#And probably feels so relieved that the wall in their relationship was something out of their control

[dollyichi]

MAD PUP

kaminari denki x f ! reader ᯓ★ 2.7k words. m—dni. established relationship / both are pro-heroes / m-rec. oral / mentions of injury / c^m in pant!es / not proofread

an entry to my “ milk and cookies “ event with the prompt #6 “no don’t take it off, i want it just like this.” requested by an anon!

your boyfriend’s sulky and playing hard to get because of a little misunderstanding. that’s fine, you always know how to get your way in the end.

“denki… please don’t ignore me!” you’re on your knees beside him on the couch, tugging on his sleeves. “are you mad at me?” as if he could resist those doe eyes—but right now, he has to.

you got home late today because you passed out during a mission and was only brought home when you were given the clear after waking up. he wasn’t mad about that—he was more relieved you were alright. but since you’re finally home, he was mainly mad with the ‘fact’ that you left him early in the morning without even telling him where you’re headed off to. shutting the front door so quickly, him trying to run down the stairs to catch up to wish you good luck, then you’re suddenly gone the whole day—not even leaving a note, no texts, no calls—just pure silence.

very out of character compared to the you that he knows—sweet, loving, actually giving him actual attention? (maybe a bit of an overreaction.)

you’ve been dating for three years and you’ve never done that, not once, neither did he. besides, he can’t recall anything that could’ve gotten you upset at him.

then there goes the overthinking: are you cheating? are you sick of him? not even a little kiss before you go?

if you can’t even say a simple ‘goodbye,’ then he shouldn’t have to greet you with a ‘welcome home.’

when the bells start to chime and you’re going inside the house, your lover isn’t there looking at you like an excited puppy. it makes you raise a brow but it wasn’t that much of a bother. you figured he was probably asleep and resting.

you use this time to take a shower, hoping to spend time with him after—this had his eye twitching from how calm you’re being as he watched from behind the wall that connects to the hallway. “didn’t even bother to find me.” he mutters with a whimper.

the best attack is showing you that he is definitely ignoring you. and thus, when you finish your shower and you catch him in the living room, you get on the couch to hug him immediately. “denki! i really missed you so much today!” yet he doesn’t move, doesn’t look, doesn’t even talk, and refuses to let you cuddle up to him.

confused and oblivious, you place a hand on the side of his neck, “you got no fever though.” he shakes your hand away, “huh? you got hit with a quirk or something?” you say with puffed cheeks.

he’s leaning on the edge of the couch, turning his body slightly to the side, glaring away. somewhat amused with how you’re deliberately trying to get him to look.

‘that’ll give you the taste of your own medicine!’ he reassures himself, but it’s so. damn. hard.

you’re so pretty right now—as always—but especially, now.

you don’t usually have to beg him for anything, you hardly do. you rarely ever fight and it was always easy to make up when you argue. today was just the worst of it. and he wanted a little bit of revenge for feeling left out of your day but he feels like he’s being beaten to a pulp in this silent battle he’s made.

you’re batting your eyelashes, pressing your thighs together. ass so plump against the tiny shorts you always liked to wear at home. hair a little bit damp, probably rushed drying it, towel around your neck, tight shirt. listing all these little details in his head since now was the only time he got to see you properly for today—this was torture for him too you know!

the cherry on top was definitely the lip balm that’s on your lips that you use before going to bed. he’s internally groaning because he always kisses you when you get home—no! you deserve at least this much.

‘ahhh! don’t get hard. don’t get hard. you’re supposed to teach her a lesson!’ he’s doing his best to distract himself and not let the blood flow directly get down to his pants.

you’re so confused why he wouldn’t even look at you. maybe he’s lost it? or was the injury he got yesterday getting to him?

“tch. you don’t wanna look at me, huh, denki?” ‘you’re so cute.’ “then i’ll make you look dummy.” ‘god, you’re really fucking cute.’

the next movements you make has him frozen in his seat, for real this time. watching you move down to the carpet in front of him and tugging his sweatpants down alongside his boxers. already kissing the tip of his dick’s that slightly hard, hands dragging on his body, resting on the back of his thighs, then sensually rubbing up and down.

you suck on it experimentally, and he almost chokes on his own spit. you’re so naughty and dirty, immediately targeting his most sensitive part at the get go.

he never expected you to fight back this hard. he rarely even lets you suck him off cause he knows he’s going to cum just from seeing you take him in your mouth. almost forgetting that ‘lesson’ he wants to teach you.

so he doesn’t look. he doesn’t look but he’s already shaking. gripping onto wherever he could while you’re licking him. doing his best not to buck his hips, letting you have your way but he refuses to let you win… at least not this fast.

maybe a little peek wouldn’t hurt- no he can feel your eyes on him.

and he’s not wrong. you’re making sure your pretty eyes are on him at all times while you’re jerking him off with your hand. using your tongue to lick along his head that’s twitching every time he feels it flick. he’s breathing hard so hard, chest heaving, face contorting—he’s definitely feeling it.

his breath hitched suddenly. feeling your lips sucking around him so softly. he exhaled slowly from the warm, moist feel of your tongue. he’s getting stiffer and harder each second.

if you keep teasing him like this he’d give in. you chuckle against him, which gets him to finally look, a little shocked from the vibrations. as stubborn as he is, he’s still not saying anything, still refusing to touch you—what’s wrong with him?

you take him in deeper. wrapping your hand around the shaft of his cock while your lips inched further. letting his dick slide against your tongue. you’re doing your best to see his every reaction was you looked up through your eyelashes. when your eyes meet he’s already averting his gaze—he’d cum immediately.

it’s crazy how the shine of your balm is mixed with his pre, coating your lips prettily while it’s wrapped around him. bobbing your head up and down so, so slow. he’s already melting. mouth slightly parted while his eyes narrowed down on you.

his fingers are twitching wanting to touch you but he’s still so stubborn. you pull away, continuing to kiss him all over. taking your hand to spread his legs even further that’s getting him embarrassed.

he’s got that face, when you’re trying hard not to be mad but it’s not working in the slightest—you already know you got him.

‘a bit more.’ you think to yourself.

“f-fuck i’m gonna cum.” he says in a whisper, unfortunately you didn’t hear it properly.

denki knows it’s a crime to not be able to fuck you or touch you but he wants to keep up his ‘pride.’ even though it’s definitely tempting while you stared at him all wide-eyed with a guileless expression.

eventually he takes your hands, intertwining them with his as he rests them on top of his thighs.

0 - denki 1 - you

if he wasn’t so cute right now you would’ve stopped right there, when he’s so close and you suddenly deny him of it—but there was a possibility of you being in the wrong.

no matter, this is your win, he at least admits that whole heartedly. he promises to himself that he’ll never challenge you again (as if you knew that.)

“mmph~ baby i wanna cum with your pussy…” he manages to croak out. pushing the strands of hair away from your face.

he’s so close he knows if you go even faster he’s going to burst. you let him go with a pop, licking your lips. you’re smiling to yourself, ‘maybe this strategy isn’t too bad actually.’

his lips quiver as he looked at you.

suddenly, he’s pulling you up from under your arms, seating you on in his lap. “you ignored me today baby.”

“i’m sorry i did my best to get home as quick as possible.” you huff.

“then why didn’t you at least kiss me goodbye?”

you tilt your head, “because you might wake up. and i didn’t want you to get too startled in the morning. you’re still recovering you know?”

“then why didn’t you at least leave a note?”

“i did!” you pout, “i even saw it on the floor when i got here.” he did accidentally hit the fridge while he tried to ‘run’ (wobble) towards you. that explains why didn’t couldn’t see it.

you did say you worked your best today especially with the unusual high rates of villains suddenly showing up in the area.

he lets out an exasperated sigh, you stay quiet for a bit.

“you’re not mad at me?”

“so you’re not mad at me?”

you both say at the same time. you both stop to look at each other, finally taking a proper look. it was obvious from the glimmer of both your eyes that you missed each other, especially from the scare you both got yesterday when he got hit.

“i was hoping to get a kiss on my head you know… it might heal me even faster!”

“you got tons just now though?”

he snorts, “pfft! well not exactly that… but i’m not complaining.”

he pulls you closer, but you make sure not to bump his head. “you still wanna cum?” he nods.

you take your shorts off with a swift motion. you bow your head towards his cock, letting spit trickle down to his head and he’s whimpering at the sight, spreading it on his shaft with each pump of your hand. he’s watching you with an excited grin from your shoulders.

you tilt your head to face him with half-lidded eyes and your hand tight around him, flicking up and down, a trail of spit is still hanging from your lips, visibly connecting a the tip of his cock on your mouth—exactly how it was a few minutes ago.

his hand wrapped around yours that’s pumping him, slowing you down. “h-hahh baby~ just go steady this way.” he’s suddenly so close again before he stopped you.

“n-not fair, at least let me play with your pussy…” he’s so cute. aside from the bandage on his head that has you frowning, the visible tears forming at the corners of his eyes and his cute little pout has you relieved. he’s finally acting like his indulgent self.

his other hand’s trying to tug on your shorts. eventually pushing down the fabric finally exposing your clothed cunt. cooing at the sight of the very visible damp spot at the center of it all. “nice panties baby, real cute.” he chuckles. it’s as he describes it, cute. a pikachu tail patterned pair that matches him, isn’t that convenient.

“d-don’t tease me! you got this for me after all…” you say, already raising your hips to take it off but he stops you. “no don’t take it off, i want it just like this.” he whines, wasting no time to slip them to the side just enough to get him to slide his cock along your slit.

gently pressing the tip against your hole, he ran it back to the front, rubbed it against your clit. it’s just rubbing against you however already making so much noise. you didn’t think you were so turned on from your boyfriend who’s spoiled you rotten suddenly so cold, stubborn, and playing hard to get.

“i love you… denki…” your clit’s so swollen and sensitive from the friction as you grind on each other. “but i-i d-don’t want you to do too much right now though…” you tell him.

“i love you more. so don’t underestimate me baby. just a little hit on the head wont stop me from making you feel good.”

‘as if it was actually little,’ you think to yourself.

he slowly moves your underwear downward, not removing it entirely. letting him slip both his hand and cock from underneath.

he places his tip against your clit, as if he’s kissing it himself. you cried, not caring about the unintelligible sounds coming out of your mouth. feeling his middle and ring finger enter into your pussy from behind, giving you the extra sensation. it’s crazy, feeling so much from the front and inside.

with a shaky hand you reach down to cup his cock. pressing a little harder to help him get there faster. most of your senses were muffled, like grain and static—all hazy.

his fingers constantly pump into you, your walls taking them so deeply he barely even pulled them out. it sent shockwaves through you every time his tip circled your puffy bundle of nerves.

your legs start to tremble from how good he’s making you feel. nothing but choking sobs and his name in broken whimpers left your lips. your walls slightly trembling around his finger made him know you were getting close. he peppers the side of your mouth with kisses easing you into your own peak.

getting dizzy from the sounds of the lewd squelching of your sexes and the way yours and his hand get sloppier by the second. that little knot in your stomach getting tighter with every motion.

before you know it your entire body twitches in time with your intense climax hitting you so suddenly. still, denki’s fingers doesn’t still inside you, letting you ride out your orgasm on his fingers while your walls constantly spasm around them.

fingers curled deep inside you while he continued to jerk himself with his other hand, tip hitting your sensitive clit that has you hissing from the slightest touch.

his breathing was labored, sticking out his tongue against your neck while trying to reach his own high. he’s so sexy when he desperately wants to cum.

you pull his fingers out, while your other hand fixed your panties, letting it hit against his tip that’s leaking so much, wetting the spot even more. “h-hah… so close baby… so close… gonna cum in your panties- mmhh~ gonna make a m-mess just like you.”

he inhaled through his teeth, repeating your name in a chant-like way, making choked sounds as he reached his climax. feeling every shot of his load onto your inner thighs, feeling every drop of warmth to drip down and pool at the bottom of your underwear. you tremble when feel it trickle down against your cunt.

denki places gentle, moist kisses on your shoulder, finally both calming down from your high from how intense session you both had. your bodies to gradually sink deeper against each other and on the couch.

it was all loving and tender till you see your boyfriend make that face of his when he overdoes it. “stupid! look what happened.”

you immediately stand up to get an ice pack to cool him down, however the post-clarity hits you and the uncomfortable feeling of your juices and his slick collected in your cotton panties was not the best sensation.

it’s as if denki’s vision focuses immediately on your inner thighs, seeing the fluids flow down. it gets him to almost sit up slightly with his cock getting hard again—almost gaining complete and proper consciousness out of sheer arousal alone.

with the towel on your neck you try to wipe it off. you can hear him whine under his breath, not liking what you’re doing at all.

“holy shit… something really hurt your brain this time!”

“one m-more time?” he asks weakly.

you profusely shake your head, crossing your arms. “shut up!”

you take a mental note to be stricter this time. no more sex till he’s properly recovered, and to buy better refrigerator magnets.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : HAPPY NEW YEAR! lmk what you think of this fic and ghe dynamic!! i am so bad at male rec i took everything i had in me (that i have right now) to think of this… i love denki so bad btw

[chancloud8]

CHAPTER 1

series masterlist

Pairing: OT8 x reader

Word Count: 3,9k

Tags: Intro, bodyguard!ot8, idol!reader

Summary: Meeting your new bodyguards doesn't go as smoothly as everyone hoped..

‘I don’t need a group of bodyguards,’ you repeat for what feels like the hundredth time. 

Your manager Yoona doesn’t even look at you anymore and you fight the urge to stamp your feet like a little child to get her attention. You won’t stoop that low though, so instead you place your hands on your hips and glare at the woman who’s been by your side since you debuted about two years ago. 

‘We’re not having this discussion again, y/n,’ Yoona says, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. ‘Your popularity is growing by the day, you’ve received multiple death threats in the last few months and in case you forgot, last week someone tried to break into your home.’ 

Your shoulders deflate and your hands fall down beside your body. You can’t really argue with that, but you’ve grown so accustomed to having Faris at your side as your one and only bodyguard, that the thought of eight men taking his place makes you shiver. Who the hell needed eight freaking bodyguards? You weren’t a princess for fuck’s sake. 

Yoona finally looks at you then. ‘It’s very important to us to keep you safe, darling. I know it will be an adjustment, but you’ll get used to it.’ 

‘But eight?’ you argue, trying once more. ‘Do I really need eight men following my every move?’ 

‘That’s why we’re placing some of them around you with other jobs as well, kind of like undercover bodyguards,’ Yoona smiles at you like that makes it any better. 

You slump down in the chair across from Yoona and frown at her. What could bodyguards possibly go undercover as in your team? Woman, sure, no problem, but a muscled man? They’d stand out immediately. 

‘What do you mean?’ you ask carefully, not sure if you even want to know. 

‘They all have multiple skill sets, but we decided on adding three of them as your dancers and one will probably step in as a personal assistant of sorts,’ Yoona explains, her eyes once more on her phone screen. 

‘Why?’ you blurt out. ‘I don’t even need new dancers? We’re not firing anyone are we?’ 

You were perfectly happy with your team as it was and it would kill you to let any of them go because Yoona decided you needed eight freaking men to watch you. 

Yoona sighed and put down her phone. ‘We’re not firing anyone, but Dohyun is still recovering from his injury and Ju-won has asked for a few months off to visit his family. As for why, it will allow them to be around you more casually.’ 

Damnit. That actually made sense. 

‘And you’re sure they can dance?’ you ask, already knowing the answer. Yoona would never suggest something like this if they couldn’t. 

‘Yes, y/n, they can dance. I think you’ll be impressed actually.’ 

That makes you curious. Yoona isn’t easily impressed, so if she thinks you’ll approve, they must be good. Maybe you should give them a chance, or just be such a brat they run away screaming. 

‘Fine,’ you sigh. ‘When will I meet them?’ 

Yoona looks at her watch and your eyes widen at the movement. She wouldn’t do this to you, would she? 

‘They’ll be here in an hour to meet you,’ Yoona says and you let out a relieved breath. ‘You better be back here by then or I will let one of them drag you here by your ear.’ 

‘Bossy much,’ you whisper, but you don’t really mean it. You luckily have a very good relationship with your manager and even though she drives you up a wall sometimes, you know she has your best interest at heart. 

Yoona rolls her eyes at you and waves her hand at the door. ‘Go be bratty somewhere else, I’ll see you in an hour.’ 

You bark out a laugh and jump up from the chair. ‘As you wish, my Queen,’ you say, doing a little courtesy. 

Your current bodyguard Faris is waiting for you in the hallway, a smile on his handsome face as he spots you. 

‘Good talk?’ he asks, following one step behind you. 

‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ you ask, glaring at him over your shoulder. 

‘I’m the one who recommended them actually,’ Faris says and only his quick reflexes stop him from walking straight into your back as you stop walking immediately at his words. 

‘What?’ you turn around to frown at him. ‘Why would you do that to me?’ 

Faris raises his eyebrows and stares down at you with a knowing look, his arms crossing over his chest. 

‘Fine,’ you roll your eyes at him. ‘I know why, Yoona was so kind to remind me, but I still don’t get why it has to be eight.’ 

‘It might seem excessive to you Nabi,’ Faris says, addressing you with your stage name which he knows usually softens you. ‘But you don’t see all that we see and trust me when I say that once you’re on tour, you’ll be happy to have them by your side. It gets crazy out there.’ 

‘I know that, but undercover bodyguards?’ you make a face. ‘I’m not royalty.’ 

Faris chuckles and with a gentle push on your shoulder, he guides you further through the hallway and towards the studio you were working at before Yoona called you to her office. It was one of the things you really liked about your agency. Nearly everything you needed was in the same building. 

‘You may as well be and I trust Chan and his guys to keep you safe,’ Faris says as he holds a door open for you. 

‘So you really know them?’ you ask, sitting down at the desk you were working at before. Your laptop is still open on the editing program you work with and there are multiple notebooks, paper coffee cups and empty candy wrappers spread all around it. ‘Did you work with them before?’ 

‘I trained 3RACHA actually,’ Faris nods. ‘Chan and I had multiple gigs together after that and I’ve only heard good things about the others as well. I’m confident I’m leaving you in good hands.’ 

‘You shouldn’t be leaving me at all,’ you groan, throwing your head back against your chair. ‘But I understand and I hope that when I have a husband one day, he'll do the same for me.’ 

Faris just smiles at that and gets comfortable on the couch facing the door. He knows better than to get into this conversation with you again. Last time you ended up facetiming his wife in tears and he ended up having to calm down two crying women. 

‘Wait, did you just say sriracha?’ you sit up in your chair when your brain suddenly realizes what he had just said. ‘As in the hot sauce?’

‘No, I said 3RACHA, that’s what they called themselves back then,’ Faris replies, glancing at you. ‘I think they made music together in their free time, before they started their own company.’ 

Huh. Interesting. Why on earth would they go from making music together to becoming bodyguards? 

‘So all eight of them made music together?’ you ask curiously. 

‘No, just Chan, Jisung and Changbin. I think they mostly rapped, but if you’re interested in knowing more, you can always ask. It could break the ice when you meet them,’ Faris suggests, winking at you. 

‘I’ll pass, I don’t want them to think I’m happy about this arrangement,’ you murmur, turning your chair so your back is to Faris. ‘Will you tell me when it’s time to go?’ 

‘Don’t I always?’ he chuckles. 

You flip him off without looking and put on your headphones. Time to edit some more music. 

****

You’re so engrossed in your music, that it takes Faris multiple tries to get you to put down your headphones. He even goes as far as opening the blinds to let the light in, making you whimper and flinch by the intrusion of it. 

‘Alright, alright,’ you yell, your eyes scrunched close. ‘I beg for mercy, I’ll come with you.’ 

Faris laughs and closes the blinds, once again developing the room in darkness, just how you like it. He has scolded you many times before about how bad it is for your eyes to squint at your screen in a dark room, but you rarely listen to him about it. 

‘If you think about telling my new watch dogs this trick of yours, I’ll haunt you,’ you warn Faris when the two of you walk towards Yoona’s office. 

Faris makes a movement with his hands as if he’s zipping his lips closed and you nod happily at him, trusting him to keep his word. 

‘How late are we?’ you ask, having forgotten your phone in the studio when Faris basically dragged you out by your arm. 

‘About five minutes too early,’ he smiles proudly. 

Of fucking course. He’s been working with you for two years so he knows all your annoying traits by now, including having a habit of being late because you simply forget the time when you’re working. 

‘What will I do without you,’ you pout at him, ignoring the nervous butterflies in your stomach as you near Yoona’s office. 

‘You’ll be just fine, Nabi,’ Faris says and you’re not sure if he means it as a reply to what you just said or as a reassurance before meeting your new team of bodyguards. 

Taking a deep breath, you turn towards Faris. ‘How do I look?’ 

‘I thought you didn’t care?’ he grins, but he reaches out to flatten a few wild strands of your hair. 

You blow him a kiss, put on a straight face and turn around to knock on the door before pushing it open. The first thing you’re greeted with is the silhouette of 4 men standing with their back to you. Each of them have broad muscular shoulders that are clearly visible under the black suit jacket they’re wearing, the fabric straining like they’re wearing a size too small. 

The man on the right turns around when you enter and you nearly gasp at his beauty. His hair is styled to show a little v of his forehead and the black strands nearly reach his eyes. Jesus. He could be a model if he wanted too. He raises his eyebrows at you when you just stare at him for a moment, before he nudges the man next to him. 

‘Are you fucking kidding me,’ you mutter under your breathe when the other man turns around and piercing eyes meet yours. 

Of course he’s beautiful as well. What the hell was Yoona thinking? 

‘Ah, Y/N, there you are,’ Yoona says when she notices you. ‘On time, even.’ 

You roll your eyes and stroll forward to her desk, ignoring the four men as you make your way around them. In that little moment you forget there’s supposed to be more of them and when you turn to stand next to Yoona and see the chairs in front of her desk filled with four more gorgeous men, you nearly stumble. 

Yoona grins at you and you narrow your eyes at the woman. 

‘You think this is funny, don’t you?’ you grumble at her. ‘Where did you even find them? heaven?’ 

One of the men snorts before trying to cover it up with a cough. 

‘Don’t mind her gentleman, she’s in a mood today,’ Yoona smiles. 

‘I wonder why,’ you mutter, sending a fake smile in the direction of the bodyguards. 

‘That’s alright, it must be a lot to take in,’ one of them says with such a deep voice that your eyes widen. 

It must look comical, cause the same man that snorted earlier, lets out a giggle. ‘Don’t worry, Miss, it’s how everyone reacts to first hearing Felix’s voice,’ 

You want to focus on him calling you Miss, but the urge to see which face belongs to the deep voice is stronger.

‘Who’s Felix?’ you ask, your eyes searching the men in front of you. 

‘I am,’ the only blonde man of the group says, lifting his hand to show you where he is. He’s absolutely stunning with freckles sprinkled over his nose and cheeks. 

‘Holy shit, is that your real voice?’ you ask without thinking, slapping your hand in front of your mouth as soon as the words come out. 

He laughs and a few of the other men chuckle as well. 

‘It is, sometimes it gets even deeper,’ he says. 

‘Yeah, Lix actually has like three different voices,’ the man who called you Miss grins. 

It’s getting annoying not to know his name, but you don’t want to ask and seem interested. Luckily one of the men at the back seems to read your mind somehow. 

‘Why don’t we all introduce ourselves, my name is Bang Chan, but you can call me Chan. I’m the leader and head of your security team as of now. So if you experience any problems with our service in any way, I’m the one you can come to.’ 

‘Noted,’ you mumble, ignoring Yoona’s glare at your rudeness. 

So that’s Chan. Faris forgot to mention how beautiful his trainee was and you were so going to punch his arm for that later. 

‘I’m Lee Minho,’ the one with the piercing stare says. ‘I’ll be joining your dance team.’ 

Fuck. Of course he is. 

‘So will I,’ Felix smiles. ‘Lee Felix.’

‘And me, Hwang Hyunjin,’ the man closest to you winks. 

Great. They were absolutely going to kill you. In more ways than one. 

Biting your lip you wait for the last four to introduce themselves and pray to all the gods that Miss guy is going to be your assistant. He already feels like the most easy going out of all eight and if you need to work with one of them closely, you’d rather it be him than anyone else. 

‘Kim Seungmin, I’ll be one of your bodyguards’ the one who noticed you first says, his eyes flicking up and down your body as if he’s calculating how much of a flight risk you are. 

Oh just you wait and see buddy. 

‘I’m Yang Jeongin, but you can call me Innie or Ayen,’ the very cute man in front of Seungmin smiles and you nearly smile back at him. 

Finally the man you’ve been waiting for speaks up. ‘I’m Han Jisung, your new assistant.’ 

You cheer in your head, keeping a straight face as you look at the last man. He’s definitely the most buff of them all, his biceps really testing the fabric of his suit jacket. 

‘And I’m Seo Changbin, also part of your daily bodyguard squad.’ 

‘You’re all way too beautiful to be bodyguards,’ you say, crossing your arms with a frown while tapping your foot on the ground. 

Yoona makes a noise beside you and you don’t dare to look at her. She’ll definitely lecture you later, but this is all on her anyways. 

‘Worried your fans will fawn over us?’ Jisung jokes, winking at you. 

Your lips tip up in a tiny smile, but you quickly straighten your face. It was going to be hard to be a brat to them, but you were nothing if you weren’t stubborn. You’re not going to just warm up to them because they were hot and funny. Nope. Not going to happen. 

‘More like you’d be too busy worrying about your good looks to protect me,’ you say, raising your eyebrows at them. 

‘Aren’t you a ray of sunshine,’ Minho grumbles, placing his hand on Jisung’s shoulder as if to comfort him. ‘You won’t have to worry about that, looking this good doesn’t cost us much.’

You open your mouth to reply, but Yoona gets up and goes to stand next to you. 

‘That’s enough Y/N,’ she hisses before smiling her million dollar smile to the men. ‘As you can see Y/N hasn’t really warmed up to the idea of having this many eyes on her all the time.’ 

‘Don’t you have that all the time though,’ Seungmin says directly to you. 

You glare at him. ‘That’s not the same. 

He just shrugs. ‘We don’t want anything from you like your fans or stalkers. We’re not here to be your friends, we’re just here to keep you safe. That’s all that should matter.’ 

His words hit you harder than they should and you can’t help but flinch. The idol life isn't great for maintaining friendships and since you weren’t in a group, the only people you really had around you to talk to were your bodyguard Faris, Yoona and your dancers. You didn’t have a best friend, or even really friends in general, not since high school ended. 

‘Min!’ Chan calls out, glaring at the man. 

You square your shoulders and tilt your head, putting another fake smile on your face. ‘It’s fine, he’s right isn’t he.’ 

‘No, he’s not,’ Chan shakes his head. ‘Listen-’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you repeat, interrupting him. ‘How about I’ll show Jisung his office and we can go over the schedule for next week?’ 

Chan frowns down at you, sharing a look with Jisung and Yoona, but then he nods. You give him a nod back in thanks and without looking at any of the other guys you make a beeline for the door, hoping Jisung will follow you. 

‘Well, that went great,’ you hear someone say before you step outside. 

Faris frowns when he sees the look on your face, but he doesn’t say anything and falls into step behind you like he always does. It’s one of the things you love about him, he always knows when to not ask questions. You can hear him and Jisung quietly talking behind you, but you don’t mind, they know each other after all. 

‘Well, here we are,’ you say, opening the door of the small office area next to the studio you usually work at. ‘You can arrange everything how you like and if you need anything you can ask Yoona.’ 

‘I wasn’t expecting an office,’ Jisung smiles at you, stepping inside the room to take a look. 

It’s not much. Just a desk with a comfortable chair and a computer, a two person couch and in the corner there’s a bookcase that so far only houses a cactus, your first three albums and a box with documents your last assistant left behind. 

‘Of course you get an office, can’t have you shacking up with me in the studio,’ you say, trying to joke with him. 

‘Hey, about what Seungmin said,’ Jisung starts, sitting down in his desk chair and twirling around. ‘He’s just very serious about his job, he didn’t really mean the part about us not being your friends.’ 

‘It’s fine,’ you shrug. ‘You’re not really meant to be my friends anyways, you’re hired to protect me.’ 

‘Yeah, you don’t look too happy about that. Why is that?’ Jisung asks and he sounds genuinely curious. ‘I mean, sure we’re a whole lot, but isn’t it nice to know you’ll be safe?’ 

‘Safe? Yes. Watched by eight, I repeat, eight men? No thank you, I don’t need that.’ 

Jisung tilts his head and purses his lips in thought, like he’s actually trying to see this from your side. ‘I get it, I do, I’ve lived with most of them for the last few years and like I said, we can be a lot.’ 

‘But?’ you ask, falling down on the couch in front of Jisung’s new desk. ‘I feel there’s a but there.’ 

‘You really have no idea, do you?’ Jisung leans his chin on his palm as he looks at you. ‘We’ve seen the threats Y/N, we’ve seen the video’s of handsy fans, we’ve seen the footage of that dude trying to break into your house. It’s a miracle really that nothing has happened to you so far with only Faris by your side.’ 

‘He’s right, Nabi,’ Faris says from his spot by the door. 

‘Okay, maybe more than one bodyguard would be better,’ you say slowly. ‘But eight? I still think it’s a bit much, especially the undercover bit.’ 

Jisung shrugs and leans back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘Maybe so, but at least you’ll know you will be safe.’ 

‘I guess,’ you mumble. 

‘Wanna go over the schedule for next week with me?’ Jisung asks. ‘Get your mind off all this for a bit?’ 

You jump up from the couch immediately and walk around the desk to stand next to him while he starts up the computer. 

****

About half an hour later you’re fairly confident Jisung will make a good assistant. He’s written down your interviews and gigs for the coming month and made a list of all the things he wanted to take care of before that. It was cute how he wanted to do it right. 

‘Knock, knock,’ a voice called out from the door and when you looked up you saw Chan and Changbin hugging Faris. 

‘How’s it going here?’ Chan smiles at you as he walks inside, his hands in his pocket. He probably tried to come off less intimidating like that, but it didn’t really work. 

‘Fine,’ you say, looking at the computer screen again. 

If you kept your eyes on him you’d probably drool all over your favorite studio outfit. That man was way too fine. 

‘It’s going great, Channie,’ Jisung says. ‘We’ve been getting along perfectly without the ice kings here.’ 

‘Don’t let them hear you call them that,’ Chan chuckles, moving to sit on the couch. ‘I hope we’ll be able to make this work, Y/N. I take great pride in my work and I’ll do anything I can to make you feel comfortable around us.’ 

Ugh. Why did he have to be so kind too? 

‘Thank you,’ you mutter, your eyes still on the screen. 

‘We’ll promise not to impose your privacy too much when we move in, but–’ 

Your head snaps up to look at him then and from the corner of your eyes you notice Jisung covering his face with his hands. 

‘What did you just say?’ you ask, standing up. ‘Please tell me I didn’t just hear you say the words moving in?’ 

‘Uhm,’ Chan tilts his head in confusion. ‘I thought you knew?’ 

‘Knew. What?’ you growl, your fingers balling up in fists. 

‘Oh boy,’ Jisung whispers and you turn to glare at him. 

‘You knew about this?’ 

‘Uhm, we all did? And we figured so would you,’ he shrugs, looking at you with big innocent eyes. 

You close your eyes, not at all immune to those brown doe eyes. If you keep looking at him you will stop being angry and you can’t do that. Not now. 

‘If somebody doesn’t tell me very soon what exactly this thing I’m supposed to know is, I will scream,’ you clench your jaw and take a shaky breath. 

This can’t be happening. They are not moving into your house with you. Yoona won’t do that to you, not after your talk this morning. Right? You close your eyes in frustration, already knowing the answer to your own question. She will. 

‘Such a drama queen,’ a new voice speaks up from the door and when you turn your head, already seeing red, you see Minho smirking at you. 

Changbin and Faris look concerned and when you look back at Chan, he actually looks like he’s pitying you. Fuck. 

‘Just say it already.’

‘Well, we’re supposed to move into your new house with you,’ Chan says, confirming it. 

Oh hell no. 

a/n: eeeeeeekkk I'm so excited for this series you have no idea!! I wasn't going to upload till tomorrow, but @staylovesmiley made me flip a coin and here I am at midnight, feeding you the first chapter.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

taglist: @jaeminie-cricket @jeonginsbaee @staylovesmiley @newbbystay @cashtonsbetch @mariahxrrera @kaleigh-2002 @silencionyx @smileykiddie08 @my-neurodivergent-world @yaorzu-blog @yoongiismylove2018 @staytinyluv @bookswillfindyouaway @queen-thiccness @notastraykid @ateez-atiny380 @estella-novella @furfoxsake22 @hyunjinhoexxx @insomnjen @hannahisnotblue @vivilovesuu @velvetmoonlght @skz8love @eastjonowhere @stellmeiv @bookishcaptain @flylis @deadpool15 @0325ale @thatgirlangelb @iknow-uknow-leeknow @nchhuhi @shycreationdreamland @readr1221 @beewilko

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 7

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33

italics are flashbacks

-

Before London

“You buckled up?”

“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.

The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.

“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.

Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.

“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.

“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah.”

“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”

Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.

“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”

“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.

Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment. 

Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked. 

The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.

“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.

“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.

“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.

She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”

Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.

“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.

“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with. 

Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.

I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy. 

For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip. 

“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake. 

“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck. 

“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”

Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”

I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”

Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”

When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.

“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.

For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.

“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.

“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.

“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.

“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.

“Yes. Please.”

I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.

“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing. 

My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.

“Paige,” I cry out.

“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.

“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”

“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”

My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.

Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.

“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.

“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.

“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”

It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-

“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.

-

There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.

“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically. 

“Why aren’t you at practice?”

“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”

“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”

Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.

“Wh-” I start

“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.

I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.

“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.

“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.

“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”

I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.

“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.

I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.

“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.

“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?

My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.

“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.

“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”

For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.

“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”

-

She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible. 

“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.

“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.

“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.

“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.

The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need. 

The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.

I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.

“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”

The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”

“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”

Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”

“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.

“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”

Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.

“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”

“Yooo…”

I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.

“Whatchu need?”

Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.

“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.

I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”

KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”

-

Paige

Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early

That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?

I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.

Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.

-

“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”

My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.

“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.

“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”

“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”

There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.

“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”

“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.

“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying. 

“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.

I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”

“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”

“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”

“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.

“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”

“No, that’s not what I said-”

“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.

“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”

He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.

“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.

“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.

I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”

“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.

“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

-

My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.

“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, is um, is-”

“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.

“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.

Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line. 

“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.

She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”

I can tell that she’s not. 

“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”

She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.

“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”

I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast. 

“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.

“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra. 

“Of what?”

“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.

“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”

“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin. 

“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”

Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath. 

“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”

“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile. 

“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.

“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”

She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”

I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.

Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was. 

This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.

Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it. 

“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”

No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.

“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.

“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”

I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.

“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”

Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.

“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.

Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.

“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.

“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.

A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.

“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled. 

“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.

“Use your words ma.”

“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.

“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”

I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.

“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.

Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way. 

It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.

It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.

“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”

“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”

“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.

“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.

“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”

Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.

“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.

“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”

“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.

“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”

I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”

-

“Okay, Paige, stand here.”

Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.

“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”

“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.

“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.

“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.

“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.

“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”

Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”

I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her. 

“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.

“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.

“Yooo, bro what?!” 

Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.

“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.

“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.

“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.

“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.

“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”

The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.

“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”

“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”

“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.

“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening. 

“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.

“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.

“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.

I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me. 

“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”

Fuck.

I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”

“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.

Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.

“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”

I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.

“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.

“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”

My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.

“Trey, you’re not going to-”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”

I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[pix-writes]

for the nsfw request for Stan and Ford (which tbh is more like a question lol also be completely free to not answer in case you don't want to); what kind of noises do they make? or they don't make a noise at all? Thank you!!

No problem, thanks for asking!

Under cut as is 18+

STANLEY:

He seems like the kind of guy who would grunt and moan a little, he's not quiet but he's not loud either, as he wants to hear his partner's sounds most of all, but sometimes he can't be quiet either cause it just feels too good. (Also likes to hear the squeak or rattle of whatever furniture he's got you placed on/bent over when you get into it, has broken a worn out, shoddy table or two in his time!)

Knows from experience that a lot of partners like him to make some noise 😉 (say thank you to the ladies who taught him this). Though the very point where he does come, he's practically silent. Will pant and groan afterwards though.

Stan in everyday life is sorta what you get in bed too, just more unfiltered, he opens his mouth to say all sorts of dirty things and feedback about how good you're doing/feel and things he wants to do to you and praises you when you respond in the way he wants. Depends on the circumstances though, as if he's totally in the moment he doesn't run his mouth so much. Can also be more playful too, so at times he'll try to make his partner laugh or be totally cheesy (cue awfully obvious rp where he pretends you're some beautiful/handsome stranger), you might get a chuckle out of him as well. On the other hand, if you manage to rile him up enough, Stan will practically growl in your ear 🥴

If it's just him by himself though, he doesn't make too much sound at all, just moans a little, definitely has that depressing post nut clarity and feels a bit guilty for taking himself in hand.

STANFORD:

Tries to control his volume. Is not successful!

This guy is painfully touch starved and is making up for lost time once he's with a partner, so ends up being unable to censor all the sounds that come out of him from feeling someone else's touch. I'd say his volume is about medium, though, as he does have some self-control. However, once he starts to feel remotely close to orgasm, he will get increasingly more whiny. Increasingly desperate towards climax and starts begging you or saying things, it's so garbled though you don't even know if it's proper sentences or just nonsensical babble. Cannot contain his cries of pleasure when he finally does climax! 🤭 (Edge this man if you want but get soundproofing if you do, otherwise even the neighbours will be able to hear what you're getting up to!)

Doesn't talk too much during, mostly lost in it, will keep giving you necessary instruction or feedback, though. Mostly moans, groans and whines, praises you for how good you are/feel. Though, I think once he starts to get into a relationship and gain confidence/experience, will be more able to control his volume and will run his mouth more, if that's something you're into. Will pleasure you and not let you touch him so he can focus on talking you through it 🫠 gets a little cocky once he finds out that you like the sound of his deep voice (what have you unleashed upon yourself??!!!!)

Thinks that his self pleasure is about average but is probably below average, sees it more as relieving stress than for indulgence in fantasies, feels alienated by the way most men would talk about it as it doesn't fit his experiences at all (e.g. thinks most men exaggerate their drive and promiscuity... Probably not wrong, but I hc that Ford is on the ace spectrum somewhere, probably demi sexual, but doesn't know until the twins tell him about lgbt+ identities). Helps him to sleep, though didn't feel safe enough to do it much at all during his portal days, as he was often on the run. Is often intentionally quiet when doing it because he often is in places where the walls are thin or he needs to hear if he might be walked in on (because it's likely to happen; is happy that so far he's never been caught) still moans a lot when he comes though.

[rottiens]

A LOVELY TOUCH┊ISAGI YOICHI

✮ summary. meeting his parents and being in his room for the first time allows you to get to know another side of isagi that you hadn't discovered before.

✮ tags. (18+), established relationship, unprotected sex + creampie, fem reader, petnames, sex toys, praising (that’s my girl), spit, dirty talk. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. 4.3k

Isagi's room is just as you had pictured it in your imagination. The walls are decorated with soccer posters, of some anime with rather colorful characters and of some soccer players you vaguely recognize from having seen them on your phone. The bed is impeccably made, with a navy blue bedspread that matches the two pillows perfectly lined up on top. Next to the bed, a nightstand holds a stack of comics and manga that you fail to identify until you get close enough. In front of the bed, a wall-mounted television is connected to a playstation, ready to be used.

The room, in general, is surprisingly tidy, almost too tidy to be Isagi's. The thought that he probably cleaned neatly because he knew you'd be staying over tonight brings a smile to your face. Throughout your relationship, you had always met at your place or at the hotels he stays at when you visit him out of town, so to be here, in a space that is entirely his, sends a tingle through your stomach that stirs the hunger of your curiosity.

As you flip through the monochromatic pages of one of the manga, you hear the sound of his footsteps approaching down the hallway. The floorboards groan under his weight, and your heart pounds, as if you've been caught doing something wrong. A smile spreads across your face as you see him standing in the doorframe, his silhouette blocking the light coming in from the hallway, giving him an almost cinematic air.

Isagi mimics your smile, mirroring it as he closes the door behind him and steps into the space you now share. It is at that moment that you notice the subtle scent of sandalwood wafting through the air, permeating the atmosphere. The room, completely enclosed and with thick curtains blocking the outside light, has maintained this scent throughout the day.

"What do you think, then?" asks Isagi, with a slight tension in his voice that makes you wonder if his heart is beating as fast as yours.

Isagi's parents turned out to be even more charming than you had imagined. His mother insisted on adding another dish to dinner, even though you had offered to cook for everyone; she even offered to help you wash the dishes, while Mr. Isagi and your boyfriend continued chatting in the dining room a few feet away.

The feeling you are left with is one of warmth and comfort, like a warm blanket wrapped around you after a long winter's day. And that's what you're trying to express, albeit in a simpler, less corny way.

"…I'm happy to have finally met them," you conclude sincerely.

Isagi, who has just hung up his jacket in the closet and is now wearing only a shirt and dark sweatpants, walks up to you and wraps his strong arms around your waist. With the manga completely forgotten, your hands find rest on the back of his neck, and out of instinct, you start stroking his hair. Isagi visibly relaxes at your loving touch.

"'Yeah? I think they really liked you, I was nervous," he says, laughing softly.

"Really, you thought they wouldn't like me?" you tease as Isagi closes his eyes, enjoying your touch.

"Quite the opposite. I thought they might like you more than me," he replies, meeting your eyes again, causing a sparkle to tingle up from your belly to your ribs.

"Your mom is so nice, and your dad is so cool. I think it's adorable how they support you."

It's obvious how proud they are of their son, how far he's come. That was reflected in every topic of conversation they had tonight and in the way their eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Deep down, you're relieved to have their approval, too.

"I had no doubt they would like you. My mother loved the dessert you made too, you're cooking so much better every time."

Isagi guides you towards the bed, interrupting the conversation. He lies down first and invites you to join him with a few pats on the mattress. You crawl onto the bedspread, which stays perfectly in place despite the movement, and lie comfortably on the arm he has extended for you.

"I'm gonna stay all weekend," he says, playing with the silver "I" dangling from your neck. Your eyes instantly light up, and Isagi struggles to contain a mischievous smile that threatens to appear at the corners of his lips.

"You hadn't told me," you murmur, controlling the excitement in your voice. "I thought you had to leave tomorrow."

"'Yeah, I wanted to surprise you." His fingers fiddle with your collarbone and the line of your neck as he says it, only to finally focus his full attention on you.

He watches your reaction closely, delighted that he got this reaction in person, knowing it wouldn't be the same if he'd told you about it over the phone. Then, he leans toward you and kisses you softly on the lips, a fleeting kiss after which he doesn't pull away, allowing you to become drunk on the fresh, woody scent that surrounds him.

"We could go out tomorrow, maybe invite your parents over again and…" you start to suggest, but Isagi interrupts you with another soft kiss that instantly makes you close your eyes. Your hand rests on his chest, feeling his heart dance against his ribs, as his palm rests on your waist.

"I'd love the idea, but right now I don't wanna do anything but hold you close."

The physical contact instantly ignites your skin, and the tone of his voice alerts your senses to what might be coming. But you're still curious to explore more of his space, so you add, "Your room…" he chuckles, probably guessing what you're going to say next. "It's very organized."

"Does that surprise you?" Not really, but the attention to detail does. Everything looks impeccable, you know he's put a lot of thought into it. "I've learned a few things about keeping my place in order with Barou."

"Oh, yeah, you guys were roommates before."

"Uh huh. He wanted to kill me when he found my shoes where they were not supposed to be, or my jacket on the couch when I got home late from training."

You laugh at the mental image of an angry Barou chasing Isagi with his shoes in hand around the apartment, though you remain aware of Isagi's touch, of how his fingers gently trace lines on the skin of your stomach, which your now somewhat disheveled top reveals.

The room is enveloped in a comfortable silence, broken only by the faint whisper of the fan on the ceiling. You've settled into his chest, with his heartbeat providing a steady, soothing rhythm that almost lulls you to sleep. Yet your eyes roam the room with a newfound curiosity, lingering on details you had previously overlooked, as if you want to unravel a little more of what this space can reveal to you about him.

Near the door, the closet remains ajar, revealing a glimpse of its interior. The shirts are lined up with almost millimeter precision, but it's the bottom corner that captures your attention. Between a pair of worn sneakers and a backpack that has seen better days, a cardboard box with worn corners peeks out, partially hidden.

Your curiosity piqued, you sit up slightly, trying not to disturb the moment.

"What's that?" you ask quietly, pointing to the box with a slight nod of your head.

Isagi follows the direction of your gaze and sketches a shy smile, as if you've found something he'd forgotten. "Oh, that… it's just a box with some old things, souvenirs and such."

His answer is simple, but his tone piques your interest even more. You slide gently from his side, the mattress emitting a slight creak under your weight as you stand up. " Can I see it?" you ask, wariness mingling with growing curiosity.

Isagi chuckles softly, shaking his head with a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Sure, but there's not much, really."

You make your way to the closet and kneel down in front of the box. You carefully pull it out, surprised by its unexpected weight. You place it on the floor in front of you and, as you lift the lid, a rush of nostalgia seems to flood the air.

Inside, you find a variety of objects: a pair of soccer tickets yellowed by time, photos of a younger Isagi alongside friends you don't recognize, and a scarf of his favorite team, still vibrant in its colors. There's a small trophy, probably from some school competition, and a keychain that looks like it was purchased on his first major trip away from home. Each object seems to be loaded with history and meaning, as if they were pieces of a puzzle that together reveal the essence of who he is now.

Your fingers stop on one photograph in particular, where a teenage Isagi smiles broadly, holding a ball with his hand raised in victory. Beside him, a childhood friend embraces him with the same energy. The happiness on his face is so genuine that you can't help but smile too.

"This is adorable," you say, holding up the photo so Isagi can see it from the bed.

He gets up and comes over to you, sitting down next to you on the floor. "That was a good time," he comments, his voice laden with nostalgia as he takes the photo from your hands to look at it more closely. "We won that match by sheer luck, but it was one of the best days of my life."

Your attention is diverted to another object in the box, a small notebook with worn edges. You delicately open it, finding inside scribbles, small drawings and notes that Isagi probably wrote when he was a teenager.

"You've kept all this for how long?" you ask, fascinated by the amount of memories he's accumulated.

"Since forever, I think," he replies, laughing lightly. "I'm not one to usually hold on to the past, but some things are worth keeping. I like to remember them from time to time."

You close the notebook and put it back in the box, feeling like you've just discovered a side of Isagi you may not have been fully aware of. As you do so, something else at the bottom of the box catches your eye. It's the thick edge of what appears to be a red book. Curiosity leads you to slide your fingers along it and pull it out for a better look. The objects on top offer resistance, but without giving up, you manage to pull it out.

"Oh," Isagi murmurs as you realize that it's not a book you've pulled out, but a stack of magazines that, under the light of the bulb, reveal their true nature.

"Yoichi?" you ask, covering your mouth with your hand to contain the laughter bubbling in your stomach while at the same time showing the magazine in his direction.

"Fuck." His cheeks flush red, and you've never seen him so nervous. Immediately, he tries to snatch them from you, wrestling you with the box in between.

"Let me see them!" you laugh, louder this time, enjoying the rare sight of seeing him so distressed.

"Stop, it's embarrassing! Don't open them!" he insists, desperate, as you try to wriggle away from him, the porn magazines now scattered around you.

In the struggle, his foot buckles and he loses his balance, falling on top of you and crushing you to the floor. Your hands are trapped above your head, imprisoned, and the magazines fall open, revealing their stained pages beside you.

" Can I explain?" he says, his voice trembling between embarrassment and nervous laughter.

"Well?" you ask, biting your lip to keep from laughing again.

You watch him as he struggles to find the right words, finally giving up with a sigh. "It was a gift from a friend."

"And you kept them?" you ask, arching an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Well, yes…" he mumbles.

You laugh again, not because you're judging him, but because seeing him so grief-stricken over something he tried to hide, but which is really no big deal, is adorable. It's rare to see him in this state of vulnerability, and you can't help but enjoy his discomfort a little. Your laughter grows with his fingers starting to tickle you, and your eyes fill with tears as you beg for mercy. Finally, Isagi pulls away, sitting back on his heels, victorious as the air from the fan ripples his hair.

"It's okay, check them if you want. I'll go pee, but don't touch anything else until I get back," he says, his voice tinged with faux authoritarianism.

His words only fuel your desire to explore more. You sit back down, the magazines now forgotten on the floor, as you scan the room for something else you might discover. But finding nothing that captures your attention, you momentarily give up, remembering that you probably have missed messages from your mom asking how dinner went. Your phone, deep in your pocket, had died halfway through dinner.

"Babe, where's your charger?" you yell, heading for the nightstand. You open the drawer and what you find is more than you expected. It's a treasure trove, exactly what you were looking for to piss him off even more.

"Fuck me," Isagi mutters from the doorway, his tone a clear sign of resignation.

"A fleshlight?" you exclaim, completely shocked. There's not even any intention of joking now. "I didn't think you were the type to use toys… I thought you didn't like them."

Isagi advances towards you quickly, but you hide it behind your back just in time. He stops, measuring his next steps.

"It was a joke," he explains, his voice laden with embarrassment.

"What kind of joke?" you ask, genuinely curious.

Isagi shakes his head, trying to organize his thoughts. "The guys thought it would be funny. It was a 'joke' because… well, because I was a virgin and stuff. Now, give it to me."

Isagi takes a step forward, but you step back, finding yourself pinned against the bed.

"Did you use it?" you ask, your eyes full of genuine wonder as you try to keep your cool.

Before you can run away or have time to react, Isagi advances towards you with the speed and precision he only shows in the field. His eyes, tinged with a deep blue full of determination, bore into yours, revealing an expression you have rarely seen, a mixture of defiance and desire. Effortlessly, he manages to lay you down on the mattress, his weight taking you prisoner as he reaches for the object hidden behind your back. He teases you again with tickling, and new tears of laughter form in your eyes.

"Fine! Fine, I give up! But first…" you say with a chuckle, noticing how he raises an eyebrow tentatively, as he pulls away and is completely seated on top of you, you notice small beads of sweat forming a crown on his forehead. "I need to know if you've used it."

Isagi licks his upper lip, his heart beating rapidly. He shouldn't feel embarrassed, but there's something uncomfortably intimate about admitting it in front of you, as if crossing an invisible line.

"Yes," he replies simply, his voice barely a whisper.

"Thinking about me?"

The room is plunged into a thick, tension-laden silence. Isagi looks at you, his eyes roaming over every detail of your face.

"Yes," he confesses, his words full of honesty. You lick your lips, struggling to keep your breathing under control.

"What were you thinking?" you ask, your voice low, barely audible in the charged atmosphere of the room.

Isagi takes a moment before answering, his eyes scanning yours for any clues. Finally, he leans in a little closer, his face close to yours, and in a barely audible whisper, he answers you.

"I was thinking about you… riding me, then me fucking you sideways, toying with your clit. Fuck, I remember it so clearly," he says, his voice deeper, charged with a mixture of desire and vulnerability you've never heard before.

The confession leaves a shiver running across your skin, and for a moment, the air in the room seems to grow thicker, heavier. His words, so simple yet so loaded with meaning, make you feel a mix of emotions. All you can do is look at him, contemplate this man who has somehow become so essential to you, so intimately tied to your life that imagining a future without him seems impossible.

"I want to see you use it…" you whisper, your words full of desire, stripped of any trace of teasing. The question hangs in the air, waiting for his answer.

Isagi takes a shaky breath, and you can feel his hips push against your abdomen, letting you know exactly what he thinks about the idea. The tip of his nose brushes against yours in an intimate gesture, but then he stops, reluctantly pulling away.

"Okay…" he sighs with resignation. Though you lick your suddenly dry lips now, and silently moan at the loss of his warmth when he pulls away, your skin begins to tingle with anticipation. Before you, your boyfriend peels off his shirt in one fluid motion, dropping it carelessly to the side. The sight of his naked torso, bathed in the soft light of the room, makes your heart pound, building anticipation and tension in the air.

"Do you have any lube?" you ask, your tone anxious, straining to keep your eyes fixed on his and not on the noticeably tight bulge under his boxers as he finally strips out of his pants.

Isagi gives a slight nod of his head, gesturing towards the bedside table. "If you'd looked a little harder, you would have found it right next to that… thing."

A smile tugs at your lips as you hear him refer to the toy that way, reminding you that, while he's not completely comfortable with the idea, he's willing to experience something new just because you've asked him to. Quickly, you lean over to the nightstand, pushing aside the charger and other items, until your fingers find the bottle of lubricant. You take it and return to bed with excitement pulsing through your veins.

Your legs are folded and wedged between his thighs. You watch anxiously as he holds himself with his hands on the mattress, his back slightly arched back. The sight of the tangle of hair peeking over the edge of his boxers distracts you for a moment, intensifying the desire growing between you both.

"Take it out," you ask, flashlight in one hand, lube in the other.

"You take it out, I thought it was you who wanted to play."

The response makes you bite your tongue, so he was going to make you work for it, you conclude. Good. You set the objects aside and ask him to lift his ass up so you can fully pull his boxers out of him, his free cock bouncing gently on the spot. He was completely hard and you want to tease him about it, comment to him that if he doesn't like the idea so much why is he so hard, but you know he's been thinking about it probably before dinner and that, if he were to toss your panties aside he'd realize you were just as needy so you let it go for now. Just for your own good.

It throbs as you feel your determined hand approach with the bottle of lubricant. You drop a generous amount at the tip, watching as it slowly slides to the base, its viscous texture catching the dim light of the room. Deftly, you reach for the liquid just before it touches the mattress, catching it with your fingers in a precise gesture.

Isagi shudders under your touch, a tremor running through his body more from the warmth of your touch than the coldness of the lubricant. The sticky sound of your hand sliding up and down now accompanies the soft murmur of the fan, creating an intimate symphony that fills the space you share.

You stroke him just a little before taking the toy, Isagi grunts as you press it to the tip, he thrusts his hips up to receive you when you finally slide it down disappearing his cock completely. You dare to give it a few pumps, taking note of every reaction.

"How does it feel?"

"Good," he replies with his eyelids half drooping and his jaw clenched.

Tentatively you give another deep thrust, the lewd sound of the toy filling the room with its wet, provocative echo. Then, you pull it out completely, and you can't help but watch as his cock drips pre-cum mixed with the lube, creating a tantalizing gloss on the tip. Isagi moans at the lack of attention, his voice laden with need, but it doesn't take you long to re-wrap his cock with the plastic, resuming a rhythm you know he loves.

"You're doing such a good job…" you murmur, fascinated as you watch him lose himself more in the moment, clearly surrendered to the pleasure you're giving him.

You liked it, you must confess. The power it makes you feel to see him like this, it was just like when you were masturbating him, he could reason, but for some reason there's something different about using a toy in between, the whole new scenario has you in a thick cloud of frenzy, your movements speeding up, determined to make him cum. His brow furrows, his lips part.

"Yes? Do you like being in control?" asks Isagi, his voice husky with a mixture of curiosity and desire.

You just mumble something inaudible, caught between the intensity of the moment and the proximity of his body. Before you can add anything else, however, Isagi rises, his movements fluid and confident. His hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he draws you closer, his lips only inches from yours, like a promise of an approaching kiss. "You like fucking me?"

"Yeah… fuck, I wanna watch you cum."

"Do it. Fuck me harder, cmon. Use me."

With both hands on your cheeks, he traps you in an intimate kiss, a heady mix of lust and love. His lips move urgently over yours, his tongue tangling in yours as his teeth gently punish your lower lip. Isagi's moans grow louder, each one charged with desire, as he inevitably nears climax.

"I'm not cumming…" he growls. "Not anywhere else but in your pussy."

Before you can react, Isagi takes your hand firmly, pushing the fleshlight aside. With a fluidity in his movements, he gently lays you down against the bed, his body pressing against yours. One hand rests on your neck, the touch warm and reassuring, while the other descends to your clit, caressing it in slow, long circles. The air becomes thick with anticipation and desire, each brush igniting your senses and leaving you breathless.

"No more games." The determination on his face is exhilarating, it has you throbbing and clenching around his fingers stretching you.

In a moment, Isagi gets rid of your bottoms and underwear and spits on his hand to wrap his cock with saliva, his hips exerting weight on your thighs open you wider for him and then you feel the tip part the walls of your pussy, your mouth opens slightly.

"There's nothing like this pussy."

Then, with one precise movement, Isagi slides inside you, so deep it takes your breath away for an instant. The sensation fills you completely, eliciting a choked moan in your throat. He doesn't move fast, but begins to roll his hips, creating a friction that makes you shudder. At the same time, his fingers continue to torture your clit in slow, deliberate circles, sending waves of pleasure that make you arch your back, letting the moment consume you completely.

"I'm almost there… but I need you to cum with me," he gasps.

You can only nod in desperation, begging him wordlessly to keep up the pace. But, without warning, Isagi pulls out, wrenching a frustrated moan from you before you can protest. With almost ruthless precision, he flicks your clit with the tip of his cock, drawing an unexpected cry of pleasure from you. Then he lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder in a new position that allows him to go even deeper. Without further warning, he begins to thrust hard into you, the rhythm now brutal, as if he is determined to bring you to the edge of your orgasm. Each thrust is a promise broken and fulfilled at the same time, a movement that seeks both his release and yours, as you feel yourself collapse in shared ecstasy.

"There's nothing like this fucking pussy," Isagi murmurs between clenched teeth, his voice laden with desire as his lips land on your heel with a sweetness so intense it leaves you breathless. The contradiction between the brutality of his thrusts and the tenderness of his gesture makes you feel dizzy. "Lets cum together, baby."

His words sound like a request, but his raw passion, along with the strokes that spread throughout your body, feel like a command you can't refuse, even if you wanted to. Your back arches, and an electric current runs down your spine, tangling in your insides and exploding in an explosion of colors like fireworks. A few thrusts later, Isagi is chasing you, cumming inside you as he showers you with praise and how good you always are to him.

"That's my girl, there you go," he says sweetly as he kisses your throat, moves up to your jaw and concludes on your lips with tiny kisses that he scatters all over your face, tickling you.

"Stop!" you laugh as he gently bites your cheek for the sole purpose of teasing you.

"Don't run away from my kisses, c'mere!" Isagi squeezes you against his arms, from which you can't escape, as he continues to shower you with kisses and nibble you gently in every corner he can reach with his teeth. He doesn't stop until you surrender in his arms and kiss him back as you tousle the sweaty strands of his hair.

"Let's take a shower and go to sleep," you murmur sleepily. "I'm exhausted."

"Yeah, let's do that," he says, giving you one last kiss on the lips as he squeezes your cheeks.

"Maybe we can use the toy aga—"

"Don't even think about it."

[27spoons]

Dizzy on the Comedown | Natalie Scatorccio

summary: Denial is a river in Egypt.

pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

based on: pretty girls - reneé rapp

warnings: smut (afab!reader), internalized homophobia (nat), period typical homophobia (if you squint), ambiguously queer!reader, angst in my pants, I know nothing about soccer

a/n: technically you can read this part without reading part one but you should read part one anyway <3

wc: 5540

part one / ao3

The chair next to you is empty. 

Again.

It's been empty all week, and despite your best efforts at convincing yourself that it's fine, you can't stop the void from weighing on your conscience. Sure, missing one day was fine. Normal, even. It isn't Natalie if she doesn't miss at least one class a week. 

But there's something about how she's been dodging your calls, the fact that this is the second day in a row she's conveniently missed the one class you two share, and the nagging pit in your stomach that says this absence feels different. 

You try to focus on the lecture—something about the economic structures of ancient civilizations—but the professor’s voice fades into the background.

You knew this would happen. You knew it would end up hurting one or both of you. For once, you're grateful your seat is in the back of the lecture hall because it lets you close your eyes and press your head into your palms in frustration.

The remainder of the lecture is spent in thought, wondering how the hell you're supposed to repair a relationship when the other person doesn't even talk to you.

Ugh.

By the time the lecture ends, your head is far too busy, wondering why the hell she's avoiding you instead of just talking about whatever—

Nope. Actually, that's perfectly in character, now that you think about it. Why talk about things when you could just wall yourself off and refuse to converse over what you deem problematic?

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up from your seat and throw on your backpack, making record time back to your dorm. 

Your first order of business? The soccer schedule Nat gave you at the start of the season.

She has a game tonight. 

Perfect.

If she won't talk like adults, you'll ambush her after her soccer game ends. Either way, you two will talk about this, whether she likes it or not.

You glance down at your watch as you arrive at the soccer field.

4:50, the analog clock flashes back at you—ten minutes to match start.

Truthfully, you've never been that big of a soccer fan. Despite attending most of Nat's soccer games since high school, you don't understand the game. You just know she kicks a ball around a field over the course of an hour and a half. Should you have learned a thing or two by now? Probably. Oh, well. That's a thought for another night. You don't need to understand the game's dynamics to understand that more goals equals win, and winning is good.

Rather than sitting in your usual spot, right behind Nat's bench, you sit in the middle of the bleachers, right in a mess of people, out of view unless you're actively searching the stands for someone. 

When the teams come out onto the field, your eyes find Nat immediately jogging out behind some girl with black hair and tan skin. Instinctively, you shrink further into the crowd as if she would even end up looking your way—because why would she? You know the areas that her friends usually sit in—and you're far from any of them. Regardless, you tug your hood up all the same and hunch over slightly in your seat. 

Right after halftime passes, you make the mistake of stretching your arms above your head in an attempt to relieve the tension that's started building in your back since you began hunching your back. And, of course, that just so happens to be the exact point of time Natalie looks up into the stands as she sets her water bottle down.

Good going. Your one goal was to be stealthy.

You tense slightly, and you honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't her just… glancing away and heading back out to the field. Or… maybe you should have expected it. She has a game to win, after all. What was she supposed to do? Ditch the game and start talking to you?

Either way, you notice she doesn't play nearly as well as she did in the first half. A part of you wonders if you're partially at fault for that.

By the time the game ends, the team manages to come out on top, one to nothing. You're not that big of an asshole that you'd interrupt a post-game celebration, but the second you see the team part and head to the changing rooms, you try and make a beeline for the familiar mop of bleach blonde hair mingling in the mess of soccer players. Yet, she's gone before you can grab her shoulder and talk.

Goddammit.

You suppose she doesn't play soccer because she's slow. 

But you'll be damned if she manages to slip past you again tonight.

You spend a good thirty minutes pacing outside one of the entrances to the locker rooms, already knowing that you could have very well missed her by now if she slipped out the opposite exit, but that's a chance you're willing to take.

She usually takes a shower after a game, anyway. It's not odd for her to spend a little longer in the showers, but thirty minutes is a little excessive. 

Still, in all your wisdom, you decide you'll wait an hour at the most. Not like you have anything better to do tonight, anyway.

By the forty-five-minute mark, you start debating your sanity.

By the fifty-minute mark, you start debating leaving—

The door opens. "Natalie!" You say immediately, pushing off the wall and walking in quick strides towards her, "Nat! Hold on!"

The girl scoffs and keeps walking away, shaking her head in annoyance. "Oh my God. I knew you were gonna try something when I saw you in the stands today."

"You've been avoiding me!" You yell back, "What the fuck was I supposed to do? You haven't been showing up to class, you've been avoiding my calls… I mean, what the fuck was I supposed to do?"

"I don't know!" She calls back, not bothering to stop and look at you, "I think that maybe you should have waited until I came to you!"

"We both know you wouldn't have, Natalie! You would—" You quicken your stride again, "Fuck! Would you slow down for two seconds?! Or at least look at me when I'm talking to you?"

"If you can't say what you need to say while I'm walking, then it probably isn't even worth saying!" She responds with a humourless chuckle, "Not like I'm running away! Just walking!"

You huff at that, forcing out air through your nose. "Natalie." She keeps walking, "Natalie!" You finally snap, reaching out to grab at her wrist, "Stop fucking walking for a minute!" A beat, "Please." The last comment comes out slightly more desperate than you intend it to, but you don't know what you'll do if she doesn't talk about this with you, "Please, Nat." You breathe out, fully leaning into the desperation at this point, "Fuck, I… I can't lose you over something like this."

That makes her pause despite her initial struggle when you grabbed her wrist. She still doesn't face you, but she does stop walking. 

"You…" You can see the way her face contorts in an expression similar to pain, "You aren't gonna lose me over this."

"Then just…" A shaky sigh, "God, Nat. Just talk to me. Please. Stop… running—literally—just… just talk to me." You release her wrist after a moment longer, drawing your hand back to your side. 

"I can't." She whispers, "God… I just… I can't, okay?"

"Why not, Natalie?!" You can't help how your voice breaks on her name, "Why not?? We used to tell each other everything! When did that change?"

"It hasn't, okay?!" Nat snaps, turning around to look at you. "It hasn't changed! I'm just not ready to talk about this right now! Why can't you accept that?!"

"Because I know you! And I know that you'll just keep fucking avoiding this until it kills us!"

"Oh, wow." She scoffs, immediately throwing up those barriers you've become so accustomed to. "Y'sure think real highly of yourself, huh? That us not talking would kill me? Wow."

"You know that's not what I meant!" You hiss out as you take a step forward, "You know damn well I meant "killing our relationship," not… literally killing us!" You throw your hands up in equal parts frustration and confusion as to why she's acting like this, "Natalie, you have to know I'm not about to force you into a role or something—"

She slaps a hand over your mouth, "Would you lower your voice?!" She hisses at you, glancing around the area to see if anyone overheard, "Fuck! And, no, you aren't forcing me into a "role" because I'm straight!"

You yank her hand off of your mouth, "Natalie, you—!" You two enter a whisper-yelling competition, "Natalie. In case you fucking forgot, you were—" You glance around the area briefly, still focusing on watching your voice, "—tongue-fucking-deep in my fucking vagina the other night!"

Nat blushes furiously at the comment, jaw-dropping, and her entire body freezes. 

But, hey, you're already on a roll. "And, as far as I'm fucking concerned, straight chicks don't spend hours fucking her "best friend"—who is a woman—and fucking enjoy it!"

Her jaw remains on the floor as you finish speaking, and you really don't know what to do from here, but you really don't want her to walk off yet, so you do the reasonable thing.

You grab her face and draw her in for a kiss.

The kiss lasts about five seconds, in which she doesn't kiss you back at all, so you release her face and take a step back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. "I—"

Her hand connects with your face with a loud THWACK, causing your head to flick to the side in shock, despite it not being that hard or hurtful.

Your hand moves to the cheek she hit, and it's your turn to drop your jaw. "Did you just… hit me?" You ask in equal parts, shock and reluctant arousal. 

Nat's mouth opens and closes a few times—as if she can't believe what she did either. "I… yes?"

A beat, an exasperated huff, "You don't even know if you hit me??"

"No! I mean… I know I hit you! I just…" She presses a hand to her head, just as confused as you are, apparently. "I didn't expect to hit you!"

"Well… you did??" You blink a few times as you try to recollect yourself, "Why??"

"I don't know?!" She yells back, "I don't know, okay?! I just—!" She groans in frustration, throwing her hands in the air. "Fuck, you piss me off!" And you think that she's about to storm off or hit you again, but she does something very unexpected and very appreciated— 

She grabs your face and kisses you. Properly this time. You hesitate only a moment before you return the kiss, hands immediately wrapping around her waist to draw her closer to your body.

The kiss is short-lived but intense, tongues pressing against each other in a flurry of want, Nat pressing up onto her toes to deepen it further, body pressing flush to yours as her arms wrap themself around your neck in a tight hold.

When the kiss breaks, her face remains close to yours. "Take me back to your dorm." She murmurs against your lips, warm breath fanning over your face. 

You hesitate for a moment, shaking your head minutely. "Nat, we… we need to talk about this—"

"Later." She cuts you off, "Please, later. I promise I'll talk about it with you." A beat, and she looks up at you with wide eyes, "You know I'm good on my word."

And, for all Nat is, she is good on her word. If she says she'll do something, she'll do it.

Another moment of hesitation, a quiet breath leaving your lips, "Y-yeah. Yes. Rachel is always at her boyfriend's place, anyway. We'll have the place to ourselves."

A small grin quirks on Natalie's lips, "Oh, boy. A twin-sized bed in a dorm with walls thinner than paper, all to ourselves. I can't wait."

You scoff and roll your eyes, detaching yourself from her hold, "You're the one that suggested my dorm room, asshole. We could have gone to yours."

She gives an exasperated pout, "But my dormmate is always home. And she snores."

You nudge your head in the general direction of your dorm, "Whatever. C'mon, before I change my mind."

"We both know you won't do that, though." She hums alongside you.

The second you two are in your dorm room, your backpacks are on the floor, and clothes are being quickly discarded.

"For the record," Nat murmurs as she throws her shirt off over her head, "I'm not—"

"Nope!" You cut her off as your hands move to your belt, "Don't wanna hear you say some shit like "I'm not gay" again after the conversation we just had."

The blonde scoffs and rolls her eyes, "I wasn't gonna say that." She falls back onto your bed and wiggles out of her pants, "I was gonna say "I'm not sure how much fun doing this in a twin-size is gonna be" if you would have let me finish."

A grin crosses your face, "Oh, trust me. I fully plan on having you finish multiple times tonight." You shoot her an overexaggerated wink, which earns you a (barely restrained) giggle and eye roll, with her pants being thrown at you. "Hey!" You catch her pants as they hit your chest, "You walked into that one. Only person you can blame is yourself."

"You talk so much, you know that?" She props herself up on her elbows and looks over you, "And you still have far too many clothes on. That needs to change."

"Yeah, I would have been more naked if someone hadn't thrown her pants at me." To tease her a little more, you spend your time folding her pants and delicately placing them on a chair, then do the same with her shirt that was discarded on the floor.

"Dude." Nat groans, "Seriously?" You see her kick her leg out at you through the corner of your eye, and a smirk twitches its way onto your lips as you continue the methodical process of folding clothes. And, much to the dismay of the half-naked girl on your bed, when you start stripping, you give your clothes the same treatment.

"You're fucking with me." She deadpans, eyes narrowed. "You have to be." 

You hum, "I'm just ensuring our clothes don't get wrinkled." 

Nat looks at the unfolded, clean laundry sitting in a heap at the foot of your bed, then back to you. "You have to be fucking with me."

"What can I say? I've decided I should start changing my habits. Starting now."

You get the sense she wants to give you a smart comment but then decides that if she did that, it would likely result in more of your teasing, so she opts for a frustrated huff instead. "Asshole." She grumbles under her breath, crossing her arms petulantly as she collapses back onto the mattress.

You grin as you pad back over to the bed, now in nothing but your underwear, "Yeah. But you knew that before you came back with me." You clamber onto the bed so that you're hovering over her, caging her to the bed. "So, once again, only yourself to blame."

"Yeah, I know." She murmurs, reaching up to wrap her arms loosely around your shoulders, "I seem to be making a lot of interesting choices lately."

"Interesting, but not bad?" You begin to press kisses to the side of her neck, slow and exploratory. 

"Mmm…" She moves her hands, one tangling in your hair, the other coming to rest on your shoulder, "No. Not bad. I make a lot of bad choices, but…" She hesitates, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she bares her neck for you. "No. I don't think this is one of them."

The grin that crosses your face is inevitable, and you pause your actions briefly as you reflect on the comment. "Good." After a long moment, you whisper against her skin, "That's…" You smile wider, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "Good. That's good. I'm happy you think that."

"You're so cheesy." She pushes your shoulder back slightly so she can see your face, and a smirk appears when she sees your soft, warm smile. "And you're grinning like a dork."

"Can I be happy for thirty seconds? Is that allowed?" You run your hands up and down her sides, which immediately turns into her giggling and trying to get away from you, swatting at your hands. "Oh? Ticklish, Scatorccio?" 

"Asshole!" She laughs, trying to grab your hands. "S-stop! You know I'm ticklish!"

You shake your head, the grin now becoming more unhinged, "Nope! This is what you get for not letting me have a moment! I was trying to be cute!"

"N-no!" She laughs louder, eyes squeezing shut as her attempts remain futile. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I t-take it back!"

You laugh at that, enjoying the way she's squirming under you. And… it's nice. It's really nice, actually. Because this feels more like how a situation with your best friend should be, not… whatever happened at that party.

In your slight haze of thought, you pause long enough for Nat to shove you off of her, pinning you down instead. "Yes!" She laughs triumphantly, grabbing your wrists and holding them to the bed as she straddles your waist, "My turn!"

"Not ticklish, Scatorccio!" You laugh, shifting your hips up under her, both trying to get her off of you and trying to grind yourself against her. "But you're welcome to try!"

"Everyone is ticklish!" She lets go of one of your wrists, moving her hand to your waist and beginning her assault, "I'll prove it!" She laughs, warm and happy.

Admittedly, it's a sound you've missed. You've missed hearing her laugh.

But you still aren't ticklish.

You lay there and let her try, to no avail. "You're so fucking boring." Nat murmurs once she realises she won't be getting you to crack, and she collapses back onto the bed beside you. 

You turn to face her, propping yourself up on an elbow, your free hand trailing to rest on her stomach, "No, I'm just not ticklish. Hell, I touch you the wrong way right now, and you're gonna be giggling." You almost prove your point, but Nat glares at you and grabs the hand you have on her stomach, her expression telling you No.

"Mmmmm… but I'm feeling nice right now. So I won't. Because I'm nice." You grin down at her, and she rolls her eyes and releases her hold.

"Good. Because I'll kick your ass, I still have my cleats in my bag, don't make me use them." A quick glance at her soccer bag, and you briefly consider how long it would take Nat to push you off of her and grab her cleats, holding up her end of the promise.

Until she grabs your face with one of her hands, making you face her. "I'm joking." She murmurs, thumb brushing against your cheekbones. "Didn't I say you think too much?" And she pulls you in for a kiss, far more tender than you would have imagined it to be. 

"Also said I talk too much—" You mumble against her lips, which earns you a harsh pinch on your hip, a clear sign to shut up and kiss me, if you've ever seen one. 

So, you do. What can you say? You're a people pleaser at heart. 

Her lips part to make way for your tongue, and the kiss quickly escalates from there.

Natalie’s hands slide from your shoulders to your back, pulling you closer to her as her lips move against yours with increasing urgency. Her nails dig lightly into your shoulder blades, seeking a path downwards to the clasp of your bra. The second she gets it off, her hands shift to your front, squeezing your breasts greedily.

You smirk into her lips as your tongue presses against hers, saliva mixing together as your right hand flattens against the smooth expanse of her stomach, index gently tracing a small scar just below her rib cage.

She tenses slightly when you brush against the scar and immediately grabs your wrist and guides it lower, down to the waistband of her panties. You hesitate somewhat, but when she squeezes your wrist, you take that as encouragement and dip your fingers below the waistband, fingers quickly beginning to circle the area around her clit, but not quite touching it.

Blunt nails dig into your wrist, but she never breaks the kiss, despite the apparent frustration with your teasing in the way she grabs at you. A smirk makes its way onto your face as you detach your lips from her mouth, attaching them to her jaw, then slowly trailing them down her neck, savouring how she tilts her head to give you better access.

The second you bite down on her neck, attempting to suck a mark into the pale skin, you feel her tug your head back, "N-no. No marks." Nat mutters breathlessly, "Please. Just… nowhere visible." 

"Nowhere visible?" You parrot, considering that for a moment, "I can work with that." Continuing to press kisses to her neck, you agree to her terms and don't leave any marks, but you can't find it in yourself to remove your lips from the smooth expanse.

She seems pleased with the fact you're being so agreeable about that and lets out a quiet sigh, "Good. Now stop teasing."

A laugh is pulled from your throat, "Remember what I said last time? Gotta build that tension. Makes the release ten times as good." But, once again, you are a people pleaser. Specifically, a Natalie pleaser, and you let your fingers brush against her clit once, twice, then you start properly playing with the bundle of nerves.

Nat lets out a hum of appreciation as her fingers come to tangle in your hair, encouraging the way you press your face into the side of her neck as your fingers move, attempting to find a suitable rhythm. Once you do, you let out an appreciative groan at the way her hips grind down into your hand, trying to chase whatever you can give her. 

"Fuck," You murmur against the side of her neck, "God, you're so fucking wet." A shiver makes its way down your spine at the wet sounds you're pulling from the region, coupled with the short, sharp breaths Nat is taking. 

The breathless moan that parts from Nat's lips has you closing your eyes and focusing on your movements, brows furrowing in concentration. Your fingers leave her clit, sliding down through her wetness, then you're sliding two fingers into the warm opening, "Oh, God." You breathe out as your fingers sink down to the knuckle, "You feel so good."

"Not so bad yourself." Nat tries to quip back, but it comes out far too breathless to land the way she intends it to. "You're, ah, good at this." She murmurs out, almost like an afterthought, and you scoff and roll your eyes at the comment.

"Thanks." You mumble back, "I aim to please." 

And, well, you sure as hell aim for that goal.

Two fingers turn into three, Nat's breathless gasps and small whimpers pull from her throat at an increased rate, and it's not long until her nails are digging into your wrist hard enough to sting. 

You get the message pretty quickly. 

"Yeah—" You exhale, mouth trailing back up to her lips, "Wanna feel you come on my fingers." A kiss to the corner of her lips, "Wanna fucking feel you come on my fingers."

A small whimper leaves her lips, and her back arches, "F-fuck, keep doing that, and I will—"

You press your lips against hers, all teeth and tongue and oh god she's whimpering against your lips and—

You feel the way she clenches around your fingers in pulsations, the way her entire body tenses, then slowly relaxes as the pulses subside.

Before you can stop yourself, you retract your fingers from her and immediately press them into your own mouth, making a show of cleaning off the digits, pulling them back with a thin string of saliva connecting them to your lips.

Natalie, for the record, seems to find this very attractive. If the way her jaw goes slack and her eyes darken in hunger is any indication, "Jesus Christ." She stares at you, chest heaving with exertion (despite not doing anything other than lying there), and she's dragging your head back down to lock your lips together, desperate and eager. 

One of her hands curls around the nape of your neck, fingers tugging gently on the strands of hair at the base of your head. Her tongue presses itself past your lips, seeking yours, tasting the remnants of her release on your tongue. A gentle groan parts from her, and after a moment, she draws your tongue into her mouth, sucking on it, and whether she's chasing the taste on your tongue or just doing it because she can, you really don't care. It's hot.

She moves to turn onto her side, facing you, and one of her hands moves to rest on your hip, the other remaining at the base of your skull. Nat slowly rocks her hips into yours, "My turn." She breathes out against your lips, the hand on your hip beginning to trace itself lower with clear intent. 

The blonde hesitates slightly when she pulls back, eyes wide and pale cheeks flushed a shade of red. Her tongue peaks out to lick at her lower lip before she speaks, "I… I want you so bad…"

That comment makes you hesitate momentarily; even Natalie senses it wasn't entirely her to drop something like that. You give her a slight look of confusion at her attempt at being sultry but choose not to comment on the out-of-character line.

"Yeah," You breathe out after a moment, deciding just to move on, "Yeah." And you're kissing her again.

Nat moves her fingers under the waistband of your underwear, moving with purpose to find your warm heat, only slowing for half a second when she feels the wetness at the tips of her fingers. She hums into your mouth, seemingly in approval of her findings.

Unlike you, Natalie doesn't tease. Maybe it's because she already knows you're worked up from getting her off, or perhaps she just prefers getting right into the action, but either way? You're not complaining.

No, it's hard to complain when her fingers play with your clit like it's the most fascinating thing in the world to her, flicking the bud and rolling it between her pointer and middle finger with a satisfied grin on her face.

You push at her shoulder when you feel the grin against your lips, "Stop acting all smug." Comes out in a petulant huff, earning you a small giggle and a few quick circles of your clit.

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy I'm making you feel good?" She teases, voice laced with faux sadness.

"You just started, ass." Your hand moves from her shoulder to the back of her neck, "Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Hardly ahead of myself," she muses, fingers starting to move in smaller, controlled circles. "Just remembering what you did last time we did this. You seemed…" She hums to herself, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck, "pretty into it."

A scoff, followed by a squeeze of her nape, "Yeah, hard not to be into it when you have a hot chick's hand between your thighs."

That earns you another giggle, and Nat lets her fingers leave your clit in favour of seeking your entrance. "And, for the record?" She moves her lips to your ear, "It's gonna be a long night."

"That a promise?" You gasp as one of her fingers begins to tease, slowly sliding down, "Or just… a thinly veiled threat?" "Oh, baby." Nat purrs, finger sinking into its destination, "It's a guarantee."

And it sure as hell was.

It's well past noon when you wake up if the light streaming through your curtains is proof enough.

Most notably, there's a warm weight on your chest, and that weight you quickly realise belongs to none other than Natalie Scatorccio.

One hand draped over your waist, head resting on right above your heart. Bleach blonde hair is splayed out across your chest, and a soft smile makes its way onto your face at the sight.

She stayed the night.

The sense of relief that immediately crashes over you is palpable, and you let out a breath that you feel like you've been holding since that night at the party.

You aren't quite sure how long you lay there before you realise she's wearing your shirt like it's the most casual thing in the world, and, specifically, it's the shirt you wore last night. Usually, you're not one for cheesy romantic moments, but that? Oh, that makes you feel real good about yourself. Sure, it could have just been a "this is available" type of thing, but you like to imagine it's something a little deeper than that, even if you are being a little delusional. 

Like all good things, the moment of peace and reflection in the afternoon light comes to an end when Natalie begins to stir on your chest, slowly opening her eyes and coming alive to the world.

"Hey." You murmur out, one of your hands coming up to start playing with her hair, "Good sleep?"

She grunts at that, closing her eyes again and pressing her face back into your chest, "'m still sleepy." 

A warm laugh leaves your chest, and you can see Nat's small smile at your reaction to her mumbled comment, and it makes that fuzzy feeling in your chest return at full force. "Doesn't answer my question, though. Was it a good sleep?"

"Mm." She hums, the hand around your waist tightening slightly. "Yeah, actually. It was." The words come out in a sleepy mumble, and you can't help but feel… content, at least for right now. 

And, honestly? You'd be comfortable letting the silence fester. This is a good silence, not the type of silence that has you begging for an out.

Natalie, however, stirs after a few minutes in silence, giving your waist a soft squeeze. "I…" She sighs, opening her eyes and looking up at you from where her head is perched on your chest,  "Look. I'm gonna be honest with you. I don't…" She removes her hand from your hip and gestures to nothing, "I don't know what I am, alright? I mean…" A humourless chuckle, "I get that I'm not straight. Yeah, I've put the pieces together, but I don't, like, know what I am."

You shake your head, shifting slightly to look at her better, "Hey," you shake your head a few times, "that's okay. You don't need to know right now. It's not like I'm about to make you take a pop quiz on what your assumed sexuality is." The words are light, attempting to convey a joke, but there's also this underlying concern buried underneath. "I'm not about to… force you to label yourself, or anything." A sigh, "I mean… it's… complicated. I dunno. Figuring out who you are." Your fingers continue to run through her hair in a soothing motion, "I'm hardly someone who can, like, guide you down a path of self-discovery, but I'll be here if you need someone to talk to, Nat."

Some of the tension leaves Nat's shoulders at your words, but it's obviously still weighing heavily on her mind. Regardless, she gives you a slight nod and rests her head back on your chest, "Can we just… figure it out later?"

"Yeah." You reply softly, "We can figure it out later, Nat. No rush."

"No rush." She parrots, curling into your side again.

a/n: crush act 2 chapter 1 next trust

You snore when you sleep, by the way." Nat comments after a long few moments in silence.

"What??" You sit up, glancing down at her, "No, I do not." 

She gives you an exasperated huff when you sit up, therefore moving her from her (very comfortable) position on your chest. "Yeah, you do. Now lay back down, asshole. I was enjoying that."

"Not a single person has ever complained about my snoring before."

Nat shrugs, "Then they must not have been paying attention. Because you do." A beat, "And it's loud."

Your jaw drops in shock, and you can hardly believe what she's saying, "I genuinely cannot tell if you're fucking with me or not."

The blonde just shrugs as you lay back down, "Guess you'll have to wait and see, huh?"

"You're an asshole, Natalie Scatorccio."

"And here we are, anyways." She hums, "Here we are."

[jacaerysgf]

Thinking about when Jace got teased by asking if he knew where he had to put his cock in… a fic about it would kill me

a.n: im sure this has been done a million times before but this is my take on it :3 this is prob not as smutty as you probably hoped but i hope you like it <333 only warnings are reader is a northern (no specific house) and oral (fem)

“You do know how the act is done i assume. At least in principle.” You see the way jace tenses next to you and aegon shoots you a pleased look. your face falls, this was not going to be good.

“Where to put your cock and all that.” You place a hand on jaces shoulder but he does not acknowledge you as you can tell he is growing angrier by the second. “Ignore him jace, he’s not worth it-”

“You can play the jester if you wish. but hold your tongue before my bethrothed.” Aegon says not more but you remove your hand from his shoulder as jace gulps down the remainder of his wine. You can tell he’s pissed. His jaw is clenched and his leg bounces up and down, eyes set at the wall.

You hate how hot he looks, how his stare has your thighs clenching together. You have only been betrothed for a few months now. You had taken a trip down to dragonstone to meet him when the trial suddenly was called and you agreed to join him and the rest of his family.

When you place a hand on his thigh his leg stops moving and his head turns towards you, eyes wide. You squeeze his thigh lightly as you lean closer to him, your words hushed. “Do not let him bother you jace.” The look in his eye is dark as they roam around your face and land on your lips. You hold your breath and your hand slips off his thigh as you turn away from him. There was no way he was going to kiss you but you can’t help but feel embarrassed still.

Your attention is quickly taken away by baela who asks you numerous questions about the north and you happily answer all her questions, assuring her you would be more than happy to show her around should she be interested in going there.

The night goes sour and you rush after jace who quickly storms out of the room after being dismissed. You call his name as you sprint down the hall but he does not turn to look at you or stop his movement until you are right next to him, in front of his room.

“Jace-”

Before you even realize it your on the bed with his head under your dress. His tongue lapping at your walls with his hands pressing against your knees to keep them apart. One of your hands covers you mouth while the other grips tightly at the hair on his head, with every pull he lets out a groan that sends shivers up and down your back.

You do not know how you even ended up here. He was just so angry about the whole dinner that he needed something to relieve his stress and he has vowed that has much as he wishes too he will not bed you before your wedding. But this was not him bedding you, he has not stuck his cock where his tongue is plunging in and out it did not count in his eyes.

He always has hated that you had to cover your mouth, always wishing he could just hear you fully but he only has one more moon cycle before he can fully, till then he can settle for the muffled sounds of your delight.

Aegon knew nothing of your relationship he had no clue why he let it bother him so much. He had no clue that jace had you crying his name on his lips more times than he can ever count, hes sure aegon has never even had a women release before but jace sure has and you were living proof.

perm jace taglist <3

@earth4angels @tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @jacesvelaryons @ravenn-darkholme

[xoxomirrorball]

dress

jason grace x fem!reader, characters are all legal

mdni pls!

warnings: hair pulling, swearing, sexual content, unprotected p in v (don't do that!), oral (fem receiving), established relationship ish

The storm outside crackled, lightning flashing against the darkened windows, but inside his cabin, the world felt still. One of his big arms caged your head in against the wall, both of your chests rising and falling with each heavy breath. His other hand radiated heat against your hip, large fingers splayed across the thin, tiny dress you had on. 

The Aphrodite cabin had been hosting a party on the beach, a small bonfire aglow on the sand and music far too loud to be safe for anyone’s ears. Of course, it was broken up by a sudden thunderstorm that had been an effective method to break up parties when it got too late or rowdy in the past, courtesy of Chiron and Mr. D. 

 So, that was how you and Jason found yourselves under the shelter of his cabin, a soft yellow glow emanating from the lamp on his nightstand acting as the only source of light. And damn if the sight of him didn’t turn you on normally, the way he was looking at you know sure did. His lips were turned into a devious smirk, eyes tracing your body as if he was imagining you naked. Granted, he probably was if the pressure against your stomach was any indication.

"You wore this dress for me, didn't you?" His voice was low, roughened by desire and something softer you couldn’t quite decipher. 

A slow smile curved your lips as you met his eyes, deep blue resembling the strikes of lightning dancing across the gray sky. "What if I did?"

His breath hitched. For all the battles he had faced, nothing had ever made him feel as undone as you. He tilted your chin up gently, his thumb tracing your lower lip before he leaned in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that was slow and deep, deliberately made to leave you longing for more. 

Your fingers tangled in his golden hair, pulling him impossibly closer, and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid against yours, big hands grasping your hips and rolling your front against him. You gasped as he nipped your bottom lip, him using that to pull you impossibly closer. His lips detached from yours and trailed down the column of your throat, lingering where your pulse fluttered, his breath warm against your skin.

As he kissed his way further down, he slipped the top of your dress down over your tits, watching them come free before covering one with his mouth, the other being covered by his hand as he licked and sucked one nipple, pinching the other gently. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips, eyelids fluttering shut in pleasure. 

Jason continued his path downward, kissing from your sternum all the way down to your navel through the flimsy fabric of your dress. He didn’t stop at your thighs, continuing down your left leg until he could pry your heels off and toss them somewhere into the darkness on the other side of the cabin. 

“Better,” he mumbled, almost to himself, raking his hands up and down your legs.

The pressure between your legs was getting unbearable and you shifted, whining out, “Jason…please do something.”

The blonde boy just chuckled, savoring the moment as looked up at you from his spot kneeling on the ground. His eyes were hooded and dark, a sultry smirk on his mouth. You squirmed, trying to do anything to relieve the ache but his grasp on your thighs held them apart. Finally, his hands worked themselves under your dress and yanked your panties down, tossing them in the same direction as your heels. 

He pulled the hem of your dress up and pulled your legs apart, making you bare yourself to him. Jason licked his lips and said, “Gonna fuck you with this dress on, but first m’gonna make you cum. Sound good?” 

You hummed in agreement and nodded fervently, fruitlessly attempting to move your hips towards him. His hand lightly slapped the back of your thigh, just under the curve of your ass as he tutted. “Words, sweet girl. Need to hear ‘em.”

“Yes. Yes Jason, yes please. So good. Please,” you begged, hoping and praying he would finally do something. And your prayers were answered as he hiked your legs over his shoulders and attached his mouth to your soaking cunt like a man starving. You moaned loudly at the contact, tossing your head back against the wall. Jason lapped at your pussy, sucking your clit into his mouth, which made you let out a low whine and tug at his hair. He groaned, the vibrations only fueling the fire between your legs. 

One of Jason’s hands came down between your thighs and before you knew it, he had two fingers curling inside of you to hit that perfect spot. His tongue teased your clit as his fingers brushed your g-spot, your hips rocking against his face only spurring him on. 

“Please, Jace, m’ so close, don’t stop,” you mumbled out, nearly incoherent. In response, Jason used his hand on your hip to press your cunt against his face and continue his ministrations. 

Finally, you flew over the edge. Stars danced behind your eyes as you came down from your orgasm, Jason licking up every last drop. When it became too much, you whined and gently pushed his head back. With a smirk, Jason lowered your shaking legs to the ground and stood up, gently nudging his nose against yours. 

“You okay, baby?” he asked, holding you upright against him. 

“Mhm, just need a sec,” you nodded, feverishly pulling his head down to slot his lips over yours. Jason, taken by surprise for a second, quickly met your eagerness and pulled you further against him, allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. The heat in your core began to grow again and you let Jason guide you to his bed. 

You laid on your back, Jason nestling between your legs and kissing you feverishly. 

“Think you can take one more, honey?” Jason asked, breaking the kiss. 

“Yes, definitely. I think you should fuck me right now,” you said, breathlessly. Jason chuckled, pressing a sloppy kiss to your lips before turning you over onto your stomach. You lifted your hips for him, resting the weight of your lower body on your knees. You could hear Jason groan as he pulled the hem of your dress up over your ass and rubbed his hands over your backside. You waited in anticipation as you heard the rustling of clothes, then the drop of his pants against the wooden floors. 

Jason kissed behind your ear and interlocked his fingers with yours with one hand, the other guiding his cock into your walls. He slowly sank into you, both of you releasing a sigh once he bottomed out. He fucked you slowly, one hand holding yours while the other gripped your hip hard enough to leave bruises. 

The tip of his cock brushed that sweet spot inside of you with every thrust, making you cry out each time. Your face was buried into the pillows, your hands clutching whatever was in reach. 

“Faster, Jason, please!” you managed to get out, shoving your hips back against him forcefully. He sped up his thrusts, hips snapping into yours with a fervor you had been longing for. You reached down between your legs to rub circles around your clit, your walls fluttering as you grew close. 

“Fuck, sweet girl. S’good, make yourself cum on me, baby,” Jason instructed, reaching a hand up to grip your hair and pull back. The sharp sting combined with Jason’s harsh thrusts and the pressure you applied to your clit sent you over the edge, moaning his name. Jason followed closely behind, spilling himself inside of you.

As he dropped to the side, you rolled over onto your back and sighed happily. He wrapped his arms around you and tugged you to his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Lemme lay with you for a sec, then I’ll get you cleaned up,” he said, burying his nose into your hair.

[doofsevilinc]

Let Me?

Art Donaldson x reader

Notes: suggestive, fwb-ish, non-tennis AU, university AU, polisci mentioned 😬 first ever work, comments/feedback appreciated 🗣️

Word count: 1k

A/N: sorry for blueballing mike faist call me

Summary: Political science can be a hard major. Everyone needs a distraction sometimes.

Now playing: Play Date - Melanie Martinez

“I’m walkin’ to your house, nobody’s home,

just me and you and you and me alone.”

——————————————————————

Art was so polite. When you first met through your polisci study group friends, he was the perfect gentleman. When you all would go out together, he’d hold the door for you, always pull out your chair when you came back to the table with drinks. You figured he was like that with every girl, your typical midwestern sweetheart.

You couldn’t have caught how his eyes lingered on you when you’d walk past him through the door, or how they drifted downward while you chatted and passed out drinks. No one could. No one suspected it of him. He was too slick about it.

So when the rest of the group wasn’t available and he asked you to help him study for an upcoming test, you thought nothing of it. His roommate would be right next door anyway.

And it really was nice. It was enough to make learning about congressional oversight over the bureaucracy less excruciating. You two laughed a lot (he did at all of your jokes) and he’d smile so sweetly at you that it sort of gave you butterflies. Of course you wouldn’t object when he started only asking for you to study with. You figured it was because you were good at the subject anyway. It’s not like you weren’t getting something out of it too. You had to admit that you liked how he acted like your puppy. He’d do anything you asked, get you whatever snacks you wanted, ever the knight in shining armor. He really was a cutie, especially when got that embarrassed blush on his face hearing his roommate outside the door with the girls he brought back, or the constant EDM blasting from his room.

Midterms were coming up, and you were stressed. You were a high achiever, but studying for 5 classes was a lot to juggle. So of course you took up Art’s offer of a study/chill sesh at his dorm. You knocked, and he opened, wearing his red cap backward, another thing you thought was cute on him. You looked a little past him, noticing the silence. His roommate wasn’t there. Your eyes fell back on him and you noticed that this time he looked more… pensive. He looked tired, his lips looked bitten on. You chalked it up to the time of year. You probably looked out of sorts too. As he held the door and you brushed past him, though, you could feel his eyes on you, stalking you like prey.

You were sat on his bed, and the lack of technobeats in the background made the air feel heavy. Things were more quiet this time as you two once again went through the motions of flipping through flashcards detailing factors affecting political efficacy. It almost felt tense. You weren’t so sure his roommate’s absence was entirely at fault. At some point you put them down and sighed, slumping against the wall.

“I can’t do this anymore. I just wish midterms were over. I feel like I haven’t relaxed in weeks.”

He was still upright, looking at you keenly.

“Yeah. Me neither.”

He put his cards down without taking his eyes off of you.

“I need a distraction. Just for a little. I just wanna stop thinking.”

He huffed in agreement, then paused. Now he looked down. Started biting his lips again. He swallowed.

“I could…help you with that.”

Maybe you were reading too far into the tension in the room, but your mind quickly darted to something…uncivil. Your stomach jumped before you regained your composure. …He was cute. It’s not like in your horny hellscape of a university you hadn’t thought about it before. You had no time for a relationship that could relieve your frustrations, something your major was known for, and which you and your single friends complained about often. It was starting to take a toll. Still, you took the thought out of your head. You just had a dirty mind. That’s not what he meant. He was gonna pull playing cards out of his pocket or something. You laughed a little, lightly, cautiously.

“What do you mean?”

He looked back up, eyes shining, piercing. His face grave, like when you’d came in. It made you feel almost too seen…almost naked. Almost like your minds had gone to the same place.

His eyes went down again, landing on his fingertips, which you hadn’t noticed had reached the edge of your thigh. In fact, you couldn’t focus on much outside of your heart beating in your ears.

“I just…I’ve been really stressed too. Really busy. I mean, the way we all are. Too busy to…you know…” He trailed off a little, his eyes crinkling in an embarrassed huff, softening his features. “And…you know what a good stress reliever is?”

He was hesitant, but the question was rhetorical. The way he said it was enough to give the answer. Your peers talked about their sexual frustrations enough that you knew it was on their minds too.

It was so still that you feared he could hear your heart beating out of your chest. You both being on the same page had caught you off guard.

Your silence caused him to backtrack, trying to read your face. “I mean, we always talk about not having time for dating and wanting hookups and stuff… I just figured since we know each other we could…I don’t know…lend each other a hand.”

You could feel your face getting hot, giddiness rising inside you. Seeing the small smile on your face, and how you watched his fingertips on their trail up your thigh, he seemed to relax.

You felt cheeky. He was into you. “So you wanna help me out?”

“…please?” His eyes turned pleading. “No one’s here.” He said softly, suggestively.

Your face turned even hotter. He was right. You were alone. No one would hear him putting you through the mattress like you’d tried not to imagine before. God, you were getting ahead of yourself. You nodded. He pulled away from you, and the vacant space he left on your thigh felt cold. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he got off the bed, kneeling, and settled between your legs.

He gazed up at you, looking more puppy-like than ever, his wide, desirous eyes a question — a desperate plea.

“Let me?”

[phaticserpent]

Hi!! Are you up to making an NSFW alphabet for Jack Frost (ROTG)? I don’t see much for him in the fandom & it’d be cool to see some written fan content of him! ^^; if not that’s coolio 🫶 Also happy new year ^3^

!! I will do my best! :D

Warning: nsfw, suggestive and implied

NSFW Alphabet of Jack Frost (ROTG)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Truthfully, he's a pretty cuddly person. Years of isolation made him touch starved, after something so intimate and personal, he's clinging to you. His arms would be wrapped around your body, cooling you off because he's extremely cold

B= Body part (favorite body part their own or their lovers)

Oh, definitely his chest and abdomen. He's slightly lanky but fit and toned, not too jacked but not too skinny. He especially loves your touches, your hands running down his chest and torso

C= Cum (anything that has to do with it)

I don't think....he can do that. LISTEN, he drowned in a freezing cold lake, if we're being logical, then he wouldn't be able to. But logistics aside, if he could, he'd accidentally cum inside. Immediately freezing everything as he realized what he did

D= Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory)

I doubt he has any, but after doing it a couple of times, he's developed the strange urge to start a family (I know it's human instincts). It started off as wholesome thoughts, wanting a domestic life with you which slowly began to morph into determination after realizing the process of reaching a domestic life. He wouldn't voice it, but given the amount of times he's finished inside of you and the relentless pursuit is there and a slight hint to it

E= Experience (do they know what they’re doing)

Eh, I feel like he's not experienced at all. Given his situation, he doesn't really understand it. In a relationship with him, you would have to initiate most of the advances, first kiss? You did that. He'd probably look so confused and lost when you asked and said you wanted to take the relationship to the next level. He assumed marriage.

F= Favorite position

Anything where he can see your face and body, he likes seeing you. He's more so fascinated, watching as his cock connects with you, feeling your warm walls squeezing and gripping him tightly as he continues to thrust into you. He finds it addicting - okay but he's definitely a switch though, he likes watching you ride him

G= Goofy (how serious are they)

He's the president of goofy, teasing you and easing up the tension (especially if it's your first time) - he'd crack a couple jokes or two, only if you're feeling embarrassed by something and he wants to lessen that. Nothing has to be perfect, he just wants to make sure that you enjoy yourself

H= Hair (grooming habits)

He wouldn't really have access to razors, but it's pretty clean and manageable

I= Intimacy (in the moment romantic or rough/dirty)

He's a romantic. He may seem cold and feels cold, but he wants to make sure you're comfortable and feeling every inch of him. He would hold your hands as he rocks his hips, pushing into you

J= Jack off (do they masturbate and how often)

To be honest, I don't think I see him doing something like that. I feel like he'd keep his private life separate from the outside, he wouldn't want to risk something like that. But in the confines of your room and house, he'd try if you're not there to help him relieve himself

K= Kink (kinks what they like possibly unusual)

Temperature play, for sure, and marking. He doesn't really know, all he likes is your reaction to things. His cold fingers make you squirm and he likes watching how your nipples harden under his touch. The way your walls flutter around his cock when he marks your neck and shoulder. He's just figuring things out, but he'd be into anything that's for your pleasure (slight breeding)

L= Location (where they like to get it on)

Your room, your house, anywhere private. Your bed and sometimes, if bold enough, the couch and kitchen, bending you over and taking you right then and there

M= Motivation (things that makes them tick/turn ons)

You. Just you. Of course, he takes the time to appreciate soft gestures and moments with you, cuddling and kissing. Again with taking the first step, you mostly have to initiate if you want it or not. Sometimes, he'll get the hint when the kissing begins to turn more hands-on, and your hands slip under his hoodie

N= No (turnoffs or absolutely won’t do)

Anything that hurts you or anything that pushes a boundary between you and him. He knows temperature play can be risky, his touch isn't too cold and his fingers don't exactly freeze your limbs at first touch. But, he's nervous at times and wants to make sure that he doesn't cause any pain (marking is different and so is biting, he mostly started off as little nips here and there)

O= Oral (receiving or giving and how skillful they are)

He's never received nor gave, so he has no clue what he's doing when he goes down on you. But he definitely tries and for some reason, he's good at it. He eats you out like he's starving, wanting more. He doesn't object when you offer to do the same and he's definitely sensitive. Whatever you do, it's pure bliss for him, his head is thrown back, and he's holding onto anything to keep himself grounded

P= Pace (how fast they are and how long they last in bed)

Okay, he's gentle and slow at first. If you ask him to go faster and rougher, he will. He loves hearing you beg and moan louder as he pounds into you

Q= Quickie (do they prefer fast and hard)

Well, it depends. He's not usually fond of it because I feel like he's the type of guy to finish something he started. Plus, just once is never satisfactory, he wants to make sure he can enjoy it as long as possible. On the other hand, he'd definitely do something like it to edge and tease you

R= Risk (do they like to try new things)

He's new, he's going to be taking small steps at a time. So, he'll be open to new things once he's comfortable moving up the scale

S= Stamina (how many times they can go and how long each round lasts)

Oh, he can go for hours and hours. He doesn't exactly get tired. If you rile him up since morning, he can go until the afternoon, making sure both of you are satisfied

T= Toys (are they game for using sex toys on themselves or lovers)

Never tried and not against the idea. He'd find it amusing and tease you if he accidentally walked in on you using a vibrator/toy during his absence. He'd definitely say something like, "miss me that much?"

U= Unfair (how do they tease or do they enjoy suspense themselves)

He's a tease, with a shit-eating grin he would tease you until you whined and begged for him

V= Volume (are they loud, what sounds, and do they talk)

Absolutely. He'd talk you through it, whining and moaning into your ear at how good you feel, how tight you are, how hot you are. He's not loud, but loud enough for you to hear his every breath and whimper

W= Wild card (random sincannon of any sort)

He's a wholesome guy, I actually can't think of anything for this one. Unless being oblivious to his good charms and looks is one and he slowly appreciates how you fawn over him and those smirks of his

X= X-ray (what’s down below in dem pants)

I'd say he's around average, his height is around the 5'9 - 5'10 (?) I believe. So not too long or thick, just average but he definitely works with it

Y= Yearning (sexdrive level)

I wouldn't say he has a sex drive, sure he has a lot of stamina, but it's more so....You're hot and he likes to pleasure you drive. Your moans and reaction is his drive

Z= Zzzz (do they sleep after if so how quickly after)

He'll mostly likely follow after you. Once aftercare is finished and taken care of, he'd hold you and feel your breathing slow down, taking in the comfort of the sheets and your presence. Once he sees the golden dreamsand circle around your head, he falls asleep after

[littlelovelunette]

Reverie

This is heavy dark romance, read at your own discretion !!

Tags: @lavacakecon @ekkosh @windnoggin

Contains heavy angst, drug abuse, alcohol intoxication, mentions of physical & emotional abuse, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome (?), stalking, mentions of self harm and suicide

Also contains smut, strap usage, spanking, bondage, hair pulling, slight fingering

Blood on the ground, water on the ground— your mind was hazy when you collapsed to the cold tile floor, hair all over your face.

The breakup had been messy when Sevika concluded she needed to give full attention to Zaun, and couldn't get distracted with a relationship.

You weren't too much of a needy partner, you had been good to her but then why were you the one suffering?

Hot tears used to fill your eyes the moment you'd think back to the way she just easily broke up with you as if the relationship meant nothing to her.

Sevika knew how much she meant to you, how much the bond you both shared had healed you from the traumas of your past but despite knowing all that, she abandoned you.

You were back to square one, eyes almost closing as you stared blankly up at the ceiling. The coldness of the tiles sent goosebumps on your arms and legs, if only she'd been here...

Without her by your side you were spiralling back into deep depression and resorting to substance abuse as a relieve from the emotional and mental distress.

You barely left the house anymore. So much so that your skin was pale as if you were a bedsheet ghost, and the sun hadn't kissed your skin comfort in weeks.

But you didn't know that through the cracks of the door, the keyhole, the little gaps at your now boarded windows— Sevika was always watching. She had people keep tabs on you.

She knew what drugs you were doing, what knife you were using when you cut yourself, and the specific time duration it'd been you locked yourself in with a silent promise of never allowing yourself happiness again.

You lost Sevika once and it broke you. You needed to build your walls up higher.

No matter how much it hurt. No matter the cost...

You were Sevika's everything and still are, that's why seeing you throw your life away broke something inside Sevika's usually hardened heart.

You were the one person who was able to make her feel things like sympathy, love, affection, cuteness aggression.

You forced yourself to sit upright and leaned your head back with a soft groan. Everything hurt.

Everything.

You considered ending it all, but a little part in yourself told you that Sevika would probably be back one day and you didn't want her to see your last in a coffin or hanging from the ceiling of your apartment.

The sun was setting when you finished your second bottle of alcohol. Your movements were sloppy because of the drugs in your system already affecting your brain, the alcohol only added to the blunder.

Your eyes were unfocused, the ceiling seemed so high. The floor seemed so hot, your body felt itchy all over the place. All the sensations were overwhelming you. You closed your eyes.

Darkness.

Utter darkness. Some sort of static filled your brain.

You were floating.

Were you even alive?

What time was it?

Where was Sevika?

Was Sevika alright?

When you came to you were tied down somewhere cold and dank. You could smell the iron-like smell of blood somewhere. What even was this place?

You raised your arm.

Only it didn't comply because of the shackles and cuffs holding it down. Both arms actually. You pulled at them and a clinking sound filled the room, echoing in the distance. Your eyes squinted in the darkness and you saw someone sitting at the far end of whatever place it was.

The smoke of a cigarillo hovering around them, you squinted again. Sevika. It was Sevika. All the words that rised to your throat made you let out a small choked sound. "Wh..."

Sevika put the cigarillo out and walked upto you, "What's wrong with you?" She crouched to meet you eye-to-eye. "Tryin' to off yourself?"

"Don't wanna do this." You slurred.

"Wake the fuck up, this ain't a fairy tail!" Sevika pulled you closer using the collar of your neck sending your head lolling to the side because you were still inebriated. "Life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, I thought our breakup should've taught you that already."

"H... Huh?" You couldn't quite comprehend what she even was saying. Your gaze fixed on her beautiful, gorgeous, breathtaking, angry face.

Sevika sighed.

"You're high. Drunk. Both." She got up, pulling the shackles making you blubber and choke. "Until you get better than what you are like right now I can't let you out of these." She jingled the shackles to make her point. "You're a danger to yourself."

"N-no." You slurred. "I'm okay, I'm just... High."

"Yeah, I know." Sevika sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Fuck." She walked back to the chair, sitting down there as you remained there on the floor with your legs sprawled on the ground and hands shackles to the collar of your neck. You let out something close to a whimper. "Please."

"Please what?" Sevika raised a confused brow.

"Keep me." You said making Sevika question all her decisions that led upto this. She got up.

"Freaky." She mumbled before she left the room.

You looked around and tried to make more sense of what was happening but it didn't make sense to you. Why was Sevika being this way? Being so difficult?

She broke up with you, broke your heart into a million pieces and you got addicted to drugs and alcohol as a relief from your problems. Now you're chained to a wall by Sevika who said she wants to keep you safe from yourself?

Talk about mixed signals.

As a few more hours passed, your high wore off and you started to make a bit more sense than before. Sevika returned, keys jingling when she opened the door.

"Where am I?" You asked meekly.

"My basement." Sevika answered after a moment's pause. She was holding a tray of something that seemed close to food.

You stared dumbly as Sevika crouched down to your level. "Eat." She ordered and held out the bowl of soup for you. It was rich coming from Sevika who had a diet of cigarettes and alcohol.

You looked down at the bowl of soup offered to you. Your hands were shaky when you held them out to take it making Sevika sigh. "Nevermind."

You thought she'd deprive you of food because you were so weak you wouldn't even be able to hold the bowl upright without spilling some. But to your surprise, Sevika started spoon feeding you.

She scooped up a spoonful of the warm broth and held it to your lips, her expression unreadable. "Open." She muttered, as if the whole thing was a nuisance.

But she waited.

Patient.

Your jaw hurt so did your whole body but you forced your mouth open eitherway, bottom lip trembling. Sevika took notice. She always did.

She pressed the spoon past your lips, slow and careful, like she knew you were too weak to handle anything rough. The warmth spread through your mouth, down your throat, soothing the ache in your stomach.

You barely had the strength to keep your head up, but Sevika was already scooping up another spoonful.

"You're pathetic like this." Sevika grumbled under her breath.

You would've cried. You were sensitive enough to with just a simple insult Sevika threw at you on a daily when you both had dated. Your lips trembled, pressing down and your nose scrunched, the corners of your lips twitching a little.

"Just eat." Sevika said, her voice a tad bit softer. Maybe, she regretted saying you were pathetic. "You'll feel better." She added.

After spoonfeeding you the rest of the soup, Sevika remained there crouched for a while before she reached one hand out to hold the side of your face. Her grey eyes softening. You could see how her dark lips slowly parted as if she'd kiss you, leaning in and in before...

"Your temperature." Sevika suddenly said, putting her big hand on your forehead brushing your hair away so she could feel your temperature. "Your skin's so hot."

You grinned slightly. "Maybe I'm dying." Your voice was a weak croak.

"Don't you dare." Sevika glared at you before she got up. "I'll get you something for the fever."

She looked down at your form on the floor, chained to the walls. She thought, "But of course staying in this cold basement isn't the most ideal if I want to keep a fever off of you."

She didn't say anything, the keys made a satisfying clicking sound and the chains holding you to the wall fell off. Now you were remained with the ankle cuffs and chains that connected them together so you couldn't run. And the collar on your neck chained with the cuffs of your hands.

"Up." Sevika grabbed you by the underside of your arm and dragged you upstairs and into her bedroom. She let you lay down on the bed so she could tend to your fever.

The next few days were a blur. You were bedridden ill and Sevika took care of you as if nothing had happened between the both of you. As if you weren't a prisoner held captive. As if you both were back to being each others' everything.

She made you feel like nothing had changed. You believed her too...

"You need a shower." Sevika said as she used the keys to take the cuffs off. Fourteen days and the cuffs were finally off. You rubbed your wrists, looking up at her with those innocent, pity-worthy eyes. Sevika got up. "I'll be in there with you so don't even think of trying something funny."

You knew she was referring to you trying to drown yourself. But you yourself knew you wouldn't try that. These last fourteen days may not have magically healed you completely, but you had more hope than before.

Hope that maybe someone did care to take care of your fever-weakened self. You watched as Sevika stripped you off your clothing and you instinctively hid your body.

Sevika's body froze at that movement from you. "I won't hurt you." She said in a whisper. You hesitated but then put your arms to your sides.

The older woman led you to the shower room and pushed you inside. You complied and to your awe, Sevika pulled her shirt over her head as she stepped in too.

"What?" Sevika asked flatly once she caught you staring. You didn't say anything and simply outstretched your grabby hands, making the grabbing motion.

Something that always softened Sevika when you two were together. Sevika's gaze softened and she looked at the running water of the shower as if conflicted.

"We shouldn't be doing this." She leaned closer so you could touch at her breasts.

"But you kidnapped me."

"Yes, and that is exactly why we can't be doing this. We're not together. You're my prisoner, that's it." Sevika was lying to herself and you knew it.

"But you love me." You looked up at her, the water drenching the both of you. "You love me so you kidnapped me to take care of me."

"She's fucked in the head." Sevika thought but didn't dare say it out loud. Instead she said, "I wish I could deny that." Because a part of her knew it was somewhat the truth.

She kidnapped you because you were a threat to yourself and she didn't want that. Sevika sighed and buried her face in the crook of your neck.

You wrapped your hands around her waist. "Sevika." You mumbled her name softly, liking the way you weren't screaming or sobbing her name out.

Sevika put the cuffs back on your drenched naked body. She bent you on the bed so you were on your hands and knees, pulling your waist back so your ass was visible to her.

"Arch." Sevika ordered.

You let out a small whine but complied. Sevika smirked, hand grabbing the plush of your ass. She knew it was wrong but it had been years of no sex. No brothel. Just missing you.

You wanted this and so did she.

Sevika positioned her strap over your pussy. "Ready, slut?" A small whimper left your lips but you didn't dare deny such an opportunity. "Ready, daddy."

You gasped when she she was slammed inside your cunt, a lewd wet sound coming from your greedy pussy. You clenched down on her thick cock, whimpering.

Sevika grabbed the chain of your wrists, pulling them back causing the collar to choke you since they were interlaced. "Daddy, I'll be good!"

"Oh yeah?" Sevika smirked and slammed herself deeper inside causing you to tremble.

She let go of your arms and pulled your ass up further, delivering a firm smack making it jiggle from impact.

"Please." You buried your face in the sheets. "Harder. Daddy, please. Harder." You moaned.

Sevika, a little shocked you'd beg to get fucked any harder than this, complied either ways.

"Oh you want me that bad?" Sevika grabbed the back your head, fingers tangling in your hair and she pulled it back sharply eliciting a loud whine of pain and pleasure.

"Ow! Daddy..." You moaned like a true pornstar when Sevika thrusted hitting your cervix with the tip of the dildo.

Sevika's grip on your waist tightened, mechanical fingers digging in your skin causing bruises to form. You were a mess, drooling and crying in pleasure.

Oh how you dreamt this was what it would be like to be on Sevika's strap again getting railed from the back. Hard and fast.

Just how Sevika liked it. Just how you liked it.

Sevika's guttural groans and pants in your ear made the knot in your stomach twist almost painfully as you pulled at the chains causing them to clink every wet thrust.

"Daddy, please I need to come!" You screamed causing Sevika to chuckle again. She slapped your ass again, letting go of your hair so she could hit deeper.

Her hands bringing you closer to herself. The strap scraped against the walls of your pussy making you whimper and bite the sheets. "Co-co-coming, hhhng." You moaned in a high pitched tone as your body shuddered, coming undone on Sevika's huge strap.

A slow victorious smirk formed on Sevika's lips when she pulled the toy out. "What a slut. All for daddy." Sevika grabbed your collar and brought you in for a kiss.

You moaned in the kiss, feeling her fingers deep inside your pussy teasing you as she kissed you.

You knew you'd be here in Sevika's apartment with her longer. Far longer than expected.

[deadpcnned]

Sealed by the Storm (jj.m)

chapter four

pairing: jj maybank x reader; marriage of convenience

content warning(s): references to mommy issues (reader), references to loss of a parent (reader), angst

author's note: i'm so so sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter up. it ended up being a bit harder than i expected. thank you for your patience! just a little warning i will be changing the pov in this series to 2nd person (working on fixing the other parts).

join the taglist | series masterlist

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When the Pogues were dividing the Maybank Property, you didn’t get closet space. Your room was an extra storage closet with just enough room to fit a twin bed, a mirror you’d mounted on the wall, and a small nightstand with two drawers. When you first arrived at the Outer Banks, after El Dorado, you had nothing except literally the clothes on your back, so you didn’t see the point in arguing for more space. Since the OBX has become your home, you’ve gotten more things– usually, having to ask Cleo to put some of your clothing in her and Pope’s closet– but not enough because you can’t find anything white right now. Not even jeans. Sarah had insisted that if you didn’t wear white, the whole thing would seem rushed– more rushed than it already seemed– and that every part of this production had to appear genuine. 

You’re still trying to figure out how Cleo convinced you to get married. When you left all the Pogues on the porch last night, there was no way you were going to marry JJ. It wasn’t just about JJ. Your unstable upbringing jaded your view on many things, and love was probably one of them. You didn’t doubt that love was real, and the last two years had taught you that it existed in abundance. But love was temporary, with a shelf life that only lasted until one party found something more important to stick their heart to. You haven’t given it much thought, to be honest, what you think of love now that you’ve found this version of a home. It seems contradictory to concern yourself with something as fleeting as love when you’ve finally stopped defining your life by trying to survive day-to-day. Instead, you’ve focused on the other relationships in your life. For the first time, in maybe ever, you have friends, plural. Loyal and lively friends. You also have adults who care about you without expecting something in return. You can show up at the Heywards’ door at an ungodly hour, and they won’t blink an eye. 

While you haven’t thought about love since settling down, you know exactly how you feel about marriage. 

Marriage isn’t just soft-spoken promises of I love you and forever; it is a transaction, a business deal and a power struggle made to look pretty with red ribbons of romance and confident vows of companionship. You had seen it yourself, watched as the winning smiles of the person you loved most had only ever been disarming grins all along. Marriage hadn’t stopped your mother from betraying your family, nor had it shielded you from pain. No, it had been the weapon your mother used to get exactly what she’d always wanted, even more than her daughter. It didn’t matter if the union is built on love because marriage is the issue's root. The legal entanglement makes people greedy, leaving their spouses a casualty of the games.

You don’t know how you feel about love, but you know that marriage is a trap you never expected to find yourself in. Yet, here you are, about to fall off the precipice of the very thing you fear. You are going to permit another person to pull you into this game by signing off on a dotted line. And you weren’t even in love. 

You find a beige skirt buried deep in a drawer of your nightstand and figure it’s close enough to white. You begin looking for a shirt when you hear a short knock followed by the door opening. Sarah walks in with her hair wrapped in a green towel, holding something in her hands. 

“You know,” You say, plopping down on your bed, relieved for this break from looking for an outfit. “Usually, people wait for a response when they knock.”

Sarah smiles, sitting on the bed and bumping her shoulder against yours. “Force of habit. I always used to barge into Wheezie’s.” Sarah’s expression is some mix of fondness and longing that makes you want to squeeze the girl who has become like a sister to you. Instead, you just slip your hand into Sarah’s and gave it a light squeeze. If you stop to acknowledge every unfair thing life dealt all of you, you would never get anything done. Sarah nods at your other hand, where the beige skirt is balled in a fist. “No luck finding anything white?”

You shake your head with a groan. “No. It’s fine. Beige is close enough.”

“It is so not fine,” Sarah’s exasperation is completely unnecessary in your opinion, but you let her continue. “If we want to make all this believable, every detail counts. A girl marrying the love of her life would care that beige is not white.”

You give Sarah a sarcastic smile. “What about girls marrying a friend they can sometimes tolerate?” Sarah’s smile matches yours, but a line forms between her brows. 

“Hey, why are you stressing?” You reach up to smooth out the divot. “I’m the one getting married.” 

“No, it’s not that,” Sarah lets her denial sit between you two, not immediately offering any explanation. Her lips purse sideways, her brows furrowing further, a telltale sign that she is having difficulty keeping something to herself. Just as you expect, Sarah breaks without any additional pushing from you. “It’s just that… why are you so hard on JJ?”

“Are you seriously asking me that, Sar?” You roll your eyes, getting up from the bed. You walk towards your nightstand, training your focus on folding the useless skirt and putting it back in the bottom drawer. 

“Yeah, actually,” Sarah’s voice is serious, a tone she seldom uses. Unleashing her hair from the towel, Sarah throws it at your nightstand. “I am.” 

It only takes a minute for the skirt to be put neatly away, leaving you nothing to avoid Sarah and this conversation. You turn to face Sarah, whose eyebrows were now raised instead of furrowed. 

“Sarah, it’s like you guys forget everything he’s done.”

“Of course we haven’t forgotten, but we forgave him. That’s what friends do.” 

“You can’t forgive someone who hasn’t apologized,” You argue.

Sarah shakes her head, her eyes shifting to the ceiling as if she is in deep thought. “JJ…” Sarah trails off again, seemingly unable to explain herself. “He’s not good with words—”

You cut Sarah off with a scoff and cross your arms across your chest. “JJ is amazing with his words. He can get himself out of anything.” 

“That’s not what I mean,” Sarah’s tone, while it remains serious, doesn’t match yours. She remains calm as she continues. “I used to get annoyed too, you know? When I first started dating John B, we were all so caught up in the Denmark treasure, but after a while, I noticed the same things you do. He was always getting caught up in some shit he’d start, and all of us somehow ended up stuck with him in whatever web he’d spun.” 

JJ and Sarah resemble siblings in more than appearances; they often fight just like you assume normal siblings would. Fights over things like the rules of a board game or stolen leftovers usually end at the beginning of wrestling matches, that John B has to stop by physically removing Sarah from the room. However, you have yet to see Sarah genuinely upset with JJ. The Pogues never really fight, so Sarah’s lack of anger isn’t out of the ordinary, but you could never picture a time when Sarah had felt differently about him. It could be how Sarah compensates for the loss of her siblings, but despite only being a few months older than JJ, she smothers him with the sisterly love Cleo gives you. 

“Yeah,” Sarah chuckles, reading the disbelief on your features. “But then there was this day after my dad died…the first time,” Sarah cringes as she says it, and you try your best to keep your face neutral because what were your lives? Sarah’s voice changes, looking down at her hands as she continues. “His death had put JB and me in a weird place. I needed him to understand my grief, but to him, the man who’d taken his father from him was dead. At that point, I was sort of still just his girlfriend. Kie and I had just started talking about our history. JJ and Pope had no loyalty to me.

“But JJ snuck onto Tannyhill just to see if I was okay. Brought some flowers he’d picked from our yard and everything. He hated Ward almost as much as John B, but he still showed up for me. I remember Rafe almost caught him cause JJ had tripped the security alarm, and I had to convince him it must’ve been a fluke. That’s who he is. He makes mistakes, just like us, but he shows up. Sometimes more than the rest of us.” 

You don’t know what to say in response. JJ supporting Sarah is sweet, but it isn’t unexpected. You know how fiercely he shows up for the Pogues, and you undoubtedly admire that about him. It doesn’t change the fact that he is impulsive, and it seems like his impulsivity is reaching a point of no return. 

“Sarah, It’s not that I don’t know JJ’s a good guy. I do,” You sit down next to the blonde. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’re still getting caught in the web.”

“People make mistakes, Y/N/N. The rest of us have, and you’ve always forgiven us. What’s so different about JJ’s mistakes?” You don’t need to think of your answer. 

“This is all I have.” 

“The shop?” Sarah asks. 

You shake your head, the nape of your neck heating up as the cost of being vulnerable. “You. The Pogues.” You will yourself not to let your voice shake. To you, every wrong decision JJ makes threatens the Pogues’ chances of staying together. This family that has somehow fallen into your lap— a gift after years of misfortune— seems to be hanging by a thread recently. 

Sarah’s expression softens, and you could laugh at the speed with which your friend’s eyes fill with tears. With all her cheek and confidence, Sarah is still the softest person you know. 

“Then you and JJ are more alike than you think,” Sarah says simply. She quickly brushes the tears that have fallen and clears her throat. “Sorry. I didn’t come in here to berate you. I came to bring you this.” Sarah reaches back on the bed, where she’d dropped the black bag she’d walked in with. It’s a garment bag. Sarah stands from the bed and unzips the bag in her hands. 

“I stole this one of the times I snuck into Tannyhill… is it called stealing if it’s literally yours?” Sarah’s usual cheer appears to have returned, and no trace of your earlier conversation is left. “Anyway, it’ll definitely do the trick.” 

Sarah carefully pulls a mess of white fabric from her bag. The dress, in true Sarah Cameron fashion, is gorgeous. It has a drop-waist silhouette that will hug the body perfectly before flaring into a soft skirt. The skirt is covered by a delicate, thin layer of netting that compliments the suggestive top half with a whimsical touch. The outline of flowers are scattered across the skirt, only enhancing the graceful look. Instead of sleeves, the dress is held together by thin, dainty straps, and the dress will likely end a little above your ankles, making it the perfect blend of romantic and laid-back.  

Simply put, the dress is beautiful. 

“You stole this? When the hell were you going to need--” You stop speaking as you are hit with the obvious. Sarah's reason for initially buying this dress doesn’t matter, because it’s glaringly obvious why she deemed it necessary to take and bring back to your house. “No way. I’m not wearing this.”

“Why not? It’s the perfect elopement dress,” Sarah whines, holding it against your frame. 

You push the dress away from your body. “Yeah, for you. It’s your elopement dress.”

“John B. and I are already married,” Sarah shrugs. 

“Sarah.” 

Sarah rolls her eyes. “Fine, yes, I stole this to wear when JB and I get legally married, but it’s fine! I’ll buy another dress when that time comes. This was originally gonna be my midsummer’s backup. It’s nothing fancy.”

“This is your backup?”  You ask, only receiving a shrug from Sarah. “Sar, why would you give me this for a sham wedding? It’s such a waste.”

“I don’t feel like it would be,” Sarah responds. Cryptic…

“And why not?”

“Does it matter? Look, you have nothing else to wear, and we have to leave in an hour,” Sarah huffs. “Just think of me as your fairy godmother and accept the miracle.” 

“Sar—” Just as you are going to protest another time, the door opens again. Cleo walks in, a bag of chips in one hand. 

“You ready yet,” Cleo mumbles around the chips she is chewing. After taking in your appearance, she sighs and swallows before speaking again. “Why are you not ready yet?” 

“Cause there’s still an hour.” Why are they all acting like this is a real wedding? It doesn’t matter how you look as long as you sign the damn papers. “I was about to change.” You look over at Sarah, who has a knowing smile on her face, and you groan. “Give me that.” 

“Careful!” Sarah chastises as you grab the dress out of her hands. Walking towards the door, you open it with a tilt of your head to indicate the other two should get out. 

“Since when do you care about privacy when you change?” Cleo asks, slumping against your bed.

“Just give me a minute.” When she realizes you are being serious, she makes eye contact with Sarah and finally gets up to leave. Once the other two girls have left, you sit on the bed, your bedding a bit crumpled from all the movement it has just endured. This is it. After you put on this dress, you will sign off the rights to your life. You know that logically, you have until you sign the dotted line, but putting on this dress is like putting up a white flag and admitting that you surrender to this convoluted plan and being tied to JJ indefinitely.  

You let your shorts and crop top fall to the floor, replacing the clothing on your body with the dress. Looking in the mounted mirror on your wall, you can only see your reflection from the chest up. It gives you that familiar itch to curl into yourself. You look so much like your mother like this. In a fancy dress, your hair still pulled up from when you’d tied it back. It was so poised and elegant, a look you desperately wanted to pull off as a kid but wanted nothing to do with now. Yet, even with all the comparisons you can draw between yourself and your mother, you can’t deny it makes you feel pretty. Even just the top half of the dress fits you so well, and it makes you nostalgic for a time when pretty dresses were your only worry. 

Taking just a minute longer before you let Cleo and Sarah back in, you pull your hair down. Your hair spills over your shoulders, softening your features and making you look younger. You aren’t ready to look that much like your mother. 

Sarah had insisted on getting you fully ready for today’s events. You were no stranger to makeup but usually you stuck to mascara and concealer. Sarah had pulled out all the stops. While keeping your base relatively simple, she’d added blush, lipstick, and even eyeliner to “give the full effect.” She had even pulled your hair back up into a bun, and as much as you wanted to fight against it, you figured avoiding the mirror would be easier than arguing.

The Pogues had created a plan for the entire day to try to convince the residents of Kildare that the nuptials between you and JJ were as true as the sky was blue. John B and Sarah would accompany you and JJ to the courthouse to handle your ruse's legal and most crucial component, while the rest of the Pogues would set up a “surprise” reception in the Heywards’ backyard. The reception had been Pope’s idea because, according to him, his parents were too close to JJ and you to not need the extra convincing that this whole thing was real. You had doubts that Pope was just finding ways to make this more entertaining for himself. 

Once Sarah and Cleo had finished helping you get ready, you’d decided to stop by the charter shack. JJ was, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be found, and you had some time to kill before heading to the courthouse. Initially, you’d wanted to find Kie. Whatever connection Kie and JJ had wasn’t lost on you, and you’d been overthinking your very much overdue conversation since last night. Even though you didn’t feel like you were wronging Kiara, since from what you’d gathered, JJ and Kie weren’t anything serious, it still felt like you owed her some form of acknowledgment. When you’d asked Cleo if she’d seen Kiara, she had let you know that Kiara had gone to her parent’s house a bit earlier, making it impossible for you to have that conversation. 

Instead, you figure you’ll take the time to be alone. It’s what you always do when you can’t process your emotions. Is it the healthiest coping mechanism? No. But at least you know you do it. The shack is the closest you can get to quiet in a house with six other roommates, so you’re headed that way. As you climb the familiar footsteps, you think of the last time you’d been here. It had only been two days, but that night with JJ feels like a lifetime ago. You’d somehow compartmentalized discovering Ligthner’s body, becoming an accessory to a crime, and being questioned by the police in a way that anything before it all felt like a distant memory. 

“That’ll be 3.99,” JJ’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts as you stand by the shack's open door. JJ stands behind the register in his usual uniform of cargo shorts and a graphic tee. He reaches out his hand to a middle-aged man, not noticing that you are standing there to witness his interaction. 

JJ divies up the change before sticking out his hand to offer it to the patron, “Here you are, sir–” At that moment, JJ looks to his side, immediately doing a double take when he sees you. He falters, missing the customer’s hand entirely and spilling the change against the counter and the floor. The polite smile that JJ had worked to perfect slips off his face, his lips parting and his eyes clouding over. You can’t decipher the storm brewing in his eyes, but it sends a flutter through your belly as you meet his stare. The movement of the customer scramming to pick up the dropped change, which JJ had dealt in a comical amount of coins, catches your attention, but when you look back at JJ, he is still looking at you. With a heat that seems to burn right through you straight to your spine. 

“JJ,” you whisper, drawing his eyes from where they had been trailing down your figure and back to your face. You shift your head towards the man crouched to gather the fallen change. JJ seems to finally return from wherever his mind had ended up and quickly rounds the corner. 

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” JJ says, crouching to help. “That was an accident,” He apologizes again as he hands the last of the change back to its rightful owner. 

“Don’t worry,” the man winks. “I’ll get out of your hair.” He gives you a knowing look that makes you flush as he passes and leaves the shack. If he only knew. 

“Hey,” JJ mumbles, the heat in his eyes subdued. “You’re ready?

“We’re supposed to leave in twenty minutes,” you reply. “Sarah was getting restless. I think she just sees this as an opportunity to play dress-up.”

JJ chuckles, moving closer to you. “Yeah, I think John B’s choosing which one of his button-ups I’m gonna wear right now.” JJ’s eyes begin to trail back down your body, his tracking slow and that cloudy look returning to his eyes.“You look…” 

You try your best to ignore how his throat bobs when he swallows, unable to fill the gap in his words. The pooling nerves in your stomach spread, moving dangerously low. That feeling isn’t good– not now, not with him.

“Like a bride?” You try to joke, but it comes out breathy and wrong. 

JJ attempts to laugh, but it is more like a sharp exhale. Suddenly, his hand reaches behind your head, gripping the elastic band holding your hair in place. In a swift movement, he pulls your hair free of its constraints, and it falls in waves over your shoulders.  

“Better,” He whispers, and you feel an unfamiliar ache in your chest. Whatever peculiar reaction JJ is having to seeing you in a white dress needs to be stopped. 

Clearing your throat, you speak up. “You think this’ll fool everyone?”

That does the trick because JJ chuckles before pulling his arm back. “Between this and the three-act play Sarah’s putting on for the Island, we should be in the clear.” You laugh, agreeing with him. 

“What are you doing out here anyway? I figured we’d keep the shop closed today,” You ask, grabbing a Snickers bar from a shelf. 

JJ snatches the Snickers bar from your hands, ignoring your protests. “I figured I’d keep the shop open for a bit. You were right before about us needing the business.” You don’t say anything; you watch as JJ tears into the chocolate bar. Eventually, he passes the bar back to you with a shit-eating grin. 

Narrowing your eyes, you take the bar back. Then, you tore a piece of Snickers off and plop it in your mouth. After a few minutes, neither you nor JJ move to leave, and you speak up again. “Are you ready for this?”

JJ laughs humorlessly, “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

You rub your lips together, unsure how much you want to give away what is running through your head. JJ is the only other person who can relate to you, but being vulnerable is never easy. JJ’s expression changes, his eyes softening.  

“I’m scared, too,” JJ says. You want to argue, convince him that you aren’t scared. You want to make him think that you are angry and annoyed and displeased beyond belief because admitting you are scared means admitting there is something with enough power to take you down. You stay silent. You can’t bring yourself to lie to him, but instead, you feel yourself move closer to him. You don’t say anything, just let your invasion of his space speak for itself. JJ continues for you.

“I’m worried that all of this’ll be for nothing. We’ll get caught, and it’ll just make the inevitable worse.” Too lost in understanding the look in his eyes, you don’t notice JJ reaching out until his hand catches ahold of yours. For the fiftieth time in three days, JJ touches you like you’re his, his thumb stroking your fingers, and it’s getting harder not to let it make you dizzy. The whole marriage thing must really be going to your head because you can’t help but feel like the weight of his thumb keeps returning to your ring finger. “But I promise you, I’m going to make sure I don’t let it touch you. Any of this.” 

 “I don’t want it to touch you either.” 

You aren’t sure if you meant it, and you are even less sure what compels you to say it. JJ gives you a slight smile that does nothing to ease your newfound worries, “You don’t worry about me, okay? I’m gonna get you out of this safe.” 

You want to argue with him and tell him that he needs to make it out safely, too, but a distant yell interrupts your train of thought before you can reply. 

“JJ, COME DOWN! I GOT YOUR CLOTHES!” 

JJ pulls back, his sad, self-deprecating smile disappearing. “I’ll see you at the finish line, I guess.” He sticks out his hand, his smile changing to the mischievous one that always looks best on him. “Let’s do this.”

“Let’s do this,” You smile, reaching out to shake his hand. “But after you take a shower.” 

You aren’t very superstitious, but today you want to be. Your dad had been extremely superstitious, always telling you to beware of black cats and search extra hard for four-leaf clovers. Today, you want to believe that things like a lucky number or knocking on wood can fix up a promising future for you. The weather is pristine – the sun bright and pleasant in the company of a light breeze. The weather is the textbook definition of a perfect day. If it had been your actual wedding day, you would probably have considered yourself unbelievably lucky. 

You want to cling to that belief as John B, Sarah, and JJ walk to the courthouse doors. This is it, the metaphorical calm before the storm. Sarah squeezes your hand tight as you reach the courthouse. You had taken hold of her hand in the Twinkie and hadn’t let go since. 

“This is it,” John B says, wiping his hands against his pants. 

JJ tilts his head, offering a brief nod, “Yup.”

“Do you guys have rings?” Sarah asks, and you want to groan. She is taking this entirely too seriously, and it does nothing to calm your nerves. 

“Sarah, we’re nineteen-year-old Pogues. I highly doubt anyone expects us to have rings,” JJ said, and you hadn’t ever been this thankful for him… ever. 

Sarah rolls her eyes, offering you one more squeeze of her hand before letting go. She walks up the five steps of the courthouse building and opens the door for the rest of the group. You and JJ follow John B. and Sarah’s lead as they talk to a few people to see where they should go. John B had called as soon as the courthouse’s office had opened in the morning, but it seems a bit pointless since there aren’t many people around. That helps with your nerves a little. Not having an audience will make some of this easier. 

JJ, unlike earlier, is the picture of ease. He had put on a pair of John B’s khakis and a pale blue button-down, looking so unlike himself. His messy blond hair, not a trace of gel visible, is the only thing that reminds you that you are about to marry JJ Maybank. He leans against the counter in front of the plexiglass like it’s the counter back at the shop and speaks to the clerk as if he is an old family friend. He handles giving the clerk all the information required, only turning to you for your license – which you’d thankfully gotten a couple of years ago. He is so… JJ about the whole thing. Playing the part so well, as if it’s just another one of your schemes. Eventually, the clerk passes a stack of papers through the opening at the bottom of the glass and speaks into his mic. 

“Once you’re ready, we’ll need your signatures on each page, and then you’ll sign this.” He passes a yellow file folder with a paper sticking through the gap. “And that’s it. You’ll be officially married.”

Your fingers shake as you reached forward to pick up the yellow folder. The portion of the paper sticking out says ‘marriage license’ in beautiful, cursive font. You are surprised you aren’t numb to the nerves twisting around your stomach by this point. 

“Whenever you’re ready,” the clerk says, turning away to his computer. You look up at JJ and then behind him at Sarah.  

“It’s going to be okay, Y/N,” Sarah assures you, but it doesn’t help. Her words can’t dissuade the nagging voice in your head saying that you are signing up for your life to become a game. 

“Hey,” JJ turns to look at Sarah and John B before grabbing the papers from the counter and your hand. He leads you both to a brown bench at the edge of the room, sitting you down. He takes a moment to look around him before crouching in front of you. “I know this is hard, but…” 

“We have to.” You fill in. JJ shakes his head immediately. 

“No, we don’t. Somehow, this crazy idea makes sense, but that doesn’t mean we have to. If you say no, then we’ll figure out another way. No one will be mad, and none of this will be your fault.” 

“You wouldn’t be mad?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t. You’re doing me a favor.” You look at JJ, knelt before you, a hand placed next to your thigh. He is utterly at your mercy and still giving you an out. No pressure, no fallout. Looking at him, you know what you have to do. 

“No, I’ll do it.” JJ looks at you as if to ask, “Are ​​you sure?” You nod in reply. “Give me a pen.” 

JJ stands up, sitting down next to you. He pulls out a pen from his pocket, and you want to joke about how domesticated the fact that he’s switched out his lighter for a pen is, but all you can bring yourself to do is swallow down the deep breaths of air you are taking in. JJ flipped through each sheet in the stapled stack of papers, signing one line before passing the pen to you and repeating. He signs, then you sign. He signs, then you sign. You focus on that pattern through all six sheets, and the flow was only disrupted when JJ waves John B and Sarah over to sign on the witness sections. When JJ finally pulls out the marriage license from its folder, you though you would have reacted less to it. It was just another four lines, but you still feel its weight as JJ prepares to sign it. You don’t move your eyes from JJ’s calloused hand– focusing on how his hand moves as he glides the pen over the paper, the sound of the pen clicking when he is done, the sharp crinkle of the paper as he holds it out for you. You try to focus on anything that would distract you from the actual act of signing the papers. 

“Wow,” John B whistles. “You guys are married.” 

You look up at him, JJ, and the signed papers in front of you. JJ’s face is paler than usual, but there is no indication of what he is thinking. You try to smile at Sarah, but you can feel it comes out more like a grimace. 

“Alright, you two,” John B says, as the Twinkie near Pope’s parent’s place. “This is when it all matters.”

You want to laugh. It didn’t matter when you were manipulating the government? 

“Everyone here needs to believe that you two are surprised by this party, but more than that, they need to believe that you’re in love,” You roll your eyes. He doesn’t have to spell it out so much. “That means you need to go full Jarah.”

“Excuse me?” You ask. “What’s a Jarah?”

“Oh God, JB,” JJ groans, his head falling back against the seat cushion. “That’s cringe even for you.” You glance at John B’s smug grin and Sarah’s love-struck gaze, and you groan. 

“Is that y’alls couple's name?” You ask. 

“The kids call it a ship name,” John B shrugs. 

“You’re so unbelievably lame,” You nod at JJ’s words, your posture mirroring his as you rest your head against the seat. 

“Maybe, but I’m also serious. You need to look like a newly wedded couple, which means lots of PDA.” 

You look at JJ, who seems just as displeased as you feel. JJ has been quiet since you got in the car, and there is no sign of the boy who’d talked you through the hardest decision of your life.

“So when we get to the backyard, be holding hands and biggggg smiles. Got it?” You regret any time you’d privately praised John B’s leadership skills. JJ is the first to exit the car, closing the door once all of you have gotten out and following behind the group. When you reached the fence of Pope’s childhood home, JJ’s entire demeanor shifts. His shoulder raise, a small smile paints his lips, and you swear his cheeks somehow turned redder. He places his hand out for you, waiting for you to take it. 

You walk hand in hand through the makeshift fence Heyward must’ve built years ago, the sound of music and the smell of barbecue filling your senses. As people begin to come into view, your jaw drops. Except it isn’t an act because you are in genuine shock. You’d assumed the party would consist of  Pope’s parents, maybe Kie’s, and a couple of JJ’s acquaintances from high school. What you hadn’t expected was for what seemed like the entirety of The Cut to be populating Heyward’s backyard. From JJ’s expression, he also didn’t expect to see this many people. 

The crowd erupts in cheers, chants of the couple’s names being heard from various corners. You feel JJ’s hand tighten around yours, but when you look at him, he seems to melt into the noise. His lips round into a cheer and settle into a wide grin as he takes in the crowd. In this crowd, JJ is in his element. With the attention, noise, and chaos, he can guide you through the rest of the evening and you can have the chance of getting out of this without being caught. You follow JJ’s lead, smiling brightly, and feel relieved when Cleo came to give you a big hug. 

“Who knew you were such a great actress,” You mumblw to Cleo, who is holding onto you with a death grip.

“The hug’s not because I’m happy for you,” Cleo whispers back. “I’m sorry, Y/N/N. But it’s all going to be okay.” When she pulls back, you don’t have the time to sit in that moment with Cleo because all your friends follow her lead.  

“JJ,” You and JJ look up to see all six feet something of Mr. Heyward standing in front of you and you immediately feel your palms dampen. This interaction will possibly be the hardest one to sell. 

“Heyward,” JJ lets go of your hand and throws his palm out to shake the hand of someone you know has played the part of a father to him. You wonder if lying to Heyward might be one of the more challenging parts for JJ, but if it is, he doesn’t let it show and instead plays the part he has to effortlessly. “Thanks for all of this,” He makes a show of taking in his surroundings and letting out a low whistle. “It means a lot.” 

Heyward’s expression is painfully untrusting, and you wish you could wither away when he turns to look at you. Over the past two years, as Pope and Cleo’s relationship transitioned from platonic to damn near a married couple, you had frequented the Heywards’ house almost as much as Cleo. When you’d returned from Poguelandia, Heyward had housed you without a second thought, and ever since then, he’d treated you like his own. Lying to him feels worse than a betrayal, even if you’re sure he would understand the situation. Well, maybe not the entire situation. 

“Sure was surprised when I heard Pope tell me this was happening,” Heyward says. The glare he would give you kids whenever he knew something was amiss, boring into you. 

You must look like a fish out of water with your mouth opening and closing, searching for an adequate response. Luckily, JJ speaks up for both of you. His arm rounds across your shoulders as he draws you closer to him. 

“I know it’s hard to believe., but when you know, you know, right?” 

Heyward hums, his arms crossing across his chest and then uncrossing again. Pointing his finger, he says, “You know, I’m just not sure how I didn’t see this happening, is all.”

JJ leans in towards you, making a show of failing to whisper, “I’m sure he doesn’t see a lot of things nowadays–”

“Oh, you think you’re funny, huh, lil shit,” With that, Heyward is back to his usual level of annoyance with JJ, and you can breathe a little easier. “Y/N, you got anything to say?”

You clear your throat, “It’s been a whirlwind, but I’m really happy.”

You don’t look at JJ as you say it and know you needed to, but lying has never been your strong suit. When you and Cleo were still with Terrance, you usually worked in the shadows while Cleo set up the distractions in the spotlight. It was easier for you that way. This whole wedding sham had made the two of you switch roles, and you didn’t have enough time to prepare. 

“I don’t know what whirlwind you’ve found yourself in now, but I’m sure I don’t need to teach you that marriage is no joke.” If only Heyward knew how deeply familiar you were with the fact that marriage was anything but humorous. “Be smart. And you,” Heyward looks back at JJ, his features stern. “Be good to her. Or Cleo and I won’t leave a body to be found.”

You finally laugh at that, and in a moment of feeling genuinely carefree, you wrap your arm around JJ’s torso. You wouldn’t have even noticed you did it if JJ hadn’t brushed the bare skin of your shoulder and drawn your attention to just how close you are. Despite your unusual affection, neither of you moves from your entanglement. As you move around the party, meeting acquaintances and a couple of JJ’s cousins, you think you could’ve sold the whole thing with how close you two are. You doubt you were Sarah and John B’s level of affectionate, but even if JJ had been the love of your life, you don’t think you’d be the kind of person to have that much of a public display anyway. 

The sun will begin setting soon, and as you look around the backyard, you feel nostalgia for something you have never had. Weddings were one of those things so many girls grew up dreaming about, spending hours thinking up the dress of their dreams and how they’d decorate their venue. You never had the chance to think of those things, but looking around you, you think maybe this is precisely what you would’ve asked for. The decorations are as simple as they could be. Cleo and Pope have strung some fairy lights– probably Kie’s– through a few trees and from the roof's ledge. It’s cook-out style for food– grills being manned by dads and barbecue being served fresh to each person. Music is playing in the background, but it wasn’t a perfectly curated playlist of love songs. From what you’ve heard since you walked in, it was probably just the playlist Pope usually put on when he got speaker control during hangouts. It is the most Pogue, life on The Cut-esque wedding, but it is more than enough for you. For a minute, you close your eyes and pretend this is a party being hosted for any other reason, sending a fuzzy feeling from your heart throughout your body. It is all you’ve ever wanted. To be loved, to belong. It doesn’t matter how you got here, but you had.  

The upbeat tempo of a Kendrick song is replaced by the much slower tempo of an unsettlingly familiar song. The opening notes of Can’t Help Falling In Love ring through the settling crowd, the blend of the piano and electric guitar muffling Heyward’s voice as he calls you and JJ to the center of the yard. You barely process the awkward look JJ shoots you, too distracted by the churning feeling in your stomach, returning more vigorous than it had all day. You hate this song. There are too many memories of watching your parents dance around the kitchen while Elvis played in the background. You used to watch them in awe of the love they shared, the way your father would melt into your mother’s arms. It was almost like the song had created a self-fulfilling prophecy about how your parents' relationship would play out. A love that had felt as sure as the flow of the river to the sea had taken your father’s life. It had taken your life. 

JJ’s hand leads you to the clearing all the onlookers have created as he mumbles about having no choice. You look around, all these people who would never know what you are thinking. You are thinking about this life that you dreamed of a couple of years ago and many years before, you wouldn’t have understood. That girl watching her parents in the kitchen wouldn’t have understood any of this, and your heart breaks for her in a way that it never has before. It is making it difficult to push past the pounding in your ears and the bile rising in your throat. JJ’s free hand comes to rest on your waist, and when your eyes met, he gives you a tense smile. 

Your right hand rests on his shoulder, mindlessly mirroring how you’ve seen your parents do this a hundred times. JJ, you soon find out, isn’t much of a dancer. His steps are clumsy, either too wide or too short. He tries to lead your movements, picking up on how you’ve gone rigid, but he lacks just as much fluidity. You know what the crowd is expecting. They want to see magic, the tender moments between two young people looking forward to every joyful second of their intertwined lives. The way you and JJ are moving is the polar opposite– the stiff movement highlighting how out of sync you two truly are. JJ’s movements are harsh and rushed, and you are grateful that he has switched out his workboots for a pair of John B’s Converse because, in a span of two minutes, he’s stepped on your toes three times. 

“Shit– sorry,” JJ mumbles, his covered foot landing on your toes a fourth time, effectively making you wince. He is so focused on his missteps that he likely isn’t noticing the judgemental side glances you are receiving from the crowd, but you do. Something about the combination of your embarrassment and the painful memories of your youth has your eyes welling with tears. You don’t cry. Not just in front of others, but never. It’s like your tears had dried up all those years ago, but now, with this stupid, stupid song playing, you can’t stop them. 

“Swear I’m not usually–” JJ stops his defense when he looks at you, his eyes widening. The tears haven’t fallen, but it is probably evident with how close JJ is to you. JJ looks around, snapping his head in various directions until he finally finds whatever or whoever he is looking for. He twists his pointer finger in a circular motion twice, and you notice Pope quickly shuffling with his phone. The music doesn’t change immediately, and JJ keeps his hands firmly against you, but he slows his swaying. Instead, he holds you still and pulls you into his body. It’s like he is trying to shield you from everything outside the two of you, and you take refuge in his arms without a second thought. He whispers against your temple, “I got you.” 

The haunting melody of Can’t Help Falling In Love is finally replaced with the rhythmic, upbeat tune of My Girl by The Temptations. JJ, firmly pressed against you, pulls back quickly and lets out an unrestrained “WOO!” He snaps in tune with the music, his movements much more liquid than earlier. The weight of the earlier song still feels like it is being pressed against you, but the energy of this song is entirely different, and it seems to infect JJ. He has a cheeky grin and looks just like the charming-to-a-fault boy you know despite the clothes that don’t belong to him and the rare bursts of softness you’ve witnessed today. 

“I’ve got sunshine,” He sins along with Ron Tyson, and if it had been any other artist, you might have thought he was giving them a run for their money. His voice is smoother than you would’ve expected. He doesn’t have the voice of a trained vocalist, but his North Carolina accent mixed with the natural timbre of his voice makes for something captivating. The smile he’d brought to your face grows as he steps towards you, his shoulder moving in time with the song. 

“I guess you say,” He continues, his eyebrows raised with intention as he looks at you. Your laughter bubbles over, already knowing where he is headed with this. “What can make me feel this way?” 

You make a show of annoyance with his antics, but as he takes your hand and spins you around three times– once for each time Tyson sings ‘my girl’-- your delight is unfeigned. After the third spin, JJ crosses your arms in front of you, hauling your back against his chest. You peer up at him over your shoulder, your noses brushing, and his grin is like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day. 

The crowd has begun to join you on the makeshift stage, but you are too caught up in the song and how much fun you are having with JJ to care. These are the moments you remember from Poguelandia, which feel like a lifetime ago now— the carefree feeling JJ brought to your life that you had desperately needed then. 

JJ’s antics only get more humorous when the song's instrumental part begins to play. He uses the opportunity to do his infamous two-step, shooting you a cocky smirk and throwing his arms out at either side of him, inviting competition. 

“That all you got?” You ask, and JJ made a show of stepping back and offering you the floor. You aren’t sure what you are doing, but you take the space and let your hips move in tune with the music. The song isn’t seductive by any means, but it is groovy, and you felt confident in how your body moves with it. From the impressed look on JJ’s face, he seems to agree, and you giggle as he inces closer slowly, wrapping a loose arm around your waist. 

As the song reaches its final verse, John B and Sarah have made their way over to you. JJ and John B look at each other, tilting their heads in unison and pointing at each other. Suddenly, JJ is spinning you over, and John B takes ahold of your hand. John B is a much worse singer than JJ, but your laughter isn’t deterred for even a moment as he leads you through the rest of the dance. You make eye contact with Sarah, who shoots you a wink and lovingly rolls her eyes when JJ spins her. John B follows suit by turning you in towards him, whispering in your ear. 

“That had to sell it.” 

taglist: @theater-bitch @ayy1234567 @tpwkyarely @loves animals0000 @B3rryb3t @mvaldez7821 @ummmmokaynotme @velyssaraptor @chloemaybank @sandaltoesocks @thexplosivegirl @rudypankowisbae @marleymarleymarleymarley @snowtargaryen @awurtzx06 @yumwhy @rudypankowisbae @kanpaeki

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Song Mingi x F!Reader TW : reader is an internatiol ATINY ; nationality unspecified ; pure angst ; long distance relationship ; arguing ; disastrous break up ; heartbreak ; it's just sad ; he's a little bit, slightly yandere ; Word Count : 8.0k A/N : Mingi angst!! Yay! Haven't written for ATEEZ in a good bit! This one is fun! I have full control and I love it! Time for some heartbreak!! This turned a little yandere... But I hope you still like it! Also, I'm sorry I haven't posted in a while. I'm trying to write as much as I can! Request : Anonny : hi! I was wondering if you could do a mingi angst! I've been reading your angst fics and well just your gifs for like the past year and never had the courage to ask until now! I don't really have specifics and you could just do whatever you want with plot wise or something! I haven't thought about plot and stuff yet, just mingi angst 😭

The last fancall, it was kind of sad, but in a way, also relieving. They got to just relax after this call, they didn’t have to try to understand what an international fan was saying, not that it was a problem, but it was hard, although they’d never expect anyone to learn Korean just for them. They all loved talking to ATINY though, even if it were just a few, they got to personally get to know them for a minute or two, they got to joke with them, laugh with them, even playfully flirt with them. It was just nice to have some kind of interaction with the fans that brought them to where they were today. 

It was your first fancall, you weren’t even sure how you had gotten so lucky to be chosen, but you had been, and when you got the email you screamed so loud that your neighbor started banging on the walls. Something as small as a video call, but it was huge to you, it felt like a dream. Surely, anyone who wasn’t a fan of k-pop wouldn’t understand, they’d probably think you were crazy for getting so excited over something like this… But this just might be the closest you’d ever get to any of them, and it would most definitely be the only time you ever got to talk to them. 

You had done your hair and your makeup and you had changed your outfit about six times before settling on something more casual. It’s not like any of them would remember you anyway, and you weren’t even upset about that, you were just glad to be able to have this opportunity… an opportunity that had you so insanely flustered that you could barely even speak when Hongjoong showed up on your screen. 

How embarrassing it was to sit in front of your favorite idols, not all of them at once, but one by one, they all got to look at you and see you looking so absolutely enamored that they were in fact actual people. The most you could get out was a ‘hello’, and even that was kind of squeaky and they would laugh, which in turn would make you more shy. They were all so nice though, asking you what your favorite song was and who your bias is, even though you couldn’t seem to find your voice. You wondered if things like this happened often. 

Then you got to Mingi, who was last second to last in the lineup. He wasn’t exactly your bias, you didn’t really have one, they were all amazing and attractive in their own personal ways. But damn did he look good. If you were awestruck before, you were completely starstruck now, your eyes widening as you took in his perfect features and just… everything about him. 

“Oh my god…” You said, under your breath you had assumed, but he had to have heard you considering he turned around and looked behind him before looking back at the camera to smile and wave at you. “Hi…” His turn was slightly different, it made you feel different. The other guys had simply looked at you, but it felt like Mingi was really looking at you. What did he see? Did you have something in your teeth? Was your hair messed up? You felt shy, like you were standing right in front of your crush. It was crazy. 

“You ever been to Korea?” He asked, and it was so blunt, but he had this cheeky smile on his face that both eased your nerves and somehow had them going haywire at the same time. You giggled nervously and shook your head no. “You should come, it’s nice here. A lot of pretty girls, you’ll fit right in.” He… He just called you pretty? Was this fan service? It had to be! He was just really really good at it. “Do you have a boyfriend?” None of the other guys had asked you these types of questions, why were things getting so personal? Why didn’t you seem to mind it when it was coming from him? You shook your head no once again. “Good. I’m your boyfriend now. Okay?” 

It probably wasn’t a good time to take a sip of water, not that you had expected him to say something like that, but you spit it out all over your desk, completely in shock at the words that you had just heard him say. There was no way he was being serious right now. His fan service was immaculate. “Oh…Okay!” You stammered out, and you wondered how long this would go on. He had surely passed up the timer. 

“My turn now!!” You heard Wooyoung shout from beside him, and Mingi groaned loudly as his bottom lip jutted out. “I’m gonna steal your girlfriend, deal with it.” He teased, and you let out a small sigh. It was just fan service. You felt kind of foolish for momentarily getting worked up over something that he probably said to 20 other people today. 

“I’ll see you again, yeah?” He asked, his words coming out rushed, and what the hell were you supposed to do? Say no?! You obviously wanted to see him again, that would be awesome, but the chances of you winning a fan call raffle twice were so low, you would be crazy to think that you’d ever have a moment like this again. 

“Yeah… Yeah, you will.” You said, because even though you knew he was just very skilled in acting, you might as well play along with it. For a few short seconds, you had been Song Mingis girlfriend… And now that you had moved to a call with Wooyoung… All you could think about Mingi and his words and the way he looked at you. It drove you crazy… He drove you crazy. He had just become your ultimate bias though!

///

“I’m not gonna be able to go to the Ateez concert.” Your friend mumbled, and part of you, the more selfish part of you, was partially glad that she wasn’t able to go. She had flaunted the fact that she got front row tickets and you hadn’t been able to get even a back seat, they were sold out before payday. “Stupid fucking job, not giving me a day off. I requested it too!” 

“That’s bullshit.” You shook your head, trying your best to sympathize with her, but all you could selfishly think was that if you weren’t lucky enough to go, she shouldn’t be lucky enough to go either. “Are you going to sell the ticket? You could get some good profit considering it’s a front row seat.” You quizzed, but the way she was looking at you made you quite uneasy. It looked like she was planning something… or at least thinking of something, and you didn’t know if it was malicious or something else completely. She was hard to read. 

Long, manicured nails tapped against the table top, the sound putting you even more on edge, and then she sighed. “I know that your birthday is coming up, and… well I’m poor because I bought this damn ticket so…” Her shoulders shrugged, but there was a slight, tight lipped smile spreading across her face. “I’m just gonna give it to you. Happy early birthday! Yay! Tell Yuno I love him so much.” 

Your jaw might as well have been on the floor. Was fate really giving you a good hand this year? Was this all that good karma you had earned from being a wonderful citizen in society? “Holy shit… No way! Are you being serious right now?” You just had to be sure. There was no way someone would just give up a front row ticket, especially not for free, even if it were your best friend. There had to be some kind of clause. 

“Yes, I’m serious. Now, accept it before I change my mind and just skip work that day. I would have done that anyway if I didn’t have to pay rent.” She rolled her eyes and sunk down in her seat. “Take as many pictures and videos as you can… for me. Please! That’s all I’m asking for.” You nodded your head firmly, shit, that was the easiest thing you’d have to do. “He’ll probably look so good… Maybe…” 

“No take backs!” You blurted out, your finger waving back and forth as you stared at her, and you hoped that she thought you were just goofing around and that your expression didn’t let on just how panicked you felt just by her words. “I will facetime you just so you feel like you’re actually there… Okay?” She was sulking, as anyone would be, you knew damn well that you would be if you were in the same position as her. 

“Just have fun… And make a big sign, you have to get at least one of them to notice you, especially since you’re front row. Take advantage of those seats, bitch.” She teased, reaching her hands across the table to grab yours as she let out a little squeal, kicking her feet and acting as if she were still the one going. Maybe she was just trying to hype you up. “I gave you the best birthday gift, nobody can top me, they shouldn’t even try.” 

“They should definitely still try though… I mean… I like getting things.” She snorted loudly, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with her. She was absolutely crazy and you absolutely adored her. A world without her as your best friend would be dull and boring and you didn’t even want to think about how sad it would be. You would have the best time of your life at that concert, and you’d do it for her. 

///

Picking out an outfit for something like a concert was much harder than picking out an outfit for a video call. This was important, especially since you were going to be in the front row. One of them - hopefully Mingi - would look directly at you at some point. You couldn’t just be casual about it, you had to draw attention to yourself, you had to make sure that you were noticed. This decision felt more crucial than anything else in your life, and that seems quite absurd, but these guys had been the subjects of all your dreams and daydreams, you at least wanted to look good in front of them. 

You had only been to one other concert in your entire life, and it was back during middle school for an indie group when you were going through your “emo” phase. This was bigger than that, you could already tell as you pulled up to the arena and saw the people pouring into the entrance. Your heart was hammering in your chest, it was crazy, you had even gotten there 2 hours early to try to make things easier on yourself but the crowd was already massive. 

The lightstick in your hand was already shaking, but only because of your nerves, but you knew that you couldn’t just sit in the back of the Uber forever, so you climbed out, taking a deep breath before heading into the building. It was somehow more packed inside than it was even outside and it was so insanely congested that it felt more like a train station than an arena for a concert. Did all concert venues look like this or was it just because ATEEZ was performing? 

Since you were front row, you got to go in and watch them warm up… funnily enough, you felt you might miss it considering you didn’t have a single idea where the hell you were going. You were trying your best to navigate through this cluster of people that were just as excited as you were, and you wished that you had someone to help walk you through this whole thing. It was so loud and you were being bumped into, and while they apologized for it, it didn’t make you any less anxious. 

By the time you finally made it in the arena, you were just exhausted. The big sign that you had made and brought along with you had miraculously made it through all of it unscathed, but you were drained. You dropped down into your seat, hoping that your hair and your outfit had survived as well as the sign, but there was no mirror and you didn’t want to risk getting lost on your way to or from the bathroom, so you just had to rely on that hope that you still looked as good as you did when you left the house. 

It felt like you hadn’t even had enough time to really catch your breath or cool off before the guys were walking out on stage. Everyone around you was screaming, but you were so enamored by the sight of them, literally right in front of you, that your mouth was hanging open but no sound was coming out. You had really thought that the video call was the most amazing thing, but now, you were sure that you were wrong. They were legitimately real, they were right in front of you. “Holy shit…” You mumbled to yourself, and for some reason, even though there were still a pretty good amount of people around you, you were self conscious, you were shy, you were nervous. 

They came to the edge of the stage, one by one, and they all walked by and finished hand hearts that other people were making and stayed still long enough to be in selfies with certain people, none of them really stopped for longer than a minute tops… No one, other than Mingi. 

Oh, Mingi… Who had managed to make your heart flutter through a simple video call, he made you feel like you were going crazy… Surely he wouldn’t remember you though. But why… Why did he full stop on your side of the stage? Why did he kneel down in front of you, his eyes locking with yours as his head tilted to the side? Gosh, he was adorable. There was no way that he would notice you after the couple months that had passed. The video call hadn’t lasted long enough for your face to be saved in his memory. Had it? 

The chants of the people beside you seemed to pull him out of whatever trance he was in, and he quickly stood up and scurried along the stage, but it didn’t go unnoticed that he continued to look back at you, his eyes narrowing as if in deep thought. Did he remember you? 

Soon enough they were off the stage and the rest of the stadium began to fill. The noise was much worse inside the arena, the sound just echoing off the walls and filling your ears, and you wondered how people could handle it constantly. You were sure that you’d have a major headache once you got out of there. The sudden influx of people and the growing excitement of the show that was about to begin had taken your mind off of the slightly strange interaction from before. You shouldn’t think so hard about those things, it was foolish and you didn’t want to be delusional. 

As the show started, the screams that you had originally thought to be loud seemed to multiply tenfold and your ears were already ringing. Of course, you had a seat right next to the speaker. Would your eardrums even make it through the night? Were there enough ibuprofen in the world to soothe the awful ache in your head once you got back home? 

It didn’t matter now, you just wanted to enjoy the show. You were here to enjoy the concert, to live the experience… But also, not forget to get enough video footage of Yunho to thank your friend for the ticket. This was something that you wouldn’t be able to do again, at least for a long time. Screw the headache, you should enjoy it while it lasts, and that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

///

“I swear, I think that’s her in the front row.” Mingi said backstage after the warmups. The guys all stared at him like he was crazy, but he knew that he wasn’t. He knew your face, he knew your eyes, they had filled his dreams every night… They thought he was crazy for that too. “I’m so serious right now. I wouldn’t say it’s her if it wasn’t.” 

Wooyoung snorted, but patted Mingi on the back as he walked by. “Maybe you’re the delusional one. Spotting your dream girl out in the crowd. That’s crazy. Come on, we have to get ready. Get your head out of your ass.” Mingi pouted as he walked over to the stylist and dropped down into his seat beside Hongjoong. 

“I’m being so serious right now. You believe me, right? I mean… You saw her in the call. You know what she looks like. That was her out in the crowd… Right?” Mingi asked, trying to keep his voice down so that Wooyoung wouldn’t come over and completely crush his dreams and rain on his parade. Hongjoong chewed on his bottom lip, looking at Mingi through the mirrors that were in front of them. “You… You believe me… Don’t you?” 

Hongjoong sighed, turning to Mingi with a slight pout. “I didn’t… But if you really believe you saw her, I’m happy for you. I’m not going to tell you that you’re crazy.” He pushed himself up off of his chair and stretched, preparing himself for the show that he was about to put on for all the fans. “It’s almost time to go out there…” 

“Yeah! Maybe you’ll see your girlfriend!” Wooyoung chimed in, seemingly coming from out of nowhere. “It’s okay to be delusional, bud. I’m not judging you for it.” Although it seemed like he was judging him a lot for it, Mingi tried to avoid the teasing and focus more on the fact that he was about to head out on stage in less than five minutes. 

He was so nervous though, not for the reasons that most would think though. Being up on stage in front of thousands of people wasn’t the issue, it was being up on stage in front of you. What were the chances of you winning a fancall and being at a show too? It’s like the universe was trying to bring the both of you together. He truly believed that. He couldn’t think of any other reason for those two things to happen. Especially with you being right in front… Front row seats, like he was meant to see you. It wasn’t a coincidence, it couldn’t be, and he knew that it was you. Your face was unforgettable to him. He daydreamt about it every day, he would have dreams of you every night. He couldn’t get you out of his head. 

///

The speakers in front of you send vibrations through the air around you, you could feel it in your muscles, in your bones. The entire arena went dark for a moment, and then you heard the crowd roar as they walked out. You had already seen them once during their warm up, but it was like the first time again, your breath held in your lungs as they walked out, the music crescendoing the closer they got to the edge of the stage. 

It felt like when you ride a rollercoaster, the slow climb to the top of the hill, and you knew that the edge was coming soon, that feeling of falling, excitement and fear all in one… But this time there was no fear, it was just the strange tingly feeling in your stomach, that last breath of air before you’d let it all out in one loud scream. 

Building and building, their bodies like shadows in the darkness, and then with one click the spotlights turned on and they were illuminated, the bright lights shining on each and every one of them, but you were only looking specifically at one. An audible gasp left your lips as you seemed to once again lock eyes with Mingi.

Your hands shook as you held up the sign that you had made, feeling quite foolish now as it was hoisted above your head. “Call Me Mingi”, with your phone number written neatly at the bottom. It was a joke, one that your friend had laughed about right alongside you as she added the glitter to the glue hearts that had been neatly placed along the board. 

It was crazy, you and your friend both agreed to that, but it was probably a good switch up from the typical signs that asked the idols to marry them. What was even crazier though was when Mingi pulled out his phone, aiming it in your direction and snapped a quick photo. You couldn’t be delusional, being delusional wasn’t good for your heart or your mind, but you also couldn’t help but think that maybe he took the photo so that he could check back on the sign… So that he could call you… 

The rest of the concert felt more like a blur, stuck in your own mind thinking about what Mingi could have wanted that picture for. You didn’t see any of the other guys taking pictures of the crowd… Or maybe you were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice if they did. You couldn’t stop thinking about it though, and before you knew it, the concert was over and you couldn’t even remember the setlist or the last song they played before the main lights in the arena turned back on and everyone began filing out. 

Your friend was going to kill you, you hadn’t gotten a single video of Yunho for her. You honestly were quite pissed at yourself as well. This is why delusions aren’t good at all. You missed the whole concert, one that you most likely were never going to be able to experience ever again, because you were too busy thinking about whether Song Mingi, a literal idol, would make the time to call someone like you. 

///

“You didn’t get a single video of Yunho!? Oh my god!” Your friend whined as you laid in bed, your phone next to your head, not even on speaker, but her voice was loud enough that it didn’t need to be. “Maybe it’s a good thing I didn’t go to the concert. I can’t afford to be a delulu as your ass.” 

“I’m sorry!” You mumbled, throwing your hands over your face and letting out a loud groan. “I just… I’m not even thinking about him calling my number at this point. I just don’t want him to post a picture of it online and have a bunch of people trying to call me or text me, you know?” You explained, finally getting over your delusions and moving onto a safer, yet still highly panic inducing train of thought. 

“Oh! Your phone is going to be blowing up! You’ll finally be super popular!” Your friend teased, snorting loudly as she said it, but you could only muster a slightly annoyed shut up in response before your phone started vibrating. “It begins! Maybe he did post it!” 

“Oh hell no! I’ll call you back!” You said quickly, ending the call with your friend to quickly answer the incoming call. “Look. I don’t know where you got my number, but if it’s from where I think it is, I will not tolerate unsolicited calls. This is harassment.” 

“Oh…” The voice on the other end was quite timid, but you could tell it was a guy. He sounded kind of nervous, and although all of you wanted to believe who you thought it was, you didn’t want to go down that road again, at least not tonight. “But your number was on the sign… I thought you wanted the phone call.” 

“The sign was a joke!” You explained exasperatedly, kicking your legs like a toddler in the store who was throwing a temper tantrum. You surely didn’t want to deal with this right now. “Unless you are Song Mingi, I’d advise you to hang up the phone and find someone else to bother this late at night.” 

There was a chuckle, although the sound was slightly muffled, but it was extremely agitating that someone found this funny. As if harassment was something comical nowadays. “So I shouldn’t hang up the phone then… Right?” You scoffed loudly, finally getting up from your bed and pacing around your room, something that you often did when you were just too annoyed to sit still. 

“Look, this isn’t funny. If you’re doing this to mess with me, I’m sure you’ve already had your fun. I’m trying to get some sleep, I’m exhausted. It would be really cool of you to not fuck with people like this.” The words came out in huffed breaths, you were beyond pissed, not just at whoever this person was, but at yourself for being stupid enough to put your number out so publicly just on the small chance that someone like Song Mingi would actually dial your number. 

A soft hum, and then your phone started vibrating again, this time an invite to a video call that you surely weren’t up to accepting. You let it continue ringing until it ended, and you thought that it would be a one and done type of thing, but then it started vibrating again. “Just for a second, you don’t even have to be on the camera, I just want to show you something.” 

You didn’t exactly mean to laugh as loudly as you did, but you had heard that line one too many times in your lifetime to trust it. “Look bud, I don’t want to see a live action shot of your dick and balls. I wasn’t born yesterday.” You snarkily shot back, and the audible gasp that came through your speaker had it crackling slightly. 

“Who did that to you? That’s disgusting… Hold up. We don’t have to call. I’ll just… Send you a selfie real quick. Not of my dick and balls.” Were you so annoyed that you were laughing, or did you actually find him funny? You weren’t sure, but regardless of what it was, you laughed at his little quip, your hand moving over your mouth so that the guy didn’t think he was actually getting anywhere right now. 

Your phone buzzed in your hand once again, and luckily it was only once, but when you went to your texts, you were met with a selfie of the guy that was on the other end of the line… The guy that the sign had been made for. “I call bullshit!” You blurted out, because there was no way in hell your little glitter bomb sign would have worked. You just couldn’t fathom it.

“Reverse image search it then. It doesn’t exist anywhere else than in your messages.” He said rather bluntly, quite cockily too. Now that you were really listening to his voice though, you couldn’t deny that it sounded all too familiar to the voice you heard at the concert, and not just that, but the voice you had heard in your phone before when you had won the fancall. You were stunned into silence, you didn’t know what to say or what to do next, and he could tell. “You believe me now?” 

“Mmhm…” Was all you could mutter, because what else were you supposed to say? How were you supposed to think of anything coherent when you were currently in a very real, very one on one call with Song Mingi… Or was it one on one? Did his managers know about this call? Were they just standing around him listening to every word you and him say? Did they freak out when he sent the selfie to you? 

“So… I’m going to be here… Close to you… For another two days…” What was he hinting at? Ain’t no way he was hinting at what you thought he was… right? “If you want to meet up for lunch or dinner… or something…” Holy shit he was. “I know that this is crazy, I just needed to be sure…” 

“Sure of what?” You asked, and your heart felt like a freight train, speeding straight to your ribcage and you were sure it was going to shoot out in a matter of seconds. 

“I… I need to be sure that I do actually like you…” 

///

Two days wasn’t enough, but in a sense, it was for him. It felt like a dream when he finally met up with you, even though he had to practically disguise himself from the public, it felt nice to just be able to sit across from you for lunch and talk to you. It didn’t take long for him to be 100… No… 500% sure that you were the woman that he wanted to be with. Love worked in crazy ways, but he trusted it, because the odds of everything lining up so perfectly to get to this moment… It was fate, it had to be. 

The way your body froze for a second before melting against his when he so suddenly pressed his lips to yours. It was a spur of the moment thing, but it felt right, and he needed to kiss you now because he knew that the moment wouldn’t come again for a long time. It wasn’t supposed to lead to anything more, it wasn’t what he had planned, but before either of you could really think twice, you were falling back onto the hotel mattress and he was falling on top of you. 

In that moment, it was like his heart grew ten times bigger, and laying beside you, your hair carelessly clinging to your sweat covered forehead as you dozed peacefully beside him… Love wasn’t hard to find, the world was just waiting to bring the one you were supposed to love to you. That’s how he felt, and he believed it wholeheartedly. How could he not when he felt like he was falling deeper and deeper in love with you with every soft breath that escaped your lips. 

To live in that moment forever, both bodies hidden underneath wrinkled sheets, his feet hanging out from the end of the blanket, your arm draped lazily over his bare chest. Could you feel his heart beating beneath his skin? It seemed like now it was only beating for you. He saw his future flash before his eyes, mornings like this, every morning like this, just waking up beside you, being able to see your beautiful face as soon as he opened his eyes. What a wonderful future it would be to spend it with you. 

Falling in love was easy when it was with you, but it was hard… It was hard because he knew he couldn’t stay with you, at least not in person. He had to go back to Korea, he had to finish the rest of the tour. His heart felt like it was connected to yours entirely, and having to leave you behind was going to be painful… But it would work. He’d make it work, solely because he couldn’t imagine his life without you in it. 

“I wish I could take you with me…” He whispered, and while he knew that that wish couldn’t be granted, not yet at least, he had been able to swindle security to pick you up just so that he could ride with you to the airport, so that he’d be able to see you one last time before he had to go. “I’ll message you… I’ll call you every day.” 

“What if you get bored?” You practically whimpered, and his heart cracked at the question. How could he ever get bored of you? He had spent months before the concert just thinking about you before he even knew where you lived or what you were truly like. He had been loyal to the singular thought of you. There was no way that he’d give up so easily when he finally had you and was able to call you his. 

“I’d never get bored, baby. I’ll wait, always… Until we can be together.” He reassured you, his hands cupping your cheeks gently as he wiped away the stray tears that fell from your eyes. “Don’t cry, please don’t cry. I’ll start crying and then I won’t be able to get out of the car because I won’t want to leave you…” He kissed your forehead, and then the tip of your nose before leaning back and giving you a smile that had his eyes disappearing momentarily. It was your favorite smile, you had told him multiple times, and it always seemed to cheer you up. 

“I’m sorry…” You sniffled, leaning forward and resting your head against his chest. Could you hear his heart now, could you hear how fast it was beating for you? “You should go now… I don’t want you to miss your flight.” The words sounded choked out, and he would have said more, but he knew that his words would come out the same way. 

For some people, two days wasn’t even enough to be acquaintances, but for him, two days was enough for him to feel like his heart belonged to you completely. You were his soulmate, his everything, without a doubt… He wouldn’t even look at another woman, he wouldn’t be able to look at anything without somehow finding a way to see you in whatever it was. He loved you with every ounce, every fiber of his being. 

“I’ll… I’ll try to make a stop here after the tour… I’ll visit you again… Before I go back to Korea… Okay?” He held out his pinky to lock with yours, twisting his hand and pressing his and your thumbs together. “Wait for me… Always wait for me, okay?” You nodded your head quickly, your nose scrunched up in the most adorable way as the tears continued to fall down your cheeks. With one last kiss, he was moving away, closer to the door. He hated goodbyes. “Get her home safe, okay… Please.” He told the driver who simply nodded, and then he was gone. 

The windows were tinted, and although he knew that you could see him constantly looking back at you through the windows, he couldn’t see you at all. The last image of you that he held in his mind was your tear stained cheeks and the expression of sadness as he let go of your finger and your hand dropped back down to your lap. He wished he could take you with him, but life just wouldn’t allow that… Not right now at least. 

///

For a good amount of time, you both kept in touch with each other frequently. Hell, you even had your first argument as soon as he got back to Korea because he pinky promised that he’d come visit you before he left, but he didn’t. It was quickly solved though, because one of the main things the two of you had going for the relationship was communication. He promised that when he had free time he would come visit you for a week, and you held onto that promise just as you had held onto the one from before. 

You would talk about how your day was, all the little things that happened, regardless of time difference or schedules, you both always found a way to keep in contact. For months your nights would end with video calls from him, and his nights would end with video calls from you. Everything was perfect, he truly felt that way. 

But soon the messages came in less often, it seemed like you were always busy doing something when he wanted to talk. He’d call you at night and you wouldn’t answer, always miraculously not having your phone with you or on when the call would come in. He didn’t understand it, and when he went to one of the other members to talk, he didn’t want to hear what they had to say either. 

There was no way that you were getting tired of him. You couldn’t be getting bored… Because he promised you that he wouldn’t get bored. It would be hypocritical for you to ask him if he’d get bored of you and then… then get bored of him. 

The thought stuck with him though, and while that would usually make most people give up, it just made him try harder. He messaged you as much as he could, he sent you constant pictures, he tried to call you whenever he knew you’d be on a lunch break or when you’d usually get off work. Your responses were always so dry though. Were you trying to get rid of him? Had he done something wrong? He was doing his best, it’s not like he enjoyed being so far away from you. It had only been 3 months… He was willing to wait forever to be with you… Why couldn't you do the same for him? 

“Hey baby, how did you sleep?” Nowadays he felt nervous when he texted you. He didn’t know whether he’d get a one word reply or no reply at all. It felt pathetic that the days he’d get the one word replies were his favorite, but you had been leaving him on read so often now that even the smallest response felt like a win to him. 

“I think we should talk…” A five word reply, and while the words didn’t sit right with him and they made his stomach do flips, it was nice. It was nice to think that you wanted to talk to him, regardless of what it was about. 

“Yeah sure! I’m down to talk, do you want to call? I haven’t seen you in a while. I miss you!” 

“No calling… It’ll just make this harder.” Make what harder? What were you going to say that could possibly be so hard? You weren’t… leaving him… were you? You couldn’t be… He hadn’t done anything wrong. He was devoted to you, he was loyal to you in every way. You weren’t just going to give up on him that easily… Were you? 

“Well, whatever it is that you have to say, I want you to know that I love you. I can’t wait to see you again!” Maybe that text would make you rethink whatever it was that you were about to send. If you knew that he loved you, although he did tell you every single day, maybe you’d realize that whatever you were planning on doing wasn’t the right thing to do. 

“Mingi… I can’t keep this up. I… found someone else…” 

“No you didn’t… No you didn’t!” He was already crying even though he wanted his mind to just forget that he had even read that text. “You love me! Don’t you love me?!” You had to love him… Why else would you have been so sad in the car when he went to the airport? “Is this because I couldn’t visit you after the tour was over? I’m sorry! I’ll come visit you! I’ll buy a plane ticket right now!” 

“It’s not that… I need someone that’s here with me. I don’t just want to keep repeating the same conversations every single day. The schedule differences and… Everything is stacked up against us… We weren’t going to work.” 

How could you say something like that? He was doing everything he possibly could to make it work. He was the one putting in all the effort. He was the one staying up later than he should just to be able to call you and message you when you were free. “No… You just didn’t want it to work… I still do!” His fingers moved like lightning across his screen, his eyes blurred with the tears that he was trying so hard to hold back. “You can’t decide something like that.. If you would have talked to me… We could have made it work.” 

Did you know that you were killing him, that you were breaking his heart? Would you take the words back if he told you? “I don’t want to argue with you… I just wanted you to know…” Were you as nonchalant as your texts made it seem you were? You really didn’t care… But maybe… Maybe if he gave you some time… A bit of time you’d come to realize that you did love him. He won’t message you… He’ll let it simmer… Maybe you’ll end up missing him and messaging him first. 

So he waited, and days turned into weeks, and he thought he’d be able to wait a month, but then you started posting on Instagram. You looked so happy in your pictures, you looked absolutely gorgeous, and the smile that you were wearing was the same one you had given him during those two days he got to be with you. He swiped through, and he was fine… Maybe not as fine as he wanted to be, but he was fine with seeing the pictures of just you. It brought back happier memories of when he was able to actually be with you. Then he got to the last picture, the guy that you were currently with, he assumed, his arms around you and his lips planted to your cheek. 

As if your words hadn’t been enough to have his heart breaking in two, the pictures felt like you were purposely throwing it in his face that he couldn’t be with you, that he couldn’t make you happy. He couldn’t stand seeing it, he was pissed, he was devastated, he wanted to lash out and he wanted to cry. Why were you doing this to him? What had he done? 

There wasn’t a single thought in his mind as he closed the instagram app and went to kakao, not even bothering to text you before his thumb slammed down on the call button. He didn’t care if you answered the first time, he’d just keep calling until you did, and that’s exactly what he had to do. It took 6 times for your exasperated breath to come through the speaker when you finally answered, but he wasn’t going to give you any time to complain. 

“Did you post it to piss me off or upset me? Because you did both! I guess you’re really winning now, aren’t you? You got to break up with a k-pop idol and break his heart! Good for you!” Right off the bat he was ranting, and maybe he sounded a little bit psychotic, maybe he sounded just slightly obsessed, but when you’re in love with someone, isn’t that how it should be? 

The sound of a man talking in the background had Mingis ears perking up. Were you with the guy still? Oh, how he wished the guy would get on the phone, he’d love to have a word with him. “You’re being ridiculous. I had a clear, logical reason to break up with you. I didn’t do it to hurt you or piss you off. I just wanted to be happy.” How could you sound so sad when you were the one that left him. He didn’t do this! You did! 

“What about my happiness?!” He screeched, running his hand through his hair. He had become aware of the rest of the guys all coming into the room to check on him, but he didn’t care enough to stop. You were going to listen to what he had to say, and those that decided to stick around would have to listen to it too. “You gave up on everything… You’re so selfish! And you weren’t even going to tell me!” 

“I was going to tell you!” You shouted back, and for some reason, it made him kind of excited to hear you fighting back. Something about hearing you get emotional over his words… It had butterflies swarming his stomach. “I didn’t even have time to fully think about how I was going to tell you, but you kept fucking messaging me and-” 

“Of course I kept messaging you! You were my girlfriend and I hadn’t heard from you! Don’t try to act like I’m the bad guy when you’re the one who was practically cheating on me!” While he was angry, he was also struggling to keep from laughing. It would probably sound a bit maniacal to start laughing right now though, and that’s the last thing he wanted. He just found it so cute, the way you were swearing and breathing so heavily, he could almost perfectly envision your face right now. 

You huffed loudly, and the sound was so beautiful to him. Maybe it was just the fact that you hadn’t hung up yet… You were still making time out of your day that you were spending with your boyfriend to focus on him. “I don’t know why you’re being such an asshole right now… I didn’t do anything to you. I never cheated on you… We… What we had… It couldn’t even be considered dating… We were only together for two days…” 

Now he was laughing though, his head falling back as the sound built in his chest. “Yeah okay! Let’s just hope that your boyfriend doesn’t have to go out of town or leave the country for more than a week. You might replace him too!” He shot back and he could almost hear the eye roll from your end. “Maybe you’re not actually meant for relationships, you just want someone to physically dote upon you daily. Sorry I couldn’t fit your selfish needs into my already busy schedule.” 

A small sniffle and the shuffling of fabric, maybe you were wiping your tears or maybe your wonderful boyfriend had come over to wipe them for you. “You’re being unnecessarily mean to me right now…” You whispered, sniffling again before swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry that you’re hung up… And I’m sorry that my happiness is upsetting you. I’m not asking you to stick around though… I’m not forcing you to. You don’t have to stalk my life… You can unfollow me.” 

Of course he wasn’t going to do that. He couldn’t imagine not seeing you on his feed when he opened Instagram, or not having your messages to look back on when he missed you too much. “You’re happiness won’t last long… You’re too selfish to be truly happy with anyone. The first time you can’t get exactly what you want, you give up. Have fun with that.” 

“I-” He quickly hung up, and it was only then that it sank in what he had done… And a wide smile spread across his face. He’d be kicking his feet if they weren’t touching the floor over the edge of the bed. The call only lasted 20 minutes tops, but hearing your voice that long… It was amazing, it made his heart beat a mile a minute and that familiar warm and fuzzy feeling washed over him. 

“Dude… What the fuck?” Wooyoung finally spoke up, concern masking the man's features as he stared at Mingi on the bed. No one had ever heard him talk like that before, and truthfully, he looked and was acting like a complete psychopath right now. “Who was that? What’s going on right now?” 

“I found a way to talk to her…” Mingi said, his chest rising and falling heavily as he let himself drop back onto the bed. He was happy, the happiest he’s been in weeks. “She’ll keep talking if we argue… I just have to keep arguing with her… Then she’ll come back to me. She’ll realize how much she misses me… This’ll work. I know it will.”

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[luveline]

Hi I’ve never actually sent a request before so I hope I’m doing this right lol. I was so excited when I saw you wanted to more writing for the Steve zombie au before the established relationship. I die for grumpy pining. I was thinking maybe more reluctant comforting like maybe a thunderstorm or something or honestly just whatever you see fit. I love your writing and your Steve is unmatched. Either way request taken or not I’m sending all the love and good vibes.

hi! thank you for your request my love! steve zombie au —you and steve are surviving together when a freak storm begins, and he can’t stop himself from trying to make you feel better. fem!reader

"In," Steve ushers quickly, "in, in!" 

You force yourself through a gap that's too small for you into the warehouse you've found and out of the rain, an instant bruise forming on your shoulder. You understand his hurry, but it really does hurt. He has similar trouble forcing himself inside. 

Thunder cracks behind him. You jump hard at the sound. "It sounds like it's right on top of us," you say. 

"It might be. Come on," he says, taking your arm into his icy hand, "this way." 

Worried that the storm might be winds from a hurricane at the East Coast, you and Steve had immediately abandoned your plan to start walking up highway I-69 and backtracked to the last building you'd seen on the way, a packing house for toiletries. You hadn't bothered coming inside beforehand, neither of you in want of any necessities that aren't canned goods (or, imagine, fresh food).

You wish you had. Not only would the storm have started while you were already sheltered, but you might have been able to navigate the absolute shitshow of a floor plan without nearly breaking your neck. 

You slip on a greasy patch of floor and Steve yanks you up. He doesn't do it to be cruel; if he hadn't pulled hard you would've fell flat on your face. 

"Shit," he hisses.

"Sorry–" 

"No, just– come on, this way," he says. 

His hair is plastered to his face, soaked despite the hood of his coat and the beanie he'd been wearing, The rain is torrential and freezing cold, carrying a chill that permeates down to the bone. You're less wet than he was, as he'd taken the tarp you sleep under from his backpack and made you wear it like a poncho. 

You don't know if he hates you, when he does stuff like that. He certainly doesn't like you. You figure he resents you for saving his life and not having the grace to insist you part ways. How could you? Everybody was running away, fleeing from the geek cul-de-sac Indiana had become, and nobody who wanted anything to do with you had survived the initial wave. You'd been completely alone, terrified, and you'd risked your life to save him anyways. So when he asked if you were alone, you were honest. When he said, You better come with me, then, you didn't think about it for a minute. 

He probably regrets it in moments like this. And it's worse because you like him. Hero worship, maybe, Steve keeps keeping you alive and you want him to like you more and more every day. 

It's why you hate fucking up. You just want him to see you properly, and not as a girl he has to protect. You want him to know you can protect him back. 

You take the initiative and lead him toward the back of the huge room. He doesn't protest. You figure a corner of the structure would be safer than the middle where the ceiling could sag, and away from the centre of the walls where big windows lined with metal shutters sit. 

Together, you knock coffee pots and plastic cups off of a long table and drag it toward the corner to use as a make shift shield. It's the most protection you can get. 

You sit down, relieved. It can't be ten seconds until your body remembers how cold it is, soaked as you are. 

You already know what to do, and despite the shyness that comes with stripping in front of a boy, and especially a boy that you like, you undress anyways. Shoes first, then your coat. Steve starts to do the same, and you try not to look at one another. 

There are lots of things you worry about, but the stupidest one is body hair. You can't help it —when hair removal is engrained in the feminine experience from birth, it becomes a habit. It's not even that you think it's bad, but you worry that Steve thinks it's gross. Then you remember how many times you've heard one another pee and shake your head at yourself. 

"What's wrong?" Steve asks, shirtless as he pulls his second (and last) pair of jeans over tacky legs. 

You're shirtless too. "Nothing." 

"Your bra is wet." 

You look down at your bra and blink. It's cold, and everyone knows what happens when it's cold and you're braless. "It's the only one I have, I don't wanna flash you." 

"You…" He cracks a very rare smile. It's a twitch of the corner of his lips and nothing more, but it helps you to relax. "I'm not trying anything, but you should take it off. You can wear my hoodie if you're uncomfortable." 

"I guess it's dumb to care." 

"I don't think it's dumb," he says, his head craned as another crack of thunder bellows outside. "You deserve to feel comfortable. I won't look, I swear, I just don't want you to be cold." He looks away from you. "You'll get sick. Then we'd be really fucked."  

You nod. You slip out of your bra and put on your second (and last) t-shirt, which is thinner than the first. You shove your arms in his hoodie but don't zip it closed. 

Steve takes the blanket from his pack and, now wearing his shirt and fresh socks, slots himself next to you and pulls the blanket over your laps. It's an odd juxtaposition: he worries about your privacy but not your personal space. 

"I think it's getting worse," you mumble, head tilted to the side as you listen to the wind roar. 

"We'll be okay." 

You put your hand on your thigh. He puts his hand on his. You slouch against the wall and know you won't be getting any sleep tonight, not while the wind rails.

Time passes like a dragging weight. You wince at every loud whoosh of air, and can't help leaning into Steve's side when somewhere in the warehouse a machine begins to creak. The cold bites your nose, and your toes are stiff despite your new socks. 

You and Steve don't talk much, but eventually he speaks up. 

"Do you need another pair of socks?" he asks. 

"No, it's okay." 

"I won't mind," he says. 

"What if you need them?" 

He gets them out of his pack and tosses them into your lap. You take them, but the wind has seized you up, afraid that any minute now you'll get a storm surge. 

"Hurricanes can't get this far in, can they?" you ask quietly. 

"No. I don't think so." 

You nod your head. "It's loud." 

"I know." 

You put his socks on and try to be level-headed. You think it might be the constant heavy stress that surviving in the wild and against the threat of flesh-eating creatures has put you under that's made you so fragile. A storm wouldn't have scared you this severely before. But your brain is under fire basically every second of the day, even in your sleep, and it weakens your resolve. You've never understood how Steve can be strong in the face of all this awful. 

"It'll be okay," he says again. 

"No, I know…" you say. You don't know, but you don't want to bother him. "I'm fine." 

Thunder cracks at exactly the wrong moment, simultaneous with a sound like a window rattling in its frame. You flinch at his side, your hand jumping on his thigh. 

You go to pull it away and he flattens it to his leg. 

"It's okay," he says, his sternness melting into a softer reassurance. His hair lays in damp curls below his ears, and his face is pale from a lack of sun. "It's just wind. We don't get hurricanes, and if we did, the walls are concrete. You think wind and rain can get through three feet of stone?" 

He lets your hand go. You take it as a queue to remove it.

"Sorry, I don't know why I…" 

Steve clears his throat. "You're not–" He couldn't know what you were going to say about yourself, and you have no idea what he might've said himself. "You don't have to be sorry. For this, anyways. You should be super sorry about other stuff, like losing your pen knife, and trying to convince me to eat that frog," —he pauses as you laugh, the hint of a smile playing on his lips— "but don't bother being sorry about this." 

"People eat frogs," you say quietly, leaning your head against the wall and looking at him through one eye. 

He follows your example and sits the same. After a moment, he pulls the slipped blanket up to your stomach again. "I don't care what people eat. I'm not eating frogs." 

"I didn't want to eat one either," you say. You hadn't. "They do eat them, though." 

"I'm sure they do. Cooked, and with spices. Not raw and covered in dirt. And dead." 

You'd only been joking about eating the frog, but you were both hungry enough to stare at it for a half-second too long. 

Rain drums the ceiling like a far away thrumming. You know you must look awful, wet and dirty. You'd managed to brush your teeth this morning at the very least, but you can't imagine you're the kind of girl Steve would ever want, then or now. 

His gaze dips to your neck. It rests there. 

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he says, stilted once again. "Things… things will be okay. They'll get better. We have to make it out of here." 

Steve has people he needs to find. You'll follow him anywhere at this point, not for love, but he's a good guy, even if he glares more than he talks. He knows how to protect you both. He does stuff he doesn't have to do, like this. His vaguely awkward comfort. His extra socks.

"I know," you say. "We'll be fine."

He nods. You tell yourself that you're imagining the tenderness he puts into such a simple gesture. “Exactly. You worry too much.”

[lostintheuniverseslies]

🏠or the BT soulmate au!!!

Okay, I really love the scene I wrote for 🏠 and I'll include the soulmate one too.

🏠 - What Makes Me Happy

Buck couldn't keep his hands off Tommy as they stumbled into the house after date night. It was late, meaning all the lights were off except for the nightlights he’d set up so they wouldn’t have to fumble through the dark—or worry about waking anyone when their shifts didn’t line up.

Eddie must have already gone to bed, and while Buck liked the fact that they all lived together, tonight he really wanted to fuck Tommy. So he was relieved there was no delay with small talk before bed.

Tommy guided him through the house, pushing him up against the wall every now and then, kissing him hard, deep, like he needed him.

"I want you so badly," Buck murmured between kisses.

Tommy answered by steering them down the hallway toward their bedroom, hands gripping Buck's waist with purpose. Except, the moment he pushed the door open, he suddenly pulled back, a slight furrow appearing between his brows.

"What's wrong?" Buck whispered, but Tommy just shushed him, tilting his head toward the bed.

And Buck knew before he even looked.

He turned around, and sure enough, there was Eddie, curled up in their bed, fast asleep.

Buck let out a sigh, but there was no real frustration in it. Tommy’s hand came to rest gently on his lower back, warm and grounding.

"We could kick him out," Tommy whispered, though his tone suggested he wouldn’t have the heart to do it himself.

Buck didn’t either. If he was being honest, he was getting used to Eddie sleeping in their bed. And if he let himself think about it too long, he’d admit to wanting it.

Still, Buck had told himself this wasn’t permanent. Not when Christopher came back. When that happened, Eddie wouldn’t feel so lost, so untethered. He’d go back to sleeping in his own room.

That was the rational thought.

So why, even after months of telling himself that, did Buck still have a family-sized king mattress sitting in his online cart?

"No, that’s okay," he finally murmured. "He must’ve felt lonely while we were out."

Tommy hummed softly, wrapping his arms around Buck’s waist from behind and settling his chin on his shoulder as they both watched Eddie sleep. He was right in the middle of the bed, his head half on Tommy’s pillow, half on Buck’s, like he belonged there. Something about the sight made Buck’s heart squeeze.

He wished they could have this all the time.

"Maybe we should take him out with us next time," Tommy suggested, voice low.

Buck huffed out a quiet laugh. "Then it wouldn’t be date night."

"It can still be date night. Just… with an additional person."

Buck smiled to himself, loving how easy it was with Tommy—how he never felt threatened by Buck and Eddie’s friendship, how he always made space for Eddie without a second thought. It was probably the biggest reason their relationship worked so well.

"Maybe," Buck said, amused. "But I still need nights with just you and me. I don’t think Eddie would appreciate us dry-humping each other in front of him."

Tommy stifled his laugh against Buck’s shoulder. "I don’t know… maybe he’d like it."

Buck let out a quiet, startled laugh, then quickly covered his mouth when Eddie shifted.

"Come on, let’s get ready for bed," Tommy whispered, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Buck’s neck before stepping away. He shut the door behind them, and they slipped into the en-suite bathroom to change without disturbing Eddie.

When they returned, Eddie had turned over in his sleep, his back now facing the door—and Buck’s side of the bed.

Buck slid under the covers carefully, pressing up against Eddie’s back as he settled in. The shift in the mattress must have registered in Eddie’s sleepy mind because he stirred slightly, reaching for Buck’s arm and pulling it around himself. Without hesitation, Buck let him, curling in closer, his chest flush against Eddie’s back.

Buck exhaled, his breath ghosting over the back of Eddie’s neck, and felt the subtle way Eddie relaxed against him, like the warmth of another person—of him—was something he needed.

When Buck looked up, Tommy was standing by the bed, watching them with a soft expression. He didn’t say anything—just pulled back the covers and slipped in beside them.

Tommy hesitated for only a second before shifting closer, his front pressing against Eddie’s. With slow, careful movements, he reached out and slid an arm around Eddie’s waist, pulling him in, tucking him against his chest like it was second nature.

Eddie murmured something unintelligible in his sleep but didn’t resist. Instead, he nuzzled closer, his face pressing against Tommy’s collarbone, breath warm against his skin.

Buck, still curled around Eddie from behind, watched as Tommy settled in, his chin resting against the top of Eddie’s head. The sight made something deep in Buck’s chest ache—not with hesitation, but with certainty.

This felt natural.

This felt right.

Buck let his hand skim down Eddie’s arm, fingers brushing against Tommy’s where they rested at Eddie’s waist. Tommy’s hand turned slightly, like he was acknowledging the touch even as he closed his eyes.

Buck followed suit, letting his body melt into the warmth of the two men beside him, and with a small, sleepy hum of contentment from Eddie, they all drifted off.

⚡️- I Was Made to Love You

After the tsunami, the physical pain stopped coming as frequently, but his soulmate's emotions were bordering on concerning—especially in the following years. It made him wonder if his mother had been right, that they wouldn’t truly be happy until they found each other. The thought consumed him, made him desperate to search, but hope was slipping through his fingers. He was a few years shy of forty, and everyone agreed that if you hadn’t found your soulmate by thirty-five, your chances of ever meeting them dropped to nearly zero.

At least Tommy still had the hum under his skin. He may never get to meet his soulmate, but at least he’d always feel that connection. That’s what he thought, at least.

He was at Harbor, bored out of his mind since they’d been grounded—the electrical storm raging outside was too dangerous for them to be in the air. The hum was there, strong as ever, and his soulmate’s emotions had been mostly positive for the last couple of years. Then, out of nowhere, the hum was gone.

He felt nothing.

No pain. No emotions. Just a void, an absence of everything good, like someone had taken that bond and severed it.

Tommy had never felt anything like it—not since he first became aware of his soulmate’s existence. Panic set in fast, his heart hammering against his ribs. Why couldn’t he feel them? Why was there only emptiness? The first thought that crashed into him was the worst possible one.

His soulmate was dead.

No. No. That couldn’t be. Not when Tommy had never even met him.

His breath came in short, sharp gasps as his knees hit the floor, his hand gripping his chest like he could physically keep his heart from breaking apart. No, no, no. This couldn’t be how it ended. This couldn’t be happening. He wasn’t supposed to lose the one good thing in his life before he ever got to have it.

One minute passed. Then two. Then three.

And seventeen seconds later, the hum returned—along with unimaginable pain.

Relief warred with the agony. His soulmate was alive. Tommy’s vision darkened before he could process anything else.

make me write

[riotwritesthings]

An Agony We Deserve (Throwing Off Sparks)

WinterIron, M, 5.8k, WIP - reluctant soulmates, angst, drinking, mentions of past ships

There are legends. Soulmate bonds have started and ended wars, they used to reshape the world without any warning. People would change in an instant, abandon and betray everything, become completely unrecognizable, but those are just legends- It can’t be- But they are.

This chapter suuuure went a direction. I really hope you enjoy and don't want to burn me at the stake ahaha

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

~~~

Chapter 3: the ceiling starts to swerve

“This is Colonel Rhodes.”

Rhodey sounds exhausted, and stressed, and Tony knows that as usual it’s at least ninety percent his fault. There’s a cacophony of noise in the background, and Tony’s willing to bet that he’s having a hell of a day.

He wishes he didn’t have to make it worse.

“Hey SourPatch,” Tony forces himself to say in greeting, his throat suddenly dry.

“Holy shit,” Rhodey says in a rush of air, his voice dropping in volume halfway through. There’s a shuffling sound, and then all the background noise is cut off by the heavy thud of a door closing. “Tony, what the hell happened?” He demands in a strained, tense whisper, "you- are you okay?"

“I- I’m fine,” Tony lies.

He’d hoped that hearing Rhodey’s voice would feel comforting, familiar.

Instead he feels… nothing.

No, not nothing. He is relieved to talk to Rhodey again.

But it feels more like- Some small part of him is relieved to have a link to the world. Anything outside of this weird little- soulmate bubble they’ve accidentally set up for themselves, some reminder of what’s real. But even that slice of relief is-

Disconnected.

There’s no warmth to it, no rush of calm comfort that Rhodey’s voice usually gives him. He remembers their decades of friendship perfectly clearly, but- There’s no connection to the voice on the other end of the line, like he’s talking to someone else.

Like he’s talking to a stranger.

Tony’s breath catches wetly in his throat and his eyes burn.

Fuck this stupid bond.

It’s already apparently taken most of his self-control and personal space, replacing them both with- with a stranger. It took all of his plans and goals in Berlin, and probably any remaining scraps of trust his team had in him.

And now this inexplicable thing, some weird imbalance of chemicals or something, is taking his oldest, closest relationship.

Barnes- Bucky- is still staring out the front window, keeping an eye out for whatever and pretending not to listen.

Tony is painfully aware of the distance between them, of the tension winding Bucky’s shoulders up tight. Tony can feel it like a pull in his own chest and if the phone weren’t mounted to the wall he would go over there-

He viciously shoves that thought down, shoves down the ache in his sternum.

Rhodey is still talking on the other end of the line, repeating his name in an increasingly frantic tone, and it’s a struggle to focus on that.

It’s so much easier to focus on the mere feet separating him from Bucky, the way it felt to wake up next to him. Whatever it is that’s been twisting Bucky tighter and tighter since they woke up-

“Tony-”

“I’m here,” Tony says quickly. “I’m okay.”

Over by the window, Bucky’s shoulders twitch up a little higher.

“What happened in Berlin?” Rhodey asks, sounding impossibly more freaked out than he had before.

And that’s the big question, isn’t it? Laughter bubbles up in Tony’s chest before he can stop it, high-pitched and hysterical.

“I’m- It’s- I really can’t get into it right now,” Tony says weakly around slips of laughter that he can’t contain, and he can hear Rhodey’s worry spiking.

Reading his best friend even without seeing him is still as familiar as breathing, but Tony doesn’t *feel * anything.

Not like he can feel Bucky trying and failing not to shift on his feet, painfully curious and trying to fight it. Or maybe just trying to hide it, Tony can’t quite tell but he’s sure that if he got closer-

It’s making it really hard to focus on the conversation. And fuck, he wants to talk to Rhodey. He swears he does. But suddenly it’s not as easy as it’s always been.

“Are you-” Rhodey asks carefully, his voice low, “are you still with him? Are you being held captive?”

The ‘again’ goes unspoken and Tony fights down another hysterical giggle.

He is, but not in any of the ways Rhodey would be expecting. He’s being held captive by himself, by an inability to leave Bucky behind that is so deep-set the idea hasn’t even fully occurred to him.

“Yes, but no, he- he’s here, but it’s nothing like that,” Tony says, because that’s the easy answer. “This is not a Taken situation.”

“That’s not- never mind,” Rhodey says, and things must be really bad if he’s not taking the time to correct Tony on the finer points of action movies.

Fuck, why doesn’t he feel anything?

“So- What then?” Rhodey asks slowly, struggling to wrap his brain around the situation when Tony can’t tell him anything. "Did- I mean, you didn’t- did you kidnap Barnes?"

Tony laughs again and part of him wants to say yes. They kidnapped each other, and themselves, and now they’re holding themselves hostage.

But he knows Rhodey is in no mood for vague jokes.

“Why and how would I have done that?” Tony asks with a strangled chuckle. He remembers the way Barnes had been fighting before they ran into each other, all vicious, brutal efficiency. Even if he’d had his suit, Tony’s not sure he could have gotten The Winter Soldier out of there against the man’s will. At least not alive.

"I don’t know," Rhodey says in a huff, annoyance briefly winning out over his worry, “but Rogers is convinced that you absconded with his friend for some reason.”

“Why?” Tony sputters out while Bucky twitches again.

The other man is more tense than ever, wound so tightly that he’s about to snap. Tony can feel it in his teeth and he wants to dig his fingers into the muscles of Bucky’s shoulders, feel the warmth of him as the tension slowly fades-

"You tell me," Rhodey shoots back. "I’ve seen the security footage, Tones, and no one knows what to think. It looks a hell of a lot like the two of you just- left together."

“That is-” Tony says with a wince, “the extremely short version.” He can tell Rhodey is about to jump in with more questions, and Tony really wants to get to the reason he called. “So, what are people saying, exactly? Other than Steve.”

Rhodey lets out a long, heavy sigh, but tells him.

It’s about as bad as he expected.

There are people who think Tony was captured by the mysterious terrorist, and of course people who think he went rogue and recruited Bucky for his own nefarious purposes. About half of the team thinks it’s some kind of mind control, which would probably break Tony’s heart if he stopped to let himself think about it. But he just urges Rhodey to continue.

Ross has managed to convince a concerning number of people who matter that Tony is some kind of sleeper agent for Hydra, taking back possession of their soldier. Which is an insulting angle for the man to take, he can’t even imagine Tony as a high-ranking undercover genius?

And apparently, Steve thinks Tony kidnapped his best friend. Tony isn’t sure if he should be offended or not. Honestly, he can’t figure out what Steve thinks his reason would be.

“All in all, about half the world is hunting the two of you for one reason or another,” Rhodey finishes. He doesn’t waste a second before demanding, "Now are you going to tell me why?

“I’m sorry, Platypus,” Tony says, and he means it. He wishes he felt it. “I just- I couldn’t-”

Tony knows how he wants to finish that sentence.

‘I couldn’t let anyone take him, couldn’t not go with him, couldn’t fight it.’

But he can’t say any of that out loud, it’s still too raw and terrifying even in his own mind. The power that the bond has over him is still- It’s like a light that’s too bright to look at directly, he can’t face it fully yet.

And he definitely can’t put it into words or he’s pretty sure he’ll throw himself right back into a panic attack.

“I- There was- a thing, and we had to get out of there,” Tony finally says weakly. “And I- I can’t explain it any more than that right now.”

He can hear Rhodey’s displeasure with that answer, but Tony doesn’t feel as guilty as he should. He feels guilty that he doesn’t feel more guilty.

Tony’s chest clenches and he can feel Bucky fighting the urge to turn away from the window to look at him.

“I will, eventually,” Tony promises and hopes like hell it’s not another lie. “I just- I have to wrap my head around this first,” he adds, “and- hopefully my brain won’t fucking explode in the process.”

Rhodey blows out a hard sigh and then asks, “You’ve really gotten yourself into it this time, haven’t you, Tones?”

“You have no idea, SourPatch,” Tony says, fighting down another strangled laugh. He tears his gaze away from Bucky for probably the first time in the conversation so he can rub at his dry eyes. “First I have to- fuck, figure out how to fix this.”

“Well,” Rhodey starts slowly, "it would help a whole hell of a lot if you brought Barnes back-"

“No,” Tony cuts him off, surprising everyone with the vehemence in his voice.

When he drops his hand away from his face he catches Bucky’s eye for a moment, wide and so blue, before Bucky whips his head back around to the window.

“I can’t do that,” Tony continues, trying to keep his tone normal, “he- he’s innocent, Rhodey, he wasn’t even in Vienna.”

He doesn’t need Bucky nodding at the window to confirm it, somehow Tony knows. He’s felt it in the confused tension still wound tightly through Bucky’s chest. In the quiet, terrified exhaustion that started to set in as soon as they made it out of Germany.

Bucky doesn’t know why, or how, but he knows he’s being framed. So Tony knows it too. And he knows that true to Bucky’s word, he’s so used to not having control that he’s not even surprised to be used in this new and creative way.

Rhodey sighs. "Well then, bring him back and prove-"

“C’mon Platypus,” Tony cuts him off again, “you know it isn’t that easy. Someone already got to him while he was in ‘safe custody,’ and if that doesn’t happen again then he’s likely to get ‘disappeared,’ and I can’t-”

Tony’s voice comes to an abrupt stop as his chest clenches painfully, his throat pulling tight. The thought of someone trying to take Bucky away-

The force of the fury that rushes over him knocks the air out of his lungs. Through the pounding of blood in his ears all he can think is that he can’t let that happen, he can’t- he won’t.

No one is going to take his soulmate away from him, not at any cost.

Somewhere far, far beneath the weight of that knowledge, the rational sliver of his mind that remains is terrified to find out what price he’ll be willing to pay.

He doesn’t even want a- but he won’t be able to fight it any more than he’s been able to resist the bond until now, he already attacked Natasha without thought- What else would he do-

Bucky lets out a low, pained sound that Tony snaps out of his spiraling thoughts.

The fuzz and dancing spots fade from his vision as he drags in a shuddering breath, and he sees that Bucky is still politely staring out the window. He can tell that Bucky isn’t actually seeing anything though, too caught up in his own thoughts, in the tension pulling his shoulders painfully tight.

Tony forces himself to take another slow breath, and Bucky relaxes minutely.

"Hey, Tones, Tony-" Rhodey is saying in his ear and it filters slowly into Tony’s consciousness, so much less important than watching Bucky’s hand shake as he balls it into a fist.

“Yeah, yeah I’m still here,” Tony forces out, his voice rough.

He must sound really bad, because Rhodey takes pity on him and doesn’t ask any more questions.

“Look,” he says, almost as gently as he spoke when Tony first came back from Afghanistan, “I’ve been working to clear up all the most ridiculous lies. Are you safe right now, wherever you are?”

Tony only has to stare at Bucky’s back for a second before the man nods stiffly.

“As safe as I can be in a haunted shack,” Tony replies with a weak attempt at a smile, hoping that Rhodey can hear it over the line.

“Okay,” Rhodey says, “okay, here’s the plan.”

~~~

Tony is not a fan of the plan.

He doesn’t like that Rhodey is fighting Ross and his ridiculous lies for him. He doesn’t like that he’s just supposed to wait until Rhodey can make sure that they won’t be black-bagged the second they step foot back on the grid.

And he especially doesn’t like that he’s supposed to wait here, in the farmhouse from hell. With its outhouse and its single broken bed.

Despite the size of the mess, part of him had been looking forward to cleaning it up. Arguing with Steve and rich old senators is at least familiar, would make him feel like he still has some semblance of control over his life.

He was really fucking looking forward to feeling in control again.

Instead he’s still stuck out here, just him and Bucky.

It’s like they’ve left the rest of the world behind and Tony- He needs to get back to the real world. He can’t fight the bond but maybe he could- could ignore it a little more with other people around, with all the complicated problems that he can’t- He can barely remember right now.

The Accords, the Avengers, SI and everything, it’s all so far away. And if he doesn’t get back to it soon-

He’s not sure that he’ll want to.

With a frustrated sigh Tony finally stops glaring at the phone hanging on the wall.

Bucky is still standing at the front window, resolutely pretending to ignore Tony’s conversation. Despite everything, Tony feels a tiny smile tugging at his lips.

“Okay, excellent ignoring,” Tony says with a huff, “you can stop now.”

After a second of hestiation, his fists still clenched, Bucky turns to face him again and-

Blue.

Tony’s next inhale is so much easier, like his lungs are filling fully for the first time since Bucky stepped across the shack. It’s so damn nice, all the stress of the phone call melting away. The guilt and the distance of hiding from his best friend are inconsequential.

The real world is all mistakes and panic attacks. Why does he need-

Bucky’s gaze drops to the floor and Tony’s chest pulls tight again.

Something is still tearing Bucky apart, and he doesn’t know what.

It’s been getting worse and worse since they woke up, since whatever occurred to him and ruined their relatively peaceful morning. And Tony doesn’t know what it is.

He doesn’t think it’s just Bucky taking his turn with the panic attack. It’s related to being stuck here for an unknown amount of time, the tension spiked sharply when that part of the plan came up, but that’s not the whole story.

Whatever it is, it’s stabbing through Bucky’s lungs and turning his stomach, making it almost impossible to breathe. Tony can feel it like a phantom pain in his own chest, he can feel it crawling its way up Bucky’s throat.

The silence stretches as Bucky stares at the floor and Tony stares at him. Tony’s pulse is picking up as the tension builds.

It- it’s bad. It’s hanging over them like an anvil, like a guillotine, and Tony stops breathing as Bucky takes a shuddering inhale.

Bucky opens his mouth, and Tony tries to brace himself.

But all Bucky says is, “I was tryin’ not to listen.” His tone is sheepish but his voice is tight, nearly strangled.

Tony lets out a hard rush of air. Part of him wants to pry, most of him wants to pry, but-

He shouldn’t even know that something’s wrong with Bucky. They don’t actually know each other, they met yesterday.

Without the bond he wouldn’t be able to read Bucky at all, or at least not nearly this well. If he tries to pry- It’s like he’s giving into the bond. Accepting it.

And he can’t do that.

So Tony forces himself to let it go, to tear his eyes away from Bucky’s carefully blank face.

“If we’re stuck here, there better be food,” Tony says as he turns towards the small kitchen. “I am not above eating you for survival.”

After a couple of seconds Bucky silently shuffles after him, like he just can’t help himself.

There is food, and most of it is still safely packed in cans and sealed jars. Even if it doesn’t look very appetizing. There’s no coffee, though, which means that Tony’s headache is only going to get worse.

While Bucky hopefully determines if the water is safe, Tony slams through the cabinets a final time. He’s not pouting, but he’s also not actually expecting to find anything else.

Until he discovers the large jar of clear liquid hidden in the back of a high cabinet.

“'S that moonshine?” Bucky asks, suddenly standing just close enough that Tony can feel the rumble of his voice.

“Samanė, I believe,” Tony says, already unscrewing the lid, “which, basically the same thing.”

He’s trying to ignore the shiver running down his spine. And he’s trying even harder to ignore the urge to lean back into Bucky and chase the feeling.

It may not be the best idea at the moment, but Tony does need a distraction. And if he’s stuck here then he’ll take what he can get.

~~~

"This’s strong," Bucky says, squinting into his chipped glass.

Tony hums in agreement.

He’s not sure where his own glass is. He knows he had it when he dropped down onto the couch.

Before he can work up the effort to look for it Bucky is picking Tony’s glass up from the ground and offering it to him. Tony takes it with a grunt of thanks. Bucky quickly returns to staring into his own glass.

His next swig of the strong liquor doesn’t burn, just settles nicely in the warm pit of Tony’s stomach.

The tension is being forcibly melted out of his limbs. All the problems are being drowned out by the pleasant buzzing between his ears.

He considers the other man, because through the warm haze nothing else matters. And he can’t quite remember why that matters right now.

Bucky decided to sit in front of the couch when Tony sprawled out over the entire thing. He’s been shooting Tony increasingly un-subtle looks as they drink. With the way he’s leaning back, if Tony just moved his leg a little it would press against the strong, tense line of Bucky’s shoulders.

Tony takes another sip and forces himself to stay still.

Bucky glances over him again. The faintest hint of pink is spreading across his cheeks.

They’ve been carefully not talking since they started drinking. They don’t really need to.

But Tony still finds himself asking, “Is this- is it doin’ anythin’ for you?”

Bucky looks over at him and Tony tips his glass in explanation. Bucky’s lips twitch as he nods. He returns his gaze to his half-empty glass, then downs it.

"An’ it’s disinfectin’ my throat," Bucky says with a cough and a wince.

“Good,” Tony says as Bucky grabs for the jar again, "pretty sure you’re drinkin’ most of it. And if you’re just doin’ it to feel the burn I will- I’m gonna be mad."

Bucky snorts as he refills his glass.

“And Steve can- can’t even get drunk,” Tony adds.

The words slip out before he can think them through. The way that Bucky flinches minutely at the name isn’t really a surprise. Tony feels bad for bringing it up, he feels-

A lot of things.

He slid further down against the arm of the couch at some point and he’s mostly staring at the stained ceiling. His shin is pressed against the line of Bucky’s shoulders and he doesn’t remember doing that either. It takes effort to lift his head enough to keep Bucky in his field of view.

Now that he’s started Tony can’t seem to stop talking. The words are bubbling up in his throat and he can’t quite remember why he shouldn’t let them out.

So much for their unspoken ‘no speaking’ agreement.

"Still can’t believe he thinks I fuckin’- That I kidnapped you," he says with a snort.

Bucky’s metal thumb moves restlessly around his glass. It clicks against the chipped rim.

“No of-ffense,” Tony adds. He rolls his head along the arm of the couch to stare sideways at Bucky. “You just- you seem more the kidnapper- kidnappy type.”

He watches with fascination as emotions make their way across Bucky’s face. Wondering if he should be offended followed by reluctant amusement. Tony can feel all of it.

And he can feel the cold knot that wraps itself back around Bucky’s lungs as soon as the moment is gone. Tony still can’t put a name to the feeling and he’s getting pretty sick of all the things he can’t explain.

Like what’s bothering Bucky. And the fact that he has a soulmate. And why Steve would even think-

“Wait,” Tony says, failing his way upright. He spills a good half of his drink on his undershirt and takes a split second to wonder when he lost his dress shirt. “Wait,” he says again and has to blink a couple times as the room spins, “wait, did- tell me I didn’-”

He trails off, trying to tell through the haze of liquor if what he’s remembering is real. Bucky looks up at him again, and Tony’s breath catches.

Fuck, when is that going to stop happening? He already has enough trouble breathing.

Bucky is still staring at him and Tony struggles to remember what he’d been about to say.

“Was- Is there any truth to the rumors of- of war-torn lovers?” Tony asks, alarm creeping into his voice. "Did I steal Captain America’s boyfriend?"

The way Bucky’s eyes go wide and his shoulders hunch up around his ears says plenty, even as his mouth opens and closes wordlessly.

Tony groans as he flops heavily back down onto the couch. At least he doesn’t spill his drink this time. There’s a laugh building in his chest, edged with hysteria. It certainly explains a lot.

“I think he might- he might actually kill me,” Tony says to the shifting patterns on the ceiling.

They fall into silence while Tony tries to wrap his head around just how fucked up this is. He can hear Bucky finishing off another glass. His own drink is suddenly sitting a little too warm in his gut.

“It wasn’-” Bucky says slowly and Tony cranes his head around to look at him. “It wasn’ really like that. Or- We jus’- We never-”

“Never quite found the right time?” Tony guesses when he trails off. Because isn’t that how all the tragedies go?

Bucky nods into his empty glass, his expression twisted in misery.

The hot pit of something in Tony’s stomach is getting worse, starting to crawl its way up his throat. He’d almost think he’s about to be sick except-

He’s jealous. It’s jealousy burning its way through his chest, familiar but twisted.

Which is stupid for so many reasons, but the biggest one is that he doesn’t need to be. According to all the legends Bucky can’t- They’re stuck together now. Neither one of them can leave.

Tony has to remind himself that it’s because they don’t have a choice. It shouldn’t be comforting, to know that someone can’t leave him, can never even want to-

No, he wants Bucky- Someone, he wants someone to have a choice about staying with him.

He tells himself that’s what he wants. He wishes he believed it.

“I need more- more booze,” Tony says as he pushes himself upright, "way more booze for this fuckin'- conversation."

Bucky hands him the jar, turning towards him in the process. Tony squints at the amount of liquid remaining before taking a swig directly from the jar.

"You- What’d you mean, rumors?" Bucky asks. His eyebrows are pinched and it’s-

Definitely not adorable.

Tony hums and takes another sip, stalling.

“You, uh-” he says slowly, “the two of you- may have been a brief topic. In my- Um, in my queer history elective?”

Bucky blinks slowly. Then he lets out a long groan and drops his face to the couch cushion next to Tony’s thigh.

“Sorry,” Tony says with a wince and does his best not to laugh. “Is that- Is it better or worse than bein’ a ghost?”

“Worse,” Bucky mutters into the couch.

Tony decides not to tell him about the recovered sketches that were shown in that class.

When Bucky eventually lifts his head again it’s to steal the jar of Samanė back and take a long drink. His face is distinctly more flushed and loose strands of hair are clinging to his forehead.

The rest of the room is spinning, but Tony has no problem focusing on the tired blue of Bucky’s eyes.

Bucky looks away again, embarrassment and some new flavor of guilt twisting him up. There’s no sadness though, and Tony’s pretty sure that’s the reason for at least half of the guilt.

“You- Don’ feel bad,” Tony says and nudges his knee against Bucky’s shoulder. “Who- I mean who hasn’t had a big ol’ crush on Steve?” He adds sarcastically.

He slowly realizes he’d forgotten to add any sarcasm to his voice as Bucky raises an eyebrow at him. Tony could try to play it off, but he can feel his own cheeks warming. And Bucky will see right through him.

“There was a fan club at my boarding school,” Tony says defensively. He’s not sure if it helps his point or not.

Bucky snorts out a laugh halfway through taking another drink and winces. Tony doesn’t feel bad for him. But he can’t stop talking.

"And then I met Steve, which- He’s- I mean, I guess I don’t have to tell you-" Tony finds himself saying, despite swearing he’d never admit this to anyone.

It’s easier than he would have thought. The battle of New York and everything that followed feels so far away now. He remembers all the feelings, the hurt followed by longing and the sting of rejection when Steve- when no one stayed-

But it’s like it all happened to someone else. Like he read it in a story.

Bucky is still watching him, arm propped up on the couch. The flush of liquor doesn’t hide the complicated mix of emotions moving over his face as he waits.

"Not that anythin’ ever- y’know, happened," Tony finishes quickly and doesn’t bother wondering why he needs to assure Bucky of that. “He never- And I’m me, so-”

Tony sinks his teeth into his lower lip, cutting himself off. Bucky’s eyebrows furrow. He starts to open his mouth, and Tony cuts him off too.

“And then someone came back to life,” he says with the best glare he can work up at the moment, “an’ there- there went my chance. Or my delusional dream of a chance, anyways.”

Bucky winces apologetically and offers him the liquor. Tony laughs and takes it while he watches the other man clench his jaw. This time he knows exactly what Bucky is feeling.

“Super weird backward jealousy pangs, right?” He asks knowingly and tries not to be pleased about it. He fails.

A wry smile pulls at Bucky’s lips as he nods slightly. He drops his gaze to the couch and watches himself pick at the worn fabric.

“An’- An’ what about now?” Bucky asks without looking up. “Was- I-Is there-”

It takes Tony a second to figure out what he’s asking, and then he huffs.

“No, no worries,” he says, leaning forward slightly to pat Bucky’s metal elbow. “You’re not the- the homewrecker here, jus’ me.”

For a second he doesn’t even remember that that wouldn’t have been true, a couple of weeks ago.

The breakup with Pepper had been so fresh and raw even- fuck, just a day ago. When he’d been reluctantly admitting it to Steve and fighting down a twisted mess of emotions. Now it doesn’t hurt any worse than when his first crush had laughed in his face.

The soulmate bond makes one hell of a bandaid, and at least that’s something.

Bucky is still staring at him, like he can see Tony going over all of that in his mind. And he probably can. Tony’s hand is still resting on the other man’s metal arm, and he wonders if Bucky can feel it.

The silence stretches and Tony takes an uncomfortable swig of Samanė. He should probably move his hand, but he doesn’t.

“I am- 'M pretty good at chasing people off all- all on my own,” he can’t help adding, and Bucky’s eyebrows furrow again. “Don’ make that face at me,” Tony says and lifts his hand to poke Bucky between the eyebrows instead.

Bucky blinks and his face softens in surprise. Then he laughs, and Tony grins as his heart thumps in his chest. Bucky reaches up to grab Tony’s hand and pull it away from his face. Their fingers fit together without any effort and Bucky’s skin is surprisingly soft against his.

“Why d’you- you keep-” Bucky starts and then trails off, distracted. He runs his thumb over a burn scar on the side of Tony’s hand.

Tony’s breath catches and doesn’t restart as Bucky’s thumb moves down to his palm. He can feel the swirls of Bucky’s thumbprint against his skin. Every drag sends a bolt of warmth through him that the warmth of the liquor can’t compare to.

He inhales shakily when Bucky looks up at him, caught in those blue eyes.

What had they been talking about? He doesn’t remember now.

Bucky licks his lips and Tony stares. The way they’ve been drinking, they probably taste the same- And once the thought hits him Tony has to know-

He’s not sure which of them leans forward. Maybe him, because the room is spinning again. Bucky sighs and Tony can feel the rush of air against his cheek.

Tony shifts his fingers against Bucky’s wrist and realizes he can feel Bucky’s rapid pulse. He’s pretty sure his own heart is beating in time and he’s still moving closer.

It’s like he’s being pulled in, like he doesn’t have a choice.

Does he even need a choice? This feels- Why does he need anything else when this is so-

Right.

He can almost feel Bucky’s lips against his. Tony’s eyelids flutter as he struggles to keep them open.

He wants-

Beneath his fingers, Bucky’s pulse skips. It stops entirely for a terrifying second, then starts racing sickeningly. Something cold rushes through Bucky and he sucks in a sharp breath as he jerks away.

His hand slips away from Tony’s.

It’s just like this morning. The same icy chill running through Bucky as he pulls away. The same gut-twisting feeling that’s- It’s like guilt but so much more complicated.

It's different than when they were talking about Steve, or anything else. It’s-

Part of Tony doesn’t want to know.

Bucky won’t meet his eyes. He’s curling in on himself, withdrawing.

And Tony can’t let that happen. He can’t let this keep happening. He can’t-

He tightens his grip on the nearly empty jar and swallows thickly.

“Alright, out with it,” he says.

“What?” Bucky asks, practically flinching. He pulls his arm off the couch and curls it into his chest.

“Out with it,” Tony repeats, his voice shaking. “Whatever you need to tell me, just spill. It- It’s been driving you crazy all day and that- it’s driving me crazy.”

Bucky goes carefully still. He doesn’t look up. He’s not breathing.

Tony waits. He bites his lip again so he won’t start demanding answers.

There are already so many things right now that he doesn’t know, doesn’t understand. He needs to know.

What could be so bad?

This isn’t- Bucky isn’t supposed to be able to pull away. He can’t, that’s not how it- This isn’t fair.

Tony can’t completely swallow down a hurt noise. His eyes burn. It feels like his chest is cracking open, his lungs filling with ice- with snow-

Bucky’s gaze flicks up to him and then down again, expression pained. Blue eyes haunted.

Neither of them are breathing now.

He can’t stop thinking that none of this is fair.

Tony doesn’t- he didn’t even want a soulmate and now- The thought of Bucky pulling away is gutting him. It’s not fair that something as stupid as a secret is cracking his chest open.

It isn’t fair of him to need answers, either. Part of him knows that. They’d still be strangers, if they had a choice-

But they don’t.

“Bucky,” he says, his voice a harsh croak. A plea. He wants to reach out, but he doesn’t.

The other man flinches like he’d shouted. Tony waits.

Finally Bucky drags in a shuddering breath and tears his eyes away from his own hands. He practically snatches the jar from Tony and finishes off the Samanė in one long swallow.

Tony’s stomach churns as he continues to wait.

Bucky takes another steadying breath and fixes his gaze over Tony’s shoulder. His jaw clenches. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

The crater in Tony’s chest gets deeper.

“N-Nine- Nineteen Ninety One,” Bucky eventually manages to get out. His voice is raw and his eyes are glazed, unseeing. “December n-ninet-teenth.”

That’s all he says for a long moment and Tony is still waiting.

He doesn’t even recognize the date for a split second, and then he’s just confused.

“I-I was-” Bucky continues haltingly. The feeling of cold gets worse. “I- It wasn’ an accident.”

It doesn’t makes sense. Tony knows that date, but it was- His parents died in an accident. He knows that. He-

“What?” Tony asks flatly. Blankly. He doesn’t feel anything. He doesn’t- it doesn’t make sense.

Bucky swallows thickly. His cheeks are wet and all the color has faded from his face.

Tony wants to reach out, but he doesn’t.

He can’t move.

“December N-Nineteenth,” Bucky says again. His hands are clenched together so tightly that they both shake. “It wasn’ an- I-I was there, I- I’m th- I-”

Bucky’s voice cuts off, strangled. He clenches his jaw.

There’s a sick feeling rising in Tony’s throat, and he’s not sure which of them it belongs to.

“You- what’re you-” Tony starts to ask, gasping the words out.

But he doesn’t need to.

Bucky blinks rapidly and then meets Tony’s eye. He looks so-

It-

Everything hurts.

And Tony-

He knows.