♥ summary: natalie dumped you years ago, and as much as you like to pretend that it doesn't hurt anymore, that's not the truth. it only gets worse when she shows up to tai and van's wedding with her new boyfriend.
You may kiss the bride.
The words echoed in your ears like a dream, distant, mere background noise to the view you'd had your eyes set on the whole afternoon.
Nat.
Refreshed, beautiful, as radiant as she'd ever been — standing out among the dozens of people in the venue so ethereally that everything seemed to slow when she moved. You swallowed thickly, hand twitching at your side with the urge to wipe away the tear that threatened to spill, because you saw it. The proud smile on her lips. The glint in her eyes that appeared every single time she was about to cry. The way she looked down for a moment, then back up, breath catching just enough for a trained eye to notice.
Nat was otherworldly, truly. It always made you weak, and today wasn't different — in fact it might've been stronger, the orange glow of the sun shining on her face like it was so jealous of her magnetism it had to try and compete. But it didn't win. It couldn't win, not against Nat, it never even stood a chance.
The crowd erupted in cheers, but your eyes stayed on the same place. On Nat's face, her smile, the way she glowed like a light and swept you off your feet for the thousandth time today with nothing but her beauty.
“Ugh, they're so great together,” Lottie nudged you lightly with her elbow, pulling you off your trance, making every cheer seem louder now that you'd torn your eyes away from where they'd been. “I'm so happy for them.”
You cleared your throat, finally remembering you were supposed to smile instead of just standing there staring daggers at your ex.
“Right. Yeah, they are.”
You watched Van lean Tai over and kiss her lips like a movie scene, genuinely happy for your friends, but you were already long past the point of pretending you could make that your main focus for the day. You'd tried. You'd been trying since you woke up this morning, knowing you'd probably see her at the wedding — I'm in a good place, I have a good life, it’s been a long time and I'm over her —, and for a moment you really thought you had it. You’d see Nat and you'd say your polite hellos and everything would be fine. You’d been repeating it to yourself all morning, it's been a long time. It didn't have to be awkward, and it didn't have to hurt.
Until she walked in with Travis fucking Martinez on her arm and you felt like you’d been punched in the stomach.
Your plan pretty much went down the drain after that.
Because sure, you’d heard (from fucking Jackie, of all people) that she'd moved to a different city after college — and you remembered Coach Martinez at the five-year reunion, drunk on cheap sparkling wine, babbling on about his son fucking off to the same place. And yeah, you'd wondered. Big city, two people from Nowheresville, Fucktown, and they'd always gotten along relatively well back in high school. You'd even teased it, long before everything went to shit and you were still allowed to joke around Nat — you know Travis only comes to practice with his dad so he can watch you play, right? She'd laugh. She'd always laugh. You're imagining things, she'd say with a squeeze to your hand and a kiss to your cheek, so calm, so Natalie — so you dropped it, because why wouldn't you?
Maybe you should have pushed harder. Or maybe you’d brought this on yourself, planting ideas in her head that matured over time until they finally flowered when their new lives crashed together.
Whatever it'd been, the whole spectacle was like a horror movie you watched through a gap between your fingers. Natalie bit her lip and leaned over to say something in Travis’ ear as Van and Tai turned toward the guests with big smiles, and you wondered if he even realized she was trying not to cry. His hand did something weird, probably rubbing her thigh over her dress, but you couldn't bring yourself to look. He laughed, light and quick, but he didn't put an arm around her, and he didn't say anything back — clueless fucking idiot. You wanted to chuckle, to whisper something mean-spirited to Lottie that would definitely crack the whole I don't give a shit facade you'd been trying to maintain all day, but you decided against it. What good would it do? Travis was the one sitting next to her, while you stared at them from across a crowded venue and dreamt of what could've been. You were already the butt of the joke, you didn't need to give them more fuel.
Tai and Van walked up the aisle hand in hand, glowing as they smiled at the guests and headed inside to freshen up for the reception, and everyone started getting up once they were gone. Shauna, who'd been just a few seats down, smiled at you, hand finding your arm as she pulled you close, leaning over till her lips were mere inches from your ear.
“Fix your face,” she whispered, friendly but firm. “You're gonna burn a hole through his skull if you keep staring like that.”
You forced a smile, trying to at least look composed, letting your hand find her lower back like you were simply greeting an old friend.
“Good,” you muttered under your breath, “I hope it works.”
Shauna chuckled, hugging you back, shaking her head slightly.
“For what it’s worth, I can't believe she brought fucking Flex. I'd be pissed too if I were you.”
You let out a half-laugh at the nickname, happy to at least have someone on your side, already pulling her toward the reception area because you needed a drink and you needed it now — and if Shauna's glares at her husband told you anything at all, she was going to be your buddy for the night.
It only got worse from then on.
Apparently Tai and Van had decided it was a good idea to seat all of the old gang together, including plus ones, including the emo kid who used to lurk around the sidelines staring at your girlfriend. You tried to remain neutral, sat between Lottie and Shauna, silently wishing Van wasn't one of the brides so she could ease the situation with her light sense of humor. Nat and Travis approached the table a few minutes after you did — and while they were smiling obnoxiously and rubbing their happy couple status in your face, at least she had the decency to drop his hand before getting too close, which you appreciated. It also helped that you already had a glass of champagne in hand, half empty, eyes scanning the place for the waiter with the next one.
“Oh my God, you guys!” Misty was the one to do the honors, standing up like she'd ever exchanged more than two words with Travis back in high school — which you were pretty sure wasn't the case. “You two look amazing! Come on, come sit with us!”
Try-hard, you thought, but you obviously wouldn't say it. She gestured at the last two empty seats — directly across from you, of fucking course — and that's where they settled, smiling, Nat's eyes running through everybody but you, skimming past your face like you were part of the wallpaper.
“Hey, guys,” she said, voice so annoyingly calm you wanted to grab her face and punch it. Or kiss it. Or maybe alternate between the two until you figured out which would feel the best. “I missed you, it's been a while.”
She didn't say anything about Travis, like it was natural for him to just be there, and that somehow felt worse than a formal introduction as a boyfriend or whatever she considered him to be.
The mood settled quickly at the table, with everyone saying their quick hellos and how have you beens and you look so goods while you stayed silent, smiling just enough not to be completely rude, clinging to that glass of champagne like a baby to a bottle. Your knee bobbed incessantly as your eyes periodically fell on Travis’ elbow, his forearm disappearing under the table, making you wonder where his hand was. On Nat's thigh? On her knee? Around her wrist? You didn't want to know. God, this was pathetic, you were pathetic. She'd broken up with you when you were twenty years old and here you sat, years later, still jealous of anybody that got too close.
Well, in your defense, she didn't have to bring him along.
“What about you, Y/N?” Laura Lee asked, leaning over the table, kind eyes set on your face.
You blinked, pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of your name, feeling Shauna's light kick on your ankle under the table.
“Mm?” You asked absently, lifting your head in record time.
“What have you been up to lately?” Laura Lee doubled down, that patient smile still on her lips. “It’s like we only ever see you on occasions like this.”
You cleared your throat with a nod, forcing a smile, deeming it safe to keep your gaze focused on Laura Lee and Laura Lee only.
“Oh, uh, you know. Work. Friends. Got a pretty good deal on an apartment last year, so there's that…” You shrugged, picking up your second (or was it your third?) glass of champagne like it could singlehandedly keep you from going crazy. “Pretty steady.”
“Ooh, a home owner!” Laura Lee smiled radiantly, somehow looking genuinely excited about your boring answer, bless her heart. “That's a miracle these days. Congratulations!”
Some of the girls raised their glasses in agreement, discreet and lighthearted, and you watched as Nat did the same a millisecond too late. You didn't react. Instead, you just smiled awkwardly until someone else spoke, finally changing the subject, letting some other poor bastard be sucked into the spotlight next.
The evening went on, everyone getting more and more buzzed by the minute, champagne flowing like Tai and Van had an unlimited alcohol budget in store for the party. Jackie — of course it was fucking Jackie — leaned forward, arms crossed over the table, smiling crookedly as she looked in Natalie and Travis’ direction.
“Okay, I just have to ask,” she said, leaning closer, clumsily bumping her shoulder against Mari's in the process. “What's the story there?”
You could feel the whole table deliberately avoid looking your way, and Shauna's sigh was loud enough for only you and Jeff to hear. Jackie had gone there. She'd really gone there, and you didn't know whether to scream at her or to get the fuck out of the venue before you had to hear Natalie's answer.
But you did neither. You just sat there, picking at the tablecloth, dead silent as you waited.
Nat's smile faded a little, and anybody could've noticed the question had made her uncomfortable — anybody except her fucking boyfriend, apparently, who looked at her face and waited for her to say something like a dog waiting to be petted. She looked back at him, lips curving in that small way that didn't reach her eyes, but of course he didn't see it. There was a lot he didn't see, you figured. She nudged him gently, a silent plea for him to take this one that you would've caught before she even had to move, but it wasn't your place anymore.
Travis, slow and clueless and perpetually doing justice to his old brainless stoner reputation, seemed to finally catch on (surprisingly so), looking back at Jackie with a proud grin on his obnoxious face.
“We, uh… ran into each other at the grocery store, actually,” his arm did something weird again, and you couldn't help but look this time, boiling as you realized he'd likely just squeezed her knee right in front of your face. “I didn't even know Nat was living in the same city as me. And then I bumped into this cool chick in line and… well, there she was.”
“Sounds like a Hallmark meetcute,” Jackie offered with a smile that was most definitely forced, if you had to guess.
“Yeah. I used to be super into her back in high school, so I figured I'd just… man up and ask her out already.”
You were thankful for the glass of champagne already on your lips when he said that, otherwise nothing could have stifled the dismissive scoff you let out. Super into her back in high school — yeah, you'd called that. And the whole man up bit? With you right there, sitting across from them like everything you'd been through with Natalie had never even fucking happened? Just distasteful. Plainly tone deaf, but if Nat tolerated it you wouldn't be the one to call him out.
You waited a few minutes before excusing yourself to the bathroom, not wanting to be too obvious about how their cute little story kept echoing in your head even after the subject shifted.
On your way out, like the world's longest running cosmic joke, there she was. At the threshold, smoothing out her dress, avoiding bumping into you just by an inch or two. Natalie. Even prettier from up close, dark makeup highlighting the blue in her eyes like she hadn't thought to have at least some mercy on you before she left her hotel. Standing so close you could smell her perfume, still amber and vanilla, still so incredibly Natalie the thought of Travis being the one to feel it now made you want to die.
“Oh— sorry,” she muttered, lips pressed into a thin line once she realized it was you she'd run into, stopping awkwardly in place as she kept holding onto the black fabric with pale fingers. “Mari spilled champagne on my dress, I just… wanted to see if I can get some of it off.”
You cleared your throat, deliberately avoiding her eyes, knowing you couldn't be trusted to be alone with her for long without the words fuck you or I miss you coming out of your mouth.
“Uh, good luck with that. I hear hot water helps.”
“Right,” she nodded, and you were already on your way out when you heard her voice again. “Hey, wait.”
As much as you'd have liked to pretend you didn't listen and go on about your night, you were never strong enough when it came to Nat.
“Yeah?”
“I just…” She hesitated, like she hadn't really thought of what she'd say past this point. “Uh, congrats. About the apartment thing.”
You blinked, surprised that that's what she'd chosen to go with.
“Uh, thanks. You too,” you breathed, a bit too drunk to hold your tongue. “About the boyfriend thing.”
You weren't sure if the sound of Natalie's breath hitching was real or just a product of your drunken imagination, but you figured you wouldn't stay to find out. You turned on your heel before she could say anything else, mumbling a soft “I should probably…” and walking out while you still could.
You didn't go back to the table, not yet, you couldn't deal with Travis’ face or his smug grin or the sound of his voice as he bragged about his oh-so-perfect relationship with your girlfriend.
Your ex. Your ex-girlfriend. God, the champagne was really doing its job already.
It was probably good that you stayed away for a little while. You'd already made that pointed comment to Natalie in the bathroom, God knows what you might say next. So you wandered over to the dance floor, scanning the place, eyes landing on Tai and Van as they swayed together like there was nobody else in the room. You hung back for a moment, crossing your arms and simply watching, a little smirk popping on your lips despite all the shit you'd been through tonight. They deserved it. They were happy. They were really good for each other.
It made you think about all you'd lost.
Yeah, you were tired of the woe is me bullshit you’d been pulling all night, but you couldn't help but compare. You and Nat had started dating around the same time as Tai and Van, sophomore year of high school, young and wide-eyed and thinking nothing could touch you as you snuck behind the bleachers to make out and smoke cigarettes together. You'd gotten into a college just a few hours away from hers, which worked for a while, and then the problems started. You couldn't make the drive one week, and then she couldn't the other, and by your second year there were days when you’d barely talk. You’d kept waiting to come home over break and finally have some real time together, only for her to tell you she needed to find herself first thing after you showed up with flowers to her mom's trailer, tears streaming down her face, your heart shattered into a million different pieces.
Well, whoever it was that she was looking for, she'd apparently found her. And now she was with Travis Martinez — fucking Flex, for crying out loud.
“They're perfect for each other, aren't they?”
Someone pulled you from your thoughts, an unfamiliar voice, a beautiful woman in a bridesmaid's dress with a smile on her lips.
You nodded, polite, trying to let go of your own bitterness for a second.
“Yeah. They really are.”
“Can't take my eyes off of them. I love Van so much, I'm so glad she's part of the family now.”
You forced a smile.
“You're Taissa's family?”
The woman nodded, introducing herself as Tai's cousin, making light conversation about the ceremony and the music and how beautiful both brides looked. It was a nice distraction — though you knew you weren't your most charismatic self tonight, you figured small talk with a stranger beat watching Nat and Travis make eyes at each other from across the table, so you stayed there.
The waiter walked by and offered you both more champagne, and though you shouldn't, you still said yes. Tai’s cousin kept talking and smiling and generously laughing at the stuff you said, which was weird because you were painfully aware of how unfunny it all was, but you took the win. It wasn't until she touched your arm and slowly let her fingertips drag through it that you realized what she was all about, what this was all about, why she'd been pretending to laugh at every bad joke you’d been telling for the past half hour.
“You wanna dance?” She finally asked, leaning closer, still touching you.
You weren't really in the mood, but you figured it couldn't hurt. You could use the distraction and hey, maybe that'd get your head off Natalie for a little bit. Maybe that'd make you stop scanning the venue for a hint of her every five seconds, wondering if she was still thinking about what you said in the bathroom.
This could be a good thing if you let it.
“Yeah,” you nodded, smiling a bit more deliberately now, choosing to simply go with it. “I'd love to.”
You let her lead you to the dance floor, wrapping an arm around her waist and moving side to side in tune with the soft ballad, her hands circling your shoulders. You stayed there for the rest of the song, not leaving when the next one started, the smile on your lips almost confident enough for yourself to believe you actually wanted to be there.
Gradually, as the band proceeded to play a collection of slower, more romantic songs than the upbeat ones from before, couples started crowding the dance floor. Among them, out of the corner of your eye, of course — Natalie and Travis, his hand on hers as he led her, fingers grazing her hip when they finally settled in place.
You kept dancing with Tai's cousin (whose name you honestly couldn't even remember at this point), but your eyes were somewhere else. While she settled her head on your shoulder, apparently committing to the bit, you couldn't tear your gaze away from Travis. His hand, pulling Nat closer by the waist, possessive fingertips crinkling the fabric of her dress. His chest, nestling the side of her head like that's where she belonged now, with him, letting herself be led by someone who clearly didn’t know how to do it right. It's not that Travis was a bad dancer, he was okay, but he simply didn't know how to dance with her. It made you mad. He stood so tall, so smug, smiling to himself all night like Natalie was the prize for some competition he'd finally managed to win, but you saw it. The cracks, the silent pleas, the one hundred hints he didn't take. He didn't know her. Not like you once had, not like you still did after all these years if you'd been reading the signs correctly tonight.
You swallowed, now blatantly staring, but you didn't care anymore. He moved his hands, pulling her closer by the hips, a mere inch away from her ass, and it made you see red. Didn't he know Nat hated that? Didn't he know she didn't like to be claimed that way in public?
Your blood was boiling, it was all too intimate, it was all too much. God, he was the one who touched her now. He was the one she lay next to, the one who took off her dress, the one she made love to. Did he do enough to satisfy her? Did he care about how she felt, or was it just another time when he treated her like an accessory to fulfill his ego? You could throw up just thinking about it. He didn't deserve to be there, he didn't deserve to be hers.
Your eyes wandered further, finally falling on Nat’s, only to realize she was looking right back at you.
And from the look on her face — that pathetic, ridiculous, beautiful guilty expression with the parted lips and the round eyes —, she’d probably been staring for a while.
This time, you didn't back down. You didn't chicken out like you did in the bathroom — you locked eyes with her, staring right into her soul as you swayed with another woman and she stood inside the arms of her fucking boyfriend. It was petty, it was immature, but you wanted her to see what she'd done to you. You wanted her to see just how she’d wrecked you. You wanted her to see that you saw what she was missing, what someone like Travis simply couldn't provide, not in the way you could.
Nat met you right where you were, looking back at you, barely registering it when Travis’ hand pressed down on her lower back like he was handling dough. You stared at each other for the entirety of the song. You didn't even remember blinking, to be honest, too entranced, too lost in the moment to focus on anything but her face, gorgeous and guilty, looking at you like she could see exactly what was going on inside your head.
She could always read you better than anyone else.
The song came to an end eventually, some upbeat 2000s tune signaling the floor was no longer for sappy slow dances, and the moment was broken. You pulled away from Taissa's cousin, suddenly too overwhelmed to be under Nat's gaze for even a second longer, offering her an apologetic smile and a pat on the shoulder.
“I— I had fun, I just… sorry, I need to step out for a smoke.”
And you walked away before she could even answer. You didn't look at Nat, you didn't check to see if she'd stayed on the floor with Travis or gone back to the table. It was all too much too fast, and the way your head spun around because of the champagne wasn't helping.
The night air felt crisp on your face once you stepped out of the venue, but it didn't do much to cool you down. You were burning — caught between a weird mix of jealousy, rage and longing that you couldn't sort out, Nat's face under the lights tattooed on your brain in a way that only made it all hurt worse. You couldn't be trusted to go back inside, not right now, not like that. Not when you felt everything that intensely. Not when you knew you wouldn't be able to hold your tongue if you saw his hands on her again.
You took a deep breath, not even carrying the cigarette you said you'd gone out for (you hadn’t really smoked since Nat left), settling for the night breeze and the buzz from the champagne instead. It was the first time all night you'd managed to just stop, still hot from the dance floor, head pounding with a billion thoughts of Natalie running through it.
“What the hell was that?”
A voice interrupted you, raspy and cutting, the sound of the door opening and closing aggressively filling the previous silence. Natalie stood there with a heavy chest and furrowed brows, staring at you in a way that was now less guilty and more confrontational, the same she used to save for touchy opponents back in your soccer days.
“What?!” You played dumb, a dishonest attempt to buy some time or at least figure out what she was so pissed about, but you knew what you’d been doing.
Nat scoffed bitterly, taking a step closer like she was ready to fight, and you remembered how she’d get when those guys from the baseball team yelled mean spirited things to you both from their car. It’s not worth it, baby, you’d tell her, secretly loving the protective aggression — but, as it turned out, it didn’t feel good to be at the other end of the stick.
“You’re fucking kidding, right?” She chuckled, crossing her arms like she needed to balance herself, shaking her head in pure sarcasm. “You have some nerve. Rolling your eyes at everything Travis said all night. Saying that shit in the bathroom like you’re better than me. Fucking… judging me when I was with him just now, I fucking saw it.”
You matched her energy, letting out a chuckle of your own, offering her a petulant smile and a head tilt.
“I think you’re projecting.”
“Projecting?” You apparently accomplished exactly what you’d tried with that little comment, because Natalie looked like she was about to breathe fire. “You were making out with some random girl all night just to try and get to me and I’m projecting?”
Oh, bingo.
“I wasn’t trying to get to anyone. And we weren’t making out,” you smiled deliciously, savoring the temporary win. “See what I’m talking about?”
The words flowed heavily with the weight of however many glasses of champagne you'd both had, filterless, spat out after years of silence. You didn't expect her to get this mad, and you didn't expect to actually act on the lump you'd had in your throat all day, but now it was like you just couldn't hold it in anymore. If that's how Nat wanted to do this, you weren't gonna be the one to back down.
“God,” Nat ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, dropping both arms with exaggerated force, “don't do this. Don't fucking do this, it's pathetic.”
You were the one to cross your arms this time, confrontational, raising your chin like that would somehow make you seem taller.
“And what exactly am I doing?”
“Acting like I'm fucking crazy. Like I've been seeing things all night. I'm not blind, Y/N, and I'm not stupid.”
“I'm not fucking acting like anything, Natalie, God!” You huffed, rolling your eyes, throwing your head back. “Don't flatter yourself like that.”
“Right. I'm flattering myself. That's why you've been looking at me with that fucking… condescending look on your face all night. Like I'm a fucking monster for, what, finding someone else? Moving on?”
You laughed bitterly, nodding mockingly, turning your eyes away from her.
“Yeah, Nat, because I care that you’re with fucking Flex now,” you did, and the tone in which you said it was so pointed that it wasn't even hard to figure it out, but you weren't about to admit it. “Real upgrade.”
Nat scoffed dismissively, disappointed at your use of the nickname.
“Really? You're gonna go there?”
“You're the one who brought him to the wedding. Tai and Van's wedding. What, you thought no one was gonna talk about it? You thought everyone would think it was fucking normal for him to be here?”
“He's my boyfriend, Y/N,” the word came out of her lips raspily, lower now, and you would have preferred it if she'd just come out and punched you in the face. “Am I supposed to not bring him to things?”
You sighed, shaking in your heels in a way you hadn't expected to, moving two steps back like you'd taken a push. You hated it. You hated looking weak in front of her, you hated that you knew it was all over your face. You hated that word, boyfriend — God, Nat had a boyfriend, it didn't sound right, it didn't feel right.
Nat swallowed, looking away from you with her lips pursed, crossing her arms again — this time less angry, more deliberate.
“Do whatever you want, Nat,” you said weakly, the combat wearing off like that simple term had been enough to fully drain the fight from your body, and now all you wanted to do was turn around and get the fuck out of there. “Congratu-fucking-lations. You needed to find yourself, I'm glad you finally did.”
Her brows furrowed as she took a step forward, not letting you off the hook, and you could spot the slight shake in her knees too.
“Wait, is that what this is about?” She asked accusingly, like that had been the most offensive thing you'd said to her all night. “Something I said when I was fucking twenty?”
You looked down, out of fuel now, not even able to come up with an answer because yes, it was about that, and you'd set yourself up. Nat let out an exasperated huff, almost a chuckle, shaking her head in disbelief as she watched you shrink in real time.
“Whatever, Natalie,” that was the best you could do at the moment, and you were well aware of how pathetic it was.
“Oh my God, Y/N, that was years ago!” She exclaimed, frustrated. “I didn't know shit back then! And now you're using it against me after all this time because, what, you think I'm supposed to feel guilty about it forever? Would that make you feel better, if I'd shown up miserable and alone?”
“Don't say that,” you rasped back, still not looking at her, wanting to disappear. “Don't say you didn't know shit like you were just some stupid kid and you're above it all now. I know you're not.”
Nat let out a snort, raising an eyebrow.
“I'm not?”
“No, you're not,” you doubled down, figuring there was no use hiding it anymore, the champagne and the hurt making you say what you really felt for the first time tonight. “You fell out of love with me, fine, we grow up, we grow apart. But don't stand here and tell me that you think Travis is right for you, because I know that's a fucking lie.”
She swallowed thickly, turning her gaze away for a second — enough for you to see you'd stricken a nerve.
“You don't get to tell me what's right for me,” she said, voice shaking, confirming your suspicion. “You don't even know me anymore.”
“Bullshit, Natalie,” you shook your head. “Yeah, you're right, I was watching. I was staring. And all I saw tonight was him repeatedly taking you for granted. Missing signs. Talking about you like you're some prize he got after being a sorry fucking idiot his whole life. So if I don't fucking know you, don’t try to tell me that he does.”
Natalie ran her hands through her face, apparently not caring that she might mess up her makeup, taking a few steps to the side like she didn't know what to do with herself.
“God. You're— you're infuriating,” she muttered, muffled by her hands, dropping her arms. “You don't get to do this. Just— talk about who knows me or how he treats me when you ignored every single text I sent after we were done. When you didn't even care that I tried to reach out. And now, what, suddenly you give a shit?”
You froze, because she was right. She'd reached out a couple of times, texts popping up on your phone screen a few months after the breakup, no longer than two or three words. But still — that didn't count. You didn't want her pity check-ins, you didn't want her guilt-ridden half-words. So you’d ignored them, heartbroken and humiliated, figuring you'd spare yourself from any more embarrassment than she'd already put you through.
“I'm not sure you can call a fucking ‘you there’ text in the middle of the night reaching out, Nat.”
“Well, it was something,” she stepped up defensively. “And you never even said anything back. I didn't think you'd move on that fast.”
You chuckled humorlessly, shocked, unable to believe just how much she'd misread the situation.
“You think I didn't say anything because I'd moved on?” You took a step forward too, brows furrowed in utter disbelief. “I was heartbroken, Nat. I spent months trying to pick up the pieces after you dumped me. Do you know how offensive it was to wake up to your drunk texts like, what, you were trying to absolve your guilt and call it a day?”
Nat stopped in place, lips parting as she let out a tortured breath that seemed to come right from the pit of her stomach.
“I wasn't trying to—” She closed her eyes, sighing, shaking her head once. “It was never about guilt, Y/N. I was trying to fucking talk to you. Tell you I’d made a mistake. That I shouldn't have let you go. But you never even answered, so I thought— I just figured you'd— I thought you didn't wanna hear it.”
It took a moment for you to let that sink in.
“You… you were trying to…”
“To get back together,” she interrupted, defeated now, voice lower. “To beg you to forgive me and take me back. But I knew how much I hurt you, so when I thought you'd moved on, I just figured I'd leave you alone. I didn't wanna drag you back into my bullshit.”
“You should've—” You stammered, head spinning so hard you couldn't bring yourself to say a full sentence. “You should've tried harder. You should've— I don't know, you should've showed up. I’d have taken you back in a second,” you admitted, not above the truth at this point.
Nat swallowed, a sad smile popping up on her lips, like she'd also realized how different things could've been if you'd both just let go of your stupid pride while you still could.
“I didn't wanna risk hurting you again. If you were already over it, I didn't wanna…” she trailed off. “I was a fucking idiot.”
You both stayed quiet for a moment, looking at each other in painful realization now, the fire of the argument fading in the night breeze. You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, figuring you should say something to at least try and make things a little better.
“I'm sorry I was such a bitch tonight. It was just…” You sighed. “Tai and Van got married, and I guess deep down I always thought that we'd… anyway. I saw you with Travis and it… opened up an old wound I thought had healed by now.”
Natalie shook her head.
“It's okay. I didn't have to get so defensive.”
“No, no. It's not okay. I shouldn't have said those things about your relationship, you're right, it's… it's been a long time. I don't know you anymore.”
She took a step forward, closer now, the closest you'd been all night since the bathroom. A sad chuckle left her lips as her eyes turned to the side, like she was ready to say something she'd been keeping in for a while.
“Travis is nice,” she started. “He… does shit like get doors and offer to carry my bags or whatever, and he… he likes me. But you're right. We're not… good together. Whatever that fit is, we just don't have it.”
You looked at Natalie, honest and beautiful in the moonlight, and your heart stopped for a second.
“You don't?”
She shook her head.
“No. He's… a stand-in,” she took another step closer, now at arm's length, making every inch of your body burn with the desire to close the distance. “A distraction. A familiar face I saw after months of living in a city where I didn't really know anyone, and he seemed interested enough. It was never gonna amount to anything.”
You didn't say anything, you couldn't. All you managed to do was stand there, waiting, dying to know what she'd do next.
“You know, it's stupid,” she said, quieter now, low enough for her words to be carried by the breeze. “I wasn't even gonna bring him today. I figured I'd avoid the whole… thing with the girls, the stares, the comments. I didn't think it’d be worth it for something that's just gonna fizzle out soon anyway.”
You licked your lips, eyes set on her face.
“Why did you bring him, then?”
“Because of you,” she took another step, shortening the distance more and more with everything she said. “I was scared you'd show up with someone else and I wouldn't be able to hold my tongue. That I'd make a fool out of myself. Or if you didn't bring anybody… I guess I was just trying to get your attention.”
Your breath hitched, and you felt yourself go light as if her words had stricken every bone in your body.
“You wanted my attention?”
Nat walked closer, now mere inches away — enough for you to smell her perfume again, enough for you to feel the champagne in her breath.
“Mm-hm,” she hummed. “I wanted you to look at me like you used to. Like he doesn't, like no one else has. I wanted to know you still saw me.”
Your knees shook, hand aching at your side with the need to reach up and touch her.
“Of course I still see you, Nat,” you admitted, figuring there was no more use hiding it, it was all over your face. “You wanted my attention? You have it. You've always had it.”
Natalie finally brought a hand up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingertips on your cheek making your entire body light up.
“And you've always had mine,” she whispered, eyes darker, lost between your gaze and your lips like she couldn't decide what she'd missed looking at the most. “All these years and we both could've just… said it. Like that. But we've been too busy being stupid.”
You leaned in, lips nearly brushing hers now, sharing the same breath.
“Guess we should stop wasting time, then.”
When Nat kissed you, it wasn't slow. It wasn't hesitant or tame or riddled with doubts that came with years of silence and miscommunication. It was electric. Her lips crashed into yours like she'd been starved, tongue claiming your mouth in a way only she ever could, and you fired back with the same intensity — you just needed her close, her there, you needed to crawl into her skin and never let go, not again. Her hands roamed through your body like no time had passed, still knowing every inch of you and taking advantage of it, warm and possessive and so good you forgot where you were for a moment.
And if Nat hadn't forgotten, it didn't seem like she cared. She pushed you up against the wall behind you, pulling a delicious gasp from your lips before diving in again, right where anybody (including her boyfriend) could walk out and see. You didn't stop her. You wouldn't stop her if the whole party came out to watch. Natalie was touching you, kissing you, and it was so much better than any old memory or dream you'd ever had, because it was real. And it was now. And the intensity with which she did it left no room for doubt that she wanted this — that she'd missed it just as much as you.
When you finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, forehead against hers, neither of you said anything. Words weren't needed. They'd already failed you once, you weren't about to let it happen again, not now. You could talk later. You'd have all the time in the world for that.
Instead, you just enjoyed it for what it was. A big, wide, gorgeous smile took over Nat's lips, giving you all the answers you needed. Travis was still inside, and you had years of unspoken, complicated feelings to figure out, but it didn't matter. In the end, you were still hers, and she was still yours. Just like that. Like no distance or time or failed shot at a rebound could ever fully erase it.
You smiled back at her, a silent promise that you wouldn't let history repeat itself, that no matter what happened you wouldn't let her go, not anymore.
syn You've spent years watching Manon Bannerman from a distance, believing the stories you were raised on. Getting to know her means questioning everything your family taught you including the parts of yourself you've tried hardest to hide.
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ (non-idol!Manon x Latina!reader) long fic religious topics a man mature topics reader doesn't talk much supposed to be southern gothic wc. 6.3k 01 | 02 | 03 library𓆩♱𓆪
notes hey, guys im updating my master list so dont even worry about the new post
Magnolia Creek, Georgia — Thursday, August 18th, 7:32 AM
You woke up earlier than the rest of your family, not meaning to. Your neck screamed when you sat up, and your back popped in three places.
You could hear something moving downstairs. Your mamá's footsteps, you knew them by the way they moved from counter to stove to sink in.
You walked downstairs.
Your mother was at the stove, her back to you, she was wearing her housecoat, the blue terrycloth one with the bleach stain on the sleeve, and her bare feet were flat against the floorboard, and there was something about the slope of her shoulders that looked almost relaxed.
"Mamá..." you said quietly.
She hummed in response. A low, absent sound, like she'd already forgotten you'd been locked in your room twelve hours ago, like she'd already forgotten the slap and the drag and the rosary beads thrown at your chest.
"What are you making?" you asked.
"Tostadas francesas," she said.
You stopped in the doorway. Your mother never made French toast, not on weekdays, and not even on ordinary mornings. French toast meant someone important was coming over, or something bad had happened and needed smoothing over.
The last time she'd made French toast was the morning of your father's funeral.
You'd eaten it dry, without syrup, because your abuela said syrup was an indulgence and a funeral was not the time for indulgences.
You stepped into the kitchen fully, the floorboards creaking under your weight.
"After I finish this, we're going out," your mother said. She still hadn't turned around. The smell of cinnamon and browning butter filled the kitchen. "To buy you new dresses. Abuela and I have someone for you to meet. I think you'll like them."
The words landed like stones dropped into still water. You stood there in your rumpled, sweat stained sundress and she was talking about new dresses and someone to meet, and you understood, all at once, what was happening.
She was marrying you off.
Or trying to. Dressing you up like a doll and presenting you to some boy, some nice Catholic boy from a nice Catholic family who went to Mass three times a week and didn't ask questions and didn't look at girls across the street in white babydoll dresses.
This was her solution. The lock didn't work, the prayers didn't work, the slap didn't work, so now she was going to fix you the old fashioned way, with a ring, and a husband.
She turned around and smiled at you. This morning, in the soft kitchen light, she looked almost gentle.
Almost like the mother you'd had before your father died, the one who used to sing while she cooked, the one who'd taught you to braid your own hair when you were six years old and had sat you on her lap and shown you how to cross the strands over and under and through.
"Go take a shower," she said. "And don't put on the sundress. Put on the outfit your aunt bought for you."
Yeah right, like you were going to put on the dress Manon had gotten you. Not a chance in hell.
You nodded. Your voice was somewhere else. "Okay, Mamá."
The bathroom was small and humid even before you turned the water on. You peeled off the sundress and let it fall to the tile floor.
You stepped into the shower. The water was hot and hard, and you sighed in relief the moment it hit your shoulders. The sound that came out of you was almost obscene, a long, low exhale that turned into something softer, something that would've been a moan if you'd let it.
Your mind wandered.
It always wandered now It wandered across the street and up the Bannerman porch and through their front door and up the stairs to wherever Manon was right now. Her face came to you in pieces, the way her eyes crinkled at the corners when she smiled, the mole just above her lip, dark and round and perfect, placed there by a God who must have known exactly what He was doing.
Your hand slid down your stomach. You didn't tell it to, it moved on its own, a slow, drifting drag that followed the path of the water down your skin, over the curve of your belly. Your breath hitched.
Your fingers found the slick seam of your pussy, and you gasped. You'd touched yourself before, sure, in the dark of your bedroom when everyone was asleep, under the covers where God couldn't see. But it had never felt like this. It had never felt like your whole body was a tuning fork and someone had just struck the note.
Manon.
You slid a single finger up through your folds, and your knees almost buckled. The water beat down on your back.
Your other hand braced against the shower wall, palm flat against the cold tile, and you circled your clit with a finger that was clumsy and hesitant and desperate all at once, your hips jerking forward into the touch like they'd been waiting for permission your whole life.
Your mind filled with images you didn't know you had, Manon's mouth, Manon's hands, Manon's tongue on the back of your hand but lower, somewhere else, somewhere that made your thighs tremble and your cunt clench around nothing.
The sound you made was high and keening and barely human, a whimper that started somewhere in your chest and got caught in your throat—
"Mija! We gotta go!"
Your mother's voice cut through the steam like a blade. You snatched your hand back like you'd been burned. Water pounded against your pussy, cold now, or maybe that was just the absence of your own touch. Your heart was slamming against your ribs.
"Coming!" you yelled back, and your voice cracked on the word.
You stood there for another thirty seconds, breathing hard, the water running over your face and into your open mouth.
Your clit was still throbbing. You hadn't finished, the ache was still there, coiled and hot and unsatisfied, and you didn't have time to do anything about it, and part of you was almost grateful.
You turned off the shower and stepped out. The air outside the curtain was cool and sharp. You towelled off with rough, hurried strokes, and then you looked at the dress your tía had given you. And then you looked at the sundress from yesterday, lying in a heap on the bathroom tile, still stained, still smelling of sweat and fear.
You couldn't wear the dress.
You picked up the sundress.
The walk into town was misery.
The sun had climbed higher since you'd woken up, and the heat had stopped pretending to be mild.
Your mother walked beside you. Not in front of you, like she usually did, but beside you. Close enough that your elbows almost brushed.
"Why couldn't we use the car?" you asked, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. "It's hot out here."
"Your thighs are getting fat," she said. "You could use the exercise."
The words were casual. The way another mother might comment on the weather, but they landed in your chest like a punch, and your step faltered, and you felt your face go hot with a shame that had nothing to do with the sun.
You slowed down and let the distance between you and your mother stretch like taffy until you were walking three steps behind her instead of beside her, your eyes fixed on the back of her.
You didn't want to be beside her, didn't want to be anywhere near her.
The store was downtown, on Main Street, wedged between the hardware store and the bakery that had been boarded up since the recession. It wasn't the kind of store your family usually shopped at.
The mannequins in the window were wearing dresses that looked like they'd been airlifted from a different century, lace and ruffles and high collars, sleeves that went all the way down to the wrist, hemlines that went all the way down to the ankle.
Modest church dresses.
The kind of dresses that said I am a good girl, I am a pure girl, I am not thinking about women in white dresses, I am not touching myself in the shower, I am not anything but what my mother wants me to be.
The store was packed.
Apparently everyone had someone coming over, or maybe everyone was just as desperate as your mother to find something that would fix whatever was broken in their daughters.
The air smelled like perfume and floor polish and the faint, sour undertone of too many bodies in too small a space.
"Go look for some dresses," your mother said, already scanning the store with that sharp, hungry look she got when there was business to be done. "I'm gonna go talk to Mrs. Avanzini and Miss Laforteza."
You followed her gaze.
They were standing near the changing rooms, the two of them, Mrs. Avanzini from the Baptist auxiliary and Miss Laforteza from the post office, the same two women who'd been gossiping about Manon in Piggly's, the same two women whose whispers had gotten you slapped and locked in your room and starved.
They were already whispering to each other when your mother approached, their heads bent together like crows sharing carrion, and your mother slid into their circle as easy as a knife into a sheath.
Her daughter caused quite the scene at church, I heard, Mrs. Avanzini's eyes said as they flicked toward you. Best to marry that one off quick before she brings more shame to the family.
You turned away and walked deeper into the store.
The racks were endless. Row after row of dresses in colors that all blurred together.
You ran your fingers over the fabric as you walked.
Lace, eyelet, tulle and cotton so stiff with starch it could stand up on its own.
Nothing here looked like you. Nothing here looked like the girl you'd seen in your mirror last night.
"Hey. You're Mrs. Molina's kid, right?"
The voice came from behind you.
You turned around.
The girl standing in front of you was about your age, maybe a little older, with black hair that fell to her waist in a curtain of liquid silk. Her face was heart-shaped, delicate, with a small pointed chin, and her lips, full, pink and perfectly shaped, the bottom lip slightly plumper than the top, like a doll's mouth, like a mouth that had been drawn by someone who spent a lot of time thinking about mouths.
She was wearing a sundress the color of ripe peaches, the straps thin, the neckline square, the hem swinging just above her knees. A thin gold chain hung around her neck, and nestled in the hollow of her throat was a tiny cross, real gold, you could tell by the way it caught the light.
You recognised her, but her face. You'd seen her in the background of your life for years, at Mass, at the grocery store, walking down Main Street with a cluster of other girls around her like petals around a flower's center.
She was one of the girls your mother approved of. One of the good ones. One of the ones your abuela didn't pray about.
"I'm Sophia," she said. "Sophia Laforteza."
Of course this perfect girl with her perfect mouth and her perfect gold cross was the daughter of Miss Laforteza from the post office. It was almost too neat, like a story your mother would have written if your mother had any imagination at all.
Sophia Laforteza, who steam opened letters for fun, who knew everyone's secrets before they knew them themselves, who'd probably heard all about your shame from her mother before the bruise on your cheek had even finished forming.
You nodded. You didn't trust your voice yet. You'd learned a long time ago that silence was safer than words.
"That's Daniela," Sophia said, pointing over her shoulder.
Daniela Avanzini was shorter than Sophia, dark curls that fell past her shoulders. She has two deep dimples carved themselves into her cheeks like punctuation marks.
She was wearing a yellow dress with tiny white flowers, the fabric clinging to her hips and a stomach so flat, you would've thought she was born with a six pack. Daniela was biting her lip like she was trying not to laugh at a joke you hadn't heard yet.
"And I'm Megan," said a third voice.
Megan Skiendiel was the tall one. Almost a full head taller than Daniela, with dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a simple white blouse and a floral skirt that brushed her thigh, and she had the kind of smile that made you want to smile back even when you weren't sure why. She was soft, this one, the kind of soft that came from never having been hit.
"My mother's not here," Megan added, as if she'd read your mind. "Sophia invited me."
"So, are you like some kind of hermit crab?" Daniela asked, tilting her head. Those dimples flashed again. "I mean, we never see you out. Ever. You're like a cryptid, a really pretty cryptid, but still a cryptid."
Sophia nudged Daniela hard in the ribs with her elbow, sharp enough to make the shorter girl wince. "Daniela," she hissed, in a tone that was more warning than reprimand.
You felt your face go hot. The three of them were looking at you and you weren't used to being looked at. You'd spent your whole life being watched (by your mother, by your abuela, by the women at church)
"I'm not really..." you started, and then paused, scrambling for the right words.
The English came slowly, still tangled in Spanish, still getting stuck somewhere between your brain and your tongue. "I'm not really an outside person."
You wanted to be an outside person.
You wanted to be on porches and at creeks and in the back of ice cream trucks with the door open and the radio playing, you wanted to be anywhere that wasn't your bedroom with the lock on the outside and the rosary beads in your hands, but you couldn't say that.
You couldn't say my mother doesn't let me go anywhere, my mother thinks I have evil thoughts, your mothers were the ones who told my mother about the girl in the white dress and that's why my face looks like this. So you lied instead.
"Well, you're outside now," Megan said. "You wanna hang out with us after this?"
You looked at her. Then at Daniela. Then at Sophia, who was watching you with an expression you couldn't quite read, something between curiosity and calculation, like she was working out a puzzle and you were the final piece.
"I have to ask my mom," you said.
"Mommy!" Sophia yelled, and her voice cut across the store like a blade, loud and unapologetic and so completely unconcerned with making a scene that you felt a spike of something that might have been admiration. "Can Mrs. Molina's daughter come to the park with us?"
Every head in the store turned. Miss Laforteza looked up from her conversation with Mrs. Avanzini, her eyes finding her daughter with the resigned patience of a woman who had long ago stopped trying to control Sophia's volume. Mrs. Avanzini's mouth tightened into a thin, unreadable line. And your mother—
Your mother looked directly at you.
The distance between you was maybe thirty feet, but it felt like thirty miles and thirty inches at the same time. Her eyes moved over your face, over the bruise, over the dress that was wrinkled and sweat stained and wrong, over the three girls clustered around you like a protective detail. And then she spoke, in Spanish, her voice carrying across the store without any apparent effort at all.
"Como confío en estas chicas y en sus madres, te voy a dejar ir, pero esta será la última vez que salgas si me entero de que hiciste algo o fuiste a algún sitio al que no debías ir."
The threat wasn't veiled, it wasn't even trying to be. It was a knife held to your throat in a public place, and everyone in the store knew it.
"Okay, Mamá," you said.
Your mother nodded. "Be back before eight."
And then Daniela grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward the door, and the bell above the door chimed your exit.
"What did she say?" Megan asked, as soon as the door had swung shut behind you. The three of them had formed a loose semicircle around you on the sidewalk, blocking you in without seeming to try. "Your mom. What did she actually say?"
Daniela snorted. "Pretty much that if her daughter does something she doesn't like, she's gonna beat her ass."
"She's not wrong," you muttered.
Sophia fell into step on your other side, Megan trailed behind, her sandals slapping against the hot asphalt. The four of you walked like that for a block, past the Methodist church, past the hardware store with its window full of dusty power tools and faded sale signs, past the old oak tree where someone had nailed a sign that said REPENT in red letters that had been bleached pink by the sun.
Then Sophia glanced over her shoulder.
"Okay," she said, and her voice had changed. "We're not going to the park."
You stopped walking. Your sandal caught on a crack in the sidewalk, and you stumbled, and Daniela's grip on your arm tightened to keep you upright.
"What?"
"Please tell me you have a better outfit than that," Megan said, gesturing at your dress. Her nose wrinkled. "Because where we're going, you're gonna want to look less like you just crawled out of a convent."
You looked down at the bag on your arm. It was a simple brown paper bag, the kind you got from the drugstore, the kind your tía had handed you last night with a smile and a wink and a go to your room, try it on.
You'd stuffed the babydoll dress inside it this morning, on some impulse you couldn't name, maybe somewhere in the back of your mind you'd been hoping you'd find a reason to wear it.
"How do you..." you started.
"She told us," Sophia said, and her voice was patient but firm, the voice of someone who was used to repeating herself. "Now where is it?"
You looked at the three of them.
You reached into the bag. Your fingers found the lace, the cool and delicate fabric.
You pulled the dress out. Held it up in the afternoon light. It was perfect, the lace glowing white against the blue sky, the puffed sleeves catching the breeze.
"Perfect," Megan breathed.
They dressed you in the bathroom of Park.
The park was mostly empty at this hour.
The bathroom was a squat concrete building near the parking lot, smelling of bleach and cheap soap and the faint, permanent staleness of public spaces that had been cleaned a thousand times and never quite got clean.
You stood in the middle of the sticky tile floor in your bra and underwear while Sophia held up the babydoll dress and Megan rummaged through her own bag for something, "I have lip gloss, wait, no, that's my bus pass, wait, here" and Daniela leaned against the sink with her arms crossed.
"Arms up," Sophia commanded.
You raised your arms. The dress slid over your head, down your shoulders, over your chest and your waist and your hips. It settled against your body like it had been made for you.
Maybe Manon had seen you across the street, had watched you watching her, had known your measurements by heart just from the way your sundresses hung on your frame. The thought made your stomach flip.
"Oh, she's gonna lose her mind," Daniela said, and her voice was pure delight.
"Here." Megan stepped forward, holding a tube of something pink and glossy. "Lip gloss. It's cherry. Tastes like candy, Manon will like it."
You opened your mouth to ask how Megan knew what Manon would like, and then you closed it again, because the answer was obvious. These girls knew Manon, knew her well enough that she'd told them about you, about the dress, about the letter.
Megan swiped the gloss across your lips. It tasted like cherries and chemicals, sweet and artificial and utterly perfect. Your mouth felt wet, pink, obscene. You caught your reflection in the scratched mirror, and you looked like a different person. Like the girl from last night, the one who'd twirled in front of the mirror and thought I look like I could be hers.
"Alright," Sophia said, stepping back to admire her work. "Let's go. We're already late."
They led you past the park and into the woods.
The path was narrow and dusty. The light shifted as you walked. The air grew cooler as you walked, wetter, carrying the faint mineral scent of water over stone, over earth, over the sweet decay of fallen leaves and rotting wood and something flowering.
"Can you tell me where we're going now?" you asked.
"The creek," Daniela said.
"We go there all the time," Sophia added.
"It's kind of our spot," Megan said from behind you. "Manon found it like five years ago. No adults know about it. It's totally private."
The sound of water grew louder. The path curved sharply to the left, ducked under a fallen log that someone had chopped a doorway through, and then opened up into a clearing.
The creek was beautiful.
It wasn't a creek, really, not the way you'd imagined a creek, it was wider than that, almost a small river, with water the color of strong tea flowing over a bed of smooth grey stones.
Sunlight broke through a gap in the canopy and hit the water in a long, golden swath, making the surface shimmer like hammered metal.
On one side of the creek, the bank sloped gently down to the water's edge, covered in soft green moss and clumps of ferns. On the other side, a flat wooden bridge spanned the narrowest part of the current, leading to a second clearing where someone had arranged fallen logs into a rough circle around a stone ringed fire pit.
There were already people there. More girls than you expected, scattered around the clearing, sitting on logs, perched on the bridge, dangling their bare feet in the water. Sophia led you into them like a tour guide, her hand on the small of your back, her voice bright and performative.
"Come meet our newest friend," she announced.
The girls looked up. You learned their names in a blur of faces and voices and hands raised in greeting.
Lara Raj, with brown skin that gleamed like polished wood.
She had a dancer's body and her face was sharp and clever, with dark eyes that glittered with amusement as she looked you over.
She was wearing a cropped white tank top and low waisted shorts that showed off the flat plane of her stomach.
Huh Yunjin had a heart shaped face and a wide, expressive mouth that seemed to be permanently on the edge of a laugh. Her hair was an unnatural shade of copper red that glowed like a new penny in the dappled sunlight.
Camila Valdes, her hair cascaded of dark waves that fell to the middle of her back.
Her cheeks are round, friendly, with a button nose. She had a voice like honey, low and slow.
And Adela Jergova was Czech, or maybe Slovak, you weren't sure, with sharp cheekbones and ice pale hair dyed a hot pink that should have looked ridiculous and instead looked natural.
"Another one, Sophia?" Adela asked, her accent softening the edges of her English. "Manon is collecting them like stamps now, I think."
Laughter rippled through the group. You sat down on the log Sophia guided you to, your bare thighs pressing against the rough bark, your hands folded in your lap.
The other girls resumed their conversations around you, Lara and Camila arguing about something intensely, Yunjin braiding Adela's pink hair while Adela talked about some party she'd gone to last weekend in the next town over.
You sat there and didn't speak.
You'd learned silence the way other girls learned piano, practiced it until it was second nature, until not speaking felt safer than speaking, but Sophia, sitting beside you, nudged your knee with hers.
"She should be here soon," Sophia murmured, low enough that only you could hear.
"Who?" The word slipped out before you could stop it, but you already knew the answer. You'd known the answer since the moment you'd pulled the white babydoll dress out of your bag.
"Manon. That's who you're thinking about, right?"
You looked at her. Sophia's dark eyes were unreadable, her perfect mouth curved in a smile that wasn't quite a smile. She knew, all of them knew. The thought should have terrified you, but instead it felt like a relief.
"Yeah," you said. Your voice was barely more than a whisper. "She'll be here?"
Sophia nodded. "She will."
She came out of the woods like she'd been summoned.
One moment the clearing was full of conversation and laughter and the rush of the creek.
The next moment, Manon Bannerman was standing at the edge of the clearing in a black tank top and denim shorts that rode high on her thighs, her dark curls loose around her shoulders, her eyes scanning the group until they found you.
The mole above her lip caught the light. Your heart caught in your throat.
She was holding a canvas bag in one hand, lumpy, straining at the seams, probably stuffed with snacks or towels or something else you couldn't name.
"Well damn, don't start saying hi all at once now," she said.
Her voice. That accent hit you like a physical thing. Lara was on her feet, Camila was shouting something you couldn't make out, Yunjin abandoned Adela's hair and bounded across the clearing, and Daniela was already there, throwing her arms around Manon's neck with the easy intimacy of someone who'd done it a thousand times.
"Where have you been?" Daniela demanded.
"Getting snacks," Manon said, holding up the bag. "And avoiding my sister. She keeps asking me about college applications. It's August. I don't want to think about college applications."
Lara and Daniela flanked her, one on each side, hugging her from both angles until Manon's face broke into a full, genuine smile that made your chest ache.
She looked at you.
Sophia, beside you, made a sound that might have been a laugh and might have been a knowing hum, and then she stood up and moved to the other log, leaving the one you were sitting on conspicuously empty.
Manon crossed the clearing, and sat down beside you. Close enough that the heat of her body radiated through the gap of air between your bare thighs.
Close enough that you could smell her, you could count the individual freckles dusted across her collarbones if you wanted to.
"Am I a stranger now?" she asked, and her voice was teasing.
"No," you said. The word came out fast, too fast, desperate in a way you couldn't hide. "Just waiting for you to say hi."
She laughed.
"Right," she said. She glanced down at your dress and her smile shifted, becoming something sharper, something more knowing. "I see you liked my gift."
Her hand moved.
Her fingers found the hem of the babydoll dress, right where it brushed against your mid thigh, and she toyed with the lace, rubbing the fabric between her thumb and forefinger.
The touch was light, but your thighs clenched together involuntarily, and you felt your face go hot, and somewhere deep in your belly, the ache from this morning stirred and stretched and woke up.
"Yeah," you managed. Your voice was steadier than you felt. "Thank you. You didn't have to give it to me."
"I did." Her fingers were still playing with the hem, tracing slow, idle patterns into the lace. "Think of it as an apology, because your mom hit you."
The words hung in the air between you.
The other girls were talking among themselves now, their voices a low, comfortable murmur in the background, giving you space without making it obvious that they were giving you space.
Manon's eyes were still on yours, steady and unblinking, and you couldn't look away, didn't want to look away, would have given anything to keep looking at her for another hour, another day, another forever.
You didn't say anything.
You just stared at her face, at her stupidly, achingly beautiful face, and she tilted her head, her curls shifting, falling across one eye, and she looked at your mouth the way you'd been looking at hers, and then she looked back up at your eyes, and the question in her gaze was so obvious it might as well have been written across her forehead in ink.
"Come," she said.
She was standing now, her hand extended toward you, her fingers long and elegant and slightly sticky with the residue of whatever snacks she'd been carrying. "Let's go somewhere more private."
"Where are we going?"
"By the lake," she said, and jerked her chin toward the wooden bridge, toward the cluster of trees on the other side, toward somewhere you couldn't see yet and already wanted to be.
"Don't fuck her in public, Manon!" Adela yelled from across the clearing. Her voice carried across the water like a bell, and the whole group dissolved into laughter.
Manon rolled her eyes, but the tips of her ears went pink.
She flipped Adela off with the casual, practiced ease of someone who did it regularly, and then she grabbed your hand and pulled.
The wooden bridge was low and flat, just a few planks laid across a narrow spot in the creek, anchored to the bank on each side with rusted iron stakes that had probably been there longer than you'd been alive.
The wood was silver with age, worn smooth by water and weather and the passage of countless bare feet. Moss grew in the cracks.
Manon sat down on the edge of the bridge. Let her bare legs dangle over the side, her toes barely brushing the surface of the creek. You sat beside her.
It was quiet here.
The rush of the water was softer, muffled by the curve of the bank, and the other girls' voices had faded to a distant murmur, and the only sounds were the water and the wind in the leaves and your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.
Manon linked her pinky up with yours.
It was such a small gesture, but your whole body lit up like a struck match, and your cheeks went hot, and your breath caught in your throat.
You didn't say anything.
"Do you like me?" she asked.
The question came out of nowhere.
You stared at her. Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Words failed you they always failed you, especially the important ones.
"Have you ever liked a girl?" she asked.
You shook your head. Never admitted, never acknowledged, never named, just pressed down and prayed away and locked behind your teeth where it couldn't hurt anyone.
"What about a boy?"
"Mamá never let me near boys when I was younger," you said. Your voice was barely above a whisper. "So... not really."
She hummed. It was a soft, thoughtful sound, completely unreadable.
"How do you feel when you're around me?" she asked.
The question hit you like a wave.
You could lie, could deflect.
You could do what you'd always done, but what was the point of that? What had safety ever gotten you? A locked door? A bruised cheek?
A rosary that never got warm no matter how many prayers you ran through it.
"Like my heart is gonna explode," you said. The words came out in a rush, tumbling over each other. "All I do is think about you. About every interaction we've had. Every time you've ever looked at me. Every time—"
"It's only been two," Manon said, and her voice was almost teasing, almost gentle.
"Exactly." You turned to face her.
The movement brought your knees together, brought your shoulder against hers, brought you close enough to see the individual flecks of gold in her irises. "You make my mind race, and I don't know how to stop it. I don't know if I want to stop it. I don't... I don't know anything anymore, Manon, I just know that when I'm not with you I'm thinking about you, and when I am with you I'm terrified, and I'm also, I'm also not terrified at all, and—"
She kissed you.
Her hand came up to cup your jaw, and her mouth pressed against yours, soft and warm and tasting faintly of the cherry lip gloss Megan had swiped across your lips and something else underneath, something that was just her.
Her lips were fuller than yours, softer, and when she tilted her head and deepened the kiss just slightly, your brain went completely, blissfully blank.
"Was that okay?" she whispered against your lips.
You nodded. Nodded so hard your forehead bumped against hers. "Yes, yes, I—"
She cut you off with another kiss, and this time you kissed her back.
Your hands came up, shaking, clumsy, not knowing where to go, and she guided them to her waist, to the curve of her hips, to the warm skin that was bare between the hem of her tank top and the waistband of her shorts.
She was soft there. Softer than you'd imagined, and you'd imagined it so many times.
She pulled you closer, and you went willingly, eagerly, your body moving before your brain could catch up.
She guided you onto her lap, your thighs straddling hers, the dress riding up dangerously high, your hands braced on her shoulders.
The kiss got messier.
Your noses bumped, and your teeth clicked together, just once, and Manon laughed against your mouth.
You had to break for air.
You were gasping, your chest heaving, your lips wet and swollen and tingling, but you were kissing her again almost immediately, you couldn't stop, didn't want to stop, wanted to keep kissing her until the sun went down and the stars came out and the world ended and started over again.
Her hand slid under the hem of the dress.
You gasped.
The sound was high and sudden and embarrassingly loud, and Manon's fingers stilled on your thigh, her palm warm and slightly rough against your bare skin.
She looked up at you, her pupils blown wide, her mouth pink and kiss swollen, and she didn't say a word.
She didn't need to.
The question was in her eyes, and you answered by rolling your hips.
It was completely involuntary.
Your body moved on its own, grinding down onto her lap, the seam of your underwear pressing against the rough denim of her shorts.
The friction was sharp and sweet and not nearly enough, and you whimpered into her mouth, a sound so small and desperate you barely recognized it as your own.
Manon broke the kiss, her lips parted. She was about to say something,
"Hey! It's almost eight, babe! Your mother said be home before that!"
Sophia's voice cut through the air like a gunshot.
You jerked backward so fast you nearly toppled off the bridge.
Manon's hands caught your hips, steadying you, but you were already scrambling to your feet, your dress falling back into place, your hair coming loose from the elastic, your heart hammering so hard you could feel it in your teeth.
"Shit," you breathed. "Shit, I forgot. Meret, I'm sorry, I gotta—"
She cut you off with a kiss. Soft, this time.
"I heard," she said. "Now go, before you get in trouble."
You ran, and stumbled over the wooden planks, caught yourself on the railing, and ran.
Your sandals slapped against the bridge, against the mossy bank, against the dusty path that wound through the trees.
Your dress fluttered around your thighs.
Your lips were still tingling, heart was still racing. You could still feel the ghost of Manon's hand on your thigh, her mouth on your mouth, the shape of her name in your throat.
Meret.
Manon watched her go.
The Molina girl disappeared into the treeline at a dead sprint, her babydoll dress flickering between the trunks like a ghost, and Manon sat there on the edge of the wooden bridge with her legs dangling over the water and her pulse still beating hard in her ears.
The spot where the girl's thighs had pressed against hers was still warm.
Her lips were still tingling from the kiss, that tasted like cherries and inexperience and something hungrier underneath.
From across the creek, Daniela's voice rang out, bright and mocking and full of delight.
"Manon's got a girlfriend!"
"Stop," Manon groaned, but she was smiling, she couldn't help it, the smile was spreading across her face like a sunrise and there wasn't a damn thing she could do to stop it.
Megan's voice joined in, high and sing song, poking at Manon's ribs from the other side. "Manon's got a girlfriend, Manon's got a girlfriend—"
Manon ran her thumb over her bottom lip, where the Molina girl's mouth had been pressed two minutes ago.
When I think of her my heart aches like it’s lived an entire lifetime with her. And sometimes I feel like it has. Like it’s some secret only my soul and her soul know. And we’re just silly and confused and have no idea of it.
until death do us part - daniela avanzini x fem reader
synopsis - when y/n agrees to be one of manon’s bridesmaids, daniela doesn’t think much of it. that is, until she spends the happiest day of her friends’ lives trying not to let jealousy ruin hers.
warnings - 18+ MDNI, explicit sexual content, jealous & possessive daniela , dirty talk, oral sex, fingering, face sitting, choking/breath play (consensual), alcohol consumption, strong language
today was about sophia and manon finally getting married.
daniela sat on the left side of the chapel, around five rows back. she crossed one leg over the other, smoothing invisible creases from the black dress she’d spent entirely too long choosing.
it hugged her figure without looking overdone, the ribbed fabric sculpting softly around her waist before falling into a fitted silhouette. delicate spaghetti straps rested over her shoulders, framing a sweetheart neckline that dipped gently across her chest. the sides of the dress curved inward with subtle cut-outs that revealed just enough skin above her waist to catch the light whenever she moved.
her dark curls had been left down, glossy and defined, falling over both shoulders in soft waves that brushed against the straps of her dress whenever she turned her head.
she’d wanted to look nice, it was one of her best friends’ wedding. as she looked around the room, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. manon’s family were speaking quietly a few rows ahead and someone on sophia’s side was already crying before the ceremony had even started.
the lights dimmed and conversation slowly disappeared. one by one, people rose to their feet, chairs scraped gently across polished stone.
the musician sitting near the front lifted her bow, the first note echoed through the chapel. daniela turned toward the doors. they remained closed for only a second longer then they opened.
megan stepped through first, a quiet wave of smiles spread through the guests. she looked beautiful.
the bridesmaids on manon’s side wore matching champagne satin dresses that caught every bit of sunlight pouring through the windows. they were floor length with soft draping through the skirt, the fabric moving almost like liquid with every step.
the neckline wrapped gently across one shoulder before falling into an elegant silhouette that looked effortless rather than formal.
megan’s hair had been swept half-up, tiny white flowers pinned between loose curls that rested against her back.
she carried a bouquet of ivory roses tied together with cream ribbon. on the opposite side of the aisle came yoonchae, her dress was identical in every way, only the colour differed. instead of warm champagne, hers was a pale dusty blue that almost looked silver beneath the afternoon light.
sophia had chosen cooler tones, manon had chosen warmer ones. different palettes, same design. it looked perfect together.
they reached the altar before separating naturally to opposite sides. another few notes passed, the music swelled slightly.
they opened once more. lara appeared first, her arm was linked comfortably through someone else’s. daniela forgot how to breathe.
y/n.
the champagne satin somehow looked completely different on her. the dress skimmed softly over her body, catching the light every time she moved. the warm colour made her skin glow beneath the afternoon sun spilling through the windows, the satin folding and unfolding with each slow step she took.
it fit her perfectly, not tight, not loose just…perfect.
her hair had been styled into loose waves, brushed over one shoulder while the other side had been tucked neatly behind her ear with tiny white flowers woven between the strands.
daniela couldn’t look away, she’d seen y/n dressed up dozens of times. birthday dinners, christmas parties, new year’s and none of them had prepared her for this.
somehow every single person in the room seemed to disappear around her. lara, beside her, wore the matching dusty blue version for sophia’s side.
the contrast between them was almost unfair, warm champagne beside cool blue, gold beside silver, their bouquets matched the colours perfectly.
they walked slowly together, arms linked neatly at the elbows, keeping perfect pace with one another as they made their way down the aisle.
they looked comfortable, daniela hated how quickly she noticed that. she smiled anyway because she wasn’t about to be weird over people walking together at a wedding. that would be ridiculous.
halfway down the aisle…y/n looked up and their eyes met instantly almost like she’d been searching for her. a smile spread slowly across y/n’s face, the corners of her mouth lifting just enough for daniela to recognise it immediately then-
a tiny wink.
so quick nobody else would’ve caught it. daniela felt warmth shoot straight into her face. she had to fight the stupid grin threatening to spread across her own face, ducking her head for the briefest second before looking back up.
y/n had already turned forward again, daniela’s eyes followed her automatically. down the bouquet, the satin folds of the dress until they landed on lara’s arm. still linked comfortably through hers, lara leaned in ever so slightly to murmur something under her breath.
whatever it was made y/n smile again and daniela’s stomach tightened for absolutely no reason. they were bridesmaids, of course they were walking together.
they’d been paired together so it meant absolutely nothing. she knew that. still…her eyes lingered for a second longer than they should have.
on the way lara’s hand rested lightly against y/n’s forearm, on how naturally they moved together, on how close they looked. she swallowed and looked away then immediately looked back again before catching herself.
stop it.
she almost rolled her eyes at herself, it was one walk down an aisle, one wedding, one afternoon nothing about it meant anything and yet…as y/n continued toward the front of the chapel, sunlight catching in her hair while the champagne satin shimmered with every step…
daniela couldn’t shake the tiny, irrational flicker of jealousy sitting quietly in her chest.
the music changed. a few soft piano notes gave way to strings, slower now, fuller. every person in the chapel turned towards the doors once more.
they opened. sophia appeared first and the smile on her face was impossible to miss. she looked equal parts excited and completely overwhelmed, her white dress tailored perfectly, a small bouquet clasped in one hand as she took the first few steps into the chapel.
a few seconds later-
manon.
a quiet, collective breath swept through the room. she stood in the doorway for only a heartbeat, sunlight spilling around her before she started walking. she couldn’t stop smiling either. the moment their eyes found each other, everything else seemed to disappear.
~~~~~
the ceremony itself passed in a blur. there were stories from childhood friends that had everyone laughing. there were vows that somehow managed to make almost every guest reach for tissues.
daniela applauded with everyone else when they were finally pronounced married. she smiled, cried a little and laughed when megan sniffled louder than anyone else. but every so often…without meaning to…her eyes drifted to the bridesmaids more specifically to y/n.
standing beside megan, the champagne satin looked even prettier beneath the warm light now filling the chapel.
she laughed quietly at something megan whispered. shifted her bouquet from one hand to the other, brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
after photographs inside the chapel and another round of congratulations, the newlyweds finally turned towards the doors.
the quartet began playing again, this time something lighter and celebratory. the guests remained standing as the wedding party began making their way back down the aisle.
sophia and manon disappeared through the doors first, hands clasped tightly together as cheers and applause followed them outside. megan walked behind them, laughing as someone wolf-whistled from the back rows, yoonchae rolled her eyes dramatically before following after her.
then came y/n and lara. their arms weren’t linked this time, they walked side by side instead, their shoulders brushed every now and then as they laughed quietly about something daniela couldn’t hear.
maybe they had to walk close because the aisle just wasn’t very wide?
maybe daniela was imagining it, she hoped she was because somehow it felt even closer than before. she watched them all the way down the aisle watched lara lean in to say something, y/n grin, the distance between them seem to disappear entirely.
just before they reached the chapel doors, someone called lara’s name from outside and turned instinctively. without thinking, y/n’s hand came up, resting lightly against the middle of lara’s back as she guided her through the doorway.
it only lasted a second, the sort of thing people did without realising yet daniela’s jaw tightened.
there it was again, that annoying little twist in her stomach. because why the fuck is she touching her like that?
the applause slowly faded as the last of the wedding party disappeared outside. the guests began filtering into the aisle, chatting excitedly now that the ceremony was over. chairs scraped across the stone floor as everyone gathered handbags, jackets and programmes.
daniela waited until the people in front of her started moving before stepping out into the aisle herself. warm summer air met her the moment she stepped outside. somewhere ahead she could already hear laughter.
daniela found herself scanning the crowd for only one person.
“woah.”
daniela turned at the sound of y/n’s voice.
she’d somehow managed to slip away from the rest of the bridal party for a minute, weaving through the guests until she reached her. the second she stopped in front of daniela, she just… stared and her eyebrows lifted “you look fucking unbelievable, babe.”
daniela felt heat creep up her neck almost instantly, she looked down for a second, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth “shut up.”
“i’m serious” y/n shook her head, still looking her over “i knew the dress was nice, but…” she let out a quiet laugh. “jesus.”
daniela looked back up at her, unable to stop smiling “right back at you, baby.” her hand found y/n’s arm, fingers absentmindedly smoothing over the satin before trailing slowly down towards her elbow.
“this dress is…” she bit lightly at her lip, shaking her head “…i don’t even have the words.” before she could think of anything else to say, y/n leaned in for a quick kiss.
she barely pulled back before leaning in again, stealing another “sorry,” she murmured against her lips. another kiss “haven’t…”
one more “…kissed you all day.”
she finally pulled away, smiling to herself “been a little busy.”
daniela laughed quietly “a little?”
“what did you think of the ceremony?”
out of the corner of her eye, daniela caught movement. lara. she was making her way across the courtyard towards them, glancing between the two of them before looking towards the line of waiting cars.
without really thinking about it, daniela stepped forward again. her hands slid gently around the back of y/n’s neck, fingertips disappearing into the loose hair resting there.
she drew her in. this kiss lingered just a few extra seconds where neither of them seemed particularly interested in pulling away.
when they finally did, daniela’s hands stayed where they were for a beat before slowly sliding from the back of y/n’s neck, down over her shoulder, settling comfortably around her upper arm.
“sorry…” they both looked over. lara had stopped a few feet away, an apologetic smile already on her face “didn’t mean to…” she gestured vaguely between them “…interrupt.”
y/n laughed “you’re alright.”
lara nodded towards the cars waiting outside the gates “sophia’s looking for all the bridesmaids. she wants us riding over together before everyone else gets there.”
“already?” y/n asked.
“apparently” lara smiled before looking over at daniela properly “girl…” she laughed softly, giving her an appreciative once-over. “you look unreal.”
daniela smiled “as do you.”
“thanks.” lara looked back at y/n “come on, they’re literally waiting.”
y/n let out an exaggerated sigh “i’m coming.”she looked back at daniela, giving her arm a gentle squeeze “i’ll see you there?”
“yeah.”
y/n smiled one last time before reluctantly stepping away, falling into step beside lara as they headed towards the waiting bridal party.
~~~~~
the reception venue overlooked rolling gardens that seemed to stretch on forever. the kind of place that looked like it’d been lifted straight out of a magazine.
white linen draped every table, glass chandeliers hung from exposed wooden beams overhead, catching the late afternoon sun pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows. candles already flickered despite the daylight, and somewhere across the terrace a jazz trio played quietly while waiters drifted between guests with trays of champagne.
the formal photographs started almost immediately. which meant…waiting. daniela accepted a champagne flute from a passing waiter with a polite smile.
“thank you.” she took a sip, wandering towards the edge of the gardens where most of the guests had gathered to watch the wedding party being organised by the photographer.
“okay,” he called. “bridesmaids with manon first.”
megan and y/n crossed the lawn together, both in their matching champagne dresses, laughing about something as they joined manon.
the photographer adjusted them a dozen different ways.
daniela smiled to herself.
“alright, now with sophia’s side.”
y/n stepped back and lara met her halfway.
their dresses looked ridiculous together beneath the evening sun, champagne beside dusty blue, and the photographer immediately pulled them into position beside sophia.
“bit closer.” they shuffled “closer than that.” lara laughed, naturally stepping in until their shoulders touched “perfect.”
click.
daniela’s jaw tightened, it’s literally a photograph and she knew that. the photographer was telling them where to stand, that was his job.
still…why did they have to look so…comfortable?
she took another drink, someone asked the bridal party for a candid. lara leaned over and whispered something and whatever it was made y/n throw her head back laughing.
click.
daniela drained half her champagne in one go.
“everything alright?”
she looked around, one of manon’s cousins smiled at her.
“yeah.” she smiled back “just… thirsty.”
the cousin laughed before wandering away and daniela looked back towards the gardens where the photographer was still going.
“group hug!” lara immediately wrapped an arm around sophia, megan reached for manon and y/n got caught somewhere in the middle, laughing as everyone squeezed together.
it was all fine except every few minutes…lara seemed to end up next to y/n again, walking between locations, waiting while cameras were changed, standing shoulder to shoulder while someone adjusted bouquets.
what is she doing?
daniela frowned into her glass.
seriously does she have to stand that close every single time?
another sip.
it’s like she’s attached to her.
she immediately felt guilty, lara wasn’t doing anything wrong. they were bridesmaids, they’d spent the entire day together. of course they were talking and standing together but that didn’t stop the irritation bubbling away under her skin.
she finished the champagne, almost as soon as the flute was empty another appeared beside her, she took it without thinking. guests began filtering back towards the reception hall while staff opened the enormous glass doors leading inside.
place cards waited on every table, soft conversation filled the room again as people searched for their names. daniela had just started walking towards the entrance when she heard an older woman behind her.
“oh, don’t they make a lovely couple?”
she wasn’t talking to daniela but another woman beside her followed her gaze across the terrace.
“which two?”
“those girls.”
she smiled warmly.
“the one beside megan, the other bridesmaid and sophia’s friend…lara was it?”
daniela instinctively looked up. y/n and lara. they were walking towards the entrance together, lara saying something that made y/n smile again.
“aren’t they sweet?” the woman continued. “young love.”
the second woman chuckled “oh, i don’t think they’re-“
the rest disappeared beneath the rushing sound in daniela’s ears. a lovely couple. seriously?
she looked back towards them, lara reached over to brush something, probably a stray petal, from y/n’s shoulder. y/n smiled and said something back.
daniela felt something hot settle in her chest. before she realised she’d done it, she’d tipped the remaining champagne back, finishing it in one swallow. she set the empty flute down on the nearest tray with a little more force than she’d intended then headed straight inside.
she found the seating chart. table four.
daniela. next to it- y/n.
good. at least sophia had gotten one thing right.
she reached the table first, pulling out her chair before sitting down. her arms folded tightly across her chest, one heel began tapping against the wooden floor beneath the table.
y/n spotted her almost immediately. she smiled to herself before weaving between the tables, carefully slipping past waiters carrying bottles of wine and guests still trying to find their seats.
daniela didn’t move, she’d seen her coming and kept her eyes on the menu sitting in front of her.
“hi, baby.” y/n’s voice was soft, she rested one hand along the back of daniela’s chair as she leaned down, pressing a quick kiss to the side of her mouth “you alright?”
daniela hummed in response “mhm.” her hand found y/n’s thigh beneath the table almost automatically, fingers resting there for a second before her nails pressed lightly into the fabric of the champagne dress.
y/n smiled to herself “i love sophia and manon,” she murmured, leaning closer until her lips were beside daniela’s ear, “but fuck me…” she let out a tired breath “…this is exhausting.”
without another thought, she rested her head against daniela’s shoulder for a moment, eyes closing briefly “my face actually hurts from smiling.”
daniela gave another quiet hum “yeah.” her voice came out flatter than she’d intended “looks really tiring.”
there was enough edge to it that y/n immediately lifted her head again, she frowned and really looked at daniela this time. the crossed arms, the tight jaw, the way she hadn’t properly smiled once since she’d sat down “…what?”
daniela kept her eyes on the table “nothing.”
“daniela.”
“i said nothing.”
y/n tilted her head slightly “…okay, but it’s very obviously something.” before daniela could answer-
“there you two are.” megan appeared first, dropping into the chair opposite with an exaggerated sigh “my feet are actually numb.”
“you’re being dramatic,” yoonchae said, sliding into the seat beside her.
“i’m literally not.”
lara arrived last, placing her bouquet carefully beside her chair before sitting down next to y/n “i think i’ve been told to ‘look natural’ about eighty times today.”
“only eighty?” megan laughed. “lucky.”
the conversation immediately shifted. yoonchae started recounting one of the photographers trying to get manon to stop laughing, megan interrupted every other sentence and lara laughed quietly, adding her own version of events.
y/n joined in easily, smiling as she listened. beside her, daniela stayed unusually quiet, her hand never left y/n’s thigh. if anything…her grip tightened ever so slightly whenever lara leaned across to say something to y/n.
y/n noticed, she glanced sideways at her girlfriend. daniela still hadn’t looked at her once. whatever this was…it definitely wasn’t nothing.
~~~~~
dinner settled everyone.
once the speeches had finished and the nerves had worn off, the reception became exactly what weddings were supposed to be.
glasses clinked together across the room and someone kept topping up everyone’s wine before they even realised their glass was empty.
music drifted quietly through the speakers while waiters moved between tables carrying plates and laughing with guests they’d inevitably become familiar with over the last few hours.
daniela couldn’t have told anyone what she’d eaten, she knew it had been good everyone kept saying it was good, she barely noticed.
when it came time to cut the cake, everyone spilled away from their tables and gathered around the dance floor.
the enormous cake stood beneath a wall of flowers, sophia and manon already laughing before they’d even picked up the knife.
“just cut the thing already,” megan called from somewhere near the front.
the room erupted into laughter. the photographer tried desperately to get one normal photograph, he failed almost immediately when sophia deliberately dabbed icing across manon’s nose.
daniela smiled despite herself then instinctively looked for y/n. she found her a few people ahead, lara stood beside her.
of course she fucking did.
daniela slipped through the crowd without really thinking about it until she was standing on y/n’s other side.
y/n looked over “hi.”
daniela simply smiled before reaching down, finding her hand, their fingers laced together naturally.
y/n squeezed once then turned her attention back towards sophia and manon, daniela didn’t let go.
the first dance followed not long after. the lights dimmed, the room quietened. sophia held out her hand and manon rolled her eyes dramatically before taking it anyway.
everyone watched as they disappeared into the middle of the dance floor.
~~~~~
when the song came to an end, applause echoed around the room. before anyone had a chance to leave the dance floor, the dj laughed into the microphone “alright, don’t go anywhere.”
another song faded in “a married couple shouldn’t be dancing on their own.” a chorus of cheers followed. “everyone else, come and join them.”
almost instantly, the dance floor began to fill. y/n looked over at daniela “come here.”
daniela let herself be led onto the floor. as soon as they stopped, her arms slid comfortably around the back of y/n’s neck, her hands settling there like they belonged.
y/n’s found her waist just as naturally, they swayed slowly amongst everyone else, barely moving beyond the gentle rhythm of the music.
daniela’s fingers idly played with the soft hairs at the nape of y/n’s neck, twisting one absentmindedly before smoothing it back down again. she felt y/n smile “what?”
“nothing.” another slow sway. y/n looked at her for a second, her expression softening “i still can’t believe how good you look.”
daniela hummed quietly, her fingers caught lightly in the hair at the back of y/n’s neck, giving the tiniest playful tug “maybe if you took your eyes off lara for five minutes…” she spoke so casually it almost didn’t register.
“…you’d believe it.”
y/n blinked “…what?”
daniela only hummed again, her eyes fixed somewhere over y/n’s shoulder.
y/n let out a short laugh “wait…” she searched daniela’s face “…you’re joking.”
no smile “…dani?” another quiet hum and nothing else. the smile slowly disappeared from y/n’s face “…oh you’re not kidding?”
daniela still didn’t answer, she simply stepped a little closer until there was barely any space left between them, her forehead almost brushing y/n’s as they continued swaying with the music.
y/n’s hands remained around her waist, though her brow had furrowed slightly now “…baby.”
daniela’s fingers continued absentmindedly tracing the hair at the back of y/n’s neck “just dance.”
the song faded out to another round of applause.
people slowly drifted back towards their tables, stopping every few steps to greet someone they’d spotted across the room or steal another glass of champagne from a passing waiter.
y/n kept glancing sideways at daniela, who hadn’t said another word since the dance. she still held y/n’s hand, but there was something tighter about the way she did it now.
they reached their table, y/n pulled her chair out but didn’t sit. instead she turned towards daniela, lowering her voice “…baby?”
daniela looked at her.
“can we just-“
“y/nnnn!”
both of them turned. lara came stumbling over, cheeks pink from the champagne she’d clearly had more than enough of. she laughed as she reached them, immediately looping an arm around y/n’s shoulders, practically hanging off her.
“there you are.”
y/n laughed, instinctively steadying her before she toppled over “easy.”
“i’m being easy.” lara dissolved into another fit of giggles. she finally noticed daniela standing beside them and her eyes widened dramatically.
“oh…” she pointed between the two of them “i am so… so sorry.” she reached out, patting daniela’s shoulder with exaggerated sincerity “i’ve stole your girl all day.”
another laugh escaped her before she dropped her forehead against y/n’s shoulder “sorry.”
daniela held her gaze for a second “…i’ve noticed.”the words were quiet but flat enough that y/n immediately looked at her.
before lara could respond, daniela stepped forward, gently but firmly lifting lara’s arm from around y/n’s shoulders “come on.” she smiled politely “you should probably sit down before you fall over.”
lara laughed again “probably.”
megan appeared out of nowhere, shaking her head “oh fuck sake” she slipped an arm around lara’s waist “you’re done.”
“i’m fine.”
“you’ve just apologised to daniela for stealing her girlfriend.” megan sighed “come on.”
as megan began steering lara away, y/n turned straight back to daniela who was glaring at her. y/n looked across the room, grabbing onto the first distraction she saw.
“look, baby!” she pointed towards the far corner of the reception hall where a vintage-style photo booth sat surrounded by fairy lights and a growing queue of guests “a photo booth.”
she smiled nervously, slipping her fingers between daniela’s again “come on.” before daniela could answer, y/n gave her hand a gentle tug, starting to lead her across the room.
daniela followed, after only a couple of steps, her grip tightened around y/n’s hand.
y/n’s smile faltered “…ow.” she glanced down briefly before looking back at daniela “dani…”
daniela loosened her grip almost immediately “sorry.” the apology came automatically.
the photo booth sat tucked away in the corner of the reception hall, draped in strings of fairy lights that cast shifting patterns of gold across the floor around it. a red velvet curtain hung across the entrance.
y/n didn’t wait. she stepped inside first, pulling daniela in after her before letting the curtain fall closed behind them.
the space shrank instantly, the music from the reception hall became muffled, the bass thrumming through the velvet like a heartbeat.a single strip of LED lights ran across the top of the booth, casting a soft pink glow over everything.
y/n turned to face her “dani-“ that was all she got out before daniela shoved her backward. the small chair creaked beneath them as y/n landed against it, her breath catching in her throat.
daniela didn’t give her a second to recover. she stepped forward, one hand pressing against y/n’s chest, shoving her back against the chair cushions until there was barely any space left between them.
then she kissed her hard and messy. lips crashing together without finesse, without the slow build-up of a first kiss.
y/n melted into it instantly, her hands finding daniela’s waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together from chest to thighs.
daniela’s lips were hot and insistent. she bit lightly at y/n’s lower lip, tugging it between her teeth before releasing it with a quiet pop.
“you’re mine,” she murmured against y/n’s mouth, her voice rough with something between need and frustration. “stop letting everyone fucking touch you.”
y/n gasped, her fingers tightening against daniela’s hips. daniela kissed down her jaw, her neck, nipping gently at the sensitive skin just beneath her ear.
y/n’s head fell back with a quiet moan, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath daniela’s lips.
“dani p-people could see-“ another kiss, this time lower down the column of y/n’s throat.
daniela’s hands slid up her sides, fingers catching on the ribbed fabric of the champagne satin before pushing the straps down her arms.
she didn’t stop there, she kept going. until the dress pooled around y/n’s waist, exposing the soft lace of her bra and the plane of her stomach.
y/n’s breath hitched, her hands flew to daniela’s shoulders, nails digging in slightly as daniela’s lips trailed lower, over the lace covering y/n’s breasts, her teeth grazing lightly over a hardened nipple before moving on.
“fuck-“ y/n’s voice was breathy.
daniela smirked against her skin before standing up abruptly, her hands went to the hem of her own dress and without hesitation, she lifted it.
pulled her lace thong down her thighs and stepped out of it. the fabric was already damp at the crotch, the lace clinging to her skin before daniela balled it up in her fist and shoved it to y/n’s chest
“meet me on the dancefloor” her voice was low and commanding. y/n stared at the thong in her hand, her face flushed, her lips swollen from kissing. she swallowed and nodded.
her fingers closed around the damp lace, fingers curling around it instinctively before she tucked it into the small clutch bag hanging from her wrist.
daniela’s eyes stayed on her “good girl.” then she turned, pushed the curtain open and stepped out.
she left y/n sitting there, trembling slightly, her dress still pushed down around her waist, her skin flushed and her mind racing.
~~~~~
the dancefloor was already crowded when y/n finally made her way back out.
the dj had switched to a slower, sexier track. something with a deep bassline that pulsed through the floor beneath her heels.
she spotted daniela immediately, stood near the edge of the dancefloor, her back against one of the support pillars, her posture relaxed but her eyes locked on y/n the second she stepped into view.
she looked dangerous and y/n’s stomach flipped.
she weaved through the crowd, her champagne satin dress swaying with every step, her mind still reeling from the photo booth, from the way daniela had looked at her, from the way she’d spoken to her.
“you took your time.” daniela’s voice was a low purr, her eyes dark with something that made y/n’s breath catch.
she didn’t wait for an answer, instead, she turned and backed herself against y/n’s front. her ass pressed flush against y/n’s hips, her body moving instantly to the rhythm of the music.
y/n’s hands found her waist automatically, fingers curling into the satin, gripping tight as daniela began to grind against her.
every roll of her hips sent a jolt of heat straight between y/n’s thighs. she could feel the damp lace of her own thong and could feel the way her body ached for daniela’s touch.
“dani…” her voice was barely a whisper.
daniela didn’t turn around, she kept moving. one hand sliding up to tangle in y/n’s hair, her fingers twisting slightly, pulling just enough to make y/n gasp.
“shh.” she leaned back slightly, her ass still pressed against y/n’s hips, her voice a dark murmur in y/n’s ear “make up an excuse.”
y/n’s heart pounded “what?”
“get the fuck out of here,” daniela whispered, her lips brushing the shell of y/n’s ear as she spoke. “meet me in the bedroom.”
she turned around to meet y/n’s gaze over her shoulder, her expression was serious “you belong to me.”
her fingers trailed down y/n’s jaw, her chin, her neck, until they rested against the hollow of y/n’s collarbone. she dragged her fingertip along the sensitive skin there, slow and deliberate “and i’m gonna fucking prove it to you.”
then she stepped away and walked off before y/n could respond, left her standing there breathless.
~~~~~
y/n slipped away from the edge of the dance floor almost on instinct. she kept her head down, weaving between guests until she spotted the sign for the hotel bathrooms just off the ballroom lobby.
she pushed through the heavy door, the noise of the reception immediately dulling behind her.
she hurried to the nearest mirror, planting both hands against the marble countertop as she looked up “…shit.”
her cheeks were still bright pink and her hair, which had been perfectly pinned back hours earlier, had escaped in loose strands that framed her face in complete disarray.
and then there was her lipstick or…what was left of it.
it had smudged beyond the edges of her lips, faded unevenly until it looked more like she’d forgotten to reapply it than anything else.
“…shit, shit.” she grabbed a paper towel, dampening it under the tap before carefully wiping around her mouth.
she smoothed both hands down the front of her dress, straightening the satin where it had creased before adjusting the straps back into place. she tucked the loose pieces of hair behind her ears but they immediately fell back out again.
“…of course.” opening her clutch, she reached automatically for her lipstick instead…her fingers brushed against something soft and wet.
she froze and slowly looking down into the bag “…oh my god.” she squeezed her eyes shut for a second.
she bit the inside of her cheek, quickly pushing the lace further beneath the rest of her things before anyone could walk in and catch a glimpse.
her face somehow grew even hotter, she let out a long breath through her nose, shaking her head to herself trying to ignore the ache between her legs. finally finding her lip liner and lipstick, she leaned closer to the mirror.
she fluffed her hair with her fingers, pinched a little colour back into her cheeks, though she hardly needed the help and took one final look at herself.
still flushed and still a little flustered but at least she no longer looked quite so obvious.
snapping the compact shut, she slipped it back into her clutch, squared her shoulders and headed for the door.
the music grew louder as she stepped back into the corridor, laughter spilling out from the ballroom once again.
she’d barely taken a few steps before she walked straight into someone “whoa.” warm hands caught her by the elbows before she could stumble “careful.” y/n looked up.
megan.
“s-sorry.”
megan steadied her before taking a proper look at her “…hey.” her brows knitted together “you alright?”
“yeah.” the answer came far too fast “yeah, i’m fine.”
megan didn’t look convinced, she studied her for another second “you look…” she hesitated “…a bit flustered.”
y/n instinctively touched her cheek “do i?”
“a little” megan smiled faintly.
y/n laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck “it’s just… really warm in there.”
megan glanced towards the air-conditioned ballroom before looking back at her “…sure.”
there was a brief silence as y/n looked over megan’s shoulder. across the room, sophia and manon were still surrounded by relatives, being pulled into yet another round of family photos.
“…megan?”
“yeah?”
“if soph or manon ask where i am…” she hesitated, searching for something believable “…could you tell them dani’s not feeling great?”
y/n nodded “yeah… i think i’m gonna take her upstairs for a bit.”
“of course” megan gave her arm a reassuring squeeze “i’ll let them know.”
“thank you.”
“tell her i hope she’s okay.” megan smiled “go on. i’ll cover for you.”
“thanks, megs.” with one last grateful smile, y/n slipped away towards the tables to collect their things before making her way out into the hotel lobby.
~~~~~
the elevator doors chimed open just as she approached, and she stepped inside without hesitation. the mirrored walls reflected the flushed state of her skin, the slightly messy waves of her hair, the way her chest rose and fell with quickened breaths. she pressed the button for the top floor and leaned against the wall, clutching her small clutch bag tightly to her chest.
when the doors slid open again, she stepped out into the quiet hallway, the plush carpet muffling the sound of her heels. she hurried toward their room, her mind racing with images of daniela’s possessive touch, the way her voice had dropped into something dark and demanding.
she reached for her key card, her fingers brushing against the soft lace in her clutch. the wetness of it made her whimper quietly, her body tightening with need. she fumbled slightly, her free hand pressing against the door as she tried to steady herself.
the card slid into the reader with a quiet click, and the lock disengaged. she pushed the door open and stepped inside.
the room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the bedside lamp, casting a warm glow over the king-sized bed and the figure standing in the middle of it.
daniela.
she stood there barefoot, her dress still on but unzipped just enough to show the swell of her breasts beneath the black lace of her bra. her arms were crossed over her chest, her posture relaxed but her eyes burning with something raw and hungry.
y/n’s breath hitched in her throat, her fingers tightening around her clutch as she stepped inside and let the door swing shut behind her.
daniela didn’t move and didn’t speak. just watched her with those dark, intense eyes, her jaw set, her lips slightly parted as if she were already tasting her.
y/n’s pulse spiked, she took another step forward, her heels clicking softly against the floor.
daniela moved before she could take another. she crossed the room in three long strides, her hand shooting out to grab y/n’s wrist. she yanked her forward, spinning her around until y/n’s back slammed against the door with a quiet thud.
the impact stole the breath from y/n’s lungs, her clutch slipping from her fingers as daniela’s body pressed flush against hers. one hand shot up, gripping y/n’s jaw, tilting her head back just enough to claim her mouth in a hot, messy kiss.
y/n moaned into it, her hands flying to daniela’s waist, nails digging into the satin of her dress as daniela’s tongue forced its way past her lips. the kiss was rough, demanding, nothing like the soft touches they usually shared. it was possession and need as if daniela was staking her claim, her teeth grazing y/n’s lower lip before pulling back just enough to speak.
“you enjoyed that?” her voice was low, rough with something between jealousy and desire. “letting her touch you all night.”
y/n’s eyes widened, her breath coming in short gasps as daniela’s grip tightened on her jaw “b-babe it wasn’t like-“ she didn’t get to finish.
daniela cut her off with another kiss, this one even harder, her free hand sliding down to grip y/n’s throat. not tight enough to hurt, but enough to make her feel it, enough to remind her who she belonged to.
“shut up.” daniela’s voice was a dark murmur against her lips. “and open.”
y/n obeyed instantly, parting her lips for daniela’s tongue to sweep inside. she moaned, her body arching into the touch, her hips rolling instinctively against daniela’s thigh.
daniela pulled back just enough to look at her, her thumb brushing over y/n’s bottom lip before trailing down her neck, over her collarbone, and lower. her fingers traced the neckline of y/n’s dress, teasing the fabric before slipping beneath it.
“you look too fucking good in this dress.” her voice was rough, her eyes dark with hunger.
before y/n could respond, daniela’s hands were on her hips, gripping tight as she spun her around and shoved her toward the bed. y/n stumbled forward, catching herself on the mattress before daniela’s body pressed her down into the soft comforter.
“dani-“
“shh.” daniela’s breath was hot against her ear as she leaned over her, her hands sliding up y/n’s sides, pushing the champagne satin up inch by inch.
y/n whimpered, her ass lifting slightly as daniela’s hands reached the small of her back, she suddenly remembered her heels were still on.
“m-my heels-“
she started to protest, but daniela cut her off with a sharp shove her body pressing into the mattress as daniela’s hands gripped her ankles, spreading her legs wider.
“i don’t give a fuck.” daniela’s voice was a growl, her fingers digging into y/n’s thighs as she pushed her flush against the bed.
she shuffled up y/n’s body, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of y/n’s face. her hands slid up, pushing the dress up further until it pooled around her waist then before she could even react daniela sat down right on y/n’s face.
y/n moaned instantly, her hands flying to daniela’s thighs as the sudden weight pressed her deeper into the mattress. daniela’s hands shot out, gripping the headboard for balance, her hips already rolling as she ground down against y/n’s mouth.
“fuck-” daniela’s voice was a broken moan, her thighs trembling as she settled fully onto y/n’s face. “that’s it baby fuck me with your mouth.”
y/n moaned, her tongue flicking out instinctively, lapping at daniela’s dripping pussy. she could taste her salty, sweet, intoxicating and she arched her back, her hands gripping daniela’s thighs as she pulled her closer.
daniela gasped, her hips jerking as y/n’s tongue found her clit, swirling around it in slow, torturous circles. “shit-” she moaned, her body trembling as she rode y/n’s face, her hips rolling in time with y/n’s tongue. “fuck, just like that”
she reached back, one hand tangling in y/n’s hair, pulling just enough to make her whimper as she ground down harder, her pussy dripping against y/n’s lips. “take it, baby. take every fucking drop.”
y/n moaned, her tongue working faster, her fingers digging into daniela’s thighs as she lapped at her, her own arousal dripping down her thighs as she arched her back, her hips rolling in time with daniela’s movements.
daniela’s breathing grew ragged, her thighs trembling as she rode y/n’s face, her moans filling the room as y/n’s tongue worked her closer and closer to the edge. “fuck yes yes yes!“ she gasped, her hips stuttering as she came, her pussy clenching around y/n’s tongue as she rode out her orgasm.
daniela let out a shuddering breath as the final waves of her orgasm subsided. she opened her eyes, looking down at y/n sprawled beneath her, face glistening with her wetness. a possessive growl rumbled in her throat as she sat back, straddling y/n's waist.
her hand shot out, wrapping around y/n's throat in a firm grip. y/n's breath caught, eyes widening slightly at the sudden intensity.
daniela leaned in, tongue flicking out to drag slowly across y/n's chin, licking up the remnants of her own juices. the taste sent a fresh surge of arousal straight to her core.
"look at you," she purred, voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "covered in me." she pressed closer, lips ghosting over y/n's as she tightened her grip on her throat just enough to make her squirm.
"you like that, don't you?" she murmured, grinding her hips down against y/n's. "knowing you belong to me?"
without warning, she crashed their lips together in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as she claimed y/n's mouth. y/n whimpered, hands grasping uselessly at daniela's back as she was thoroughly ravished.
when daniela finally pulled back, they were both panting. she stared down at y/n, eyes dark with possessiveness.
“you liked watching me get jealous all day, didn't you?" daniela hissed, her grip tightening around y/n's throat.
y/n's eyes went wide, her breath catching in her throat. "i-i didn't know baby i swear-“
“shut up." daniela cut her off, dragging y/n's hand between her own thighs. "these hands were on her all day. on her arm, on her waist, on her-“ she ground down against y/n's palm, a strangled moan escaping her lips.
"baby, it was for the wedding-" y/n tried to protest, only to be silenced by daniela pushing her fingers deeper.
“this is where your fucking hands should've been." daniela hissed, sinking down onto y/n's digits, her eyes falling shut as she rode them, her breathing ragged.
daniela's hips ground down harder, her pussy clenching rhythmically around y/n's fingers as she chased her release again.
"tell me you're mine," she demanded, her voice low and rough with need. she tightened her grip on y/n's throat, applying just enough pressure to make y/n gasp. "say it."
y/n's back arched, her mouth falling open in a breathless moan. "i’m yours, dani," she panted. "i’m yours, only yours..."
daniela's grip on y/n's throat tightened slightly as she let out a long, guttural moan. her hips jerked erratically, her pussy clamping down hard on y/n's fingers as she came again, shuddering and gasping above her. wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her, her nails digging into y/n's skin as she rode it out, her eyes locked onto y/n's the entire time.
she collapsed forward, bracing herself on her hands as she tried to catch her breath. her grip on y/n's throat loosened, her thumb brushing gently over the flushed skin in an almost soothing gesture.
"yeah you're mine, baby," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "you're the only person who gets to do this to me, ever." she pulled back, her gaze never leaving y/n's, as she pulled y/n's fingers out of her with a wet plop.
y/n's whimper was like music to her ears, and daniela's eyes flashed with excitement as she lifted y/n's fingers to her mouth, sucking them clean slowly, her eyes never leaving y/n's.
muffled sounds of pleasure and arousal escaped her lips as she savored the taste of herself on y/n's fingers, her eyes burning with intensity as she looked at y/n, who was now a whimpering mess.
"p-please mami..." y/n's plea was like a trigger, and daniela's eyes flashed with excitement as she pulled y/n's fingers out of her mouth, her lips curling into a possessive, hungry smile.
she leaned forward, her mouth inches from y/n's, her breath hot and heavy against y/n's skin "what do you want, baby?" she whispered, her voice dripping with desire. "what do you want me to do to you?"
y/n whimpered, hips bucking up needily against daniela. "touch me, please."
without a word, daniela moved quickly, flipping y/n over onto her stomach. she unzipped the champagne dress, peeling it slowly off y/n's body.
a groan escaped daniela's lips as she gazed upon y/n's bare ass. she raised one hand and brought it down in a firm slap, making y/n gasp. "look at you, so fucking wet," daniela growled.
she reached up, fingers tangling in y/n's hair and yanking her head back, arching y/n's back. "bet you were this wet all day, knowing you were getting me fucking jealous," she hissed.
y/n trembled beneath the firm grip, heart pounding. she was aching to be touched, craving daniela's possessive hands on her body. “i-i wasn’t trying to make you jealous”
daniela's grip on y/n's hips tightened, her fingers digging into the soft flesh as she yanked y/n's thong off, the sound of the fabric tearing echoing through the room. y/n's legs trembled, her feet splayed out to the sides as daniela's hand reached around, slipping under her body.
the angle was perfect, daniela's fingers sliding deep into y/n's pussy, the tips curling up to graze the sensitive spot just inside. y/n's body arched, her hips rolling up to meet daniela's hand, her clit grinding into the palm. the pressure was exquisite, the sensation of daniela's fingers moving inside her, coupled with the gentle rubbing of her clit, sent y/n's senses into overdrive.
"don't fucking lie to me," daniela's voice was low, husky, her words punctuated by the sound of her fingers moving in and out of y/n's pussy. "only i can make you this wet, isn't that right, baby?" y/n's response was a mere whimper, her body betraying her as she bucked up into daniela's hand.
the sound of daniela's fingers moving inside y/n was like music, the wet sounds of her pussy slick with arousal, echoing through the room. daniela's fingers sped up, her movements becoming more insistent, more demanding. y/n's moans grew louder, her body trembling as she approached the edge.
"that bitch couldn't make you feel this good, no one can," daniela's voice was a dark whisper, her words laced with a possessive intensity that sent shivers down y/n's spine. "this pussy is mine. you're mine. all of you is."
she leaned over y/n's body, her eyes dark with desire. her fingers moved relentlessly, pressing and curling inside y/n's wet heat. the rhythmic squelching sounds filled the room, punctuated by y/n's desperate whimpers and moans.
y/n's body was pinned beneath daniela's, her body pressing into y/n's back as she worked her fingers in and out, curling them to hit that sweet spot that had y/n writhing and clenching around her.
"feel good, mi amor?" daniela purred in y/n's ear, her voice low and dripping with arousal. she emphasized her words by pushing her fingers in harder and faster.
"you hear that?" daniela whispered, tugging y/n's hair back so she could see her flushed, blissed-out expression. "only i do that to you, baby. don't i?"
y/n was a whimpering, drooling mess beneath her, her hips grinding back desperately against daniela's hand.
“y-yes, mami," she whined, her voice high and needy.
daniela growled, her wrist beginning to ache from the relentless pace, but she didn't slow down. y/n was hers, and she was going to make sure she remembered that.
her fingers moved faster, her touch growing more insistent as she whispered in y/n's ear "yeah, you wanna cum, baby? you wanna cum all over my fingers?" her tongue darted out, tracing the shell of y/n's ear, making her shiver "you're so close, i can feel it. your pussy's clenching, trying to keep me inside." her breath was hot against y/n's skin, her words making y/n's arousal spike "let go, baby. let me feel you cum."
y/n's body tensed, her muscles locking up as her orgasm hit. daniela's fingers were still moving, still stroking her, but it was too much. y/n's pussy clenched, and she felt herself being pulled under, her vision blurring at the edges
“dani- fuck yes nnghh oh my god-“
daniela's mouth closed over y/n's neck, her teeth sinking in, marking her skin. y/n felt a rush of pain mixed with pleasure, her orgasm intensifying as daniela sucked and bit, leaving her skin throbbing and tender.
y/n's body arched off the bed, her hips thrusting, her pussy clenching around daniela's fingers. she was screaming, moaning, her voice echoing off the walls as daniela continued to suck and bite, leaving her skin marked and bruised.
daniela finally pulled back, her chest heaving, her eyes dark with desire. she gazed down at y/n, her expression possessive, her lips curled into a cruel smile.
"mine," she whispered, her voice low and rough. "you're mine."
daniela pulled her fingers out slowly, a satisfied smirk spreading across her lips as she brought her glistening fingers to her mouth. she licked them clean with a low hum, savoring the taste of y/n's arousal.
"mmm, you taste so good, baby," she purred, her dark eyes burning with desire.
y/n lay beneath her, trembling and spent, her pussy clenching around nothing. she tried to turn over, to face her girlfriend, but the other woman quickly moved, tangling her fingers in y/n's hair and pushing her back down.
"did i say i was done?" daniela's free hand drifted down, teasing y/n's now sensitive clit and making her hips jerk.
her grip on y/n's hair tightened, a silent command to stay put as she began to stroke y/n's clit in slow, torturous circles. y/n whimpered, her body arching into the touch, desperate for more.
"i'm not stopping until the only name that's in your pretty little head," daniela leaned in, her lips brushing y/n's ear
“is mine”
a/n : 👀 sooo what can i say im a sucker for jealous dani
containing :: both sfw & nsfw hcs ⸝⸝ fem!reader ⸝⸝ face riding ⸝⸝ fingering ⸝⸝ #need that asap
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… always comes to you with her injures after her match.
This time it was a rigid cut on her lip. You’re sat on the gym’s bathroom counter, varying medical supplies surrounding you. Manon is standing in between your legs, her hands planted on either side of the counter.
“Manon, you gotta be more careful.” You gently swiped over the cut, ridding it of blood.
Your hand is perfectly fit along her jaw, and the pain is light enough that she can completely focus on the warmth of your palm. She hums, “I’m sorry baby.”
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… has this special place she takes you after every match, win or lose. The food there is to die for, Manon swears up and down that the food is heavenly.
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… needs a kiss before any fight, she claims that you’re her lucky charm.
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… loves taking showers with you.
Steam all around you both. Her hands along your soapy, bare waist. You smile into the kiss, your arms wrapped around her neck, tasting the lip balm on her lips.
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… who curls her fingers just right. Hitting that sweet spot that has you on the verge of cumming.
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… has you planted on her face.
You’re gripping the headboard from the pleasure. Bottom lip caught between your teeth. Her lips are latched to you, sucking hard and rhythmically.
“Shit- you taste good,” she mutters against your clit.
𝜗𝜚 boxer!manon… leaves little marks and hickeys along your thighs for her eyes only.
we used to love each other
manon bannerman x fem reader
Summary: Manon met the reader a long time ago, and they were in the same friend group since high school. Then manon became a popstar, yet the reader was still there for manon at her lowest until manon completely shut her out and everything faded out to the point manon couldn't be in group hang outs anymore
we used to love each other
manon bannerman x fem reader
Summary: Manon met the reader a long time ago, and they were in the same friend group since high school. Then manon became a popstar, yet the reader was still there for manon at her lowest until manon completely shut her out and everything faded out to the point manon couldn't be in group hang outs anymore
chapter 1- my name is a slur?!
a/n: bringing out yearning manon instead of yearning reader makes it messier
the summer of 26’ when your parents moved you from a small town in dallas to the american riviera: santa barbara, california. the middle of summer is the hardest time to make friends, but what happens when a group adopts you at the beach? many friendships form, but there’s one girl that sticks out: megan skiendiel.
“megan,” daniela said before snatching her phone, “what the fuck are you doing?”
daniela scanned her phone, looking through thousands of y/ns on instagram.
“are you seriously trying to find her insta? it’s been two weeks.”
“well, i have found that she is not from california. i’ve searched the whole state- and it dawned on me that she had a slight accent,” megan said while taking the phone back, “so now im searching alabama, then after i’ll go texas.”
“she did say she wasn’t from around here,” sophia added as she walked into the room with manon and lara.
“megan.. are you forgetting that i’m from atlanta? meaning id know accents better than you?” daniela said with a laugh.
“i wanna find her myself!” megan whined, “it’s not gonna be as awarding if you find her.”
“suit yourself.” daniela said before jumping on megan’s bed and laying right next to yoonchae.
the room was quite for once, and megan was completely focused. nothing could break her concentration, not even-
“found her.” lara announced as she leaned against the door.
“WHAT!” megan said, immediately jumping up.
“calm down, it took me literally two seconds. she’s from dallas, texas.” she said while giving megan the phone.
“no fucking way.”
“let me see!” manon said as she took the phone.
“bitch no! i call dibs,” megan said while taking it back.
“i want. to fucking. see.” manon said as she tugged on the phone, starting a game of tug-a-war.
“manon! give it!”
“i wanna see if she’s good enough!”
“clearly she is! drop it!”
they fought for another minute, keeping the girls entertained, before sophia stood up. “girls.”
the two girls stood up straight, still holding different ends of the phone.
“search her up on your own phones and give lara back hers, now.”
manon sighed before dropping the phone. megan handed it over to lara with an eyeroll, but little did she know their fight caused the follow button to be pressed.
“MEGAN!” lara screamed, “i’m gonna look like a fucking fan!”
-
new notification: @.lararaj started following you.
you quickly clicked on the notification, recognizing the name.
“thats the girl from the beach..” you said out loud, not expecting anyone to hear you.
tucker did. he came running up to you and peaking over at your phone, “are you finally gonna make a friend?”
“asshole,” you said lightly shoving him off before he sat next to you.
“i liked the megan girl,” tucker started, “she helped with my sandcastle after she ate it.”
“i liked her too..” you said while scrolling through lara’s instagram.
there was many pictures of that group. photos of megan in a shopping cart, daniela doing karaoke, sophia and yoonchae sitting at the beach, and manon smoking with lara.
they all looked close, too close.
close in a way that you’d never be able to join them.
“i liked that girl, too,” he said as he pointed at sophia.
“she was sweet, wasn’t she?”
“yeah! i think you should hang out with them again.”
“mm buddy i don’t think that will work,” you said with a slight frown.
“i can come!” he said jumping with a smile.
“how about you find them and hang out with them, then?” you said jokingly before standing up, “then i’ll think about it.”
“atleast follow her back,” he said as his little finger tried pressing the button.
“okay! okay!” you said before following her back, “there. i did it.”
-
new notification: @y/n.l/n followed you back.
lara let out a long, loud laugh before she shoved the phone in megan’s face. “take that, megs.”
“what! why would she follow you back?” she said taking the phone.
“because i’m cool? and not the girl who ate shit right infront of her and still tried to hit on her?”
“fair.” she said scrolling through your posts, looking lost in them.
“are you guys still talking about that y/n girl?” yoonchae said while sitting up, “she was just a normal girl.”
“a normal girl is hard for us to come by, chae,” lara said while having her eyebrows raised at megan, “especially for her.”
“i liked her,” sophia said with a smile, “her brother, too.”
“always known there was something wrong with you,” manon said to sophia, “of course you like them younger.”
“that’s not funny.”
“it kinda was.”
“no it wa-”
“GUYS!” megan screamed while shooting up, “SHE PLAYS VALORENT!”
“what?” all the girls said, confused.
“SHES ACTUALLY A WIERD GIRL. OH MY GOD I NEED TO FOLLOW HER ON MY ACCOUNT!”
megan scrambled for her phone, shaking while she unlocked it. “I HAVE A CHANCE! I HAVE A CHANCE!”
“megan..” lara said while looking at the photo.
“IM NOT CRAZY! ITS IN THE BACKGROUND!”
“baby..” lara said before putting a hand on her shoulder, “there’s a man playing it.”
megan dropped the phone slowly and looked back at lara. “oh.”
all the girls looked at eachother, before manon spoke up, “maybe this is why we shouldn’t fall for someone you don’t know. so now we know she has a boyfriend and is not gay.”
“sorry megs,” sophia said with a pout.
“well.. i have an idea,” daniela said as she walked closer, “how about we go get icecream, huh?”
“why,” megan said with a huff.
“it’ll make you feel better?” daniela said with a confused look, “sorry i’m not used to this comforting thing.”
“that’s a good idea, dan. get up megan,” lara said while pulling her up.
-
the second they walked in they all froze.
there you were, getting a milkshake and talking to the worker.
“i just moved here, so id love to come!” you said with a smile after the worker invited you to a get-together.
megan felt her cheeks heating up. was it jealously? rage? or is it just that you looked really good in yellow..?
but, her feet moved before her brain, and suddenly she was standing in front of you.
“oh.. megan? hi?” you said confused as you took a sip.
megan didn’t answer you, she just stood there.
the girls noticed this and tried to help, but there was no saving this.
“um,” she said quietly, “hi.”
“it’s been a minute..” you said awkwardly as the worker you were talking to left.
“yeah.”
everyone went quite and you looked over at the group of girls who were smiling at you.
“do you need something?” you said to megan, who was still standing there.
“do you have a boyfriend?”
“oh!” you said as your eyes widened, “no. i do not.”
she slowly looked over at lara, who just shrugged and ordered her icecream.
“how about you hang out with us instead of that worker?”
a/n -
hellooo readers!!
i am so sorry that this chapter is so short, but the next one should make up for it (i hope)
this is def just a filler chapter before y/n starts hanging out with the kats
i originally did say that i was gonna have chapters out weekly, but if you guys want them quicker i can do that!!
and as always if you have ideas you want me to add or requests for anything lmk!!
⸻ just a thought; g!p daniela, toxic, degradation, dubcon, established relationships. 1k words.
thinking about toxic! dani who loves and hates you at the very same time… in her defense, she never thought she would actually have a long term commitment with you, a true relationship, she had her morals and her convictions and one of them was that she would never date a slut. c’mon, everyone knows what that means, she didn’t need to be with a super religious virgin girl but she wouldn’t go for someone who had slept with everybody.
well, you hadn’t slept with everyone technically but you had your little fame in L.A and you were definitely not even close to being a virgin. daniela didn’t mind it for the night, you were hot and way too easy for your own good, she wanted to hit it for a night or two and call the shots… but she fell in love with you. she really felt like an idiot and she hated herself for it, but the morning after you guys had slept together she couldn’t stop thinking how beautiful you were when you smiled and the sweet sound of your laughter.
she fell completely in love with you for all the dumb fucking reasons people fall in love with each other.
well, weeks later, you guys were dating. it was weird to you, daniela seemed hesitant and avoidant to date you at the very same time. it was weird to her too, because she really had fallen in love with a girl who had slept with half the town, to the point where you both couldn’t hit a club downtown without having to see at least one of your past hookups, it was so fucking annoying and irritating to her, infuriating even.
sooner enough she started to get a little paranoid, if you met anyone on street and said a quick hi, she would be questioning you a thousand times asking if you had or not something with this person, be it your highschool classmate or your dentist, she really had no filter for this and you had the impression that she hardly ever believed you when you told her that no, you hadn’t had anything with this random person that used to be your kindergarten friend.
daniela hated it, she was never insecure about that in her past relationships, she didn’t had this type of energy to be so jealous, she didn’t mind if her partner had partners before, but with you… she knew your fame, she heard all about it, how easy you were, how many you had, she hated that she had fallen in love with someone like you. she hated you, but she loved you. she hated you cuz she loved you.
so it made her crazy, and it made you crazy because you noticed how you were dating someone who happened to love and hate you at the same time.
this often happened to be more apparent in bed.
daniela wasn’t exactly rough at the start, she fucked you good, hard and fast when you wanted it, but not quite violently… until the first time a thought occurred to her when you were naked under her, taking her whole dick deep. how could you give yourself to her like this and act so sweetly when you had let anyone have you in the past? god, you didn’t had to save yourself just for her but if you hadn’t respected your pretty body enough to not let any fucker have it, she didn’t had to respect it either.
you were caught by surprise when her hips moved way too fast, way too hard, your moans mixed between pain and pleasure and when you told her to slow down a little she wrapped her hand around your throat.
“what? isn’t that the way sluts like you like it? i know it is, shut up and take it, bitch.”
that was the very first time she was rougher with you… you weren’t exactly complaining, i mean, it was hot in a way, but sometimes you thought she would go too far on it, like those times when she was convinced you were free use, doesn’t matter if you’re doing any task of the day, sometimes you were sat up studying and she would come to you unbuckling her belt, light, almost degrading slaps on your face so you would look up to her as she demanded you to suck her off and make her cum. you didn’t know exactly what the hell was that about but you hardly would deny her, so you would end up with your throat filled with cock while she used your mouth, telling you how much of an easy whore you were.
“you like having cock in your mouth, don’t you? hm? you’re such a fucking slut, just like that.”
and when she finished inside your mouth, leaving with a sore throat and bittersweet taste of her cum on your tongue, she would just tuck herself back in her pants and give you a kiss on the cheek and a “thanks babe”, nothing more. literally nothing more.
daniela could be the sweetest and tendest girlfriend ever in a minute and then act so cold and annoyed at the very next moment, it was always a surprise. but you learned how to prevent that and at least lower down her chances to have thoughts about your past in random moments, sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t.
when it worked, though, it was amazing. sometimes you would be riding her cock while kissing her, her tip hitting your cervix and her hands softly holding on your waist while you whispered against her lips how she was the best you’ve ever had, how no one could even compare to her, her touch, her lips, her body, her cock… how in love and obsessed you were with all of that. daniela wasn’t that bad, she recognized your efforts to keep her happy and at those times, she would just caress your thighs and kiss your collarbone gently, whispering she loved you so, so much. you knew she was telling the truth.
well, perhaps one day daniela will be consumed entirely by her hate and finally break up with you, perhaps she will get older and more mature and realize that your past doesn’t matter cuz you loved her with your whole heart, perhaps it will be always this way, who knows? maybe, just maybe, you guys will make it work.
The echo of your footsteps resonated in the empty hallway as you walked toward the locker room. Practice was over, but you hadn't waited for anyone. You didn't want to see Manon, didn't want to see anyone. You wanted to disappear, even if just for a few minutes, and pretend none of this had happened.
But you couldn't escape everything.
"Y/n!" Adela's voice came from behind, followed by the sound of her hurried footsteps on the floor. "Wait."
You quickened your pace, but she was faster. She caught up with you just as you reached the locker room door, and grabbed your arm with a firmness you knew too well. Her fingers closed around your wrist — a gesture that used to be natural between you, but now provoked a fury you didn't know how to process.
"What?" you asked, turning around with a tense face, arms crossed over your chest, pulling your arm away from her grip with a sharp motion.
Adela let go of your arm, but she didn't step back. She stood in front of you, arms also crossed and an expression that was hard to read. Concern, maybe, or frustration. It was always hard to tell with Adela. She had that way of looking at you that made you feel exposed, as if she could see through all the layers you'd built around yourself.
"Calm down," she said, her voice low but firm. "You're being too hard on her."
"On who?" you asked, though you knew perfectly well the answer.
"On Manon. She didn't do anything to you. She just offered you help. I don't understand why you have to treat her like that."
"I don't need her help."
Adela let out a sigh — that sigh she let out when you were being stubborn and you knew it. It was a sound you knew well, and it always managed to get under your skin because it meant she thought you were wrong.
"Y/n, you saw her. She reached out her hand to you, and you ignored her like she didn't exist. She's just a teammate trying to be nice, trying to fit in."
"Nice?" you repeated, your voice rising a tone, feeling the rage starting to boil in your chest. "That's what you think? That she's just being nice?"
"What else would it be?" Adela tilted her head, confused, her eyes searching yours. "What do you think she's doing?"
You didn't answer. You couldn't. Because if you said what you really thought, if you admitted that you saw Manon as a threat, as someone who had come to take everything from you, you'd sound paranoid. Or worse, you'd sound insecure.
"It's okay," Adela said, interpreting your silence as a surrender, though her eyes showed she wasn't entirely convinced. "It's okay not to want to be her best friend. But you can't treat her like that. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to the team."
"The team?" you repeated, and this time your voice was sharper, more cutting. "Now you're going to talk to me about the team?"
"Someone has to. Because you're not seeing past your pride."
"It's not pride," you said, but your voice sounded less sure than you'd intended, and you hated it.
"Then what is it?" Adela stepped forward, her voice dropping to almost a whisper. "But something's going on with you. I know you, and I know when something's eating you up inside."
You wanted to deny it. But the words wouldn't come. They got stuck in your throat, and all you could do was stand there, arms crossed, jaw tight, heart pounding.
Adela looked at you for a moment longer. Beyond everything, her eyes looked at you with concern.
She took your hand.
"Baby, calm down," she said, her voice soft — that same tone that a few months ago would have completely disarmed you, but not now.
But that word, that damn word, was the spark that ignited everything.
"Don't call me 'baby,'" you replied, your voice a whip, pulling your hand away from hers with a sharp tug, as if her touch burned you. "You don't have the right to call me that. Not after everything."
Adela didn't step back. On the contrary, she took another step forward, closing the distance between you until you could almost feel her warmth.
"Come on, Y/n," she said. "Don't act like this. We can get past this. We can't let what happened destroy us."
A bitter laugh escaped your lips.
"Get past this?" you repeated, your voice venomous. "Easy to say when you weren't the one who saw me kissing some random guy in a bar."
Adela clenched her jaw, and her eyes turned cold.
"You were the one who pushed me away, Y/n. You told me you needed time. You asked for space. And I gave it to you. I stepped back like you asked."
"I asked for time, Adela," you replied, your voice trembling with rage. "Time. I didn't ask you to go find someone else the next day."
"It wasn't the next day," Adela shook her head, her voice rising a tone. "Weeks passed, Y/n. Weeks where you didn't call me, didn't look for me, didn't send me a single message. Weeks where you disappeared and left me with the uncertainty of whether you were coming back or not."
"That doesn't give you the right to kiss someone else."
"I know," Adela took another step, and now you were so close you could see the gleam in her eyes, the tension in her jaw. "I know. And it wasn't my finest moment. I was hurt, Y/n. I did it out of stupidity, because I didn't know how to handle the pain."
Those words hit you, but they weren't enough to put out the rage.
"I would never have done that to you," you said, your voice barely a whisper, but loaded with everything you hadn't said. "Never. No matter how hurt I was, no matter how much it hurt, I would never have gone looking for someone else to fill that void. Because to me, what we had was worth more than that."
Adela opened her mouth to respond, and for a moment, the air between you crackled with electricity. She was about to say something.
But at that moment, the locker room door opened.
Manon walked in and stopped short when she saw the scene. You, with trembling hands, your face flushed with rage. Adela, inches from you, jaw tight. The tension between the two of you was so palpable it could almost be cut with a knife.
Manon blinked, her gaze traveling between the two of you, silently processing the scene. She didn't say anything, but it was clear she'd caught the tension, that she understood she was interrupting something important.
"…Everything okay?" she asked, her voice cautious.
You didn't answer. You couldn't. You were too close to the edge, too close to exploding. So you did the only thing you could: you shot a glare at both of them.
And without a word, you walked out of the locker room, leaving the two of them behind with the echo of your slammed door resonating in the silence.
Adela stared at the door for a moment, then let out a long sigh, running a hand through her hair with a tired gesture. When she turned to Manon, her smile was forced — a mask that fooled no one.
"Yeah, everything's fine," she said, shrugging. "Just… Y/n and her temper. You know how it is."
Manon frowned. Her gaze lingered on the door you'd gone through, then returned to Adela. Something in the way Adela had said your name, with that mix of affection and weariness, didn't go unnoticed.
"I think she hates me," Manon confessed, letting out a humorless laugh.
"Y/n is… complicated. She always has been. She just needs time. And a lot of patience."
Manon studied her for a moment. Her dark eyes were perceptive, and something in the way Adela spoke about you made her raise an eyebrow.
"Are you two… something?" she asked, her tone neutral, curious.
Adela smiled. "Yeah… something like that. It's complicated. Y/n is complicated. She always has been."
Manon nodded slowly, processing the information. She didn't say anything more. She just stood there, in the empty locker room, with the image of your angry face etched in her memory and Adela's words echoing in her head.
can u make a megan oneshot where she is hella clingy and very sick and is basically attached to r like glue basically puppy megan
velcro - megan skiendiel x reader
synopsis - megan’s convinced she’s fine. her rising fever and the fact she refuses to let go of you for an entire day says otherwise.
~~~~~
you weren’t sure what had woken you. for a moment, your eyes stayed shut, waiting for sleep to pull you back under. then you felt it.
heat.
an almost uncomfortable warmth pressed against your side. your brows pinched together as you blinked into the darkness, the room only faintly lit by the glow leaking through the gap in the curtains. it took a second for your eyes to adjust before the shape curled against you came into focus.
megan.
at some point during the night she’d moved completely across the bed, abandoning her own pillow entirely.
one arm was lazily draped over your waist, her cheek squashed against your shoulder, dark hair spilling over both of you in messy strands. the pale pink streaks framing her face had long since escaped wherever she’d tucked them before bed, falling across flushed cheeks and brushing against your neck every time she breathed.
she looked… exhausted, not asleep in the peaceful way she usually was. her lips were slightly parted as she breathed through her mouth, every inhale sounding heavier than it should have. wisps of hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, and even in the dim light you could make out the faint redness dusting the bridge of her nose.
carefully, trying not to wake her, you brushed the loose strands back. the second your fingers touched her forehead, your stomach dropped.
she was burning “…mei?” nothing.
just a quiet, sleepy hum as she instinctively leaned further into your touch. you rested the back of your hand against her forehead again, hoping you’d imagined it but you hadn’t.
“megan.” this time she stirred, eyebrows knitting together before one eye cracked open.
“…mm?” her voice came out rough, thick with sleep, the single syllable dissolving into a congested sniffle.
“you’ve got a fever.”
she frowned as though you’d accused her of something ridiculous. “…no, i don’t.”
a tiny cough interrupted her before she could finish the sentence. she let out a quiet groan, burying her face against your shoulder like that somehow ended the conversation.
“i’m fine…” the words were almost completely muffled by your t-shirt.
you looked down at the girl practically folded into your side, her breathing already evening out again despite insisting she was awake.
you stayed where you were. there wasn’t much else you could do.
the coolness of your palm remained against megan’s forehead while the rest of your hand disappeared into the soft strands of dark hair fanned across the pillow. every few moments your fingers would brush the pink pieces framing her face back behind her ear, only for them to slip loose again as she shifted.
she really was burning. you’d never felt her skin this warm before. her breathing came through slow but heavier than normal, every inhale catching slightly against the congestion before leaving in a soft sigh through parted lips.
every now and then she’d wrinkle her nose in her sleep, letting out a quiet sniffle before instinctively pressing herself even closer to you.
she’d always been affectionate. normally she’d end up on your side of the bed at some point during the night anyway, tangled around you without either of you remembering when it’d happened.
tonight felt different as if she wasn’t just close because she wanted to be. she was looking for comfort without even knowing it.
your thumb brushed absentmindedly across her temple. she hummed quietly, barely awake, her forehead unconsciously nudging into your hand before settling again.
the corners of your mouth softened. for another ten minutes, maybe longer, you simply lay there.
watching and listening. every so often checking her forehead again, almost hoping it’d somehow cooled.
it hadn’t and if anything, she felt warmer.
her breathing finally evened into something deeper, the little furrow between her brows smoothing away as sleep pulled her under properly this time.
only then did you consider moving, very carefully. you started with the arm trapped beneath her shoulders, easing it free an inch at a time.
megan frowned and you froze. a sleepy sigh escaped her as she buried her face further into your pillow, replacing you with the duvet she’d instinctively pulled closer.
you waited another few seconds. when she didn’t stir again, you slowly slipped out from underneath her.
the mattress shifted beneath your weight. another pause. you quietly tucked the edge of the blanket back around her shoulders before standing.
the floorboards were cool beneath your feet as you padded into the hallway, careful to avoid the spots you already knew creaked.
the apartment was dark, illuminated only by the faint blue glow of the microwave clock.
3:34 a.m.
the kitchen light stayed off. instead, you opened the cupboard by memory, fingertips brushing over boxes of tea before finding the small plastic container tucked behind them.
the thermometer.
next came the medicine drawer.
paracetamol or ibuprofen?
you hesitated for a second before taking the paracetamol instead, setting two tablets beside the thermometer. she’d need to eat something before taking anything stronger.
the tap squeaked quietly as you turned it the smallest amount. cold water streamed over a clean face cloth, the sound seeming impossibly loud in the otherwise silent apartment.
you squeezed the excess water out until it was damp instead of dripping, folding it neatly into a rectangle the way your mother used to whenever someone was ill.
lastly, you filled a glass halfway with water. just enough that she’d actually drink it without having to force herself.
the bedroom door clicked softly behind you as you nudged it open with your shoulder.
the glass of water trembled ever so slightly against the thermometer in your hand, careful not to spill as you crossed back to the bed.
megan was still curled into the dip you’d left behind, the duvet gathered beneath her chin, one arm stretched lazily across your side of the mattress. her face was almost hidden by the pillow now, dark hair spilling over it in tangled waves, the faded pink pieces brushing against her flushed cheeks.
you set everything down on the bedside table one piece at a time: the thermometer, the folded cloth, the water, two tablets pushed carefully from their foil packet.
the mattress dipped beneath your weight as you settled beside her again.
you brushed your knuckles lightly across her cheek.
“baby.”
her breathing stayed deep and slow.
“…mei.”
a little hum vibrated in the back of her throat. her brows pulled together before her eyes blinked open, unfocused at first, taking a second to find you sitting beside her.
“there you are…” her voice was barely more than a whisper, rough from sleep and thick with congestion.
“i’m right here.”
she looked at you for another second before lifting one hand towards you without thinking.
you slipped your fingers through hers, smiling when you felt the tension leave her shoulders almost immediately.
you squeezed her hand gently before reaching for the cloth beside you.
“i’m just gonna put this on your forehead, okay?”
she gave the smallest nod. the cool fabric touched her skin and she let out a quiet breath, her face softening almost immediately.
“…that feels nice.”
for a while neither of you spoke. you simply sat there, your thumb absentmindedly tracing over the back of her hand while she rested with her eyes closed.
her skin was still far too warm. when you lifted the thermometer from the bedside table, she noticed the movement.
“…do i have to?”
“you do.”
a tiny sigh. she opened her mouth just enough for you to slide it beneath her tongue before letting her head tip against your shoulder.
outside, dawn was beginning to soften the sky beyond the curtains, though the room remained dim enough that the bedside lamp cast most of the light.
the thermometer beeped.
you frowned at the number, still high and higher than you’d hoped. you set it back down before reaching for the glass.
“come on, baby.” you slipped an arm behind her back “let’s get you sitting up.”
she tried, but halfway there she paused, closing her eyes “…everything’s spinning.”
“i know.” you kept an arm around her until the dizziness passed, letting her lean as much of her weight against you as she needed.
once she’d settled, you held the glass out.
“just a little.”
she took two careful sips before making a face “my throat hurts.”
“i know.”
another sip.
“good.” you placed the tablets into her palm. she stared at them for a second before swallowing them without complaint, chasing them with the last mouthful of water.
the effort alone seemed to tire her out. she rested her forehead against your shoulder, eyes falling shut again.
you could feel the warmth radiating from her even through your t-shirt. quietly, you rubbed your hand up and down her back “meg?”
“hm?”
“i think you need to stay home today.”
she was silent for a moment, then she shook her head against your shoulder“we’ve got rehearsals.”
“i know.”
“we’re only a couple weeks out from olivia’s festival.” her words came slowly, each sentence separated by a small pause while she gathered enough breath “i really shouldn’t…”
a cough caught her off guard. she turned instinctively into your shoulder, coughing into the sleeve of her shirt.
it lingered long enough that you found yourself rubbing slow circles between her shoulder blades until it eased.
when she finally looked back up, her eyes were glossy “i’m okay,” she tried again, her voice little more than a rasp.
another cough interrupted her before she’d even finished the sentence. you waited until it passed, then tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“babe.” she looked at you “olivia rodrigo can wait.”
a tiny crease appeared between her brows.
“so can rehearsal.”
she opened her mouth to answer, but you gently shook your head “you’re exhausted.”
“you’ve got a fever.”
“and right now,” you murmured, brushing your thumb lightly across her flushed cheek, “i’d rather have you asleep in bed than pushing yourself because you feel guilty.”
for a long time, she didn’t say anything. she just looked at you. then, almost reluctantly, her shoulders sank.
“…will you text the group?”
“of course.”
“they’re gonna tell me off.”
a small smile found your lips “no.” you brushed another kiss against her forehead. “they’re probably going to tell you exactly what i’m telling you.”
her head found its way back onto your shoulder before either of you spoke again.
~~~~~
by the time morning properly settled over the apartment, very little had changed.
the fever had never really broken. it had dipped enough during the early hours that you’d managed another couple of hours of sleep, curled around megan with one hand absentmindedly checking her forehead every time either of you stirred.
you waited until her breathing slipped back into a deep, even rhythm before easing yourself out of bed again.
this time she barely moved. just a sleepy sound in the back of her throat before instinctively curling around your pillow instead.
you smiled to yourself, pulling the duvet a little higher over her shoulder.
“i’ll be right back,” you whispered, even though you knew she was asleep.
soft sunlight filtered through the kitchen windows, catching against the wooden countertops while the kettle hummed quietly in the background.
you kept breakfast simple. a small saucepan of oats bubbled gently on the stove, filling the kitchen with the faint smell of cinnamon and honey. you sliced half a banana into thin rounds, setting them to one side before reaching for a mug.
hot water with lemon and honey for megan, hoping it’d soothe her throat a little.
the house stayed quiet. you found yourself glancing towards the staircase every few minutes without really meaning to.
she’d usually have wandered down by now, music already playing from her phone while she danced around the kitchen waiting for breakfast.
just as you reached to stir the oats again, a floorboard creaked upstairs. you looked up and a few slow footsteps followed.
when megan finally appeared at the top of the stairs, your heart sank a little. she looked exhausted.
your oversized shirt hung loosely from her frame, the sleeves swallowing most of her hands while the hem fell to the tops of her thighs. one side had slipped from her shoulder sometime during the night, exposing warm skin still flushed from the fever.
her hair was a mess. dark waves fell in every direction and a few strands stuck lightly against her forehead where she’d been sweating overnight.
she paused halfway down the stairs, blinking slowly as though she’d forgotten why she’d gotten up in the first place.
“morning,” you said softly.
she looked over and the second she saw you, something in her expression eased.
“morning.” her voice was even rougher than it had been a few hours earlier.
she reached the bottom step without taking her eyes off you.
“you should’ve stayed in bed.”
“mhm.” she wandered into the kitchen at an almost sleepy shuffle, one hand rubbing at her eye before stopping beside you.
for a second she simply stood there, looking at the saucepan on the stove. then, without saying anything, she stepped closer.
her forehead rested lightly against the back of your shoulder.
you smiled to yourself “hi, baby.”
a tiny hum answered you. her hands found the sides of your shirt, fingers curling loosely into the fabric as she leaned just a little more of her weight against you.
you didn’t comment, just kept slowly stirring the oats with one hand while the other reached back to rest over hers.
“you okay?”
another little hum “…tired.”
“i know.”
“my head hurts.”
“i know.”
“my throat hurts.”
“i know.”
she was quiet for another moment “so does everything else.”
you let out the smallest laugh, turning the heat down before twisting slightly to look at her. she hadn’t lifted her head, her eyes were closed.
“you feeling dizzy?”
“a little.”
“you wanna sit down?”
she shook her head against your shoulder “no.”
“no?”
“wanna stay here.” there wasn’t any whining in her voice, just a simple sleepy admission.
you brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of her neck “okay.”
the kitchen settled into silence again. the only sounds were the gentle bubbling from the saucepan and the occasional sniffle from where megan stood tucked against your back.
every now and then she’d shift a fraction closer, as though trying to steal whatever warmth you had despite running a fever herself.
the oats were finished before either of you moved. you turned the hob off carefully “baby.”
“mhm?”
“i need to plate this up.”
a small pause, then she opened her eyes, looked down at where she was practically attached to your side, and gave the faintest sheepish smile.
“…sorry.”
“you’ve got nothing to apologise for.”
she nodded once.
“can i still come with you?”
~~~~~
the rest of the day settled into an unexpectedly slow rhythm.
the apartment, usually filled with music or rehearsal videos playing somewhere in the background, stayed almost completely quiet. the television murmured softly from the living room, more for company than because either of you were paying much attention to it.
after breakfast, megan insisted she felt well enough to shower.
“you don’t have to help me,” she’d mumbled, already making her way upstairs.
you let her partly because you knew she valued doing things herself and partly because you didn’t want her to feel like you were hovering.
she made it as far as the bathroom. the shower ran for barely ten minutes before you heard the door open again.
you looked up from your phone just as she appeared in the hallway, damp hair dripping onto the oversized shirt she’d changed back into.
“hey.”
she offered you a tired smile “hi.”
“you alright?”
“mhm.” she took another step then stopped “actually…” her hand found the wall beside her “i think i stood up too fast.”
you were beside her before she’d even finished speaking. one arm slipped around her waist automatically. she let out a quiet breath as some of her weight rested against you.
“easy.”
“i’m okay.” it was the same answer she’d been giving you since three that morning, only this time it sounded less convincing.
you waited until the dizziness passed before walking her back downstairs, one hand resting lightly against the middle of her back.
she didn’t pull away, but normally she’d probably laugh, tell you she wasn’t ninety years old. today she simply accepted it.
~~~~~
by lunchtime, her temperature had finally started to come down. enough that her cheeks weren’t quite as flushed and that she wasn’t shivering anymore but every bit of progress seemed to come with another wave of exhaustion.
you found her standing in front of the fridge a while later. the door was open and she was just… looking inside.
“what’re we thinking?” you asked.
she blinked at the shelves “…i forgot.”
“what?”
“what i came in here for.”
you smiled gently “probably water.”
“…yeah.” a beat “…actually maybe i wanted juice.”
you reached past her, grabbing both “we’ll take both.” she laughed quietly through her nose “i don’t know what’s wrong with my brain.”
“it’s called having the flu.”
“i don’t like it.”
as you closed the fridge door, you felt something brush against your arm. megan had drifted closer, you handed her the juice and she leaned there while she drank it.
~~~~~
it wasn’t until mid-afternoon that you noticed it. every time you stood up… so did she.
“i’m just putting these in the dishwasher,” you said as you collected the mugs from the coffee table.
“mhm.”
you walked into the kitchen and a few seconds later you heard quiet footsteps. you glanced over your shoulder and she was, blanket trailing behind her “what?”
she looked genuinely confused “what?”
“you followed me.”
“i…” she frowned and looked around the kitchen as though she’d only just realised she was there. a soft laugh escaped her “..oops.”
“what happened to watching your film?”
“i thought you were gone.”
“i told you i was putting mugs away.”
“i know.” she rubbed at one eye “i forgot.”
you walked over, brushing a few strands of hair back from her face “you don’t have to keep getting up every time i move.”
“i wasn’t trying to.” she looked down for a second before meeting your eyes again.
“i just…” her voice was quieter now “i like knowing where you are.”
you rested your palm against her warm cheek “i’m not going anywhere, baby.”
“i know.” she smiled “i still wanna be where you are.”
something about the way she said it made your chest tighten. you leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“then come here.”
she stepped forward immediately, resting her forehead against your shoulder with a tired sigh.
outside, rain had started tapping softly against the kitchen window and standing there, arms loosely wrapped around one another in the middle of the kitchen, it occurred to you that this was the first time all day megan had stopped insisting she was fine.
~~~~~
by late afternoon, the rain had settled into a steady rhythm against the windows. the television had long since slipped into the background, neither of you paying much attention to whatever was playing.
megan had fallen asleep sometime during the second episode.
one minute she’d been commenting on something happening on screen, her voice hoarse enough that every sentence ended in a cough or a sniffle.
now she was curled against you beneath the throw blanket, one leg tucked over yours, her cheek resting just beneath your collarbone.
the warmth radiating from her hadn’t disappeared entirely, though when you pressed your lips lightly to the top of her head she didn’t feel quite as hot as she had that morning.
your fingers continued their lazy path through her hair, carefully separating the tangled strands that had dried into soft waves after her shower.
she shifted in her sleep just enough to tuck herself impossibly closer.
you glanced towards the clock on the wall, almost time for another dose. carefully, you reached for your phone to double-check when she’d last taken the paracetamol.
you looked back down at the girl sleeping on your chest “baby.”
a quiet hum.
“i’ve just gotta grab your medicine.”
you waited another minute before trying to move. very slowly, you slid your arm from around her shoulders.
almost immediately she stirred. her brows pinched together before her eyes blinked open, unfocused and heavy with sleep “…mm?”
“i’m just getting your medicine.” you smiled, brushing your thumb gently across her cheek “i’ll be right back.”
she watched you for a second, still trying to wake up enough to process what you’d said.
then, as you shifted forward to stand, her hand found the sleeve of your hoodie. her fingers curled into the fabric.
you looked down “mei?”
she swallowed and her voice came out so quiet you almost missed it “…don’t.”
your expression softened immediately “i’ll only be a minute.”
a tiny shake of her head “no…”
she looked genuinely distressed now, still foggy from sleep and fever, her eyes beginning to glisten in a way that made your chest tighten “please.”
“i just…” her grip on your sleeve tightened a fraction “please stay.”
you sat back down without another thought “hey.” your hand was on her cheek again before she’d even settled “hey, hey… it’s okay.”
the second you were beside her again, some of the tension left her shoulders. she let out a shaky breath she’d clearly been holding.
“i’m right here.”
she blinked hard a couple of times, embarrassed now that she was properly awake “…sorry.”
her voice cracked around the words, rough from hours of coughing “i just…” she sniffed quietly, rubbing at her nose with the sleeve hanging over her hand “i woke up and you weren’t…”
she trailed off, unable to find the words, you didn’t ask her to. instead, you opened your arms a little and she came willingly.
the moment she settled against you, her forehead found its familiar place beneath your jaw, resting against your collarbone.
even after a day of medicine, her skin still held the lingering warmth of the fever. you wrapped the blanket back around both of you before rubbing slow circles across her back.
she stayed tucked against you for another minute, her breathing gradually slowing back to normal as your hand continued moving gently up and down her back.
eventually she tilted her head just enough to look up at you “you’re really just getting my medicine?”
a smile tugged at your lips “that’s all.”
“…promise?”
“i promise.”
she studied your face as though making absolutely sure that was it then, finally, her fingers loosened from your sleeve “okay.”
you brushed a kiss against her warm forehead.
~~~~
by the time evening settled over the apartment, the rain had stopped. megan had spent most of the afternoon drifting in and out of sleep.
her fever was lower now, not gone but manageable. enough that the colour had eased from her cheeks, though every now and then you’d still catch her rubbing absently at her temples when another headache settled in.
you’d made another pot of soup while she’d dozed. chicken broth, soft vegetables and tiny pasta.
just something warm and she’d hopefully keep down. “…dinner,” you murmured as you carried the bowl into the living room. megan looked up from beneath the blanket she’d cocooned herself inside.
her eyes were still heavy with sleep and she sniffled quietly “you made soup.”
“i did.”
“it smells good” she smiled faintly.
you settled onto the sofa, balancing the bowl carefully on the coffee table while it cooled. megan watched you for a second, then she quietly pushed the blanket away.
“what’re you doing?” you asked.
instead of answering, she climbed onto the sofa. one knee first, then the other, before carefully lowering herself sideways into your lap.
you laughed under your breath “comfortable?”
she nodded immediately “mhm.” one arm slipped around your waist while she tucked her face into the side of your neck, letting out a long, tired sigh.
you rubbed a slow hand up and down her back “i thought you wanted soup.”
“i do.”
“you realise sitting on me doesn’t actually get it into your stomach?”
“…i know.” another sniffle “i just wanted to sit here first.”
“take all the time you need.”
for another minute neither of you moved. she simply stayed there, breathing slowly against your neck, but eventually you reached for the bowl.
“think you’re ready?”
she nodded without lifting her head. you scooped a small spoonful, blowing gently across the top before holding it in front of her.
she looked at it and made a tiny face “my throat really hurts.”
“i know, baby.”
“it feels like swallowing glass.” the words came out rough and congested, her voice catching halfway through the sentence before she cleared her throat with a quiet wince.
you set the spoon back into the bowl for a moment. your fingers brushed gently beneath her chin until she looked up at you.
“i know it hurts.” her eyes searched yours. “but the warm broth will help.”
“…will it?”
“it won’t fix it.” you tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear “but it’ll soothe it for a little while.”
she looked unconvinced “i don’t wanna make it worse.”
“you won’t.” a small silence settled between you.
she glanced back at the bowl, then at you “…can you stay like this?”
you smiled “i’m not going anywhere.”
“no, i mean…” she shifted closer somehow, curling herself further into your lap until one arm was tucked between the two of you and her cheek rested properly against your shoulder.
“…can i stay here while i eat?”
your heart melted a little“of course you can.”
she relaxed immediately. you picked the spoon back up, waiting until she’d nodded before offering her another small mouthful.
this time she accepted it and swallowed carefully. her face tightened for a second, then she looked a little surprised “that’s actually nice.”
“i told you.”
between each few bites she’d rest her forehead back against your collarbone, eyes closing while she worked up the energy for the next one.
by the time the bowl was empty, megan was visibly exhausted from the effort of simply sitting upright.
she’d barely spoken for the last ten minutes, only lifting her head when you offered another spoonful before settling back against you again, her breathing heavier through her blocked nose.
you waited another minute, letting her rest before carefully slipping an arm beneath her knees.
“come on.”
she frowned sleepily “…where?”
“just shifting you over for a second.”
“mhm…”
she didn’t protest. you eased her onto the sofa, tucking the blanket back around her shoulders before standing with the empty bowl.
the movement beneath her made her stir, just enough that one tired hand reached out instinctively, fingers brushing your wrist before slipping away again.
“i’ll be right back,” you said quietly.
“mhm.” her eyes never opened.
you carried everything into the kitchen, rinsing the bowl beneath warm water before reaching for the saucepan. you’d just begun filling the sink when you heard it.
“…baby?” it was so quiet you almost thought you’d imagined it. you turned the tap off immediately. another cough echoed faintly from the living room, followed by a congested sniffle.
“…yeah?”
a pause.
“…where are you?”
“i’m in the kitchen.”
silence again. you picked the saucepan back up and even ten seconds later, slow footsteps padded across the wooden floor.
you looked over your shoulder, megan stood in the doorway. her hair was flattened on one side from where she’d been lying against you all evening, loose strands stuck to her warm forehead.
there were faint shadows beneath her eyes, her cheeks flushed again now the medicine had begun wearing off.
“what happened to resting?” you asked softly.
she shrugged and another cough interrupted her. she turned her head into her shoulder, coughing quietly until it eased before drawing a slow, shaky breath through her nose.
the congestion forced her to breathe through parted lips instead.
you crossed the kitchen in two steps. “hey.”
your hand settled gently against the side of her face. she leaned into it before she’d even realised she was doing it.
her voice was barely there now “i just…” she swallowed “my head feels funny.”
you frowned. “dizzy?”
“a little.” she looked embarrassed admitting it “i got up and…” another shrug “…i didn’t like not seeing you.”
you wrapped an arm carefully around her waist and her body relaxed almost instantly “you don’t have to come looking for me.”
“i know.”
“i’ll always come back.”
she nodded against your shoulder “i just wanted you.”
the honesty of it caught you off guard just a feverish confession from someone whose brain was too tired to hide what she was feeling.
you rubbed slow circles across her back “i’m just finishing these.”
she watched the sink over your shoulder “…do you have to?”
“only another minute.”
she stayed quiet. her fingers found the front of your hoodie this time, gathering a little of the fabric in her fist.
“…can they wait?”
you looked at the dishes, then at megan. she was fighting to keep her eyes open. every few seconds they drifted shut before she forced them open again, like she was determined not to fall asleep unless she knew exactly where you were.
the saucepan suddenly didn’t seem all that important. you turned the tap off “they can wait.”
you felt her shoulders drop in relief. you guided her slowly back towards the living room, one arm around her the entire time.
the moment you both sat down, she didn’t even try to hide it anymore. she curled into you immediately. her forehead settled against the hollow beneath your collarbone, still carrying that lingering warmth from the fever, while one arm slipped weakly around your waist beneath the blanket.
within seconds, her breathing had slowed. a quiet, congested little sigh escaped her.
“…better?”
she gave the tiniest nod against your chest “so much.”
you kissed the top of her head “i’ve got you, baby.”
~~~~~
outside, the last of the daylight had disappeared, leaving only the warm glow of the lamp tucked into the corner beside the sofa.
megan lay tucked against you beneath the blanket, one of your arms wrapped securely around her while the other lazily stroked up and down her back.
she’d barely moved in almost twenty minutes.
every now and then she’d shift just enough to get comfortable before settling again, her forehead resting against the hollow beneath your collarbone.
her breathing remained congested, each inhale sounding blocked before leaving in a slow sigh.
you continued running your fingers through the ends of her hair “you doing okay, baby?”
for a moment you weren’t sure she’d heard you.
a tiny shrug “no.”
the made your chest ache. you kissed the top of her head “no?”
she shook her head against you “i hate this.”
“i hate being sick.” her voice was barely more than a rasp now, every word rough around the edges from hours of coughing “i feel gross.”
“you’ve got the flu”
she sniffed quietly “i just…” her fingers twisted absentmindedly in the fabric of your hoodie “i can’t breathe properly.”
“my throat feels like…” she swallowed carefully, wincing“…like i swallowed glass.”
you rubbed slow circles between her shoulder blades “i’m sorry, baby.”
she let out a long breath “i never get this sick.”
“it’s stupid.” she was quiet again “i don’t like needing help.”
your hand paused briefly before continuing its slow rhythm across her back “you’re allowed to.”
“…yeah.”
“i like looking after you.”
she gave the faintest huff through her nose “you say that now…”
“i’ll still be saying it tomorrow.”
that earned the smallest smile but it disappeared almost as quickly as her nose wrinkled.
you felt it before you saw it she sniffed once, then again “…mm.”
“what is it?”
“my nose…” her voice had gone even stuffier somehow. she sniffed again, this time frowning when it didn’t help “it’s running.”
you glanced towards the coffee table, the tissue box was just out of reach.
“hang on.” keeping one arm around her, you leaned forward, stretching towards it.
you’d barely moved a few inches when-
“heh…”
megan froze against you.
“…hh-“p
you looked down “oh baby-
“hh… h’ktschh!”
the sneeze burst out before she had any chance of turning away.
instinctively she’d buried her face into the crook of your arm, muffling it almost entirely into the sleeve of your hoodie then she groaned.
“oh…” her hand immediately flew to her throat the force of it had clearly hurt. she squeezed her eyes shut, coughing once before swallowing carefully “ow.”
you reached the last few inches to the tissue box, pulling out a handful. she accepted one with a tiny mumbled, “sorry,” before gently blowing her nose.
when she finished, she looked miserably down at your sleeve “…i sneezed on you.”
her face immediately screwed up, not because the sneeze had hurt this time, but because she’d realised exactly where it’d landed “oh my god.”
“mei-“
“no” she covered part of her face with the tissue, groaning quietly “i’m actually disgusting.”
she looked genuinely mortified, avoiding your eyes as she rubbed tiredly at her nose.
“i’m sorry.”
“it’s okay.”
“no, it’s not.” she shook her head stubbornly, another sniffle escaping before she could stop it “i’ve been coughing on you all day, now this…”
you waited until she finally looked back up.
then, without making a fuss of it, you reached behind your neck and pulled your hoodie over your head.
megan frowned “what’re you doing?”
you bundled it up loosely in one hand before tossing it onto the armchair across the room “there.”
“it’s going in the wash anyway.”
she stared at the hoodie, then back at you.
“that’s it?”
you smiled “what else was i supposed to do?”
“i don’t know…” she looked down at her hands “i just feel bad.”
you simply reached over, taking the tissue from where she’d been absent-mindedly crushing it in her fist before grabbing another clean one from the box.
“here.”
she accepted it with a quiet, “thanks.”
after blowing her nose, she sat there for a second, shoulders slumped, clearly worn out by what had been a completely ordinary sneeze.
the fever really was making everything feel bigger than it was.
without a word, she shifted back across the sofa until she was against you again. this time there was nothing between you except the thin cotton of her t-shirt. the second her forehead rested against your chest she let out the smallest breath.
“…you’re cold.”
you laughed softly “i’m definitely not.”
“you are compared to me.”
she stayed exactly where she was.
the coolness of your skin seemed to help and within a minute you could feel the tightness she’d been carrying start to ease. her breathing slowed again, the little crease between her brows relaxing as she settled.
“i’m sorry,” she mumbled one last time, her voice muffled against your chest.
after a while, you felt her hand reach for yours beneath the blanket.
you intertwined your fingers with hers and she gave your hand one sleepy squeeze before letting herself sink properly against you again, the warmth of her fevered forehead resting just beneath your collarbone while the room fell back into silence.
~~~~~
the apartment felt lighter the next morning.
the fever had finally broken sometime before sunrise. you’d woken more than once out of habit, checking megan’s forehead in the dark, only to find cool skin beneath your hand for the first time in almost twenty-four hours.
by the time you wandered into the kitchen, megan was still upstairs. you took your time making coffee, opening a window to let the cool morning air drift through the apartment.
the silence lasted all of three minutes then soft footsteps padded across the landing overhead.
you smiled to yourself before she’d even appeared.
megan wandered into the kitchen wearing the same oversized t-shirt she’d practically lived in since yesterday.
she looked better but not completely, her nose was still pink. her voice was still slightly congested when she mumbled, “morning.” but the colour had returned to her face.
“morning.”
she stopped beside you while you poured coffee. she stepped closer until her shoulder rested lightly against yours.
eventually you reached into the cupboard for two bowls. the moment you moved away, she moved too. you walked to the fridge and she followed.
you looked sideways “…baby.”
“hm?”
“you know you’re following me, right?”
she blinked “…am i?”
“oh.” a tiny laugh escaped her ”sorry..again”
she smiled sheepishly before leaning lightly against your shoulder again.
“i think yesterday broke my brain.”
“i think yesterday made you into a koala.”
she laughed properly this time and buried her face in your shoulder with an embarrassed groan. you laughed, wrapping an arm loosely around her waist “you were cute.”
she stayed there for a second before looking up at you “…i’m still gonna do it.”
“hm?”
“the following you around thing.” she shrugged looking almost bashful.
“i mean…” she reached down, absent-mindedly slipping her fingers through yours “just because i’m not sick anymore…”
she glanced down at your joined hands “doesn’t mean i don’t wanna be close to you.”
your smile softened “i was hoping that wasn’t just a flu symptom.”
she rolled her eyes fondly “no.”
your fingers remained laced together as you looked at her.
she still looked tired. there were faint shadows beneath her eyes, her hair still slightly messy from sleep, and every now and then she’d pause to sniffle quietly through her blocked nose.
you reached up, brushing another loose strand of hair back behind her ear.
she smiled “what?”
“you’ve got bed hair.”
she rolled her eyes “you love my bed hair.”
“i do.”
the smile lingered on her face. you let your hand stay where it was, your thumb brushing lightly across the warmth of her cheek.
she leaned into it instinctively. your eyes dropped briefly to her lips before meeting hers again.
“come here.”
she closed the small gap between you without hesitation. the kiss was slow enough that neither of you felt any need to rush it, just savouring the soft press of her lips against yours.
she smiled into it almost immediately, and you felt your own mouth curve in response.
your hand slipped gently from her cheek to the back of her neck, fingertips disappearing into the soft hair there as you held her just a little closer.
she hummed quietly against your lips.
when you finally pulled back, your foreheads rested together, your noses brushing as the two of you stayed there for another moment.
you smiled “i love yo-“
“hh’ktschh!”
the sneeze came without any warning at all. megan barely managed to turn her head before it escaped, straight into the side of your shoulder.
she blinked, then looked back at you “…maybe i’m still a little sick.”
you looked down at the tiny damp patch she’d left on your t-shirt before meeting her eyes again.
“uh-huh.” still smiling, you reached for the towel hanging beside the sink, giving your shoulder an absent-minded wipe before tossing it back where it had been.
megan watched you “sorry…” she huffed a quiet laugh through her nose then she stepped back into your space.
her arms slipped around your waist, her cheek settling against your chest. you wrapped your arms around her in return, feeling her relax almost immediately as she tucked herself comfortably against you.
a few seconds passed then, in a voice still slightly stuffed up with her lingering cold, she mumbled “…so…”
“…can you make me some soup?”
you laughed softly, pressing a kiss into the top of her hai “of course.”
still holding onto you, she gave your hoodie one absent-minded tug toward the kitchen.
some habits, it seemed thankfully weren’t just flu symptoms after all.
a/n - to the anon that requested i hope i did it justice! i usually write in like third person so this was an experiment lol. i enjoyed writing it!
Coach Sohey's whistle cut through the gymnasium. The team, scattered around doing warm-up exercises, stopped immediately and gathered in the center of the court, forming a semicircle around him.
You positioned yourself at the front, as always. Arms crossed, legs slightly apart, attentive gaze. It was your spot. The spot you'd earned after three years of sweat and sacrifice.
"Alright, girls," Sohey began, a middle-aged man, thin, with glasses and an expression that looked like he was evaluating every move the team made before it even happened. "As I mentioned to you last week, today we have an important addition."
He paused and turned his head toward the locker room door, making a wide gesture with his hand.
"You can come in."
The entire team turned their gaze toward the entrance. The girls whispered among themselves in low voices, one stretching her neck to see better while Megan, next to you, gave you a gentle nudge with her elbow out of curiosity.
And then she appeared.
Manon walked toward the group with a natural elegance — it would be a lie to say she didn't intimidate. She was tall — a couple of centimeters taller than you — and her presence was magnetic. Her dark hair was pulled up in a high ponytail that showed off her long, slender neck. Her brown skin glowed under the gym lights.
"Girls, I'd like to introduce Manon Bannerman," Sohey announced with pride, his voice carrying a hint of excitement. "She comes from Switzerland, and she's been playing on her country's U-21 national team. She's an opposite hitter, just like Y/n, and she has an impressive track record. I'm sure she'll bring a lot to the team."
Manon smiled — a wide, genuine smile that seemed to light up the entire gym. Her dark eyes scanned the group before briefly landing on you. When your gazes met, there was something in her pupils you couldn't decipher, but it didn't seem malicious. Just curiosity.
"Hi everyone," she greeted, her voice soft, with a beautiful accent. "I'm really happy to be here. I've heard amazing things about the Gold Stars, and I can't wait to start training with you all."
The girls responded with smiles, some waving back warmly. The atmosphere was positive, welcoming.
"Well, Manon, why don't you join the group for warm-up?" Sohey suggested, pointing to the circle forming. "We're going to start with mobility exercises, and then we'll do a practice match."
Manon nodded, and everyone began to spread out across the wide court.
Before you could do the same, Sohey approached you. The rest of the girls were busy, stretching or preparing for warm-up, so no one noticed when he leaned toward your ear.
"Y/n," he said in a low voice, so low only you could hear. "One thing."
You turned slightly toward him, raising an eyebrow.
"That girl," he whispered, his eyes fixed on Manon. "She's really good. I've watched her matches. She has natural talent." He paused, and his voice became more serious. "Watch your spot. If you're not at a hundred percent, she's going to take it. Understood?"
You felt your blood run cold. It wasn't a suggestion. It was a warning.
"Understood," you replied, your voice coming out tenser than you'd intended.
Sohey nodded and walked away, leaving you with your heart pounding and a heavy feeling in your chest.
It wasn't the first time someone new had joined the team. But no one had ever made you feel like your spot was in danger before.
Manon wasn't just any rookie. She was a threat.
And the fact that you played the same position only made things worse.
As you rejoined the team, whether by coincidence or bad luck, Manon ended up right next to you.
"Thanks for the welcome, captain," she said quietly, just to you, with a genuine smile that seemed to have no ulterior motive, as if she truly valued your approval.
"Don't mention it," you replied curtly, without looking at her, staring straight ahead as if she didn't exist.
Manon didn't seem to notice the tone, or maybe she chose to ignore it. Her smile stayed intact, as if your coldness hadn't managed to touch her at all.
"It's an honor to be on your team. I've watched some of your matches online. You're incredible."
That last sentence caught you off guard. For a moment, you didn't know how to react. It had been a sincere compliment, with no double meaning, and the way she said it made you feel like she really meant it. But your pride wouldn't let you accept it.
"Thanks," you said, with the same dryness as before. "I hope you're in shape."
"Don't worry," she replied, and there was a soft laugh in her voice, as if your attitude amused her more than offended her. "I always am. But I'll have to work hard to measure up to you."
That last part irritated you more than it should have. Measure up to you? Did she think she could?
The warm-up began. Mobility exercises, stretches, light runs around the court. Manon moved with a fluidity that seemed natural, effortless. She jumped, stretched, turned, and everything seemed to come out perfectly.
When Sohey split the team for the practice match, you took your position with your teeth clenched.
"Y/n, you're with Megan, Lara, and…" Sohey looked at the list. "Daniela and Sophia. Manon, you're with Yoonchae, Adela, Emily, and Marquise." He paused, counting. "Alright, let's do six-on-six. Play to twenty-five. Let's go!"
Manon positioned herself across from you, on the other side of the net. Her eyes met yours, and that smile appeared again — so warm and carefree as always, as if there was nothing in the world that could wipe it away.
"Good luck, captain," she said.
"Thanks," you replied, and the challenge in your voice was completely one-sided, because she wasn't competing with you. At least not yet.
The first point went to your team. Good pass from Sophia, your spike, point. The girls celebrated, and you shot a quick glance at Manon. She didn't seem affected; she just got into position for the next play with the same calm as always, as if she'd been doing this her whole life.
The second point went to the other team. And that's when you saw it.
Megan served. Your team's reception was good, and the ball reached Sophia's position to set. The ball went up, perfect, toward the center of the net, heading for your spike.
And then Manon jumped.
It wasn't just any jump. Her legs propelled her with a force that seemed to defy gravity, her arm pulled back and then came down like a whip. The impact against the ball was sharp, powerful, and the ball shot across the court like a bullet, hitting the floor before anyone could react.
Point for them.
"Nice one!" Sohey shouted from the sideline, with enthusiasm.
Manon landed with the grace of a cat, turned, and high-fived her teammates as if she'd been playing with them for years.
"Easy, it was a good play," Sophia murmured beside you, noticing your tension and placing a hand on your shoulder in a supportive gesture.
"I know," you replied, but your voice came out harder than you wanted, and you shook her hand off with a brusque movement, unable to accept comfort — because accepting comfort would be accepting the threat.
The match continued. And over the next few points, the unease grew.
It's not that Manon was better than you at everything. You had more experience, more game sense, more strategy. But she had something you couldn't ignore: refined technique, power in her spikes that made the ball seem to have a life of its own, and agility around the net.
"Are you seeing this?" Daniela asked beside you, her eyes wide and a tone of admiration you couldn't help but notice.
"I'm seeing it," you replied, and you clenched your fists so hard your nails dug into your palms.
The match ended with a win for Manon's team: 25-21. It wasn't a blowout, but she'd scored at least ten points, and every one of them had been a flawless spike.
As the rest of the team headed toward the locker room, you stayed on the court, arms crossed, jaw tight. Sohey approached and gave you a pat on the shoulder.
"Good work today, Y/n."
You nodded without looking at him.
"That girl's good, huh?" he said, as if it were nothing, but with a smile that told you he knew exactly what you were feeling and was maybe enjoying it.
"Yeah," you replied, and the word tasted like poison.
Sohey smiled and walked away, leaving you alone on the empty court.
And there, in the silence of the gymnasium, with the echo of Manon's spikes still ringing in your ears, you allowed yourself to feel what you'd been suppressing all practice.
Fear.
Not fear of losing your spot. Fear that she was better than you. Fear that everything you'd built, all the effort, all the sacrifice, wouldn't be enough.
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