me, but I’m pretty sure….” Jack hesitates here, and your interest reaches its absolute peak. “They won’t.”
Hearing that makes you go rigid. What did that mean? You can feel all your new BS alarm going off like mad hearing that. Like he knew something was going on but wasn’t going to give you all the luxury of telling you. This is really starting to piss you off.
And for better or worse, that anger started boiling over.
“See ya.” Jack turns to leave but-
“Not so fast.”
You’re nowhere near as strong as Jack probably is, and are probably sporting some weak noodle arms in comparison to his literal cannons Jack has as biceps. But maybe you gain the strength of a hundred men when you’re angry. You feel that last strand of calm snap and fuel the fire of your anger finally bubbling over into just barely restrained rage. Your arm lashes out and grabs the front of Jack’s shirt so fast, he can’t stop you from hauling him down to your eye level, before you all but growl, “What the hell do you mean, that ‘they won’t’?”
You may not be completely aware of how this world works, but you’re not dumb. Yeah, Grim just blurted that out for the world to hear about someone coming after the students, but something didn’t make sense about how he was so sure that this unknown person wasn’t going to target him. “Look, I don’t care if you don’t want us to stick around, but I’m not dumb enough to ignore what you said. What did you mean?”
You stop to catch your breath and it’s only now you realise you’ve stunned everyone.
Even though you're looking Jack directly in the face, you haven’t noticed that the completely stunned look on his face hasn’t changed in the time that you’ve started interrogating him. And when you finally break for air, he’s so speechless that he doesn’t say anything to fill the silence in the air.
He’s not the only one either. Now hyper aware of the silence, you slowly turn to the others. Their reactions were what you somewhat expected. Ace looks so amused, watching you pull a giant wolf beastmen down to size like a chihuahua threatening a wolf. For some reason, Deuce looks mystified by you losing your every loving shit like that, maybe he was thinking you had a little delinquent in you after all. And Cater’s recording you, looking quite entertained but his eyes have that lingering danger you’ve been made very familiar with.
Wonderful. The rage in you is temporarily smothered and your voice suddenly softens, “Look, Jack. We’re just trying to look out for you. I’m just trying to look out for you. If you know something, tell us.”
“T-There’s nothing for me to say.”
The anger you smothered flares back up. Though you do notice the stutter… “FINE.” You grind out.
You let go of the front of Jack’s shirt and take one long, deep and not all that calming deep breath. “FINE.” You grind out. ‘I’m fine. If you don't want our help, you’ll be fine on your own. LET’S GO.” The last two words come out so rough and genuinely angry that despite owning human vocal chords you basically growled.
The anger is so clear in your voice that it’s clear this is non–negotiable. Because is everyone in this school either allergic to help or super weird about it?!
Jack still says awkwardly silently, as though he doesn’t know what to say or he doesn’t know how to react to it. He eventually slinks away somewhere but you can’t bring yourself to care.
You’re in the middle of stomping away, muttering that topic over and over again in your head when Grim breaks through some of those especially furious thoughts, “Geez, henchman. You don’t even yell at me like that.”
The rage subsides, “S–Sorry…”
Ace pipes up, “Don’t apologize, that was fun to watch.”
“Really?”
“You’ve been really quiet and antsy lately, I’m kinda not used to seeing you angry like that.”
“R-Really?” Have you really become like that lately? Like Winston had been? With how annoying today has been thus far, maybe a lot of the pent up anger and discomfort just released through that. You should start doing that more.
“Yeah, you’re cute when you’re angry. It’s why I don’t mind you yellin’ at me all the time/” Nevermind then.
“W-What about you, Deuce? Cater?”
“I–It’s… nice…” Deuce stammers out, losing some of that fragile control over acting natural around you and really just proving that you did in fact rock his world.
“I think it’s adorbs.” Cater all but coos, as he looks at you like one of those cute animal videos, “Like a smol angry hedgehog.”
The tension from earlier has finally melted away for them but has renewed for you. Lovely.
Eager to change the subject, you switch topics, “W-We should probably go now. It’s getting late, we probably should regroup for tomorrow-”
“Well, Well, Well. Whaddya doing on our turf?”
Oh, fantastic, more of those kind of guys….
A group of Savanclaw students, all tall and athletic, looming over you and the others like giants announce their presence like a bunch of pompous assholes. From their tone alone, you can tell they mean trouble.
“Heh! It’s the redheaded princeling’s little henchmen!”
“You didn’t honestly think you could barge into our territory and make it out in one piece, did ya?”
They taunt like animals guarding their territory. You don’t like where this is going.
“Wow, anyone else having deja vu?” Deuce points out. And he’s right, because of the Leech twins from earlier, did you seriously walk into that again!? Though to be fair, the Leeches were a lot more intimidating.
“Fine, we’re leaving. Sorry for bothering you.” Ace tries to move past him so you can all go back to the Mirror and leave already but one of the jocks blocks him. Which means that whoever this is going to end. It’ll be after a few fists start flying.
“Hey, let’s play a game of cat and mouse!” What was with people on campus just wanting to beat the crap out of each other and playing twisted games?! Was it to fill the voids in the hearts or something!? Though given the whole deal with this world maybe this was a side effect. “Of course, you guys get to be the mice.”
“We run?” Cater asks as you all take a collective step back.
“We run.” You agree, before you all turn heel and dash.
Sadly you don’t make it far. Whether it’s residual because of the fresh, slow-blooming pain across your entire rib cage or the fact you’re being chased by the athletic dorm really just putting you at a massive disadvantage, but you feel a hand manage to grip the back of your blazer and drag you backwards hauling you up like a literal caught mouse.
“Let me go!” You demand as you struggle helplessly against the grip and You should probably do some more cardio later, getting caught so easily is not a good premonition of your future.
“Don’t you dare touch her.” Deuce’s voice drops several degrees of dangerousness the second you’re caught. His fear for your safety trumping his desire to keep out of fights, if it weren’t for the fact you were all completely outnumbered and you were slowly
“Aww.” The jock holding you by your blazer mocks, pulling his fist back probably with intent to smash it clean into your face. “You wimps are so protective of people like her. She can take it.” What the hell did that mean?! Was it something darling specific that you hadn’t been clued on?
That thought alone causes the anger to resurge within you like a second wave.
All you were trying to do was live life without the threat of your friends being obsessed with you overtaking it or without innocents dying. But that line alone enrages you so much that you suddenly stop caring.
“Fine. Do it.” You mutter, suddenly fearless. Let this guy dig his own grave. You’re too pissed off to care.
The overgrown imbecile doesn’t take clear hint that this will end very badly for him. Like an empty-headed jock, he draws his fist back and scoffs, “Fine by me!” ready to pound your face in. You hope you don't flinch or brace for impact, not wanting to give the bastard the satisfaction before your three problems try to tear him apart-
“That’s enough.”
You’re taken aback as someone familiar grabs the bully’s arm before he beats your face in. Was someone trying to do the right thing and intervene? Maybe this world wasn’t too fargone… after… all…
Wait a damn minute, you recognise him. And he’s not a knight in shining armor, he's an fucking asshole.
And like he hadn’t just helped you, you just redirect your anger from your earlier grudge.
“Oh, if it isn’t the overgrown housecat.” Maybe that was a dumb thing to say, because some of the lackeys openly baulked at what came out of your mouth, but the petting zoo gone rabid being shocked at what you have to say isn’t concerning in the slightest. “What? If you can’t punch my face in, he can’t either?”
“Hey… I know you.” Leona recognises you almost as fast as you did, “You’re the herbivores who stepped on my tail at the botanical gardens.”
“Oh, I am honoured you remember me.” You say as sarcastically as possible, “You still seem like a jackhole though.” You don’t know how you went from demure and fearful to not giving a crap about who’s listening, but you’re not turning it off any time soon.
“Heh...” Leona ‘laughs’ but it sounds more like he’s entertained by your behavior rather than outright making fun of you, “The Herbivore still has a mouth on her.”
The lackeys that once looked so confident and ‘scary’ trying to push you around completely blanch at the thought of a ‘pipsqueak’ like you did that and lived. You’ll take the confidence boost, and keep mouthing off.
“Well, it isn’t shutting up anytime soon, so I suggest you get used to it.” You sass back.
“Wait, _______. You know this guy?” Ace asks, which you are quick to brush off because it is that unimportant.
“We met because of the tart nonsense because I accidentally stepped on his tail and he over–reacted. It’s not that important.”
As you just did, it also seems that Grim has reunited with his own past grudge, “And it’s you! The Deluxe Ham And Cheese Burglar!!” You completely forgot about that part dealing with your own angst and issues, but now that you pay attention to it. Grim’s right, that is the food thief.
Albeit not as big an issue in the grand scheme of things, but you digress.
“Hey now, friend, Let's not get carried away with such delicious sounding nicknames.” Anger with Leona aside, you will admit that you let out a snort at that. Grim getting out played by a food thief is still a little funny. You do notice that Ruggie’s ears twitch a little when you laughed. “I have a proper name befitting my manly stature. It’s Ruggie Bucchi. Don’t wear it out.
“Well, it’s nice to meet you for real, Ruggie. We’ll be on our way now. Thanks for the save.” Unfortunately, unlike last time, you don’t have an easy exit since you’re all still surrounded. Great….
And you’re probably still at the mercy of those useless lackeys who still look completely dumbstruck that you haven’t been hit with retribution for your snark. “What, so you’re just gonna let ‘em walk away?” and “Not even a little nibble on ‘em a little.” You don’t want to know. You just don't want to know.
“No one said anything about letting them go. We’ll resolve this peacefully...” Leona summons the disk with magic, “... with a ‘friendly’ game of SpellDrive.”
Oh, there’s nothing friendly about this game. You’re the only one besides Cater in your group to not be a little excited once the ‘friendly’ game was revealed.
“Are you serious?” You mutter, face deadpan, “We could seriously just leave.” Honestly, all of this seemed a little overdramatic and wholly unnecessary. Kind of how this kind of day has been so far. Honestly with how annoying this all is, it would be nice to throw a SpellDrive disk around and hope it hits one of the many annoyances dead in the face.
Maybe you’re not as anti-violence as you thought you were.
Ruggie laughs akin to a hyena, which is the beast part of him but unimportant, “You’re malicious, Leona. These wimps won’t last a single game.”
And down goes the gauntlet. Ace and Grim are down minute one. Grim more out of outrage and Ace because of the SpellDrive roster thing and also because of that one promise you made yesterday, Deuce and Cater are more reluctant like you would have been a moment ago.
You’re about to agree because, admittedly, it’d be great to get retribution somehow for this massive waste of time. Take out your anger on the arrogant prick Leona, and maybe a little bit of revenge for Grim because of Ruggie’s snack-stealing, but the moment you would have yelled ‘I’m in,’ you have to cringe from the pain of a sudden flare on the bruising on your torso brushing against your shirt, making you hiss in pain
“O-On second thought. Can I sit this one out? My ribs got crushed a little earlier.” You mutter, to the group who had witnessed your unfortunate squeezing but as you voice your weakness you notice one of Leona’s ears twitch as if signalling he heard you.
“For a herbivore, who talks a big game you’re all bark and no bite.” Leona says with all the fondness he can muster. Again with the just almost mocking tone, that makes you wish that you chose to play so you could hurl one of those heavy looking discs at Leona’s face to shut him up for once.
“Oh, I’d love to quick your sorry ass. But sadly, I think I used all my energy for a game on something, no, some people; more important.” The last few times you’d insulted or sassed him, he looked unbothered, like you were just a nuisance in the way that he was humoring. That’s not the case right now, because being so close to Leona you can notice the notable flinch he makes when you ‘suggest’ that he wasn’t important enough for you to waste your time on.
Whatever it is, it's not your problem.
“Kh… if the little herbivore wants to keep hiding, who am I to stop her.” You flush with anger, in response to that. The chance may not be high, but you’d love to see if Ace, Deuce, Cater and Grim can kick his arrogant butt at Spelldrive.
“_____, you can watch from the sidelines. Try to read their movements and convey it to us, okay?”
“Gotcha.” Even if Cater’s ‘asking’ you to watch from the sidelines, that's kind of where you already wanted to be anyway. Because, forced or not, this game might help you learn about whoever’s causing these accidents.
Your new bone to pick with Savanaclaw puts them high on your list.
Hey bae i love your writing so much could you do a teen dean winchester.
can it be where it’s in the 2000s, reader is one of the popular girls at school, she’s a cheerleader and has the perfect life. When one day she’s partnered for a projected with the new kid dean who’s supposedly the bad boy of the school, after a little while she starts fallinging in love with dean
summary: you're the cheerleader with a life that everyone wants. dean is the bad boy that everyone wants. what could go wrong when you both team together for a school project?
word count: 1,218
pairing: teen!dean winchester x reader
now playing;｡･:*♫♪ delicate - taylor swift
i loved this, i hope u do too!!
⛧°. ⋆༺☾𖤓༻⋆. °⛧
The air in Mr. Shepard's English class smells faintly of chalk dust, old paper, and the cheap perfume that clings to the desks after lunch. The fluorescent lights hum overhead: a constant, annoying buzz, and you’re half-listening, half-checking your reflection in the tiny pink mirror tucked inside your notebook.
Your lip gloss is perfect. Your French manicure gleams when it catches the light. Everything about you; your outfit, your grades, your position on the cheer squad screams effortless. You’ve worked hard to make it look that way.
And then Shepard ruins it.
“For your next assignment,” he announces, scribbling on the board, “you’ll be working in pairs.”
The class groans. You suppress a sigh and twist a strand of hair around your finger. Pairs means chaos. It means someone else dragging down your grade because they don’t care about symbolism or deadlines.
Shepard starts reading names off a clipboard, and your stomach tightens.
“Winchester. Dean Winchester.”
You glance up, scanning the room. He’s in the back, because where else would he be? And he's leaning in his chair with an easy slouch, sleeves of his worn leather jacket rolled up to the elbows.
There’s a faint smirk on his mouth like he’s perpetually amused. He doesn’t look like anyone here—not with that messy hair and the old band tee that breaks the school’s dress code by about five different rules.
“Y/N,” Crowley continues. “You’re with him.”
It’s like someone pressed pause on your perfect day.
The class murmurs. A few heads turn. You catch your best friend’s wide-eyed oh my God across the room.
Dean looks up, eyes finding yours. They're green, bright, a little dangerous, and he grins. Slow. Knowing.
Of course he does.
You find him by the lockers after the bell, because someone has to take charge.
He’s leaning against the metal, spinning his car keys around his finger like he’s posing for a magazine. There’s a faint scent of engine grease and smoke in the air. It's not unpleasant, it's just him.
“Winchester,” you start, hands on your hips. “We need to figure out when to work on this project.”
He looks up, all lazy charm. “Well, hey there, princess. Didn’t think you’d actually come find me.”
Your brows lift. “I didn’t come to find you. I came to make sure you don’t tank my grade.”
He grins wider, shameless. “Relax. I’ve done school before.”
“Yeah? And how’d that go?” you ask, too sweetly.
Dean chuckles under his breath. “Touché.”
You ignore the flicker of warmth that rolls through you. “Tomorrow after practice. Library. Four o’clock. Don’t be late.”
He shrugs, easy as anything. “No promises.”
You turn on your heel before he can see the smile threatening to pull at your lips.
He’s late.
Of course he’s late.
The library is quiet, sunlight filtering through the dusty blinds, and you’ve been sitting there for twenty minutes, trying not to glance at the clock every thirty seconds. Your notebook is open, pen poised, irritation simmering.
You’re two seconds from giving up when the door creaks open.
“Relax, cheerleader,” Dean says as he saunters in, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Didn’t think you’d miss me that much.”
You look up, unimpressed. “You’re twenty-three minutes late.”
He drops into the chair across from you, smirk never fading. “Traffic.”
“It’s Kansas,” you deadpan.
He leans forward on his elbows, his voice dropping a notch lower. “Maybe I just like keeping you waiting.”
You glare, but your pulse stutters anyway.
It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating.
You shove your notes toward him. “Let’s just get this over with.”
But as you start talking through the project, something unexpected happens. He listens. Really listens. His jokes fade into thoughtful observations about The Great Gatsby—sharp, funny, a little cynical. He remembers details from the book that even you skimmed over.
“You’ve read it?” you ask, unable to hide your surprise.
“Sure,” he says, flipping through the pages. “Guy throws parties for a girl who doesn’t love him back. Big house, flashy car. Guess some people think love’s a competition.”
You blink. “That’s… actually kind of profound.”
Dean smirks. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve got layers, sweetheart.”
You hate that your cheeks warm a little at that.
By the time you both finish for the night, the library lights are dimming and the custodian is sweeping nearby. You’re packing your things when Dean stretches, hands behind his head, shirt riding up just enough to make you lose your train of thought.
“Need a ride?” he asks casually.
You hesitate. You should say no. But then you think of his car. Tthe rumble you hear every morning in the parking lot, the way everyone stares when he pulls in—and something reckless stirs in you.
“Fine,” you say. “But no speeding.”
He smirks. “Can’t make promises I won’t keep.”
The Impala smells like leather and motor oil. There’s a crumpled candy wrapper in the cup holder, a cassette of Metallica on the seat, and the kind of quiet that feels heavy but not uncomfortable.
You watch the streetlights flicker through the windshield, painting gold stripes across his face. His hands on the wheel look sure and steady, the kind of hands that build things, fix things, protect things.
You don’t realize you’ve been staring until he glances over, grin softening.
“What?”
You shake your head. “Nothing. Just… didn’t expect you to be good at this.”
“At what?”
“Talking. Listening. Not being—”
“A delinquent?” he teases.
You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you. “Something like that.”
He laughs quietly, but it fades as he pulls up in front of your house. The porch light glows faintly, crickets buzzing in the yard.
He leans back in his seat, voice lower now. “Didn’t think a girl like you would waste her time on me.”
You glance over, taken off guard. “A girl like me?”
He looks straight ahead, jaw flexing. “One who’s got a future. A plan. Someone her parents are proud of.”
The words hang there, honest and a little sad. And for a moment, you see past the leather jacket and the smirk. You see the boy underneath.
You want to tell him he’s wrong. That maybe the things everyone assumes about you aren’t true either. But instead, you just say softly, “Maybe you shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
His eyes find yours again, that smirk tugging back, gentler this time. “Maybe I won’t.”
You linger there. In the quiet, in the way the air feels full with something… until your porch light flickers and you remember you’re still you, and he’s still him, and the world doesn’t make sense when it comes to Dean Winchester.
You reach for the handle. “See you tomorrow, Winchester.”
He nods, eyes still on you. “Count on it, cheerleader.”
The next morning, the halls are buzzing with whispers. Someone saw you getting out of his car. You pretend not to hear. You walk with your head high, ponytail bouncing, lip gloss perfect.
But when Dean walks by, he doesn’t look your way, not until he’s almost past you. Then, under his breath, just for you:
“Same time after class?”
You turn, heart tripping, and manage the smallest smile. “Don’t be late this time.”
He grins over his shoulder, and it’s enough to make your whole day tilt.
