#I just want for them to have a happy ending...

[angelluvsrafe]

୨ৎ ── girl back home

- request a fic - masterlist -

— ⋆·˚ ༘ * military!rafe x bunny!reader

rafe’s hands are gentle as he folds his clothes and puts them in his camouflage bag. they’re stacked neatly beside his wallet.

alex, a guy from rafe’s squad, swipes his wallet and opens it with a smug smirk on his face. rafe grabs it back out of his hands and shoots him a quick glare.

“what? i was just gonna show mike your pretty little wife” alex scoffs, reaching for the wallet again.

“if i wanted mike to see my wife, i’d show him.” rafe speaks lowly, his grip tightening on the brown leather wallet.

“come on man… she’s worth showin’ off…” alex continues to press rafe. rafe frowns and shakes his head, deciding not to argue with him, he needs to get home to you as soon as he can.

“no. i’m not letting you guys ogle at her. especially not mike.” he repeats firmly.

“too bad i already got the picture from your cap, huh?” alex chuckles and rafe sighs, he’s fine with him seeing the one in his cap but he’s still not happy. the photo doesn’t show as much of you as the one in his wallet.

the picture is one of you that rafe had tried to sneak, you had caught him and the camera ended up capturing your smile as you laugh as his attempt to take a sneaky picture.

a few of the other guys come over and crowd around alex as he holds the small picture up.

“jesus, rafe. she’s gorgeous.” one of the guys pats rafe’s back and rafe can’t help but smirk. you are, and he’s damn proud of it.

“i don’t know how you got her, man” another chuckles.

“damn, i wouldn’t leave the house if i had a girl like her” someone else quips.

“yeah, yeah… don’t you all have your own pretty wives to go home to?” rafe takes the picture out of alex’s grip and ushers them away. the all move back to their bunks, indistinct chatter filling the space.

rafe couldn’t wait to get home and hold you, hearing all the men talking about you like that made him feel more protective over you. like he needed to hide you from them.

[redrage71890]

Backing Voice (Yan! KPDH x Fem! MC) Part 3

Synopsis: A cancelled live performance and a wave of demonic energy, pushes our girl to her breaking point. All the while her new acquaintance wishes to hear that voice sing once again.

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Slow Burn, Yandere

CW: Medicated Drug, Panic/Anxiety Attack

Prologue, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Word Count: 3.2k A/N: Quite literally thank you guys enough for your support for reading this fic. Also this is just my interpretation of the Saja Boys bc they're basically just their stereotypes in the movie. The interpretations are based off on how other fics write them.

————————————————————

A couple days have passed since (Y/N)‘s encounter with Jinu, she’s had plenty of work to fill her time. Too much in her opinion. The busy schedules and organising interviews and shows for the girls to appear in, not to mention preparing for the live performance coming. Golden featured more of her singing which is a problem for her at the moment.

Her hands won’t stop shaking. The bags under her eyes were deeper than before. Faint red pink lines were forming on her neck and arms from her constant scratching nails. Her eyes twitched whenever she’s met with a bright screen.

She’s at her breaking point.

Tonight is the first live performance and she’s been working nonstop. Bobby was nothing like her current state, though he’s been doing this longer than her. He’s much more relaxed and significantly less stressed than her. But he’s not the one who also does the live backing vocals.

Ever since meeting Jinu, she felt her nerves like usual when talking, but she was happy in the moment for an unknown reason. Maybe it’s because someone acknowledged her singing outside of her space. Perhaps it was a chance of meeting someone new who isn’t familiar as her being a manager for HUNTR/X.

Who knows.

(Y/N) just knows that she wants outside of her bubble.

Interrupting her thoughts was Bobby who came to her side, with a water bottle in hand. “You don’t seem to be going well (Y/N). Are you sure you’re feeling alright?” Bobby worriedly questions.

Time was moving way too fast. It was already rehearsing time for the show.

“Y-Yeah! I’m fine Bobby! Thanks for the water, I’ll tell the girls their on in five!” Quickly grabbing them water and speed walking away as fast as she can.

Pulling along her collared shirt trying to free up more air in her lungs. All the air she was breathing escaped way too quickly. Her chest was hurting like she was hit by a truck.

‘It’s fine it’s fine it’s fine! Just one performance.’

(Y/N) knows they’re eager to turn the honmoon gold, but the world isn't ending anytime soon. A break should be reasonable enough as it is! For gods sake they JUST finished a tour literally a couple DAYS ago.

Take. A. Break.

‘Please….for me I beg…’

Reaching their changing rooms she gently knocks on the door. Hearing a small noise coming and the rattles of the handle, she’s met with the wondering familiar eyes of Zoey and Mira.

“(Y/N)! What’s up!” Zoey greets her as she lunges herself at her body. Encasing her in a tight hug. Thrusted to wake up with her being crushed by the ever sweet hunter. “Zoey! You’re crushing her!” Mira thankfully ushers Zoey to let go. Taking deep breathes to regain her lost oxygen, she glared at the sweet girl, only to be unseen by her.

"*Huff* You're on in five *huff.* Can you relay that to Rumi? *huff* I need to prepare myself."

"Okay. But are you alright? You haven't spoken to us in a while. Since the tour ended. We've been thinking that we should go to dinner sometime, if you're up for it." Mira questions, picking up on the beads of sweat on her forehead.

"We're just worried about you. You kinda avoiding us. W-We just want you to be okay! We can watch some turtle videos if you'd like? Something for us to unwind to. You don't have to worry about singing for a while once this is over."

"Yeah sure sure. Yeah. I'm fine. Just, get ready for the show. Don't worry about me. My voice is fine."

Staggering out immediately after, their worried comments falling on deaf ears.

Hurriedly speed walking towards one of the sound guys and taking a microphone for herself. Digging into one of her pockets and pulling out a container with small individual capsules. Popping one open and picking out a pill inside before throwing it in her mouth. Snapping the water open and chugging half of the bottle to push down the medication.

Her breathing began to calm and her mind felt clearer. But her hands wouldn't stop shaking. A strange mix of calm and nerves waring in her mind and body. Pushing through those feelings and thoughts, her ears pick up the instrumental beginning to play, she puts the mic near her lips.

"I was a ghost, I was alone (Hah)"

"Eoduwojin (Hah) abgilsog-e (Ah)"

"Given the throne I didn't know (Hah) how to believe (Hah)"

"I was the queen that I'm meant to be (Ah)"

Rumi's voice unnerving and only building up to more for later. (Y/N) breathily adding to her words and adlibbing along.

"I lived two lives, tried to play both sides"

"But I couldn't find my own place"

"Called a problem child 'cause I got too wild"

"But now that's how I'm getting paid, kkeut-eobs-psi on stage"

Layering her voice to harmonise with the girls like usual. Holding back until later.

"I'm done hidin', now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be"

"We're dreamin' hard, we came so far"

"Now I believe"

Dragging her voice along for the build up, but it more vocal in volume than usual.

"We're goin' up, up, up"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna bе golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaеjil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

Echoing the words of Rumi and her voice. She continues to push.

"Oh, I'm done hidin' now I'm shinin'"

"Like I'm born to be~"

"Oh, our time, no fear, no lies"

"That's who we're born to be~!"

Raising her voice high to match Rumi but ends up subtly going higher than her. Quickly realising her mistake and at the same speed pushing down her loaded hurls of self-deprecation.

"Waited so long to break these walls down"

"To wake up and feel like me"

"Put these patterns all in the past now"

"And finally live like the girl they all see"

Her silence in the verse made her vulnerable to her deprecating voices in her head. Just enough for a burning sensation to tingle at the sides of her mouth and neck.

Whispering a stream of pleas to quiet her mind.

"No more hiding, I'll be shining"

"Like I'm born to be"

"'Cause we are hunters, voices strong"

"And I know I believe~"

Collecting herself again with continuously shaking hands.

"We're goin' up, up, up!"

"It's our moment"

"You know together we're glowing"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

"Oh, up, up, up"

"With our voices"

"Yeong-wonhi kkaejil su eobsneun"

"Gonna be, gonna be golden"

'When does this end....'

"Oh, I'm done hidin', now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to be~!"

"Oh, our time, no fears, no lies"

"That's who we're born to b-"

'Huh?'

The music suddenly stops as she abruptly ends her note to avoid being heard. Collapsing to her knees and clawing at her neck as the burning turned into an itching sensation.

She can hear Bobby and Mira worrying about Rumi, while she dismisses and tells them to restart the part.

Scrambling up to her feet and halts her scratching with the mic at her lips again.

"I'm done hiding"

"Now I'm shining"

"Like I'm born to b- (cough)"

Stopping her voice and falling to her knees again. A whirling nauseating pain flows through her head. Gripping her temples and clawing down her face to the added pressure.

Just picking up that Rumi wanted to take five, her heart raced even faster.

She couldn't hear anything around her. A white ringing noise filling her ears. Clawing at her ears with her breathing hastening in speed.

"Stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop stop! Shut up be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Shut up. Be quiet. Go away. Go away... (hick)"

A waterfall of tears pour down her face as she quietly sobs, while hyperventilating through her tight chest. Her clawing actions stop at her neck, feeling the sweat sticking to her skin like slime.

The space was unnaturally empty for a busy stage trying to ready for a live performance.

Nobody to see the jagged patterns clawing at her neck. Reaching its way over her mouth.

Scratching and scratching at the patterns while her tears begin to extinguish the burning feeling every time it drips down her chin.

But she suddenly stops.

A silencing sensation abruptly halts her breakdown.

Something demonic was sent through the honmoon.

————————————————————

Her prays were finally met when she heard that Bobby cancelled the performance that night. Visualising her appearance was enough for her to text Bobby about leaving early. She felt horrible to leave everything for Bobby to handle.

But she was in absolutely no condition to help.

Making her own way back to the HUNTR/X tower, she sped her way towards her bathroom. Finally taking a look at herself in the mirror.

'Its still you. At least...'

Chuckling to herself and tracing her lips and along the lightning like patterns. Her usually shaggy short (f/c) hair being an absolute mess with baby hairs sticking to her face around her eyes and cheeks. Peaking through her bangs, staring back at her was a prominent gold and (f/c) tired gaze. The red veins on her sclera being bright and obvious to her crying fit earlier. The faint purple patterns reaching down to her neck, wrapping around the area were her vocal cords are.

Unbuttoning her top and disrobing her wrinkled clothes, discarding them in on the floor. Ruffling her hair and switching on her shower. Dowsing her body with cold water and washing away her tear stained cheeks.

Her first moment of silence since her time at the park.

'I wonder how Jinu is doing...'

(Y/N) has been thinking of the demon, why he was on the surface in the first place. If she considered demons nature, it wouldn't be anything good.

But she had a feeling that's not the only reason being here.

Granted she has no explanation for her reason. And additionally, she knows nothing about Jinu. He just awkwardly complimented her voice and she's the one who left early and brushed off his want for conversation.

'Damn it all! Stupid anxiety!'

Mentally cursing herself aside, she turns off her shower and steps out to wrap her body in a towel.

*Ping!*

She heard her phone alert go off. Drying off her body and stepping into her bedroom, she checked her messages and wasn't sure what to really do.

Zoey: Hey (Y/N)! We're going out for dinner since Rumi came back :D We'll save you a seat don't worry! Zoey: XXX-XXX-XXXX

(Y/N) felt no energy to go out with the girls. But she'll admit, she is worried for Rumi.

Her voice cracking pretty recently is probably making her even more stressed. Perhaps the honmoon turning gold is more important to her than she thought.

But she isn't sure if she's fit to go comfort Rumi.

Her body just feels drained.

"(sigh) What I do for these girls."

Rummaging through her cupboard and lazily throwing on a hoodie and pants. Roughly brushing her hair to to seem less messy and throwing on a pair of sneakers. Grabbing nothing else but her phone.

Entering the streets of Seoul and ignoring the slide comments of some about the cancelled show.

She felt reallllly bad for Bobby.

She's supposed to be one of the managers, but here she is wandering through the night streets and making her way to the girls. Not even bothering throwing her hoodie on because she was just tired.

Not able to pay attention to her surroundings.

*Bump!*

“Oof!” Staggering on her feet she turns around to meet the eyes of the other.

But a gentle smile meets her tiresome face, belonging to the familiar demon and his dreamy brown eyes.

”Jinu.”

”(Y/N)…”

Said demon felt relief to see her again. Her voice has been living in his mind rent free. It made him feel like a person again. Like he wasn’t a being that feeds of the souls and the shame he too feels from his previous actions.

He wants to hear her sing again.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) questions tiredly rubbing her temples. “I wanted to see you again.“ Jinu answers without a doubt. Though he can’t exactly be honest with her. He doesn’t even know if she’s a hunter, or whether once she knows his plan, if she’ll just slice him without hesitation.

But whether she’s a hunter or not, he still wants to see her.

”That’s a bit strange, don’t you think? W-We just met a couple days ago.” (Y/N) blankly states. Even though she wanted to see him again, it was still weird in her head. Jinu on the other hand sweat dropped at her statement.

”One can say that, but I don’t see it that way.” His response wasn’t what she imagined. But to be fair, she wasn’t sure what to think of him. “Ever since I heard you sing, I couldn’t get your voice out of my head. It’s made me…. want to see you again…” Jinu tried to describe how he felt, but even he couldn’t explain it using words.

He just felt comforted yet haunted by her tone and song.

It made him forget.

And it made him curiously want more.

”Hmm…if that’s how you feel.” (Y/N) shrugs her shoulders while muttering to herself. It feels weird to hear someone compliment her, or at least try to.

“But to be fair myself, I liked our little chat before. Even if it wasn’t much.” Her anxiety was subsiding unnaturally. She really did like being in Jinu’s presence.

That little statement was enough for Jinu to look at her like an excited puppy. "Perhaps.....maybe...we could talk more?" The words felt foreign from her mouth, her anxiety still present that just makes her second guess what to say. Nervously scratching the back of her neck.

Jinu gleams at her. "Then, why don't we go now?"

(Y/N) whips her head at him again with a widened expression.

Now? She can't. The girls are waiting for her, she has to know what happened. Something spread a demonic energy through the honmoon. And last she checked, demons don't do that. A tare feels different than what that was.

Whether she likes it or not...

She's considered a hunter.

"Sorry Jinu, I actually have som-"

"Jinu! Buddy, where have you been?"

Cutting her off was the sound of a deeper voice coming from behind Jinu.

Glancing up she catches four figures gathering behind the dreamboat. Two of them had pink hair but in different cuts and hairstyles, while the another had bright cyan underneath a yellow hat and the last having long silver grey with bangs that covered his eyes.

Their faces were alluring. Sculpted by the gods with unfair favouritism. Going all the way down to their bodies and from the sound of it, their voices too. Though even for (Y/N), they seemed way too perfect to be human.

'A group of demons? This can't be for a good reason...'

In the back of her mind, (Y/N) didn't want to fully trust Jinu. His random purpose on the surface is enough to justify her lingering doubts. But she pushed them aside just because she genuinely enjoyed the short time they had talking. Even if it was mainly him trying to talk to her.

The group of boys seemed to rag on Jinu about something like 'dancing' and 'practice.' Which only brought one answer to her mind.

"Are you guys dance training for something?"

Her voice bringing on five sets of eyes on herself. The one with the longer pink hair smirked upon meeting her questioning gaze, unnoting her own flinching back into herself.

"Why yes, are you curious?" He approached closer into her space, shivering at his invasion and taking a small step back to create distance. Jinu notices her uncomfortable expression, coming up to the pink headed demon to prevent going forward.

"Romance, you're making her uncomfortable." Halting his friends actions made the now named 'Romance' stare at him with a bit of surprise. Before Jinu turns his attention back on (Y/N) with a confident smile.

"We are actually practicing. We're debuting as a new boy group tomorrow." His answer brought more surprise to (Y/N)'s face.

"A boy band? I mean....you have the looks for it, can't say anything about everything else." She was just muttering to herself at this point. But Jinu heard what she was saying, taking it as a good sign for him.

"How about you come watch us perform tomorrow."

"Hmm? You sure?"

"Of course, we'll save a special spot just for you."

Well....considering that the girls are probably gonna have the day off tomorrow because of the cancelled show, it'll be good to keep an eye on these demon boys.

As long as they aren't hurting people, she has no reason to send them back.

But another reason popped into her head.

Sighing to herself she just hums and nods her head. "Sure. Why not?"

Jinu's eyes lighted up like fireworks at her response, internally pumping his fist in succession.

"Great! Here's a flyer for tomorrow." Handing her a pretty pastel flyer with the name 'Saja Boys' on the front with a logo of a lion plastered on the centre.

"Thanks. I'll see you tomorrow then." Gently smiling at them before waving a hand and continuing her walk.

Unbeknownst to her, the Saja Boys had differentiating reactions and thoughts.

They were quite intrigued by her. Jinu hasn't been fully present since his meeting with this girl, which got the others curious. He said he couldn't describe the feelings that ignited inside when he heard the girl sing.

Baby and Mystery mainly brushed it off and paid no mind to it. While Abby and Romance were slightly interested but never thought about it further.

That is until they did meet.

And my oh my...

They kinda understood?

(Y/N) from a first glance appeared quite pretty if Romance said so himself. Her baggy attire making her more relaxed and casual than the dolled up girls that he saw around before. But even that extenuated her natural beauty. But her speaking voice seemed to make Romance understand Jinu's fixation just a little bit more. Something melodic about her undertone drew his mind to a strange white noise. It wasn't anything mind numbing or dreadfully empty, it was calming.

Mystery isn't one for speaking but his heart skipped a beat hearing her casually talk. That haunting tone in her voice peaked his interest out of curiosity. But what caught him most was her eyes. A (f/c) gaze with a rim of gold around her iris. How come Jinu didn't mention that?

Abby was curious for sure about this (Y/N) chick. Wondering what the deal is with her said voice. But he was quite intrigued upon meeting the quietly shy girl. How can such a beautifully described voice come out of her?

Baby wasn't listening majority of the time Jinu was yapping about this girl. What was so important that it took that much brain space in that head of his, to the point that it looked like he was in a trance. But even meeting the girl herself, he'd rather see how things play out now that he himself has caught a glimpse of what is so intriguing.

Oh what will happen indeed...

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Edit: Fun fact, the whole panic attack part is based of one that happened to me. My whole anxiety back when I was in school basically inspired this idea in the first place. Also I have no idea why I gave Romance more time than the others, it just happened |(￣3￣)|

Tags: @kitsune-05, @the-bookish-artist, @apelepikozume, @shoopershtar, @ravvilicous, @valeriele3, @vikc, @lasa27, @chipster-321, @greensunflowerjuna, @napbatata, @that-one-girl2020, @tagmepls, @thoughtfulbananaduckcroissant, @minepugs, @crescent-z, @colorfulgardenerduck, @poem-bee, @deityofprocastinating, @0-undead-0, @gremlinartstudio, @jessica-mcd, @strayharmony943, @fruityg0rl, @cherryblossomfox, @aominehaven, @kyxmlii, @ssaischilling, @sweaterkitty-fluff, @historygeekqueen, @satansdaughter123, @theall-seeingone, @nvmkyuu, @amenabii, @julianne1024, @doggyteam2028, @nisarelle, @theall-seeingone, @hi-itsmee28, @celesteelysia, @maritheillusion, @levifiance, @kangsae-byeokfan, @hornehlittleweeblet12, @scara-simp69, @fancyhawk45, @shqyou, @enerofairy, @futuristicdefendorfart, @scentwombatarcade, @eliengoddes, @irethepotato, @sra7riddle-malfoy, @jessica-mcd

[vxnillabxn]

Hello! I’m new to your blog and I have been enjoying your works! With the new banner coming out I thought it would be cute to request the main5’s reaction to MC catching a bouquet at a wedding.

Feel free to ignore if you’re not comfortable!!

𐙚˙⋆.˚ mainfive! x fem!reader ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ fluff, slightly suggestive! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sfw! ꒰੭

𐙚˙⋆.˚ do not translate/copy/repost! ꒰੭

﹙♡﹚AHHH, i actually love weddings. i want to get married, i am a hopeless romantic and i love, love, love this new banner (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) .ᐟ.ᐟ i loved this request, sorry for taking so long! and btw, thank you so much and welcome! feel free to request anytime ♡

𐙚˙⋆.˚ caleb! ꒰੭

caleb and you had known this girl since you were kids, so seeing her in a gorgeous wedding dress and sharing such a special day with her made you both feel so happy and proud.

of course, as you admired how beautiful she looked, he was just looking at you; imagining what it would be like to marry you, to slide the ring onto your finger, to hold your hands shakily as he recites his vows. he's sure you'd look just as radiant —if not more.

he already sees you dressed in white, smiling warmly just for him, holding a bouquet, wearing his ring proudly, and leaning in to kiss him, closing those gorgeous eyes you chose to keep only for him for the rest of your lives.

and he's also sure he'd be bawling the second he sees you, unlike your friend's groom, who is just smiling.

as you two enjoy the ceremony and the delicious dinner in the gorgeous woodland setting, some of the bridesmaids and other young women gather when your friend calls them over.

when she spots you, she waves you over excitedly too.

ah, right. the bouquet toss tradition.

you look back at caleb and grin challengingly.

“what if i catch it?”

he tilts his head, surprised you just burst his daydream, then grins from ear to ear.

“bet.”

you stand up confidently, though you doubt you'll catch it among thirty single women excitedly shifting and jumping around.

you try to pick up the hem of your long dress first, but someone else's heel nearly rips the fabric as it digs in. you frown and lean down, just as the bride tosses the bouquet.

screams, giggles, and squeals fill the air, and when you look up, there it is.

the precious target.

flying straight for your face.

you gasp and try to dodge the others' hands, but end up falling on the soft grass, eyes squeezed shut and your hands clutching the bouquet.

…

wait. clutching the bouquet?

you hear cheering and playful groans as the others leave. when you open your eyes, you realize.

you actually got it!

the bride squeals and rushes to help you up, just as caleb rushes in too.

he picks you up bridal style, wearing the biggest smile. then he glances down at your slightly damp dress.

“not the smoothest catch, pips…”

before you can scold him, he spins you around. if he had the ring right here —it's in his car— you two would already be running away to get married too.

the bride clears her throat, and you both look up at her with embarrassment. right, she's still here.

“so… i hope i get invited to your wedding soon! we all thought you'd be the first. caleb, step up!”

she points at him with narrowed eyes before walking away, obviously teasing.

once she's gone, he hides both your lips behind the bouquet and kisses you sweetly, then rests his forehead against yours and asks:

“you know what this means, right?”

you raise an eyebrow.

“uh… that i won a new centerpiece for our coffee table? or that we're officially being forced to get married?”

he chuckles, carrying you toward your table, or so you think.

“technically, yes. but… it also means we've been blessed to do so.”

you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck, smoothing the front of his formal uniform, then kissing his jawline.

“well, for that to happen, you'd have to propose first, silly.”

but suddenly his playful smile isn't so playful anymore. instead, he turns and starts walking you out of the venue, holding you in his arms, moving a little urgently.

too urgently.

and from the look on his face, you can tell: he doesn't want to steal your friend's day with a proposal, it is her day, after all.

but she won't find out if he claims you as his in every way possible somewhere else, will she?

𐙚˙⋆.˚ rafayel! ꒰੭

rafayel got invited to the wedding of the year after selling some of his pieces to the couple and, of course, making a few connections. sure, he didn't really want to go, until you asked if you could come with him. after all, the groom was a best-selling author you loved, and you wanted to meet him.

needless to say, he suddenly got very excited to go. he helped you with your makeup and hair, helped you find a dress that would match his tailored suit, and that same afternoon, you two were off to a gorgeous island.

the ceremony went beautifully, the dinner offered a wide variety of sea delicacies, and overall, rafayel and you spent the evening chatting and giggling in your own little bubble among the guests.

soon enough, the beautiful bride gathered all the unmarried women to the center of the venue for the bouquet toss tradition.

you rested your head on rafayel's shoulder, sighing softly as you watched the excited crowd. it was a lovely tradition, but you were a bit shy about seeming too eager —or worse, not catching it and dooming your luck with him.

“won't you test your luck, cutie?”

he asked, kissing your cheek, his hand gently caressing your shoulder.

“hm… why would i? do you want us to get married soon, raf?”

even when you secretly wanted it too, you couldn't help teasing him just a little.

his gaze softened, and a faint blush tainted his cheeks before he looked away. he didn't just want to marry you; he needed to, in every sense. but he pouted instead, keeping it playful.

“don't tell me you're scared of not catching it, cutie. doubting your reflexes? that's sooooo not you.”

ah, that taunting tone. you clenched your fists, stood up, and arched a brow at him, pointing your finger in challenge.

“if i catch it, you owe me a big one, fishy.”

he grinned, nodding toward the group with a spark in his eyes.

determined but nervous, you joined the crowd. when the bride tossed the delicate bouquet, your hand shot up and caught it effortlessly.

even you were surprised, but warmth blossomed in your chest. luck was on your side tonight.

you turned back to rafayel with a smug grin as the other ladies clapped and cheered. but his teasing look had softened into something gentler, warmer.

he thought destiny wasn't so cruel after all, since it blessed you two with the luck the tradition promised.

he stood up, took your hand, and spun you around, making you laugh softly at the sweet, spontaneous gesture.

and seeing you like this, holding the bouquet, smiling just for him, he couldn't help but imagine kissing you after you say “i do.”

“i owe you a big one, right?”

you nodded quickly, pressing the bouquet playfully against his chest.

“absolutely.”

he kissed your lips, then pulled back with a mischievous smile.

“then i shall repay you, alright…”

and soon enough, he was leading you by the hand out of the venue, down to the moonlit beach, hiding behind the docks.

you asked what he had in mind between soft giggles, and he answered by kissing you. it was slow, deep, and tender.

maybe he'd ask what you wanted as your prize, or maybe he'd just silently wish for this luck to stay with you both as he claimed you under the stars, away from everyone else.

for now, this was enough, until he could give you everything properly: his heart, his body, his soul… sealed forever with a wedding ring, even when they were already yours, completely so.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ sylus! ꒰੭

it wasn't your fault. he came to visit you during a mission, and you had to get him out of there urgently before someone saw him, despite him moving as slow as a snail just to annoy you.

heels clicking sharply on the ground, a frown on your face, and your hands gripping him tightly were clear signs of your frustration.

when you two finally got away, you dragged him to a secluded corner to scold him.

“sylus, i'm quite literally undercover right now. you can't just barge in and start asking for me!”

he just looked down at you with amusement, then glanced back at the elegant wedding ceremony you were at moments ago.

“it is quite… tasteless.”

you sighed, rubbing your temples.

“what are you, a wedding critic? i'm being serious, sylus.”

he smirked, stepping closer until his hands settled on your hips.

“don't i look serious too, sweetie?”

you looked up, trying hard not to give in. you really couldn't risk drawing attention to yourself.

“sy…”

“you could've invited me, kitten. i'm not one to turn down your invitations.”

“sy, you draw attention everywhere you go. i don't need to end up in the spotlight.”

he clicked his tongue and took your hand gently in his.

“you'll find a way to shine either way, sweetie. you're far too bright not to.”

then, softly but firmly, he guided you back inside to attend the ceremony, leaving you no choice. you couldn't risk another dramatic scene.

a few glasses of champagne and being beside sylus eased you, just a little. he reassured you that if anything went wrong, he'd handle it.

after a soft kiss on your temple and his large hand resting on your thigh, you finally started to enjoy the ceremony for what it was.

that is, until the bride, a young and enthusiastic woman, called all the single ladies to gather for the bouquet toss. you tried to stay back, but sylus nudged you forward, his hand at the small of your back.

you panicked.

“sy—”

“you'd look more suspicious if you don't go. you're supposed to be a guest, aren't you?”

you shot him a look of disbelief but reluctantly stepped into the group. you didn't want the attention… but deep down, catching the bouquet felt like it would be something soft and magical, like destiny blessing your love life.

and somehow, the bouquet landed almost perfectly in your hands. you weren't sure if you imagined the faint, dark red mist that trailed behind it… or if sylus had done something he absolutely shouldn't.

your heart pounded as the other women glanced your way —a stranger among them— but they quickly cheered, assuming you were another guest.

you returned to sylus' side and gently set the bouquet down on the table, still feeling the adrenaline.

“i suppose i should congratulate my gorgeous future bride.”

you looked up, catching the playful glint in his eye before he leaned down and kissed you, slow and deep, brushing his tongue lightly against yours.

when he pulled back, you gazed at him, breathless and a little dazed.

“sylus… this bouquet means—”

“it does,” he cut in. “i usually don't care about rules i didn't set myself, but… i could make an exception for this one.”

he straightened and offered you his arm.

“don't worry, kitten. our wedding shall be far better than… whatever this is.”

you rolled your eyes softly but took his arm anyway.

“sylus, my mission…”

he just gave you that look —the one that made your knees weaken every time.

“...okay. let's go.”

you whispered, and he hummed in approval before quickly leading you away.

he hadn't planned on whisking you home right in the middle of your mission… but he'd enjoy this outcome all night long, as he started to plan the perfect wedding, and showed you exactly how perfect of a future groom he could be.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ xavier! ꒰੭

xavier and you were mindlessly walking around the main street, where a festival was in full blast. the weather was perfect, the atmosphere upbeat, and it felt like the perfect, spontaneous date.

you saw tons of game stalls, food stands, and a big main stage where people waited patiently. it was decorated with delicate flowers, white lace, and some objects you guessed were props for a show. you didn't know exactly what for, but xavier was curious, so you both stayed.

when it started, a couples game was announced, and five couples were randomly chosen to go on stage. the winning couple would get to “marry,” receive a cute certificate, some photos, a candy ring, and a beautiful bouquet, all just for fun.

xav and you watched until the very end, clearly rooting for an elderly couple who were —of course— already married, but still wanted to show how much they loved each other.

after a series of silly but sweet games, they won. the old lady then got to toss the bouquet. sure, the crowd was packed, and you wanted to join in, but you were a bit far from the stage, and the other girls were going wild. xav, though, noticed your bright, hopeful eyes and had to do something.

“hold on tight.”

he whispered softly in your ear before lifting you over his shoulders. you gasped, clinging to him just as the bouquet flew into the air, tossed a bit too powerfully.

that old lady still had some strength.

it wasn't exactly fair to the other girls jumping around, but their boyfriends weren't even trying to help them out —so maybe it was a sign for them not to marry those dummies.

you lunged forward and caught the bouquet, a huge smile spreading across your face as you started to cheer. some girls groaned, others sighed in adoration, watching how xavier acted like such a prince just to help you.

when he heard your cheering, he knew you'd caught it. he couldn't see anything from below, but he smiled and gently set you back down, pulling you into his arms.

“i got it, xav!” you beamed. “does this bouquet count? i mean, it's not from an actual wedding…”

you giggled, looking down at the flowers in your hands.

he looked at you holding that bouquet, smiling so softly, and this man just couldn't wait any longer to see you at the altar.

“let's get married.”

he said it quickly, then nodded once, as if making sure there was no doubt in his voice.

“let's be together… until we look like that couple, and even after.”

he gestured toward the elderly man, who was shakily slipping the candy ring onto his wife's wrinkled but delicate finger. they shared a gentle kiss, and the crowd burst into cheers.

you grinned, hugging xavier tightly and peppering his cheeks with light, happy kisses.

“let's!”

you nodded eagerly, letting him take you away from the crowd, feeling his heart already racing and his palm turning warm and sweaty at the thought of people calling him your husband one day.

and he went straight to the jewelry shop. he didn't care if you knew he'd propose, or if you picked the ring yourself. he just knew he'd do anything to make you happy, and if that made him happy too, then there was no time left to waste.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ zayne! ꒰੭

zayne got invited to a wedding. one of his teachers had a son, and he was getting married this weekend. of course, zayne wanted to go, since he held the professor in high regard.

he asked about your schedule first, and when you casually told him you were free, he automatically invited you. as you two rarely have the same free days, you agreed right away.

the wedding set-up was breathtaking. honestly, you'd never seen something so intricate, so lovely, so pure. the groom stood proudly, and the bride looked like a princess.

you kept glancing up at zayne from time to time, feeling slightly giddy before nuzzling against his arm. what would marrying him be like? you couldn't picture the exact wedding, but you could already feel butterflies blooming all through your body.

he gazed down at you before kissing the crown of your head. he was, of course, picturing it too, already running through the logistics in his mind.

after a while, you stood up and walked over to the dessert table, picking up a few things to bring back, as other guests were doing too. you hummed softly to yourself, walking back with a full plate next to a sweet, older lady.

but then, a group of ladies gathered in the middle of the way, and when the bride tossed the bouquet, it flew right toward the elderly woman. the other girls rushed forward, and you gasped. they'd crush the poor lady!

you stepped in front of her, holding your hand up and clutching the dessert plate for dear life.

the bouquet smacked against your palm, and you instinctively grabbed it, a bit harshly, honestly.

the ladies gasped and backed away, quickly apologizing once they realized what almost happened.

the older woman thanked you over and over, and zayne was by your side in seconds.

you let out a relieved sigh and handed him the plate.

“phew… here you go. that was crazy.”

he looked down at you, then pulled you into a soft hug. when he stepped back, there was an amused grin on his face. he took the plate and set it on a nearby table.

“you saved the groom's grandmother.”

you glanced back and saw her laughing with zayne's professor about what happened, shaking her head fondly.

zayne checked you over quickly, then tilted your chin up.

“and you also caught the bouquet.”

“oh, you mean this beautiful thing? yeah, it was super easy,” you teased, shrugging.

he smiled.

“if i'm not mistaken, that means our wedding shall be the next.”

“oh? i didn't think you'd believe in those traditions, dr. zayne.”

he laughed softly, more like a quiet sigh.

“i believe in our love, and i want us to marry.”

your gaze softened, and you smiled, feeling that giddy warmth all over again.

“i'd love that.”

he cupped your cheeks gently, but just then his professor walked over.

“ah! if it isn't my prodigious student and the hero of the day!”

zayne smiled softly and dipped his head, and you greeted him politely.

“i must say, never did i imagine zayne meeting such a brave partner. you two make a beautiful couple.”

you smiled warmly at the genuine compliment, and zayne subtly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you a bit closer.

“if you two need anything at all with the wedding, please let me know.”

after chatting a bit more and enjoying the ceremony, you two finally headed out to his car.

zayne didn't waste a second opening the door for you, but before you could get in, he leaned forward, trapping you gently between him and the seat.

“so, it's decided then. people already assume we'll get married, you caught the bouquet, and we both want it, don't we?”

you looked up at him, fingers brushing over his tie before giving it a soft tug.

“mhm. you should kneel and propose to me then, dr. zayne.”

and kneel he does. he doesn't have the ring yet, but there are plenty of ways he can think of to propose… or, alternatively, plenty of ways to show you his devotion tonight.

or even right there, kneeled and ready to love you, away from prying eyes.

[majestyeverlasting]

Would you do a inexperienced reader x joel? For your requests😊

𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing joel miller x female reader

summary you stay the night at joel’s because it gets harder to leave every time [no outbreak, fluff, smut, wc 3.5k] 

a/n really enjoyed writing this request! there's something about a man who's mature, and attentive, and knows what he's doing...

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

Stay. The request repeats in Joel’s head like a broken record, but never weakens or distorts. It teeters on the tip of his tongue, but he has yet to utter the word out loud. It persists as he sees you to the front door and watches you step into your shoes to mark the end of another memorable night. One that made him realize he very well may be in love. 

Part of him always feared he wouldn’t be able to recognize the feeling when it arose, that it’d slip between his fingers before he could curl them and hold on tight. But Joel knew it was love because it had gotten to the point where even your laughter knocked him off his feet. He was so attuned to your happiness that he clung to every iteration. 

A small smile settles on your face as you meet his gaze, purse on your shoulder, ready to go. Joel rubs the back of his neck, but he’s not nervous. He knows what he wants to ask, and the raw energy of that desire buzzes beneath his skin. 

“Feels like you just got here,” he laments as he lowers his arm. If that were true, the moon and stars wouldn’t be visible in the night sky. 

You nod despite the fact that you’d eaten dinner with your knee against his, talked through a movie tucked into his side, let yourself relish the comfort of being in his home. These days, it feels like yours too. 

“You make it harder to leave every time,” you admit. It’s a light dig.

Joel tilts his head just enough for you to notice. “Do I now?” 

You nod thoughtfully. “You treat me really well,” you say. “Really, really well.” That hadn’t been the case with everybody who entered into your life. Perhaps you’d already expressed that to him in a million different ways, but the emphasis doesn’t feel wrong on a night like this. 

You’ve never had a relationship as steady and constant as what you have now with Joel. The sincerity of  your words warms a proud part of him. 

“I’m happy to,” he says. “You know that, don’t ya?” 

That’s what terrified and delighted him—the ease of it all. Maybe things would be different if it felt like a chore. 

“I know.” 

A smile tugs at Joel’s lips as he steps closer. “Also reckon you know I gotta steal one last good night kiss.” 

Butterflies burst to life in your stomach when Joel cups your cheek and presses his soft lips to yours. He pulls away much too soon, and you’ve never felt the lingering ache of want quite like this. The feeling weaves itself between the bones of your ribcage. 

“I’ve been thinkin’,” he starts, hopeful. “Would you wanna stay the night?” 

A lump forms in your throat. You hadn’t brought any extra clothes or toiletries. And you’d left the light on above your stove to ensure you didn't come home to a dark apartment. Even then, the response to Joel’s question is a reverberating yes in your mind. It’s the only answer that makes sense when you’ve been unsure about so many decisions in this life. 

“If you’ll have me.”  

He kisses you in place of an answer, large hands kneading your waist like you’re his tether to Earth. A small sound rises up your throat when his tongue runs over your lower lip in a light, almost ticklish sweep. 

Joel pulls away, eyes searching yours. 

“M’sorry,” you breathe shyly. 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. “I like hearin’ ya.” 

The new warmth that spreads through you is deeper, unfamiliar, more consuming. Joel has never been one to refrain from dishing compliments or a well-timed remark. Now something different burns beneath the gruffness of his voice. 

“Wish I heard you more sometimes,” he continues. “You’re my little church mouse.” There’s a disarming glimmer in his eyes.

You pout as a smile threatens to break through. “No I’m not.” 

You could be loud if you needed to be. Joel had the singular ability to hear you even when you hadn’t said a word. You never had to vie for his attention or assert yourself for fear of going unheard. 

As a stillness settles between you, he slips his thumbs beneath your shirt to brush your stomach. He smirks when you look down at his hands to escape his gaze. 

A pleasant flame has kindled within you.  

“Might as well get comfy again since you’re stayin’,” he says, then amends, “Since you can’t seem to get enough of me.”

You huff a laugh and look up at Joel again. He’s handsome in the dim light of the foyer. A few strands of silvering hair fall onto his forehead. His dark eyes bear that same intensity that always drew you in instead of away. This time, it’s you who raises a hand to his face. Your fingertips run over his prickly scruff, and his eyelashes flutter when you run a finger down the slope of his nose. 

That indescribable tug within you hasn’t faded away 

“Like what you see?” Joel asks, voice low, partly teasing. 

He doesn’t move for fear you’ll pull away. You trace the dip of his Cupid’s bow, and when you go lower, he puckers his lips against your finger in a delicate kiss. Your gentle touch and heavy eyelids have made more warmth kindle low in Joel’s belly. It’s your thoughtfulness that does it for him. You’ve never been quick to rush into anything. You always think, then think some more, and he can see that’s what’s happening now. 

“I’ve always liked what I’ve seen,” you finally say. 

“Well, there’s a whole lot more of me.” He presses in. “We can take this upstairs if you’d like.” 

“Alright,” you murmur, lowering your hands from his face. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

Joel offers his hand. It nearly engulfs yours as he leads you towards the staircase. 

•••

In his bedroom, his lips find yours in an fervent kiss, hands firm where they grasp along your sides. You’re so dizzy, you lose track of everything except Joel. Reality rushes in when you begin to fall backwards. 

After your back hits the mattress, Joel’s plush lips trail a line to your jaw and down your throat. His body is solid above yours, but you don’t feel the brunt of his weight. Your hands shakily comb through his disheveled hair as your heart hammers in your ears. It feels like you’re a live wire and he’s the water making you spark. 

When he stands, leaving you lying there, the rise and fall of your chest is embarrassingly pronounced. You watch with hooded eyes as he pulls off his shirt. Wispy hair is splayed across his chest, and a darker line of it leads down from his navel. He’s broad and rugged. 

“Told you there was more,” he drawls with a smile in his voice. 

You’ve never wanted another person as more as you want Joel now. But you can’t help but be aware of the fact that you’re out of your depth. Aside from what you’ve gathered vicariously, this is new. You don’t have half the courage you imagined you would. 

You manage to push yourself upright on shaky arms. That’s when Joel notices the look in your eyes. 

“I didn’t hurt ya, did I?” his brows furrow with worry. “M’sorry.”

You swallow and shake your head. “I’m just a little nervous.” 

“Nerves are okay,” he assures. “Long as you want this.”

“I do,” you promise. 

Joel studies you to be sure. “I want you real bad, but the world’ll keep turning if we don’t have sex tonight.” 

There’s something about his shamelessness and directness that makes you want him even more. 

“Don’t wanna screw this up.” You exhale a self-deprecating laugh, and Joel purses his lips. Then the deeper truth comes out, “Want it to be good for you.”  

Joel scrubs at his scruff with a husky chuckle. “Got me all wound up, so I’d say you’re off to a helluva start,” he says, then his gaze softens. “It’s already good for me.” 

His words give you enough courage to lift your shirt over your head. Your bra is trimmed with lace, and the crotch of his jeans grows tighter. You’re so beautiful that sometimes he can’t believe it—mind and body. 

You still his hands as he begins to unbuckle his belt. 

“May I?” The way you blink up at him makes him curse under his breath. 

You pull his belt free from the loops when you’re done. After popping the button and dragging the zipper down, Joel goes weak in the knees when you peer up at him with a sweet, shy smile. Then his breath catches when you lean forward to kiss the pudge of his belly. You bite your lower lip as he pushes his pants down and kicks them to the side. 

The bulge between his muscular thighs is prominent through his gray boxer briefs. It swells as you unexpectedly unclasp your bra and toss it to the floor. 

“Christ, sweetheart,” he groans, palming himself. 

With his free hand, he gingerly cups one of your breasts and runs his thumb over your pebbled nipple. The sensitivity makes you jolt. 

“Wanna scoot up the bed for me?” 

You move before the full sentence has left Joel’s mouth, a little braver now. The mattress dips as he crawls overtop of you. It all happens so fast. His lips find the pulse point of your neck, then descend along your sternum in a line of kisses. He strays off course to pepper some over the supple skin of your breasts, then even lower. Your hips shift as he kisses your stomach. 

With deft fingers, he undoes your shorts and helps you shuck them to the floor. Joel guides your knees to a propped position, then lays between your legs like he belongs there. The muscles of your thighs twitch with the threat of closing as his finger teases along the seam of your panties. 

“Joel…” you say his name because you’re not sure what else to say and it feels like you’re on fire. 

“Just admiring,” he assures, stilling. “You doing okay? Just say the word.” 

The thought of this ending pains you. “Please don’t stop.” 

Joel hides his knowing smile in the hot kiss he presses beneath your bellybutton, then over the top of your mound, then over the damp fabric where you ache for him. An unsteady breath leaves you when he hooks both index fingers beneath your waistband and stares into your eyes so deeply you want to hide. 

“How ‘bout we get these outta the way...” 

Joel is nothing short of careful and attentive as he drags the fabric down your legs. Upon resettling between them, he kisses your inner thighs, noting the way your muscles jump. He’s so close, the fan of his breath feels cool where your arousal has gathered.

“So here’s the deal,” he starts in a low timbre that makes you clench around nothing. “I’m really good with my hands… amongst other things.” He pauses to trace the crease of your thigh. He’s surprised his own voice doesn’t waver at the sight of you glistening for him, because of him. “Just gotta let me know when something’s workin’ for you and we’ll be aces.” 

It’s a miracle you don’t melt straight through the mattress. 

“Okay.” It’s your quietest response all night. 

“Okay,” he parrots with a glimmer in his eyes. 

You’ve never been this turned on in your life. This hot. 

“I don’t think I’m gonna make it,” you admit in a murmur.  

The thicker, dazed quality of your voice makes Joel kick up in his boxers. As his lips twitch in amusement, he fights the urge to take you right this second. 

“Guess we’ll pray for the best then.” 

The world freezes when the pad of his middle finger finds your clit and begins to rub firm circles. When your brows pinch together, he trails it downwards through your slick entrance as it flutters in want. 

He ventures back to your swollen bud to work a steady pace. The pleasant tension within your core roots even deeper than before, snaking and expanding. Holding your breath and tensing your muscles seems to make it swell faster. 

“Relax, sweetheart,” Joel soothes. “It’ll feel better on the tail end if you do.” 

You’re too worried he’ll stop not to listen. 

“There ya go,” he praises. “Think I’m ready for a taste.” 

There’s no further preamble before he presses a feathery kiss to your clit. At your jolt, he suckles it into his mouth and feels out your reactions. Your fingers immediately curl into his taupe sheets, but that’s not enough, so you bury them in Joel’s hair to scratch against his scalp. The stimulation paired with the warmth of his mouth grows to be so much that your thighs involuntarily close around his head. His stubble prickles against your velvety skin. 

The vibrations of Joel’s hum remind you that he’s a real person down there, and you force your legs back open with what’s left of your coherency. He rewards you by running the flat of his tongue from your opening to your clit. Electricity prickles beneath your skin as you arch off the bed to chase him. 

This time, he sucks your clit into his mouth with more pressure than before and you lose yourself in the sensation. 

Before long, he lifts up and replaces his mouth with his finger. 

“Feelin’ good?” His question comes as you cant up into his touch with a quivery breath. “What’s my baby want more of?” 

You whimper because, as impossible as it seems, he hasn’t done anything you don’t prefer. You want more of everything—whatever he’s willing to give. If he does happen to fall off the mark, you’re certain he’ll find it again before you even say a word. 

Joel is gracious enough not to make you spell it out. He takes it upon himself to draw an orgasm so strong and concentrated out of you, that all you can do is shut your eyes and surrender to the swell as he sees you through. 

Your eyes flutter open just as he shuffles back off the bed to push his boxers down. His cock lifts towards his stomach in a smooth, impressive swing. Traversing veins are strained along the length of him and his mushroom tip is flushed in a testament to his need. Dark, wispy curls surround his base. 

A fresh surge of eagerness and anticipation warms you down to your toes. Joel smiles shyly when your eyes flit up to his, and it’s the first time all night he’s looked a little self-conscious. You’re the first person he’s bared himself to in quite some time. 

Words escape you as he crawls back over your frame. He braces one hand beside your shoulder and uses the other to give himself a few tugs to ease the ache. You’re beautiful beneath him, all wide-eyed and longing. 

His stomach clenches when you reach out to replace his hand, tentative and careful as if he’ll break. You give him a couple strokes, and even though there’s a bit more friction than he would normally prefer, it feels good because it’s you. He’s rigid in the palm of your hand, throbbing in dull pulses. You’re not sure if gorgeous is the appropriate word, but it’s the only one you can think of. 

“I’ve been missing out,” you lilt after working up the courage. 

Joel flushes as he laughs, those lovely crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He lowers to kiss you, then guides the tip of his arousal to your cunt. The beady pearl of his wants mixes with the glide of you, and you frown when he stops to reach towards the nightstand drawer. 

As he resumes his position, you realize he’d grabbed a condom. He rips the packet open with his teeth and promptly rolls the rubber down himself. 

“Think m’gonna pass out if I don’t get inside you soon,” he says, eyes searching yours to check in. Even in his brazenness, there’s a familiar honeyed quality to his voice that sets you at ease. 

You laugh even as a small spell of apprehension returns. Joel notices, and refuses to let the levity dissipate so you don’t fall back into your head. 

“Is that funny?” he asks in feigned offense. “You’re the one who’s got all the goddamn blood in my head rushing south.” 

He playfully pinches at your waist and a breathless giggle stutters out of you as you squirm. When you helplessly look up at him, Joel smooths a hand over your skin as fondness settles in his dark eyes. 

“Hey. Remember what I said?” he asks as he lines himself up between your thighs. “Just say the word.” 

The sensation of him pressed hot and heavy against your entrance has cleared everything from your mind except desire. 

“I’m okay.” An encouraging smile pulls at your lips. “Just need you really bad, Joel.” 

Hearing his name makes him twitch as he runs himself through your folds. 

“M’right here, baby.” He notches at your entrance. “Deep breaths for me, okay?” 

A dull ache thrums through you as Joel eases into your warmth. You whine after the thickness of his tip has breached. 

“That’s it,” he coos. “Just like that.”

All you can do is hum airily and watch where he disappears within you.

“Feels like heaven already,” he compliments. “Keep breathing, we’re getting there.” 

Tears prick in your eyes because the stretch is new, and beautiful, and overwhelming. That soft, focused look in his eyes only adds fuel to the fire because pleasure and eagerness burn just beneath. You never realized how harrowing it was to be wanted so intensely. For the longest time, you wondered if it was possible for someone to feel such a way about you, and here Joel was in the flesh. 

“Know there’s a lot of me,” he grits. “Doing so well…”

When he bottoms out, both of you sigh in relief. It feels like you’re floating even though you’re pinned beneath his strong frame. Warmth radiates from his skin. 

“Oh—god,” you breathe. 

Joel chuckles as he eases out of you, “Close.” He thumbs a circle around your clit. 

The initial pressure subsides as Joel begins to thrust, biceps flexing as he shudders with pleasure. He takes it slow and steady, each drag more intoxicating than the last. His reach deepens as he lowers himself onto his forearms and you hook your ankles around the backs of his thighs. Stroke after stroke, he hits that spongy spot within you just right. Joel can hardly believe how snug and warm you are. 

“You’re in trouble,” he rasps. 

“W-why?” you whimper. 

“I’m never gonna get my fill of this.” 

You paw at his biceps and shoulders, not exactly sure how or where to touch him to ground yourself. Scratching your nails down his back earns a satisfied growl, and when you dig your fingernails into the meat of his backside, he gives a pointed thrust that makes you bite back a cry. 

“Lemme hear those pretty sounds, mouse.” 

You’re unable to help the next breathy moan that escapes you. 

“You’re perfect,” The moment has you so blinded that’s all you can see him as—his cock included. 

It’s a broken confession.

Joel dots a few lazy kisses over the apple of your cheek, then touches his forehead to yours. It’s almost too much—his wrecked grunts, the graze of his chest, the sound of skin meeting skin where he stretches open the most tender part of you. 

It is too much.

“I’m gonna—” your breath catches in your throat. “Joel.” 

“Let go for me, babygirl,” he coaxes. “Lemme have it.” 

The tension embedded within you winds undone in an instant. Pleasure radiates as your walls contract around him in strong, rhythmic pulses. In another life, where he wasn’t completely gone and taken by you, Joel would’ve been able to hold out. But he’s only a man. 

A gasp escapes you as he gives one last deep thrust. His balls draw up as the insistent tug low in his gut drives him to spill into the condom, stomach tensing with each relentless spurt. You rub his back as he rides it out with a shudder. You’re achy, but more than content to shiver through the aftershocks. The two of you stay like that for a while, basking in each other’s closeness, the haze. Still joined as one. 

Something in the air shifts, the gravity of it all finally pressing in. 

Joel looks spent and satiated as he lifts up to meet your gaze. “You okay?” he wipes the tear off your cheek. The way you look at him suggests you’re expecting him to answer for you. As if you’ll be whatever he says. 

“You’re okay,” Joel decides, kissing your forehead. 

You weakly cup his cheek and guide him to kiss you. 

“I love you,” he whispers against your lips. 

Your chest flutters. “I love you too.” 

All Joel can think about as he reluctantly slips out of your heat is that he’s glad you stayed. When he begins to soothingly massage your thighs, you’re almost certain you’ll never want to leave again. 

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please know that you’re feedback means the world to me. I love reading your thoughts and it makes writing for you guys all the more worth it. Likes, comments, and reblogs greatly appreciated. ♡

JOEL MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[dabaotogo]

Return to Sender

soulmate au but with yandere phainon

tw: yan content, phainon crashing out, implied coercion/ forced relationship

written before 3.4

wc: 1k

minors and ageless blogs do not interact with my posts. i do check and i do block

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

He's thought about his soulmate countless times.

It kept him up during sleepless nights. Back when his world hadn't been forced to expand just yet; when the edges of his world just happened to align with the walls of his village. Sometimes he'd spend those nights outside on the fields staring up at the star-littered sky with his big wide eyes while he imagined how the first meeting would entail. What do you think they'll look like? He'd occasionally rope in Cyrene with his questions, swinging his feet as he looked to the sky. Would they be taller than him? A pretty voice that reminded him of wind chimes on the first day of spring? He would come up with all sorts of scenarios, vividly crafted together into something beautiful, something tangible, alongside with what his first words would be to the one he knew he would happily spend the rest of his life with.

He's pestered his parents. Talked their ears off into giving as much detail as to how they found each other through their own red string that no one else could see but them. The feeling of meeting your other half. The happiness in following the other end of the rope.

Every word of his parents' union had been memorialized inside his head. He knew every detail off by heart and he saw the adoration reflected in their eyes, how their smiles had matched, the entwined hands that he'd imagined were adorned in red threads.

The idea of a soulmate — even after losing his home — his friends — his family — that there was still something good left that had survived and remained untouched by the black tides. There was still something at the other side. That his life was more than just revenge and hate. Something at the other end of the rope that could keep him going. Tucked away. Protected and hidden from the cruelties of a harsh and lonely world that belonged to a boy who had only ever wanted to be his village's little hero.

(Unblemished. Pure. Unstained.)

Which is why it breaks him. Tears him into tiny little pieces to the point it feels like every part of him is dying from his soulmate rejecting him.

The string thickens the closer the soulmate is. Twisting itself together to form something more akin to a rope and less of a flimsy thread. The kind he's seen fishermen on their boats use to knot around a heavy anchor before being thrown into the sea to sink down in the deep waters. Held in place.

The colour is a bright red. A beautiful shade.

You won't look at it. You won't even look at him. At the thing tied around your wrist to his own. He sees what looks like to be disappointment from the ways your eyes are casted downwards, mouth forming a small quiet oh. Like it had to be him of all people. As if you had hoped it would have been someone else. Perhaps there had already been a face in your mind. There is no fanfare. No smooth first words designed to swoop you off your feet. Just an agonisingly awkward silence hanging above both your heads where the two of you are standing to the side in the quieter parts of Okhema's market alleyway, away from the bustle and for some privacy.

Phainon wants to cry.

He almost loses it. Almost taking it out on you. Scaring you by begging for a reason. He couldn't even fathom the possibility as it had never been on his mind. It would have been easier had you even had an existing lover. At least there would have been a reason (motive).

You're just scared. It's natural. It's to be expected to be overwhelmed by the idea of knowing he is your fated one just as he is yours. He's a Chryso Heir. The fame and status is hardly helping his situation here.

He supposes even if you were soulmates, you're still technically strangers.

But that's okay. He can be patient. He can be good. For you. He can give you space as you get to know him better. He'll endure every sting when you shirk away from his touch. Just give him a chance and you'll see. He can show you that he can make you happy. So what if the first meeting had gone terribly? Who cares if his first words were all jumbled and practically incoherent, lost to his nervous laugh. This was what love was. It wasn't perfect. It was ugly. It was addicting.

The threads may tangle itself into an terrible mess of a mishappen shape to choke on.

But it will never break.

(You can run to the other side of the universe and he'll still find you. All he has to do is follow the red string.)

Love is selfish. It was selfishof him. And it was wrong. Using the string to tug you back when you try to avoid him. Announcing to the people he too had found his beloved and what followed was a cacophony of erupted cheers. He makes sure the people commit your face to their memories. So that there is always congratulations ready on hand and the occasional envious stare to the side. So that you're isolated (reduced down) to just being his soulmate.

You can't leave him.

If you do act out, lashing out at him. Intent on leaving him (you can't), all he has to do is pull firmly. Yank the red cord with all his might. He's not above it. He is stronger after all. It's a little mean. A little childish. You may stumble and trip over and fall. But Phainon will be more than happy to rush over and soothe any scraped knees. He'll kiss the bruises away, make it hurt less and wipe any tears that drip down your face. Provide the comfort you deserve as he hushes the sound of your cries.

He caught you trying to cut the string the other day.

Walking in to see your desperation spill over, the kitchen knife shaking terribly in your one hand. Your bounded wrist on the chopping block. You swallowed hard. Raising the thing above your head.

He disarmed you before you could go through with it.

But even if you could. Sever the fate connecting the two of you together. Phainon will only pick up the pieces and tie them back together.

Even without it, he knows he is forever bound to you.

So just accept him as your soulmate already.

[lillilybells]

Family dinner✧₊⁺

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

pairing|damian wayne x reader summary|Damian tries to keep his girlfriend a secret from his family, keyword, tries.

word count|1499

warnings|hickeys, teen romance.

notes|hey so, fic about my baby Damian!! Tell me if anyone wants a part two, it felt a little too long. Part 2

It started with the missing hours during patrol.

At first, no one thought anything of it. Sometimes when the night was slow, Damian would vanish for forty minutes or so. Not totally weird — except that it kept happening. Night after night.

Barbara was the first to catch on. During a group patrol, when Damian ghosted again, she pointed it out over comms. “He’s been going dark. Same time every night. About forty minutes. Sometimes more.”

That got their attention.

None of them brought it up to Bruce. He was already carrying too much and tensions between him and Damian were frayed enough. Plus, they trusted the kid — he wasn’t twelve anymore, and he wasn’t stupid.

But then came the other stuff.

Damian started fighting with less... bloodlust. Training matches didn’t end with bruises or near-death experiences. He was lighter. Looser. Happy, even. Jon Kent noticed it during game nights — Damian wasn’t trying to obliterate him in Mario Kart. He was laughing.

Then Tim caught floral and various other feminine scents trailing off him. Strong. Familiar. Victoria’s Secret Bombshell — Stephanie’s go-to from what he remembered. It clung to his hoodie.

Naturally, Tim assumed this was an awakening of sorts.

“Hey,” he began awkwardly, knocking on Damian’s door. “So, uh... I just wanted to say, if you’re experimenting or figuring yourself out, that’s totally cool. Y’know. Gender-wise. Or cologne-wise. Just— you can talk-”

SLAM.

Door. In. Face.

Alfred, for his part, noticed lipstick and foundation stains on multiple shirts during laundry. Said nothing. But he noticed.

Then came the phone calls. The texting. Damian, the guy who used to reply to “what are you doing” texts three days late, was suddenly glued to his phone 24/7. Full-volume message alerts. Hour long calls. Sometime Cass could hear him all the way from her room. He even walked into Bruce twice because he was too distracted reading something on screen.

Duke once interrupted him mid-call to say dinner was ready and got a pillow to the face for his trouble.

This was weird.

Sure he deserved his privacy, and usually the wouldn’t care but this was also Damian, the baby of the family. If he had a girlfriend — they had to know.

The final straw? Dick and Damian on patrol.

The boy arrived late. Looked dazed. And when they stepped under a streetlight, Dick saw it — a constellation of pink, glossy kiss marks trailing from his jaw to his collarbone. And a faint bruise just below his ear.

Dick blinked. Got punched in the face by a random mugger. Finished the fight. Then turned to him.

“Hey… Dami?” he tried. “What’s, uh, what’s that on your… neck? And cheek. And… is that lip gloss?”

Damian froze. Reached for his cheek. Blushed.

Then threw a smoke bomb and vanished.

“Hey guys…” Dick entered the living room that weekend, looking slightly dazed. They had gathered for monthly family dinner — even Jason had shown up, weirdly chipper.

“Do you think Damian—”

“—has a girl? Totally,” Tim cut in, sounding more confident then ever.

Jason’s head snapped toward them. “WHAT.”

“You didn’t notice?” Duke asked, amused.

“Dude, no. What?!”

“He’s been... giddy,” Duke said, wincing. “For him.”

“And he smells like expensive girl’s perfume,” Tim added.

“Yeah, you’d know a lot about that,” Jason muttered.

“Guys. I saw a hickey,” Dick said grimly. “It messed me up.”

Jason looked physically pained. “There’s no way. That little gremlin has a girlfriend?”

“We have to ask him,” Tim said, already too excited. “Like, now.”

“No.” “No.” “Definitely not.” The chorus rang out. Except for Cass and Jason.

Jason stood. “Democracy time. Cass?”

She tilted her head. “You can try. It won’t go well.”

“That’s enough for me.” Jason marched up the stairs. Dick tried to stop him. Failed.

He burst into Damian’s room. Immediate silence.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

“My family is getting closer to finding out about us…” You were both in bed — Damian leaning back against the headboard with a deep frown on his face, while you lay beside him, propped up on your elbow.

“Is that so bad?” you asked softly, your tone teasing. He raised a brow.

“They’re insufferable. They’d never let me live it down,” he huffed, and honestly, it was kind of adorable. “I don’t want them acting weird around you—why are you smiling?”

“You just look cute when you sulk,” you giggled.

He rolled his big green eyes, but the faint smile tugging at his lips and the pink rising to his cheeks betrayed him.

“I’m being serious, beloved,” he muttered. “I don’t want my family to know about… this. Us. Not yet.”

You sighed and sat up a little straighter, his gaze following your every move.

“Are you ashamed of being seen with me?” The question came out quieter than you intended. You knew the answer, deep down. But the insecurity had been itching at you ever since he started getting cagey about his family.

His eyes widened slightly. “No—no, it has nothing to do with you.” He furrowed his brows and slumped back with a quiet groan, reaching lazily for your phone on the nightstand and holding it up like proof. “I let you post us on your… whatever” he said, and let it drop with a soft bounce.

“It’s not about you. It’s about them,” he added more gently, the rare softness in his voice making your heart squeeze. “I can’t let them scare you off.”

You sighed again and reached up to cradle his cheek.

“Baby… I learned that you were raised by assassins. I know all about your ‘extracurriculars’ at night. And I’ve met your dragon-bat. If that didn’t scare me off, what makes you think your family will?”

You grinned, and so did he — just a little.

“I suppose you make a fair point…”

You locked eyes for a long moment before naturally leaning in, sharing a soft, chaste kiss. It was gentle and familiar and grounding — like home.

When you pulled away, you gave him a cheeky smile. “I’m gonna go get ready for our date.”

The plan was simple: his family wasn’t supposed to be home today. Their schedules were usually packed, so he’d invited you over with every intention of sneaking in a cozy evening together, followed by a fancy dinner downtown.

Unfortunately, he’d gotten the days mixed up.

Which meant: his entire family was downstairs.

Which meant: you were doomed.

He was buttoning up his shirt as you darted around in your nightgown, applying makeup in the mirror you’d begged him to keep on his desk.

And that’s when it happened.

That’s when Jason burst in

At first everything was frozen, you and Damian were staring at him with widened eyes and he was staring right back, mostly at you, he was shocked.

Then the rest of the Batfam piled in behind him.

You fled to the bathroom in a blur of mortification. Damian looked like he wanted to kill all of them.

“Uh... congrats?” Tim offered.

“She looked pretty,” Dick said.

“She looked terrified,” Jason corrected.

“Of you,” Cass deadpanned.

“Okay, but in our defense—” Duke began.

SLAM.

Door in their faces this time.

They stared at each other.

“So… what now?” Tim asked.

“Don’t look at me. I told you idiots not to do this,” Dick replied.

“He seemed pissed” Jason stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, we broke into his room and scared the shit out of his girlfriend” Duke’s voice was dripping with sarcasm and Jason groaned.

“Whose girlfriend?” said a voice that shouldn’t have been able to sneak up on them.

Everyone jumped.

“I’m out,” Cass whispered — and ghosted away.

They spent thirty minutes confessing every detail to Bruce like a bunch of nervous criminals. The stoic man just absorbed the information. Slowly. Silently.

Then he walked over and knocked on Damian’s door.

Three short knocks.

₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Inside, Damian had knocked on the bathroom door.

“Sorry—” “Sorry—”

You said it in unison. Then froze.

“I’m sorry they walked in on us like that,” you said.

“It’s not your fault beloved, I didn’t know those insuffereble idiots would be here today” he huffed out, and you gave him a look of sympathy, giving him some space to process the development.

“You.. you seemed scared, when Jason and the rest..” he had trouble speaking his mind, he’d grown, sure, but he still had trouble.

“I was just caught off guard..” you spoke quietly, “I promise, I’m not scared Damian, I’m not scared of you, or your family..”

And he smiled a little, just a little, leaning toward you as your hands reached up to button up the top few buttons of his shirt, “not even a little?” And you gave your own cheeky smile at that.

“Well, maybe a little..”

Knock, knock, knock.

Your heads whipped toward the door.

Damian sighed. “Get dressed.”

He turned back to the door, straightened his collar, and braced himself to face the family.

Again.

[sincerecinnamon]

If anyone doubts this,

There was someone I knew as an acquaintance when I was a small child, but ended up in 8th grade as someone who I felt comfortable with and wanted to talk with more and who I saw as really kind, but who I took pretty forgranted

One day, I was being myself and rambling happily about a story and characters I created, just sharing it with him as we were apart from others at the moment, and when I was done, I recall that he told me that I reminded him of the sun and sunlight, and ever since, that's everything I've strived to be. I want to be so bright and warm without even thinking that it shines onto others and makes them feel happy

Now, he moved away after 8th grade, and while I have his number, I'm a bit nervous to actually message him. However, I've randomly been thinking about that moment and about him a bit more. Thinking back, a few times, people suggested we were dating or said something weird about us since they saw us as a boy and girl (I'm trans), and I reacted a bit strongly out of my discomfort of being shipped. In hindsight, I really hope that he didn't have a thing for me because I really don't want to think about the idea of having made him feel rejected when, immediately upon being awarded the sunshine award in theatre this past school year, I thought of what he said to me

Tl;dr: even the smallest thing you say can stick far beyond you thought they would, and it's very likely that someone remembers something you said--maybe an observation, maybe an offhanded compliment--and it changed their view of themselves for the better

[sereia4skz]

Hii I was wondering if you could do a OT8 (it could be poly or individual your choice if you choose to write this😊) about how the reader still sleeps with a baby blanket, because I've never seen any write about it and I thought it would be cute, but anyway love your writing and keep up the good work! And have a nice day/night!😊

headcanons | baby blanket headcanons

pairing: ot8!straykids x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

word count: ~600

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

BANGCHAN 

★ Softest man alive. He notices it peeking out from under the covers and just smiles.

★ “Is that your baby blanket?” he asks, gently. When you shyly nod, he presses a kiss to your forehead and says, “That’s really cute.”

★ Lowkey protective of it, he’ll make sure it’s folded nicely or that you have it when you’re sad, never letting the boys touch it.

★ If you fall asleep without it, he’ll put it in your arms. Doesn’t say anything, just tucks you in with it.

★ Might even get a plush or mini version made as a keepsake.

LEEKNOW

★ Teases you. Relentlessly. “You want your blankie, baby?” with the smuggest grin ever.

★ But he secretly finds it precious. Like, he’ll never admit it outright but he’s obsessed.

★ If you’re having a bad day and he hands it to you without a word? That’s his love language.

★ If the blanket’s ever in danger (a cat tries to claim it), he’s on it instantly.

★ “That’s theirs. Get your own, Soonie.”

CHANGBIN

★ SCREAMS internally.

★ “WAIT you still sleep with a baby blanket?! That’s… oh my god that’s the cutest thing ever.”

★ Gets really sentimental about it. Wants to know the story, how long you’ve had it, what it smells like.

★ Might beg you to let him hold it one night.

★ 10/10 makes you feel normal and cherished about it. Never lets you feel embarrassed.

HYUNJIN

★ Is already emotional. Tears up when he finds out.

★ “That’s so pure. You're literally the softest person I've ever met.”

★ Strokes your hair while you cuddle with it. Will paint you holding the blanket.

★ Makes dramatic declarations like, “If anyone touches that blanket, they go through me.”

★ Gets insane cuteness aggression… Like the way he's super lovey dovey for Jeongin.

HAN 

★ Has a whole chaotic moment: “WAIT! you actually…like for real? still?? That’s so- you’re like a cartoon character! A soft one!!”

★ Ends up cuddling you and the blanket.

★ Gets super clingy about it. “No, you don’t need the blanket! You have me!” while literally wrapped around you like a koala.

★ Jisung also starts talking to the blanket like it’s alive. “Yo, Blankie, I know you were here first but I’m the boyfriend, okay?”

FELIX

★ Instantly melts. 

★ “That’s adorable, angel. I love that you still have it.”

★ He finds comfort in it too, might sneak it into his arms if you’re not using it, especially because he doesn't have his changbin body pillow anymore.

★ Offers to wash it by hand like it’s sacred. “Gotta keep Blankie happy and soft!”

★ Will absolutely whine until he gets his own cuddle blanket/plush.

SEUNGMIN

★ Tries to act unbothered and snappy. “Seriously? A baby blanket?”

★ But he secretly tucks it around your shoulders when you nap.

★ If you leave it behind somewhere, he goes back for it without telling you.

★ “You’d be insufferable if you lost this. I’m saving myself the headache.”

★ But if he’s having a bad day, you’ll find him snuggled up with Daengmo tucked in it.

I.N

★ Blushes. “That’s… actually really sweet.”

★ Starts joking that he’s jealous of the blanket. “So that’s who gets all the cuddles.”

★ Might try to start a rivalry with it. “If you had to pick between me and Blankie, who would it be?”

★ Ends up falling asleep with you both. The three of you become a bedtime trio.

★ Buys it a tiny stuffed animal companion as a joke but then gets super serious about it. “They’re bonded now. You can’t separate them.”

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss @zayn-210 @wolfhallows4 @katsukis1wife @sammhisphere @bangchanspineapple @sunfk88 @sillyseob @rougegenshin @yaorzu-blog

[thechaotictheoryy]

Control Me.

summary: Comeback breaking new records and reaching the ears of new listeners. To celebrate the staff decide to take the boys for a night out but all Yunho could think as the drinks start to sink in was you.

pairing: fem reader x idol! Jeong Yunho

genre: established relationship, romance, fluff, idol au, smut

word count: 3,267

warnings: alcohol consumption, making out, whiny drunk sub Yunho, dry humping, handjob, unprotected sex (don’t do this), slight BDSM (really just bondage nothing extreme), slight choking, fingering, Yunho is super sensitive (cums in his pants lol), begging kink?, reverse cowgirl, creampie, talks about subspace (Yunho has a subdrop and is very confused about it)

song rec: Pygma Girl by BIBI

a/n: just a little something before I start Under Pressure which I’ll have first chapter posted next weekend. This Yunho has been in my mind since this photos were released! Sorry for the late upload, hope you enjoy!

“Cheers to another great comeback!”

Everyone took their shots and Yunho hesitated but took his too. It was a week after Golden Hour Part 3 had been released and the first week of promotions were over. The boys had hit a few number ones on charts internationally and made number 2 on the Billboard 200. What also was shocking about their charting in Korea, they never had made it on the charts so high. The CEO was so proud of them, he decided to host a gathering at one of the restaurants near the company.

Yunho was very excited and always grateful but watching everyone happy and celebrating, he just wished you were able to be here with him. 

“Why do you look so down?” Wooyoung asked, pouring another shot. 

“I’m okay, I just..” He sighed. 

“If you want to go, you know you can”

“I do but she told me to have fun since it’s been stressful especially with tour coming up again” 

You and Yunho had been dating for almost two years… privately. He met you at the Riot Games Museum in LA, you were an intern there for the summer while he was there performing for KCON. You had let him know you were just there for a few months and would be back in Seoul that fall. Everything started off very slowly, you became good friends which turned into Yunho asking you on a date two months after your return to Korea.

Instead of a nice restaurant, he set up a nice romantic rooftop dinner. You understood that because of him being an idol that privacy was key and there were long talks with KQ before they agreed to let you continue dating in secret. Sometimes it did bother you that you couldn’t be open about your relationship but it’s also very nice to not have everyone in your business. 

Yunho wishes he could show you off because you deserve to be seen. 

Meeting each other's parents had to be the hardest point for you guys. His parents thought you wanted him for money and your parents thought that he was going to ruin you and have many fans attack you. Yunho reassured his parents that you were not like that and you proved that to them. 

Your parents’ relationship with Yunho is still on the rocks even after almost three years.

They don’t trust him. They care about your safety and they feel like in the end if it comes down to it, he chooses to save his career over saving you from drowning in the sea of online bullying and possible threats in real life. 

“Well drink up and get a little drunk, we don’t get too many nights like this” 

“You’re right,” Yunho nodded. 

One turned into two and two turned six. Yunho wasn’t a lightweight at all but he knew his limit. The soju beer mixture was making him very warm but he knew he fucked up when San pulled out a whiskey bottle. 

“I thought you kept that for display,” Hongjoong said, raising an eyebrow at San. 

“It’s a special night for us and it calls for some old fashion whiskey,” San smiled. 

Yunho didn’t know if he should mix but after some convincing from the BBT dancers, he took about 3 shots of the dark liquor and chugged another glass of beer. 

As he traced the top of the beer bottle while listening to Jongho talk about a crazy run in with a fan, all he could think about was you. 

Your scent. Your lips. Your beautiful eyes. Your laugh. 

He really missed you even though he had just seen you the night before. He wanted to do a lot with you that his drunk brain couldn’t put together at the moment. The boys started to notice his zoning out and looked at each other. 

“Yunhooo,” Wooyoung wrapped an arm around him. 

“Mm,” he muttered, then hiccupied. 

“Are you ready to go see Y/N?”

Yunho made eye contact so fast with the boys so fast and nodded so fast that they thought his head might fall off. All of them laughed and Hongjoong went to tell a manager to take Yunho to your apartment. It took about three of them to help Yunho in the car since he was about three seconds into falling on his face.

They did not need him to break his nose again. 

The ride to your place felt so long and dizzy for Yunho. He couldn’t wait to be near you and touch you. He hoped when you got to your door, you would open it and he would see you wearing his clothes. God did he love it when you wore one of his hoodies or shirts with nothing underneath. 

He sighed and closed his eyes, leaning back into the passenger seat just hoping he didn’t puke before seeing you. 

Three knocks on the door and you hopped up from the couch, confused. You weren’t expecting this one this late but once you heard a “whoops” and hiccup, you knew it was Yunho coming from their get together but he didn’t text you saying he was on the way. You quickly went to throw on some shorts since you only had on Yunho’s spiderman shirt and boy shorts then went to unlock the door and saw Yunho slumped on his two managers who were holding up on each side. 

“Hey baby” Yunho slurred, smiling drunkenly at you. 

“Yunho” you crossed your arms. 

“You told me to have fun,” he whined. 

“Hey Y/N, he’s kind of heavy so where can we take him?” one of them said. 

“The couch is fine,” you said sweetly to them. 

They took a very whiny and giggly Yunho to the couch and carefully put him down. He waved at him as they left out and they shook their heads, waving back. 

“Thank you again guys,” you said, opening the door. 

“Make sure he reports to practice at noon tomorrow please” 

“Will do,” you gave them a thumbs up. 

You closed and locked the door, sighing. You turned to Yunho and he was laying down with his arm over his eyes. You walked over and squatted down by his head, running your fingers through his hair. 

“How much did you drink?”

“I lost count after the whiskey shots” 

“Jeong Yunho” 

“It’s San’s fault!” He removed his arm and looked at you. 

“You could have said no” , you flicked his forehead. 

“Ouch” he pouted. 

You both fell silent for a minute, just the sound of your air conditioning blowing and the water running into your fish’s tank. Yunho kept staring at you and you raised an eyebrow at him. He smiled warmly and his eyes showed some much admiration but they were also hazy from him not being sober. 

“What?” you asked. 

“Come here” 

He pulled you on top of him and you straddled him comfortably, laying your head on his chest. He started to rub your back and his hands felt so nice and warm. You thought all was nice and innocent till you felt his hands move down to your ass and give it a squeeze. 

“Yunho” 

“Please,” he muttered. 

His tone made you look up at him. He was pouty and ears were starting to turn red, you were also feeling his dick hardening on his thigh. Yunho only got this when he was either drunk or having a rough week and needed you to take care of him. He was always the dominant one when it came to your dynamic but you lived for moments where he let you be in control. 

You sat up and dragged a hand down his chest slowly, he whimpered as you traced around his right nipple. His hands moved back up to your hips and his grip tightened just a bit. 

“Babe I-”

You slide your hand back up and gently wrap your fingers around his neck and he gasps lightly. You leaned down and kissed him with him immediately kissing you back. He tasted mostly of whiskey and soju, you don’t know why but it kind of turned you on even though you weren’t too big on alcohol. To test out how sensitive he was, you grinded down on him. He moaned lightly in mouth and you took the opportunity to swirl your tongue around his and apply a little pressure on his neck from your grip. 

You felt him jerk while his hands tightened on your hips again then he stilled for a little bit, that only happens when he…

“Yunho, did you just cum?” you asked, pulling away slightly from his kiss. 

He stared at you as his face became more red. Yunho hasn’t come that soon in a long time, meaning around the first time you had sex with each other. You were a virgin at the time and he just couldn’t control himself, which was a given. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you smiled and shook his head. 

“I-I’m not” 

“You totally are, come on” 

You got off of him and pulled him up, dragging him to your bedroom. You sat him down and tapped his legs so he could spread them then dropped down to your knees. You kept eye contact with him as you started to undo his pants.

“You know the last two outfits of this comeback have been driving me insane?”

“Y-Yeah? You didn’t say anything about it” 

“I had to control myself or I would have came down to the music show building and have you bend me over in the green room”

He moaned at that and from your small hand wrapping around his dick. His size always surprised  you because how could someone carry this around in their pants everyday. He was thick and a nice length, the veins being so prominent makes your mouth water.

“It also made me jealous”

“How?”

“All those girls getting to look at you all day while I’m here at home, only being to see on TV” you started to stroke him slowly, his cum from just a few moments ago making  your hand glide with ease. “How would you feel if I looked that good and you couldn’t get your hands on me right then and there, mm?”

“F-Fuck” he muttered as your hand moved faster. 

“Don’t cum”

“I-I”

“Yunho, I will stop and leave you here,” you said firmly. 

He whined and did his best to hold it in. He was still the effects from when he came five minutes ago, the overstimulation was killing him. He was trying to think of every possible thing to slow down the hot sensation coiling in his stomach again. 

He was a goner as you spit on his dick and moved even faster. 

“Shit!,” His body locked up a little as he came hard and some ended up on his shirt that you were wearing. You stopped and when he looked down at you after opening his eyes, you had a look of fire in your eyes. 

“Y/N.. I-”

“Clothes off and lay up against the headboard, don’t make me say it twice,” the dominance dripped off your voice. You got up and walked into the bathroom. Yunho moved quickly with excitement but also slight fear. You weren’t too rough with him when he did something you didn’t approve of. He was still kind of drunk but the two times of him cumming, he felt a little floaty but somewhat felt like he was sobering up little by little. 

You walked back out, naked with two sets of handcuffs in your hand. Yunho sucked in some air, looking at you and he never gets tired of seeing you like this. He felt his dick start to get hard again, you laughed a little at it. You walked over and motioned him to put his hands out, he obeyed and you cuffed each of his wrists to the bed posts on the sides of your bed. 

“Since you can’t listen, no touching tonight. If you don’t cum again until after I do.. I think about uncuffing you”

He nodded and blinked slowly. Yunho couldn’t describe the feeling running through his head but this isn’t the first time this has happened to him while you guys have had sex. You didn’t want to tell him that he fell into subspace before and that it’s happening again because you didn’t exactly know how it would take that.

Hell, you didn’t know Yunho was okay with being submissive sometimes until the first time it happened. You know Yunho isn’t an overly masculine man but at the end of the day, he is a man and some aren’t comfortable talking about things in that nature. You wanted him to come to you if he ever had questions about it but for now, Yunho just felt like it was a nice place in his head that he drifted off to when you made him feel good. 

You climbed on top of him, straddling but then you leaned back slightly so he had a good view of your soaked pussy. He groaned at the slight, trying to reach forward but the handcuffs held him place. 

“Don’t move baby,” you said as you moved your fingers down and started to rub your clit. You slowly pressed two fingers inside, keeping eye contact with him. All Yunho could do was sit there and watch. His whines made you wetter and his begs to touch you made you feel so good because you had some much power over him right now. You turned around so your back was facing him and you grabbed his dick, lining it up with your entrance.  

“Remember, don’t cum till I say so,” You looked at him over your shoulder and smirked slightly. Yunho nodded slowly and watched you. The overwhelming pleasure running through his body was so overwhelming he couldn’t form words to speak. 

You slowly slid down, hissing at the stretch. You knew it would be a little painful even though you tried to stretch yourself out before then. Your fingers weren’t as long or thick as Yunho’s. He moaned as you bottomed out on top of him. Even though his brain was kind of melted, he tried not to cum again and closed his eyes. You started with slow rolls, taking your time to adjust to his size like you always have to. Once you relaxed, your slow rolls turned into bouncing at a subtle pace with hands planted on his stomach. 

“Baby please,” Yunho whined, opening his eyes a little. “F-Faster”

“You think you deserve it?” you smirked. 

“P-Please, I’ll be good” He groaned. “I-I’ll be perfect for you” 

Fuck, you never thought seeing someone like Yunho beg like this would become a kink. You knew it had become one because even when he’s innocently begging for you to come eat with him after a practice or to stay five minutes on a game level he’s trying to finish, it makes your core flutter. 

You decided to turn around and face him, sliding off a little then sliding back down on him. You wrapped a hand around his throat as you began to bounce on his dick once more, he moaned as he tried to kiss you. You love riding him because it feels like he reaches places so much deeper. 

You kissed and licked around his ear, whispering sweet nothings as you bounced harder. You could feel him shaking slightly under your fingers and you could tell he was close again, little did he know that band in your stomach was about to snap any second. You kissed him deeply and he kissed back, trying to keep up. 

“I’m close,” he whined in your mouth. 

“It’s okay, me too,” you moaned. 

After two more digs at your g-spot, you came so hard on top of him. Your body shook as you tried to ride it out, gasping into his mouth. Yunho came a few seconds after you for the third time tonight but instead of the usual panting and groans he usually does. 

He was whimpering. 

You looked down at him as you pulled away. His eyes were a bit more dilated than usual and he was a bit non-verbal. He was dropping.

“Yunho baby”

He just kept whimpering then closed his eyes. You slide off his dick carefully, rushing to take the cuffs off his wrists. You laid beside him and pulled him into your chest, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist tightly. You played in his hair then rubbed his back slowly all over. He let out a sigh and you saw his eyes flutter open. You looked down at him and sighed in relief.

“What was that?” His tone raspy. 

“Probably the mix of your drinking then the intensity from cumming three times probably made your body go into shock” 

“No,” he cuddled into your chest deeper. “That was different, I didn’t know where I was. It was like I was floating on a cloud then I fell and kept falling” 

“I’ll tell you in the morning, okay? Just rest for a little then we’ll shower” 

Yunho didn’t press it but he nodded. He was really curious about what that feeling was. 

You were in the kitchen, making breakfast while Yunho was getting ready to head to practice. He always left some clothes at your place in case he couldn’t run back to the dorms. You started to plate when you heard his footsteps and you felt his arms wrap around your waist, placing a kiss on your temple. 

“Smells good”

“I know you need the protein beforehand so just a simple omelet and bacon this morning”

“Always attentive,” he pecked your lips then walked to your refrigerator, grabbing the orange juice. You took your plates over to the table while he brought over the two glasses of orange juice he made for both of you. 

You two ate  in a comfortable silence for a few minutes till you saw his eyebrows furrowed together a little and you knew what he was about to talk about. 

“It’s called subspace,” you said, hesitantly. 

“Subspace?”

“It’s a place you go to when you feel overwhelming pleasure, kind of like a floaty feeling” 

“So when I said I felt like I was on a cloud? I was in subspace”

You nodded. He looked down at his food and you could tell he was processing. 

“Why did I feel like I was falling? What even triggers a subspace?” he asked, concerned. 

“Before I answer that, Yunho please know it doesn’t make you any less of a man”

“I know that, it just scared me for a bit because I didn’t really have control of my body like the feeling of it” 

“Understood,” you nodded. “You had experienced a subdrop, I think it was because of you cumming three times last night when you haven’t before. Also being drunk and tied up added on to it.” 

“Got it,” he nodded. 

“Would you rather not be submissive anymore? I don’t mind really”

“It’s not that,” he blushed. “I enjoyed last night really,” he looked away. 

“You’re so cute,” you laughed. 

“I’m heading to practice now,” he rolled his eyes, playfully and getting up. He leaned down and pecked your lips a few times. You smiled as he kissed your cheeks then your forehead. 

“Come over after my schedules today, I’ll probably be a bit busy after today because of tour starting soon”

“Sure thing” 

“I love you” 

“I love you too”

[bethanydelleman]

For those in the tags saying, "But swords are cool and fun!" I know this. I'm also NOT advocating for less Sword Girls, I love Sword Girls, just for the Sword Girl not to be paired with hatred/belittling of traditionally female tasks. Here are some ideas that would both honour women's work and feature Sword Girl:

Girl raised traditionally is forced to take up Swords because of a recruitment push. She discovers she's really good at swords, but also becomes popular in her regiment because she's the only one who was properly taught how to cook (stop making "can't cook" the "quirky" trait every single time...) Maybe she trades doing uniform repairs for more Sword lessons

Girl is in Swords and at first uses her female-coded skills, which are helpful. However, she faces harassment and exclusion as one of the few women, so she finds herself hiding those aspects of herself and becoming more and more masculine-presenting in a hope that the harassment will stop. Everyone loses; she's unhappy and now those important skills aren't being used and the harassment never stops because to those a-holes she'll always be other no matter how hard she tries (happy ending is her finding a regiment where her fellow soldiers aren't dicks)

Girl does Swords, but her main hobby outside of Swords is knitting because her beloved grandmother taught her to do that and it's special to her.

Male/female twins are supposed to go into Swords and traditional women's work respectively, they secretly switch places because it turns out he faints at the sight of blood and would have impugned the family honour or something. They both do much better in the opposing roles and both contribute to the final victory

Woman rejects everything even remotely female coded because it felt forced upon her and she thinks her sister is dumb for still doing it. Later, one of her almost forgotten female coded skills proves key to success. She realizes that those skills have a use and place and that doing them doesn't make her sister stupid as long as she is happy

Or very simply: Man is teaching Swords. Man starts to teach a traditionally female skill. Students go, "Ew, that's for girls, we don't need that." Man says, "What exactly are you planning to do if women aren't around and you need that done?" That's literally all I'm asking. I just want recognition that those types of work were important too, is this so hard???

I don't know exactly how to articulate this but... if you repeatedly show historical fiction women rejecting traditionally female skills/duties and doing swords instead, because swords is obviously the Most Important Thing, you are kind of implying that all the work that has been traditionally done by female hands for millennia was useless all along and not, you know, keeping civilization going. Because it's usually rejected not as a personal preference but as This Is The Important Stuff (male work) and That is The Dumb Useless Stuff (women's work) and that kind of bothers me. The message was supposed to be Vital But Underpaid and Underappreciated, not women's work is insignificant so let's all go do swords.

[kukinkrim]

I would find it hilarious to see Jinu's sister but with the huntr/x girls instead. And if possible?

oh no, my sister :(

huntr/x x jinu's sister!reader (separate)

themes: fluff, crack

note: you could find the saja boys version here. kind of short, sorry!

one thing jinu isn't proud of is that he could never, ever, say no to you.

you.

his not-by-blood little sister. the tiny, trembling slip of a soul he found in the unlikeliest of places: hell.

he still remembered it clearly.

among the wailing demons in the wreckage of hell, he had seen you. a child. not a soul tainted by greed or cruelty, but just a little girl, small and far too alive, curled up somewhere in the corner. jinu thought you didn’t belong there.

he crouched in front of you and said, “hey. you wanna come with me?”

you nodded, eyes wide and tear-soaked.

he took your hand. and from that moment on, jinu swore himself to the most sacred vow he had ever made: no harm would ever come to you. not in this life, not in any other.

and from that moment on as well, no matter how impossible, unreasonable, insane, or outright cursed your requests were—he could never say no to you.

even if it was asking for him to accept the fact that you were dating a demon hunter; the very people trained since birth to end beings like him. like you.

rumi.

he should’ve known something was up the moment you brought rumi home for dinner.

jinu knew her more than the other two of her members; you could even say they were close friends at some point, considering he was the first to find out her half-blood kin. she was quiet, composed, well-mannered—exactly the type of girl jinu could tolerate. she helped with dishes, complimented his cooking, and even make small talks here and there. completely normal.

but then he stepped out of the room to take a call and returned to find the two of you in the kitchen doorway, caught in what could only be described as an accidental almost-kiss.

rumi, bless her awkward soul, immediately panicked and backed away so fast she knocked over the trash can. “S-SORRY! I wasn’t—i mean i was! i wasn’t trying to—! oh god!”

you, red-faced and calmly sipping your drink, muttered, “we were literally just leaning in to check the... soup...?"

jinu stared at her. then at you.

rumi scrambled to pick up the trash can, hands shaking. "jinuI respect you very much and would never—unless she wanted to—and even then i’d—!”

“out,” he said, pointing to the door.

“yes, i definetly should! thank you for the dinner, see you tomorrow!” she yelped, bolting, leaving you no time to utter a single word in.

"... apologize to her tomorrow, brother."

"i refuse. go brush your teeth."

mira.

mira was harder to catch. she was quiet and respectful. she was just a chill person, really. jinu never thought he'd have to worry about her stealing his sister.

everyone assumed mira was the stoic one due to her rather laidback persona. the one with her emotions locked down tighter than a sealed jam.

bur for all her cool exterior, mira was, in reality, a hopeless, grade-a, certified simp.

jinu finds that out the hard way. one night, he came home early from a fan meeting and walked into the kitchen—only to find you sitting on the counter, legs dangling, while mira stood between them, feeding you rice with chopsticks.

“you’ve got rice on your lip,” she said gently.

you giggled. “can you get it for me?”

“oh my god,” jinu whispered like he’d just witnessed a ghost. you both turned towards him, munching on the food that mira continued to feed you with despite having been caught. your legs still swung around, still happy.

mira blinked at him. “oh, jinu. want some?”

jinu stared, brows furrowing as he glanced inbetwern you and mira. “no, i do not want your... can you please get off the counter?"

you took another bite. “she made me tofu shaped like tiny bats! isn’t she cute?”

jinu was clutching the doorframe in disbelief when you made no move to listen to his words. “you are literally being courted by someone trained to kill us.”

mira offered a piece of tofu to him anyway. “leace offering?”

“get. out.”

she only shrugs, "i don't want to."

zoey.

jinu first found out about zoey on an otherwise peaceful tuesday.

he had walked into the practice room after lunch—arms full of water bottles, towel draped around his neck—and froze at the sight before him. his arms immediately dropping everything he ess carrying.

you were sitting cross-legged on the floor, eyes crinkled in delight, while zoey was braiding your hair. not just braiding—no, thid girl was sitting in your lap, practically curled around you like a content cat while humming to herself.

the water bottles fell with a thump, rolling away.

you turned around brightly. “oh! brother, you’re back!”

zoey waved with both hands, completely unbothered. “hi jinu~! i like your eyeliner today! very chic!”

he stared. blinked. took a step back like she might explode.

“are you—what are you doing?” he managed.

“playing hair salon,” zoey chirped, then leaned in to whisper loudly to you, “we're planning what her hair should be when we get married!"

jinu choked on air.

you just sighed. “brother, don’t be dramatic.”

[sugxto]

shared frequency - eddie x volt

⋆syn: The morning after the reset, Volt and Eddie have a conversation about your new dynamic.

⋆wc: 2.2k

⋆cw: m/m blowjobs, cum eating/swallowing, another where they’re kinda fantasizing about you while they fuck

⋆notes: takes place the morning after “brutalizer(s)” within power dynamics, but can be read as a standalone “they fucked after the reset” independent one shot. the person eddie and volt are discussing is completely gender neutral. they're referred to as "human," with they/them pronouns, and no descriptions of genitalia or features. e/v masterlist.

⋆snippet:

Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Sometime, in the early morning hours, the human had slipped away from Volt and Eddie’s bed, had given them kisses on their cheeks and said they had to go, they had to make sure something had enough charge, but they’d be back soon, they promised.

It was the norm for Volt and Eddie to wake up beside each other, and never, in their years sharing existence, had either of them woken up feeling lonely - until this morning, when the feeling of only one body in his bed makes Eddie feel… off.

He shoves the thought aside, though, when Volt’s lips find his ear, and the ends of his hair spark by his ear.

“Good morning, my darling.”

Eddie fucking loves Volt’s morning voice - but hey, keep that a secret.

He hums as he rolls over, finds Volt already propped up on his elbow, leaning over him. Eddie knows that look in his eyes, that sparkle, and he cocks an eyebrow. “Someone looks happy.”

Volt smiles, runs his fingers along Eddie’s arm. “Well, we had a good night, didn’t we?”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, after Volt almost fucking died.

But instead, he says, “I remember.”

“I told you they wanted us.”

He sighs. Maybe if he closes his eyes again, sleep will come, very very fast. “You did.”

“And wasn’t it exactly what we’d hoped for?” 

The downside of your partner being electricity incarnate, Eddie thinks, is that he’s always switched to on. Which wasn’t always Eddie’s favorite mode in the mornings, especially not after last night.

“It was,” he grumbles.

“We said we loved them.”

“I -” he pauses, because yeah, he can’t deny that. But they had said it first, and it seemed… right, in the moment. “Yeah, fine, we did.”

Volt’s twinkling eyes rake over his face. “Did we mean it?” As he says it, his hand comes to find Eddie’s resting on his chest, and with the touch comes a wave, a surge of indescribable warmth that flows between them, connects them not just through skin, but through their very hearts.  

They’re both quiet for a moment, only breathing together, but they know. They know that when they touch, their emotions become theirs, no longer separate, like they see things through each other’s eyes. 

And this warmth…

They both know what it means. It’s the same certainty they feel when they’re here, in their bed, sharing kisses and touches and breath and thoughts.

And it must be love.

Eddie feels it in Volt’s touch, in the current he shared, but he also knows that he feels it inside himself, that he reciprocates this certainly that Volt is sharing with him. 

They know they don’t have to say anything, their eyes never leaving each other, understanding without words, without complications. But still, Eddie says, with the smallest smile on his lips and voice barely above a whisper, “I guess we did, didn’t we?”

He cups Volt’s face when he leans down to kiss him, and Volt’s hand on his chest climbs up, up, to tangle itself in Eddie’s hair. Eddie welcomes his little breaths, deepening the kiss and pressing his tongue inside his mouth, and it’s like he recharges at the sounds of the moan Volt makes. 

When they part, it’s only enough for Volt to speak, his lips still ghosting over Eddie’s as he does. “Are you alright with that?”

Eddie’s grey eyes search white ones, and he sighs softly. “I… yes. I am. But I just…” he swallows, feels his heart thrum with excitement, contentment, want, “I can’t quite believe it.”

Volt strokes the top of Eddie’s head with his thumb, tugs slightly on his hair, and he pecks another kiss to his lips. “I can’t either, my darling.”

“I didn’t plan it.”

“I know we didn’t.”

He holds Volt’s face a little tighter, and knows his voice gets a little faster. “And this isn’t - fuck, Volt, it’s always been you -”

“And it’s always been you, Eddie -”

“You know it’s - that it’s not because -”

“I do, Eddie,” Volt says, warmly, lovingly, as his hand slips down to Eddie’s cheek. “My darling, you have nothing to worry about. We have nothing to worry about. I know I’m… protective of you.” He says it with a smirk that, in another conversation, may make Eddie roll his eyes. “But I owe you everything, and I am yours, just like you’re mine. And the human doesn’t want you, or me - they want us. Only us, and isn’t that what we’ve always wanted? To not have to be apart?”

He’s right, Eddie thinks, he usually is, the bastard. And it sparks something in Eddie’s heart that feels like he’s at full power, able to conquer anything, and it feels complete. Because he couldn’t, wouldn’t, be away from Volt. He’d let himself deplete and die before he was alone again, and the human… 

They’d seen that. Not only that, but they’d helped ensure that wouldn’t happen. Showed that they would do everything they could to save both of them. 

So how could Volt and Eddie do anything but love them? 

But still, Eddie has to be sure. “I’d never do anything that could ever mean losing you.”

“You’ll never lose me, Eddie.” Volt’s touch is warm again, and it floods through Eddie’s circuits like a whiskey sour. “I’ve only ever known how to love you.”

Grey eyes flick to soft lips, back up to white eyes, and Eddie can only nod, only hold Volt’s buzzing skin tighter in his hands, because he’s never been good at saying it, but everyday, he knows Volt feels it. And in response, Volt kisses him again, sweet, lush kisses that are better than words, and their arms are around each other, chests pressed together. 

Volt’s lips move to Eddie’s jaw, his neck, his shoulder, as Eddie’s hands find his hair, controlling the bolts with practiced touch. Between kisses on Eddie’s skin, Volt says, his smirk audible, “And it makes it easy that they’re a fantastic fuck.”

Eddie groans, and his cock makes a twitch at the memory, how hot, how wet, how needy they’d been. How they felt like they’d been made to fit around their cocks. All the gorgeous, filthy sounds they’d made, because Volt was right, and he needed to hear them again. 

“Next time,” Volt teases, his tongue on his neck, and Eddie gasps when he grinds their hips together, “you have to taste them for yourself. Tell me,” another roll of his hips, another twitch of their cocks, “how was their mouth?”

Eddie tightens his hands on Volt’s hair, relishes the resulting moan, and his voice is raw when he says, “It was fucking perfect.”

He feels Volt’s chuckle in his neck, feels his cock grow against his own. “Mm. Is that so? Am I going to have some competition?”

Eddie turns his head to press his lips close to Volt’s ear, holds him still, waiting, before he responds. “You wanna give me something to compare it to?”

Faster than light, Volt is between his legs, stomach on the bed and firey, bright white eyes staring up at him, excited, hungry.

Eddie settles himself further up the bed, leans against the pillows, props himself on his elbows for the best view, but he breathes out a curse when, without warning, his cock is swallowed up by Volt’s warm, greedy mouth. He nearly loses his balance when he hits the back of his throat, and Volt makes a hum of satisfaction that vibrates around him. 

God, he feels so fucking good, hot and wet and right - like home, like all he’s ever wanted, all he only ever hoped for in the nights he spent alone. 

He feels Volt’s tongue expertly twist around him, follow the veins of his cock like it’s in his nature, and Eddie’s eyes flutter closed when he leans his head back, letting this warmth consume him.

Volt digs his fingers into the flesh of his thighs, and their currents hum together where they touch. His lips wrap around the head before his tongue trails down the shaft, wetting Eddie more with his spit. His breath is hot, electric, when he purrs, “Imagine if they were here too, sitting on your mouth while I took my time with you.”

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, seeing the image so clearly in his mind, reminiscing on the taste of them that he’d found in Volt’s mouth. “You, fuck, baby, just wanna show off for them.”

“Hmm, maybe I do.” Volt wraps his hand around him, strokes him up, down, and kisses the head. “Show them how good I can make you feel.”

Eddie, through heavy lidded eyes, finds Volt’s hair again, wraps it around his fist, and yanks, Volt’s resulting gasp making him smirk. “You wanna be good?”

Volt nods, limited in his movement, sparks dancing in his wide eyes. 

“Then don’t take your fucking mouth off me again.” He bucks his hips up as he pulls Volt’s lips back to his cock, and they open, effortlessly, and Volt takes. 

He takes Eddie entirely, takes his moans, his tight hold on his hair, all the way to the back of his throat, and swallows, and he glows at the sound Eddie makes - guttural and low, dripping with want. He preens at the “good boy, you feel so fucking good, baby” that fall from Eddie’s lips, and he ruts his hips, his aching cock, into the mattress beneath him. 

Through the haze of his pleasure, Eddie notices (he always notices, Volt thinks), and he hums. “Fucks sake, you can’t get enough, can you?” His voice is wry, and it goes straight to Volt’s cock. “My cock in your mouth and still needing more?”

Volt whines around him, his hips bucking into the bed again, because yes, yes, he needed more, and Eddie knows it, knows how it makes him feel when he pulls at his hair again.

“What - fuuck - what did you say, in the office? You want me inside you w- god - while they ride you?” Eddie’s voice is mean, with just enough bite that he knows shorts the circuits in Volt’s brain. “You, you think that’d finally fucking satisfy you?”

Volt’s eyes are pleading as he grinds into the sheets, his mouth working Eddie’s cock so fast, so well, that the resulting sounds are slick, sinful, coupled by the groan of the mattress beneath Volt’s hips. His fingers singe Eddie’s skin from the death grip he’s keeping on his thighs, trying to take as much as he’s physically allowed. 

Eddie’s chuckle is gruff as he adds a second hand to Volt’s hair, holding him still, and he thrusts his hips up into Volt’s hot throat, making his white eyes practically flicker. “I’m not sure it would. You’re so,” he thrusts again, “fucking,” again, “greedy.”

Yes, Volt thinks, able only to moan, to drool as Eddie fucks his mouth, give me everything, everything, Eddie.

“So you’re gonna take, fuck yes, what I give you, yeah? Gonna be good?” Eddie’s voice is hurried now, his breath labored, and Volt just knows he’s close. He hisses through his teeth, says, “Gonna fuck yourself while you take it?”

Volt hums around him, tries to tell him he can, he will, because yes, he’s so greedy, he needs it, wants it, and lets his jaw go as slack as he can while he ruts, hopelessly, into the friction of the sheets. It’s nothing compared to Eddie, any part of him - his mouth, his hands, his hole - but it’s something, and more than anything, he wants to be good for him. 

Eddie’s hips are losing stability, his thrusts erratic into Volt’s mouth, and he groans, tightens his hands around white hair - he’s so close, fuck he feels so good, and he opens his eyes, finds Volt’s gaze, and -

His climax hits him like lightning, a familiar white flash behind his eyes, and he curses through his teeth as his cum fills Volt’s mouth with small twitches from his cock. Volt’s hips are pounding into the bed, chasing exactly what Eddie told him to, and it’s the soft “that’s it, you did so good,” that Eddie whispers as he swallows, that pushes Volt over the edge as well. His hips shake, his cock sensitive, as he feels the slick of his cum pool on the sheets and stick to his stomach.

Ever greedy, ever proud, Volt savors the ache in his jaw when they finally separate, and he makes a show of licking his lips when Eddie finally releases his hair, his heart swelling with love at the resulting eye roll that he knew would come. 

They both sit up, limbs heavy, warm contentment in their veins, when Eddie says, in a tired voice with a curve to his lips, “Maybe having two of us to wear you out will do you good.”

Volt chuckles, and he notices his throat feeling a bit raw as he does it. “Never, darling. I’m always fully charged.”

Eddie huffs, steel eyes hiding a hint of amusement. “Don’t I fucking know it. But, ya know,” he shuffles his weight, comes to sit on his knees in front of Volt, and runs his finger down Volt’s chest until he finds the remnants of his climax stuck to his skin above white coils, meeting Volt’s gaze as he scoops some onto his fingertip, and brings it to his lips, “I think we can be up to the challenge.”

When he takes his finger out of his mouth, Volt’s lips find him, his tongue swiping into Eddie’s, hungry for him, for more, for everything, and they fall back to the ruined sheets, hands and tongues tangled around each other as tight as they can manage.

[lilirae00]

No Matter the Miles - Part 5

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: Smut, sexual content 18+

a/n: We made it to the end! I hope you like the way this turned out. When I started writing this idea, it was ending up 10x longer than I intended so that’s how we ended up with five parts. Oops. I'd say it was a happy mistake because I really like this one.

Masterlist

–

Eventually, the quiet between them settled into something warm and unspoken. The teasing faded, replaced by that heavy, knowing hush that always followed their biggest fights.

They didn’t apologize again. They didn’t have to. 

Instead, Paige pressed one last kiss to Azzi’s hair and mumbled something about food. Azzi huffed like she didn’t care but her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl that made them both snort.

It broke the tension enough that they finally untangled, shifting from the old couch to the floor below, fumbling for Azzi’s phone to figure out what to order.

They settled on one of their old favorites, ordering with the connection crackling so badly they had to repeat themselves three times before the order went through. 

They sat pressed together on the old rug in front of the coffee table, knees brushing, elbows colliding as they giggled and shushed each other like conspirators, breath warm on flushed cheeks while they fumbled with the receipt and card. 

Every accidental touch lingered just a beat too long, like neither really wanted to pull away.

When the food came, they sprawled on the floor, boxes steaming in the soft lamp light that threw golden shadows over bare arms and collarbones. 

Azzi immediately leaned in and stole a forkful of Paige’s curry, deliberately slow, her lips curling around the fork with exaggerated, obscene delight. 

She let out a moan that was far too convincing, eyes fluttering as she pretended to fan her mouth, cheeks flushing pink.

Paige tried to roll her eyes, but it failed spectacularly when her mouth twitched with an involuntary smile. She scooped up rice and fed it to Azzi, holding the fork deliberately steady while Azzi leaned forward. 

Azzi didn’t just take the bite—she dragged her tongue along the fork, her eyes locked on Paige’s the entire time. 

Paige felt heat curl low in her belly, her breath hitching as she yanked the fork back a little too quickly, swallowing hard.

Azzi just smirked, chewing slowly, deliberately. She shifted closer, their thighs flush now, voice a smoky whisper as she leaned in. “Spicy, huh?”

Paige cleared her throat, trying to sound annoyed but failing as her voice cracked slightly. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.”

Azzi’s grin was slow and dangerous. She didn’t move back.

When they’d eaten enough to push the boxes aside, they stayed where they were, knees brushing, the lamplight casting a warm pool around them, making the old wood floors glow. 

Outside, the cicadas droned in the humid dark. Inside, it felt like the world had gotten very small and very quiet. 

Paige’s eyes kept dropping to Azzi’s mouth, and Azzi wasn’t even touching her but Paige felt hot all over, her heart thudding like she’d been running. 

Her fingers twitched against her own thigh.

Azzi didn’t break the silence first. She just watched Paige with that unblinking, open focus that always made Paige feel like she was seen—really, completely seen. 

It shook her to her bones every time.

Paige swallowed hard, voice cracking a little. “It’s been…a week.”

Azzi blinked at her, lips parting like she wanted to respond, but no words came out. 

Instead her breath hitched, her chest rising too fast. There was a wet gleam at the corners of her eyes she didn’t bother to swipe away. 

Paige’s fingers lifted, slow, tentative, brushing her knuckles along Azzi’s jaw like she was afraid to startle her. 

Azzi didn’t pull away. She turned into the touch, exhaling like it hurt to hold anything in anymore.

“I missed you,” Paige whispered, the words breaking on her tongue.

Azzi’s lashes fluttered. Her voice cracked. “You had me.”

Paige shook her head, thumb stroking Azzi’s cheek, catching one warm tear. “Not like this.” Her voice was hoarse, ragged, and the truth of it sat between them like something holy.

Azzi’s fingers came up to catch Paige’s wrist, holding her hand tighter against her face. 

Her own voice was wrecked, pleading and certain all at once. “Then take me.”

Paige’s breath stuttered. Her lungs felt too small. She let her forehead fall until it pressed against Azzi’s, noses brushing, breaths mingling. 

They were both shaking.

“Are you sure?” she rasped.

Azzi didn’t even blink. “Paige. I’m always sure of you.”

That was it. That was everything. Paige’s thumb kept brushing away Azzi’s tears, her own vision blurring. 

She heard Azzi let out a tiny sound that was half a laugh, half a sob.

“Please,” Azzi breathed.

Paige closed her eyes for a second, grounding herself in the heat of Azzi’s skin, the way she was trembling. When she opened them again, there was nothing but Azzi in her world.

“I want you,” Paige said roughly. “But not just…this. I want you you. Even the parts you’re scared to give me. The parts that are mad at me. The parts I hurt.”

Azzi’s mouth trembled. A single tear slid free, and Paige chased it with her thumb. Azzi pressed into her touch like she was starved for it.

“Good,” Azzi whispered. “Because you have me. All of me. Even the parts that want to scream at you. The parts that hate how much I need you.”

Paige let out a broken laugh that turned into a sob halfway. Her forehead pressed harder to Azzi’s. “God, I’m sorry,” she choked.

Azzi shook her head sharply. “No. Don’t apologize for wanting me so bad you’ll give up everything. Don’t be sorry for that. Just—” Her voice broke. She swallowed. “Promise you’ll let me want you back.”

Paige’s answering laugh was wet, hiccuping. “Promise.”

Then she kissed her.

It started cautious. Gentle. Testing. Their mouths fit together slow, deliberate, re-learning the give and take of breath and heat and forgiveness. 

Azzi whimpered the moment Paige deepened the kiss, hands scrabbling at her sides like she couldn’t get close enough. 

She fisted Paige’s shirt, yanking her in until there was absolutely no space left, chests crushed together, their hearts pounding wild against each other.

Her breath came out ragged, breaking against Paige’s mouth as she twisted to chase every last bit of contact. 

Paige kissed her jaw, the corner of her mouth, the damp curve of her cheek where tears had only just dried.

Azzi let out a wrecked, pleading sound, voice cracking with need as her fingers dug into Paige’s back. “God, Paige. Please. I need you. I need you so bad.”

Her words trembled with urgency, raw and unfiltered, like she’d been holding them back for days and they finally broke free.

“Say it again,” Paige groaned, desperate.

Azzi’s eyes locked on hers, glassy but steady. “I need you.”

Paige’s hands slid under Azzi’s shirt, thumbs brushing warm skin that made Azzi shudder and rock against her.

“Off,” Paige mumbled, tugging at the hem.

Azzi lifted her arms obediently. Paige peeled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside. She paused, letting her eyes drink her in, chest heaving.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, voice cracked with awe.

Azzi let out a watery laugh. “You’re biased.”

“Damn right I am.”

Paige pressed kisses down her throat, over the curve of her collarbone. 

Azzi’s head tipped back, a shuddery gasp escaping. Paige took her time, tasting salt and warmth, letting her teeth scrape just enough to make Azzi squirm and whimper.

Azzi’s fingers slid into Paige’s hair, holding her there with a trembling need.

Paige let out a husky, breath-warm laugh against her neck. “Getting impatient?”

Azzi’s voice broke, low and pleading. “Don’t tease me… just….please.”

And neither of them was laughing anymore when Paige’s mouth found her breast. She kissed slowly but with purpose, heat simmering in every press of her lips. 

Azzi’s breath hitched, her back arching to give her more, the old rug scraping her skin as she writhed, needing Paige’s mouth like air.

Paige pressed her forehead to Azzi’s chest for a second, just breathing her in, before kissing lower, teasing her stomach with open-mouthed kisses. 

Azzi’s hips rolled helplessly, the muscles in her thighs jumping.

Paige paused at the waistband, looking up, eyes blown dark. “Okay?”

Azzi nodded so hard her hair fell into her face. “Please.”

Paige hooked her thumbs into the waistband of Azzi’s shorts and underwear, tugging them down slow. 

Azzi lifted her hips without being asked, breath shuddering, eyes locked on Paige like she was afraid she’d vanish. 

When the clothes slid over her thighs and pooled on the floor, Azzi was already flushed pink, the lamplight catching every slick, wet, vulnerable part of her.

Paige swallowed hard, something in her chest squeezing so tight she thought it would crack her ribs. She ran her palms up Azzi’s thighs, thumbs pressing into the firm muscles there, grounding her.

“Jesus, baby,” she rasped, voice wrecked.

Azzi’s breath hitched. She tried to joke, but it came out choked. “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

Paige shook her head minutely, eyes locked on hers. “I’m not.” Her thumbs traced soothing circles. “I just…God. Look at you.”

Azzi’s lip wobbled, tears threatening again. She bit them back, lifting a shaky hand to bury her fingers in Paige’s hair.

“All for you,” she whispered.

Paige’s breath caught on a sob she refused to let out. She kissed the inside of Azzi’s knee, then higher, over trembling skin, leaving a wet path. Azzi’s fingers flexed in her hair, not pulling away but anchoring her there, needing her.

When Paige finally pressed her mouth to her wet center, it wasn’t rushed or greedy. It was slow, open. 

Azzi cried out, her back arching off the rug as her thighs fell open wider.

Paige’s hands held her hips down gently, thumbs stroking in slow, patient circles, her own breath breaking against slick heat.

“Azzi whimpered, voice cracking on a sob. “Paige—fuck—please—”

Paige lifted her eyes, dark with want but soft with love. “Shh. I’ve got you.”

She circled Azzi’s clit with her tongue, slow at first, teasing. Azzi’s hips jerked wildly, a sob tearing from her throat. Paige didn’t relent. She sucked gently, then harder, listening to Azzi’s voice break apart on her name.

When she pressed a finger inside, Azzi choked, sobbing so hard Paige had to hush her, kissing the inside of her thigh as she worked her open. 

Another finger joined the first, pressing in slow, patient, relentless. Paige felt Azzi flutter and clench around her, heard the strangled sob she tried to bite back. 

She didn’t let up. She curled her fingers just right, finding that spot that always made Azzi shiver like she'd been shocked.

Azzi’s back arched clean off the floor, a broken moan tearing from her lips. Her head thrashed side to side, hair sticking to her damp cheeks, breaths hitching in ragged, pleading gasps. 

Paige’s name slipped from her lips like prayer, like accusation, like she couldn’t believe how much she needed her.

Paige’s mouth was merciless. She dragged her tongue in slow, teasing circles around Azzi’s clit, then sucked, firm and steady, pulling desperate cries from Azzi’s chest. She let her teeth graze just enough to make Azzi jolt, hips bucking hard against her mouth.

“Right there?” Paige rasped against her, voice low, guttural, but impossibly gentle. She pressed her thumb into Azzi’s hip to hold her steady, breath hot against slick skin. 

“That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

Azzi choked on a sob, thighs quivering violently around Paige’s shoulders. Her hands scrabbled at Paige’s hair, not pushing her away, but trying to hold on for dear life. 

Paige let her, let her use her, worshipped her in every thrust of her fingers, every lap of her tongue.

Azzi was babbling now—Paige’s name, curses, wordless cries that broke and scattered across the floor. She trembled so hard Paige had to shift to keep her pinned, her own heart pounding in time with Azzi’s stuttering breath

Paige felt her tightening around her fingers, felt the quiver become a shudder, the shudder become a tremor that threatened to break her in half. 

She thrusted her fingers deeper, faster, curling, dragging her tongue over that perfect spot again and again.

Azzi let out a cracked, pleading gasp, her fingers clutching at Paige’s other hand that was splayed across her stomach. “Don’t stop,” she sobbed, voice wrecked, raw with need.

“Never,” Paige whispered against her, voice cracking with how much she wanted it. How much she needed it. “Come for me, Az. Let go. Let me hear you.”

Azzi let out one last, strangled sob—and then she shattered.

It was a violent, unstoppable thing. Her body seized, thighs clamping tight around Paige’s head. She screamed Paige’s name like it was the only word she remembered, her voice breaking, raw and desperate. 

Paige didn’t stop. She held her through it, hands pressing into her hips to keep her grounded, tongue gentle now, coaxing her through every last wave.

Azzi shook apart, gasping like she couldn’t find air, sobbing Paige’s name softer, pleading, begging.

Paige only let up when Azzi’s hands tugged frantically at her hair, voice cracking with exhausted, overwhelmed sobs of “too much—please—Paige—please.”

Then Paige pulled back, breath heaving, mouth slick and wet, heart beating out of her chest. She pressed kisses along the inside of Azzi’s thighs, up her trembling stomach, her ribs, the frantic rise and fall of her chest. She kissed every inch of her like an apology, like a promise.

When she finally reached Azzi’s face, she cupped her cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears, pressing their foreheads together as Azzi trembled and hiccuped with leftover sobs.

Paige’s voice was wrecked. “God, I love you.”

Azzi’s lips twisted into a wobbly, ruined smile, tears still glittering on her lashes. “Always.”

Azzi was shaking, eyes glazed, cheeks wet.

Paige cupped her face. “You okay?”

Azzi laughed, but it was broken, ruined. “Fuck. Yeah. Paige…”

Paige kissed her forehead, pressing it there for a long moment while she watched Azzi’s breathing slowly even out.

Azzi blinked slowly, eyes clearing, and she let her gaze roam over Paige’s flushed, eager face. She swallowed, voice low, hoarse. “Your turn.”

Azzi pushed Paige gently onto her back, hair falling into her face, eyes shining with something fierce and hungry. 

Paige let her, heart in her throat, lungs fighting for breath.

“Azzi…” she started, but Azzi just shushed her with a kiss, deep and claiming. Paige whimpered into her mouth, body arching.

Azzi’s fingers were slow but sure, dancing down her ribs, over her stomach, slipping under the waistband of her shorts. 

Paige lifted her hips without being asked, baring herself completely.

Azzi paused, just looking at her, chest heaving.

Paige flushed crimson, trying to close her thighs, but Azzi’s hands were there, spreading her open.

“Don’t hide from me,” Azzi whispered, voice shaking but certain as she looked up, hair falling in her eyes. “Not now. Not ever.”

Paige whimpered, nodding helplessly, hands flying to Azzi’s shoulders, fingers digging in hard. She felt exposed in every way—body flushed, chest tight, breathing like she’d just played a full 40 minutes on the court. 

Azzi didn’t rush. She kissed her knee softly, then higher, dragging her mouth along Paige’s trembling thigh. She felt Paige shudder under her, heard the strangled noise in her throat. 

Azzi let her lips linger, parting them enough to drag her teeth gently, making Paige jump and curse.

“God, P,” Azzi breathed, voice breaking as she drank in the sight of Paige spread out for her, glistening in the low lamplight. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Paige’s hips rolled involuntarily, seeking friction, her breath catching in tiny, desperate sobs.

Azzi pressed a slow, wet kiss right to her clit. Paige cried out, whole body jolting like she’d been shocked, head falling back against the floor.

“Azzi—fuck—please—”

Azzi smiled against her, lips slick, breath hot. “I know,” she whispered, but she didn’t let up. She flattened her tongue and licked a slow, hard stripe that made Paige buck violently.

Azzi settled her free hand firmly on Paige’s stomach, pressing her down. “Hold still,” she ordered softly, voice shaking with heat. “Let me have you.”

Paige whimpered again, fingers twisting in Azzi’s hair, not pushing her away—never that—but pulling her closer, begging without words.

Azzi’s mouth was relentless. She sucked gently, then harder, letting her tongue circle and tease until Paige was thrashing under her, legs trembling violently. She felt Paige’s thighs clamp around her head, heard the wet, wrecked noises spilling out of her.

Azzi let her fingers drift lower, slick with Paige’s arousal. She pressed one inside slowly, carefully, curling it until Paige let out a broken sob.

“Shh,” Azzi murmured against her, voice so wrecked it barely held together. She pressed another finger in, feeling Paige stretch around her, hot and tight and perfect. “Give it to me. All of it.”

She’d been holding so much in all week—every fear, every ache, the terror of losing this, losing her.

But in this moment, with Azzi kneeling between her thighs, looking at her like she was everything, Paige felt it crack open. 

She wasn’t losing anything. She wasn’t losing her. Because here Azzi was—inside her, against her, with her. And it hit Paige so deep she almost sobbed with it. 

She’s mine. She’ll always be mine.

Paige shook her head frantically, but her hips wouldn’t stop moving, grinding desperately against Azzi’s mouth, taking Azzi’s fingers deeper, chasing the rhythm with mindless, frantic need.

“Azzi—I—I’m—”

“Do it,” Azzi ordered, voice shaking with love and hunger. She crooked her fingers just right, tongue pressing in slow, relentless circles over Paige’s clit. “Come for me, Paige.”

Paige fell apart with a scream, body convulsing violently. Tears leaked hot down her cheeks as she sobbed Azzi’s name over and over, voice gone and ruined, completely, beautifully undone.

Azzi didn’t stop until Paige was begging, voice cracking. She gentled her fingers, mouth slowing, soothing, pressing needy kisses over oversensitive skin while Paige trembled and hiccupped for breath, clutching Azzi’s shoulders with bruising force.

Azzi finally pulled back, licking her lips, eyes dark and glassy. She pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to Paige’s hip, then trailed slow, shaking kisses up her stomach, her ribs, her collarbone, murmuring I love you against every inch of her skin.

When she reached Paige’s face, she cupped her cheek gently, thumbs brushing away tears. 

Paige was wrecked—eyes glassy, cheeks wet, lips parted with little gasps of air. 

Azzi kissed her forehead softly, then her mouth, slow and deep, letting Paige taste herself, letting her feel every ounce of love and hunger poured into the kiss.

Paige clung to her like a lifeline, chest heaving, body still twitching with aftershocks, her moans muffled in Azzi’s mouth.

Azzi didn’t let go. She just held her there, breathing her in, promising her everything without saying a word. “I’ve got you,” she whispered. “Always.”

Paige laughed, but it was wet and raw. “Still scared.”

Azzi pressed her forehead to hers, their tears mixing. “Good. Me too.”

Paige swallowed hard. “But I’m yours.”

Azzi’s voice broke. “Always.”

They didn’t move for a long time.

Just breathing.

Entwined.

Everything forgiven.

Everything promised.

They lay tangled on the old rug, the quiet of the empty house pressing in around them like a warm blanket. The single lamp cast golden light across sweat-slicked skin, catching on tear tracks drying on flushed cheeks.

Paige’s head rested over Azzi’s racing heart, ear pressed so close she could hear every thump slow from panic to peace. 

Azzi’s fingers carded lazily through her damp hair, scratching her scalp in slow, comforting circles.

Paige let out a shuddery breath she’d been holding for too long, trying to let her weight sink into Azzi completely, trusting her to hold it.

For a while, neither of them spoke. It was enough just to be there. Enough to know they weren’t going anywhere.

But eventually Paige lifted her head, just enough to meet Azzi’s gaze. Their eyes were glassy but clear. Honest in the way only exhaustion and release could force them to be.

Her voice was quiet, cracking at the edges.

“I want you in Dallas,” she said. “Selfishly. Always.”

Azzi didn’t flinch. She didn’t look away. Instead she lifted her hand to Paige’s cheek, cupping it, thumb stroking the sticky tear track there.

She pressed their foreheads together until they breathed the same warm air.

“I know,” Azzi whispered. Her voice was gentle, almost heartbreakingly soft.

She kissed Paige slow, careful, like sealing something precious. Like promising. Then she pulled back just enough to see her eyes.

“But I need to see where I land,” Azzi continued. “I need my own path. I need to know I didn’t get there because someone made space for me.”

Paige shut her eyes tight at that. Her fingers dug into Azzi’s ribs, grounding herself, trying not to shake apart again. She felt the words crawl up her throat raw, too big to swallow.

“Okay,” she finally forced out, voice breaking. “I’ll be wherever you are.”

But Azzi shook her head. Soft, slow, sure. Their noses brushed, lips so close they shared the same trembling breath.

“No,” Azzi whispered. It was so gentle it made Paige shiver. “You stay where you need to be. I’ll stay where I need to be. We’ll figure it out.”

Paige swallowed hard, eyes brimming. She blinked, a tear escaping despite her best effort.

Her voice was so small it almost didn’t make it out.

“Promise?”

Azzi’s fingers threaded tighter in Paige’s hair, grounding them both. Her voice cracked too, but it was fierce in a way that made Paige’s heart clench.

“Promise,” Azzi breathed. “Nothing breaks us.”

Paige let out a sob that was half relief, half grief for all the ways they’d hurt each other this week.

Azzi caught it with her mouth, kissing her deeply, slowly, like sealing the promise in both their bones.

The kiss softened until it was just lips brushing lips. The air between them felt too warm, too alive.

Their breathing slowed together.

Their eyes fluttered half shut.

Slow.

Certain.

Them.

Azzi’s hand stroked up and down Paige’s back, the motion so gentle Paige thought she’d melt into her completely. 

Paige swallowed again. Her voice was quieter, more shy, like she was embarrassed by how much she needed to know.

“Would you… be upset if you actually ended up in Dallas?” she asked.

She hesitated, biting her lip so hard she tasted blood. “Like… would you feel weird? Being there with me?”

Azzi’s brow softened immediately. She let out a long, steady breath and her thumb brushed under Paige’s eye.

“Upset? No, P.” Her voice was unwavering. “I’d love being there with you. You know that.”

Paige blinked hard. Her eyes flicked away for a second. “Yeah. But… I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have your own path.”

Azzi squeezed her side gently, pulling her attention back. Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over Paige’s ribs, like she could calm the worry out of her.

“I just want it to be because that team wants me,” Azzi said, voice thick but sure. “Because I fit. Because I earned it. I want to prove myself. If that’s Dallas? Then hell yes, that’s what it is. I’d be so happy. But I need it to be real.”

Paige swallowed hard again, blinking so fast her vision blurred. She felt heat sting at the backs of her eyes, trying so hard to hold it together.

“Yeah,” she whispered. Her voice cracked anyway. “I get that. I really do. I just… fuck, Azzi. I want you with me so bad.”

Azzi let out a quiet, wobbly laugh, pressing their foreheads together again. Their noses brushed and Paige felt the tears spill hot between them.

“I know you do,” Azzi murmured. She kissed Paige’s nose, feather-light, tender in the way only Azzi could be. “And I love the idea too. I do.”

Paige let out a breath, ragged and relieved. Her thumb brushed over Azzi’s ribs in slow circles, grounding them both.

“Yeah?”

Azzi nodded seriously. “Yeah. It’d be… amazing. But promise me something?”

Paige sniffed hard, voice tiny. “Anything.”

Azzi’s fingers threaded tighter into Paige’s hair, like she couldn’t let her slip even an inch away.

“Don’t get your hopes too high. Don’t… plan for it. I don’t want you to be crushed if it doesn’t go that way. Because we’re going to be fine no matter what.”

Paige felt her chest cave in. She hesitated, fighting everything in her that wanted to say she couldn’t promise that. But she forced herself to nod, jerky and real.

“I’ll try,” she whispered.

Azzi’s thumb brushed away another tear.

“That’s all I’m asking.”

They kissed again. Slow. Deep. Letting the truth of it sink in. Letting it fill every broken place between them.

Paige let out a tiny, shaky laugh against Azzi’s mouth.

“Pretty romantic spot for this talk, huh?”

Azzi snorted, their noses bumping. “Yeah. Hardwood floors and take-out. Very on-brand for us.”

Paige huffed, pushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead. “Ow. My hip’s gonna be so bruised.”

Azzi rolled her eyes with affection so deep it made Paige ache.

“Come on, old lady. Let’s get off the floor before you break something.”

Paige let Azzi help her up. Her legs shook, and she grabbed Azzi’s arms, laughing weakly.

“Whoa. Okay. My legs don’t work anymore.”

Azzi steadied her, fingers digging into her waist. “Gee, wonder why,” she teased, voice low.

Paige’s ears went red. She tried to glare, but it melted into a shy, exhausted smile.

“Shut up.”

Azzi leaned in, brushing the corner of her mouth with a kiss that was all promise.

“Never.”

They moved carefully down the narrow hallway, hands brushing, shoulders bumping, trying not to trip over their own wobbly legs. 

The old floor creaked under them like it was greeting them back with every step. Azzi held Paige’s fingers tight, grounding them both, her thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against Paige’s palm.

The closer they got to Azzi’s room, the more Paige felt her chest tighten. Not with fear anymore—but with that unbearable fullness that was all Azzi.

When they reached the door, Azzi paused. She glanced at Paige, eyes soft, mouth quirked just slightly, like she was nervous in a way that was new and old all at once.

Paige swallowed, blinking at the cracked white paint, at the tiny dent near the knob from when Azzi had slammed it too hard during an argument years ago.

Azzi watched her carefully.

“Hey,” she murmured. Her voice was low but sure, tugging Paige back from whatever memory had grabbed her. “What’s that face?”

Paige blinked hard, eyes stinging for no reason that made sense. She let out a shaky breath.

“Just… a lot of memories here,” she admitted, voice cracking.

Azzi’s chest tightened. She pressed closer, their foreheads bumping, breath mingling. Her fingers tightened around Paige’s hand.

“Good ones?” she asked gently.

Paige sniffed, biting her lip hard before it trembled too much. She gave a jerky nod.

“Yeah. All of them.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath of her own, her eyes glistening. She leaned in, pressing her lips softly to Paige’s temple.

“Same.”

Paige let out a little laugh, wet and raw but real.

“God, we were so stupid,” she whispered.

Azzi cracked a smile, brushing their noses.

“Yeah. Still are.”

Paige huffed, her own smile breaking through. “At least we’re stupid together.”

Azzi kissed her again, slow, deep, patient. Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like it was the only thing that had ever made sense.

Then she tugged Paige gently inside.

Azzi watched her. Saw every flicker of feeling cross her face. She didn’t rush her. She just held her hand, thumb stroking over her knuckles slow and sure.

“Hey,” she said softly, voice breaking just a little. “You with me?”

Paige turned to her, blinking hard. Her eyes were glossy but certain.

“Yeah,” she whispered. She gave Azzi’s hand a squeeze. “I’m with you.”

Azzi let out a breath that shook on the way out. She tugged Paige closer, until there was no space between them.

“Good,” she murmured, voice so low it was almost lost in the quiet. “Because I’m not letting go.”

Paige let out a sound between a sob and a laugh, her fingers curling into the hem of Azzi’s shirt.

“Promise?”

Azzi nodded.

“Promise.”

They both moved then, crawling onto the too-small bed together. It creaked under their weight, familiar in its imperfection. Paige struggled to untangle the rumpled sheets with one hand while keeping her other tangled in Azzi’s shirt.

Azzi laughed, a quiet, exhausted sound that settled right in Paige’s chest. She grabbed the edge of the sheet to help, and they fought with it for a second, giggling when they got stuck.

Finally they managed to get it half-decent, and Paige collapsed against Azzi with a huff.

She immediately tucked herself close, burying her face against Azzi’s neck. She breathed her in, let that smell of skin and shampoo and everything safe fill her head.

Azzi wrapped both arms tight around her, one leg thrown over Paige’s hip like she was staking a claim.

“Comfy?” she murmured, lips brushing Paige’s hairline.

Paige’s voice was muffled but sure. “Perfect.”

Azzi pressed a long kiss to her temple.

“Good.”

The house creaked around them, settling in the late-night quiet. Faint sounds drifted from outside—the hum of cicadas, a distant car engine, the wind rattling the old window glass.

Paige felt her entire body loosen by slow degrees. She let her fingers draw lazy, mindless shapes on Azzi’s side, grounding herself in the heat of her.

Finally, in a small, almost shy voice, she whispered, “Thanks for talking to me. For… everything.”

Azzi’s arms squeezed tighter. Her fingers stroked up and down Paige’s spine in gentle lines, soothing and anchoring all at once.

“Always,” Azzi murmured.

Paige smiled against her skin, eyelids growing heavy.

“Love you.”

Azzi hummed low in her throat, voice rumbling against Paige’s cheek.

“Love you more.”

Paige mumbled something incoherent, but happy, already half-asleep.

Safe.

Azzi smiled into the dark, pressing one last kiss to Paige’s hair, and let her own eyes drift shut.

Listening to Paige breathe.

Feeling her heart beat slow.

Knowing that no matter what came next, they’d find their way.

–

They woke tangled together in the muted gray of pre-dawn, the air still and close, the whole house hushed except for the occasional settling creak of old floorboards. 

Paige was on her back, hair a wild halo against the pillow, one arm crooked protectively around Azzi’s bare shoulders. 

Azzi was practically draped over her, one leg thrown over Paige’s hips like she was staking a claim she had no intention of ever giving up.

Azzi made a low, exhausted sound, her nose scrunching. 

“God. Everything hurts.” Her voice was a sleepy rasp, muffled as she tried to burrow her face further into Paige’s chest, avoiding the weak morning light filtering in through the blinds.

Paige let out a tired, satisfied laugh, the vibration making Azzi’s cheek rise and fall where it pressed to her ribs. 

Her fingers traced slow, lazy circles along Azzi’s spine, memorizing every dip and curve. “Pretty sure you told me not to stop. Multiple times.” She couldn't help the smugness that slipped into her voice.

Azzi groaned dramatically, fingers tightening on Paige’s side. “Regret,” she mumbled. But even that sounded soft, affectionate. Like she couldn’t bring herself to mean it.

Paige’s mouth curved into a real smile, eyes heavy but warm. She turned her head just enough to press a kiss to Azzi’s hairline. “Liar,” she murmured.

Azzi didn’t even deny it, just huffed, pressing closer, as if trying to crawl inside Paige and stay there forever. Paige let herself savor it for a moment. The feel of Azzi’s weight. The heat of her. The way her breathing was slow and even, safe. 

And even after everything they’d been through—every fight, every jagged edge—they still ended up here. Tangled together. Like the only thing that made sense.

Then a knock rattled the quiet, sharp and authoritative.

Azzi jerked in surprise, but Paige froze completely as Katie’s voice drifted in, maddeningly calm.

“Breakfast in ten. Don’t be late.”

Paige blinked, eyes wide, mind scrambling. She yanked the sheet up around their naked bodies in pure, mortified reflex. “Yes, ma’am,” she croaked automatically, voice cracking like a teenager.

Azzi let out an actual whine, dragging a pillow over her head. “Mooooom.”

Katie didn’t even react to the scandalized tone. She just stood there in the cracked doorway, that knowing smirk curving her mouth. Like she’d been waiting for this moment. “It’s your last day. Don’t forget to say goodbye to everyone.”

Her eyes flicked to Paige, and they softened, just a little. Paige felt her ears go red immediately. Katie’s voice gentled. “I mean it. Don’t make me drag you back in here for hugs.”

Paige swallowed hard, heat crawling all the way down her neck. She nodded jerkily. “Noted. We’ll be there.”

Katie gave them both that look—equal parts exasperated and amused, with a heavy dose of maternal affection—and closed the door with deliberate finality.

Azzi let out a muffled screech into the pillow the moment it clicked shut. “I can’t believe she just…like…barged in. Oh my god.” Her voice cracked with mortification.

Paige was still giggling helplessly, her face buried in Azzi’s hair. She inhaled the faint scent of sweat and shampoo, refusing to let Azzi’s squirming push her away. “She didn’t even flinch. Queen energy. Truly.”

Azzi turned her head just enough to glare at her, cheeks pink. “She knew we were in here…cuddling.”.

Paige’s eyebrows wiggled exaggeratedly. “Cuddling is one word for it.”

Azzi let out an indignant squawk and smacked her shoulder lightly. “Shut up.” But she couldn’t hide the way her mouth quirked, like she wanted to smile even if she refused.

Paige’s fingers found her chin, tilting it up just enough to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. She let it linger, breathing Azzi in. 

When she pulled back, her eyes were bright and teasing and stupidly full of love. “Never,” she whispered, voice low but certain.

Azzi rolled her eyes but melted against her anyway. Paige felt the last of the tension leave her bones. 

For all the embarrassment, for all the soreness in places she didn’t want to think about yet, this—this was what she wanted. Azzi warm and real in her arms, grumbling but so clearly hers.

–

After a few more stolen seconds and soft kisses, they finally managed to untangle themselves from the warm tangle of sheets, both of them groaning like they’d run a marathon instead of…well. 

Azzi’s hair was a wreck, sticking up in defiance of gravity, and her eyes were barely open as she fumbled around for her shorts. 

Paige was no help at all, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, trying so hard to hold back her laughter that her shoulders shook.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Azzi muttered, cheeks pink as she yanked her shirt on inside-out without noticing.

Paige’s grin was wide and delighted. “Can’t help it. You’re adorable when you’re grumpy.”

Azzi scowled, running a hand through her hair in a futile attempt to flatten it. “Oh hush. I’m not awake enough for your bullshit.”

Paige only laughed, that warm, relieved sound she’d missed hearing all week. They were okay. They were so okay.

They padded down the hall barefoot, Azzi still muttering under her breath, and walked into the bright kitchen, blinking against the sudden light. 

Katie was at the stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes with the ruthless efficiency of a general commanding troops. The smell of butter and syrup filled the air, warm and safe and home.

Tim sat at the table pretending to read the newspaper, but his eyes flicked over the top with the kind of gleeful dad amusement that said he’d been waiting for this.

“Morning, girls,” Katie sing-songed without turning around. Her voice was so smug it was practically illegal. 

“Sleep well?” Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she flipped a pancake. “I assume you eventually got some sleep.”

Azzi froze mid-step, eyes going wide in absolute horror. “Mooooom.”

Paige didn’t even hesitate. She sauntered to the table, pulled out a chair, and dropped into it with theatrical flair. Her grin was weaponized. “Oh, we slept great.”

Azzi’s head whipped around so fast her hair flew. “Paige!”

Paige raised both brows innocently. “What? She’s the one who asked.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers behind her head, looking for all the world like she was the queen of the damn universe.

Katie turned just enough to cast them both the smuggest look ever. “I bet you did.”

Azzi let out a strangled groan and slapped both hands over her face. “I hate this family.”

She peeked through her fingers to glare at Paige. “Just because we’re older now doesn’t mean I want to have these conversations with my mother.”

Katie didn’t miss a beat. She arched an eyebrow, spatula in hand. “Oh please. You think we didn’t know what was going on when Paige lived here? You two were about as subtle as a marching band.”

Paige propped her chin on her hand, eyes twinkling. “I mean…we were basically feral back then.”

Azzi’s eyes widened in betrayal. “Paige!”

Katie sniffed theatrically. “Mm-hm. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. For my sake and yours.”

Azzi let out an inhuman noise and covered her face. “I hate it here.”

Paige snickered, sliding closer to press a gentle kiss to Azzi’s hairline. “Good thing you love me.”

Azzi mumbled through her hands. “Debatable.” But she was definitely smiling underneath.

Katie finally wiped tears of laughter from her eyes, giving them both the sternest fake glare imaginable. “You two are the worst. Pancakes are almost ready. Sit. Behave.”

Paige blinked with exaggerated innocence. “I am so well-behaved.”

Tim snorted behind the paper. “Sure you are, kid.”

Azzi just groaned, face falling into her hands on the table. “Kill me now.”

But even as she said it, Paige’s hand found hers under the table. Their fingers laced instinctively, easy, familiar. Azzi didn’t pull away. She just let Paige hold on, thumb brushing gently over Paige’s knuckles once, twice.

Katie turned back to the stove, pretending to be busy, but Paige caught the soft smile tugging at her lips. She watched them from the corner of her eye with that same knowing look she’d always had, the one that said she saw everything.

And she was glad.

And in that moment, with the smell of pancakes, the rustle of the newspaper, the sunlight pouring in the window, Paige felt that usual fear buried deep in her chest go quiet.

–

They stepped onto the porch, bags slung over their shoulders, the early morning air cool and damp against sleep-warm skin. 

Dawn was just cracking open the sky in pale pinks and quiet golds, dewdrops clinging to every blade of grass, glinting like tiny promises. 

The whole Fudd family was there to see them off, bleary-eyed but determined, clustered in the doorway in mismatched sweats and slippers, hair mussed from sleep but refusing to miss a second of this goodbye.

Tim stood at the front, solid as ever, arms folded over his chest like he was barring the door. His eyes were puffy but alert, watching them the way only a dad could. 

When Paige stepped close enough, he reached out and clapped her shoulder with a firm smack that rattled her teeth but somehow settled her heart.

“Don’t kill each other on the road,” he said gruffly, his voice a scratch of sleep and emotion he didn’t dare show.

Paige snorted, rolling her eyes but unable to hide the grin splitting her face. “Low bar, Tim.”

Azzi elbowed her gently, lips twitching despite the tears shining in her eyes. Her throat bobbed hard, trying to keep them back. She looked at Paige for just a breath, soaking her in, before her gaze slid back to her parents, chest heaving with something too big to name.

Katie had her arms crossed, trying so hard to look tough. But she dropped it with a small shake of her head and just opened them. 

Azzi didn’t hesitate. She dropped her bag with a thump and buried herself in her mother’s hold, fingers bunching in the back of Katie’s sweatshirt like she was six again.

Katie squeezed so tight Azzi made a startled squeak but didn’t pull away. Her lips pressed to her daughter’s temple, words murmured just for her. 

Paige couldn’t hear them all, but she caught the tremble in Azzi’s mouth, the way her eyes squeezed shut as the first tear slipped free. Katie smoothed her hair back and kissed her forehead firmly.

“You know we’ll see you in a few weeks,” she said softly, voice steady despite the catch. “Don’t think for a second we’re missing that first UConn game. Even if it’s just preseason.”

Azzi sniffed hard, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah. Okay.”

Katie cupped her face one last time before turning. Her eyes landed on Paige and softened instantly, glistening. Paige shifted on her feet, awkward, her bag clutched tight in one white-knuckled hand.

Katie didn’t wait. She closed the space in two steps and wrapped Paige up in a hug so solid it was impossible to misinterpret. 

Paige went stiff for half a second, her breath catching, before she just caved. She melted into it, arms circling Katie’s back, face burying in her shoulder like she was trying to hide.

Katie’s voice dropped to a low, fierce whisper meant for Paige alone. “You listen to me.”

Paige’s whole body tensed like a startled deer. But Katie just held her tighter, grounding her with the press of her hands.

“You’re just as much my daughter as she is. I love you, Paige Bueckers. Always have. Always will.”

Paige made a sound that wasn’t quite a sob, wasn’t quite a laugh. It broke out of her chest raw and shaking. “I love you too, Mama K,” she rasped, voice cracking like old glass.

Katie squeezed even tighter, ignoring the tears dampening her sweatshirt. “Good. Don’t forget it. And don’t you dare forget to call me before you head to Miami.”

Paige laughed then, wet and hiccuping. “Okay,” she whispered, voice falling apart.

Katie drew back just enough to catch the tears on Paige’s cheek with her thumb, eyes shining with pride and worry and endless love. “That’s my girl.”

Behind them, Tim cleared his throat so violently the coffee in his mug sloshed. He lifted it to hide his face but failed spectacularly, blinking way too much.

“Allergies,” he grumbled.

Katie didn’t even turn. “Sure, Tim.”

He huffed but couldn’t stop himself. He stepped forward and gathered both of them in one massive arm, his other clutching the coffee mug like a lifeline. 

It was meant to be manly, restrained—but it fell apart halfway through. His hand patted their shoulders, gruff, muttering about “damn kids” under his breath, but there was no hiding the quiver in his voice.

Azzi sniffed hard, voice cracking. She glanced between her parents, swallowing back another wave of tears. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Katie’s eyes shone with fierce certainty as she nodded, voice low but sure. “I know you will.”

For a moment, neither Paige nor Azzi moved. They just stood there, soaking it in. 

They both knew—deep down—that Katie and Tim Fudd had always been this way. Ever since quarantine, when they'd first fumbled their way out of friendship and into something more, it was these two who wouldn't let them run from it. 

They were the ones who made them talk when they fought, who wouldn’t let them pretend everything was fine. Paige and Azzi had always known they could come here when they felt lost—always knew these two would help them find their way back to each other.

Paige swallowed, her throat tight. Azzi felt her fingers tighten in Paige’s without thinking. 

This was family. The kind that wouldn't let you give up.

Katie watched them, eyes moving back and forth, fierce and soft all at once. She let out a shaking breath, blinking furiously. “You two are gonna be fine.”

Paige blinked fast, a tear sliding down her cheek that she didn’t bother to wipe. Azzi bit her lip hard, fighting to keep it from trembling.

They turned, reluctantly, and started down the steps slowly. Gravel crunched under their shoes, too loud in the hush of dawn. Their bags bumped against their hips, shoulders brushing.

When they reached the car, they loaded their stuff in silence, the ritual familiar and comforting. But before they climbed in, they both turned one last time.

Katie stood on the porch, arms folded tight around herself, trying so hard to keep her face together. Tim lifted his coffee in a silent salute, his eyes wet but proud, mouth firm with unspoken support.

Azzi swallowed hard and found her voice. “I love you guys.”

Katie’s voice broke but didn’t falter. “Love you too. Both of you. Always.”

Paige blinked the world clear. Her voice was rough. “Thank you. For…everything.”

Katie’s face broke into something soft and warm, even as tears glittered in her lashes. “Just keep taking care of each other.”

Tim rumbled low, his voice deep and certain. “That’s all that matters.”

Paige nodded, her hand already finding Azzi’s again, fingers lacing so tight they couldn’t tell whose was whose. “Yeah. We will.”

Azzi let out a breath that shook through her whole body but settled something deep. She squeezed Paige’s hand like a promise. “Promise.”

They climbed in together. Doors shut with a thunk that echoed in the quiet. Seatbelts clicked. Their hands found each other over the console, fingers tangling tight, anchoring them both.

Paige turned to look at Azzi. Her eyes were wet but clear. Determined. Unbreakable. “You ready?”

Azzi’s lip trembled but her smile was real. Sure. “Yeah. You?”

Paige let out a long, shuddering breath and leaned her head back against the seat, closing her eyes just for a second. She squeezed Azzi’s hand. “Always.”

They sat like that for one more heartbeat, listening to the world hold its breath around them. Then Paige turned the key. The engine rumbled to life.

Azzi’s thumb stroked slow, grounding circles over Paige’s knuckles. Paige squeezed back.

And they pulled away.

Down the long driveway.

Onto the winding road.

The horizon cracked wide open in front of them, glowing with possibility.

They didn’t know exactly where basketball would take them next. 

Which cities. Which teams. How many nights apart.

But they knew this.

Them.

Unbreakable.

Ready.

Always.

[slutty4jk]

KISS ME! | JJK › PART 1

Summary: You and Jungkook have known each other your whole lives. Childhood best friends turned almost something more. He’s charming, popular, and scared of commitment. You’re ambitious, guarded, and tired of being a maybe.

After one kiss changes everything, you realize wanting him isn’t enough if he won’t choose you back. But walking away is easier said than done.

University brings distance, jealousy, and new people. You’re ready to move on. He’s finally starting to realize he can’t. Not when it’s always been you.

pairing: childhoodbestfriend!jungkook x (fem) reader

genre: angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, childhood friends to lovers, kinda toxic but delicious, mutual pining, fluff & eventual smut

rating: 18+ (mdni!!)

word count: 3.4k 💌

warnings: emotional whiplash, jealousy, possessive behavior, fear of commitment, unresolved tension, mutual obsession, brief mentions of sex, hurt/comfort, pining, lots of yearning

A/N: I finally hit post!!!! AAAAAAAA I’ve always been anxious about sharing anything I create, so I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it hehe. This is my first fic (kinda), so please be gentle with me. I’m also lowkey new to Tumblr, so I’m just going off what I’ve seen other fanfic creators do, hopefully I’m doing this right. I don’t have too many solid plans for this story yet, but I truly hope you stick around. Also hope this lives up to the hype the teaser got heheh 🤓 Happy reading! - Ivy ₍^. .^₎Ⳋ

Taglist: @akirawhore @amarawayne @jahnaviii @crazyovayou @niniythv @dollyunjinz @yungies @caaally @aestheticalime @flaneuseonthestreets @goldenko-97 @lachimolalajeon @buckylov3r @labbbaaa @bts123746 @chxiosworld @amarawayne @qu3t @littlecherri @alessiamargaux @lokislittlemouse-library @enchantingeagleengineer @jeoncasino @minnie-mouser22 @tinytangerineangel @yourlittleslutcums @httpjeonlicious @uaremyserene @intro-bts @glossyxiaoting @cdllevantae

please like, reblog, follow & scream into the void for more! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

KISSME!MOODBOARD | KISSME!PLAYLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST ⭑.ᐟ

(One Year Ago)

You’ve known Jeon Jungkook since the day he was born. Your moms were best friends before either of you even existed, girls who grew up together, fell in love with life side by side, and then raised their kids side by side too. You were born in February, and just like fate, Jungkook followed in September, just six months behind you, and from that moment on, it was the two of you. Always.

You were inseparable. Friends before you even understood what friendship meant. Sleepovers, scraped knees, shared snacks, birthday candles blown out together, all of it.

And then high school happened.

You drifted. Slowly, painfully. The way people sometimes do when the world starts asking more of them.

You went to a top-ranked all-girls private school, the kind with uniforms pressed to perfection, essays that weighed as much as bricks, and girls who competed to see who could have the best grades. Jungkook ended up at the local public school. It was louder, messier, freer. His parents wanted him to have a social circle outside of the snooty prep school one.

You started moving in different circles, living different lives. And somewhere along the way, your daily texts became weekly, then monthly, and then… nothing at all.

So when he invited you to a house party at his friend’s place, you were shocked. And maybe a little bit hopeful. Maybe this meant something. A bridge being rebuilt.

You dressed carefully that night. A pale pink tweed dress with gold buttons, white stockings, and shiny Mary Janes. Definitely overdressed for a house party, but you didn’t care. You wanted to look good. Maybe even wanted him to notice.

He didn’t.

He barely looked at you when you got in his car. Just a casual nod. No compliment. No hug. No "I missed you.” Or just a simple “How’s life?” To catch up.

It stung.

You quickly realized the only reason you were even invited was because his mom insisted he bring someone she trusted in order for him to go, and that someone was you.

As soon as you got there, he ditched you, disappearing in the crowd. You stood awkwardly by the drinks table, sipping a Coke Zero, the cold fizz sharp on your tongue. You didn’t know anyone. Everyone else seemed to know everyone. Loud laughter, inside jokes, bodies swaying to the beat.

You felt overdressed, overlooked, and completely out of place. People stared. Girls whispered. But you held your head high like your mom taught you.

You searched the crowd for Jungkook and when you found him, your heart sank.

He was on the couch, some girl straddling his lap, his hands gripping her waist, her fingers tangled in his hair. Mouths moving like they were starving. Oblivious to everyone else in the room.

Your stomach twisted so hard it felt like it was trying to fold in on itself. A bitter sting crawled up your throat, sharp and sour, like you’d swallowed regret.

Suddenly, the air felt too thick. You weren’t supposed to be here. You should’ve said no. You just wanted to spend time with him.

That’s all.

You pushed the patio door open, letting the cool night air wash over you. Arms wrapped tightly around yourself, fighting off the chill and the burn in your chest. It felt like stepping into a different world, darker, quieter, with the distant thump of bass bleeding from inside. You leaned against the railing, trying to relax a bit.

“Hey,” a voice said behind you, soft but close. You jumped, your spine going stiff as you turned.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the guy said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. His lips quirked up, amused. “Though… I’m starting to think you scare easy.”

You startled and turned fast, your pulse kicking up.

“You’re real smooth,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

He grinned. “Smooth’s better than sleazy, right?”

“You always approach girls like that?”

“Only the ones standing alone in expensive shoes.”

You glanced down at your Mary Janes.

“And what if I’m just lost?”

“Then I guess I’m lucky.”

You tried not to smile, but failed.

“What’s your name?” He was handsome and looked like the type that would break your heart. Why not let him entertain you for a while?

“Eunwoo,” he said, shifting closer. “And you’re…?”

“Y/N.”

“Pretty name,” he said, leaning one elbow against the railing beside you. “Let me guess. St. Michael’s?”

You blinked. “How’d you know?”

“You’ve got that energy,” he said. “Put together. Fancy. But kind of annoyed to be here.”

You let out a dry laugh. “That obvious?”

“Only to someone who’s also pretending to have fun.”

You smiled. He was disarming, in that effortlessly flirty way that made you want to roll your eyes and lean in closer.

“You don’t seem like the house party type either,” you said.

“Not when half the people here still think fart jokes are peak comedy,” he replied but you could tell he only says that to impress you.

You let out a soft laugh, for real this time. “You’re not wrong.”

He tilted his head at you. “So, what’s your deal? You here with someone?”

You hesitated. “I got ditched the second we got here.”

His expression flickered, just for a second. “Ah. That makes sense.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why?”

“Because you’re way too pretty to be standing out here alone if you weren’t.” The compliment caught you off guard.

“Do you always flirt like this?” you asked, half teasing.

“Only when I mean it. I can keep you company, if you want.”

You hesitated, then smiled faintly. “I’d like that.” You were done feeling lonely at this dumb party.

You chatted for a while, nothing too deep. Just a little bit of distraction from the ache in your chest as you sipped on your drink.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” he asked suddenly, eyes searching your face.

You shook your head. “No.” You could have but going to an all girls school made that kind of social circle a bit more difficult.

“Really? That’s hard to believe.”

You laughed softly. “I’m not interested in that sort of thing right now.”

He tilted his head. “Interesting.” He just wanted to know if you were single or not.

You looked up at him. “What about you? Do you have anyone special in your life?”

“Got dumped this morning.” He admits.

You look surprised as he says that, you would have never guessed with the way he was talking to you right now.

“Oh. Sorry.” Your tone is a bit regretful. You hadn’t expected him to respond with… that.

He shrugged. “We didn’t click. Guess I was meant to be alone.”

You echoed his earlier words. “I can keep you company, if you want.”

He grinned. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“And how would you do that?”

You didn’t know what came over you, but you said it anyway.

“What if I said you could kiss me?”

He blinked, then smirked. “I'd ask if you were serious.”

“Does it look like I’m joking?” You lean in.

He leaned in, slow, deliberate. “You’re trouble,” he murmured.

You tilted your chin up. “Do you like trouble?”

“Depends on the kind.” he murmurs and then he kissed you.

He kissed you. Gentle at first, then hungrier. You kissed him back, maybe out of loneliness, maybe out of spite. You weren’t sure. But for a brief moment, it felt nice to be wanted.

You didn’t notice the group of boys by the pool bar watching.

Didn’t see the money exchanging hands.

Didn’t see Jungkook stepping out on the patio.

Jungkook stepped outside just in time to see it. The way your hands clung to Eunwoo’s collar, how his fingers were brushing the hem of your dress lowering to your ass like he had every right to. The kiss was already too far gone. His pace slowed down, eyes narrowing.

A group of his friends stood nearby, some grinning, some groaning, throwing bills into a baseball cap at the poolside bar. His gaze flicked to the hat full of crumpled bills.

“What’s going on?” Jungkook asked, his voice low, guarded.

Mingi didn’t even look up. “We bet Eunwoo he wouldn’t be able to kiss the rich girl in under an hour.” They were watching as if to see what would happen next, ready to add more money into the hat.

“He did it in 45 minutes, he a real sweet talker,” Mingyu added with a chuckle, popping a chip in his mouth like it was just another Friday night. "I wonder if she'll sleep with him.." he thinks out loud.

Jungkook’s nostrils flared.

They made a bet for a kiss and now he might take you to bed?

His eyes flicked back to the hat stuffed with cash, to the smug look on Eunwoo’s face, to your soft smile, the one you used to give him when you were kids.

It reminded him of summers in your neighbourhood, you in your silly sandals and ribboned braids, waiting for him on the porch with two popsicles, always saving one for him.

That smile used to be his.

He remembered it like a favourite song, sweet, familiar. But now? Now you were smiling like that at someone else. And it burned.

You weren’t the girl on the porch anymore; you were all grown up, and now someone completely new got to see that side of you. Someone else got to make you laugh like that. And it made his chest tighten in a way he hated.

He felt something shift in his chest, like his heart had just dropped straight into his stomach. Was it jealousy? Was it disgust? At them or at himself? For leaving you alone? For bringing you here in the first place?

He couldn’t even name what it was, but it felt wrong.

He was moving before he even realized it.

He stormed across the patio, clearing his throat loud enough to slice through the moment.

You broke the kiss first, startled. Eunwoo smirked, the kind of lazy, satisfied grin that made your skin crawl. He knew exactly what he’d done. He had gotten under Jungkook’s skin. He had won the bet, he kissed the girl.

“Y/N,” Jungkook snaps, his voice sharp enough to cut through the noise. He’s standing stiffly just a few feet away, strong arms crossed over his chest. "Let's go."

You blink at him, lips still parted, confused by his sudden intrusion. “What? I was just starting to have fun.” You grumble like a child.

His jaw tightens. “Kissing strangers is fun?” There’s something biting in his tone. Not just judgment, jealousy, too. Thinly veiled and barely contained.

You scoff, heat rising to your cheeks. “You do it.” You just saw him. That girl on his lap, his hands all over her. You didn’t know if they had history or if they were dating but he never mentioned her to you, he never even brought up having a crush.

He’s one to talk.

His eyes flash. “No, I don’t.” It’s not a lie, not exactly. But the way he says it, quiet and defensive, you know he means something else.

“Remind me. Was that your girlfriend or just your entertainment for the night?” Your voice is cold, sharp as glass. You're not just asking. You're accusing.

He knows exactly who and what you're talking about. You saw him back there. Hands all over her like you weren’t even there.

His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t even look surprised. “Trust me,” he mutters, voice tight. “I know her.”

You laughed bitterly. “Yeah. That makes it better.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but nothing came out.

“Can you just leave me alone?” you muttered, voice tight as you brought your arms up around Eunwoo’s neck. Maybe out of spite, maybe out of pain.

If Jungkook could ditch you for some random girl, then why shouldn’t you do the same thing to him?

“No.” Jungkook grabbed your shoulder, firm, pulling you back to face him again.

Eunwoo chimed in lazily, “She’s fine with me, man.” His hands slid to your lower back, hands lowering a little too low for Jungkook's liking.

That did it.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darkened as he stepped forward, closing the space between them. “Get your fucking hands off her,” he growled.

One arm moved around you, yanking you out of Eunwoo’s grasp and behind him like you were something to protect and to claim.

Eunwoo smirked. He liked this. Getting under Jungkook’s skin like it was part of the game. As if he knew Jungkook had the hots for you.

But wasn’t it already obvious?

“Stop,” you snapped, louder this time, your voice cutting between them. “Both of you.” You didn’t want to cause a scene. Especially since you already stood out in this crowd.

Jungkook turned to you, jaw tight. “Y/N. Go to the car.”

It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command. He was pissed.

You didn’t argue this time. You were tired. You wanted to leave anyway. You turned, heading out to the driveway without sparing a glance at either of them. You probably wouldn’t see Eunwoo ever again, so you didn’t even bother saying goodbye or give him a chance to ask you for your number.

Once you were out of earshot, Jungkook took one threatening step closer to Eunwoo, voice low and sharp. “If I ever catch you making bets about her again, I’ll break both your fucking legs. Got it?”

Eunwoo rolled his eyes and lifted his hands like he was innocent. But the message was clear.

He didn’t move. His fists stayed clenched, like holding on could stop everything else from slipping. He was angry. At Eunwoo. At you. Maybe at himself.

But beneath it all, shame was twisting in his gut.

And something else he didn’t want to name.

Something that felt a lot like heartbreak.

Jungkook found you outside, standing by his car with your arms wrapped around yourself, the cool night air brushing against your legs.

That dress, as pretty as it was, wasn’t built for cold air, or this party.

But you already knew that.

And now someone else had touched you. Kissed you.

His stomach turned.

What the hell were you thinking? Letting some stranger put his hands on you like that? Letting him taste you like it meant nothing?

You weren’t like that. At least… you never used to be.

You weren’t just some girl. You were his best friend. Or… you had been.

So why did it feel like he was already losing something he never even got the chance to have?

You didn’t look at him when he approached.

“What was that about?” he asked, irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.

You shrugged, eyes fixed on the pavement. “What?”

“Kissing that guy?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, voice quiet. “Maybe I just wanted to have fun.” Your tone was sarcastic.

He let out a sharp breath, stepping in closer. “Eunwoo’s not a good guy. He cheated on his last girlfriend like six times.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” You grumble, hugging yourself from the cold.

Jungkook scoffed. “Well, he’s not. They were making a bet to see if Eunwoo could kiss you and probably take you to bed right after! Are you that easy, Y/N?”

His voice was laced with anger, sharp and bitter, the words cutting before he could stop them.

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Wow. So now I’m easy? Is that what you think of me? Just some spoiled girl who jumps at the first guy who calls her pretty?”

He clenched his jaw. “Well, it seems like it, doesn’t it?”

You took a step back, your voice rising. “What’s your problem? Why are you getting so mad that I kissed some guy? I don’t care if it was a bet, I was having fun. I wasn’t even supposed to be here, was I? Your mom needed me to keep an eye on you, huh?”

His eyes widened slightly.

You hit a nerve. You read him like an open book.

You turned away, angry, pulling at the handle of the locked car door.

He exhaled, voice lower now. “You weren’t supposed to come… but I brought you anyway, didn’t I? You were supposed to hang around me. Not those other guys, you don’t know what their intentions are.” He scolds you.

That made you snap your head toward him. “With you?” you repeated. “You invited me, then ditched me the second we walked in. I didn’t know anyone. You knew that!” You exclaim angrily.

“I didn’t think—”

“Exactly,” you cut him off. “You didn’t think.”

You blinked at him, heat rushing up your throat. “I looked for you. And I found you with some girl practically dry-humping you in the middle of the living room.”

He dropped his gaze, jaw clenched.

You shook your head, laugh bitter. “I felt so stupid. I thought maybe you invited me because you wanted to see me. Like maybe we’d talk. Catch up. I dressed up and everything—”

He interrupted you. “I noticed.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did, Y/N.” His voice was quiet, but the weight behind it made your breath catch. “You look beautiful.”

Your arms dropped from around yourself. “Then why didn’t you say anything?” you huff, your voice vulnerable.

It wasn't about the compliment. It was about him acknowledging you, him making a stupid comment about how you were overdressed just like he would before.

Jungkook looked at you then, really looked. And there it was.

That flicker in his eyes. That quiet ache.

The one that said everything he didn’t know how to say.

You shook your head, voice softer now. “I felt like you didn’t even want me there. Like you were embarrassed to be around me.”

He stepped in. “That’s not true.”

“Then what is?” you say, staring at him, waiting for him to say something, anything. He didn’t answer, though. Instead, his hand reached for your arm, just lightly, just enough to ground you both.

You let out a breath. “We used to be best friends.”

Jungkook scoffed, shaking his head. “We’re not little kids anymore, Y/N. That whole best friends thing? It doesn’t work like that.”

Your jaw tightened. “No, it does… you just stopped knowing how to be one.” Your words hung in the air, sharp and defensive.

“You’re the prettiest girl here,” he added, softer now, like that would change the ache between you. Even he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince. He said it suddenly, quietly… like it slipped out before he could stop it. Like he was only just realizing it himself.

You scoffed, stepping back. Your voice rose, raw. “Pretty? Please. Is this a bet too? You invite me out here, ditch me, get pissed when someone else kisses me like it matters, and now you call me pretty like that makes it okay?”

He flinched. Your words hit harder than you knew, because he’d already asked himself those same questions. What the hell was he doing? Why was he so mad when he was the one who messed up first?

Your voice cracked, and your hands shoved at his chest. “Tell me, Jungkook. Are you doing this just to see if I’m really that easy? Or do you mean it? Do you really care about me?”

You hit his chest again. Once. Twice. You hit him again, and he didn't stop you, not until the ache in his chest became unbearable. Then, gently, he caught your wrists. His touch wasn’t rough. It was careful but cautious.

He swallowed, his jaw tight. His heart was pounding so hard it hurt. And then, when your eyes finally met his… it hit him all at once.

The fear. The guilt. The jealousy. The truth.

He was afraid of this… of you, of what this could mean, but more than anything, he was afraid he’d already lost you.

His gaze dropped, unable to hold yours.

His voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

“I mean it.”

It wasn’t slick or charming or sure of itself. It was broken open and vulnerable, scraped raw and trembling with something too big to name.

You froze.

Something in you shifted.

He lifted his eyes again, slowly, and for the first time in a long time, you saw the boy who had always been your best friend. The boy who still cared, the look on his face stole the breath from your lungs.

Regret. Longing. Fear. Hope.

All tangled in one unbearable glance.

And then, like everything in the world had been building to this, he kissed you. Not like a mistake. Not like a dare. Like a promise he was too scared to speak out loud.

And you kissed him back because despite everything, part of you had been waiting for this your whole life. It was sudden and deep, full of everything neither of you had the guts to say.

His hands cradled your jaw, warm and trembling slightly, like he was afraid you'd vanish if he let go. His lips tasted faintly like spearmint gum and bad decisions, and your knees nearly buckled.

When you pulled away, lips tingling, you whispered, “I thought I wasn’t supposed to kiss random boys.” You teased.

Jungkook leaned in again, his forehead pressed to yours. “You know damn well I’m not a random boy.”

The second kiss was messier. Needy, deep, slow, desperate. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

One moment you were in the driveway, the next, in the backseat of his car. Your heart was racing. His touch was careful but confident, his fingers memorizing every line of you like a secret only he got to know.

And even though it scared you, how fast it was happening, how much it meant, it didn’t feel wrong.

It felt like the beginning of something you didn’t quite understand yet. But it was yours. His, too.

That night, in the backseat of his car, under the streetlight glow and distant hum of a party you didn’t belong to, you gave yourself to him for the first time. The windows fogged. The car rocked gently. And for a while, nothing else mattered except the quiet gasps, the whispered names, the fingers grasping for something real.

And for a moment, just one, it felt like maybe he belonged to you too.

Or at least… you hoped he did.

[bucketbueckers]

RECKLESS DRIVING

CHAPTER FOUR

content: language, dijonai is making sure that it's clocking to everyone that she's standing on business, n*tre d*me, mental health issues, mentioned injury, cam roman lore 😍....cam roman lore ☹️💔

wc: 6.7k

notes: sooo this was supposed to include both preseason games but i decided to omit it because there was already a ton of development in this chapter and i feel like writing so many games would get super repetitive. if you're personally saddened by that, then. well. im sorry. but im pretty happy with how this one ends and how it turns out (: as always please let me know what y'all think (and live reacts are so encouraged like im begging on my knees at this point!!! they'll make me write faster, i promise) and i hope you all enjoy 🫶

tags: @cowboybueckers @indigo491 @wnba-scotland @volleyballgirlsblog @sillystarv @middyprincess @intoblonde6ftwbbplayers @user1269 @fivest4rbuecks @everyonewatchesuconnwbb @lilpaigeyherbo @simp4panos

The conclusion of training camp welcomes the beginning of the official preseason. The Wings were taking on the Las Vegas Aces at Purcell Pavillion in Notre Dame, home of the Leprechauns and the Fighting Irish. While Cam does have to concede to the fact that her alumnus mascot was (unofficially) a tree, there’s just something about representing a leprechaun that she just can’t get behind.

Either way, their first preseason match was intended to be a welcome home thing for Arike, Jewell, and Jackie, so the last thing Cam was going to do was bitch about a preseason venue.

Their second preseason game was against the Toyota Antelopes at home, a professional basketball team based in Japan. Considering that Mai Yamamoto, one of the Wings guards, plays for the Antelopes in Japan, it was also supposed to be a reunion game of sorts for her and her teammates.

As far as preseason matches went, Cam stopped feeling nervous about them after her first year. They served as the final chance to prove that you deserved a spot on the team if training camp didn’t solidify it. They were more important for rookies and newcomers on the team – and, sure, while they were the first “real” games of the season and gave them a chance to put their chemistry and skills to the test against people who were out for a win and not just to do their job as practice players, Cam knew that preseason standings didn’t really mean anything.

The important part of preseason games wasn’t necessarily the box score, nor was it the number that reflected in the win column. The important part was determining how well players worked with one another, if they showed considerable hustle, if they demonstrated just how badly they wanted to stay on the team in the limited amount of time they were afforded on the court. 

Nobody was playing anymore than thirty minutes; in fact, twenty five was pushing it. Compared to the Aces, the Wings had a lot more roster decisions to make and not nearly enough time to make them. Cam knew that their rotations and lineups would be a crime against basketball, which probably also meant there wouldn’t be a number in the win column as much as there would be one in the loss column. The Aces had made it far into the playoffs last season and were the champions the season prior. They retained a lot of that championship core and had a coach that was considerably more qualified.

That was always the really depressing part about the preseason. Not the unquestionable loss because your first match was against a team that had proven themselves time and time again. It was the fact that there was a chance – no matter how hard you worked – to get waived purely because you didn’t have the time to grow into your role and prove that you could make a difference. That was the depressing thing about the league as a whole, actually. Unless a team was truly committed to a long term rebuild, you had to come in perfect. Ready to play. Ready to grind and hustle. Talent or skill or ambition isn’t always what defines someone’s career in the W. It’s time.

Training camp had been informative. All things considered, the Wings had a really good rookie class. Paige was obviously Paige – she already had undeniable chemistry with a lot of people on the court. She behaves like she’s DiJonai’s annoying little sister, or at the very least, like she’s DiJonai and NaLyssa’s bad ass child who’s constantly testing how much she can get away with. She’s got an easy relationship with Maddy, which surprises Cam a little seeing how much Paige hates Villanova. She connects instantly with the rookies, especially Aziaha and JJ, who showed out the entire week and were itching to claim a roster spot.

It wasn’t just the rookies who came in with something to prove. NaLyssa and DiJonai showed out, impacting majorly on both ends of the court. Ty was lethal, bringing in a sort of veteran guard play that Cam was excited to run with this season. Myisha also brought in some invaluable vet experience, even though everyone all around was confused when Chris started going on about how he wanted Myisha to be more active in bringing the ball up.

Cam wasn’t sure how to voice that opinion – about having their team play out of position like that. She gets what Chris is trying to say about a player-run team, she really does, but there’s roles to play on the court for a reason. When Myisha’s main role is to play at the four or the five, she shouldn’t be expected – let alone coached – to initiate the offense like she’s the starting point guard.

For all of Cam’s experience and time in the league, she just didn’t know how to bring that up to Chris without sounding like she’s discrediting him as a coach, because that would quickly be a surefire way to make things awkward in the locker room. And for as much as he preaches about it being a player-run team, it’s only player-run in the sense that he wants his bigs to shoot threes like they’re prime Curry and to make decisions about offensive sets that he should be making decisions about.

So Cam did what any self-respecting veteran on a team with a questionable coach would do. She put aside her and Nola’s (nonexistent) Unrivaled beef and explained that she just wasn’t confident in how this was being handled. Between Chris’s mandatory morning meditation, his youth pastor sermons, and the fact that he (on multiple occasions) called for his starting point guard (read: number one draft pick, Nancy Lieberman award winning, NPOY as a freshman, national championship winning starting point guard Paige Bueckers) to play off-ball because he’s running a play to get Myisha an open three like she’s Kamilla Cardoso in the final seconds of the SEC semifinals against Tennessee, Cam just thought that maybe someone should step in and let Chris know that his players aren’t really sold on whatever the fuck this is.

And, well, Nola tried. They’d had a lengthy conversation for a while during warm ups that Cam sensed he wasn’t really listening to. Seriously – she was watching them from the corner of her eyes, Nola’s arms gesturing from the passion of her argument, and Chris just stared unblinkingly with his arms crossed. He didn’t say much. Clearly, he didn’t have to.

It wasn’t the whole running-plays-to-get-Myisha-open thing. If she can knock them down, she can, and that’s good for them. It was more about the fact that Chris didn’t seem to prioritize the rest of the offense.

But that was just the first few days of training camp. They still had practices, the entire preseason to get through, and they’re all adjusting. That’s what Cam is trying to remind herself, at least. Chris doesn’t have a lot of experience at the head coach position (which is another issue in and of itself), so maybe he’s just trying to find his footing, too.

A slightly more blunt, if not meaner part of Cam reasons that many players – many of her teammates – won’t be afforded the chance to find their footing or figure out how this works. The front office and coaching staff wouldn’t hesitate to cut a player who wasn’t a good scheme fit or wasn’t producing the numbers they needed. And if Chris doesn’t produce the numbers he needs to because he’s trying to brute force something that just isn’t working out, then…

Cam doesn’t think she has to finish that thought.

Their game against the Aces is tomorrow, and they’re flying out to Indiana in the early afternoon. The flight was only two and a half hours at most, but the staff wanted to get in to have enough time to relax before a quick evening practice. Cam’s dressed for comfort – an all grey Nike sweatsuit from a sponsorship package and a pair of slippers. The rest of the team is dressed similarly in hoodies and sweatpants. Cam slides into her usual seat towards the back, hoping for a little bit of peace and quiet so she can finish the book she’d started at the beginning of the month and swore that she’d actually read.

She supposes the whole peace and quiet thing should have been a little too much to ask for. DiJonai settles into the aisle seat next to her, hair in a loose bun and swamped in a hoodie, and the expression on her face is far too nonchalant to be anything but mischievous.

Paige, who’s standing in the aisle, glances once at the both of them, face shifting like she’d wanted to sit next to Cam and pester her, before she settles into an empty seat a few rows in front of them. And when NaLyssa smiles as she takes the aisle seat next to Paige, Cam knows that this was a set up from the beginning.

Cam crosses a leg over her knee, pushing her headphones over her ears and cracking open her book, hoping that DiJonai would get the message and leave her alone if she looked really committed to minding her business. The peace only lasts until takeoff, a few pages, and a few songs in Cam’s playlist before DiJonai tucks her bookmark into the spine and closes the book for Cam.

Cam sighs. She shifts, pulling one headphone ear off, and stares at DiJonai, who’s grinning. Begrudgingly, she asks, “What do you want?” and DiJonai all but lights up.

“I just wanted to know how draft night was,” Nai says innocently, long lashes fluttering. “You never told us, which is weird because you didn’t shut up about going for a week.”

Cam hopes her face isn’t as red as it feels. “It was draft night,” she says plainly. Unconvincingly. “I did media. Listened to analysts talk about defense and championships. Said hi to Kiki Iriafen.”

DiJonai hums as if she’s fully invested in the story. “And what did you do after the draft?” she asks, not even bothering with trying to be subtle.

“Nai,” Cam huffs, rolling her eyes.

DiJonai raises her hands in surrender. “Hey. Just trying to get the story from you and not the people on Instagram who tagged you in a couple videos at Paige’s afterparty. Better that than making assumptions about the insane sexual tension at training camp, right?”

“There was no sexual tension at training camp,” Cam retorts, but her words fall a little flat and DiJonai’s brows raise slightly. Cam purses her lips, knowing that she’s not making it out of this, and she lowers her voice so only DiJonai can hear her. “Yes, Paige invited me to her afterparty.”

“And?” DiJonai prompts.

“You’re such a freak,” Cam mutters, cheeks burning. She decides to just rip the band aid off. “I went. We drank. A lot. Partied. Then I went back to her hotel room and woke up naked in bed next to her at 5am.” DiJonai nods solemnly and Cam adds, “Which I’m sure you knew since you’re a walking lie detector and you’re always in my business.”

DiJonai can’t help but laugh. “I think you sleeping with my teammate is my business,” she retorts. “Especially my number one draft pick, rookie teammate.”

“You’re sleeping with your teammate, Nai,” Cam states.

“Semantics,” Nai murmurs, and despite herself, Cam can’t help but smile. “So what are you doing about it?”

Cam doesn’t answer for a while, millions of thoughts swimming through her mind at once. She didn’t want a lot of people to know about this. Not yet, at least. It was just supposed to be theirs. Their story, their decision, their cross to bear.

But she knows she can trust DiJonai, who was one of the first friends she’d made when she arrived at Stanford for summer conditioning. She sighs when she spots the blonde hair peeking back at her from a couple of rows up, undoubtedly locked in the same conversation with NaLyssa.

“We’re keeping it clean,” she responds after a beat. Then, she thinks back to how she’d kissed Paige’s knee after wrapping it, how she rode home with the blonde instead of Maddy after team dinner. Then, quieter, she corrects, “Trying to. I’m her vet. She’s my rookie. This year’s gonna be hard for her. I know that better than anyone else. I don’t want our personal… entanglements to make things any more complicated for her.”

DiJonai snorts. “Okay, Jada Smith,” she says, which makes Cam laugh a little. “I want you to try again and tell me the truth this time.”

Cam furrows her brows, finally turning her head to meet DiJonai’s gaze. Her brown eyes are soft, no trace of anything teasing, and Cam swallows thickly, half confused and half caught. “That was the truth, Nai,” she says honestly, her voice faltering a little.

“Can I be brutally honest?”

Cam’s frowning when she says, “You were going to be, anyway.”

DiJonai nods, conceding, because yeah. She was. “Are you making such a big deal of Paige being your rookie because you genuinely want to help her grow and develop in the league or are you so committed to this because you’re trying to heal a part of you that was struggling and didn’t have a vet to be there?” DiJonai asks.

Cam opens her mouth to respond, but she clamps it shut quickly, processing. DiJonai doesn’t wait. Her next words land just as sharply as the first ones. “Intentions are felt differently than actions are. Like, my intent right now is to make you get your head out of your ass, but my actions are probably hurting your feelings a little, right?”

Now that is something she can answer. Cam laughs a little. “A little,” she admits. “In a good way, though.”

“Paige is not going to experience her rookie year the same way you did, Camille,” DiJonai continues, her tone softening. “She has a great head on her shoulders. A support system, a team full of vets that can and would punch back for her. She has you, so be there for her, but don’t get caught up in trying to save her because there wasn’t anyone there to save you. That would ruin the locker room faster than you sleeping together would.”

Cam doesn’t say anything. DiJonai has always been right about a lot of things and Cam knows this is one, even if she never fully realized where her own actions were coming from. Before she can respond, DiJonai is speaking up again. “Do you like Paige?”

“That sounds so juvenile.” Cam attempts a laugh, but the both of them can hear the deflection in it. DiJonai doesn’t even have to look at her sideways before Cam sighs again. “I don’t know what this is, Nai,” she answers. “Paige is just… she makes everything so easy. She’s funny, disgustingly kind, and unbelievably thoughtful for someone who talks so much shit on the court.”

DiJonai nudges her with her elbow. “That sounds like a yes to me, babe,” she whispers.

And that makes Cam exhale sharply, because yeah, it really, really does sound like a yes. It sounds like Cam knowing she was doomed the moment Paige walked backstage with a Wings hat and a glimmering chain dangling over her collarbones. It sounds like Cam knowing that falling into bed with Paige would change the course of their friendship forever and doing it anyway.

“That’s the scary part,” Cam confesses in a soft murmur. “Because we can’t let it happen.”

“Says who?”

“Says me.” Cam swallows, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her sweatpants. “We’re reckless. I slept with her the very night we drafted her. I wanted it. I wasn’t thinking about why I shouldn’t. I meant to have sex with her but I didn’t think it’d go this far.”

“The feelings?” DiJonai supplies, trying to fill in the blanks as her brows furrow.

Cam nods silently, not wanting to say it out loud. “If we go further…if we let this get out of hand, everything will change,” she whispers. “It won’t just be about basketball. It’ll be about her, whatever us means, and the fact that someone will eventually get hurt.”

DiJonai stares at her for a long moment. Cam just sighs, knowing DiJonai is about to tell her something about herself that she hadn’t realized yet. “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself that you can’t have her,” she says. “You’re trying to end it before either of you has a chance to say otherwise.”

“I’m protecting us. I’m protecting her.”

“From who?” DiJonai asks gently. She’s using that tone of voice where she knows the answer already. She’s just trying to make Cam hear it, too. “From yourself? From things you’re scared of that might never hurt her?”

Cam doesn’t respond. Her throat burns with something like guilt and her chest tightens with something that feels like need. No matter how much she wants it – or how much Paige might want her in a way that’s beyond physical, she just can’t. She has to be the careful one, even if she’s the one who keeps pushing their boundaries and falling right back into her.

They haven’t been doing this for a long time. Seeing one another, being teammates, sharing late night rides home like they know which jokes are funnier when combined with midnight delirium. And that’s horrifying because Paige makes it so easy to feel like they’ve been in each other’s lives for longer than a few weeks. It’s all so sudden, so quick, and the worst part isn’t because Cam is scared. It’s because Cam wants more despite it all.

During camp, Cam had told Paige that getting used to the noise meant learning how to give less of yourself to others. She’d meant the media and the journalists. But now, as she listens to NaLyssa’s stifled laughter and Paige’s choked giggles from a few seats away, Cam is suddenly struck with the realization that she might just be asking Paige for too much.

DiJonai was right. She was trying to be Paige’s vet for all of the wrong reasons. They were well-intentioned reasons, sure, but Paige can’t heal old wounds she’s not responsible for. She can’t heal old wounds she doesn’t even know about just because Cam sees too much of herself in her – a critically acclaimed number one draft pick, a franchise piece, someone molded by the sharp press of expectant hands.

Then, in a softer tone, DiJonai is speaking again. “You need to let her want you. You need to let her choose you,” she murmurs. “‘Protecting’ her is just gonna hurt you both in the long run. Don’t be scared to want her.” DiJonai pauses, letting her words settle in the space between them. “There’s never gonna be a right moment, Cam. And if you keep waiting around, you’re gonna miss out on her completely.”

Cam swallows, her throat bobbing. “I know,” she says.

DiJonai looks at her once more before placing her hand over the back of Cam’s head. She tugs gently, pressing her cheek to her temple, and Cam sinks into her touch gratefully. Neither of them have to say anything. Then, DiJonai stands and leaves, and Cam sighs, trying to regulate her thoughts before she reaches for her book again.

The peace, as it always does, doesn’t last too long. When she glances up, Paige is standing in front of her with a sheepish expression on her face, her bag slung over her shoulder and her iPad clutched in her other hand. “Nai kicked me out of my seat,” she supplies quietly. “Said she needed ‘Lyss time’ and that you needed a babysitter.”

Cam huffs, though it sounds more like a breathless laugh, and she shuts her book again as she gestures to the seat. Paige, however, skips the aisle completely and settles on the middle seat, placing her bag in the open spot. Cam doesn’t comment on it, trying to hide her smile, already feeling a little better, as Paige gets comfortable.

“You play today’s Wordle?” Paige asks.

Cam glances over at her, watching her open up her iPad, and she smirks softly. “Didn’t take you for someone who did,” she admits. “Do you play the crossword, too?”

“Do I play the crossword?” Paige repeats, her tone in disbelief. She switches tabs to reveal her results on the mini crossword, where she’d solved it in 47 seconds. Her smile is far too smug. “Big East Scholar Athlete of the Year, remember? And I don’t even need no fancy Stanford degree.”

“Your ego is big enough to have three Stanford degrees,” Cam mutters, but she can’t keep the grin off her face as she watches Paige navigate back to the Wordle tab. “You should try ‘adieu.’”

Paige scoffs, but inputs it anyway. AD are green, and the E is in the wrong spot. Cam smirks to herself triumphantly. “You’re such a tryhard,” she says. “What’s next? Stare, cloud, pinky?”

Cam wrinkles her nose. “Trust me. I’m not that annoying.”

Paige side-eyes her, like she doesn’t believe it. They finish out the rest of the Wordle together, laughing at each other’s guesses, until they end up on the answer adept. It makes Cam feel a little bit better about their situation.

She has to convince Paige to turn on a movie and not film – who willingly watches film before a preseason game? – but eventually, they both agree on a movie that only Paige is watching as she whispers jokes about the actors that Cam can’t help but smile at.

But her head starts feeling a little heavy, falling onto Paige’s shoulder, although neither of them seem to mind. Paige shifts a little if only to make it a little more comfortable.

Cam’s not usually one for napping on the plane. There’s just something about being so far up in the sky that makes her unable to relax – but now? That’s the last thing on her mind.

Paige isn’t joking about the actors’ cringy lines or how bad the storyline is. She’s dragging her fingers soothingly along the inside of Cam’s wrist, right where a phantom ache had been taking root, lulling her into slumber. The last thing Cam truly registers before she fully drifts off is the warmth of Paige’s body against hers.

The Wings touch down in Indiana in the late afternoon. Paige doesn’t say anything about Cam sleeping on her shoulder, so Cam doesn’t either, and the bus ride to the hotel is peaceful. The remnants of Cam’s nap lingers in her bones like a weighted blanket that she can’t quite shake off. She knows better than to sleep when she makes it back to her room. While she knows a lot of players who need a pregame nap to feel energized, it always makes Cam more sluggish for the game. She’ll probably have to hit the gym before everyone else does to wake up a little more.

After unpacking and changing out of her dirty airport clothes, DiJonai drags Cam out of her room for a light dinner with the team prior to their evening practice. Knowing that she has truly no reason to refuse, she joins DiJonai in the lobby to walk to the restaurant. She’s waiting with NaLyssa and Paige – which is starting to become a pattern, but Cam is just appreciative of the fact that everyone is getting along.

Dinner is quick, but lively. The place they’d chosen wasn’t anything too fancy, but it wasn’t fast food, either, and Cam is grateful that it wasn’t in the midst of the dinner rush. She’d feel awful for the waitstaff for having to deal with a party of seventeen hungry athletes along with their other patrons.  Cam is squished in between Paige and Arike at the far end of the table with NaLyssa, DiJonai, and Maddy sitting across from them, which means that their section of the table is probably the loudest.

It’s not annoying or belligerent. It’s probably the most simple feeling of family that Cam’s ever felt in her life, with NaLyssa and DiJonai bickering about what to order and Paige and Arike locked in a heated debate with Maddy about whether or not ankle socks are a crime against basketball and dragging Cam into their argument to settle it.

(Spoiler alert: the argument doesn’t get settled, only because Cam jokes that she’d prefer to hoop barefoot (which, mind you, is not true at all) and everyone took her seriously, leading into an entire sub-argument.)

They go their separate ways after dinner, parting long enough to relax and then grouping up once more with their duffle bags and taking the bus to Purcell. The energy in the locker room is electric. Everyone is excited to play tomorrow – even if some girls were worried about keeping their roster spots.

Chris leads them through a quick meditation routine to clear their minds and get them mentally prepared for practice. Cam still thinks it’s stupid, but if Chris thinks they’re effective, then he won’t stop. Warm ups are thorough, and before she knows it, the team is working through a couple of new plays and a few priority defensive sets.

Everyone is laser-focused, burning through their drills and scrimmages with intensity, and they’re all dripping with sweat when Chris finally ends practice at about 8pm. He thanks them for their time and hustle and reminds them all to meet in the lobby at 9am for team breakfast and a quick film review. 

Cam exhales in relief when their huddle breaks, looking forward to a hot shower and relaxing in bed. She walks with the rest of the team to the locker room, claiming an empty shower to rinse the sweat off and redress in comfortable clothes – she’d shower again back at the hotel. By the time she’s out, there’s only a few stragglers left in the locker room, none of which are the blonde rookie she’d been unconsciously looking for.

Cam figures she’d headed straight back to the bus, so she makes her way down the empty halls with her bag slung over her shoulder. However, the sound of a ball bouncing against polished wood makes her ears perk up, and pauses in front of the tunnel doors, peering through the glass windows. She spots someone standing at the free throw line in front of a hoop and doesn’t even have to wonder who it is.

She pushes the door open and makes her way onto the court, where Paige comes fully into view. The sweat still clings to her practice jersey and her bun looks like it’s seen better days. Still, there’s a spark of determination on her face, and she sinks her next free throw with ease.

Cam steps a little closer, a gentle smile on her face. “You’re making the rest of us look bad, you know,” she calls out, which makes Paige huff out a quiet laugh as she chases after her rebound. “Practice ended, like…” Cam lifts her wrist, glancing down at her watch, “...twenty minutes ago. You tryin’ to miss the bus?”

The ball swishes through the net once more, and this time, it’s Cam who hunts for the rebound. She doesn’t pass it back until Paige responds to her. “Just wanted to get a few more shots in,” she says, and Cam wonders where she’d heard those words before.

She checks the ball back to her with a raised brow, moving to stand under the net. “Nervous?” she asks, no trace of a tease in her tone.

Paige shoots again. Cam rebounds for her. “A little,” Paige confesses. Something in Cam softens. She has half a mind to interrupt, to tell her that she has no reason to be nervous, but she thinks back to the conversation she’d had with DiJonai on the plane. Paige isn’t the same rookie she once was, so she shuts up and lets Paige finish. The ball sinks through the net while she gathers her thoughts.

“I guess it’s more like…anticipation,” she clarifies. “It’s a bigger stage. It means something. It’s a blessing to play and I’m grateful that I get to, but I just…I wanna do well. I don’t wanna mess this up.” Paige stops speaking, but her hands don’t slow. She shoots again, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Cam doesn’t immediately pass the ball back. She shifts its weight between her palms, taking in the quiet softness in Paige’s features. There’s sweat beading at her hairline, a slight exhaustion in her eyes that you wouldn’t normally catch unless you knew what bone-deep tiredness felt like.

She’s been moving non-stop for nearly a month – the Final Four, the National Championship, the countless public appearances and the victory tour, then draft night, then even more appearances, then the entire move and training camp. Cam isn’t sure when is the last time that Paige slept for more than six hours. She gets the impression that she won’t sleep until someone or something forces her to.

“Everyone always tells you that you won’t mess it up,” Cam says plainly, trying to be intentional with her words, DiJonai’s advice still fresh on her mind. Paige’s eyes shine under the fluorescent lights, head tilting slightly. “Which, by the way, is the worst advice ever given, only second to being told to invest in Crypto.” The blonde’s lips quirk into an amused smirk. “Point is…you’re gonna mess up, Paige. You’re gonna make a bad pass and turn the ball over and you’re gonna make a really stupid play on defense and foul someone while they’re shooting a three. And that’s okay.”

Cam passes the ball back to her, and Paige doesn’t respond for a beat. Wordlessly, she shoots again. It swishes in cleanly. “Screwing up is part of the process,” Cam continues. “Means you’re trying, right? And, yeah, it’s hard to not expect perfection from yourself. You’ll kill yourself thinking about what you could have done differently. But the people who love you aren’t gonna think any less of you for being human.” Cam catches the next rebound, and her voice is softer when she says, “Especially not me.”

Paige catches the ball easily, a smile curving on her lips. She doesn’t shoot it again. Instead, she places the ball on the rack, and her next question takes Cam by surprise. “What was your rookie year like?” Cam raises a brow at her, shocked that she actually wants to hear about it, and Paige seems to take her silence as rejection as she hurries to explain. “You talk about like…I don’t know. It’s like there’s pain there.”

Cam sighs, bouncing on her heels again, trying to find the right words to say. But Paige is looking at her with an expression of unadulterated softness, a gentleness that encourages her to find her voice. Paige is the last person in the world who would judge her.

Before she can open her mouth to say anything, her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she glances down at her watch, sheepishly reading the text message from DiJonai. “The bus is about to leave us if we don’t go,” she informs Paige, who nods with slight guilt on her face. She pushes the ball rack to the front of the scorer’s table, grabs her bag, and after clicking off the lights, Cam shuts the door behind them.

They walk through the empty hallways in relative silence. Paige doesn’t push her to speak, and Cam is grateful for that silent support. Eventually, she frowns, asking, “Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, it’s not enough?”

Cam knows that’s a stupid thing to ask Paige. She’d been part of injury-ridden rosters where she had to play center as if she wasn’t five inches shorter than the other players in her role. There were games in her college career where she scored or assisted on nearly all of her team’s points. Where she’d played the full forty minutes despite injuries of her own – and for all of the fight in her body, for every second she played and for every point she scored, it wasn’t enough to take the win.

Paige’s voice is hardly a whisper when she confesses, “Yeah. All the time.”

Cam swallows, vulnerability making her eyes sting. “That’s what my rookie year was like. We were such a young team. Younger than we are now, I think. We had four vets and the rest of us were either rookies, first, or second years. I was drafted first overall to a team that had Marina, Arike, Satou, and Moriah, expected to be the franchise piece, but I just wasn’t. I was good. Just not explosive like I’d been in college.”

“Why?” Paige asks, her tone not unkind. “Did you…struggle to adjust?”

Cam laughs a little, throwing open the door to the parking lot, where the bus idles, waiting for them. “Yeah. That and a trapezium fracture in the national championship that I played through, didn’t heal properly, and probably fucked up for good by going straight into my rookie season.” She waves her right hand for emphasis.

They both fall silent as they step up onto the bus together, much to the wolf whistles and teasing from many of their friends, but the energy quiets down when they catch the somber looks on Paige and Cam’s faces.

DiJonai looks a little apologetic, but Paige just leads Cam towards the back of the bus, where she takes her duffle bag wordlessly and gestures to the window seat. Cam doesn’t complain – she takes the seat, and Paige deposits her bag on the floor of the bus while balancing Cam’s bag on her knees.

“They let you play like that?” Paige questions in a quiet whisper when the bus starts rolling.

Cam shrugs. “I got wrist surgery the day after the game. I was looking at a four to six week recovery period, but I did it in three so I could be cleared for training camp. The trainer told me to take it easy for camp and preseason, so I did, but I tweaked my wrist again in the first preseason game against the Sun. DeWanna Bonner is a very deceptive hundred and fifty pounds. She almost sent my ass to an early retirement.”

The joke doesn’t make Paige laugh. Or even crack a smile. She actually scoffs a little. “And you were the one tellin’ me to listen to my body and to tell the staff when I needed a break.”

That makes Cam smirk. “Where’d you think I got that advice from, Paige? A fortune cookie? I told you. I lived it.”

Paige laughs a little at that. Then, softly, she says, “You’re strong for that.” Cam glances over at her, the tension in her jaw easing, something gentle in her eyes. “Playin’ through it in the natty. Playin’ through it in your rookie season. And still getting Rookie of the Year. You’re kind of a badass.”

Cam snorts, feeling strangely touched. “Yeah, well, I didn’t feel much like one,” she admits. “My numbers dropped. I had too much of an ego to sit out and actually heal my wrist. I didn’t really have anyone to lean on and I didn’t tell anyone about how badly it hurt – much less the media, so I sat through an entire season of ‘Camille Roman’s a bust’ and ‘Dallas should have drafted Charli Collier.’”

“You averaged 22 points a game your senior year at Stanford,” Paige says. Cam glances over, watching her scroll through her season averages on her phone. “8 boards. 5 assists. 3 steals.”

“Thanks, Ryan Rucco.”

“Rookie season,” Paige continues, ignoring her, fingers flying across her screen. “16 points. 5 boards. 3 assists. 2 steals.”

“Yeah,” Cam agrees. “According to ESPN analysts, that’s a pretty steep drop off.”

“You were injured.”

Cam shrugs again. “Didn’t matter. Point is I was doing everything I possibly could have. I was playing through an injury. I was getting extra shots after practices.” Her voice drops to a whisper when she admits, “I ate less. Slept less. I didn’t really have an appetite anymore and I just couldn’t close my eyes at night without thinking of what I could have been doing instead to make my game better.”

She swallows thickly, saying, “Eventually, I went down at a practice shortly before the All-Star break – I’m sure you can guess why. I had to miss the last three games to get my body right and the trainers told me I probably wouldn’t be able to play basketball again if I didn’t take the All-Star break off to rehab my wrist. So…I missed out on my first All-Star appearance and went to rehab. I came back and got my numbers up. I was averaging 11 points before the break. Kind of crazy what good rehab does, right? We made it to the playoffs that season and lost in the first round anyways. Then I took that entire offseason to get my shit together. My wrist and my mental’s better now, but… I don’t know. There’s a part of me that mourns what my rookie season could have been.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Paige says softly. That draws Cam’s attention, because Paige might just be the first person to ever say that to her. Over the course of the past few years, she’s gotten constant affirmations of Well, you got Rookie of the Year anyways! (but at what cost?) or reminders that You should be appreciative that you got to play regardless. Cam hasn’t forgotten either of those.

While she gathers her thoughts, Paige’s left hand absentmindedly finds her right, her fingers pressing soothingly to the side of her wrist, where there’s a lingering soreness from the old injury. It doesn’t hurt like it used to, only flaring up after strenuous practices, but Paige finds the tender parts like it’s second nature. Cam tries to pretend like the gesture doesn’t make heat rise to her cheeks and water sting her eyes.

“You can appreciate what you were able to experience and still wish it was different,” she continues, the look in her eyes faraway like she’s remembering something, too. “I like to think that God has a plan for me, you know. That there’s a reason I got injured and had to miss out on so much. I’m grateful for the lessons but sometimes I wish I just had a few more healthy seasons.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” Cam echos, and the both of them share a matching smile. She sighs, adjusting in her seat, splaying her palm out so Paige has more room to work with. “That’s why I’m the way I am with the rookies,” she confesses, feeling something in her chest loosen at being able to verbalize it after her conversation with DiJonai. “I’d never wish my rookie year on anyone else. And if there’s anything I can say or do to make sure another rookie doesn’t go down that path, then I’d consider that a blessing.”

When Cam looks over, the curve of Paige’s soft smile is illuminated by the street lamps peeking through the bus window. Her cheeks have popped out the slightest bit, something that Cam has noticed she does when she’s truly happy, and it makes her smile, too. “For what it’s worth,” she whispers, “I really appreciate it. You make it feel less lonely and less overwhelming.”

“Even when I fuck up your knee tape?” Cam asks sheepishly.

Paige huffs out a quiet laugh. “Especially then.”

Cam can’t help her wide smile, dropping the eye contact to stare out the window and hope that Paige can’t see the flush on her cheeks. Judging by her chuckle and the way her fingers press a little firmer to her wrist, soothing the last remnants of the soreness, Cam figures that her efforts were for naught.

And, honestly, she doesn’t really mind.

[happyk44]

[ID: 1. Text reading: So I entered into a passiveness,

2. Text reading: Tenderness toward the object of our desire becomes an expression of love partly, I think, because it so defies the nature of want, whose instinct is often less to cuddle than to crush. My want was more gnash than kiss, more eat than embrace. I cared for my lover, but that kind of desire precludes many kind of love. Hunger is selfish. [highlight] I wanted her happiness. I also wanted to unzip my body and pull her into it, or crawl into hers. [end highlight] It is no accident that we go to the pulse. Lust is an urge to consume and perhaps there is no true expression of it that does not imply destruction. I can't say. But even my tenderness for kittens includes an impulse to put them in my mouth.

3. Text reading: [Verse 1]

I'm not angry anymore

Well, sometimes I am

I don't think badly of you

Well, sometimes I do

4. Text reading: I love you, love you, love you endlessly, painfully - my love as a form of mourning, as grief, as devotion

5. Photograph. Two leafless trees on the side of the road in the dead of night. The scene is lit by the flash of a camera. Yellow text reads, "and i could have mourned myself

i'm so tired of dying and being reborn"

6. Text reading: What lived and died between us - haunts me still.

7. Text reading: Those hands that have ruined me. Here, bone ash. Left this body like a wound.

8. Text reading; you've been telling me you're leaving for so long, i don't believe it anymore.

just push you into bed & throw down the anchors.

light your cigarette like a ritual torch. where there is warmth, you won't wander.

i put my mouth over you. [highlight] i love you like skinning an animal: flesh to bone. flesh to bone. [end highlight]

9. Text reading: an emptiness, an evacuation of myself

/end ID]

I lost myself so long ago I don't even know how to start looking

on theater, hélène cixous // abandon me, melissa febos // i'm not angry anymore, paramore // @ojibwa // also @/ojibwa // the chronology of water, lydia yuknavitch // from the last motel before a decade's long purgatory, silas denver melvin ( @sweatermuppet ) // on theater, hélène cixous