crawling back to you | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader
Summary: It's been a few months since your break-up with Axel. Physically, you were killing it in the dojo, emotionally, however, you were dying inside. And unbeknownst to you, so was Axel. One day at practice, things boil over when someone new enters the picture, or at least tries to.
Word Count: 5.8k Warnings: Angst, ex-to-lovers, smut, minors dni, p in v, squirting (i need jesus), 18+
gif is not mine
You weren't supposed to care anymore.
That was the whole point of breaking up, wasn't it? Cut it clean, give it space to heal, let the bruises fade beneath the surface.
But months had passed and the ache still found you every time you saw him—worse now, because he didn't look hurt anymore.
Axel laughed at something someone said as he leaned back against the dojo wall, that crooked half-smile tugging at his mouth.
Like he wasn't haunted by the same silence that kept you up at night. Like he didn't hear your name in every quiet moment.
You sat on the edge of the mat, stretching half-heartedly, gaze fixed anywhere but him—until a voice, sweet and sticky, pulled your attention back.
She was new. Pretty. Confident.
And she stood too close when she spoke to him. Axel didn't move away.
You told yourself it didn't mean anything. You told yourself you didn’t care.
But the way he looked at her, it wasn't the way he used to look at you, not quite, but it was close enough to hurt.
And the worst part?
He didn't even glance your way.
You barely heard whatever the girl said next. Something about sparring, or his form, or how good he looked on the mat, whatever.
You stood up too fast, your knuckles already itching for impact, for the kind of release only a fight could offer.
"Y/N," Sensei Lawerence called out to you. "You're up."
You didn't even ask who your partner was. It didn't matter.
The second the match started, you hit harder than usual.
Sharper. Cleaner. Every strike was precise, fueled by something no one could name, but everyone noticed.
Your opponent barely had time to register a block before your foot connected with their side.
"Damn," someone muttered under their breath from the edge of the mat.
You didn't smile. You didn't say a word. You just reset your stance, ready for more.
Axel watched from across the room, arms folded but tension clear in his shoulders. He'd always known you were good, but this?
This was something else. You fought like you didn't feel anything. Like you had nothing to lose.
And maybe that's what got to him the most.
Because while you moved on the mat like you'd never needed him, he couldn't stop thinking about what it used to feel like, having you in his corner, stealing little glances between rounds, smiling only for him.
Now, you didn't even look his way.
And he didn't know if he wanted you to, because if you did, he might not survive the look in your eyes.
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A few days later, you're called forward to spar with the new girl. Harper.
You couldn't help but feel your blood boil, the knot in your stomach twisting as she glanced at Axel, then at you.
You didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. Just stepped onto the mat like it was any other fight.
Except it wasn’t.
Harper smirked at you, hair pulled back in a high ponytail, lashes batting like she didn't just spend the last ten minutes acting like Axel's personal cheerleader.
"Go easy on me?" she teased.
You didn't answer. The room quieted, your friends Sam and Tory wincing in the corner because they knew what was about to happen.
Sensei gave the nod.
The second Harper moved, you were already there. Fast. Brutal.
Controlled only by the discipline that had been drilled into you for years—but barely.
A sharp strike to her ribs. A pivot and elbow to her shoulder.
A low sweep that had her stumbling, and just before she could regain her footing, your foot caught her square across the jaw.
She dropped like a stone, and gasps erupted around the dojo.
Even Sensei Lawrence raised his brows as he crouched beside Harper, checking her pulse and pupils.
"Y/L/N, what the hell are you made of?" he muttered, not unkindly. There was almost a smirk in his voice. "Textbook takedown."
You stood motionless, chest heaving, heart pounding, not from the fight, but from what it had meant.
From who had been watching.
You turned your head, just slightly, and caught Axel’s stare.
His jaw was tight. His eyes unreadable.
When class is dismissed, you avoid Axel's gaze as you pass him before entering the dojo's locker room.
But of course, he followed you.
You were halfway down the hallway, halfway to the locker rooms, when his voice called out, quiet, level, but unrelenting.
"Y/N."
You stopped in your tracks, a lump catching in your throat at his tone of voice.
Didn't face him, just waited.
His footsteps slowed behind you, then stopped a few feet away. "You want to tell me what that was?"
You gave a short, humorless breath. "A fight."
"You knocked her out."
"She didn’t block."
"You've fought harder guys than her," He hesitates. "You don't usually go for the head like that."
You finally turned, eyes cold but sad, arms folded like a shield. "Why do you care?"
Axel didn't flinch, but his voice dropped. "Because you looked like you wanted to hurt her."
Your lip curled slightly, defensive now, wounded and bitter.
"And what?" You sneered. "You're mad I knocked out your new little fan club?"
His expression shifted—surprise, pain, something else underneath it—but he didn't rise to the bait.
He just looked at you. Quiet. Steady.
"Y/N, are you okay?"
The question shouldn’t have hit as hard as it did. But it did.
And for a moment, your throat closed up.
"I'm fine," you said, voice brittle, turning again before he could see the shine in your eyes. "I'm always fine."
And then you walked. Because if you didn't leave right then, you might've told him the truth.
That you weren't fine. That you still dreamed about him.
That seeing him smile at someone else felt like bleeding out slowly, and no one even noticed.
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Harper sat on the bench in the locker room, head tilted with an ice pack pressed to her cheek, the faintest shimmer in her eyes.
Her lips were pulled into a pout, and when Axel stepped in, she perked up like she hadn't just been laid out minutes ago.
"Hey," she said softly, like she hadn't just taken a cheap shot.
Axel crossed the room, still in his gi, his expression unreadable. "You okay?"
She gave a small, pathetic shrug. "Physically? Sure. But that was uncalled for. I don't know what I ever did to her."
Axel looked down at the floor, brow furrowed.
"She just went crazy on me," Harper added, her voice lighter now, almost coaxing. "Maybe she's jealous or something, I don’t know. I was just talking to you, and next thing I know, she kicks me in the face."
He stayed quiet.
Harper shifted closer on the bench, her knees brushing his.
"I mean, you and I—we've been getting closer lately, right?"
Axel's eyes flicked up to hers, cautious.
"She's your ex," Harper whispered, "but maybe it's time you finally let that go." Her hand reached out, fingers grazing his arm, then his jaw. "You deserve someone who's not... broken."
And then she leaned in. Her lips barely grazed his when his hand came up between them, stopping her mid-move.
"I can't," Axel muttered, pulling back. "Don't."
Harper blinked. "What?"
"I'm still in love with her. It's always been her."
The words came out without hesitation—sharp, grounded, final. Like he hadn't even realized until now how true they were.
Harper recoiled, her expression twisting. "Seriously? After what she just pulled? You're still hung up on that?"
Axel's jaw clenched. "Yeah. I am."
"She's crazy, Axel."
He turned toward the door.
"She's dramatic, unstable, jealous—"
"Don't talk about her like that," he said sharply, stopping in his tracks.
He didn't raise his voice, but the shift in tone was enough to suck the air out of the room. "You don't know anything about her."
"I know she made you miserable," Harper stood, scoffing.
"No," he said, turning to face her, eyes cold now. "Being away from her made me miserable."
Harper was quiet.
Axel exhaled, shaking his head once like he couldn't believe this was even happening.
"Next time you try to use her name to make yourself feel better, don't."
And then he walked out, leaving Harper speechless and alone. Because there was only one girl he was still in love with.
And she had just knocked the breath out of him in more ways than one.
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The party was already packed by the time you walked in, trailing behind Sam and Tory, who disappeared into the crowd within seconds.
You hadn't planned to come. But after the week you’d had, silence wasn't your friend. Distraction was.
You were nursing a drink by the kitchen island, half-listening to someone's story about a prank at school, when a guy you vaguely recognized stepped up beside you.
He was cute—clean-cut, confident, a football player maybe. He smiled easy.
"You're Y/N, right?" he asked, leaning closer to be heard over the music. "I saw your win at The All-Valley. That takedown? Brutal."
You gave him a tight smile. "Thanks."
He didn’t stop there.
"You’re pretty badass on the mat, most girls don’t hit like that," he gives you a small smirk.
You didn't say anything, but you didn't walk away either. You let him flirt. Let him hover close. Let his hand brush yours as he pointed at your cup.
And across the room, Axel saw everything.
He'd only just walked in, white tee hugging his slim form, his golden brown locks slightly messy from running his fingers through it.
He hadn't even made it past the threshold when his eyes landed on you. And him.
Some guy—smiling too much, standing too close, like he had a right to. Axel's jaw tightened.
You were laughing. Not the real kind, the one he knew. This one was hollow. Forced.
The way you used to laugh at his dumb jokes when you were trying not to admit you were already falling for him.
He hadn't seen you smile like that in months. And it killed him that it wasn't his anymore.
He made his way toward you slowly, not even aware he was doing it at first. Just pulled by something magnetic, territorial, familiar.
By the time you glanced up and saw him standing just a few feet away, you froze.
Your breath caught. So did his.
The guy next to you didn’t notice at first. He was still talking. Still leaning in like Axel's presence didn’t change the temperature of the room.
But it did. You held Axel's gaze, unmoving.
And just for a second, the ache returned—the one that settled in your chest every time you looked at him too long.
He looked at you like he was drowning. And you looked away first.
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Laughter, bass, the occasional pop of a beer tab—it all blurred together, meaningless and distant as Axel wandered the upstairs hallway.
He hadn't even realized how tightly his fists were clenched until his knuckles ached.
He didn't belong here tonight. Not with that guy all over you. Not with that laugh—that fake laugh—still echoing in his head.
He just needed a second. Somewhere quiet. Somewhere away from the crowd.
He pushed open a random door and stepped inside.
And stopped cold.
The bathroom light was on, illuminating the space clearly.
You were there, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, knees drawn up, your face buried in your hands.
Crying.
Silently, like you'd done this a thousand times. Like you knew how to break without anyone noticing.
His chest cracked open.
"Y/N?" Your head snapped up.
Your breath caught as your eyes met his in the dim light, tearstained and wide, and for a split second—just one—you looked like you wanted to run.
Or fall into him.
Neither of you moved.
Axel stepped inside quietly, closing the door behind him like he was sealing the world out. The muffled beat of the party disappeared.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, watching you wipe at your cheeks like it didn't matter.
Like you hadn't just broken his heart without saying a word.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
You gave a shaky laugh. "That's the second time you've asked me that this week."
He leaned back against the counter. "And it's still the second time you’ve lied."
You looked away, eyes brimming again.
"Don't," you whispered, voice cracking. "Don't be nice to me. I can't take it right now."
Axel was quiet for a long moment.
"I saw you downstairs," he breaks the silence after a few seconds. You stiffened.
"I hated it."
You looked at him, something fragile flickering in your expression.
"I hate seeing you laugh when it's not real," he added, voice lower now. "Hate that you look like you're fine when I know you're not. And I hate—" he broke off, jaw tight, "—I hate that I let you walk away without fighting for you."
The silence between you pulsed like a bruise.
"I'm not fine," you admitted, voice barely audible.
He closed his eyes for a second, like those three words punched the air from his lungs.
"Me either," he whispered.
The silence in the bathroom stretched, heavy but soft. Axel stood across from you, unmoving, like one wrong word might shatter whatever fragile thing was holding this moment together.
Then he spoke, quiet and sure.
"I still love you."
You look up at him through your lashes.
"I tried not to," he said, voice rough now, like it scraped coming out. "Tried to stay mad. Tried to forget. But I can't. Every time I close my eyes, it's you. Every time I walk into the dojo, I hope you'll look at me. Just once."
This entire time, you thought you were the only one between you two, praying for any kind of interaction.
Your lip trembled.
Axel turned like he was going to leave—slow, reluctant, but sure. Like he was walking away from the cliff’s edge before either of you fell again.
But just as his hand brushed the doorknob, yours reached out and caught his. He froze.
"Don't go," you whispered. "I shouldn't have walked away either."
He turned, slowly, eyes meeting yours like he didn't believe it at first.
But you were already standing, clutching his hand like it was the only thing keeping you upright.
"I love you too," you said, voice cracking on the words. "I never stopped."
And that was it. That was all it took.
Axel crossed the space between you in two strides and kissed you like he was breathing again for the first time in months—desperate, aching, slow at first, then deeper, like every broken piece of him was finding its match in you.
You kissed him back just as hard, fingers curled in his t-shirt, tears still fresh on your cheeks but forgotten.
His hands find your waist, grip tightening as the kiss deepens into something hungrier, something that tastes like months of longing finally breaking loose.
You arch against him, fingers threading through his golden brown hair, tugging just enough to make him groan against your mouth.
In one fluid motion, Axel lifts you—his strong hands wrapping under your thighs, your legs instinctively circling his waist—and sets you down on the cool marble of the bathroom sink.
The sudden contrast of temperatures makes you gasp against his lips, your back pressing against the mirror.
"I missed you," he breathes against your neck, voice rough with want. His lips trace a burning path from your jaw to your collarbone. "Every day. Every fucking day."
You can feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest, matching yours. His fingers slide up your sides, tentative at first.
"I missed you too," you whisper, voice trembling with raw honesty. "Your voice, your touch—everything." The confession feels like relief, like exhaling after holding your breath underwater for too long.
His blue-green eyes darken, pupils dilating as his fingers trace your jawline with reverence.
When his lips return to yours, you melt against him, surrendering to the sensation you've craved for months.
"The way you look at me," you murmur between kisses, your hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart beneath your palm. "I missed that most."
Axel's hands slide beneath your shirt, calloused fingertips tracing patterns against your skin like he's memorizing you all over again.
His mouth travels lower, pressing hot kisses along your throat, the hollow of your collarbone.
"I missed your lips," he whispers against your mouth, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through your body. "The way they feel, the way they taste."
His confession sends a shiver down your spine as his mouth returns to yours, hungrier now, more desperate.
One hand slides up your ribcage, his thumb grazing the underside of your breast through the thin fabric of your shirt.
You gasp into his mouth, the sound small but unmistakable.
"That," he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you with darkened eyes. "That sound you make when I touch you. I've dreamed about it."
His lips find your neck, hot and insistent, sucking gently at first, then harder at the sensitive spot just below your ear.
The sensation pulls a soft moan from your throat that you couldn't have contained if you tried.
Your head falls back, giving him better access as his hands slide under your thighs, gripping tighter, pulling you closer until there's no space left between your bodies.
Your fingers find the hem of his shirt, tugging upward with urgent need.
He breaks the kiss just long enough for you to pull it over his head, revealing the familiar landscape of his chest—lean muscle under pale skin.
"I need you, Axel," you whisper against his mouth, voice raw with desire. "Please."
His hands slide beneath your shirt in response, warm palms pressing against your bare skin.
"Can I?" he asks, voice rough with restraint.
You nod, lifting your arms as he peels the fabric upward, his knuckles deliberately grazing your skin.
Your shirt joins his on the bathroom floor, and his eyes darken as they take in the sight of you.
"God," he breathes, his voice thick with reverence. "You're so beautiful. Even more than I remembered."
His fingertips trace the curve of your collarbone, trailing down to the swell of your breasts.
The touch is featherlight, almost worshipful, as his eyes hold yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch.
"I used to think about this," he murmurs, leaning forward to press his lips to the center of your chest. "How perfect you are. How your skin feels against mine."
His mouth traces a path along the edge of your bra, his warm breath making goosebumps rise on your skin.
When his lips close over the sensitive skin just above the fabric, you can't help the small, needy sound that escapes you.
Your back arches reflexively, pressing your chest more firmly against his mouth.
With a practiced motion, his fingers find the clasp of your bra, hesitating there as he looks up at you through thick lashes, seeking permission in your eyes.
You nod, breathless with anticipation.The fabric falls away, and Axel's gaze turns reverent, hungry.
When his mouth closes over your nipple, warm and wet, a sound between a gasp and a whimper breaks from your throat.
Your fingers tangle in his golden-brown hair, tugging slightly as his tongue circles the sensitive peak.
The sensation sends lightning down your spine, pooling low in your belly.
"I need you," you whisper against his mouth, the words half-plea, half-command. Your fingers slip down his torso, tracing the familiar ridges of muscle before dipping to the waistband of his jeans. "Now."
Axel's lips curve into a knowing smirk against your skin, his breath hot as he ducks his head to your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive spot below your ear.
His voice drops to a husky whisper that vibrates through your entire body.
"Tell me what you want," he murmurs, his accent thickening with desire as he nips at your pulse point. "You want me, baby? Want me to fuck you right here?"
The crude words in his mouth sound like poetry, making your thighs clench around his waist.
Heat floods your core at the possessive edge in his voice, the raw need that mirrors your own.
"Yes," you breathe, the single word catching in your throat as his hand slides between your bodies, fingers working at the button of your jeans. "God, yes."
His mouth reclaims yours, swallowing your gasp as his hand slides past the waistband of your jeans, fingers ghosting over the thin fabric of your underwear.
The sudden pressure makes you whimper against his lips, your hips instinctively rolling forward to meet his touch.
"You're so wet," he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick with wonder and need.
His fingertips trace lazy, torturous circles through the damp fabric, finding that perfect spot that makes your breath hitch. "Is this all for me?"
You can barely form words as pleasure ripples through you. Instead of answering, you reach behind him, sliding your hand into his back pocket where you know he keeps his wallet.
Your fingers close around the worn leather, extracting it with trembling hands.
Axel watches you with hooded eyes, his movements never ceasing as you fumble with that square foiled packet that he always kept at arms length whenever with you.
"Always for you," you whisper against his lips, never breaking eye contact as your fingers work at his jeans, popping the button open with practiced ease. "Only you."
His breath catches as you slowly drag the zipper down, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet bathroom.
The condom packet glints in your palm, trembling slightly with anticipation.
Axel's eyes darken as he takes it from you, his teeth tearing the foil with a primal urgency that makes your core throb with need.
The thin barrier between you is quickly dealt with as he rolls it on, his movements efficient but unhurried.
His hands return to your hips, thumbs pressing into the soft skin there as he positions himself.
His eyes lock with yours, intense and searching. In them, you see everything—months of longing, heartache, and desire crashing together like waves.
"Say it," you breathe against his lips, fingers digging into his shoulders. "Say you're mine again."
You need to hear it—need the words to make this real, to banish the ghost of Harper and every smile he might have given someone else.
Your voice trembles with vulnerability as you whisper, "You're mine, right?"
"Yes," he answers without a moment's hesitation, his voice rough with emotion. "Always yours. Only yours."
And then he pushes into you, slow and deliberate, filling you completely.
The sensation steals your breath, your head falling back as your body remembers his—how perfectly you fit together, how right this feels.
"Fuck," he groans against your neck, his accent thick.
The mirror behind you is cool against your heated skin as Axel presses deeper, your body arching to take all of him.
Your reflection catches in the corner of your eye—flushed cheeks, parted lips, his broad shoulders framing your smaller form—but you can't look away from his face.
From the raw intensity in his eyes as he watches where your bodies join.
"God, you feel—" he groans, voice breaking as his hips snap forward, the new angle making you cry out softly. "Perfect. So fucking perfect."
Your legs tighten around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as he builds a rhythm that's both familiar and desperately new.
Each thrust sends ripples of pleasure coursing through you, building like waves threatening to break.
The bathroom counter digs into your thighs, but the slight discomfort only heightens everything else—the pressure of his body against yours, the heat of his breath on your neck, the delicious friction where you're joined.
He pulls you flush against him, one arm wrapping possessively around your waist while the other tangles in your hair.
You cling to him, arms looping around his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the hard muscle there as his mouth finds the sensitive curve where your neck meets your shoulder.
"I've missed this," he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot as his lips trail a blazing path up your throat. "Missed how you feel."
Your head falls back, giving him better access as his teeth graze your pulse point, followed by the soothing warmth of his tongue.
The dual sensation sends electricity racing down your spine, pooling low in your belly.
"Axel," you breathe, his name a prayer on your lips.
His grip tightens in response, possessive and desperate.
His pace quickens, each thrust deeper than the last, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids.
Your legs instinctively constrict around him, thighs quivering against his sides as the first waves of your climax begin to build.
The tremors start subtle, then grow more pronounced, your muscles contracting involuntarily.
"I can feel you," Axel whispers against your ear, his voice strained with his own restraint. "You're close, aren't you?"
You can only nod, words failing as pleasure coils tighter in your core.
Your ankles lock behind his back, pulling him impossibly deeper as your body betrays how close you are—the trembling in your thighs growing more intense against his heated skin.
His rhythm falters for just a moment as he registers the telltale quivering of your body.
"I—I'm gonna cum," you gasp against his ear, your voice breaking with urgency, your nails digging into his shoulders.
The tension in your core winds impossibly tight, trembling on the edge of release.
"Me too," Axel groans, his voice ragged and strained. His forehead presses against yours, eyes locked on yours with devastating intensity. "Together. Come with me."
Your bodies shudder in perfect synchronicity as the wave finally crashes.
Your vision blurs at the edges as pleasure pulses through every nerve ending, your inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic waves.
Axel's deep moan vibrates against your chest as he spills into the condom, his powerful body trembling against yours.
You cling to each other like survivors of a shipwreck, breathing ragged and uneven, hearts thundering.
His mouth captures yours as another wave of pleasure crashes through you, silencing your cries with his lips.
His tongue slides against yours, tasting your gasps as his hips continue their relentless rhythm, drawing out every tremor, every aftershock.
Your body convulses around him, each pulse more intense than the last as he refuses to let you come down, pushing you higher instead.
"That's it," he whispers against your lips between kisses, his voice husky with satisfaction. "Give me everything."
You whimper into his mouth as his hand slips between your bodies, his thumb finding that sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with just enough pressure to send you spiraling again.
Your thighs quake around his waist, muscles contracting beyond your control as he coaxes yet another climax from your oversensitive body.
"Axel—I can't—" you try to protest, but the words dissolve into a broken moan as his thumb continues its relentless circles.
Pleasure borders on pain, every nerve ending raw and exposed.
Your body arches involuntarily, spine curving like a bow as sensation crashes through you in merciless waves.
"You can," he murmurs against your throat, voice velvet-rough with command. "One more. For me."
His fingers work magic between your thighs, the pressure perfectly calibrated—not too soft, not too hard—just the exquisite torture of knowing exactly how your body responds.
Your vision blurs, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes as overwhelming pleasure builds again, impossibly soon after the last.
"It's too much," you gasp, the words barely coherent as your hips buck against his hand.
But even as you say it, your body betrays you, already climbing toward that peak again.
Axel's eyes darken as he watches your face, the pleasure and pain mingling in your expression.
His thumb continues its relentless circles as he shifts inside you, angling his hips to hit that secret spot deep within.
"Remember that night in my room?" he whispers against your ear, his voice a seductive rumble. "When I made you come so hard you soaked the sheets?"
The memory flashes vivid and hot—your body arching off his bed, that unprecedented release flooding through you, the look of awe on his face as you came apart in a way you never had before.
"I want to see you like that again," he continues, his fingers increasing their pace. "Want to feel you let go completely."
His other hand slides to the small of your back, tilting your hips at a sharper angle.
"Oh god—Axel—" Your words dissolve into a strangled cry as something inside you breaks open.
The pressure builds to an unbearable crescendo, your thighs trembling violently around his waist.
Tears spill from your eyes as a violent wave of pleasure crashes through you, different from anything before—more intense, more overwhelming.
Your body convulses as liquid warmth gushes from you, soaking both of your thighs and the counter beneath you.
Axel holds you through it, his expression caught between awe and reverence.
"That's it," he whispers against your temple, pressing kisses to your tear-streaked face. "Let go for me. Just like that."
You collapse against him, burying your face against his shoulder, muffling your broken sobs as your body continues to shudder through the most intense release of your life.
With exquisite care, Axel eases out of you, his movements deliberately gentle.
His fingertips trace feather-light patterns against your oversensitive skin as he withdraws, a small sound of concern escaping his lips when you wince.
"Did I hurt you?" he whispers, brow furrowed as he cradles your face between his palms.
You shake your head, still trembling from the aftershocks. "No. Just... intense."
His thumb brushes away a tear that clings to your lashes. The tenderness in his touch makes your chest ache more than any physical sensation could.
This is the Axel you remember—the one who, beneath all that quiet confidence and stubborn pride, treats you like something precious.
"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing his lips to your forehead.
His arms encircle you, strong and steady as the tremors subside.
He reaches for a hand towel from the rack beside the sink, dampening it with warm water before tenderly cleaning between your thighs.
The cloth is soft against your sensitive skin as he works with careful precision, his touch clinical yet intimate.
"Lift," he whispers, helping you raise your hips as he slides your underwear back up your legs.
His fingers hook into your jeans next, easing them over your still-trembling thighs.
You watch his face as he works—the concentration in his brow, the gentle press of his lips—and something inside you unravels further.
He secures the button at your waist, then rises to meet your gaze.
His hands cup your face as if you're made of glass, thumbs brushing away the last traces of tears from your cheeks.
He presses his lips to your forehead, your temple, the corner of your mouth, his tenderness making your heart constrict.
He reaches for his discarded clothes, stepping back just enough to give himself room.
Your body instantly misses his warmth.
You remain sat on the cool marble of the sink, legs still slightly wobbly, watching as he pulls his shirt over his head, the fabric sliding down to cover the lean muscles of his abdomen.
Before he can step further away, you reach out, fingers catching the hem of his shirt.
You pull him back between your legs and wrap your arms around his middle, burying your face against his chest.
You breathe him in—that familiar scent of him.
His arms tighten around you, one hand stroking your hair with gentle reverence.
You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath, and when you glance up, his eyes are soft with understanding.
The corner of his mouth lifts in that crooked half-smile that always made your heart skip.
"Let's get out of here," he murmurs, thumb brushing your cheek. "This party's too loud anyway."
You look up at him, your heart still racing from everything that just happened between you.
The vulnerability in his eyes makes your chest ache with a sweetness you'd almost forgotten.
"I have those spicy Croatian chips you like at my place," you whisper, fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. "The ones your mom sends in those care packages. Been saving them."
His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his features before melting into something softer. "You kept them? Even after..."
You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. "I couldn't bring myself to throw them out. Or eat them. Felt wrong somehow."
His face softens, eyes crinkling at the corners as something vulnerable passes across his features.
The tension in his shoulders releases, replaced by a quiet certainty that makes your heart stutter.
"You kept my favorite chips," he whispers, thumb tracing the curve of your lower lip. His voice drops lower, accent thickening with emotion. "No one's ever understood me like you do."
Axel leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with yours in the small space between you.
His eyes search yours, blue-green depths swimming with unspoken questions.
"Be mine again," he murmurs, not quite a question, not quite a command—somewhere in between, raw with longing. "For real this time. No walking away, no giving up when it gets hard."
Your fingers trace the sharp line of his jaw, memorizing the contours of his face as if seeing him for the first time.
His stubble tickles your palm as you cup his cheek, drawing him closer until your breath mingles with his.
"Yes," you whisper against his mouth, sealing the promise with a kiss that starts gentle but deepens as his arms tighten around you.
Your lips part beneath his, tongues meeting in a slow dance that speaks of homecoming rather than desire.
This kiss is different from the desperate ones you shared minutes ago—this one tastes like forever.
When you finally pull away, his eyes remain closed for a heartbeat longer, like he's savoring the moment, afraid it might dissolve if he looks too quickly.
"No more walking away," you murmur, your voice soft but certain.
The words feel like a vow between you, weightier than any promise you've made before.
Axel's eyes lock with yours, searching, finding nothing but truth. His thumb traces the curve of your cheek, featherlight, reverent.
"Even when it gets hard?" he asks, vulnerability threading through his voice.
"Especially then," you whisper, covering his hand with yours.
You leaned in, brushing your nose against his, and he kissed you again—slow, sure, full of promise.
It didn’t matter what came next.
You had each other again.
And that was everything.
─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─
Masterlist
Taglist: @ggrgcribg
(A/N: sorry about that, had to get that one out of my system. i saw one of those posts that said "give me angst, fluff, and smut all in one" and i said: here you go. hope this was okay!! like, comment, reblog, appreciate y'all!! 🤍)
