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imaginespazzi · 2 months

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Part 4: Warning Bells

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10

I don't think I can do this again (do you remember it too?)

(In which a self-admittedly all over the place writer takes you on a bit of a rollercoaster)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Pining (the usuals)

Words: 6.1K

TW: Swearing, Mentions of Divorce

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Guess who made a deadline again? I'm as shocked as y'all are but I do wanna just warn y'all that August is gonna be really busy for me so as much as I'm gonna try to stick to schedule, there's a pretty good chance I won't. I really appreciate y'alls feedback with live-reacts/long reviews and it's truly the motivating factor behind my writing so pretty please keep sending them. I did edit (as usual) but please let me know the most likely existent typos anyway. As always, let me know what you liked, disliked and what you wanna see next. Have a lovely rest of your week my loves <3

March 2033

Here’s what Azzi has learned about motherhood: having kids means that there will come many times in your life, when you will look around you and wonder how the hell did I get here. It’s that thought that’s currently plaguing her as she finishes hanging up the WELCOME HOME banner on the living room wall in her ex-girlfriend’s new apartment. And when she’s talking about kids, she’s not talking about her five year old who’s currently sticking purple hearts on every surface she can find. No, she’s talking about her 6’5 teammate who she’d once “adopted” as a joke in college, but who’s basically become her surrogate child ever since they’d ended up on the same WNBA team.

It had started as a casual conversation when Jana, as she often did, had shown up for an impromptu lunch. The topic of Paige was hard to avoid considering it was Stephie’s favorite subject, heightened by the fact that Paige was coming back soon and Stephie was far too excited to finally have her Miss Buecks back. Jana was more than happy to indulge the little girl in conversation about what Paige had been like at UConn. And if Azzi had lost herself in those memories for a moment, transported back in time to a world that had once been blooming with promise before wilting in a darkness she’d created herself, well, she’d done an excellent job not letting it show on her face.

The real issue had started when Jana had casually let slip her idea of surprising Paige with a little welcome party. And as Stephie had started reciting all the different things they could do -because of course me and Mama will help you Aunty J, Azzi had glared at Jana, only to receive an innocent smile in return that told her everything she needed to know. She’d been set up.

That’s how, instead of spending her Saturday curled up on her comfortable couch with a book in her hands, Azzi is here instead and in true fashion, she’s the only one actually getting anything done. Jana, who had just left about twenty minutes ago to pick Paige up, had invited some of the other girls on the team to come help out yet, something about more hands on deck. Those supposed helpful hands had spent the last hour blowing up and popping balloons and getting nothing else done.

“I can’t believe y’all have me decorating for the woman who cost me my first national championship,” Joyce laments, “I still have nightmares from that game.”

“You gotta let that hurt go Aunty Joy,” Stephie says impishly, mimicking what Jana would normally say whenever the infamous 2025 South Carolina vs UConn national championship got brought up.

“Don’t sass me Miss Stephanie,” Joyce sticks out her tongue at the little girl, throwing a purple balloon at Stephie’s head, “hasn’t your Mama taught you that we don’t mock people’s pain.”

“Ignore her Steph,” Tessa says, bumping her former Gamecock teammate as she shares a devilish grin with Azzi’s daughter, “she’s just upset she only won one. Some of us have two.”

Joyce guffaws, throwing another balloon, this time aimed at Tessa, “dude we’re supposed to be on the same team. What would Coach Staley say to you teaming with UConn people of all things to bully me?”

“She’d thank me for making sure you didn’t get a big head,” Tessa snipes back.

Whatever response Joyce has to that quip is cut short by the doorbell ringing and Azzi feels her heartbeat quicken as Stephie lets out a squeal, dropping everything to go answer it. Things had been different since the facetime call almost two weeks ago. They’d accidentally on purpose settled into a routine where Stephie would call Paige at exactly 7 p.m. and Paige would answer on the first ring, promising to stay on the phone till the little girl fell asleep. And it would’ve been fine if that’s all it was. But then Paige started staying on the phone till after Stephie fell asleep and suddenly it was like they were back to their teenage selves, talking about everything and nothing, trying to learn every page of each other’s story all over again.

Azzi had missed so much about Paige in the last couple of years but there was nothing she’d missed more than just talking to her best friend. She’d missed the way Paige would tell a story, going off on a million tangents in between. She’d missed the way her eyes would light up when she got to a particularly exciting part of the story, specks of gold shimmering in the blue like sunlight hitting the ocean. She’d missed the way Paige’s hands would be flying animatedly all over the place, even when she was whispering. She’d missed the way the blonde would pause halfway through to observe if Azzi was still listening, making sure all of the attention was still on her. And she’d missed the way that when it was Azzi’s turn to speak, Paige would hang onto every word like it was gospel, intently listening like she’d never forgive herself if she couldn’t recite everything Azzi had just said from memory. She’d missed the way Paige would let her emotions freely flicker across her face, because whatever happened to Azzi, Paige felt it too.

She’d missed and missed, convinced the pain would be the end of her, until she’d tricked her mind into forgetting. And now Azzi’s beginning to realize that remembering it all again, might just be the thing that kills her.

“Nevermind,” Stephie walks back to the room, sulking slightly, “it’s just Aunty Liyah.”

“Oh thanks Stephie babe. That makes me feel so wonderful,” Aaliyah says, walking in behind Stephie with an offended expression on her face, “and here I thought bringing cupcakes would make me popular.”

“Tell me those are store-bought Chavez. I ain’t trusting them if you made them yourselves,” Joyce says, side-eyeing the cupcakes.

“Trust me I would never waste my precious time baking for y’all ungrateful ass-”

“Aaliyah,” Azzi shoots her younger teammate a sharp look.

“-ungrateful people,” Aaliyah corrects sheepishly, “cupcakes because y’all clearly don’t appreciate me.”

“I pre-ciate you Aunty Liyah,” Stephie says innocently, trying to get a better look at the aforementioned cupcakes, “you got the pu-ple ones right? They have to be pu-ple for Miss Buecks.”

Aaliyah bends down to Stephie’s level to show her the box of sweet treats “the perfect purple cupcakes for your Miss Buecks. How come you never wanna do nice things like this for us Stephie?”

“Because Miss Buecks is special,” Stephie retorts matter-of-factly.

“Oh so we’re not special?” Tessa asks, raising an eyebrow at Stephie.

“‘Course you are but Miss Buecks is special-er.”

And while her teammates all pretend to dramatically gasp at that, shaking their heads at Stephie, Azzi feels like someone’s squeezing her heart, twisting and twisting but never fully breaking it. She wonders if that might hurt less.

It’s another 10 minutes later when the doorbell rings again and Azzi watches her daughter’s face break into an incandescent grin, filled with hope, as she rushes to open the door because it has to be Paige this time. Azzi follows after her, trying to keep her breathing under control as anticipation clings to her nerves. Azzi’s gotten so spectacularly good at lying to herself that she tells herself this next one with ease: there’s not a single part of her that’s eager to see Paige again.

“SURPRISE,” Stephie screams, flinging the front door open with as much strength as she can muster. She doesn’t give Paige a chance to react before she’s throwing herself against the blonde’s legs, hugging her thighs.

It takes a second for Paige to register what’s happening, but when she does, it’s Azzi she’s looking at. Everything seems to move in slow motion as they stare at each other, the reality of the moment suddenly settling in. Paige is here. In Oakland. They’re going to be teammates; they’re going to see each other almost every day. Just like they used to. Except nothing is like it used to be and as that bitter truth comes up like bile in Azzi’s throat, she has to force herself to look away.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie calls out, tugging at the hem of Paige’s white shirt to get her attention, “do you like my surprise?”

Paige tears her eyes away from Azzi, leaning down to pick Stephie up before peppering her faces with kisses and making the younger girl squeal in delight, “best surprise ever.”

And Azzi really, really, can’t watch this. Not when it makes her want to walk over and cocoon herself in with the two of them, makes her want to pretend that she’s living in another life, one where she hadn’t thrown away the chance of a happily ever after with the girl she’d fallen in love with at fourteen,

“Oh yeah Stephie, your surprise. Take all the credit. Not like the rest of us did anything,” Joyce rolls her eyes goodnaturedly, before pulling Paige into a one-armed hug, “welcome to the Bay Area Bueckers.”

Tessa and Aaliyah are next, both sharing warm hugs with their new teammate. Once they’ve had their turn, all eyes seem to turn to Azzi expectantly and the brunette blanches under their gaze. Other than Jana, who suddenly seems pretty heavily interested in the doorframe, the rest of her teammates don’t know about her past with Paige. So it’s only natural they’d expect her to greet Paige with all the cordiality of an old friend.

“Y’all good?” Joyce asks slowly, looking between the two of them, “do you want me to introduce y’all or?”

“Shut up,” Azzi murmurs before drawing in a deep breath and stepping towards Paige. She tries not to fixate on the way Paige’s jaw flexes when the blonde swallows, tries not to think about all the patterns she’d once carved against that little patch of skin because she knew it drove Paige insane. The thing is Azzi can’t even really remember the last time they hugged beyond a for-the-cameras one at a game. But as she wraps her arms around Paige, the older woman’s breath tickling against her ear as she grips Azzi’s waist, it doesn’t feel that much different from how it used to be. Paige’s arms are still safe and strong and Azzi still wants to melt into them. But what’s different is that Stephie’s in between them now, tiny hands securely fastened around both of their necks. And Azzi almost, almost gives into the feeling of belonging as she whispers two simple words that mean just a little too much.

“Welcome home.”

***

Seven pairs of eyes watch as the movers move box after box after box into Paige’s apartment, until there’s more cardboard than floor visible. The three non-UConn girlies are wide-eyed as they watch the pile grow endlessly. Meanwhile Jana is laughing while Azzi tries to hide a smile behind her hands as the realization that she’d have to unpack all of her stuff hits Paige in waves, and her expression grows more and more somber. Once the movers are finally done, it’s Stephie, whose hand is still firmly clasped in Paige’s, who breaks the silence.

“You have a lot of things Miss Buecks,” the little girl crinkles her nose, as she points out the obvious, “do you really need all of this stuff.”

“Of course I do Stephie,” Paige says indignantly and Azzi scoffs, earning her a withering glare from the blond.

“Aight well it was nice to meet you-” Joyce starts, slowly backing away from the mess until Jana blocks her way.

“Oh no you don’t. I told y’all we were all gonna help her move in. Call it team bonding,” the Egyptian says, her voice vaguely threatening.

“Most of the team isn’t even here,” Aaliyah points out cautiously.

“That’s not the point,” Jana rebukes, “alright team listen up. Here’s how this is going to go-”

“Maybe Paige should take charge. It is her apartment,” Tessa says slowly.

“If we put Paige in charge she’ll tell us all to go home and procrastinate doing anything until after the season,” Azzi says, a knowing smirk playing on her lips.

Paige pouts, “hey! I’m not that bad.”

“Oh you absolutely are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“O-kay,” Jana claps, breaking apart the bickering, “it’s good to see the two of you are apparently younger than Stephie,” she holds up a hands a both Paige and Azzi start to splutter in their defense, “now as I was saying before being rudely interrupted. We’re gonna split this up. Joyce and I are gonna do the living room. Aaliyah and Tessa, y’all are gonna fix the guest room. Which leaves,” Jana smiles, and it’s only because Azzi knows her so well that she can read the menacing sparkle behind it, “Paige and Azzi to tackle the master bedroom.”

They both open their mouths to protest but are quick to get cut off by an excited Stephie, “I’mma help Mama and Miss Buecks!”

“Of course you are, why would you ever help anybody else? Clearly you don’t love us anymore. Not since your precious Miss Buecks got here,” Joyce says dramatically and while Paige smirks and the rest of the girls pretend to act mock offended, Azzi uses the distraction to sidle up to Jana.

“What the fuck are you playing at El-Alfy,” she hisses under hear breath.

Jana shrugs innocently, “the master bedroom is the hardest because Paige has so many fucking clothes so I’m letting y’all old heads do it. Some of us are below 30 ya know.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Azzi snaps.

“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about Fudd,” Jana says airily as she starts to unpack a box, leaving Azzi muttering curses under her breath.

“Hey-”

Azzi spins around at the soft voice, only to find herself crashing against a solid body. It’s instinct, the way Paige’s hands immediately reach out to steady her and it’s instinct, the way Azzi’s hands grab at the lapels of the blond’s shirt. Goosebumps trails up her skin as Paige's breath, hot and heavy, fans across her face. They’re too close; way too close and yet the idea of stepping away feels like a sin. Azzi gulps as her thumb accidentally brushes Paige’s collarbone and the other woman shivers under her touch. She thinks she could probably get drunk off the feeling of knowing that she can still affect Paige like that.

“You uh-” Paige swallows, fingers squeezing involuntarily against Azzi’s hip, “you don’t have to listen to Jana. I can- I can figure it out myself.”

“N-no,” Azzi stutters and she wonders if Paige feels a high from the way she still affects Azzi too, “there’s um- you have- uh- you have a lot of stuff. I can-,” she sucks in a deep breath, “I’ll help.”

“You sure?” there’s a vulnerable edge to Paige’s tone and any resolve Azzi could ever have melts immediately.

“I want to help,” she says softly, letting a small smile slip onto her lips.

The smile she gets in return is bright and sparkling, just like Paige herself and Azzi’s heart lurches, pleased to be the one receiving it, pleased to be the one who’d elicited it, “Good, cause I really wanted your help.”

Azzi shakes her head, trying to ignore the warning bells blazing in her head at the fact that they’re still holding each other, “why’d you pretend you didn’t?”

“I just wanted to hear you say it first,” Paige says, biting at her bottom lip. It leaves a light mark and Azzi finds herself wanting to soothe it over with her own tongue.

She thinks it might have been easier if it was just a little harder to fall back into Paige. It shouldn’t be so simple to fall back into late night conversations, so simple to fall back into easy teasing, so simple to fall back into feeling at peace in Paige’s arms. But it is.

“Mama, Miss Buecks,” it’s Stephie who breaks their bubble but instead of jumping away from each other like they should, they step apart only enough to let the little girl into the space between them, so she can lace her hands through both of theirs, “are you ready?”

“Before you go Paige,” Tessa calls out, holding up a clear bag of corner guards and edge protectors, “what are we doing with these?”

Paige shuffles her feet nervously, “you um- you put them on the edge of like tables and stuff.”

“Bro but they’re for people who have children?” Joyce says, giving Paige a weird look, “you have a kid we don’t know about?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to Stephie for a brief second and Azzi freezes, a warm realization tickling up her spine. Butterflies erupt in her stomach, their wings fluttering to the beat of what’s mine could have been ours.

“Of course not. I’m just super clumsy so precautions and all that,” the blond explains, shooting Jana a glare when the taller woman barely masks a giggle, “quit procrastinating by asking all these questions and get to work.”

“Has anyone ever told you the importance of first impressions? Because I’m telling you Bueckers, using your teammates as unpaid labor the first time you meet them is not it,” Aaliyah gives Paige a pointed look.

“This wasn’t even my idea in the first place,” Paige defends.

“True,” Tessa nods with a sickly sweet smile, “but you’re gonna pay for the pizza anyways.”

“I’m not pay-”

“PIZZA,” Stephie squeals, “Miss Buecks you’re gonna get us Pizza?”

“Yeah Miss Buecks,” Azzi smickers, crossing her arms as Paige’s stubborn retort dies on her lips, “you gonna get us pizza?”

Paige glares at her before she’s swinging Stephie up onto her lap again. And she really needs to stop doing things like that because it’s not remotely good for Azzi’s mental health to watch the way Stephie seems to fit perfectly in Paige’s arms, “of course I am Steph, what do you want?”

The two of them are lost in their own world discussing pizza toppings as Paige starts walking over to the master bedroom, until suddenly they're both turning around, looking at Azzi with identical expressions. And the brunette feels her heart tap out this could be my everything against her ribcage.

“You coming Azzi?”

“Mama, are you coming?”

I’d go anywhere with the two of you, Azzi thinks as she nods her head, a light skip in her step as she moves to catch up with the two of them.

“Of course I’m coming.”

***

Less than 10 minutes into trying to unpack, Azzi realizes that she’s the only one trying to unpack anything when she looks up from where she’s been folding t-shirts -trying and failing at not breathing in their familiar scent- to find Stephie decked in a colorful cardigan that goes all the way down to her toes, her feet clad in a pair of PB4’s that must be three times the size of her own shoes. A pair of Louis Vuitton sunglasses hide almost her entire face as she strikes pose after pose and Paige diligently takes pictures of her.

“YES Stephie,” the blond indulges, “work it girl. There you go babe, hold that pose for me. You’re a natural in front of the camera.”

Stephie giggles and Azzi feels her heart constrict. Her favorite sound in the whole world has never sounded more like a signal for danger.

“Ahem ahem,” she coughs, narrowing her eyes at the two people in front of her, “doesn’t look like y’all are unpacking to me.”

“Mama Miss Buecks has so many pretty clothes,” Stephie gushes, completely ignoring what her mother just said.

“They’d look even prettier folded in her closet,” Azzi says pointedly.

Stephie pouts, “you don’t think I look pretty?”

“You look really pretty in my clothes Stephie,” Paige cuts in, tapping the little girl on the nose before she turns her gaze towards Azzi, “just like your Mama used to.”

The silk material shirt slips out of Azzi’s hand as Paige’s words drizzle around her, like the rain after a drought. It takes every little bit of strength she can muster to force herself to ignore Paige’s words and pick up another shirt to fold even if she can’t stop the rouge tint that colors her face. There’s this part of her that’s been dormant for years but every little interaction with Paige threatens to awaken it and Azzi’s scared that if she lets that happen, she’ll never be able to put it to sleep again.

“Just- just focus on unpacking,” Azzi mutters darkly.

She spends the next hour or so, keeping her eyes downcast, her complete focus on the task at hand. Because if she looks up, if she lets herself see the way Stephie and Paige are folding clothes together while giggling about something, if she lets herself see the way Stephie climbs onto Paige’s back so the woman can give her a piggyback to the closet to deposit the folded clothes, she thinks she could fall in love with this moment, capture it behind her eyelids and let it live there forever. But this moment doesn’t belong to Azzi. Because Paige doesn’t belong to Azzi. Not anymore.

Azzi’s taken away from her thoughts when she feels a tiny hand wrapping around her neck from behind, Stephie’s warm body pressing against her back and just like that, all the tension in her muscles seem to dissipate.

“What’s up sweetheart,” she asks, turning her head to press her lips against her daughter’s temple.

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says sweetly, “just wanted to give you a hug.”

“Sure you’re not just trying to get out of helping Miss Buecks unpack?” Azzi asks slyly, pulling Stephie from behind her, so the little girl’s lying on her lap instead. She can feel Paige’s eyes focused on the two of them and even without looking, she thinks she knows what she’d find in them if she did.

“Of course not Mama,” Stephie grins and then squeals as Azzi begins to tickle her.

“I think you are,” Azzi sings-songs as she continues to poke at her daughter’s stomach, reveling in the way it makes the child laugh.

“N-no Mama stop, stop,” Stephie manages to wrench herself out from Azzi’s grip, darting to hide behind Paige’s legs, “Miss Buecks save me.”

“There’s no saving you now Stephie-bear,” Azzi roars dramatically as she picks herself off the floor, smirking at her daughter as she wriggles her fingers menacingly.

“You know what the best way to stop someone from tickling you is Stephie?” Paige says slowly, sending the little girl a conspiratorial wink.

“Don’t you dare-”

“You tickle them back,” Paige yells and Stephie eyes widen with excitement, “did you know your Mama’s extremely ticklish?”

“Paige no,” Azzi starts moving back, hands held in surrender.

“You started it.”

“Yeah Mama, you started it.”

“Paige. Stephie. Ple-” Azzi cuts herself off with squeal as two sets of hands start mercilessly prodding at her ribcage. She can’t get away, not when Paige has her securely wrapped from the back and Stephie’s pressed against her front, both of them laughing maniacally. They’re a mess of limbs that’s becoming harder and harder to tell apart as the three of them topple onto Paige’s bed. And Azzi thinks maybe she doesn’t want to escape it at all. She thinks she’d like to freeze them in this moment instead. Forever.

“Pizza’s here,” someone yells from the living room and it’s Stephie who stops first, immediately jumping off the bed at the mention of food, leaving Paige and Azzi alone. On Paige’s bed. Barely an inch of distance between them as they try to catch their breath. It’s Azzi who sits up first, smoothening the wrinkles on her shirt. And just as she’s about to stand up fully, she feels a hand circling around her wrist.

“It’s gonna be weird being alone tonight,” Paige confesses softly and Azzi feels her breath hitch.

“Didn’t you live alone in Dallas? At least after the divorce?” she tries to keep the bitterness out of her voice at the last word, a bitterness she knows she has absolutely no right to feel.

Paige shrugs, her shoulders brushing against Azzi’s, “I did but I knew Dallas. I don’t know this place.”

“What exactly are you asking me?” Azzi asks even though she knows.

“I’m not asking you anything. I don’t know if I have that right anymore” Paige says softly, letting go of Azzi’s wrist as she starts to walk towards the living room, turning her head back slightly once she gets to the door, “I’m just telling you I don’t wanna be alone tonight.”

***

Damn Paige Bueckers and her vulnerable eyes and her earnest tone because Azzi would, really, really like to be enjoying her slice of pizza right now. Instead everything tastes like ashes as Paige’s unsaid plea rings in her head. There are so many reasons why Azzi absolutely shouldn’t give in, why she should grab Stephie, get into her car, drive home and never look back. This involuntary dance the two of them are starting is far too familiar to what they’d done when they were teenagers and the vivid memories of the day the music stopped and they’re feet stopped moving still haunt Azzi every time she lets herself think of it for a little too long. And she shouldn’t push herself into this fire again, not when there’s Stephie to think about, but there’s a tiny little problem. She thinks she might be addicted to burning in Paige’s flames.

So when the pizza’s done and the house is more or less in order, and her teammates are ready to leave, looking expectantly at Azzi, she finds herself leaping into lava, “um- I think Stephie and I are gonna stay for a little bit longer.”

“We are?” Stephie asks, a huge smile stretching the length of her face as she looks up at her mother.

“Yeah. Um- Paige’s bedroom still um- still needs some work,” Azzi tries to justify her decision, ignoring the heat of the blond’s eyes that seem to be perpetually stuck staring at her.

Joyce raises a perplexed eyebrow, “it looked done to me.”

Paige clears her throat, “there’s definitely uh- a couple more things that need to be handled.”

“It’s almost Stephie’s bedtime. I could stay and help-” Jana begins, eyeing the two of them suspiciously.

“No,” Paige says, a little louder than necessary, “I mean you’ve already done so much for me today Jana,” she manages a smirk, “let Azzi pull her weight a little bit too ya know.”

Janna narrows her eyes but doesn’t push it. It’s oddly domestic, standing side by side with Paige bidding goodbye to their teammates, Stephie in between them happily waving at the people that are leaving. The warning bells get louder and louder; Azzi continues to do nothing to stop them.

“Mama, how long are we staying?” Stephie asks innocently.

“We um-” Azzi chews at her lip, finally giving into the temptation to look at Paige, “we’re gonna stay with Miss Buecks tonight so she doesn’t feel alone.”

The shrill scream that escapes Stephie’s mouth could probably break glass as she turns herself around to grab at Paige’s waist, “Miss Buecks I’m gonna stay with you! We’re gonna have a sleep-over.”

Paige laughs, kneeling down so she’s face to face with the little girl, “yeah we are.”

“Are you scared to sleep alone too Miss Buecks?” Stephie asks cautiously, cupping Paige’s face with tiny hands.

“Just a little bit,” Paige admits, leaning into Stephie’s touch.

“Me too,” Stephie whispers shyly, “that’s why I sneak into Mama's bed and she gives me lots and lots and lots of cuddles. Mama’s cuddles are the best,” she turns to Azzi, “Mama will you give Miss Buecks cuddles tonight too?”

“I uh-” Azzi swallows, taken aback by the question, “I thought you didn’t like sharing Mama’s cuddles?”

“I don’t,” Stephie agrees, “but I’d be okay sharing them with Miss Buecks.”

***

Azzi had planned -a loose term because really she hadn’t planned on any of this- for her and Stephie to take the guest room. Paige had been ready to give up her own room on the grounds of politeness. And Stephie was insistent that she needed to sleep in between both Mama and Miss Buecks tonight because it’s a sleepover we all have to stay together. Obviously out of the three of them, only one of them was going their way and it didn’t take a genius to figure out who that would be. That’s how they’d ended up here, dragging chairs and pillows and blankets into the middle of the living room to create a makeshift fort.

Azzi’s putting on the finishing touches, stringing purple fairy lights Paige had produced out of nowhere, when Stephie emerges from Paige’s bedroom where she’d gone looking for something to wear in lieu of pajamas.

“Mama look what I found,” Stephie beams, proudly pointing at the black t-shirt she’s found that covers her whole body, “it’s you and Miss Buecks when you were littler.”

It’s their SLAM cover t-shirt and Azzi feels tears prickling at her waterline as she’s met with the picture of a younger version of the two of them. Back when they’d been so hopeful and carefree, ready to take on the world as long as they could do it together. Back when they’d been 2 in a million.

“I can’t believe you still have this,” Azzi whispers, unable to stop herself from running her fingers across the version of who they used to be. She wonders what those girls would think of them now; those girls who’d laid and bed and pinky promised forever. She thinks they’d probably be appalled at the fact that Paige and Azzi had spent eight years barely speaking. She thinks maybe they’d hate her for what she’d done. She thinks maybe she hates herself a little bit for what she’s done to them.

Paige is leaning against the wall, her voice quiet when she speaks, “I couldn’t let it go.”

And they both know she’s not talking about the shirt.

“Can we watch a movie?” Stephie asks, diving into the fort and peering up at the two adults.

Paige recovers first, “yeah- yeah of course Steph,” she looks at Azzi, “do you- do you want something else to sleep in?”

“I’m good,” Azzi says, trying to inconspicuously brush away a rebellious tear. The shirt she’s wearing feels itchy against her skin but she doesn’t think she could handle wearing something of Paige’s. She scooches into the fort, leaning back against one of the pillows and Stephie’s quick to curl into her and Azzi absentmindedly rubs her hands down her daughter’s back. Paige switches on the TV, letting Stephie dictate a movie choice before letting herself into the fort, laying down on Stephie’s other side.

“Miss Buecks come cuddle,” Stephie demands from where her head is laying on Azzi’s chest. When Paige hesitates, the younger girl takes it upon herself to pull Paige’s arms over her, making the older woman lie on her side so she can drape her hands over Stephie's stomach, accidentally brushing against Azzi’s ribcage. Stephie lets out a satisfied sigh, lying back down against Azzi, crossing her arms so she can hold Paige’s hand with one and latch onto her mother with the other.

“Perfect.”

And it is. The sound of Stephie’s chatter slowly fading away mixed with Paige’s quiet breathing is the perfect lullaby and Azzi finds herself drifting off into the best sleep she’s had in years.

***

Sunlight peeks in through the window and Azzi groans at the interruption. Her whole body feels a little stiff, not used to sleeping on the floor like this. A quick glance at her phone tells her it’s 7 a.m. and Azzi’s just about to let herself fall back asleep when her eyes land on the two sleeping figures next to her. Stephie’s face is buried in Paige’s neck, one arm slung over her waist. Paige, mouth slightly ajar as she sleeps, has both hands fastened on the younger, holding her tightly against her chest like she’d fight the world if someone tried to steal her from her grip. They look happy, content, at peace. And Azzi can’t breathe.

The warning bells in her head create a cacophonous commotion that she can no longer escape. It hits her like whiplash that she can’t do this. She doesn’t know what had gotten into her last night, why she’d agreed to this, to any of this. But she can’t do this.

“Stephie,” Azzi whispers urgently, trying to pull her daughter out of Paige’s grasp, “Stephie wake up.”

“Az?” Paige asks groggily, stirring in her sleep, “what’s going on?”

“We need to go home,” Azzi says and she can’t bear to look at Paige.

“What?” Paige is far more awake now as she glances at her phone, “it’s 7 am Azzi. What’s the rush?"

Azzi ignores her, still trying to wake Stephie up who groans, “Mama too early.”

“Steph-”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice is firm as she wraps her hand around Azzi’s wrist, slipping Stephie off of her, “what is going on.”

Azzi grits her teeth, “nothing’s going on. We just need to go home.”

“Azzi-”

“We shouldn’t have stayed last night Paige,” Azzi bursts out and Paige freezes.

“Come out of the fort Azzi,” the blond says, her voice eerily calm as she stands up. Azzi follows after her, heart beating rapidly against her chest as she tries to keep the tears at bay.

“We need to go home,” the brunette repeats, struggling to breathe, “this was a mistake,” Paige flinches and Azzi feels a knife turn in her own hurt, “we can’t do this.”

“Do what Azzi?” Paige asks exasperatedly, still trying to keep her voice low for Stephie’s sake.

“This,” Azzi all but shrieks, throwing her hands up, “it’s too much, too quick and Stephie- Stephie’s getting attached and I can’t- I can’t let that happen.”

“Why not?” Paige argues stubbornly.

“Because these last two weeks she couldn’t fall asleep without you on the phone. Because you’re all she talks about sometimes. Because she’s gonna want you forever,” Azzi’s voice breaks, “and she can’t have you forever.”

“Az-”

“And you’re getting attached too. I see the way you look at her and it’s amazing but it’s not- it’s not sustainable Paige. For either of you. Because you’re gonna find someone soon,” the words taste sour on Azzi’s tongue, “and you’re not gonna have time for her and missing you is going to kill her and the guilt of that is going to hurt you. I’m trying to pro-”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Paige’s voice is hard now, eyes gleaming with fire, “you’re basing all of this on a hypothetical that might not even come true. You’re not protecting anybody. You’re projecting.”

Azzi reels back, “I am not projecting.”

“Yes you are,” Paige hisses, “you’re not scared of Stephie or me getting too attached. You’re scared of yourself getting too attached.”

“Mama? Miss Buecks,” Stephie’s tired eyes look warily between the two of them, “what’s going on?”

Azzi plasters a smile on her face as she picks up her little girl, trying to pretend that the truth in Paige’s words haven’t just made her feel hollow, “we’re going home Stephie.”

“I don’t wanna go home,” Stephie fights against Azzi’s grip, looking helplessly at Paige, “Miss Buecks I wanna stay. Can I please stay?”

“You have to listen to your Mama sweetheart” Paige says softly, heartbreak written over her face as she moves to press a kiss against Stephie’s knuckles, “but I’ll see you soon okay. I promise.”

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie whimpers and Azzi has never hated herself more as she rushes out of Paige’s new house, willing herself to not look back. She buckles Stephie in the back, pretending she doesn’t see the way Paige is watching them leave from the porch, like she’d do anything to stop it. And then she drives away.

It isn’t until she’s safely in the confines over her own room, that Azzi finally lets the tears fall. And she consoles herself with the fact that it’s okay to crack her daughter's heart, to crack Paige’s heart, to crack her own heart, if that’s the only way she can stop their hearts from breaking altogether.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

332 notes · View notes

yoonieper · 27 days

Text

For the Birds— Part 5 | JJK

I want you to stay even though you don’t want me.

♡ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (feat. Yuri)

♡ Genre: angst, smut, future fluff!, this chapter is pretty much pWITHp (can be read alone)~

♡ Rated: T for Tension

♡ Series Warnings: Lots of smut (not always healthy), cheating, discussions of depression, this series includes Jk in a pretty toxic environment, degradation (not the sexy kind), manipulation, and overall Jk being in an emotionally abusive situation!

♡ Chapter Warnings: spicyyyy, Jk is a bit of a dick, Y/n stands up for herself, major tension, emotions are flowing, slightly subby Jungkook makes a bit of an appearance, thigh riding (m ;D), masturbation (f), public(ish) sex, hand job, protected sex (be smart friends <3)

♡ Word Count: 17.5k

♡ Summary: As the son of the CEO at Golden Tech, a marriage was arranged in the name of business. Jungkook really tried to make the most of his situation and be the best husband he could be, but no matter how much he tried, his wife just doesn’t seem to want him. Then you… you came into his life and his eyes couldn’t help but wander.

♡ Now Playing: Somebody Else by Maxine Ashley— see masterlist for playlist!

♡ Beta: Thank you so much to @mellowladyanchor for reading this part for me! If you’re interested in betaing a future part, dm me! If you're interested in becoming a permanent beta for this series please first click here and refer to 'details about the job' section for more details and dm for any questions you might have! Betas get early access to chapters, so if you're free to help out and can't wait for next chapter, consider joining the team!!!

♡ Author’s Note: Sorry for the delay friends! The end of last month was a bit hectic for me and then I got sick delaying me even more :') This might happen a lot more often where the schedule I have on the masterlist might diverge from when I can actually get the chapter out because college has started for me once again, so things in my life might get in the way a little more often of editing and ultimately publishing 😭 Thank you all so much for waiting, your patience, and I hope you all enjoy this different type of chapter :D Anyway, this is The Office Sexcapades Part 1 ;)

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

previous chapter « main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » coming 9/15

After you and Jungkook parted ways, you thought things had finally changed between you two. Maybe not entirely, but you wanted to believe you had turned over a new leaf in your relationship. You thought you had extinguished, or at least simmered, the animosity you felt for each other and something strange but new had started to take its place. You honestly didn’t mind it.

You had left the storage room with a dopey smile plastered on your face and a weird pep in your step as you made your way back to your desk. The man you hated only a month ago had managed to send you to another dimension and you still hadn’t come back yet. You felt high in the best way possible and there was some part of you that didn’t want to leave his side when you both agreed you probably had been gone too long. You even gave him a hug before you left the room, Jungkook mumbling a sweet “thank you” into your hair before you pulled away to leave.

It was all still a bit weird, but you wanted to think that this was all the confirmation you needed that things had truly changed between you two. Was it complicated? Yes, this shift was the result of an affair, which wasn’t a solid foundation whatsoever, but the change in your relationship wasn’t entirely bad. At least you didn’t hate each other anymore.

However, you were in for a shock when you came into work on Monday.

THUNK

The first thing you were greeted with was Director Son being back (yay!). However, before you could even process his return, he was setting a mountain of paperwork on your desk. The size of the stack was far beyond a reasonable workload. It was so tall, even your coworkers could easily see it through the window of your office without needing to crane their necks over their computer screens.

After you paid your respects and welcomed Director Son back, you finally asked what the pile of paperwork on your desk was all about because it just had to be a joke or a prank. You were ready for someone to jump out with a phone in hand laughing hysterically at the face you made that was now recorded for everyone to see.

“Beats me, I just got back today. All I know is that it comes straight from Director Jeon,” he had sighed in sympathy. You scanned the faces of the rest of the team who were standing outside your office. No one was stifling a laugh, trying their absolute hardest to make this as believable as possible. Instead, they sent you worried glances and sympathetic looks as they quietly gasped at the outrageous amount of paperwork.

When Taehyung arrived at the office, he came up to you during the chaos of it all. “Woah? What did you do to piss him off this time?” He chuckled lightly, but you could hear the undertone of concern.

For a second, you tried to rack your brain to see if you could remember if Jungkook had mentioned he would be sending you a lot of work on Monday, anything he said that could have possibly rationalized this. You came up with nothing.

The details from Friday had been ingrained into your memory at the highest definition. You were practically still experiencing it first hand— every sight, sound, touch, and taste from that day. The chance of you forgetting him telling you about a workload of this magnitude was next to none. The moments you spent with him especially were vibrant; the clarity was irrefutably against the possibility of it simply having slipped your mind. At no point on Friday had he mentioned anything to you about work, or even sent you a text over the weekend to let you know what you’d find on your desk on Monday. He’d completely blindsided you.

Knowing Jeon Jungkook, there was only one reason he would assign you this much work without warning. Mr. Jeon Jungkook, Head Director Jeon, Director Jeon, or what he had urged you to call him so casually, Jungkook, was pissed off, and there was no doubt in your mind that his anger was directed at you.

As Taehyung waited for your answer, you had to stop yourself from instantly bursting into tears. It was not just because you knew you would be stuck at the office all night because of how much work you had to do, but also because after everything you shared together, he was suddenly being a dick to you… again?

Why? What could you have possibly done to him to make him hate you again with so much vigor that he would assign you this mountain of paperwork in the middle of the chaos of Q4? Had Friday meant nothing after all? Were you just another hole he used to take out his sexual frustration from his marriage? Had those sad, round, sweet eyes and pleas been nothing but a lure to get you to agree to the affair? In any normal situation, you would have never gone along with it in a billion years. Maybe he had seen right through your guise and did whatever was necessary to get his dick wet. Maybe he was through with you, the allure was gone, the fantasy was broken, and he wanted nothing more than to punish you for your stupidity and believing his silly act. Or maybe it wasn’t so complicated. Maybe it was simply your fault for thinking things had changed between you two.

You had to resist marching straight to his office to give him a piece of your mind, but you didn’t have the energy, time, or desire to create a scene. Instead, you took a few deep breaths, headed to the bathroom to quickly dry your watery eyes, and marched out ready to tackle the workload.

It took you all night and well into the early morning hours to get everything done. It was tedious, detailed, and you knew Jungkook purposely gave it to you in paper form to make it that much more challenging to complete. In your peripheral vision throughout the night, you saw your coworkers say their goodbyes before leaving for their lives outside the office. You even saw Jungkook himself, normally someone who stayed far beyond a reasonable time, pass by and head down the hall to the elevators before you were even halfway done.

The office had turned dark and your eyes were strained from staring at your computer screen and the tiny font on the papers for far too long, but you saw him. You heard the sound of his fancy dress shoes clicking against the tile first, and even though you tried not to look up, you noticed him pass by through the window. You heard his pace slow down, probably just wanting to see you and relish in your suffering. You felt his eyes linger on your form, but you didn’t dare make eye contact. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. You kept your eyes on your work as his footsteps faded into the distance. You truly felt done with him.

Over the next few days, Jungkook would hardly look at you during the rare occasions you’d be near each other. It wasn’t like you had grown close anyway, but whenever you were in the same room you’d normally make a little small talk to ease the tension. But now Jungkook wouldn’t even spare a glance in your direction. He was avoiding you like the plague, so you did the same.

Also, even though it wasn’t as much as Monday, Jungkook kept choosing to be a dick to you and personally assigned you more work than reasonable every day. You had no time to confront him, but you didn’t want to anyway. For whatever reason, he wanted to be mean and avoid you instead of having some type of adult conversation. You couldn’t deal with people like that. It made it easy to want nothing more than to forget Jeon Jungkook even existed.

Maybe you really had been fooled. Jungkook had played you for the sap you were and manipulated you into sleeping with him. But as angry as you were, you couldn't find yourself able to believe that. Even though you were avoiding him, you still paid close attention anytime you were in the same room. The dark cloud continuously storming over him that you had noticed before raged with even more ferocity, still following him around no matter where he was or who he was with. The blank look behind his eyes grew worse with each day that passed. You were honestly confused how no one else had noticed.

Things hadn’t changed. If anything, they might have only gotten worse than before. You tried your best to restrain your emotions instead of immediately believing the first theory your mind conjured up. Maybe you just wanted to believe that he hadn’t used you, but you truly wanted to hope there had been more to Jungkook’s vulnerability than just a front he used to get to you.

It took a while, but eventually you settled on the most likely outcome and assumed that he was taking whatever feelings he had about the affair out on you for some reason. You had no idea why you had to suffer for a choice he made twice despite your warnings, but it just proved to you that at the end of the day, he really was a dick.

Whatever the reason, you really just didn’t want to deal with him anymore. What happened happened. It was in the past, you couldn’t take it back now, and he had to realize that. You didn’t mind pretending nothing happened because right now you just wanted to forget it all— forget Jeon Jungkook, forget last week, and honestly, fuck him.

•────•──────────•────•

Jungkook was a horrible person. The certainty of that truth became painfully obvious as the days passed. He knew how he was treating you wasn’t right, yet he was still awful to you anyway. He just couldn’t be any more pathetic.

Ironically, Jungkook wasn’t even mad at you. Far from it actually— he wanted you so much that it was the very thought of you that pissed him off far beyond a concerning degree. He made an executive decision that despite what he said to you in his office, he needed to listen to his conscience and stop the affair before things got worse. How was he ever going to make things right with Yuri if he was sleeping with you? It didn’t make any sense and he knew that. He knew he needed to end this here and now. After you left, Jungkook had sat in the darkness of the storage room crying over the thought that he was making things worse for him and Yuri and he was a terrible husband. But despite everything, he still couldn’t bring himself to regret doing it. He was just awful, horrible, and truly pathetic.

Jungkook was so eager to fix things with Yuri, but when has an affair ever been the answer or led to anything good? How was he ever going to repair their relationship if he was spending his time fucking you on the side? He would just look like the biggest hypocrite of the century.

Jungkook didn’t hate you per se, but he hated the failure that you represented. It was cruel, he was cruel, after everything you did for him, to repay you with an unreasonable amount of work in an already busy time. It just wasn’t fair to you. You probably hated him now. And he almost wanted that to be true. It was just another way to ensure he would stay away from you and get back to what should be his priority: the marriage he was fucking up.

Jungkook had hoped it would be easy to move on if he kept you away. The stars even aligned to allow him the opportunity to focus on his wife and put the affair in the past. Yuri had come home early one evening when Jungkook had happened to be home as well. They talked and even shared a meal by candlelight together that their chef had prepared. Sure, things were a little awkward and they only really spoke about work. Anytime Jungkook tried to bring up another topic, Yuri seemed disinterested. However, they did briefly discuss the upcoming annual holiday celebration that their families always held together and shared which of their favorite dishes they were looking forward to having, which was nice.

It was good, though. At the very least, she was tolerating his presence, and that was better than the disdain she usually had in her eyes whenever she looked at him.

Jungkook went to bed in better spirits than he had been over the past few days. He was able to easily fall asleep, though he would have preferred doing so with Yuri in his arms. He knew not to try it and ruin their good evening. He slept through the night and would have likely missed his alarm if Yuri hadn’t woken him up. His tired eyes strained to see her straddled over his lap. The sun had barely come up, but he could see the look in her eyes as she stared down at him. It made him hot in an instant.

“Touch me.” She had whispered right in his ear. It was a command, one that ignited a flame all too quickly. He felt wanted, maybe even needed, as he hastily flipped her onto her back while he began eating her out.

He was truly a horrible person. The whole time he pleasured Yuri, all he could think about was you in the storage room. The way you gripped his hair and all the pretty sounds you made with each swipe of his tongue. He missed you…

But Yuri was also so pretty, she always was, and when he finally brought her over the edge, his cock pleaded for her in his shorts. It had been so long, but he knew better than to push it. And he was right as always. The minute he got off her, she went to shower and he left him stuck alone in their room.

He missed the way you pulled him close after you finished. How you reached into his pants, touched him, and pleaded for more. He missed how you felt around him, how you held him in your arms while he cried. He really missed you. Jungkook had to fight every urge in his body to stop himself from reaching into his shorts for relief.

He wanted to be good for Yuri. He had to be. He kept telling himself that, but like the hypocrite he was, he finally went to the store to pick up condoms on his way to work. It wasn’t because he was preparing for when Yuri would let him go all the way, no, they were for you. He put them in one of his drawers in his desk, hidden underneath some papers, but not too out of reach in case of emergency. You probably didn’t want anything to do with him anymore, but he got the condoms anyway.

As much as Jungkook had tried to push you away, he never stopped wanting you. Each time you’d pass each other, which was rare because he made sure to avoid you, you grabbed his attention. He thought his feelings would pass, but as the days went by, they only got more intense. His body ached to have you all over again, and as much as he wanted to tough it out, wait for Yuri, and hopefully put the affair behind him, he was weak. So weak, that despite all of his intentions, he texted you to meet him at the storage room again with the emoji you had both discussed beforehand.

Jungkook [1:32pm]: 📦 3:15

He’d been shy about it. He spent days fighting between his urge to text you and to also resist the temptation and focus on Yuri. Like she always said though, he was weak, and ultimately caved despite his efforts.

He worried he would come off as needy and desperate, especially because of how he’d treated you, but it wasn’t far from the truth. What if he was texting too soon? What was too soon? You probably hated him, what was he thinking?!

He didn’t think you’d show up. Part of him didn’t want you to, hoping his efforts had paid off and you were done with him. But the other half of him was relieved when he heard your two knocks followed by another two knocks.

A wave of guilt hit him the minute he opened the door and saw you looked less than pleased to see him. He knew he deserved it. He deserved you never even looking in his direction again, but somehow here you were. You hadn’t deserved any of his anger. Your presence both infuriated him and calmed his spiked nerves. It wasn’t fair to you. He was cruel.

“What?” You barked. You were mad. You had every right to be.

Jungkook felt the tears start welling up in his eyes at his conflicted emotions. He felt bad, despite his resentment of you. He truly felt bad because he knew you didn’t deserve his anger. It was he who begged to have you again despite all his concerns. This situation you both found yourself in now was all his fault.

“Did you just bring me here to give me more work? I don’t have much time thanks to you.” You were angry, but he could still hear the hurt in your voice. He hurt you. He couldn’t stop hurting anyone who got near him…

Jungkook just stared at you with an almost dazed expression. He seemed out of it, even more so than normal. Maybe any other day you would have actually been concerned, but you didn’t want to see him, not now, or really ever again. You just came because apparently he was finally willing to speak to you again, so you thought it would be the perfect time to end whatever was happening between you two. Not that anything really even had begun in the first place. It should have ended after the first time. It should have never even started. This was a huge mistake that you knew would follow you for the rest of your lifetime.

He didn’t say anything back, just continued to stare at you. You couldn’t see him very well, but you were getting tired of his silence. Part of you thought agreeing to his request to meet would give you some concrete answers as to why he might be upset at you. What could you have possibly done to make him so mad when you hadn’t spoken since the last time you were in this room together? It seemed all he wanted to do was stare at you in confusion, and you really didn’t have time for that.

“Director Jeo— Jungkook, look, I don’t really want to be around you, so if you don’t have anything to say then—” You were ready to turn around, leave, and be done with this situation, done with him, but of course just as you were reaching for the door, you felt a hand on your wrist stopping you in your tracks.

“Don’t— Don’t you see how hard I’m trying to do that?!” His voice was shaky, but you could still hear the agitation. You finally turned around and at this angle you could see the shininess in his eyes.

Jungkook suddenly had your back against the wall, his arms by your side, effectively caging you in. However, he maintained enough distance between you two to stop short of being intimidating. If you wanted to, you could easily push past him.

“I’m trying to keep you as far away as possible, but you’re making it so—,” he buried his head in your shoulder, “—so fucking hard.” There was a bite to his words, an edge that told you he really was angry with you.

Fuck him.

“I want to be a good husband— I want to be good to my wife. I don’t want to betray her any more than I already have, but—” One of his hands came down to settle on your waist. So softly, he was always so gentle. You hated the way your body tingled at his touch.

“You’re making this so hard—” It felt wrong, but having you in front of him felt right all at the same time. He needed you, painfully so.

“Look at me.” Your words were harsh as you roughly grabbed his hair and pulled him off of your shoulder. Jungkook was certainly not prepared for your aggression, and how it embarrassingly went straight to his achy length. His cheeks burned as he stared down at you.

“I get you have shit going on, but what you’re not going to do is have the issues in your life interfere with my career. You’re making my life hell, and do you know how that makes me look in front of my team?” You finally released all the pent-up rage you’ve felt through the years working for him and you enjoyed the shocked look on his face as he processed your words. He needed to hear them.

“And you have the nerve to call me back in here after the bullshit you’ve put me through? You made me think things had changed, but you’re still just as petty as you’ve always been. You’re actually ridiculous.” Your anger was justified, so justified that Jungkook was tempted to just break down and cry. You were right and even worse, it was pathetic how he started to feel the strain of his pants growing tighter at the same time. Just a sad, sad human being.

Your hand then rose, and Jungkook watched as you sadistically toyed with the collar of his shirt before running your fingers down the line of his buttons, playing and pulling them lightly. Your finger finally made it to where he had his shirt tucked into his pants, then to his belt buckle, and then you suddenly cupped his growing bulge.

“Fuck!” He was way too loud, but he truly wasn’t expecting that. Tears immediately fell from his eyes, a chaotic storm of emotions swirled around in his head. He felt guilty, he was also frustrated, but more than anything, he just wanted you to touch him. As embarrassing and shameful as it was, he rocked into your hand, wanting more friction so badly. Your grip tightened, squeezing him so he felt your anger in the most pleasurable sense possible, along with the pain he more than deserved.

“I’m sorry!” he cried, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“Don’t apologize. You know you meant what you did. If you want this to continue, you’re not going to pull that shit and try and act like nothing happened. You’re the one who begged for my help. If you’re done with this, just fucking say it. Got it?” you spat. Gone was the unconditional sweetness you’d shown him until this point despite how horribly he had treated you over the years. He had almost thought it wasn’t possible to make you mad, how it was the only way you tolerated him at all, but that clearly wasn’t the case. He fucked up and he took in every word you spat at him.

Jungkook hurriedly nodded.

“As for this…” You squeezed him once again, making Jungkook silently cry out. He wasn’t sure if it was out of pleasure or pain at this point. “If you want to get off so badly, you’re going to have to work for it.” You eventually said, moving your hand away, making Jungkook whine at the loss of contact.

You then propped your leg up against the wall and pulled him a little closer by his waist so he was gliding right across your thigh. Jungkook moaned at the sensation and pushed you further into the wall. He was embarrassed how easily you riled him up and his cheeks burned at the intimate position. What were you doing?

“Y/n…” he groaned, confused as to what this was, but you were quick to guide him. Your hands returned to his waist and you pulled him forward before pushing him back and bringing him closer again.

Oh.

It was an odd position, but one you quickly figured out he didn’t hate. You wished you could see his expression better, but the darkness didn’t hide everything. With your hands as a guide, you pushed and pulled him in a steady rhythm. His rugged breathing grew more labored and the whines he tried his best to suppress grew more pained and filled with need.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” you chuckled darkly.

“What are you doing— oh!” he hurried out, but was cut off by a groan as you started to speed up the pace a little.

“Mmm, you know exactly what I’m doing. You loved getting off on my thigh when we were together before. Isn’t this what you wanted after all? Isn’t that the only reason you called me in here?” If you could see his face, you would have seen how badly his cheeks were burning. His eyes were watery all over again at the accusation and the compromising position.

It was true; it was all true. He didn’t bring you here to apologize. That would be a lie. Even though he knew how wrong it was, he still wasn’t sorry. He needed to push you away, he just had to, because if not—

“Oh!” You sped up the pace just a little more and a moan embarrassingly slipped from his lips at the change. He was so weak.

“Say it. Why did you ask me to come here?” You had to repeat your question to let him know that it wasn’t rhetorical. You wanted an answer.

He stumbled like it was a hard question to answer, but he knew the answer exactly. It was just the shame of it all that made it hard to tell you.

“Say it or I’ll leave,” you almost cooed, teasing as you lifted your thigh up a little further, making him cry out. You knew what you were doing. He wanted you so badly, he didn’t want you to go.

“I bought condoms— I have one in my back pocket,” He hurried out even faster— embarrassed, ashamed, and mortified at how it looked. But there was no further elaboration needed. He only brought you here to use them. He was horrible, selfish… the list went on, really.

You chuckled lightly to yourself. “Thank you for being honest, but not today—”

“But—” Jungkook rushed out, and pushed into your thigh a little faster all on his own. He didn’t want you to leave, he really didn’t.

“But nothing. Like I said, if you want anything you’re going to have to get yourself off just like this. You wanted to be mean, so we’re not fucking today and I’m not letting you touch me. This is the most you’re getting, so take it or leave it.”

The familiar hostility was different with you than it was with Yuri. He’d found himself in this same situation more often than not, but with Yuri, it came with an overwhelming dread that he wasn’t good enough for her. But with you… Maybe he had issues— no, he definitely did— but all he could focus on was that you had given him a way out. You didn’t curse his very existence and tell him to stay as far away from him as possible. You didn’t scream or yell. You were calm and slightly sultry in the way you spoke. You were mad at him, just like Yuri had been, but he didn’t understand why you didn’t scream at him too. You had more than every reason to. Your punishment was cruel, but it was far kinder than what he deserved.

It didn’t make sense, but in the haze of it all, all he could focus on was his desire to have you. For once, he didn’t want to think. He was always in his head too much these days.

Jungkook didn’t realize you were expecting an answer, but you didn’t need one as he responded by hurrying his pace across your thigh, a light moan falling from his lips as he finally relaxed and let go.

“Please—” he groaned into your shoulder. “I’ll take anything.” It was desperate and sad, more than sad, but he didn’t have the energy anymore to even try and pretend he wasn’t at his wits end.

Jungkook didn’t see the way that you smiled at his words. Instead, all he felt was the way you gently pulled him off of your shoulder and lightly pressed a kiss on his damp cheek. The affection made him whine, wanting to meet your lips more than anything, to drown in you like he had been thinking of doing ever since you left the storage room last time. But you gave him no such relief as you pulled away and slowly lowered your thigh down.

Jungkook felt like he was seconds away from crying. He had agreed to play your game, so why were you pulling away? It didn’t make any sense, and as soon as you moved away he felt himself start to lose it at the thought of needing to take care of the problem you had caused all on his own.

However, that wasn’t your plan. Instead, in the darkness, you brought your hand up to gently tuck his hair behind his ears. You wanted to see him better. Even if you were furious with him, he was still such a pretty boy.

Jungkook wasn’t touched much, that much was obvious, so a gesture so soft went straight down to his pleading cock that was already straining in his pants. He pushed you further into the wall, his hands on your waist eager to feel and touch you. He wanted to fuck you just like this, against the wall, as you stared into each other’s eyes. The sounds he knew you would make, he wanted you—

“Mmmm, don’t get too eager,” you quickly reminded him.

“I’ll be good.” He had to be.

“You better be. Just because I’m letting you do this doesn’t mean I’m not still mad at you.” Your voice was soft and calm, almost infuriatingly so.

“Likewise.” His tone was pained, but gritty and challenging, as if you didn’t hold all the power in the situation and could easily walk away whenever you pleased. But he was being honest— he was mad, just maybe not directly at you. But seeing you lit a fire underneath him so hot that just being here with you could melt him in seconds. Nothing about your effect on him had changed or would change. Maybe he’d eventually grow stronger to resist you again like he had over the last few years, but right now he was spiraling and he knew that. Just for a second, he wanted relief.

You definitely weren’t expecting the attitude, but you had said you didn’t want him to lie. You tried your best to ignore the way your heart reacted knowing without a doubt now that he was mad at you. Did you feel hurt? Pain? Maybe something else entirely?

Whatever it was, you did your best not to show it and the darkness of the storage room offered further aid to conceal your wavering emotions. If he wanted to be like that, so could you.

Instead of responding with something sassy, you grabbed his hand and squinting your way through the darkness, you were able to guide him over to a table— the same table he snatched your soul on nearly a week ago. How things had changed so quickly, or rather, maybe nothing had changed at all. You could just see everything for what it was now.

You hopped up on the table and before Jungkook could question it, you pulled him close so he was nestled between your legs and the distance between you almost disappeared. You lightly ran your hands down his sides, basking in his soft sighs as your hands settled on his waist.

“And what could I have possibly done to you to make you so upset at me?” you chuckled darkly. You knew the answer, but you just wanted to hear him say it.

You didn’t hesitate to move him so he was straddled over your thigh. It was ironic really, his words said one thing but he was so quick to submit to you. Jungkook groaned, not even needing your help to get things started as he steadily moved himself across your thigh.

The darkness didn’t help whatsoever with seeing what you knew would be such a glorious sight, but with the light peeking in from underneath the door, you could still make out the faint outline of his sharp features and his disgruntled expression. Your admiration was interrupted when you suddenly felt his hand lightly cup your cheek and he brought you close to rest his forehead against yours.

“You exist.”

You could barely hear him. It was so delicate, hardly over a whisper, but the way his voice wavered made his pain obvious. Deep down, you knew that probably wasn’t a lie or an exaggeration to get under your skin. It was clear he meant what he said, but instead of storming out like you probably should have, a wave of conflicting emotions hit you all at once and kept you in your place.

It quickly made you remember the very reason you found yourself in this position in the first place. Jungkook wasn’t ok, and whatever he was battling with was eating him up inside and clearly winning. It was awful to watch and you couldn’t imagine what he must be going through. As hurtful as his words sounded, you found you couldn’t pull away from his soft touch.

You let him kiss you. You had no desire to stop him anyway. He did it so well. His kisses reminded you of a fire— at times a fireplace you would sit and enjoy with a good book, and other times it was ash, the aftermath of a warzone when all that was left was destruction. This time, however, the fire was a blazing fury of passion, still burning brightly, but the aftermath seemed inevitable. While it was clear he wasn’t nearly as mad at you as you were at him, you could feel the anger he kept subdued in the way he hurriedly pulled you close. If the situation had been different, you would have thought it was a little hot.

You finally snapped yourself out of your daze and pulled away.

“What did I say about touching?” you reminded him, and it was almost startling how quickly he dropped his hand.

“Sorry— I’ll be good—” he mumbled as his attention turned from your face down to where your bodies met. Jungkook’s face burned. As much as his body was pleading for more, he couldn’t deny he somewhat enjoyed this punishment. The position was a little embarrassing, but as your hands started pulling and pushing him, he couldn’t say he hated the way you were handling him. It reminded him of the times that Yuri would sit in his lap and pin him down. A punishment that only made the ache worse in every possible way. Just the thought of it made Jungkook chase a little faster into the feeling of it all and pull you a little closer.

“Oh— fuck.” Jungkook practically whined at the quickening pace. The friction was good and he really didn’t need much of it to get off. Yuri had given him less in the past and he had made it work. It didn’t take very long for him to become putty in your hands. He had already been on edge before you even got here, so now—

“Y/n, please— can I— fuck—” Jungkook was struggling. He needed to be good, but he also wanted more. This position made him think back to the last time you both were in this storage room, how good it felt to be inside you— how good it would feel to do it again. It was painful how much he wanted to.

Somehow, you were able to understand his pleas. “I told you this is all you’re getting.” You were stern, but not in the same way Yuri would have been. As angry as he was at the situation, his punishment was deserved— in fact, he deserved worse. The fact you were letting him do anything at all was a testament to how kind and forgiving you were. The realization just made him feel even worse. And he couldn’t stop begging for more…

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook was quiet after that, instead doing his best to silently get as far as he could. The whole situation made his insides feel like a flurry of butterflies, which had more than a small effect on his cock. Wound up from Yuri’s lack of affection, wound up from thinking of you despite how hard he tried not to, and wound up from the sweet, sweet pleasure from your thigh— it was enough to quickly turn him into a mess. You seemed to notice that he was starting to struggle.

You stopped helping him, instead letting your hands fall behind you as you watched him struggle in the dark. Maybe he’d grown tired, or maybe he was too caught up in thinking about what it felt like to be inside you, but he just needed more.

“Fuck, I don’t think I can… I’m close, but— Y/n, please—” he cried, his eyes watery. It wasn’t enough and he was honestly terrified you’d leave him at any moment. He knew Yuri would have by now. She always hated his begging and you probably did too. You probably hated him completely. He was pathetic.

Before he could embarrass himself any further, you took it upon yourself to put him out of his misery. You brought his face closer, pressing a languid kiss right on his lips. It was messy— Jungkook being so eager at the slightest touch, but it was nice. As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you were enjoying seeing him like this a little too much. So eager that he’d do anything, even ride your thigh, for the opportunity to get off. It was cute, and saying it was a little hot as well would be an understatement.

As your kisses trailed down his neck, you bathed in his soft sighs of pleasure and tiny moans and pleas for more.

“Oh— oh—” he whined. It felt too good.

You didn’t plan to go any further. You thought you could be content with just watching him get off and call it a day so he could learn not to pull that shit again, but your limitation was turning into a punishment for you as well. Here in his arms, it was so easy to remember what he did to you the last time you both found yourselves in the storage room. How nice his fingers had felt inside you, the skilled work of his tongue, and you had been daydreaming about the orgasm he gave you since the minute you parted ways.

Your body was hot, and unbeknownst to Jungkook, who was trying his very best to keep his hands down, you made quick work of pulling your skirt up and pulling your drenched panties to the side. He didn’t notice something had changed until you moaned into the kiss, sending a whole new wave of need over his entire body.

Jungkook instantly pulled away and from the soft glow of the light creeping in from underneath the door, he saw your hooded eyes before turning his gaze downward and seeing what was happening between your legs. It was dark, and even though Jungkook had pretty good eyesight, it was still difficult to see the way your free hand had slipped between your legs. It was easy to hear, however. You had to be soaked…

The thought alone nearly made him rut into you until he came, but instead, he quickly tried to compose himself and groaned lightly before looking back into your eyes. Your gaze was haunting in the way he knew it would follow him despite how much he wanted it to go away. The way the light reflected off your shining eyes, the slight smile on your face as you peered into his bewildered gaze— confused, yet eager for more.

“You like what you see?” you lightly chuckled, teasing. Oh, the ache.

“I—I could help you,” he stammered, begging. He would do anything. This was a curse disguised as a blessing.

“Mmm, you’d really want that? I thought you said my existence bothered you,” you laughed breathlessly. You were pleasing yourself well; he could see it from the look on your face.

Jungkook wanted to blurt out that he didn’t mean it like that, but he couldn’t. That would be a lie. Nothing you did had ever bothered him besides the very fact that you existed. You made his life complicated, and he knew that wasn’t necessarily your fault. It was more on him than you, but—

You laughed again when he didn’t respond.

“Just sit there and be a good boy. Watching you is nice. Don’t cum until I finish,” you sighed so sweetly. The nickname was unexpected, but well-received apparently with how he suddenly discovered the newfound energy to speed up his pace. He could see the vague outline of your hand speeding up between your legs, seemingly trying to match his pace, and he wished he hadn’t turned off the lights. You looked so pretty like this, even in the dark… imagine…

Jungkook was a mess, a ferocious battle occurring in his head the longer he watched. He wanted nothing more than to be good for you. He didn’t want to disappoint you, he had to be good. But there was also a side of him that wanted to push your hand aside, help you out, and serve you in the very way he knew he should. If Yuri could see him now, she would be more than disappointed, letting you take care of yourself when that was meant to be his job. Your wish to pleasure yourself was harder not to interfere with than he could have thought.

He had already struggled before when the friction was nice, but not enough. And sitting here now, watching you and hearing your soft sighs and moans, made the ache so painful he needed to slow himself down in order to obey you. He had to be good. He couldn’t let you down too.

He just couldn’t stop himself from helping out a little, though— an occasional kiss when your whines pleaded for a little more, or moving his lips downward to lightly suck across your delicate skin. Jungkook was worried you’d stop him since he wasn't entirely following your orders, but you never did. Maybe you were too out of it to notice, or too out of it to care, or maybe you even liked his little touches. It was a little silly to think about.

It wasn’t long, though, before he started to notice some of the signs he recognized from the last time that you both were here that you were close. Your whines grew more desperate and hurried and it made him chase into you faster. He wanted to finish you off and make you make a mess all over his fingers. He wanted to ruin you.

“Y/n…” It was just your name, but it was his last-ditch attempt at asking you to let him help you. What he was met with wasn’t the rejection that he was expecting, or even something drastic like you grabbing his hand to replace your own. No, instead you pulled him into a hurried kiss. You both were chasing the euphoria of pleasure too blindly to care about remaining civil. It was messy, and Jungkook found himself enjoying the chaos of it all: tongues exploring every nook they could, teeth occasionally clashing, wet, hot need and desperation in the way you moved your mouth against his.

It wasn’t any surprise that as your whines grew more needy, so did his own desperation. He had to stop himself from speeding up and finishing too quickly. Instead, he kept his pace as steady as he could while he watched your pleasure unfold right before his eyes, the way your hand sped up and the look on your face growing more pained by the minute—

“Oh—oh—Ju—“ You didn’t get to finish your sentence, and he wished you had, but the sight of you was even better than he could have imagined. With the way your mouth fell open and your eyes fluttered closed as you worked yourself through your orgasm, Jungkook nearly came right along with you. It was honestly a miracle he didn’t. He hadn’t needed much, but it was far more than he required to have him hurtling toward the edge. It took everything in him to stop himself from giving in. He wanted to be good for you— he had to be.

As you steadily came down, Jungkook tried his best to slow himself down. He watched you, wide-eyed, waiting for your next order, thinking maybe you had changed your mind and wanted to leave.

“Okay… You can finish now,” you whispered, clearly out of breath. Jungkook’s body didn’t allow for a moment of hesitation as he immediately got back to work. Now with your permission, he felt crazed as he pulled you into another messy kiss, his body working faster than his mind so that he could hardly keep up. He pressed into you firmly, the unsteadiness of the table apparent with how it squeaked with each move he made. He was close— so, so close.

“Where? Where should I—” Jungkook hurried, realizing any moment might spell disaster. He was hoping for some type of direction from you, his mind so out of it that he couldn’t think up a reasonable solution other than to ruin his pants.

“Figure it out yourself,” you sighed, your eyes finally back on him, and Jungkook couldn’t help but whine realizing he was dealing with an even bigger emergency than he had thought only seconds ago.

For a second, he just continued as is, gliding across your thigh with no intention of stopping at any point. But finally, finally, he remembered the condom in his back pocket. Right!

Jungkook probably looked like a mess straining to reach in his back pocket while he also tried to keep his pace up and kiss you any chance he could. It was a struggle and many times he considered giving up, but finally he was able to pull it out and slam it on the table beside you.

Pants— now somehow he just needs to get his pants off…

Jungkook wanted to be good, but he was losing it. He hopped off your thigh and lifted you off the table to flip you around, your hands gripping the table firmly while your ass was pressed right where he was desperate to feel you. Jungkook had to practically tear himself away from your warmth to somehow get his belt loose, a horrendous struggle of need as he kept pressing into you, making it that much more difficult to take it off.

It was a vicious cycle of Jungkook making a little progress with his belt before the need to feel you became too great and he would consider giving up altogether, before thinking about the consequences and trying his hardest to get his belt loose and his zipper down.

Jungkook was nearing failure. He was only seconds away from giving in when finally his belt came undone and he could pull himself out, desperate to feel you. Jungkook should have pulled away so he could put the condom on, but instead he found himself pushing your skirt up and sliding between your thighs, rubbing himself along the soaked fabric of your panties, bringing himself closer to his breaking point. The condom was in his hand, ready to be opened so he could finally, finally have you, and then—

“Fuccccck!” Jungkook cried into your shoulder, tears slipping down his cheeks as his orgasm washed over him in a flush. It was humiliating and the embarrassment immediately made his cheeks burn as he steadily rocked into you, each wave washing away his problems before bringing new ones to the surface. It had happened so fast… and as nice as it felt, he couldn't help but feel ashamed that this was happening all over again.

It didn’t take long after the heat of his emotions died down to discover the mess he made on the table. The streak of light pouring in was enough to see where it glistened. Jungkook quickly turned on the lights, feeling relieved that by some miracle nothing had gotten on your clothes. It was also lucky that you happened to be in a supply closet so you had easy access to paper towels to clean things up.

Honestly, Jungkook was expecting you to leave, but you stayed and watched him try to straighten himself out while you simultaneously tried to fix yourself. You weren’t wearing bright lipstick today, so luckily it wasn’t smeared everywhere. And while things had gotten a little wild, your hair wasn’t in too bad of a condition and was relatively easy to smooth out.

Neither of you said a word, just working in silence until finally the time came for you both to leave. You gave him a slight smile before opening the door, which was more than he deserved, to be honest.

After you left, the guilt washed over him all over again. He had said he wouldn’t do this again, but—

As much as he was beating himself up about it, he knew deep down that he would eventually seek you out again.

•────•──────────•────•

“Hyung, I told you I can’t,” Jungkook groaned as he stared at his dinner, which was surely cold by now.

“All I heard was a no. You didn’t give me a legitimate reason why you couldn’t come with me,” Jimin pointed out, making Jungkook sigh for the billionth time.

Jimin had called him at an hour far too late for any type of decent conversation. Jungkook had gotten home late and had been staring despondently at Yuri’s empty chair and uneaten dinner for the last twenty minutes. His mood was down and his eyes had grown watery the longer he let his mind wander, when suddenly his phone rang.

Jimin had called to invite him to a concert that was happening in Itaewon that he was convinced Jungkook needed to go to.

“Hyung, I’m busy! Everyone’s busy right now!” It came off far more charged than he intended.

“That didn't stop you in the past! We used to have a billion things to do for work, but you’d always drag me out with you to concerts like this, saying the experience would be worth it,” Jimin reminisced.

“That was a very different time. I have a billion more responsibilities now. I don’t have time to just go out anymore,” Jungkook grumbled.

“But all you ever do is go to work and then go home. I think it would be good for you to get out of your routine and do something different for a change. I mean, when was the last time we hung out outside of the office?”

Jungkook wanted to have a rebuttal. It was on the tip of his tongue, but silence hung in the air as he tried to think about it. He couldn’t remember the last time…

“That’s because I’m busy. I’ve been trying to tell you this over and over, but you’re not listening,” Jungkook rolled his eyes, wondering why they were still having this conversation. A “no” should have been the end of it.

“I am listening. I just thought this would be something you’d want to go to. If you weren’t playing, you used any of your free time to try and be at a concert like this,” Jimin recounted.

Normally, an invitation to an indie concert was like cheese in a mouse trap for Jungkook. No matter the obstacle, Jungkook would try and go. There was even one time Jungkook had been sick in bed all week, but he had tickets to a concert where one of his favorite bands was playing. Jungkook hadn’t yet fully recovered, but he pushed through and still managed to attend. He always spoke fondly of the memory, even though his fever returned afterwards from pushing himself so hard, causing him to be bedridden for another week.

“I told you that that was a different time. I don’t understand why we need to keep going in circles around this,” Jungkook groaned once again. His patience was being tested. It was hard enough being at home alone right now and the last thing he needed was for Jimin to try and drag him out, adding more to his already full plate.

“And I told you it’s because you haven’t yet given me a legitimate reason why you can’t go,” Jimin retorted. And the cycle continued.

Jungkook had to stop himself from saying something he knew he shouldn’t, taking a couple of deep breaths before continuing.

“I don’t want to go, okay! Listen to me carefully, I. do. not. want. to. go. to. this. concert. with. you.” Jungkook made sure to articulate each word carefully. It seemed like his attempt to calm down wasn’t enough as it sounded far meaner than he wanted.

For the first time, the line was silent.

“Jungkook, I’m just trying to help you. I don’t think it’s healthy that all you ever do is go to work and go home. I thought this would be a fun thing for us to do together, a change in your routine you really might need.” Jungkook could hear the hurt in Jimin’s voice, but it didn’t quell his growing anger.

“I do not want to go! Leave me alone! We’ve been talking for forty minutes now about this stupid fucking concert after I’ve explicitly told you no several times!” Jungkook finally snapped.

“Jungkook—” Jimin tried to reply. But he had enough and hung up the phone.

Jungkook sighed and tried to return to his dinner. The call had no reason to go on for as long as it did. All Jimin had to do was take no for an answer and there would be no hard feelings. So why did he just have to keep pushing? To help? The last thing that would help him was forcing him to go somewhere he didn’t want to. Sure, in the past Jungkook would have appreciated the offer. It had normally been Jungkook dragging Jimin to concerts instead of the other way around. College-aged Jungkook would have never believed Jimin was the one who was trying to get him to go to a concert of all things.

Suddenly, in the darkness of the apartment, Jungkook found himself staring into the abyss, realizing how much he had changed. He had to change. No one was the same person they were in college. He had ten times more responsibilities than he had then. He had a wife, he was director of an entire department… he had no time for anything. College Jungkook had been a very different person and Jimin had to accept that.

But still, the longer he looked into the abyss, his eyes grew more watery. Had he really changed that much?

From his seat in the dining area he could see out into the living room where the guitar Jimin had gifted him still sat on the wall. Not once had he gotten the opportunity to play it and he didn’t think he ever would. He had more things to think about other than just himself now. He didn’t want to make Yuri unhappy. He didn’t want to make anyone unhappy. Yet why was that the only thing he seemed to do these days? Jimin was just trying to be nice. Jungkook used to love going to concerts, so of course Jimin would try to invite him. He didn’t want to be mean, so why had he been so mean to him?

His dinner became the last thing on his mind as tears quickly filled his eyes and spilled onto his cheeks. Pathetic, pathetic, you’re so pathetic.

A cry filled the silence of the apartment and Jungkook desperately wished Jimin were here with him.

•────•──────────•────•

Yuri had done it again.

Despite how much Jungkook insisted and pleaded, she went against his wishes no matter how much he asked her not to. For some reason, Yuri loved making his life difficult.

Had he truly been so horrible that a simple ask wasn’t even worth considering? That might have been it— he’d been nothing but horrible to her. Maybe she had stopped caring about anything he had to say now. He wouldn’t blame her…

But was it so wrong to ask her not to lead him on if she didn’t want to do anything further with him? Was it really that much of an unreasonable ask? Not once— but twice in one day Jungkook had found his face flushed, thinking he could finally make love to his wife properly, but then she’d abruptly pull away, degrade him for being so “needy,” then storm off, leaving Jungkook a helpless mess as he cried. Was it so bad that he just wanted a little bit of space for the time being?

Maybe it was. He was her husband so they should be close, but a little break couldn’t be too bad? Why did she always make it so hard when it didn’t need to be? One minute she was cold, wanting him as far away as possible, and the next she’d lure Jungkook to the point of relaxation, ready to love her, before ripping it away abruptly.

Jungkook had simply invited her to join him on the couch and cuddle. His intentions had been pure, but not even five minutes after she sat down, Yuri was on him not even five minutes after she sat down. He’d gone along with it, trying his best not to disappoint her, but he’d pushed too far when he pulled on the waistband of her shorts and that had been enough to set her off.

What made it worse was that he knew by now that if he hadn’t been spending his time with you, venting his frustration, that he surely would have ruined things even earlier by now. It was almost a miracle Yuri hadn’t suspected anything considering how jumpy he had been before he broke down in his office in front of you. Though it didn’t even help that much— if anything, his time with you only made him want to be with Yuri in the same way even more.

Maybe it was his guilt— or rather, the lack of guilt he felt about the affair that made him desperate to make up for it in some shape or form. He had been sneaking away with you to the storage room for some time now and not once had he ever regretted it. If anything, any time he made his way there he was excited, knowing he’d feel sweet bliss in the moment.

Once it was over though, he felt nothing. It was frightening. When he was with you it was the only time he could chase any type of feeling. He didn’t know what it was exactly, but it felt better than feeling nothing. Alone with you in the storage room, the world around him drowned out so easily. It was only for a few minutes, but it was enough.

The next day, Jungkook did the only thing he knew how to do these days and texted you. He never understood why you answered each and every time. He hoped that the first experience would have been enough to dissuade you, but at the same time he was thankful to you for being with him, even though he didn’t show it. Your relationship was complicated, sour, maybe even a little toxic considering the circumstances it was founded in.

“Why— why— why?!” Jungkook cried as quietly as he could as he held onto you. You both had gotten into another heated argument. Most of the time you would try not to talk to each other aside from Jungkook’s occasional check-ins that it was ok to proceed when he wanted more. This time though, with Yuri on his mind and emotions all over the place, Jungkook couldn’t help but spout a few words as soon as you walked in the room. It seemed he was taking all the bottled-up anger he shielded from Yuri and directing it onto you.

Basically, he’d questioned why you kept doing this to him. They were the words he wanted to say to Yuri, but he meant them all the same to you too. He was trying to be a decent husband and you were pulling him down further into the hole of irredeemability. Yuri already hated him. He wanted to make it work, he had to make it work. So many people were counting on him to be a good husband. How was he ever going to win her heart if you existed? Why, why were you doing this to him?!

As expected, you didn’t take his ranting very well. Jungkook was basically questioning the very nature of your existence and for some reason he thought that your presence was simply enough to force him into doing the wrong thing. It was outrageous, he knew that, and he hated what he said the minute the words left his mouth, but instead of apologizing and admitting he wasn’t having a good day, he doubled down. It was awful. He wanted you to leave. He wanted you to stay even more despite his harsh words. For some reason, you chose the latter. He didn’t understand why, but it didn’t take much time until he had you pinned against one of the shelves.

A flurry of anger, lust, and a need that spread faster than a wildfire. You both had hardly engaged in any foreplay before he hurriedly stuffed his cock inside of you. Immediately, he burst into tears— his building emotions overflowing and spilling from his eyes. He didn’t know whether they were angry tears or sad tears. He didn’t know why he cried all the time these days. It was so bad.

“Why are you doing this to me?!” Jungkook sobbed into your shoulder, thrusting harder as he grew close.

“Fu—fuck you,” you spat back at him.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Am I not good enough?” he questioned sadly. He didn’t need you to answer, he already knew what you would say. If Jungkook was good enough, he wouldn’t be here right now. He would be in his wife’s arms instead. He would be happy, she would be happy if he was good enough.

“Fuck you, Jungkook, fuck y—“ you cursed at him as your profanity morphed into a whine. His punishing pace never faltered.

“Shut up— please.” Not now, not when all he could picture was his wife’s disappointed face.

Jungkook switched up his pace to long, languid strokes. The tears kept spilling from his eyes. He always got extra sappy when he was close; Yuri pointed it out all the time.

“Why does she hate me so much? Why am I never good enough for her? Why—” He was upset, yet he knew he had no right to be. He was the one making her miserable. Things would be so much easier if he was just a little better.

You didn’t say anything back and he was glad you didn’t. Any judgment would have been enough to send him off the edge. Instead, you just listened silently to his saddened cries as he fucked all of his frustration into you.

Your feelings for Jungkook were complicated, but the sex was good. Very good, actually. The passion was so explosive whenever you were in a room together alone. Sometimes that passion manifested as anger, other times it was lust, and sometimes it was both, like in this case.

It was clear Jungkook was struggling, and as much as your instincts were telling you to stay far away from him, you feared what would happen if you didn’t keep coming back. Each time the sex got better despite Jungkook seeming visibly worse. He was literally having a breakdown right now and it wasn’t even the first time it had happened.

You tried your best to keep your emotions under control, not wanting to set him off in any way, but he was harsh towards you, and even harsher towards himself.

“Just want her to— why can’t— fuck— why doesn’t she want me?!”

You didn’t want to pry, but his pleas already had a picture of his wife forming in your mind.

“I— I told you— told you to please go easy on me until you’re ready, but you— you don’t want to listen to me. You never do.” His voice was hoarse and pained. These were deep, dark thoughts that he didn’t even know he had until they left his mouth. He felt sick when they did.

All you could see were the faint labels on the boxes in front of you, but for a moment you were tempted to turn around and look at him. He sounded so sad.

“Yuri— please—” he cried, holding you a little tighter.

You could only imagine he was thinking about his wife at that moment. It was a strange experience hearing another woman’s name come out of his mouth while he was inside of you. Initially, you just wanted to turn around and slap him and tell him that you were right here, but you had to remind yourself that it was his wife after all— of course that’s who he was thinking about.

“Please— please— please— oh-pl—” He was close. Really, really close.

Jungkook’s sobs morphed into pained whines the closer he grew to the end. His thrusts grew sloppier with each moan and you helped out a little by tightening yourself around him, something you had learned was a catalyst to quickly finishing him off. The first time, you were a little too eager when he put it inside of you and he probably didn't even last a minute longer after that. And just like back then, the moment you squeezed around him he was practically putty in your hands.

After a couple of more thrusts, he stilled inside you completely before pumping the condom full of his cum. He had nearly forgotten to put it on earlier— the heat of the moment making him act a little too hastily. His grip on your waist tightened, and for a moment it sounded like he had stopped crying. For a second, you wanted to believe that you had given him a little relief from whatever hell he seemed to be going through.

Jungkook didn’t move for a while. Instead, he stayed close, thrusting lightly as he sobbed into your shoulder, mumbling things you couldn’t even make out anymore. You didn’t stop him, nor did you say anything. You just let him cry.

Things seemed to be particularly bad today. You had tried your best to piece it all together from the random words he slipped out. You knew it had to do with Yuri and something that she had done to him, but he never got more specific than that. Seeing how poorly he was reacting, you could only imagine how terrible it was.

He was shaking. You could feel the trembling of the hand he had on your waist, and even though he’d grown quiet, you could feel your blouse dampening with each second that passed.

You felt the urge to ask him if he was ok again, even though you already knew the answer. You were about to ask, when suddenly Jungkook pulled away. You hadn’t been prepared for the coolness of the room without his warmth.

You vaguely saw his silhouette move around in the darkness. You figured he was throwing away the condom, but then you watched him go over to the same table he’d often taken you on to grab the box of tissues you had pulled out of storage. You heard him blow his nose before you faintly saw him wipe his eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“I’m sorry— sorry— I— ummm…” Jungkook took a deep breath, his voice wavering a little too much, nearly cracking in the process. “You can hop up on the table.”

You tried not to look too shocked despite the fact that he probably couldn’t see you anyway. You honestly hadn’t expected him to still be in the mood for that today, seeing how upset he was. But no matter how heated the moments could get between you two, Jungkook was always nice enough to help you out afterward in more desperate times like this when you didn’t finish along with him.

“You sure? You don’t really seem like you’re doing ok,” you asked hesitantly, walking over to him.

“Yeah, I want to be useful for something.” He almost sounded like he was about to burst into tears again.

“We don’t have to if you don’t—”

“I do— I want to… please—” He didn’t even let you finish before he grabbed your hand and pulled you close. You had the consuming urge to pull him into a hug or kiss his cheeks to make him feel better, or at least get a smile out of him. You resisted though, and jumped up on the table before letting your heels fall to the floor. You had nearly stabbed him in the back one time, so now you always made it a point to take them off whenever you were in this position.

You watched with curious eyes as he dropped to his knees right in front of you. You could still see the shininess in his eyes as he looked up at you. What could he have possibly done to make Yuri so upset? You had every reason to be upset at him, yet you still couldn’t find it in you to hold onto any ill feelings or hatred. Things were just complicated at the moment.

Jungkook proceeded to be sweet to you like he always was, leaving soft gentle kisses across your skin before you had to grip onto his hair as he sent you to another dimension once again.

•────•──────────•────•

“Y/n, what’s been going on between you and Director Jeon?” Solmi asked you out of the blue one day, causing you to nearly choke on your rice.

You had only just arrived at the table to join her and Taehyung for a late lunch. They were both nearly finished already, but lucky for you, you had brought the leftovers you wanted to finish off for lunch today. By the time you made it to the cafeteria, the lunch line had already closed.

You told them you had been with Jungkook, which wasn’t technically a lie. They thought he had held you up because of a meeting you had mentioned in which Jungkook had emailed you wanting to meet up to discuss budget planning, specifically to get your input about salaries for the department. That had not been a lie either.

Jungkook and you had met earlier for actual work purposes to go over some important information. Director Son was out of the office for a big meeting over at another company— so you’d stepped in to fill his place. It was just that although you both had finished shortly before lunch, a lot of tension had started to build between you over the course of your meeting. No arguments were had, but anytime you’d get deep into the numbers, he would stare at you with this strange look in his eyes.You had no idea why, as you were just discussing business, but you were so used to that look by now that you knew what it meant he wanted.

You were just about to leave when you felt his hand close around your wrist. You turned and looked behind you and caught his sparkling eyes peering into yours as he so quietly and shyly asked if he could have just a little more of your time.

That’s how you both ended up sneaking away to the storage room as the time ticked away into your lunch break. You had both tried to be quick— Jungkook insisting he would work fast, but that didn’t deter him from giving you two orgasms with his tongue before sending you into a third with his cock. You were still buzzing, your knees a little weak, as you hurried downstairs to meet your friends who were waiting for you.

You tried to keep calm at her question. “Wha-What do you mean?” You nearly choked as you tried to stuff kimchi in your mouth so you didn’t have to answer.

“We used to be down here at least once a week hearing you rant about how awful Jeon Jungkook was,” she said, imitating your voice during the last part. “But then it stopped and you guys seem closer now. Do you not hate him anymore?” she asked bluntly. Solmi had always been that way.

“Uhhh—” you stumbled, at a loss for words. “We’re not that close, really. My new position just requires us to work together more often. Do I still hate him? It’s umm— it’s complicated.” Technically another honest answer— that wasn’t a simple question anymore.

“Complicated?” Taehyung repeated, his cheeks full of rice.

“Yeah. It was easier to hate him when he was just a mysterious figure that I hardly ever saw in person, but now… since we’ve started working a little more closely together and we’ve had some time one-on-one… I don’t know how to describe it other than it’s complicated. He’s a weird dude, and I will never forgive him for all the work he’s assigned me over the years, but… he’s also a busy guy and seems like he has a lot on his plate. He’s not so bad when you get to know him a little more personally. Again, it’s just complicated,” you sighed as you played with your food. Again, you hadn’t lied. Despite everything, you just couldn’t really hate the guy anymore, but that didn’t stop you from thinking he could be a major dick sometimes.

“Really?” Solmi inquired after your long winded answer.

You nodded steadily.

“Does this mean you’re not president of the Jungkook hate club anymore?” she followed up quickly, and Taehyung joined her in her laughter. You found it a little funny too.

“I think it’s time I retire. I’m sure there’s someone who hates him more than me now,” you smiled, but for a second, Jungkook’s words echoed in your head as you thought about his wife.

“Wahhh, I never thought I’d see the day you retire from something,” Taehyung said seriously, looking over at Solmi.

You playfully rolled your eyes, knowing full well what he was referring to. On one of the dates you went on, you told him you never thought you’d ever retire, your ambition making it too difficult for you to settle down.

“If you don’t hate him anymore, then I won’t feel bad bringing up the fact I think his eyes are really pretty,” Solmi said so quickly, you nearly didn’t catch it.

You gasped at her words before you rolled your eyes again. You couldn’t even say anything back. You thought they were pretty too. Deep down, you knew you always had for some reason.

•────•──────────•────•

You needed a car. That had become apparent long before you started working at Golden Tech, but it was only recently that it had started to become detrimental to your career.

Your new position had you moving around the city a lot more often than your last one did. It wasn’t too uncommon for you to need to join Director Son in meetings with other companies, or venture out on your own to get across town. The amount of times you’ve had to deal with the challenges of relying on public transportation to get to meetings was insane.

You finally decided enough was enough the first time you accompanied Director Son to a meeting and he offered to let you ride in the car with him. In comparison to the bus or subway, it was practically night and day, finally confirming how much easier it would be to just suck it up and get your own car. There was no stress of needing to run to the bus stop so you could make it back to work on time. Aside from the slight traffic you ran into, it was much smoother sailing compared to the times you’d gone on your own.

Funnily enough, aside from the fact that cars and gas were expensive, you had only gotten your license just last year. Taehyung had actually been the one to teach you after you confessed to him late one late night about feeling a little insecure that you were in your mid-20s and you didn’t know how to drive. Your ambitious nature had gotten you a job at Golden Tech and the Associate Director position all within the span of just two years, but it was also what prevented you from doing certain things, like getting your license. You were always too busy with school to take the time to learn. Plus, you had moved away from home for college and going back home to Busan for driving lessons from your family during your busy schedule was impossible— or well, it just wasn’t going to happen.

Taehyung had been kind enough to meet up on your free weekends to teach you. Once you finally passed your test, you met up with Tae to celebrate, and that’s when your friendship got complicated. He kissed you, you kissed him back, he asked you out, and suddenly you were in a “secret” relationship and going on dates as often as you could.

But that had been over a year ago now. You had your license, but never got a car because you never found the time to start that process. Plus, you were making do with public transportation so you found no need for the extra expense. But ever since Director Son drove you to that meeting, you’d been considering it. Your income was sufficient now and you finally felt like you were ready to become a car owner. You hoped it would be a nice Christmas or New Year's gift to yourself for the great year you had had. Right now, though, you were just in the research stage and still dealing with the struggles of public transportation.

This was all to say that when Jungkook told you about a meeting he needed you and Director Son to attend with him, you ran into an issue. You somehow let it slip that it would be a little difficult to make it there in time since rush hour would be occurring at the time. The subway wasn’t a good option since it could get so crowded, making it impossible to get out of the station, and the closest bus stop to the company was ten minutes away, which with traffic meant you’d end up running minutes late. You’d already tried that route before and had had to call the company on a crowded subway to tell them that you were going to be late.

And that was how Jeon Jungkook offered to give you a ride.

“I’ll drive you. We’re going to the same place anyway. It'll be fine.” His words were nice, yet he had a bit of an attitude. You weren’t fighting, but this was just how things always were between you two.

It was easy to guess why you were hesitant. Being alone in a car with Jeon Jungkook wasn’t something you really wanted to do. So much so, that you actually told him you’d ask Taehyung to give you a ride first before agreeing to his proposition. You had thought you were doing him a favor by saving him from the awkwardness of the ride, but for some reason his attitude changed completely as soon as you mentioned that.

You honestly had no idea what had happened, but suddenly he was insisting it would be no trouble. He emphasized that you were going to the same place and that it would be too much unnecessary work for Taehyung since he wasn’t going to the meeting. Somehow, Jungkook convinced you to feel guilty about asking Taehyung, and that was exactly why you ended up walking down to the garage with him on the day of the meeting.

You were both silent as you walked. It had been that way since you left his office earlier. It felt like that day all over again. And just like that day, you were greeted with Jungkook’s fancy ass Mercedes.

Now that you had been doing a little research into cars, as you got in, you were in for another reality check on how rich he was. Not only did he own a Mercedes, but you knew some of the features you saw were crazy expensive to add on— you know, you had checked after liking Jungkook’s car so much.

You couldn’t deny how sexy the car looked with its sleek black interior and the pretty lights that added a subtle ambiance, a little color to cut through all the blackness. It was hot, and you had to stop yourself from fawning as you looked around at the lavishness of it all.

Not in front of him.

But once again, just like last time, your eyes couldn’t help but to drift over to him as Jungkook started up the vehicle. He had one hand on the wheel as he pulled out, his pretty hair sitting right at his shoulders, the waves making him look ethereal. It was ridiculous how someone this good looking could even exist.

As enthralled as you were by his beauty, the serious expression he wore concerned you and made you worried he was annoyed with having you there. It didn't make any sense since he was the one who insisted on you driving with him. You had tried to save yourselves the trouble by at least wanting to ask Taehyung if he was free, but noooo, he wanted to make things complicated.

Instead of dwelling on it too much, you just turned your attention out the window to admire the sights and to stop thinking about Jungkook.

You had thought it would be a relatively short drive, even though the company you both were headed to was on the opposite side of the city. Director Son had actually gotten there earlier in the day, having a meeting on his own before the one you and Jungkook would join started. If he hadn’t had to arrive early, you probably would have asked him for a ride instead.

You really hadn’t expected the ride to take that long, but once again, you were reminded that rush hour didn’t just apply to public transportation. The traffic was almost immediate as you pulled out of the garage. Luckily for you, Jungkook had insisted on leaving early, probably having better foresight and expecting the traffic, but even you could tell that traffic was particularly bad.

You wondered if it was normal, but as you looked over at Jungkook, you saw his face grow more disgruntled each minute you only moved up a little bit. Of course it was just your luck that for some reason, traffic was especially bad today.

To make the ride even more uncomfortable, the mood in the car was tense. Jungkook seemed to have some type of problem. He hadn’t said anything to you yet, but you were terrified that at any moment he would be back to playing the blame game. Maybe he wanted to bring you along just to torment you? Maybe you should have just lied and said Taehyung had already agreed to drive you? Anything to take back getting in this fucking car.

In a desperate attempt to keep the car ride civil, you asked Jungkook if you could turn on the radio. You were a little surprised he agreed and even told you where to go on the touch screen. As the poppy chorus of the latest idol songs filled the car, it made things a little less awkward. You were focused on trying to stop yourself from singing along and keeping Jungkook out of sight, out of mind. As long as you kept your attention focused out the window, all would be fine. Before you knew it, you’d be at the company and you’d be free from this claustrophobic hell.

But then it was your fault that you made the horrible mistake of turning your head too much, letting you see Jungkook’s displeased expression out of the corner of your eye, his eyes burning a hole into the car in front of you.

Was it the traffic that had him so pissed? You knew being the driver would make the situation even more annoying. Hopefully it wasn’t you, or else you really would have to jump out of the car to avoid his bitching when you had a meeting to worry about.

You didn’t know what came over you. Maybe you were willing to do anything to save the car ride from turning into a fight, so you let your body act first before your mind could catch up to stop you. All of a sudden, you rested your hand on his thigh. You felt your cheeks warm up as you watched Jungkook look down at it, and then over at you.

You wondered if he was going to say something. He looked like he was about to, but ultimately he never did. Instead, he turned his attention to fixate back on the car in front of you.

You honestly had no idea where you were going with this. You had initially acted without thinking, but as time passed, you subtly started to run your hand up and down his thigh to try and calm him down. It wasn’t anything too crazy, but it was enough to make Jungkook look down and then over at you again.

“I can stop if you want me to.” You finally looked over to meet his eyes. You both knew where it would go if you continued, so you thought it best to ask him if he was comfortable. You didn’t know how you had gotten yourself here, you kept telling yourself, ignoring the way you had been daydreaming about how good he looked driving.

Jungkook looked at you for a moment and you were keen to notice the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened each time your hand moved a little higher up his thigh, and the subtle way he bit his lip the longer he stared. You hated to admit it was a little hot.

“You’re fine— you can keep going,” he nervously coughed as he turned back to the road.

He was embarrassed, still not quite used to how starkly different things were with you than with Yuri. She would never do something like this for him, let alone let him rest his hand on her thigh. He had tried once, one of the few times she had ridden in his car. He got the idea after watching a movie where the guy did it with his girlfriend. Jungkook’s cheeks flushed and he got butterflies anytime there’d be a scene of them in the car, causing him to bury himself in the blanket he’d wrapped himself with. He figured he would try it out with Yuri one day, but it didn’t go well… nothing he ever did went well.

He was still getting used to how often you two were meeting up in the storage room. He’d only bought a small box of condoms, figuring just like with Yuri, anything more would be a waste. But weirdly enough, he was already needing to plan his next trip to the store when he realized you were nearing the end of the box. Jungkook would have been shocked if you hadn’t let him have you with less than a week in between, but you never once turned down his shameless begging, even after only a day. He could hardly keep up and he still felt guilty anytime he’d ask you.

When he invited you to drive with him, he definitely wasn’t prepared for you to flip things around. His intentions hadn’t been impure whatsoever, he truly thought it made more sense then you needing to run off with Taehyung, right? Why should you ask Taehyung when you both were going to the same place and he had room in his car? It didn’t make any sense for you to go with Taehyung— unless, well, unless you had wanted a chance to be alone with him because you—

His mind had been racing with that thought when suddenly, he felt your hand on his thigh. It instantly took him out of his spiral, and when you started moving— Jungkook had to press his index finger between his lips to stop himself from moaning out. You started off with subtle movements, but when you noticed the way he shifted slightly to meet your hand anytime you moved up his thigh, you stopped. Your hand stayed right where his pants continued to grow tighter.

Jungkook was far too weak and sensitive to stay calm. The frustrations from this ridiculous traffic, the stress of making it to the meeting on time, and your hand on his thigh made the frustration so intense he needed to seek you out for refuge like he always seemed to do these days.

He was hard before you even made it to the next stoplight.

His face was warm, embarrassed because he wasn’t sure if this is what you had intended when you started, but surely you had realized the effect of your hand by now.

He was so pathetic. He wasn’t even entirely sure whether or not he wanted to start crying or pleading for more.

More, he wanted more. As you both sat in traffic, his mind was wandering off to imaging so many things he wanted to do. He wanted to ask for you to touch him more. He could undo his belt and zipper, and oh— he also wanted to feel you. He wanted to feel your mouth again— it had been a while since that day in his office. The very thought was enough to get him flushed in the face as it grew more and more difficult to focus.

Every time his eyes glanced down and he’d see what you were doing, it just got worse. Part of him was absolutely terrified that someone could see what was happening if they happened to look through the window, but the other half didn’t care and wanted you to finish what you had started.

It got especially bad when you finally seemed to notice the problem you had made, your fingers tracing over the very obvious outline in his slacks. He felt tears well up in his eyes. You hadn’t been doing enough to make him cum, but he almost wished you had been because the teasing was unbearable. He was tempted to say fuck it, and plead for you to touch him the proper way so he could feel your soft hands all over his skin, and maybe—

Jungkook had to quickly slam the brakes, realizing he had spaced out so much that he didn’t realize the car in front of him had stopped already. You both lurched forward, only slightly, but enough for his embarrassment to get even worse.

“So-sorry!” he quickly apologized, his face somehow growing even hotter.

“It’s fine. Did you need me to stop?” you asked, a bit of concern in your voice.

Jungkook thought about it, and as much as he knew you should, he couldn’t find it in himself to actually wish you would. He had no shame. Jungkook shook his head no, not having enough confidence to tell you honestly that he loved the feeling of your hand and that the thought of stopping now made him want to scream.

He heard you chuckle slightly. “Just make sure to keep your eyes on the road, okay?”

Right. If he was already this much of a mess from you touching him over his clothes, going further might cause you to actually crash. He kept reminding himself that, but the longer you both sat in traffic, the harder it grew not to beg you to finish him off. You wound him up so easily—

Luckily for him, right as things got to the point where he was seriously about to beg you to touch him more, you finally came to the area that had apparently caused the traffic jam. You were right— it was an accident. Nothing too disastrous, it just seemed like a pretty bad fender bender. Police officers had been steadily directing traffic while officials were trying to clear the scene. The minute after you made it past them, it was smooth sailing.

It didn’t take too long afterward for you both to finally pull up to the company— apparently, they were one of the suppliers for Golden Tech. You, Jungkook, and Director Son had come to discuss terms for their services for next year.

Jungkook pulled up to the gate that led into the garage where a security guard stopped you. You quickly removed your hand from Jungkook’s thigh, and for a second, he reached for you to put it back again.

You pointed at the security guard. Right.

Jungkook rolled down the window.

“Oh! I thought it was you! Good afternoon, Director Jeon!” the security guard smiled and bowed.

“Hi!” Jungkook tried to smile back, but all he was thinking about was your hand.

“Dae-Jung isn’t driving you today? I almost didn’t recognize you,” he laughed, looking past Jungkook and peering at you in the passenger seat.

“No— I’m working late today, so I’m driving myself.” It was true. He was staying late today to meet all the deadlines he needed to. But he also knew you would be joining him today. Maybe there had been some part of him that knew things would get heated, maybe some part that had hoped they would.

“I see. We were told to expect you for a meeting. Would you like for us to send someone down to park your car?” The security guard was very animated, in a good way. His energy was infectious and he seemed really sweet. If things were different, Jungkook might have taken him up on his offer considering how long you both were stuck in traffic. He could only imagine the meeting was probably about to start.

“There’s no need. I can do it myself. Thank you for the offer though.” Jungkook tried to maintain a smile to appear not too rude, but he needed you.

“Alright, just find someplace to park. A team member will be at the entrance to escort you to the meeting room.” And with that, the security guard went inside the little building to lift the arm up and allow you to drive through.

You were honestly a little confused why Jungkook didn’t take him up on the offer considering the time. Maybe he hadn’t noticed? Luckily, when you made it in, there just so happened to be a spot available close to the door right at the entrance.

Once he parked, you were ready to jump out and start running when you suddenly felt a hand on yours. You turned to see Jungkook’s shiny eyes looking at you. Right, you almost forgot…

“We still have fifteen minutes left— I would just need like, two minutes— but, uh, you don’t have to— we, um—” Jungkook was beyond flustered, having to ask. You really should run so you could meet Director Son before the meeting started, but there was no way he’d be able to go up there and face all those people feeling like this.

You sighed. This was technically your fault. “You don’t think there would be any time to sneak off once we make it inside?” you asked, wondering if maybe you and Jungkook could find a bathroom before the meeting started… maybe? Then again, that didn't sound very smart.

Jungkook shook his head.

Instead of contemplating it anymore, you just decided to roll with it. “Alright, get your belt off, let’s make this quick,” you sighed as you shifted to get in a better position.

Jungkook didn’t need to be told twice as you watched him frantically tug off his belt and undo his zipper before looking back up at you with pleading eyes. Huh? He could have at least taken himself out first. But you didn’t say anything, not really having time to fight him, so you reached over the console and did the job yourself.

At first, you were just going through the motions, trying your best to be quick about this. You weren’t even thinking about it too much until you felt his precum leak onto your palm. Oh?

“That really worked you up, huh?” You were honestly a little baffled, truly amazed at how sensitive he was. You knew you had been teasing him, but you didn’t expect him to get this turned on by just your hand on his thigh.

“Please…” he moaned, his voice wavering slightly, making you look up and see how flushed he was. This was serious, even more than you originally had thought.

You watched him carefully as you steadily began pumping his length, occasionally running your finger across the tip. The way his eyebrows furrowed when you seemed to hit a sensitive spot, the way he bit his lip, and the cute way he didn’t know what to do with his hands so he was just clutching anything within range… These little details had been lost in the darkness of the storage room before.

You began slowly and would have kept things going like that for a bit longer, but you both had places to be and not much time left. You quickly took your hand back, spit in it to give you some extra glide, and got back to work, hoping it would make things happen quicker.

“Oh— oh! Oh…” Jungkook groaned, letting his head fall back. You could tell he was trying to hold back, but he was a little louder than what he usually was in the storage room. You hated to admit it, but his moans were really just as pretty as he was. You tried your best to stay focused on the task at hand and ignore the way your panties were dampening by the second. You had a meeting to go to…

You distracted yourself by keeping your eyes on the time and making sure your technique was supreme so it would go as fast as possible— twisting your wrist with each upward stroke, making sure to prioritize the tip, the little things. And just like Jungkook promised, it was only a few seconds after the clock ticked for a second time that things got serious.

“Close!” he hurried out.

Alright— you were making ok time. Maybe thirty more—

“Wait— ughh, wait! Where do I…?” Jungkook hurried out quickly. It just dawned on you again exactly where you were.

“Umm, do you have condoms with you?” you questioned, but Jungkook quickly shook his head. He had tears in his eyes. He honestly thought this was going to be it, that you were just going to stop and tell him to suck it up and get over it. That’s what Yuri would have done.

“Ok, we only have one option then. Hurry up and move your seat back a little.” Jungkook was confused, but followed your words anyway since there was no time to question it. As soon as he moved back, you maneuvered yourself to lean over the console and came face-to-face with his length, grasping it between your fingers.

“What are you— oh, oh fuck…” Jungkook whined as you took him into your mouth. You tried to be gentle so you wouldn’t ruin your makeup, but you planned to make this quick. Luckily for you, with Jungkook being as sensitive and as close to the edge as he was, that wouldn’t be a very difficult task to accomplish.

You were only able to get a couple strokes in before his hand quickly flew up to gently hold your head down— he was always so gentle— and you felt him cum down your throat. His noises turned into a mess of expletives, whines, and pretty, pretty moans as you steadily helped him through it. He came fast, hard, and was shaking slightly by the time you pulled off of him.

That was…

He probably looked like a mess. His hands had been running through his hair again. He had tried so hard to make it look nice, you’d even helped him out a little earlier when he complained that he didn’t know what to do with it after he’d messed with it all morning. You had been so soft in the way you concentrated on moving all his curls in the right place. Jungkook’s face had burned and his heart nearly raced out of his chest.

“You ok?” you eventually asked when you noticed he seemed kind of dazed.

That finally brought him back, realizing the time was still ticking. “Yeah s-sorry!” Jungkook stumbled, grabbing the things he needed.

“Don’t apologize… 9 minutes…” You looked over at the clock, but then hurriedly brought out your phone to look in the camera and fix whatever had gotten out of place from your activities. Luckily, it wasn’t too bad. Just a quick reapplication of your lipstick and fixing your hair up a bit and you’d pretty much be good.

“Thank you by the way…” Jungkook said so softly. His face was a little red, you noticed. It was one of the few moments you had these days when the tension dissipated and you were reminded of the shy boy who started blushing if you looked at him for too long.

“It was my fault—” You stared intently at your camera as you reapplied your lipstick. “It wasn’t fair to just leave you hanging like that,” you said plainly.

As soon as you were both done, you hurriedly got out, but then you quickly stopped him from heading to the door. “Let me just—”

Jungkook watched with wide eyes and a warm face as you worked to fix his hair once again. It wasn’t much, you really didn’t have the time to be standing here, yet you still…

“Alright, that’s all I can do— it looked so good before we left. But, huh, somehow you still look great— the messy look suits you,” you say nonchalantly as you continue speed walking. Jungkook had to hurry to catch up to you, dazed from the compliment, your intoxicating sweet scent, and the look in your eyes.

Oh…

Part of him was tempted to say something, but he was too flustered for anything reasonable to come out.

“By the way, Jungkook, do you have any car recommendations?” you asked randomly as you both started to pick up the pace. You didn’t even need to turn behind you to feel Jungkook’s confused gaze.

“You seem like you have a good taste in cars and I was looking for— you know what, nevermind, we only have five minutes. We’ll finish this conversation later, just run!” You grab onto his hand and despite being in heels, you begin to book it. If only you could see the flushed look on Jungkook’s face as he trailed behind you.

This wasn’t a situation you were unfamiliar with. There had been multiple meetings where you’d had to runfrom the subway station or bus stop to make it in somewhat reasonable time. How ironic was it? You thought going by car would be much quicker, but somehow you found yourself in the same situation all over again. Seriously, just your luck.

“I’ll take care of you when we get back!” Jungkook called out from behind you. You didn’t turn around to reveal the smile on your face to him. Of course, he always needed to keep things even. Instead of responding, you just ran a little faster.

You were going to be late at this point!

previous chapter « main masterlist ✩ series masterlist » coming 9/15

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #for the birds #bts #jungkook #bts fluff #bts angst #bts jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bangtan boys #bangtan sonyeondan #bts fan fiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst

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yooglefics · 5 months

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Reveal — Part two: editing

Pairing: Yoongi x fem!reader ( camboy!yoongi x camgirl!reader ) Wordcount: 1,735 words Genre: 18+, mdni, remainder to not use fanfics as your only source of sex ed. Summary: Yoongi is just helping a friend help you, but is he even supposed to listen to this?. Part 2 of Reveal: recording. Read it for context. This is just why and how we got to that ending. More warnings under read more.

Includes: Mentions of selling sex content. People recording sex acts. Mentions of sexual activity ( doing things and also talking about doing things and thinking about doing more things ). Mentions of past and not past masturbation ( f and m ). Dirty talk? I guess?. Sprinkle of possessive yoongi? Is not my fault i sweaaaar Author's note: Remember when I started writing something short and silly lmao, what a time. Btw, I have never used OF so if something I say about how they use the website is actually not true / completely wrong just pretend please lmao. Anyway, I thought it'd be fun to write Yoongi's side, hope you like it! If you do please remember to leave a comment, reblog, ask, follow and what not. Thank you for reading <3

Saturday is probably Yoongi's favorite day of the week. No waking up early, no work, and not worrying about having to do any of those the next day.

That's why he groans when his phone rings with messages from Jungkook. He knows is him because he is the only one who still insists on sending him a million messages instead of just one.

Love the guy, but he can be annoying.

The fifth ring comes and hopping is the last one, Yoongi finally reaches for his phone and rolls to his back.

JK: hey JK: are you awake? JK: and free today? JK: i need a favor JK: yoongi?

Yoongi: with what? If I have to leave my house is probably a no.

Both of them know that actually, even if it ruined his plans of relaxing, he would say yes. Because that's what friends do.

JK: no no. You can do it at your house JK: I need to edit an audio for my friend JK: but I'm on the schedule today JK: and if I don't send it back quickly she will back out JK: please?

Yoongi: ok. Send it to me. Yoongi: you own me, tho.

Throwing his phone on the bed, he gets out of it to grab a bottle of water from the fridge, getting ready to sit in his studio for at least an hour. He knows is probably a bit extra to use his expensive equipment for whatever this favor is, but if he is going to help, he is going to do it right.

Opening Jungkook's messages on his laptop, Yoongi almost wants to laugh at himself.

JK: [ killmepls.mp3 ] JK: is and OF thing, btw JK: don't listen to it in public lol

Yep, definitely Poducer Min equipment is too extra for this. But, fuck it.

The archive is already downloaded when he opens the software, starting a new project and naming it the same as the audio plus final, to not get confused. Plugging in his headphones he starts playing it, already noticing whoever this is, is pretty quiet at the beginning and he would most likely have to cut it off, still, he listens to make sure.

A few taps followed by a “hi..” is the start, and he chuckles at their giggles.

He decides to let that in, but cuts the next few seconds where only their breathing can be heard along with some clicking and fabric moving. Is too long of a pause for this kind of thing and the clicking gives a way they weren't ready to start. Sure they wouldn't mind.

They put music on? It sounds familiar but is pretty fade out, so he can't really be sure, and then “This angle is kinda…”

That's him.

That's his voice.

“Hot,” the voice continues before he can rewind.

“You can't tell me I'm mean anymore. I'm spoiling you,” his own voice travels again on his headphones. “I'm giving you this view and I'm giving you what's probably the thing you all ask the most: hands.”

What is this? Some kind of joke?

Did Jungkook put them up to this?

“I hate him. I'm gonna sue him,”

That gets a laugh from him, even if he is still confused about what is happening.

Maybe it's just his imagination?

Should he ask his friend?

More movement of fabric. Maybe bed sheets or clothes. More breathing, a bit faster than last time and then, a groan.

He can leave that in.

Wait, that's right. He is supposed to be editing this. He has to go back and…

“This angle is kinda…” his voice says and he hits pause. Is really him. Is that possible?

He feels like he is imagining things.

“Jungkook, I swear if this is some kind of joke or something,” he rambles taking his phone out.

Yoongi: did you listen to it?

JK: no, didn't have time JK: why? something wrong? JK: don't tell me it can't be used JK: she is gonna be sad :(

Yoongi: who is she?

JK: dunno if i can tell you

Yoongi: technically I'm doing a favor for her. I think is fair

JK: good point JK: is afterhours(y/n)

He opens a new tap on his laptop, goes to the website and searches for the username through his followers. And sure enough there it is. Subscribed a month ago.

He clicks to see your perfil. The first post he can see without being subscribed is a picture of a lilac lingerie set on a bed with the caption “very early birthday present”, from a week ago.

He considers subscribing to see more, but he stops himself from clicking, remembering Jungkook didn't even want to tell him who you were. Oh, shit. What would you do if you knew it was him editing your audio? Would you back out? Or be sad?

Now it feels kind of wrong, like if he were invading your privacy.

He clicks around on his computer again, audio track back to the zero seconds mark. He hears the “hi” and the giggles and stops it before his voice appears.

“Okay, this is going to be posted. It was recorded with the intention of being posted for people to hear,” he reasons. “If it's not posted I'd just forget about it and if it is… I'd… subscribe? To make up for listening?”

Clearly that part is not completely made up on his mind, but he doesn't have to decide what to do right now, he has to finish editing. And so, Yoongi clicks around the software again, cutting and deleting another section, the one where you can hear his voice and even his music before.

That's it. It was a familiar track because it is his. He composed that himself to put in the background of his videos exclusively. He figured putting his own touch would help if something was posted outside his page, never imagining hearing it in the background of someone else's video or audio was even possible.

It shouldn't affect him this much. After all, people touching themselves to his videos is half the reason he likes making them. What can he say? Is a turn on to have that effect on others, it builds his confidence up.

But actually hearing it is different.

Groan and fabric moving, a bit too close to the mic he considers doing something about it, but “I want you to touch me,” is the perfect whisper. Just the right volume, just the right words.

No more audio of SugaD can be heard now, you probably turn down the volume of the video or pause it. Yoongi is curious about it. The idea of your sounds being a reaction to his past self is doing things to him, and Yoongi would like to ignore them before getting too distracted, but is kind of a boomer not knowing exactly what your reactions are for.

Maybe he can open his video, it wouldn't be hard for him to synchronized it with your audio and—

No.

That would cross the line. Is enough that he—

“Are you hard?” your voice continues, timidly he thinks.

Is this your first time doing this? That's why you couldn't edit yourself?

What would you do if you knew he was listening and his dick was calling for attention at all your little sounds?

He stops your recording, considers taking a break, going back to bed. But he knows just forgetting about this would be hard and in the end he would have to come back and finish helping.

He unpaused it.

More moans echo throughout his headphones and he fixes them on top of his head, as if that would help him concentrate. You just sound so pretty, and when you plead he wants to give you anything you ask for, his dick twitching with desire.

He could just— no. That'll be wrong. Is enough he is letting it affect him this much, he can't just—

His leg bounces under his desk, hand glue to his mouse even when he is just listening now. Only stopping and going back a couple times to fix the volume of background noise, making it less or more obvious depending on the flow or your moans.

A groan of his own cuts the silence in his studio when you form words again. “It feels so good, oh god.” And Yoongi wishes he knew what. Wishes he could see you, could touch you. Could make you sound and feel that good in person.

“Uh uh,” short moans leave your lips, and it sounds so much like you're agreeing with his thoughts he really considers sneaking a hand down his pants. Allow his mind to wander and imagine what you would look like under him. Or on top. Or just coming undone by him.

But he doesn't. He just listens to your recording, your breathing, your pleas and your cut out warning when you cum.

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi angrily whispers. And for a second he considers doing the SugaD special of cutting it out of the final audio, but that's too selfish.

Or perhaps is more selfish leaving it. Considering he wants the world to hear how you sound when listening to him.

Yoongi managed to leave the studio without touching himself. But is not really as impressive as it sounds since his hand is on his dick the minute he goes back to bed after listening to the final edit of your audio one last time. The excuse of being just to make sure is perfect is just that, an excuse. And your pretty sounds replay on his head while he jerks off until orgasm.

JK: thank youuuu JK: she says thank you too!

Does that mean you know he was the one editing it?

He opens the app on his phone, looks for your perfil again and debates a couple minutes his options.

What's the worst that can happen? You blocking him? He would understand, but if he actually doesn't do anything, doesn't play his chance, he wouldn't forgive himself.

And so, he subscribes. Page refreshes instantly and a new post greets him.

[ afterhours(y/n):

Surprise, surprise. Is my birthday month but I keep spoiling you, ain't I the best? 😝

[ VoiceReveal.mp3 ]

]

Doesn't even have to listen to it, his fingers move on their own, “the cutest”, he comments.

♡ Tag list: @m00njinnie , @sexytholland , @seoullove96 , @thelilbutifulthings , @disneyprincessshuri ,

( is hereee! I appreciate u guys hehe <3 ) ( if anyone else wants to be tagged in the future, let me know )

➪ Part one. | ➪ Part three. | ➪ Updates for this verse | ➪ Ko-fi

➪ Main masterlist. | ➪ Updates in general | ➪ Request & chats ♡

#( writing. )#( reveal )#( reveal: editing )#min yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #min yoongi fic #min yoongi fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi x f!reader #yooglefics

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wutheringmights · 6 months

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After I finished reading The Epic of Gilgamesh today, I entered a fugue state where I sat down and read the entirety of Alanna: The First Adventure by Tamora Pierce.

On the record, I have had a lifelong love and adoration for Pierce's Tortall books. I first read the Song of the Lioness quartet when I was 11, and they rewrote my brain. I love them so much. I reread them and the other Tortall books on a semi-frequent schedule.

It's been a while since I reread any of the Alanna books, if only because my sister took our shared copies when she moved out. I've been meaning to buy my own set for a long while now but haven't been able to justify the purchase. The other week, I just so happened to find the first two volumes at my local indie bookstore. I bought them immediately, as well as ordered the third and fourth book. (And discovered that the store owner knows me by name-- when I went to pick up my order, she saw me and said, Hi Frankie! I got your books over here.) (I may be spending too much money there.)

So I have been in a bit of an emotional rut these past few weeks. Work sucks. Life stinks. The temptation to run off to Tortall and curl up in the fantasy story that captivated me as a kid has never been stronger.

Ergo, I ran off to read the first book as soon as I could.

If you're looking for any critique of this book, series, or Tortall in general, I will never give it. Sure, it's problematic and dated, and in many ways imperfect, but someone else can list out all of its issues. They're all perfect to me.

Anyway, the book. I should say something about this book in particular.

One thing I appreciate about Pierce's writing is how she handles school settings in fantasy. Learning and training is so mundane. All of her heroines have to work hard and put in extra hours of study in order to improve, much less keep up with their peers. It's so normal that it circles around to being weirdly refreshing.

Also, there is still no other fantasy author who handles period talk and birth control the way Pierce does. We make fun of the trope of fantasy birth control nowadays, but I rarely see it presented as it is here: as a part of normal puberty lessons and given long before sex is in the girl's radar. And even today with the glut of YA fantasy stories out there, I still have yet to see menstruation be portrayed as frequently or as bluntly as Pierce writes it.

There was a period of time publishers really tried to push the Tortall books as straight YA, which doesn't work for that reason alone. You gotta market them to middle schoolers. They're the ones just starting puberty talks, and getting scenes like this is so good for their brains.

Moving on: I fucking love these characters. Alanna was an icon of brash, temperamental heroines that have shaped my taste to this day. I love how even in the first book, Jon is kinda shitty. I adore George Cooper. Talk about a taste maker the way this man sets a standard.

I just can't be coherent when it comes to any Tortall books. I have no thoughts. Head empty. I am going to binge the rest of this series as quickly as I can before my library book comes in. Then normal book content will resume.

Before I go, I need to talk about the book covers.

Growing up, my sister and I had these covers:

Which, god. I love them. The black is striking. The art is incredible. Alanna looks so good. They were the perfect pocket-size too. I was going to buy the same edition for my copies, but instead I got the 40th anniversary reprints:

Not bad at all! These books have had some seriously bad covers, and these look great! Very anime, which will appeal to the 11 year olds who need to have their socks rocked by this series.

But, man. I really miss those black covers. One day I will splurge and buy a second set of them just so that I can stare at the art.

#having a not normal time on tumblr dot come right now #alanna my beloved #if you were a deity i would worship you #me rambling #me reading #bookish #books and reading #books #bookblr #Alanna: the first adventure #the song of the lioness #tortall #tamora pierce

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coffee-and-tea-time · 4 months

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ᯓও Wish I was your safe space…

Hi, coffee speaking! This is a comfort drabble about a kind of tsundere yandere and a reader who went non verbal, I'm not really used to writing tsun in yanderes but I think it ends up well.

Hello, there! Tea speaking! It's been a while, hasn't it? I've been a bit busy with college stuff and whatnot, I'll be sure to edit and make some more stuff once i have a break (I'm dying with all these assignments)

Tw: yandere behavior, swearing, somewhat willing reader, established relationship?, anxiety, nonverbal reader due to burnout, hints of safe food/drink, general comfort and fluff, it's a tsundere-yandere but protective so yeh…

"Why aren't you replying to my messages?"

You get surprised at the sight of those bright yellow eyes on you as he gets closer, his voice sounds like something between annoyed and worried. It also appears that he already managed to get a copy of your house keys

"..."

"Why aren't you saying anything to me? How can you manage to get hurt in the blink of my eye?"

You slightly shake your head, wondering what you could do to make him understand, your head goes a million thoughts per second, fearing to upset him due to being nonverbal at the moment, your breath quickens a bit… until a warm and tender touch on your check steals your attention.

"You don't seem like you have a fever or injuries, is this the 'battery' thing you told me about?"

You nod, relieved that he seems to understand what is going on. He then sits on the bed right beside you and holds you in a semi hug, as if you're gonna fly away or something.

"It's okay, you don't need to talk, you just need to be here and exist with me… I will stay right besides you, I won't let anything come in your way, you need a proper rest right now, I'm gonna make sure you take it and if you rather me not being here, then, sucks to be you, I will stay and make sure you don't die or something"

Despiste his words that make you kinda want to punch his stupid pretty face, it also feels nice to be cared for, although not with the best word choice, it's clear that he cares when you feel his hand shake a little as he holds you gently, he must've gotten worried and run here without missing a beat, it's almost sweet enough for you to forget to ask yourself how he got inside your home in the first place.

"I will order some of your favorites, lay down on bed while I go get some water for you, I'm not that dumb not to guess your schedule must be fucked up right now"

You were about to fight back but he gently pushed you down onto the bed again.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. you don't like being ordered around and bla bla bla but when you feel like the energy is drained out of your body, it means that you really are forced to have a rest"

You really can't fight back that logic, although part of your brain is worried about being a burden, you decide to let yourself indulge him for a bit as you watch him leave the room, probably going straight to the kitchen; Now that you think about it, he did say he would order some of your favorites, does he really already know your taste on food? Well, guess you will find out soon.

"Here, I got some water, the food will be here in about half an hour, it's good that I brought this with me before coming here"

As you put your gaze on him, you notice he's holding a glass of water in one hand and your favorite drink in the other, you instantly reach to grab it like a desperate dehydrated man in the desert who just found an oasis.

"Nope, not so fast, hun"

You return your focus on him as a frustrated frown appears on your face.

"First the water, then you can have your special drink"

Reluctantly, you drank the water since there's not really much of an option and you truly need that drink.

"Huh... It's weird and a relief that you didn't kick me for saying that or tried to grab the drink anyways, well done, honey"

You do a little happy huff as you grab your precious prize just as he sits beside you on the bed to quietly pat your back.

"You know? I'm aware this is close to a story you tell the police about rather that something romantic but, even if you find it unsettling, I want you to know that I care for you, even if it seems like it takes just a second for something to happen to you, I hope to be here every single time"

A feeling of a faint kiss meets your forehead.

"You're a disaster, but you're my disaster, dummy"

Even if you think of hitting him for saying that, a stupid smile creeps on your lips.

bzzzt

"Oh, that it's my phone, should be the food. we will eat first and then come back to cuddles"

He stands up and just when he is about to leave the room to go get the door.

"Oh, and don't think for a moment you will be free from me, I'm gonna make sure you get better"

That sounded more threatening than it needed to, but it didn't sound that bad…

sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣

Images from pinterest

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icaruskey · 1 year

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Fuck artist statements let's have some time loop and dangerous Moon @pillowspace

(coming back to this two days later and I'm still using this to avoid editing my artist statement rip)

Uh let's see, there's death again. This time it's not so explicitly written out but it's also suicide-ish so.

You've learned the hard way that Moon is dangerous.

It's hard to explain, the disconnect you had before. Maybe it's because the first time you rarely saw him, the generators in the daycare keeping him away and you, the obedient, oblivious worker, keeping to your schedule until the very end.

You had thought that first time maybe you'd died from the smoke. You'd been rather dumb, in hindsight, racing towards the fire when you realized the pizzaplex was on fire, looking for the attendant. They're an animatronic, so they theoretically would be fine right? Maybe the fabric of their costume would burn, but how hot would a fire have to be to melt steel?

Sometimes, when you struggle to sleep, you find yourself wondering about the other loops. Did you leave these timelines and move onto a new one, like a snake shedding its skin? Were there other yous left lying on a cold metal table in a cold tiled room for your family to identify? Did it hurt to die and your mind was just preventing you from remembering?

They're not thoughts you like very much, as you would start to ache like your body was remembering the ways you died. Warm metal fingers curling around your throat.

You sleep with the hall light on now, when those thoughts come up.

Currently though, you stand at the edge of a pool of light left by a lone pendant swinging overhead. You can see the red LED dots of Moon's eyes as he crouches just out of sight, watching you, and your throat starts to hurt.

"Can't we talk?" you plead, but other than the soft jingle of bells, there's no reply. You continue anyway, willing yourself to see through the darkness. "You weren't like this when we met Moon." That first time, times, before something in him snaps. "What happens to you? What changes?"

"Quiet now." Moon's hand grabs at the tightly knitted texture of your sweater, pulling the thick wool loose as you jerk back in shock. Your eyes dart to the red dots in the distance. Oh, oh, oh no, you'd been watching some sort of motion sensor or whatever, not Moon.

Your throat hurts from an unvoiced scream. You grab at your sleeve, feeling the ruined wool. Moon lingers at the edge of the light, constantly moving, squatting so he's almost shorter than you, swaying. It's silly, how he moves, and it almost makes you smile.

"I don't want to be quiet Moon. I want to help you." You wish you could read the animatronics better, but Moon had even less expressiveness than his daytime counterpart, and when he was like this, you weren't sure there really was anything to read at all. "I'm starting to think maybe that's why I'm still here."

"Still here because you're a rulebreaker and need to go to sleep." You heard once that Moon used to play the villain at the theater. As he hisses out words that by any reasonable measure should not be hissable, you can see why. Worse though, is him returning into the darkness, quite literally rolling away in a backflip. You can't see him, and you ignore those red dots because that's not Moon dammit.

"I definitely need a nap," you agree, scanning the room, trying to make out where Moon's bells are. "But I don't think you'll actually put me to sleep." Pause. "Moon? The kids in those posters. A couple of them were at the daycare. What... what did you do to them?"

"They were naughty and had to be punished."

There's a creaking overhead and you look up in time to see the pendant swing widely before you jump out of the way, the metal and glass structure crashing to the ground as the light went out with a pop. You don't quite make the tuck and roll like you'd hoped, and you sit up slowly, nursing your ankle as you try to stand and immediately drop down again. A sprain, probably. But there was no way you could run right now.

You pat your pockets down instead, fumbling for your phone, a lighter, some source of light, but a hand grabs the back of your shirt and you're hoisted in the air, unable to wiggle free from both the speed and the clumps of hair trapped in Moon's grip. If you move your head, it feels like you're being scalped. You kick out in vain, dropping your phone to grab at Moon's arm. "Moon! Let go!"

"No." He shakes you, and that hurts as hair is ripped out and your head flops uselessly back and forth. You grab at his arm again as he begins to move, almost dancing through the air. You'd been nearish the atrium before, but now he's taking you deeper inside. "She says you need to be punished."

"She?" You stop struggling. This is new. "Who is she?" But Moon doesn't answer. His grip tightens against your back and you find yourself staring up at him.

Moon is harder to read than Sun, and definitely harder to read than the other, more expressive glamrocks. But even in the dark, you could swear that right now he's... sad? Resigned?

Maybe he didn't want to do this either. You look down. The fall is a good thirty, maybe forty feet. Okay. "I know you don't want to do this Moon," you say softly, and he doesn't look at you. "That's okay. I'll figure this out next time."

"Wha--"

You wiggle free of your sweater to fall, staring up at Moon as he stares down at you, immobilized in shock. That's the last thing you see before your back hits a bannister, and there's fireworks in your mind and then blackness.

The quiet screech of your phone's alarm wakes you from sleep. You're curled up like some sort of hibernating bear, twisted in the blankets piled on your bed. One hand finds your phone and silences it. You know where you're at and when. Your back and foot throb when you try to remember why. You remember talking to Moon.

There's a she involved now. Who is she? Maybe she was the key to solving the loops.

You don't remember falling, just not wanting to put Moon through anymore pain. Maybe this would be the loop to end it, to break all of you free. You sure hope so.

But for now, you're going to spend a few more minutes curled up and safe, just until you're ready to face the day.

#time loop au #okay I guess I'll actually do grad school work now #I did some light editing since I was working on this originally friday and the internet went out #i thought it got deleted entirely!

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toournextadventure · 2 years

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everyone but her pt.4

a/n: i have no posting or writing schedule fyi. but here we go, we're truckin through. EDIT: previously titled perfect date

Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: swearing, mentions of an autopsy, descriptions of a dead body (not graphic) Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Reader (Masterlist)

“Crackstone’s Crypt is overrated,” you groaned, throwing yourself onto Enid’s bed. “It’s gotta be somewhere else.”

“Nowhere else is creepy,” Enid said with a shrug. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“It’s not good enough,” you mumbled more to yourself than to her.

“Just go somewhere else,” Enid offered when you didn’t say anything else.

“I can’t,” you whined. “It has to be perfect.”

You pushed yourself off the bed and up onto your feet. With Wednesday out of the room, you had let your wings free and they shook as you started pacing. Enid had to admit, she rarely saw you this stressed out. You didn’t even freak out like this over finals, and everyone knew you should have been. And yet, somehow asking Wednesday Addams out on a date was going to drive you up the wall.

“It’s not supposed to be stressing you out this bad,” Enid said once you completed your fifth lap around the room.

“I’m not stressed, I’m devastated,” you said, stopping for just long enough to look at her. “I haven’t even asked her out yet and I’m already out of ideas.”

“Then we’ll brainstorm,” Enid said in as chipper of a voice as she could manage. She sat down cross-legged on her bed and started thinking. “What about visiting Nicky?”

“Out of the question,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Wednesday would love it-”

“-Nicky’s off limits.” Your hands shook as you lifted them to rub your face. There was a glassiness creeping over your eyes as you shook your head. “I’m not ready.”

“Okay,” Enid said softly; you knew she had meant no harm, but she still regretted the suggestion anyway. “Then what else would be enough for Wednesday Addams?”

You both looked at each other dejectedly. Enid had agreed that something creepy would have been an excellent idea. You both knew she enjoyed autopsies, torture, and the occasional murder. None of those, however, were legal, so they were off the table. Who knew this was going to be so difficult?

“Are you sure they’re not coming back soon?” You asked as you gestured to Wednesday’s side of the room.

“She and Thing are at a hummer’s meeting,” Enid said with a shrug. She hadn’t asked questions because, quite frankly, she didn’t really care.

“A meeting?” You asked, turning your head back to look at Enid with furrowed brows. “But I wasn’t invited.”

“Are you a hummer?” Enid asked.

“I thought I was,” you mumbled. “Well now that’s just rude.” You turned back to look at Wednesday’s bed with a frown. Your feathers ruffled with your frustration.

“Y/N, focus,” Enid said with a snap of her fingers. “Date ideas.”

“Oh yeah,” you said, “let’s see.” You spun on your heels and started pacing the floor once again. “Wednesday… black… spooky…” Enid smiled to herself as the gears continued turning in your head. “Gothic… Victorian… old…” You sighed loudly and shook your head. “Abandoned… decrepit- Gate’s Mansion!” You shouted, turning quickly and pointing your finger at Enid.

“Great word association,” Enid said with a tight-lipped smile, “but you might get arrested for trespassing.”

“I bet she’d love it,” you shrugged.

“I don’t have enough bail money for the both of you,” Enid said with a sigh.

“That’s okay! You bail out Wednesday.” You looked off into the distance. “I bet I can convince Principle Weems to bail me out.”

“Okay!” Enid said, causing you to flinch and look back at her. “Next step, how are you finding a body?” You can’t just make one.”

“No, that’ s murder.” You cocked one hip and lifted your left hand to your face, rubbing your chin as you thought. “But homicide-”

“-absolutely not.”

“Fine, we’ll just dig one up,” you said with a huff. “She likes gravedigging.”

“How do you even know that?” Enid asked.

“She told me during tutoring one night.”

“You know what, I’m not questioning it anymore,” Enid said with a shake of her head. The fact that you weren’t disturbed even a little bit by Wednesday’s… hobbies just further proved her belief that you two were perfect for each other.

“Then it’s settled,” you said with a nod to yourself. “We dig up a body, take it to the basement in Gates’ Mansion, she gets to perform her autopsy, and it turns into the best date she’s ever had. No murder involved.” You smiled to yourself. “Thanks for the help, Enid.” You made your way to the door, not even gracing her with a goodbye.

Wait.

“Or homicide,” Enid chimed in before you could finish stepping out of the door.

“You’re a killjoy, Sinclair,” you said as you leaned back in. “What about involuntary manslaughter-”

“-no!”

—---

You had asked her on a date. You hadn’t used that exact word, but that’s what you were asking. You’re going out with me tomorrow, you had said before walking off before she could even answer. Every nerve in your body had been on fire, you couldn’t have waited to see if she would say no. Pretty brave, you would say.

But now you were standing beside a now-open grave, getting soaked to the bone from the rain, and watching as Wednesday continued to dig deeper and deeper. She wasn’t smiling - because why would she? - but it was clear she was having the time of her life. Never had you seen her move so energetically.

“Found you,” Wednesday said. She lifted the lid of the coffin to stare into the fairly fresh body within. “Can you carry him?”

“It would be my pleasure,” you said as you hopped into the grave. Don't be a baby, you thought when your knee ached upon landing.

Even though you were more than happy to be there with Wednesday, you weren’t as big of a fan of dead bodies. Maybe it was the trauma. It’s common fucking sense, you moron, your inner voice argued. No, it was definitely the trauma.

Wednesday stood back and made room for you as you bent down to haul the body over your shoulder. She warned you to be careful with it so it didn’t stretch too much; your stomach rolled at the thought of it stretching in your hands. You swallowed the bile rising in your throat and held on to the body tightly, urging Wednesday out of the grave so she could help pull you up. Well, she tried to help pull you up; truthfully she was no help at all.

"Where to?" Wednesday asked, her eyes wide as she studied the body that you were desperately trying not to focus on.

"Short walk from here," you said and gestured your head in the direction of the mansion. God, the smell of this body was horrendous.

It was a silent walk; with Wednesday it normally was. The only true sound was the rain continuing to pour all around you. Your footsteps were drowned out by the squelching of mud, but it was almost comforting. Truthfully, it reminded you of home.

As soon as the Mansion was in sight, Wednesday's head snapped in your direction. There was a spark of joy in her dark eyes that wasn't unlike that of a child in a candy store. You kept your mouth shut but gestured toward the gates, and she practically ran over to pick the padlock while you trudged the rest of the way.

"Hurry up," you called out once you walked through the gate. "He's getting heavy."

She gave you that murderous stare that you liked so much, but led the way to the side of the house where a single door was located. It was locked; no surprise there. Your eyes trailed down to her boot when she bent down, taking something out of it and getting to work on a door.

“Do you always keep a lockpick with you?” You asked as she continued to work on the lock.

“Of course,” she answered. “You never know when you might need one.”

“Right, right.”

She pushed the door open after only a few more seconds of maneuvering. It was impressive, truly, the way her small lithe fingers could work a lock in less than a minute. But you didn’t stop to think about it before rushing inside to get out of the rain, lightening accentuating the atmosphere when Wednesday closed the door.

“Oh this is creepy,” you mumbled as you walked down the hallway.

You had no idea where anything was in this stupid house. When you had staked it out and brought everything, you had managed to slip through a small window to the basement. Not once had you actually surveyed the layout, so it could take ages before you found out where to go.

“Why do people live in places this big?” You asked when you looked into the fifth cobweb-filled room.

“The Addams mansion is bigger,” Wednesday mused, making you flinch when she silently appeared beside you.

“How do you remember where anything is?” You asked again. She started walking away and you followed behind her.

“Because it’s my home,” she answered.

Of course, you thought with a mocking shake of your head. The body on your shoulders shifted, sliding further down your back and pressing down painfully on your wings. With a grunt, you hoisted it up higher, easing as much pressure as you could and making the weight a little lighter on your legs. For a dead body, he was awfully heavy.

“Find the basement,” you said with a huff. “I’m about to drop him.”

Wednesday nodded at you once before using her sleuthing skills to find the stairs. Watching her work, even just to find something, truly amazed you. The slight tilt of her head when she was thinking, the movement of her eyes betraying her thoughts and emotions, the very methodical way she went through her thoughts. It was all enough to distract you from the burning muscles in your arms and legs.

“This way,” Wednesday called, and youfinally got moving.

Your legs protested, but you trudged your way to where she was standing. Looking down the stairs was probably your first mistake of the night. Digging up a body wasn’t? Your inner voice asked. It was pitch black down there and the stairs looked like they would break if a speck of dust landed on them. You had two bodies’ worth of weight, what if you fell through?

“I’ll go first,” Wednesday said after most likely noticing your hesitation.

“No, I got it,” you said quickly. No way in hell were you going to seem afraid in front of Wednesday Addams.

You took a deep breath in, then essentially fell onto the first step. It creaked, but stayed intact. With a few small nods to yourself, you continued moving. Your feet hit the wood hard with each step, your muscles telling you to stop or they would let you fall down the stairs. But you kept it up, focusing instead on Wednesday’s boots behind you.

When your feet hit the solid floor, you let out a sigh of relief. The hard part was done, and now the real fun could begin. At least, it would if you could find the lights…

The switch flipped and light flooded the room.

“What’s all this?” Wednesday asked, and you turned to face her with a smile as you could finally explain your plans.

“It’s an autopsy da- um.” You looked away. “Party.” Now that’s just stupid.

“For me?” Wednesday asked, looking up at you. Her eyes were wide and her lips were parted ever so slightly; she was surprised.

“Well, you took me birdwatching, so.” You shrugged. “And it’s not like I’d dig up a body for no good reason.”

You walked over to the metal table you had moved to the center of the room and finally, finally placed the body down on it. Even with the body off of your shoulders, you could still feel its weight. The decomposition had stained your shirt and you just knew you would never get it out. Dammit, you liked that shirt…

“Are you going to join?” Wednesday asked as she stood beside you, looking down at the body with a joy that you rarely if ever saw.

“I’ll just be your assistant,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “Wouldn’t want to ruin your experience.”

She turned to face you quickly, the smallest fraction of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. You inhaled sharply as your heart stuttered in your chest. She didn’t even truly smile at you and your heart felt like it was going to explode. You turned around quickly. If she kept looking at you like that, you were going to give her a fresh body to perform her autopsy on.

“Want some?” You asked as you held the Vick’s vaporub out to her.

“No need,” Wednesday said as she turned back to the body. “I enjoy the smell.”

“Well I’m using it,” you mumbled to yourself as you scooped out a generous amount and smeared it underneath your nose. It helped, but by no means did it erase the smell still clinging to your clothes.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Wednesday asked, that miniscule smile appearing on her lips again and a crack of thunder as added theatrics.

Oh, tonight was going to kill you.

—---

“Good night, Wednesday.”

Enid sat up as soon as she heard your voice from the other side of the door. Her phone read 11:29pm; you had both missed curfew. Did that mean the date had gone well? Wait, neither one of you had used the word. Did the outing go well? Surely it had, nothing was more tailormade for Wednesday than this.

“Good night.”

She didn’t even pretend to be asleep when Wednesday finally came back into the room. Her movements stuttered when she saw Enid sitting there, staring at her with enough excitement that she felt she was going to explode. This was going to be the best night ever.

“Did you have a nice night?” Enid asked immediately.

Any normal person would have thought it had gone bad. After all, Wednesday was soaked to the bone, coated in mud and grime and… other things, and smelled like a dead body. By Enid’s standards, it would have been the biggest disaster in the entire history of the world. But for Wednesday?

“It was adequate,” she answered.

She immediately went to her closet and grabbed her pyjamas before heading to the bathroom to get cleaned up and ready for bed. But Enid saw the darkening of her cheeks and the small pull at the corner of her lips before she closed the bathroom door. Thing gestured to Wednesday, and Enid nodded in agreement.

“Our ship is sailing,” she said with a smile, giving Thing a fistbump.

Oh yeah. This was going to be amazing.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams

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toomuchracket · 10 months

Text

all i want for christmas (birthday party!matty x reader fluff)

back from the dead (a depressive episode) with a fluffy pre-dating fic that's honestly longer than it needs to be. whatever. it's christmas. this fic is also part of christmas75/twelve days of christmas, organised and curated by my lovely friend @abiiors. hope you all enjoy <3

wednesday, 3:34am

as soon as the “email sent” pop-up appears, you feebly close your laptop and lay your head on the desk, ready to finally give in to the sleep that's been edging ever closer to your eyelids for the past hour. but before you get the chance, your phone buzzes with an incoming notification, the vibrations rattling through the wood of the desk and into your skull.

swearing, your voice scratchy with underuse, you open one eye and tilt the screen towards you - the name it bears above the unread text makes you shoot back up to a sitting position, and knocks all traces of grumpiness and tiredness from your brain and body.

matty.

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip!

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock.

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet.

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply.

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

“well, we'll soon find out, i'm sure.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #into the birthday partyverse #christmas75 #matty healy fanfiction #matty healy fanfic #matty healy fic #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty x reader

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