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imaginespazzi · 13 days ago

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Part 13: If You Stay

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

And I find it bittersweet (cause you gave me something to lose)

(In which, an all over the place writer, writes an all over the place chapter)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst with some Hurt/Comfort and a little bit of Fluff

Words: 13.1K

TW: Swearing, Slightly Suggestive Content, Mentions of Divorce, Drinking

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 So clearly that 48 to 72 hours deadline completely evaded me but here I am! I've always gotten asks about how many chapters GH will be and normally it's an estimate but I can almost for certain say that after this one, there will be two more chapters. This part is, like I said, a little all over the place as I start to tie in loose ends and bring everything together but it's pretty important as we start our journey to the end. This isn't particularly well-edited because as well know I hate editing but I eventually will go back and edit so any typos/errors you see are much-appreciated. As always, your live reacts give me life, so let me know what you liked, what you didn't and what you'd like to see next. Have a lovely weekend my loves <3

May 2033

Paige wakes up alone to an empty bed. Her eyes open to the feel of her fingers reaching out and finding nothing but the soft material of her crinkled bedsheets. She stares at the empty space, gaze fixated on the way the sunlight hits the exact spot Azzi had been curled up in and lets her mind wander back to yesterday -god everything had been fine just 24 hours ago- when the rays of sunshine coming through the window had cast lines of gold across the brunette’s face. It wasn’t often that Paige woke up before Azzi, but for some reason she had yesterday. Maybe it was the universe’s way of giving her one last chance to memorize an image that she’s not sure when she’ll be able to see again. Paige traces her hands along the linen, blinking back tears, and she swears she can still feel the heat of Stephie and Azzi’s bodies radiating off of it. It’s unfair, she knows, to expect them to have stayed when it’s the one thing she herself can’t commit to doing but still, that awareness does little to dull the ache reverberating through her chest.

Sighing to herself, Paige shifts onto her back, turning away from the empty space that almost feels taunting. She gives herself a minute, taking deep breaths to chase away the erraticness in her heartbeat and the moisture in her eyes before finally sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Her eyebrows knit together when she notices the bag in the corner -the pink duffel Azzi had packed for last night- and she almost gasps. It wasn’t like Azzi to forget her stuff, even when escaping. And then she hears it, the familiar giggles of a little girl echoing from her kitchen and Paige feels her heart break and fix itself at the same time.

They’d stayed.

Paige flings the covers off of herself, making it from the guest bedroom to the stairs in record time. She almost slips on the fifth step as she races down the stairs, every part of her alight with the need to just see Stephie and Azzi. Her feet skid to a halt before the kitchen doorway and her breath catches in her lungs, hand immediately clutching at her chest as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s the three most important people in her life gathered around the kitchen counter. Azzi’s flipping pancakes, a soft grin on her face as she listens to Drew and Stephie -both of them already with a stack of pancakes on their respective plates- who are animatedly arguing about whether bananas or chocolate chips go better with pancakes.

“Come on Uncle Drew,” Stephie drawls, “choc-chips are the best-est-est-est and ‘nanas are boooooring.”

“Bananas are not boring,” Drew counters, his voice filled with dramatic offense, “you can mash them in the pancake or eat them on the side or on top of the stack. Bananas are versatile.”

Stephie scrunches her nose and Paige smiles as the little girl gives her brother a pointed look, “I don’t know what vers-a-tile means so that doesn’t even matter to me.”

Azzi snorts, “I don’t think that’s how that works Stephie-bean.”

“Does too,” Stephie pouts and then juts her fork out at Drew, “here Uncle Drew, try it and you’ll see choc-chips are so much better than that,” she looks disdainfully at the young man’s plate.

Drew dutifully accepts the bite of food, chewing it at an exaggeratedly slow pace as he pretends to contemplate how he feels about it.

“I mean it’s not bad,” he says finally, before a smirk breaks out on his lips, “but banana’s clear.”

“Nah, I don’t know about that,” Paige says, finally making her presence known as she walks over to Stephie’s side, “You’re both wrong. Blueberries are better with pancakes than both bananas and chocolate chips,” she reaches out to ruffle Stephie’s hair, smile faltering when the little girl dodges her hand, “Steph-”

“Mama,” gone is the happy child that had been casually bantering with Drew; Stephie’s face is ashen with the remnants of her emotions from last night as she shifts herself as far away from Paige as possible, “I wanna go home.”

Her words feel like a needle, pricking against the bubble of delusion Paige had created mere seconds ago; the wishful thought that maybe they could ignore what had happened last night, that they could just close the lid on the jar of darkness they’d opened and pretend the obsidian hadn’t slipped out, clouding the paradise they’d built before. And maybe that’s Paige’s problem. Avoidance. She’d pushed herself towards Stephie and Azzi, acting like there wasn’t a harness -bound together with the ropes of all the grievances, all the fears, that the past had left in her- and now she was stuck. So close to reaching them but unable to finally get there.

Azzi’s eyes flicker conflictedly between Paige’s ashen face and Stephie’s stormy one, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, “you’ve still got some more left on your plate Stephie-bean,”

“I don’t want the rest,” Stephie says adamantly, pushing the plate away from her, “I’m not hungry anymore.”

“Stephie we don’t waste food,” Azzi says it like it’s a reprimand but Paige knows it’s for her sake, to give her more time with Stephie, and a mix of guilt and gratefulness pools in her stomach as she fights the urge to pull the younger woman into her arms and kiss away the stress lines that have formed on her forehead in the last 24 hours.

“Then pack it and we can take it home,” Stephie slides off the counter, tiny arms crossing over her chest as she looks at her mother with pleading eyes, “please Mama, I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

“Stephie-” Paige tries to say, reaching out once again for the little girl.

“Excuse me Coach Bueckers,” Stephie sidesteps the older woman, her voice far colder than a little girl’s voice should be -far colder than anything she’s ever used with her Miss Buecks- and it feels like shards of ice prodding against Paige’s heart.

“Stephie please-”

The little girl refuses to meet her gaze but Paige notices the way her eyes glance towards her for the briefest moment, like she wants nothing more than to turn around and fling herself at the older woman. But the look is gone as quick as it came and Stephie’s face hardens -and Paige hates herself for being the reason why- as she looks at her mother.

“Please can we go home now Mama?”

Azzi sighs, “yeah bean, we can go home. Unless-” she hesitates, eyes locking with Paige’s, “unless- maybe Miss Buecks has a reason we should stay?”

And Paige knows this is Azzi giving her one last chance, one last opportunity to say the right things, to keep Stephie and Azzi with her. It’s why she hadn’t left this morning; she’d been waiting to see if Paige was ready. And all Paige has to do is open her mouth and make the promises that she couldn’t last night; shut the door on her escape plan -to New York and the Liberty- and she can open the one that leads to her perfect dream, that leads to a forever with Stephie and Azzi. But that’s the thing; what if forever doesn’t last? After all, the last time she’d trusted in it -trusted the same woman in front of her to be hers always- forever had turned out to be a myth. Paige isn’t ready. And so she averts Azzi’s gaze, keeps her mouth shut and looks away before she can see the hope disappear from the brunette’s face.

“Right,” Azzi swallows, “alright then uh -you’re right Stephie- we should- we should go home. You go wash your face and uh- Mama’s gonna go grab our stuff and then- then we can go.”

The last words make an indiscernible noise creak out of Paige’s lips as she watches Stephie make her way towards the bathroom. Azzi carefully flips the final pancake onto a plate -one with a stack of blueberry pancakes- before turning the stove off and beelining for the stairs towards the guest room. But Paige is quicker, curling her fingers around the younger woman’s wrist to keep her in place.

“Az,” she breathes out, unsure what to say- unsure what she even wants to say.

Azzi doesn’t look at her, “I ordered groceries.”

“What?”

“You didn’t have any food and I- I wanted to make pancakes,” Azzi explains, “but uh- I got more than just pancake stuff. There’s eggs and milk and that stupid cereal that you like and just- just basic groceries you know. And I know you don’t like veggies but I had to get some because they’re good for you Paige okay but don’t- don’t worry- I balanced it out with all those ridiculously unhealthy snacks you like.”

“Azzi,” Paige’s voice cracks, “you didn’t have to-”

“I did,” Azzi cuts her off, “you just- you can’t live off of fucking takeout okay,” a lone tear slides down her cheek, “and I got- I got enough groceries to last you two weeks but you- you’ll have to get more eventually if-” she stops herself but they both know where that sentence was going.

If you’re gonna live here- if you’re gonna live by yourself.

“I just-” Paige struggles to get the words out, “I need some more time.”

“I know,” Azzi finally looks at her and for a second Paige almost wishes she hadn’t because the hurt -the please just say you’ll stay- swimming in the younger woman’s eyes is almost too much to bear, “I know you need time and you- you can have it,” she brushes her thumb against Paige’s waterline, “but you can’t have both. You can’t have time and us.”

Why not, Paige wants to scream, wants to stomp her feet like a petulant toddler but she knows Azzi’s right, knows that they have to be apart until she figures it out. And so she nods at the brunette’s words as Azzi gently caresses her cheek -fingers lingering just a little longer than they should- before she rushes upstairs to grab her and Stephie’s overnight bag.

Paige watches her go before she disappears out of sight, and the blonde falls back against the counter. Closing her eyes as she takes in a couple of deep breaths, she swears the air has never felt more acidic. And she he can feel Drew looking at her, can almost see the contemplative -maybe even concerned- look in his eyes without opening her own.

“What?” she bites out, harsher than intended.

“Nothing,” Drew hesitates, “I just- I didn’t think Azzi would have stayed last night.”

Paige shrugs, eyes still closed, “I asked her to.”

“I figured but I- I guess I didn’t expect her to agree,” Drew says quietly.

There’s an undercurrent to her brother’s tone that has Paige finally opening her eyes, fixing him with a stern gaze, “what exactly are you trying to say Drew?”

“Nothing,” Drew repeats but the nervous shuffle of his feet say something entirely different.

“Drew.”

“She stayed Paige,” his voice breaks unexpectedly, “last night, this morning, she- she stayed.”

There’s a beat of silence as Paige stares at her brothers, absorbing his words when the unexpected flash of anger hits, “seriously?”

“What?” Drew’s taken aback by the fire in his sister's eyes.

“What do you mean what? One fucking stack of pancakes and suddenly all that shit you said to me last night- you don’t believe it anymore? All of that’s forgotten now?”

“That’s not-”

“Jesus fucking christ Drew,” Paige pinches the bridge of her nose and she’s fully aware her anger is misdirected -that it’s herself, she’s mad at- but she continues ranting at her brother anyways, “you made me overthink everything Drew. I was doing fine, we were doing fine and then- then you said all of that shit last night, reminded me of everything and now here we are the next morning and what? You’re not mad at Azzi anymore? She stays one fucking night and all is forgiven? You’ve changed your whole fucking mind-”

“You can’t blame me-” Drew begins to cut her off loudly but then there’s another voice -soft and small- interrupting both of them. They turn to see Stephie staring at them, her expression almost fearful at the sound of them arguing. And Paige hates herself a little bit for putting all these new expressions on the little girl’s face; she misses when she used to be the reason for her smile.

“That’s- that’s two bad words Miss-” Stephie stops herself, swallowing away the familiar name, “I mean- Coach Bueckers.”

“Sorry Stephie,” Paige whispers, pausing slightly before she takes a nervous step towards the girl, “so does that- does that mean I owe you two kisses?”

Stephie’s face wobbles, her bottom lip trembling as she nods slowly, “yeah you do.”

Paige breathes shakily as she kneels down in front of the little girl, eyes drinking in the sight of having her this close -like they know they might not get this moment again- as she slowly pulls her into her arms. Stephie is warm and soft and familiar and Paige wishes she would never have to let the little girl go. She squeezes her to her chest as she delicately places her lips against Stephies left cheek.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” she whispers against the little girl’s soft skin, hoping the child knows it isn’t just for the swearing before she presses another fluttering kiss against Stephie’s right cheek, “I’m so sorry.”

And then, just as Stephie’s about to pull out of her grasp, Paige stops her, pressing her lips to the little girl’s forehead. When she pulls back, Stephie’s staring at her with a confused look on her face.

“You only owed me two,” she says matter-of-factly, “what was the last one for?”

Paige gives the little girl a sad smile as she brushes away a strand of curly hair that had gotten loose from her ponytail, “just because you’re my Stephie-bean.”

Stephie stares at her and Paige can see a myriad of emotions flicker behind her tiny eyes. She opens her mouth, like she’s about to say something and Paige’s heart thumps in anticipation, but then the sound of Azzi’s footsteps coming down echoes from the stairs and Stephie pushes away from her. And suddenly, Paige feels empty, like the most vital parts of her are missing.

“You ready to go Stephie-bean?” Azzi asks, mustering on a brave voice for her daughter but Paige can hear the way it’s cracking, can tell from her red-rimmed eyes that she’d taken a little longer than necessary upstairs to fix herself.

“Yeah Mama,” Stephie takes her mother’s outstretched hand, “let’s go home.”

The walk through the foyer and outside towards Azzi car feels like it takes hours. Drew doesn’t come all the way, stopping at the front door and giving Stephie a quick high-five that draws a brief smile from the little girl. He doesn’t say anything to Azzi but there’s an underlying softness in the way he tips his head towards her as they nod at each other. And then it’s just the three of them and Paige swears they’re all walking just a little bit slower than they normally do, like they’re trying to savor this moment just a little longer and prolong the inevitable.

She leans against the side of the car as Azzi buckles Stephie into her carseat. The little girl keeps on her brave face, avoiding eye contact with both Paige and her mother as she focuses firmly in front of her. When Azzi closes the backdoor, Stephie’s face disappearing behind the tinted windows, Paige wants to scream. Everything in her feels like it’s burning and freezing at the same time.

Azzi hesitates as she’s about to get into the driver’s seat, biting her lip as she turns back towards Paige.

“You should know that I - that Stephie and I- we-” she pauses, like she’s scared to say the rest of it, “we want you- we want you forever Paige,” both of them suck in a deep breath as the confession looms in the air above them, “and I know you need time and you should take it,” Azzi says softly, her hand reaching almost halfway to caress Paige’s cheek before falling forlornly back to her sides, “but we can’t- we won’t wait forever.”

***

August 2031

Paige is normally a big fan of All-Star weekend; she relishes the chaos of the weekend, getting the opportunity to connect with her fellow peers in a way that wasn’t possible during the rest of the season and just didn’t quite happen at this level outside of it. But she’s definitely not a fan of it this year, considering it’s being held in her team’s city, in Dallas. Six years later and still, something about this city doesn’t quite feel right, doesn’t feel quite like a place she can call home.

But still, at least it had given her the chance to not have to be in her apartment this weekend. Unlike her teammates who were more than comfortable staying in their respective homes, Paige had taken up the WNBA’s offer to stay where the rest of the non-Wings players were staying. It’s ironic that the sterile walls of an unfamiliar hotel somehow feel more comforting than a home that’s supposed to be hers. Except, the apartment -the one she’d moved into after the divorce after giving Oliva their house in an act of goodwill- feels cold and empty and Paige has done little to rectify it. She pretends it’s because she’s too busy, that she’ll get to hanging up the picture frames and decorating the walls eventually. But there’s a part of her that knows she’s likely just stalling the inevitable, that the apartment is as temporary as it gets until she finally lets herself make the decision to to leave Dallas.

The quiet ding of the elevator opening has Paige sighing as she shakes her mind of that daunting thought. It’s why she’d rushed out of her room in the first place, not wanting to be trapped with herself for longer than necessary. The silence has become her worst enemy, enhancing the loneliness that she’s felt ever since the divorce- maybe even longer.

Divorce.

God she hates that word, has hated it since her parents had sat her down and said they were getting one. She’d always told herself she wouldn’t become another divorce statistic like them but clearly history liked repeating itself. And the worst part of it, Paige thinks, is that she doesn’t regret the divorce -thinks it might be one of the only right decisions she’s made in the last six years- but maybe she regrets that marriage, regrets selling Olivia a dream, she’d subconsciously always known she wouldn’t be able to fulfill.

Thinking of Olivia makes Paige feel awful. She hadn’t done anything outrightly wrong to the other woman, never raised her voice or said anything untoward and she’d definitely never cheated. Well, not physically at least. But she’d gotten married to the reporter for all the wrong reasons, trying to fit a puzzle piece that had all the wrong edges into the jigsaw of her life even though she’d known the empty space in her heart could only be filled by one person. For her part, Olivia had been just as good at pretending as Paige was, acting like she couldn’t see the cracks in their relationship or the water that was seeping in through them.

And then something shifted -maybe the water had finally gone over their head- and just like she’d been the one to bring up the idea of getting married, Olivia was the one who had filed for divorce. And Paige thinks maybe the worst thing she ever did to Olivia, is the way she didn’t fight it once. She remembers the hesitation in her ex-wife’s eyes, remembers the slight pleading look on her face as if she wanted Paige to at least resist it a little bit. But she hadn’t; she’d simply nodded and signed. That was the end of the Olivia, Paige knew and from then on the sweet, bubbly, slightly over-enthusiastic reporter who’d stumbled over her question at Paige’s first media availability transformed into a cold ex-wife who could keep up a charade of cordiality for appearances, but never refrained from a cutting jab here and there.

The elevator dings open and Paige steps into the lobby, straightening her hoodie a little bit as she scans the area for familiar faces. Finding no one she’s particularly interested in talking to, she’d just about to head to the bar when her eyes land on a little girl nervously bouncing on her feet next to a vase of flowers that’s almost double her height. She can’t be older than three years old and Paige can tell from the way her bottom lip is trembling, that the young child is doing her absolute best to hold in tears. Something constricts in her heart -something almost more than just empathy for the little girl- as Paige makes her way over.

Gently, trying not to scare the girl, Paige kneels in front of her, “hey sweetheart.”

When the little girl turns to look at her, familiar dark brown doey eyes filled with unshed tears, her breath hitches in her throat and Paige suddenly realizes why she’d felt that tug in her heart. This is Azzi’s kid.

“H-hi,” the little girl manages to splutter, playing with her fingers as she regards Paige with a way expression, clearly trying to discern whether she’s safe or not.

“Hey,” Paige repeats, smiling reassuringly, “you okay?”

The little girl nods slowly but there must something about the warmth in Paige’s smile that she pauses, rebellious teardrops running down her face as she goes from nodding to shaking her head.

“I-I-I-I- lost,” she wails.

“Oh sweetheart it’s okay,” Paige tries to say, hands instinctively reaching out to run up and down the little girl’s shoulders.

“I was- I was ‘posed to be with Aunty J but she- she was talking and I saw pu-ple flow-es,” she points to the vase through her tears, “so I came to see but then- but then- I look back and Aunty J no there anymore and I want- I want my Mama,” she heaves, fully sobbing now, “I want my Mama.”

“It’s okay sweetheart, shhh,” Paige comforts the little girl as she stands back up, lacing her own fingers through her tinier ones, “how about we go and try to find your Mama?”

She’s about to turn around when feels a tug on her hand and when she looks down, the young child is shaking her head, adamantly planting her feet firmly on the floor.

“We can’t go,” she says firmly, “Mama says if I get lost, I stay where I am and Mama will find me. And-,” she hesitates as she looks Paige up and down, “Mama says I don’t go anywhere with a st-anger.”

It shouldn’t sting -because that’s what Paige is, a stranger- but it’s an unsettling reminder that this is a world like nothing she’d ever imagined when she was younger, a world where Azzi’s daughter doesn’t know her.

“So we can’t go. We have to stay here and Mama will find me,” the little girl says again and despite the tears still swimming in her eyes, there’s complete confidence -trust- in her voice that her mother -that Azzi- will find her.

“Okay,” Paige agrees softly, “but is it okay if I wait with you?”

Azzi’s daughter looks at her with a contemplative look for a couple of seconds before a bright grin explodes on her face and Paige thinks it feels a little bit like a ray of sunshine bombarding into her otherwise cloudy world.

“Okay,” the little girl grins happily before holding out a tiny hand, “I’m Stephanie Katarina Fudd.”

Paige laughs at the formality as she shakes Stephanie’s hand, “I’m Paige Madison Bueckers.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chirps as smiles up at the woman.

“It’s Bueckers,” Paige tries to correct as Stephanie scrunches up her nose.

“That’s what I said,” she says with a confused look on her face, “Miss Buecks.”

Paige opens her mouth to try and correct her again but stops, deciding she’s not about to argue with the little girl and that she quite likes the incorrect way Stephanie says her name. Instead she lets herself fall to the ground, leaning against the pillar as she stretches out her legs in front of her. Stephanie raises an eyebrow at the actions but eventually sits down next to her and Paige smiles. They sit in silence for a bit as Paige reaches for her phone, considering texting Azzi for a brief second before she eventually decides to text Jana -who she thinks might just be Stephanie’s Aunty J- instead to let Azzi know Stephanie was with her.

“I know you,” Stephanie says suddenly and Paige looks away from the phone to see the little girl’s eyes wide with recognition.

“I thought you said I was a stranger,” Paige cocks a teasing eyebrow.

“You are,” Stephanie says matter-of-factly, “but I seen you at Mama’s game sometimes.”

“I’ve seen you too,” Paige admits.

“You’re good at bask-ball,” Stephanie states and the thing is, Paige has heard and read so many people say she’s great at basketball but there’s something about the way Stephanie says it -something about the genuine innocence of it- that makes her beam with pride.

“I guess I am,” she bumps Stephanie’s shoulder as she winks at her.

“I love bask-ball,” Stephaniee’s eyes gleam as she says it and Paige knows that expression -knows that slight look of madness that’s just the beginning of falling in love with a sport.

“Yeah?” she asks casually, “you play ball?”

Stephanie nods enthusiastically, “Mama got me a hoop for Ch-istmas -just like the one she had when she littler- and she p-omised that when I’m bigger, she’s gonna lemme go bask-ball camp.”

It’s hard not to grin along with Stephanie’s ranting, especially not when her determination to play basketball -one that reminds Paige a lot of herself- shines through her words.

“You any good,” Paige teases, biting back a laugh when the little girl’s face contorts in offense, like she can’t even believe someone would have the audacity to question her basketball skills.

“Of course I am. I’m Azzi Fudd’s daughter,” Stephanie says proudly, blissfully unaware of the way Paige's smile wobbles for a second at the statement, “but Mama says one day, I’mma be even gooder than her.”

“Can I get your autograph now then?”

Stephanie scrunches her nose, “what’s an au-to-gra-ph?”

“Wait,” Paige stands up, on a mission to find a pen, but Stephanie immediately grabs her hand.

The little girl’s eyes are wide with anxiety as she looks up at Paige, “no Miss Buecks don’t leave me.”

“Oh sweetheart I’m not,” Paige crouches back down in front of Stephanie, thumbs reaching out to rub the little girl’s cheeks in reassurance, “I’m gonna go right there to get something,” she points to the the reception desk, “I’ll be back in one minutes. I swear.”

“Pinky p-omise?” Stephanie raises her pinky and Paige diligently intertwines her own around it.

“Pinky promise,” she says, before practically skipping over to where she’d spotted a cup-holder full of pens. She can feel Stephanie’s anxious eyes piercing into the back of her head and if possible, the smile she’s had on her face since meeting the little girl, somehow deepens. It’s dangerous, she knows, becoming so enamored with Azzi’s daughter but her heart has always moved faster than her head, and Paige still hasn’t quite figured out how to stop that.

“You’re back,” Stephanie claps happily when Paige comes back to her and the blonde beams at the affection in her voice.

“Told you I would be,” Paige grins as she plops back down next to the little girl, holding out the pen she’d found.

“Why you get pen?” Stephanie asks, staring at it like it’s a foreign object.

“Because you need a pen to give me your autograph,” Paige explains, “an autograph is when someone famous signs their name on something for someone,” she holds out her arm that is currently covered by a grey hoodie, “will you sign my hoodie?”

“Silly Miss Buecks,” Stephanie chides, “You and Mama are famous. I’m not famous.”

“Not yet. But if you’re as good at basketball as you say you are, then one day, Stephanie Katarina Fudd, you are gonna be so famous. Just like me and your Mama,” Paige taps the little girl’s nose, releasing the giggle it elicits from her and she thinks it might be her new favorite sound, “and I wanna be the first person who gets your autograph.”

“Can I get yours too?” Stephanie asks, her tone a little shy and Paige thinks that forget an autograph, she’d give her the world if she’d asked for it.

“Of course you can bean,” the nickname slips out before she can catch it and Paige’s mind travels back to her wedding day, back to the phone-call with Azzi.

“Mama calls me bean too,” Stephanie says, as she begins to messily try and write her name on the sleeve of Paige’s hoodie, “she calls me Stephie-bean.”

As if on cue, Azzi’s voice fills the air, tinged with a slight bit of panic and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat. Six years they’ve been apart, something always thrums in her every time she feels Azzi’s presence near her. But it feels almost electric this time. The memories of the last time they’d seen each other, the night they’d spent together after this year’s National Championship game linger in the air and Paige shivers like she can still feels the softness of Azzi’s skin underneath her fingertips; can still hear the breathlessness of her moans in her hears.

“Stephie-bean,” Azzi calls out and Stephanie’s eyes dart towards her mother’s voice as she immediately stands up, little feet tripping over each other as she rushes to get to the younger woman.

“MAMA,” Stephanie yells, flinging herself into her mother’s arms and Paige watches as Azzi cradles the little girl to her chest, kissing all over her face. Something pangs in her chest, and she wishes she were a part of that embrace too. And if all the dreams they’d dreamt together when they were younger had come true, she would’ve been.

“Stephie what have I said about running off,” Azzi scolds as she coaxes the little girl's face out of her neck.

“I din-t run off,” Stephanie defends petulantly, “I go to look at pu-ple flow-es cause they looked so pretty but then when I turned around, Aunty J gone,’ her face wobbles at the memory, “I was so scay-ed Mama cause I lost and ‘lone but then,” her voice changes immediately as she turns around to point at Paige, who freezes when Azzi’s gaze lands on her, “Miss Buecks find me!”

“Miss Buecks,” Azzi repeats dazedly as Stephanie begins to pull her towards Paige, unaware of the anxious tension between the two adults.

“This is Miss Buecks,” Stephahnie introduces the two of them, “she find me and she tol’ me she help me find you but I say that Stephie can’t move cause Stephie have to stay right here cause Mama says if Stephie lost, Stephie don’t move,” the little girl says animatedly and both adults laugh at the random switch to third-person, “but Miss Buckes say she’ll stay with me and so I not ‘care anymore cause I have Miss Buecks,” she says casually, naive to the way it makes both Paige and Azzi swallows, “and look Mama,” she eagerly grabs Paige’s sleeve, “I give Miss Buecks my auto-gaph.”

“That’s, that’s lovely sweetheart,” Azzi says softly before she turns to Paige -and Paige wonders if it’ll ever stop, if the way her stomach swoons every time the brunette looks at her will ever go away-, “thank you for texting Jana and thank you- thank you for staying with her.”

Paige shrugs as casually as she can, “don’t gotta thank me,” she nudges Stephanie, “we had a great time together didn’t we Stephanie?”

The little girl nods enthusiastically, “the great-est-est-est time,” she exclaims to her mother, “Miss Buecks is so cool.”

“Thanks Stephie-” Paige hesitates, unsure if she has the right to use the nickname, “Stephanie. You’re really cool too.”

Stephanie practically glows at the compliment, “Mama, Miss Buecks thinks I’m cool and- and- and- she say that I’m gonna be famous one day. That’s why she wanted my auto-gaph. Cause I’mma be a big bask-ball star just like you two.”

Azzi ruffles the little girl’s hair before looking at Paige with an indiscernible expression, “just like us huh?”

“Maybe even better,” Paige says softly.

“I guess we’ll find out,” Azzi grins before leaning down to pick her daughter up -the sight of it invoking something warm and fuzzy in Paige’s stomach- “alright Stephie-bean, say bye to Miss Buecks. We gotta go get ready the orange carpet and I gotta go yell at your Aunty J for losing you again,” she winks at Paige who lets out a laugh.

And she hasn’t laughed like this -laughed as much as she has in these last few minutes with Stephanie- in so long that she’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

“Bye Miss Buecks,” Stephanie waves over her mother’s shoulder.

“Bye Stephanie,” Paige waves before hesitating for a second, and then she calls out, “hey Azzi?”

Azzi turns around slightly, humming in response, “what’s up?”

“I like that you call her Stephie-bean,” Paige admits nervously, hoping Azzi will understand what she means and by the way the brunette’s eyes soften, it’s clear she does.

“It just felt right,” Azzi says softly; her mouth opens like she wants to say more -something more than what their current colleague-esque relationship allows for- but in the end, she settles on something far more mundane, “see you around Bueckers.”

“See ya,” Paige whispers back and if she stands completely still, watching Stephanie and Azzi walking all the way until they turn a corner and she can’t see them anymore, well that’s nobody’s business but her own.

That’s the first night Paige lets herself wonder about the possibilities of becoming a Golden State Valkyrie.

***

June 2033

Dream 64 Valkyries 87

Paige has never had particularly strong feelings towards the Atlanta Dream. They weren’t a particularly bad team, nor were they a particularly great team and Paige had simply never had an experience with them -whether it was a fan of the league or as a player in it- that was worth remembering for her to feel anything towards them. But tonight, tonight Paige fucking hates the Atlanta Dream.

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate the team.

She hates a certain player, a certain #11 wearing French player who’d had the audacity to hold her Stephie, to wrap her arms around her Azzi. Paige had spent the first couple of minutes of warm-ups with a deep scowl on her face as she’d watched Clémence interact with her girls. She’d hated the way Stephie grinned at the French woman, hated the way Azzi had laughed at something she’d said. But most of all Paige hated that she hadn’t been able to do any of that -hadn’t been on the receiving end of Stephie’s giggles or Azzi’s warm smile- for almost three weeks now. God she missed them so fucking much.

It was until Jana had tapped her on the back -a knowing look in her teammate’s eyes- that Paige had finally turned away from the scene. She’d channeled all her anger and frustration into the game, playing as the most aggressive version of herself. And it had paid off in the form of a 31 points, 7 assists, 4 rebounds and 3 stocks game, another statline cementing her position in the rather early race for MVP. But all of that feels futile now as Paige -signing autographs before she had to head off to media- notices Stephie go racing back into Clémence’s arms, the little girl’s face bright with happiness as the French woman catches her and twirls her around. From the corner of her eyes, she notices Azzi walking towards the two of them and Paige normally loves Azzi’s smile -think’s it’s nothing short of being the prettiest sight in the world- but she thinks she might hate it a little bit right now when it’s directed at Clémence.

“Aunty Chérie,” Stephie’s squeals echo clearly in Paige’s ears, despite the noise of the crowd surround her, “you played so good today.”

“Merci ma chérie,” Clémence's voice is saccharine sweet, “I’m very happy to see you. I have missed you lots. I was thinking,” Paige continues to sign another jersey but her ears are fully tuned into the conversation happening a couple meters away as Clémence’s attention turns towards Azzi, “we are leaving tomorrow morning so I have some time tonight. So I was thinking maybe I could take you and Stephie out to dinner tonight? Unless-” Paige feels both Clemence’s and Azzi’s eyes flicker to herself and she tries to keep her focus on the fans in front of her, “unless perhaps you are going with someone else?”

Paige waits with bated breath for Azzi’s answer, wishing her telepathic plea for the brunette say no, could somehow reach her but it’s Stephie who answers first.

“Mama please can we go,” the little girl begs immediately -her tone one that Paige knows to be the one she uses when she’s trying to get her mother to agree, “please, please, please. We haven’t gotten dinner with Aunty Chérie in so long.”

“Stephie-” there’s hesitation in Azzi’s voice but Paige knows that she’s likely to cave into her daughter’s wishes -after all Stephie isn’t asking for anything ridiculous- and she knows she has to get away, not wanting to hear anymore about Clémence’s stupid fucking dinner plans.

Giving the fans in front of her a tight-lipped smile, Paige slowly backs away from them, eyes searching for Joyce -her companion to face the press tonight- as she heads towards the media-room. She’s so focused on looking for her teammate or perhaps she’s too in her head but she doesn’t spot the assistant carrying water bottles coming. The two of them collide with a large crash that rings around Chase Center as the bottles go flying across the court. Paige’s cheeks turn a deep shade of pink as she feels the eyes of everyone on her -none more piercing than Azzi’s- but she doesn’t dare turn around. Instead she shoots the assistant an apologetic look, gathering as many water bottles as in front of her, before she’s bolting to the press room, wondering what the fuck she's done for the universe to keep testing her like this.

***

Paige is the last person left in the locker room. By the time she and Joyce had returned from the press conference, most of the team had fizzled out. And so she’d taken her time -ignoring the weird look Joyce gave her considering normally they were all eager to get home- showering and getting changed. She’d come out of the shower to a desolate locker room and as she’d sat on the bench, drying her damp hair, she’d let herself succumb to all the thoughts she’d been suppressing.

It’s somehow worse this time; it hurts more in a way that Paige hadn’t known was possible. They hadn’t been together nearly as long as they were back then and their relationship was barely defined. But at least last time, Paige had been able to run to another side of the country where she wasn’t constantly reminded of her ex. Azzi isn’t even technically an ex this time, but there’s no avoiding her. Not when they’re on the same team, not when she’s a coach at her daughter’s camp. And Paige doesn’t quite know what’s harder, trying to find oxygen in an air devoid of Azzi and Stephie’s presence, or trying to breathe when they’re near her.

Perhaps that’s why it’s so different. Paige has lost Azzi before and even if that doesn’t make the hurt any less, at least she has a blueprint for how to cope with it. But she doesn’t know how to deal with losing Stephie, doesn’t know how to not miss the little girl’s smile and her big doey eyes and the way she’d used to wrap her arms around Paige like she was trying to bind them together forever.

But more than anything, more than missing Azzi or Stephie, Paige misses the three of them together. She misses Azzi’s exasperated look when she and Stephie would indulge in some sort of ridiculous drama. She misses the little girl’s mischievous look before she’d launch herself into both of their arms. She misses her own soft smile as she’d watch the two of them engage in the most mundane things. She misses the peaceful silence as they’d eat together and the noisy chaos when they’d argue over what movie to watch afterwards. She misses everything.

And the worst part is that she knows she wouldn’t be missing any of it, if it wasn’t for the barriers she’s put up herself. This is a cage of Paige’s own making and the key to open the lock rests in her own hands. She just needs to be brave enough to use it. Azzi words run amok in her head, the reassurance that Paige could have time clouded by the reluctant warning that eventually that time would run out.

“Hey,” she snaps herself out of her thoughts to see Azzi cautiously entering the locker room, her playing jersey swapped from a casual green top and cargo pants.

Paige swallows, “hi.”

“I uh- I was um-” Azzi’s eyes nervously dart around the room as she strides over to her locker, picking up the pink lipgloss -one Paige has the taste of memorized- that’s sitting on the bench under it, “I forgot this so I uh- I came back to grab it.”

“Cool,” Paige replies monotonously but her head’s already racing with thoughts of will you let her kiss it off of you the way you let me? And she knows -she trusts- that Azzi won’t but even the possibility of it lights a small fire within her.

Azzi chews on her lips as she nods, before starting to walk towards the door but she stops last second, turning around with the starts of a smile on her lips, “you were amazing tonight P. I mean you have been since the season started but tonight especially, you were just- you were you. You were awesome.”

Paige absorbs the compliments, tries to use it to douse the simmering jealousy that’s flaming up within her at the knowledge that once Azzi leaves this locker room, she’s likely going with Clémence.

“Thanks,” the blonde manages to get out and it’s a little short and rather icy but Paige thinks it’s probably better than saying all the other things that are on the tip of her tongue.

Azzi’s face dims at the curt reply, smile faltering as she nods, “anytime, P.”

That should be it. Paige should let her go, should be content with this small interaction that’s the most she’s gotten from outside of practice in weeks. But then the bitter words are waterfalling from her lips faster than she can stop them and despite the regret she feels immediately after, there’s a part of her that’s relieved when it makes Azzi come to a halt right in front of the door.

“Your girl played well too,” she bites out, the acidic words burning her tongue.

Azzi doesn’t turn around but Paige notices the way her shoulders go rigid, “don’t do this Paige. You know she’s not my girl.”

Paige ignores her, “11 points, 2 rebounds, 1 assist. Not bad numbers. Decent. But not better than yours of course.”

“Paige,” there's a warning note in Azzi’s voice, like she knows exactly where Paige is going with this.

“I’m just saying, “ Paige shrugs with a casualness that’s in stark contrast to the tension lingering in the air, “she’s a decent player. But you’d never be in her shadow. Never be known as just her anything.”

Azzi turns around slowly and Paige feels her anger dissipate as quickly as it had erupted when she takes in the way the brunette’s eyes are brimming with tears.

“Seriously?” Azzi grits out, “you’re seriously gonna throw that in my face right now?”

“I’m not throwing anything in your face. I’m stating a fact-”

“Oh bullshit-”

“It’s not bullshit,” Paige yells before she sucks in a sharp breath, closing her eyes to calm herself down before she continues, “it’s not bullshit,” she repeats, “it is a fact and that fact is the reason why we’re here right now.”

“What do you mean?” Azzi crosses her arms across her body.

“Nine years ago you said no-”

“Oh my god,” Azzi says exasperatedly, “we can’t keep going over this again.”

“We have to Azzi,” Paige cuts her off, “we have to because you said no. And you broke my heart and you broke my trust. And that’s why we’re here right now. That’s why I made the deal with the Liberty and that’s why I can’t let of my escape plan and that’s why I can’t promise to stay and that’s why we have to keep going over it. Because I’m trying, “her voice cracks as the first tear slides down, “god Azzi- I’m trying so fucking hard baby but how do I know you won’t say no me -to us- again?”

Azzi stares at her with an undecipherable expression, her fists clenching and unclenching by her sides. It feels like an eternity passes in between them as they look at each other, breathing heavily almost in sync, until the brunette finally speaks.

“Well how do I know you won’t leave again?”

Paige blinks in confusion, “excuse me?”

“You keep accusing me of all of these things Paige but you’re the one that keeps leaving,” Azzi says and they both know she isn’t just talking about nine years ago, “I know- I know I made a mistake. But when I said no all I asked for was a little bit of time. That’s all I asked for Paige. Time. Just like you’re asking for right now. And I know- I know we said a whole lot of shit that night -I said a bunch of fucking things I shouldn’t have- but- god Paige you didn’t even give it a day. I came to find you less than 24 hours later and you were gone,” she chokes on the last word and Paige wants nothing more than to cradle the younger woman in her arms, take away her pain and shield her from ever feeling anything like it again.

“Az-”

“And if you’d just waited -just given me a little bit of time,” Azzi continues as if she hadn’t even heard the blonde attempt to speak, “then maybe you would have known that I wasn’t saying no forever. Just for a little bit, just for then. But you just- you left.”

“You said a lot more than just no,” Paige says frustratedly.

It’s Azzi’s turn to look guilty and Paige can almost see the memories of that night flashing in her mind, “I know that but I would’ve taken it all back if you’d just waited.”

“How could I have known that?” Paige whispers and she’s not sure if she’s defending herself from Azzi or from that voice in her head -the one she’d done her best to silence- that’s always wondered if she’d made a mistake immediately leaving for Dallas the morning after.

“You couldn’t have,” Azzi says softly, sounding almost defeated, “the same way that you don’t know that I won’t say no again. The same way that I don’t know if you’ll leave again,” she sighs as she sits down next to Paige, “but that’s life Paige. We don’t know what’s gonna happen in the future and we can’t- we can’t predict what someone else will do. All we can do is try and trust ourselves and trust each other.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Paige nudges her shoulder and Azzi lets out a short laugh.

“I know it’s not. Trust me, I know it’s hard. There’s about five hundred different voices in my head saying that I should stop waiting or whatever it is I’m doing right now. That I should let you go for good. That even if you end this whole Liberty bullshit, you’ll still leave me -leave us- eventually.”

“But?” Paige presses and she feels like she’s teetering on the edge of a cliff, like the next words out of Azzi’s mouth will determine whether she falls or flies.

“But,” Azzi breathes out as she turns to look at Paige with a slightly wistful smile, “there’s this one voice in my head, clearer than all the rest that says I should trust you -that I should believe in us- that maybe we just need to get through this one last hurdle to get back to each other,” the younger woman reaches out to squeeze Paige’s hand gently before she stands up, “I think you just need to find that voice too P.”

“I’m scared Az,” Paige says softly.

“I am too,” Azzi admits as she leans down to brush the blonde’s tears away with her thumb, “trusting is really fucking scary. I get it. but maybe- maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together.”

Paige shudders when Azzi presses a kiss to her forehead, the brunette's lips lingering long after she’s embedded every unspoken thought into it. She pulls away almost reluctantly, patting Paige’s cheeks lightly before starting to walk back towards the door.

“Azzi,” the blonde calls out, mouth going a little drying when Azzi turns over her shoulder, “don’t go to dinner with Clémence.”

Go with me. Let me take you and Stephie out to dinner instead.

“Don’t hold on to the deal with the Liberty,” Azzi says quietly in lieu of an actual answer, “say you’ll stay.”

Paige falters, “Az I-”

“I already told you P,” there’s a sad smile on Azzi’s face before she turns away, “you can have time or you can have us but you can’t have both. Not right now.

“Azzi-”

“I hope you find that voice soon Paige and I hope it leads you back to me.”

***

August 2032

Paige is standing in a corner -a dirty Shirley in her hand- cackling at a joke that Cam had just made when she sees her entering and the laughter dies in her throat. Cam notices the change immediately, her eyes tracking Paige’s gaze until they land on the brunette who’s being pulled into a series of congratulatory hugs by players from other countries.

“So where did y’all go last night?” the LA Sparks center asks casually

“What?” Paige asks distractedly, her eyes narrowing when she notices a familiar French player inching towards the door for a hug of her own.

“You and Azzi,” Cam clarifies and Paige swallows at the mention of her name, “y’all disappeared while we were all still celebrating. Lowkey felt like we were back in Belarus all over again when y’all just kept going off somewhere with each other,” the taller woman shoots Paige a teasing grin, “so where’d you go?”

“Just uh- just needed some air,” Paige bites her lip at the lie.

Because the truth is that once they’d left the hotel bar, and they’d practically pounced on each other -from the elevator till they’d made it to Paige’s hotel room- they’d barely come up for air. The feeling of each other’s lips and bare skin was more intoxicating than any drink they’d consumed -maybe even more intoxicating than the Olympic Gold medal they’d finally won together earlier that day- and neither of them seemed to care about unimportant matters such as breathing.

Cam quirks an eyebrow as she sips at her drink, “if you say so Bueckers.”

“I do say so,” Paige retorts before dislodging herself from the wall she’d been leaning against, eyes still tracking every moment Azzi made, “we should- we should go say hi.”

“We should, should we?” Cam smirks but the sweet angel she is, she falls into step easily with Paige as they start walking across the room.

The banquet hall is buzzing with players dancing and drinking and mingling with each other. Now that the basketball portion of the Olympics was over, they’d all returned from being fierce competitors playing for their country, to being the friendly co-players they all were. Laughter and chatter fills the air as teammates and rivals alike, reconnect at the FIBA-sponsored party that had almost all of the women’s basketball players participating in Bris2032 in attendance.

“Azziiii,” Cam squeals as the two of them finally reach the Valkyries superstar who’d just finished hugging Gabby.

Azzi grins when she sees Cam but it slips a little when she notices Paige next to her. She’s quick to fix it, eyes going back to Cam as she pulls the taller woman into a hug. Something pinches against Paige’s heart and she forces herself to look away; her gaze landing instead on where Gabby has walked away from the three of them to slip an arm around Marine’s waist. Paige stares wistfully at the scene -at the way Marine relaxes into Gabby’s touch as she continues whatever conversation she’d been involved in. It’s all she wants and instinctively, her eyes wander back to Azzi.

“Hey,” Paige says slowly as Azzi lets go of Cam, disappointment coursing through her veins when all she gets is a nod of acknowledgement.

“So Azzi I was just asking Paige here, where y’all disappeared to last night?” Cam asks with a teasing tone.

Azzi blanches as the question, “oh um- I- uh I wanted to go check in on Stephie.”

“And you needed Paige to come with you for that?”

A distinctly pink hue begins at the base of Azzi’s neck, climbing up until it tints her cheeks, “I was a little tipsy and uh- just wanted the support I guess.”

Paige almost snorts at the response. Azzi had been way beyond tipsy and Paige wouldn’t have been any support, considering she’d been maybe two drinks away from blacking out. But she supposes, Cam probably doesn’t need to know that and she definitely doesn’t need to know what it had led to.

“Interesting,” the taller blonde looks between the two women as she takes another sip of her drink, “Paige just said y’all needed some air.”

“I mean that- that was definitely a part of it too. The bar was getting pretty hot-” this time Paige does snort at Azzi’s answer which gets her an amused look from Cam and a very unamused look from the brunette herself.

Cam puts her hands up in surrender, “listen if Paige says y’all needed air and if you say you needed to go see Stephie, I believe you,” she says but that cheeky grin on her face says the exact opposite.

“Speaking of Stephie. It’s uh- it’s almost her bedtime and I should uh- I should call my Mom so I can say goodnight,” Azzi manages a tightlipped smile towards the two other women before she disappears into the crowd, heading towards the balcony.

Paige hesitates for a second before she turns to face Cam and that shit-eating, knowing smirk on her friend’s face almost has her giving into her pride and swallowing the words she’s about to say. Almost.

“I’m uh- I’mma go to,” she stumbles out.

“Oh of course,” Cam grins sly, “bet Azzi needs some more support huh?”

Paige shakes her head, flashing Cam her middle finger -and rolling her eyes when it causes the taller woman to laugh- as she follows after Azzi. The chill Brisbane air swarms around her as she steps out into the balcony. Azzi’s standing right by the railing, her phone held right above her as she facetimes her daughter. Paige catches on quickly to the conversation, realizing that the little girl is telling her mother about how Tim had let her have ice-cream after dinner.

“Stephanie Katarina Fudd,” Paige hears Tim’s voice echo through the phone as Stephanie’s eyes go wide on the screen, “I thought it was gonna be our little secret?”

She holds in a laugh, leaning back against the door, as the little girl splutters trying to justify her tattle-taling, “it’s Mama, Pops. I can’t hide things from my Mama.”

Tim scoffs but there’s no genuine irritation to it, “that’s the last time I give you ice-cream.”

Stephanie shoots him an unimpressed look, “you say that all the time Pops and then you give me ice-cream anyways.”

“She’s got you there,” Katie choruses from the back and Paige watches as she high-five her grand-daughter.

And she doesn’t quite know what that pang in her chest means, but she’s felt it every time she’s seen Stephani and the Fudds over the course of the Olympics. The Fudds had come to Brisbane -of course they had- and every time Paige caught sight of them in the stands or watched them from the corner of her eyes, it felt like something was stinging against her rib cage. They’d all had custom #35 Azzi jerseys and their cheers were louder than every other voice in the arena any time Team USA did anything and after each win, they’d been the first people down the stairs, ready to hug envelope Azzi in a hug. At the forefront of it was Stephanie, who’d ran into her mother’s arms at lightning quick speed and Paige had watched -hoping she was being at least somewhat conspicuous- as Azzi had spun the little girl around.

It wasn’t that the Fudds ignored Paige. In fact they’d made it a point to come over to her right after to wrap her up amidst themselves. Stephanie had come over too, her smile shy as she’d congratulated Paige on the wins. The little girl clearly didn’t quite remember their interaction from all-star last year -her eyes regarding Paige almost like a stranger- and the blonde consoles herself with the fact that Stephanie’s only four. Four year olds weren’t known for remembering things that had happened when they were three. Still, it hurt a little bit considering Paige thinks of that interaction more than she probably should.

But even though she’d still gotten the hugs and the smiles and the congratulations, it wasn’t quite the same, wasn’t anything like she’d picture during the conversations of we’ll get customized 5+35 Bueckers-Fudd jerseys for the Olympics she’d once had with Tim and Katie.

“Alright Stephie-Bean, Mama’s gonna head back into the party-” Paige refocuses on the conversation just in time to hear Azzi get cut off by her rather dramatic daughter.

“I can’t bel-ieve you went to another party without me Mama,” Stephanie drags out the words, “no Mama-good-night-kisses cause she pick party-time over Stephie time.”

The little girl’s joking but Paige can tell by the way it makes Azzi pause for a second -her shoulder stiffening just a little bit- that it’s hit a nerve. She wants to soothe it away, wants to wrap her arms around her from behind, hitch her chin over her neck and take away all of Azzi’s worries. And that bitter thought -the one that seems to surface every time her heart beats a little faster for the brunette, the one that had filled her head when she’d woken up next to the younger woman earlier this morning- takes birth in her head again. The thought she could have done all of that -would have the right to do it- if only Azzi had just said yes.

“I’ll make it up to you Stephie-bean,” she hears Azzi promise, “tomorrow, just you and me okay sweetheart? All of my time’s gonna be yours.”

Stephanie’s face immediately brightens up, “okay Mama,” she says happily as she blows a kiss to the screen, “love you Mama. Good night.”

“Good night sweet girl. I love you more,” Azzi choruses back, waving at the screen before she cuts the call.

It takes her a moment to turn around and Paige watches as Azzi takes in a deep breath, a subtle smile on her face as she takes in the Brisbane skyline. When she does finally turn around, surprise filters onto her expression at seeing the blonde standing there.

“Hey,” Paige whispers nervously, stuffing her hands into the pocket of her pants.

Azzi looks at her for a moment, “hi.”

They stand there rigidly, letting the tension -a completely different kind than the one that had encompassed them last night- simmer between them. It’s almost like they're daring each other to say something, to address the elephant in the room.

Azzi breaks first, “something you wanted to say?”

“Just wanted some air,” Paige says, cringing a little bit at the cliché line that she’s now used twice in one night.

“Right,” Azzi nods, moving towards the door, “guess I’ll leave you to it then.”

Her voice is tinged with an iciness that sets Paige on edge. They haven’t been like this in a while and she’d thought they’d let go of the resentful exes gimmick they’d had going on for the first couple of years. But the hardness in Azzi’s tone suggests that it’s back with vengeance tonight.

“Az-” Paige calls out.

“What?” Azzi asks loudly, biting her lip when the harshness of it almost makes the blonde stumble back, “sorry I-”

But before she can apologize, Paige finds herself retaliating with the same hardness in her own tone, “what’s your fucking problem?”

“My problem?” Azzi reels back, eyes flashing with anger, “are you seriously asking me that?”

“Yes. That’s clearly what I asked,” Paige retorts.

Azzi laughs devoid of emotion, “I woke up to an empty bed this morning and you’re asking me what my fucking problem is?”

Guilt inches it’s way up Paige’s spine but it pales in comparison to the anger that flickers in the pit of her stomach, “oh that’s rich coming from you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Is that not exactly what you did last time we fucked,” the profanity tastes acetous as it falls through Paige’s lips because it sounds wrong, like she’s insulting the sanctity of their relationship, no matter how broken it might be.

“No it’s not,” Azzi nostrils flare, “I told you I was leaving. I had the common fucking decency to let you know. I didn’t just sneak out.”

Paige rolls her eyes, “oh spare me the semantics. It’s all the same shit at the end of the day. We both left.”

“Oh fuck you Paige,” Azzi snarls as she tries to leave but Paige is quicker, fingers wrapping around her wrist to stop her.

And everything she’d been prepared to say dies in her throat because now they’re too close, chests heaving in harmony as their matching glares turn into something else. Paige’s eyes fall to Azzi’s lips, breath hitching when the brunette’s tongue darts out for a second to wet them. She tugs on Azzi’s wrist experimentally, pleased when there’s little hesitation and the younger woman lets herself be pulled closer. The air is electric with want as they lean in slowly, their noses brushing against each other as they wait for each other to make a move, to close the distance.

But then there’s the sound of someone clearing their throat, followed by someone else coughing and the two of them spring apart like they’ve been burned.

“Jesus Az, careful!” Jana’s concerned voice makes Paige’s ears perk up and she follows the Egyptians line of sight to see that Azzi had moved back so fast that she’d fallen back against the balcony railing.

“I’m fine,” Azzi says hurriedly but the shake in her voice betrays that she’s anything but.

“Are you?” Paige turns to find Aaliyah watching them with the wary gaze of someone who’s been around them and their bullshit far too long, “because uh- we can hear y’all yelling from inside.”

Azzi’s eyes shoot up, panic evident on her face, “you heard us? Did you- could you hear what we said?”

Paige scoffs loudly, “oh right yeah because that would be really fucking bad wouldn’t be it Azzi? God forbid anyone found out you fucked me.”

And she doesn’t even know why she’s arguing -honestly she’s just as embarrassed at the idea of their teammates and rivals and everyone else in between actually overhearing their argument- but it pinches a nerve and she pointedly looks away from Azzi’s ashen face.

“You guys fucked?” Paige flinches at how loud Jana is and Aaliyah lets out a low groan.

“Jana,” the Canadian warns, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Sorry but like,” Jana looks back and forth between Paige and Azzi, dropping her voice, “y’all fucked?”

Paige sighs, feeling drained as she leans back against a pillar for support, “that’s what I said yes.”

If possible, Jana’s eyes get even wider, “so- so what does that mean for the two of you? Are you- are y’all gonna get back together?”

Azzi looks at Paige.

Paige looks at Azzi.

And it’s like they’re both imploring each other to answer Jana’s question and to answer it right.

“It means nothing,” it’s the wrong answer and Paige knows it even before she says it -can tell by the way Azzi barely reacts that she knows Paige doesn’t even really believe herself- but she thinks maybe they’re not quite ready to get it right. Not yet.

“Well there you go,” Azzi says quietly, shrugging nonchalantly at Jana, “it means nothing.”

Paige flinches at the repetition of her own words, looking away as Azzi starts walking towards the door again. The brunette’s shoulder brushes against the older woman’s -sparks igniting around them- and she hesitates.

“It means nothing,” Azzi repeats, her voice a longing whisper only meant for Paige’s ears, “but maybe it could’ve meant something. If you’d stayed.”

***

June 2033

Paige is sulking in her room -watching film to distract herself from the images of Clémence, Azzi and Stephie together from last night that her brain is hellbent on conjuring up- when her pity party is broken up by the sound of her doorbell. She has the urge to ignore it, to stay curled up in the same position she’s been in all day. It’s a rather pathetic way to have spent one of her rare days off but it’s the only thing she’d felt like doing. But then whoever’s outside her door starts to press the bell longer and Paige huffs -irritated by the loudness of it- as she forces herself out of bed.

She’s not sure who she was expecting. Perhaps Jana, who’d caught on rather quickly to what was happening between her two former teammates and had been making somewhat of an attempt to help fix it. Maybe Colleen, here to knock some sense into her on Azzi’s behalf. Or maybe even Tessa, who Paige had learned in the most awkward way, knew about them when the former Gamecock had made a teasing remark about the two of them the next practice, not knowing what had transpired two nights before. When both Paige and Azzi had immediately tensed, instead of blushing or rolling their eyes, Tessa had been perceptive enough to understand something had gone wrong. She’d been trying to help Jana ever since and Paige half expects it to be her at the door with words of wisdom and comfort alike.

Who she isn’t expecting is Tim Fudd.

His wife, she would’ve understood. After all Katie had done exactly that before and it was in the older woman’s nature to meddle just a little bit. Her husband, on the other hand, tended to stay as far out of things as possible. He could be a hovering coach and whenever Azzi’s spirits were low, he’d be there with a ridiculous dad joke and arms outstretched for a big bear hug. But when it came to his daughter’s personal life, Tim Fudd did his best not to interfere.

Tim smiles at Paige when she opens the door, one hand holding up a bottle of whiskey with a grin on his face while his other hand is hidden behind his back. He rolls his eyes fondly when he notices the skeptical look Paige shoots at his liquor of choice before he reveals the premade bottle of dirty Shirley he’s been hiding behind his back.

“Tsk tsk,” he grins mockingly, “what would the fans say if they knew their big bad rizzler can’t drink anything but a sweet cocktail?”

Paige shakes her head as she steps aside to let the man inside, “just cause I don’t drink cheap whiskey, doesn’t mean I don’t drink anything other than cocktails.”

“Cheap?!” Tim guffaws as the accusation, “I’ll have you know this is a Macallan.”

“You know that that means nothing to me right,” Paige says as she follows his lead into her kitchen.

It’s almost foreign having somebody else in her space. Since Drew had left -rather hesitantly after seeing his sister’s condition- the house had been devoid of anyone else but Paige. Jana had tried to invite herself over a couple of times but it had gone in vain when Paige had chosen solitude over any company. It’s not that she particularly wants to be alone, it’s that she thinks -no, she knows- that there’s only two people who can cure this dreadful loneliness that feels like it’s become an innate part of existence.

“Sit,” Tim says as he rummages through Paige’s cupboards for two glasses.

Hesitating for a split second, Paige does as she's told, “did Azzi send you?”

“Are you hoping she did?’ Tim asks pointedly as he places two glasses one top of the counter, filling one with whiskey and other with dirty Shirley.

Paige swallows as she accepts the drink from his hand, “nah,” lies, “ just uh- just feels like something she’d do.”

Tim looks at her for a minute as he takes a sip of his whiskey.

“She didn’t send me,” he says finally and Paige tries to mask the tinge of disappointment his words send through her by taking a large swig of her shirley.

“This tastes like shit,” she grimaces, wiping her mouth with the back of hand.

“That premade stuff usually does. It’s that easy shit you know? The things that just exist without you doing any work. Just doesn’t hit the same as the harder stuff,” Tim says slowly as he leans back against his chair, a clear double meaning in his words.

“You’re using alcohol as a metaphor? So I guess Katie sent you then?” Paige manages a half-smile but she feels her stomach churn at the implication of what he’d just said.

Tim laughs, “it was my idea actually.”

“Her meddling rubbing off on you?” Paige quirks an eyebrow.

Tim shakes his head, “I’m not here to meddle. Just wanted to tell you a story.”

Paige sighs, “so you are here to meddle then.”

Tim ignores her, fiddling with the glass of whiskey in his hands, “did you know Katie and I almost didn’t end up together?”

Paige stares at the older man in shock. Maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised; relationships were complicated after all. But for all the years she’d known Tim and Katie, they’d always been just that. TimAndKatie. The epitome of stableness that had stood strong amongst all the other relationships Paige had watched break down one by one.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Tim says lightly when he notices how wide Paige’s eyes have gotten, “everyone makes mistakes. We’re all capable of doing dumb shit that almost makes us lose everything we’ve ever loved.”

Paige gulps, “what- what did you do?”

“I left,” Tim says slowly.

“You left?” the familiar words make Paige nauseous and she wonders if that slightly regretful look on Azzi’s dad’s face is echoed on her own.

“It was a couple months into our relationship and Katie and I had a huge fight. It was about her not letting me make a decision about Azzi,” Tim explains and the similarity of the situation almost makes Paige want to block her ears.

“It was something small, something stupid. Probably nothing that even mattered cause I don’t even remember it. But I remember how I felt. I was really fucking mad but more than anything I think- I think I was scared. Because that argument, it was a remind that even though I loved her so fucking much, Azzi wasn’t mine. Not yet. And that if I lost Katie, I’d lose her too. The idea of losing Katie was scary enough but losing both of them? I didn’t know how to deal with that,” Tim's voice shakes, like he’s relieving his biggest fears and Paige feels her own eyes start to water; his words settling salt in her still-raw open wounds.

“And it got so heated and we were yelling all this bullshit at each other that eventually I just- I didn’t know what else to do and I just- I started to leave. And Azzi- I guess we were so loud we woke her up- she- she saw me leaving,” there’s an unfamiliar grave look on the normally jovial old man’s face as he reminisces that night, “she ran down the stairs and threw herself at my knees begging me not to go but I- I was so mad and so fucking scared that I walked away anyways.”

“How- how did you fix it?” Paige asks, her voice almost pleading as she wipes away the droplets of water running freely down her cheeks.

“Well not immediately that’s for sure,” Tim cracks a smile, trying to lighten the mood, “took me a little bit of time to pull my head out of my ass and when I finally did, Katie wasn’t so quick to forgive me for it either. And it wasn’t about her or me or us, it was about Azzi. The first time I showed up, she didn’t even let me in. Said she could only let me through that door again if I could promise to stay. Because Azzi had seen me leave once and she wasn’t gonna let her see it again.”

“It must’ve killed you,” Paige whispers, her stomach twisting in knots, “the guilt of hurting her.”

Tim nods, “it did but I think- or at least I hope I’ve made up for it now.”

“You have,” Paige reaches over to squeeze his arm gently, “how did you get her to forgive you?”

“Simple,” Tim places his own hand over hers as he continues, “we talked it out. I explained all my fears to her. How scared I was of losing her, of losing Azzi. And she- she understood because she was scared too, scared of losing me, scared of Azzi losing me. In the end we were both scared of the same thing but all of that got a whole lot less scary when we faced it together.”

Maybe it would be a little less scary if we did it together

“How did you get over it,” Paige asks, almost desperately, “the fear of losing them? How did you move past that?”

Tim smiles wistfully, “time. Not time apart but time together. It wasn’t easy taking that first step, facing that fear but I knew if I wanted them, it was what I was gonna have to do. And I had to trust Katie, that if I stayed, she’d stay.”

“And she stayed,” Paige says softly.

“Yeah she did,” this time, Tim’s grin breaks through his entire, “and the more time she stayed, the more my trust in her grew until one day I just knew. I knew she wasn’t gonna leave ever again. Well, maybe she’s thought about it a couple of times like when I nearly burnt the house down tryna make cookies or when I accidentally tore a hole in our wall tryna hang up a photo frame.

Paige lets out a watery laugh as Tim winks at her, everything suddenly seeming a lot more simple than it had before the older man had walked through her door.

“I know it’s not quite the same for you and Azzi,” Tim continues slowly, “you guys have a history that Katie and I didn’t. You both have more reasons to be scared than the two of us did. But Paige, I’ve always thought you were it for my baby girl. From the moment she came back from USA camp and all she could talk about was you, I just knew.”

Paige can’t help the broken sob that escapes her lips and Tim immediately rounds the kitchen counter to wrap an arm around her shoulder.

“When she was pregnant with Stephie, she kept on asking for mint-choc chip ice cream. Said it was a craving or something. And she decorated everything for her in purple. All the baby clothes she bought were shades of purple,” he doesn’t quite say why Azzi did all of that but there’s a clear implication in his words.

And Paige thinks that probably, why she and Stephie are so similar, why they shared so many favorites, why the little girl had always felt like hers. Because Azzi had given a part of Paige to her daughter, even when she hadn’t had Paige herself.

“Katie and Azzi, they’re mine but I think- I think if maybe someone else had gotten to them first -someone who loved them just as much as I do- maybe there’s a chance things would be different but Paige,” Tim squeezes the younger woman gently, “I think Azzi’s always been waiting for you. Subconsciously at least. There’s never really been anybody elese for her. Her and Stephie, they’ve both always been waiting for you, they’ve both always been yours.”

“You mean that?” Paige asks croakily and she feels like she’s a teenager again, asking Tim to pinky promise that he’d like her box-dyed purple hair no matter what.

“I do,” Tim smiles as he looks at her, “and I think they’ll be yours forever. I think they want to be. You just have to say you’ll stay.”

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #wcbb

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suhkusa · 5 months ago

Text

CW. ANGST

Sakusa is nervous. Extremely.

For many reasons but more so because this “hangout” the two of you are at right now is too intimate that it borders on the title of a “date”. He wouldn’t mind that, but it’s not what he called it when he asked to meet up.

Another reason being that he’s going to ask you out today, he looks down at his phone’s lock screen, in approximately 33 minutes. He doesn’t know why he chose a time, maybe something that his horoscope said.

He sits across from you on a soft throw blanket he pulled from his storage closet. Laid in front of the two of you are many of your favorite foods that he has learned of from the past month together.

Sakusa doesn’t have much doubt that you’ll say no. You had shown interest from the very beginning, and while there were some obstacles, the two of you overcame together and ended up getting closer than he had expected.

“Omi, are you okay?” your voice pulls him from his thoughts.

“Ah, sorry,” he smiles.

“The weather is a bit more chillier than the weather app had predicted, huh?” you look off into the distance.

He doesn’t think so. In fact, he feels warmer because of how flustered he is. Nonetheless, he still agrees with the nod of his head, “Yeah, do you have a jacket?”

You cover your mouth as you finish the food in your mouth, “Mm, yeah, it’s in the car. Do you mind if I grab it?”

He raises his eyebrows in approval, reaching in his pocket to pull out his car keys, “Did you want me to come with you?”

“Nono, you should eat some of the foods before it cools down, I’ll be quick,”

The two of you offer a smile to one another before you quickly make your way to his car.

Ah, maybe he should tell Jane he’s about to ask her out. She hadn’t responded to his other texts, but maybe she didn’t see the notification.

IMOAsukas: I’ve got flowers in the trunk that I’m going to give to her after the date. When she comes back from the car I’m going to ask her. I’M SCARED [image attachment]

He laughs at his message before clicking send. To think he liked this online stranger a while ago. Crazy, right?

Crazy is what he thinks when he hears the MysMatch notification noise. Sakusa thinks he’s hallucinating as he looks around to find where it came from, had Jane texted back already? When he looks at his own device, the notification center is bare.

His eyes catch on your phone. You had MysMatch, too? All he does is lift your phone. But he couldn’t see what the notification said.

[MysMatch: 1 notification]

Coincidence, maybe?

He double checks to see if you were around. To double check his theory, he sends another keyboard spam to thewurldismine. Sakusa stares back at your phone after the message goes through.

[MysMatch: 2 notification]

And then another. And another. Each time the same jingle met his ear.

You were Jane.

Your phone slips from his hand.

“Hey,” his eyes snap up at you, you were clothed in a thick jacket now, “There’s this really cute pond over there, we should—”

“You’re Jane, aren’t you?”

He observes your facial expression as it goes to a shocked look then forces itself to go back to normal.

“W-What? Who’s Jane?” you ask, nervousness written all over your tone and face.

“Did you know?” he asks, and you just look away, “You did, didn’t you?”

Sakusa Kiyoomi feels like a fool.

“You did this to manipulate me into getting with you, huh? Is that what this was?” his voice is accusatory, and it makes all the blood drain from your face.

“No- No— Kiyoomi, that’s not what-”

“You really had me going, you know? But I should’ve known from the start,” he’s getting up, gathering his stuff. “To think I really liked you,”

He’s not even sparing you one last look before he’s walking away.

Leaving you alone. And in his place, exactly where he sat, lies your phone.

[MysMatch: 7 notifications] displayed on the screen.

Fuck.

SECRET ALLIANCE — CRASHING OUT

PREV | MASTERLIST | NEXT

NOTES.

y/n cried the whole car ride to tsukishima’s house then knocked out

when tsukishima arrived at the park y/n was just sitting on the picnic blanket slowly putting things away

sakusa feels so betrayed but even so regrets leaving y/n behind

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu smau #sakusa x reader #sakusa angst #sakusa smau #raeworks #hq angst #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa fanfic #haikyuu x reader smau #hq smau

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a-soft-hornytiny · 2 years ago

Text

Lecture.

Summary: Your roommate Mingi decides to tease you and you take your revenge.

Word count: 2.8k+

Genre: Smut

Pairing: Mingi x female!reader

Warnings: blow job, hand job, teasing, cum, cum swallowing, oral, dirty talk, bit of voyeurism ig (Let me know if I missed something) be careful while reading.

Notes: this has been chilling in my ideas for a looooong time. I think one of my moots made me write this down, sadly don’t remember who. And hello~ im kinda back?

Taglist: after the cut (let me know if you wanna be added)

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Unfortunately you had started studying right when covid hit and now you were stuck in this university dorm with your hot but annoying roommate Mingi 24/7. You shouldn’t really be complaining, you knew that. He took care of his stuff, did his chores and cleaned after himself. Yes he was a bit loud sometimes when he was recording some of his rap tracks in his room but that was not why you were annoyed.

You were annoyed because you didn’t know if he knew what he was doing when he walked out of the bathroom. Just a towel around his waist. Little water drops running down his chest.

And he decided to always shower right when you had an online lecture.

You couldn’t escape it either since the living room table was the only place in the dorm where the internet was good enough to survive a whole hour and a half lecture. And the bathroom door led to the living room, which led to his room.

Of course he didn’t do anything wrong in particular but how were you supposed to concentrate on “The basics of marine anatomy” when you had “The basics of human anatomy” walking right in front of you.

But you couldn’t say anything until you figured out if he was doing it on purpose or if his extremely innocent image was real. But you weren’t sure how.

Your first attempt was lying about when your lectures were. You told him they were earlier than usual and waited for him to come out of his room, but he didn’t. He went to shower at the same time as usual, which meant it still collided with your schedule. You couldn’t actually skip a lecture just to prove that your roommate wanted to make you horny.

And just as you were nearly convinced that he just had a weird daily schedule of showering at exactly 9:15am, your schedule changed and your lecture was delayed from 9am to 11am. And suddenly he started going to the bathroom at 11:15am.

There was no way that was a coincidence.

And with that little theory you decided to jump into the cold water and the next time he came out of the bathroom, hot as always, you bluntly stared him down.

“Like what you see?” He raised one eyebrow while walking into the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. But you could swear that you saw him smirk.

You didn’t answer. You let your eyes wander from his short pink hair, which he was sloppily drying off with a towel, to his defined shoulders over his long torso and his slightly visible abs.

“I think you should get back to your lecture or your professor will wonder what makes you drool.” He said while picking up an apple from the counter and walking over to his room. Before he closed his door he gave you a quick wink. And that was all the proof you needed. He was doing it on purpose.

And you were gonna get back at him.

Shortly after your first lesson ended you started creating your masterplan. Fight fire with fire they say.

Not only did he know about your schedule but you also knew about his. So right before his evening lecture you decided to take your best underwear and run to the bathroom. You waited a few minutes until you heard him settle down at the living room table before you started your shower.

oh he will regret this you thought while stepping out of the shower and putting on a very revealing bra and fitting panties. You dried yourself off just enough to not make a mess and took a step towards the door. While grabbing the handle you realized how nervous you were. But you wanted him to feel the consequences of his actions and opened the door.

Mingi had just finished a sentence when the bathroom door opened. He thought nothing of it at first but when he saw skin in the corner of his eye he couldn’t help but look up. And there you were.

You tried not to look at him directly while walking to the kitchen sink to get a glass of water but you could feel him staring. The feeling of being scanned from top to bottom gave you goosebumps. Was that how he felt when you stared at him?

Just as you finished your glass of water, you turned around. You had expected him to be subtle. To glance at you from time to time. But you were wrong. So wrong. He had turned towards you on his chair, his legs were spread and his eyes were completely fixated on you.

“Like what you see?” You imitated him while walking to the living room. “I think you should get back to your lecture before your prof-“

“My camera is off and I’m muted.” He interrupted you with a huge smile on his face. But it wasn’t a happy smile, it was a dirty one.

You felt shivers run down your spine. Fuck. It felt like he was a predator and you were his prey. Suddenly you could feel every single centimeter of your exposed skin. And it was burning. His hands were resting on the inside of his thighs. You couldn’t do anything against it when your eyes decided to lock on his crotch. An all too familiar tickling feeling appeared in your stomach as you imagined what may be lying underneath his pants. But he noticed.

“Well you must be down bad for me if you put so much effort in just to get my attention.” You answered while leaning on the table right across from him, giving him a good view of your cleavage. He gulped. Success.

“You could’ve told me instead Mingi, honey. Now we’ve wasted so much precious time.” You grinned at him before turning around and slowly, really slowly walking towards your room. You could feel his eyes on your curves as they moved from side to side.

But before you even realized it, you heard the sound of a chair and felt arms wrap around your waist. You inhaled sharply as he pressed his body against yours. You couldn’t see him but he rested his head on your shoulder and whispered against your neck.

“Oh Y/n, please stay with me a little longer… My lecture is getting boring.” He exhaled against your ear and hugged you even closer. You could feel his desire for you… and you could feel his.. oh my god.

You didn’t even realize that you had held your breath until he let go of you and walked back to the living room table. He was giving you a choice. You could either go to your room, get dressed and forget what happened or you could turn around, possibly risking your perfectly platonic relationship and see what happens next. And both sides had their perks. On one hand you were still burning in embarrassment and wanted to hide in your room for the next week or so. But on the other hand you could feel the little puddle in your panties and the excitement in your bones.

You decided to turn around.

He didn’t say anything while you walked towards him, only giving you a small smile. But it seemed genuine. He seemed genuinely relieved that you decided to turn around. You wanted to sit on his lap but he stopped you.

“Wait a bit, I have to present some of my assignments results soon and I have to turn my camera on for that.” He scratched the back of his head, sorry on one side and upset on the other. He pointed to the chair next to him instead.

It was good that it was midsummer, otherwise you would’ve been cold. But this way it was fine. You sat down next to him, still feeling his eyes on you.

“Mister Song, please present your results now.” You heard the voice of his professor through his laptop. Mingi then unmuted and turned his camera on. While he started talking you tried to take in every detail of his flawless face. He had really sharp features which were a big contrast to his soft image. Your eyes scanned his body as he seemed to be uncomfortable with something. And then your eyes landed on his crotch again.

There was not much left to imagination anymore. You could clearly see the outline of his hard dick in his pants. And he was squirming, obviously bothered by the tightness of his pants. A quick picture rushed through your mind. No, you can’t do that. Or maybe you could? You felt your cheeks heat up as the image got clear in your head. Fuck it. You had nothing to lose.

Without much hesitation you slipped off your chair and kneeled down under the table. Right in front of him. You could see his eyes widen as your hands fiddled with his belt. He started stuttering and his ears turned red.

“And that's when I found a study proclaiming th-that-“ he cleared his throat and sat up straight. You couldn’t help but chuckle slightly as you finally managed to open his pants and pull out the massive tent in his underwear. Mingi cleared his throat again before he continued talking. There was already a wet patch at the top of his dick showing how aroused he actually was and you couldn’t help but touch it softly.

He sharply inhaled, interrupting himself mid sentence. “Is everything alright Mister Song?” His professor asked, making him blush profusely. “Yes sir, I’m good” he answered, his voice still shaking. The vibrations of his deep voice sent shivers down your spine as he continued to elaborate on his studies.

You loved the power you had in this moment. His whole body reacted to everything you did, even if it was just a nervous rush of his eyes. Time to make it worse.

You grabbed his underwear and slowly pulled it down until his cock sprung free. You watched it move as your mouth filled with saliva. Fuck he was huge. The tip of his dick was slightly wet and it stood tall. You wanted to suck him off so bad. And as you were kneeling in front of him you realized that you wanted to do this for a long time.

But as he did for you, you wanted to give him a choice. When he had a short break in talking you looked at him with big question marks in your eyes, your mouth hovering over his dick by just an inch. His eyes were big and a bit puffy as he looked down but he didn’t answer. All that he did was softly taking the back of your head in his right hand and pushing you closer.

That was a yes.

Without any hesitation you opened your mouth widely, allowing him to guide his dick into your mouth. Then he let go.

He tasted amazing. You closed your mouth around his tip and let your tongue run over it a few times. Goosebumps formed on his whole body but you decided not to move. Until he started talking again.

Right when he opened his mouth to start another sentence you wrapped one hand around the shaft of his dick and let your head slide down. You could take about half of him without having to deepthoat, the other half was in your hand. He let out a quiet but pathetic moan before collecting himself and starting anew.

You looked up at him with a mischievous light in your eyes as you started to move your head up and down in a steady rhythm. You hum slightly, the vibration intensifying his pleasure. His breath was heavy but he managed to stay still and keep talking. You moved your hand with your mouth to feel his whole length.

In the corner of your eyes you could see that his thighs were slightly shaking as you stopped and gently licked his tip again. You felt how much he held himself back. He wanted to buckle up his hips, he wanted to moan your name and grab your head to push you deeper. But that had to wait.

“To conclude, my research successfully proved the given statement.” His voice was getting lower and lower and his eyes darkened as his professor thanked him and called on the next in line. You never had someone shut his laptop so fast. You stopped.

“But Mingi, your lecture still goes on for half an hour..” you wanted to protest but he had already pushed the table back to get a better sight of you.

“Who fucking cares.” He said before grabbing your head and pushing you closer. You immediately opened your mouth, willing to take him as deep as he wanted. You felt his dick enter your mouth and touch the back of your throat. You took a deep breath through your nose before you pushed your head down further, taking him completely.

Mingi let out a deep growly moan and looked at you in disbelief. “One one ever took me completely..” he groaned before throwing his head back. “Fuck.”

You felt high. The adrenaline rushed through your veins as you felt his pre-cum leak down your throat. You were good at this. You knew that. His hand was buried in your hair but he didn’t put any pressure on it, he let you do your thing. And you did your thing.

After giving yourself a few seconds to adjust, you started to move your tongue around his base while slowly picking up speed. His moans were angelic. He clearly wasn’t afraid of being loud and it was obvious that he didn’t care what people think. The walls were thin.

“God Y/n why did you never tell me how good you are at this?” He asked, completely out of breath. You couldn’t answer, still having his pulsating cock inside of your mouth. But he didn’t need an answer. All he needed was your wet mouth around his dick.

“This is the exact outcome I had hoped for.” He chuckled, taking a deep breath after. “Fuck I’m already close.” He whispered as his grip in your hands got stronger. A feeling of superiority overcame you as you felt his dick twitch. Then you slid back, continuing your movements with your hands but giving him a dirty smirk.

“If I had known you wanted me to do this, I would’ve done it way earlier..” you grinned, making him moan. “Such a big dick but not brave enough to make a proper move on me.” You were teasing him. You wanted him to feel what you felt. Even though you knew there may be consequences for that.

He let out a small whine. “I’ll return the favor I swear but please don’t let me wait much longer.”

You chuckled and let some salvia drop on his tip before taking him again. You could taste the salt on your tongue. A clear indicator that he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Cum for me handsome..” you whispered under your breath before picking up speed again. His moans got louder, more frequent as his hips began to shake. His right hand was still caught up in your hair but his left hand was grabbing the chair. And he was squeezing the wood so hard that if you didn’t know any better you would think it was about to burst.

“Please Y/n, let me fill you up..” he groaned, getting closer to his high with every little movement of your tongue. _With pleasure_ you thought carefully sucking on his tip.

He started shaking uncontrollably, his head thrown back. “Fuck fuck fuck!” He moaned as his cum started filling your mouth. It tasted amazing and you gladly gulped down every drop of it, still moving slowly to help him ride out his orgasm. His whole body was in high tension as you swallowed the last drop of his cum and let go of him.

His body immediately collapsed on the chair and his breathing started to get more and more regular. You didn’t move. Still kneeling in front of him.

When he finally opened his eyes he gave you a dark smile.

“I think we should move this into your bedroom”

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Tags: @jonghoisbabie @multidreams-and-desires @little-precious-baby @yunhofingers-writes @serialee @crimsonbubble @cometoceantrenches @em--ilysm @deja-vux @kawaiiloli00 @ddeonghwva @aaaaajonghooooo @sansbun @cookies-n-joong @plonys @hijirikaww @nari-nim @yunkiwii @mingi-ivity @racheloveyunho @seongsangsgf @jhmylove @lizsvcks @yunhobabygurl @leoninadecorazones @kerra-that-one-random-fangirl @star1117-archives

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez x reader #ateez story #ateez smut #smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #ateez mingi #song mingi smut #song mingi #mingi #mingi x reader #female!reader #🔥

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hadeslegacyhephgirl · 10 months ago

Text

It was 6 in the morning when Nico received the phone call from Lou Ellen.

"Whaaaat"

"It's Will, Nico. He's in a coma"

The words crashed into him like a tsunami. Fear and worry made a home in his chest

"Where are you?" "Hospital" "… what?" "Ambulance go there before I could call anyone. And our chariot crashed bad, it's basically disintegrated"

"I'm going to wake Jason and Kayla and meet you there" "Can you get Annabeth and Cecil, too?" "Why?" "Annabeth 'cause I'm gonna need brains here. Cecil because- just- because" "Fine. Where?" "Carra Hospital, Room 304, I'll send you a picture" "I'll be there in 10" He hung up

Waking everyone up was… mixed.

All Jason and Kayla had to hear was 'Will' and they got up immediately.

Cecil only came when he heard Lou was there.

Annabeth insisted they take along Piper and Percy.

So it was a party of seven that turned up in room 304.

Cecil wrapped Lou in a hug from behind as Lou talked to Annabeth, who was holding Percy's hand. Kayla and Piper went to see if they could charmspeak a nurse to bring another IV for the nectar Kayla had brought, and Jason went along just in case there were monsters.

Leaving Nico standing by Wills bed, staring at his wounds.

He counted each and every nick and scratch on Will's face and arms (37) and took in the propped up, bandaged leg.

Suddenly he couldn’t bear to be so far away from Will. He climbed into the bed and tucked himself between Will's side and arm, nesting his head on Wills chest, closed his eyes and let the tears come

~*~ (Will)

It was dark

He felt around

There was a fuzzy silence

He couldn't remember anything

Except that he was a boy

Chink

He looked up. Something, a piece of light hung in the air. He touched it.

"Boy" "7 boys, two girls" "Hey, boy-o"

Oh.

These were memories.

So he had to piece himself back together.

He could do that.

He will do that.

Chink

Another shard of light, right next to the first.

"Will" "Hi, Will" "Will?" "William!"

His name was Will

There was solace in knowing his own name

Chink

This time, only one voice rang out

"Solace" The voice sounded annoyed, slightly raspy with a slight Italian accent.

This time it was accompanied by a picture.

Two dark brown eyes, so big and beautiful, yet so dark and knowing they looked like they were staring into your soul.

The image hung in the air, away from the other chinks of light. Like the beginning of a picture. One he would figure out.

~*~ (Nico)

"Should we wake him up?" "Nah, leave him. You know he can't live without his Will" "What if he never wakes up, though?" "He will. He has to. Besides, Nico wouldn't let him die" "But-" "No buts. We'll contact Hades, Hypnos, Apollo, anyone that can help. We're not losing him"

Nico drifted in and out of sleep, not wanting to confront the waking world, but scared of the nightmares that threatened to take him.

Finally he opened his eyes to find Jason sitting in the visitor chair.

"Hey, Neeks." "What time is it?" "A little past-" He checked his watch

"- one in the afternoon. Listen, we're gonna get Will outta here." "how?" "Piper'll be here in a few minutes with the van, Kayla and Annabeth. She's gonna charmspeak him out."

Nico looked down at Will and grabbed his hand. "We're getting you out of here, Will. So don’t you dare go dying on me." ~*~

My name is Will Solace I am 17 years old I am one of Apollo's children My home is Camp Half-Blood I'm a doctor, medic, head councilor

I have siblings, family, friends. And I will get out of here.

~*~

"Careful!" "We are being careful!" "… sorry"

They loaded Will into the back of the van

Piper had, quite literally, worked like a charm. Within ten minutes they had Will on a transportable gurney and out the hospital.

It was a silent drive back to camp

~*~ He'd done it.

The door was nearly complete. A door of light, of memory. The chinks of light had formed the rectangular shape as he'd gathered more and more information.

All that was missing was a doornob.

The picture was done too.

A picture of a boy with raven black hair framing milky white skin and big brown, almost black eyes. Dressed in a leather jacket with ripped black jeans and a black shirt that read Camp Half-Blood

But it felt wrong.

Like there was something missing.

The boy's name.

He began looking though the memories of the door, each piece a word with memories attached to it.

Then he remembered.

There was one that only had one memory attached

Maybe it was longer?

Hesitantly he touched it.

"Solace"

Silence. He waited "Fine." The Italians voice again.

"There we go. See, it wasn't so hard, was it?" His own voice now. "But just three days, you hear me?" "Sure, unless I need to keep you longer" "Solace, I swear-" "C'mon, Neeks." "Do not call me that" "Alright Death Breath-" "Or that" "Zombie Lord?" "Absolutely not. It's Nico, full stop" "Alright, Sunshine" "… that's okay too, I guess"

Ding

The picture of the boy - Nico - suddenly seemed vibrant, alive.

And the door had a doornob.

Hesitantly he reached for it.

Back home.

Back to Nico

If there was any chance the son of Hades could love him back.

~*~

It had been a week since Will had gone under the coma.

Five days since he'd been moved to the infirmary

Jason had given up on trying to get Nico to leave Wills bedside, except to shower every so often.

So it was just Will and Nico and silence.

Silence that was broken with a raspy voice coming from the bed

"Nico?"

Nico looked up into Wills brilliant blue eyes that were open and he was awake.

A sob wrenched from his throat and he flung himself into Wills arms.

"Hey, Sunshine. How long has it been?"

Nico sniffed and buried his head into Wills shoulder.

"A week" "oh." Nico sniffed again and looked up into very much open celeste blue eyes "But your back now, right?" "Yeah, Sunshine. I'm right here. And I always will be."

~*~

#solangelo #solangelo fanfiction #angst #fanfiction #nico di angelo #pjo #will solace

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daydreamvalley · 1 year ago

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October Sunsets (1) - nanami kento

𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 Summary: You daydream about a sweet conversation you had earlier in the day with Nanami, right before he left for a job in Shibuya.

Content: Fluff + slight angst

7:00 pm, October 31st, Haneda Airport, sounds of passengers trying to find their seats and infants crying filled the air while you sat in a frozen state, looking down at your phone screen with furrowed brows. The single ticks next to your images still stared back at you. Pending. It had been ten minutes, yet he was not owning up to his part of the request he made. Nanami asked for two images, one containing evidence of the bread he recommended you try at the airport cafe. The other is a photo of your choice, just not a picture of yourself since you'll already be bombarding him with plenty throughout the flight.

Your second undelivered message read: "Bossy much? Here you go, it's a pretty sunset, don't you think?"

In your opinion, it was. It was taken while facing a large airport window that gave you a view of the departing planes. The autumn sky was free of clouds, with only clear hues of orange and purple in the image. Its quality made up for the previous blurry bread photo. Exhaling in defeat, you accepted that he may have begun the big task he hinted at having to do that evening. Denmark was fifteen hours away. You'd hoped to depart in a better mood after an anticipated message from your ex-coworker making fun of your poor photography skills. Even two grey ticks would suffice. Your cheeks started to warm just at the thought of his teasing, but you couldn’t let your mind wander or else you wouldn’t stop. Turning to your right, you realized your isle seat was going to be empty, freeing whichever lucky soul from witnessing the nightmare of you smiling at yourself alone. Though, he didn’t deserve that much since you should be upset with him. After shutting off the power on the phone, annoyingly shoving it into your tote bag, and then letting out a scoff, the last bit of your parting conversation with him suddenly replayed in your mind.

The two of you walked side by side on the pavement to your apartment building, “Did you pack the neck pillow?” He had already begun interrogating.

“The one that you bought for me. Now imagine the drama if I forgot it.”

“I’m the only person who owns your extra apartment key, so try not to forget anything. Shoko wants me on call later tonight, and I most likely won’t get your messages.

“Okay, but you keep dismissing what I asked earlier. Are you sure there’s nothing you’re curious about in Denmark that you want me to relay to you while I’m there?”

“Nothing my family hasn’t already told me. At this age, I only care to know that I have lineage there. I doubt anyone related to me in Denmark knows I exist. I'm also a sorcerer, and jujutsu sorcery is a shitstorm. Can I ask that you bring me lots of pastries?”

“I could run into your distant cousin and you’re still thinking about bread.” You stop mid-walk to face him in disbelief. Still curious as to how he could address such a deep part of himself like it's an uninteresting topic.

“I'm not curious about it. Baking, on the other hand. Where do I even begin? Is the bakery outside your office building still there? Nothing will compare to that place. Expensive but it was worth it.” Nanami asks, stopping your walk to the entrance of your apartment building to pull out his cell phone.

“It’s not a historical monument. Of course, it’s still there.”

“Then I’ll replace your presence in the cafe while you're away. The leather couch in the back corner is still your favorite right?” He was now taking pictures of the bright dawn above him.

“Replacing me also means talking to my coworkers. Your ex-coworkers.”

He cringed at the idea, “Hmm. You were the only person I talked to there.”

You giggle at the current visual of him leaning back like a photographer with one eye closed. “Exactly. You can admit you miss your bread. Don’t use me as an excuse. Also, the sky isn’t that pretty at this time why’d you take a picture?”

“If it feels right to me, I snap the photo. Not thinking too much about it at the time makes looking back at it more special.” He firmly states while he showed you the image. “It’s a feeling.”

“Don't take offence, but I’m not sure I get it.” You give a sheepish smile, honestly wishing you could understand his vision.

“None taken. It’s nothing complicated. Try it today. When you have a gut feeling that your memory won’t serve you in the future when you reminisce about a specific day, document it with the sky.” He advises while slipping the phone back into his cream-white blazer's inner pocket. “Send them to me too. I’ll create a folder for our sunsets.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. You get pastries, sunsets, and travel photos. I want more than a folder in your camera roll when I return.” You sternly said, with your hands on your hips, but quickly lost your confident stance when the brisk air pricked your bare arms, causing a full-body shiver.

Nanami maintained eye contact while removing his blazer to snug it around your shoulders.

“You’re right. How about a date then?”

Your eyes widened. For the new warmth that blanketed your skin and the fact that he had finally said it. The one word you’ve been yearning to hear from him since you started spending time together after he left the insurance company. The event that could lift the barrier. The barrier which maintained your label as his good friend. An ex-colleague. Turning the potentially one-sided crush you’ve had on him into a mutual pursuit.

“Not at the bakery.” You mentally slap yourself for being so quick to respond. Thinking you had removed all the chances to come off as cool.

A deep, raspy chuckle left his body, “No. Not the bakery. I’ll worry about the location. You just show up the same as always, lovely and perfect. The experience will be befitting of you.”

“If you say so.” You bashfully comment. Not being able to meet his eyes, you lifted a hand to playfully shove his arm, but he gently held it in place.

With the same gentle manner, he interlocked your fingers. His swift action made you ponder, whether the blazer was doing its job or the brown eyes beaming at you was increasing your body temperature.

Softly grazing his fingers across your knuckles, he brought the back of your hand to his lips. Placing a tender kiss.

“Don’t become a stranger.”

“Impossible.”

11:14 pm, October 31st, somewhere in the air.

A hand tugged on the cream-white blazer you used as a blanket, succeeding at waking you up from a nap.

“Sorry to disturb you, ma’am. I’m delivering the next meal to you now.” The soft-spoken flight attendant apologized. She placed the tray on the vacant tray table.

Almost forgetting where you were, you half sleepily heartened to her, “It’s not a problem. Thank you.”

Barely looking in the right direction, it took a couple of seconds, paired with an infant's cries to recall your location.

I’m not suffering again. Where are my EarPods?

Digging into the blazer pockets, you felt a heavy metal. Shit. The weight of your heart had become heavier. The chances of you shitting yourself were on par with the crying infant on the plane. You might have just ruined the chances of having your first date with Nanami.

You hijacked the guy’s phone. Any audacity you thought you had to be frustrated with him for not responding to your texts instantly vanished.

Okay! First time writing a longer piece so be nice.

Will probably do a part two if anyone wants it!

Edit: we did it (Part 2)

This is rough idea so let me know what details I can articulate better.

It’s also on Ao3, if you would prefer to continue the rest there!

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sluttyten · 1 year ago

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You In My Arms

Chapter 7: An Eye For An Eye

full masterlist || haechan masterlist || YIMA chapter index

summary: now that the truth is out in the open, you find it harder than ever to keep yourself from wanting Haechan constantly. But at least now you know that he wants you just as much.

length: 9,317 words

tags: voyeurism, exhibitionism, slowburn, friends to lovers, masturbation, public sex, fingering, general perversion, smut

previous chapter || next chapter

Waking the next morning, you stare up at the ceiling for a good long while. Remembering yesterday, remembering last night.

You got the truth from Haechan. You shared secrets.

He kissed you.

And still, you feel giddy about it, like a young girl with her first kiss.

Haechan kissed you.

You kissed him.

You cover your face with your hands to muffle the excited sound that spills from your lips.

What happens now?

You go through your day as normal. You clean the apartment, you and your roommate make a grocery run in the mid-afternoon, and then as the day creeps towards evening, your thoughts start to turn and focus exclusively on Haechan. Thinking of what you’d said to him before he first kissed you. An eye for an eye; a truth for a truth. You want equality, which means he’s watched you, so you want to watch him. Properly watch him instead of just from a distance in the dark, though you didn’t share that particular truth with him last night.

Your roommate leaves for the night to go on a date with her partner and then stay at their place. Which leaves you to fend for yourself for the night. Before she got into this relationship, the two of you spent many Friday and Saturday nights together here in the living room, bundled up in blankets with takeout from a variety of your favorite places. But tonight you either have to decide on a place for yourself, or you can throw together dinner from what you’d bought earlier at the grocery store.

Unsure what you really want, you just play around on your phone until your brain and your stomach can come to an agreement on what to eat.

You scroll on Twitter for a little while, get lost down a TikTok rabbit hole until the sky outside is dark and the time staring back at you reads quarter after nine. You switch to Instagram, and right there at the top of your screen it shows that one haechanahceah has added to his story.

You tap on it.

He’s holding his phone close to his face as he laughs, the blue sky of twilight barely visible behind him along with a flash of YangYang’s face and toothy smile. The sound of wind rushes against the microphone. The camera flips and you see a skateboard under his feet, pavement rushing by, and then a path stretching out along the river.

The next part to his story: pictures of food covering a table. Haechan tagged several other people, though YangYang and Ten’s are the only usernames that you recognize from them.

Drinks. Everyone clinking their glasses together.

And then the most recent addition to his story is just a simple picture of the moon shining like a fat pearl in the velvet night sky. There’s a song playing, lyrics scrolling over the image of the moon, and it’s a song of neediness, desire, longing.

It was posted five minutes ago.

And just as you’re about to close out of the app and order yourself some dinner, your phone chimes with a message.

“Are you doing anything right now?” From Haechan.

When you don’t answer immediately, you receive a second message from him. “I saw that you just watched my story. Don’t pretend like you’re not on your phone.”

You call him.

He answers immediately.

Judging by the lack of wind, you assume he’s not outside any longer. And furthermore, the silence in the background makes you think he might not even be with the others anymore.

“Hello?” He says, a little breathlessly.

“What did you want?”

Silence, then a slight rustling sound. Then, “I was just wondering if you were free or if you’re busy. I’ve been out with some guys all day, I just got home, and I want to send you something.”

“Oh?” You cradle your phone against your face. “Like what?”

“How was it that you phrased it yesterday?” Haechan pauses, as if thinking, then says, “Oh, right. You said you want equality. You want to watch me, since I’ve watched you.”

Your heart thuds in your chest, sending pulsing heat to your extremities. “Haechan….”

“So let me ask again,” his voice dips lower, asking, “Are you doing anything right now? Can I send you something?”

All thoughts of dinner have been removed from your mind. The only hunger you feel now is for what Haechan is offering you through the phone.

“I’m not doing anything.” You hope your voice isn’t shaking, that you don’t sound nervous or over-excited. “Send it.”

He laughs a little under his breath, and you know that you failed at sounding so cavalier. The eagerness and hunger bled through in your voice.

“Alright, I’m hanging up now.” Haechan’s own voice is light with amusement and excitement. “I’ll send it shortly.”

After the call goes dead on his end of the line, you sit there, clutching your phone in your hands, perched on the edge of the sofa. You wonder if you should order food, if you should just try to eat something. It’s late. If you’re going to eat tonight, you’d better do it now before you get so swept up that you forget to eat altogether. And where do you want to watch this video at? Do you want to just watch it out here? Or should you close yourself away in the privacy of your bedroom, snug in your bed to witness exactly what you’ve been longing to see for so long now?

You think back to the night that started all of this interest in watching and being watched. The night of the hot tub. The first time that you felt there could genuinely be a little something more than just friendship between you and Haechan as you shared that bed with him. You remember longingly noticing the bulge in the front of his shorts when he’d emerged from the hot tub’s water, and you remember about an hour later when he’d stripped beside you in the dark. It had been quite dark, but not dark enough that you hadn’t caught the barest glimpse of his ass and just the shadowy hint of his cock.

But now? Now your curiosity will be satisfied.

You snack on something you pull from the pantry, waiting and waiting and waiting. After twenty minutes, you send him a text with a bunch of question marks.

“Patience baby” is all you get back from Haechan.

But the thing is, you’re feeling rather impatient. You’re horny now, excited thinking about getting to watch him. You do move to your bedroom, closing the door, turning the lights down, tucking yourself in with your phone held to your chest. You’re going to enjoy this.

Finally after too fucking long, your phone chimes again.

When you open the message, the rectangle of the video is just black.

You tap play, and it fills your screen, still black.

For a moment, you think something’s wrong with the video, but then you hear sound. The rustle of sheets. A shuddering breath. Something moving in the dark, which you realize a moment later is the shadow of some part of Haechan’s body against the faint light of his computer’s blinking power button.

What is this? You wanted to see him, not just hear him.

And then the video is illuminated as his bedside lamp is clicked on. The phone camera passes over rumpled sheets. There’s a flicker of tanned skin, the curve of his bare thigh. You hold your breath as at last the camera focuses on the fit of his fingers around his dick.

It’s pretty and tan, just like the rest of him.

His cock is actually bigger than you imagined it would be. You figured Haechan would be a little below average in terms of size, if you’re being honest, but the cock you’re looking at on your phone screen exceeds your expectations. He’s probably average in length, but damn, he’s thick from base to the tip, which is a pretty shade of pink that reminds you of his lips. He’s got a perfect cock, in your opinion. Right away, you want him in your mouth, your throat aches for it.

And then you just sit back and watch the video, admiring the way he touches himself, the sounds he makes, the way that as he gets close to orgasm his hips twitch off the bed to rock into the circle of his fingers. You drink everything in, hungrily consuming the video to notice all the small details. The small scattering of moles across his belly and thighs and his arm and hand. The dusting of hair leading from below his navel to the base of his cock.

You’ve been with a decent amount of men. You’ve seen cocks, touched them, tasted them, had them inside you. But you’ve never had Haechan’s, and the longer you sit here watching, the more that you feel like this video is just a cruel tease.

Is that how he felt while watching the video feed of you masturbating in the office? Like it was just a cruel tease of what he couldn’t have?

Haechan moans your name in the video and your belly goes tight and hot at the sound, a whined praise from his lips.

How long would it take you to get to his apartment right now?

His hand flies over his length in the video, his moans like music to your ears. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, “Baby, bet your pussy would be so tight around me right now, so wet and slippery. I know you get super wet. Are you wet right now?”

Fuck. Yeah, you are. You’re not touching yourself though, too caught up in simply watching him to want to take away from it. But your core is throbbing with heat, panties soaked through.

“You’d be taking my cock so well, angel.” Haechan gives one sharp thrust into his hand, his heels digging into the mattress as his hips lift off the bed. “Do you think you’d be a good girl for me? Do whatever I ask? Would you get on your knees and beg for me?”

If you were there right now, you certainly would be on your knees, mouth open wide, tongue out for his cock. You would let Haechan make such a mess of you. You would let him cum on your tits and your throat in public, and you would proudly wear that pearl necklace like a prize.

“Or would I need to punish you? You’ve shown me how naughty you can be.” He moans, passing his thumb right over the weeping slit of his cock. “What would even be a good punishment for you? Taking you out in public, teasing you, but not letting you cum? Sit you on my cock in front of all of our friends, tease you nice and slow while you keep my cock warm. But, no, you would enjoy that too much, wouldn’t you? What if I didn’t allow you to cum? Would that be punishment enough? I’d have to take you home, angel, edge you for as many times as you nearly gave us away.”

Your toes curl at the sound of his words, and you feel your pussy clench around nothing. You can’t take it anymore.

You slip your fingers inside your panties, dipping them through your wetness.

Haechan moans again, and your entire body buzzes and flares with heat in response.

“I’ve never really done anything in public before, not quite like you,” Haechan says, still fisting his cock. “Only ever when I’m tucked out of sight, in semi-privacy, or after dark.” His hand holding his phone shakes, his breath shudders. “But you make me want to try getting a little riskier.”

You can just imagine it now. Taking Haechan out with you like you’d tried to do with a few of those random guys you hooked up with. Taking him to the park to have some fun on a picnic, tucked in a corner of the aquarium as the pretty fish swim by, fucking around in the car on a hot summer day with the windows down and your sweaty bodies exposed to the sunlight.

You fuck yourself on your fingers, trying to keep your eyes focused on the video, but your vision grows hazy with lust, fantasies sweeping into your mind to overlay the visual of Haechan squeezing his hand around his cock with a groan, bucking his hips up into the tight grip of his fist as he finally cums with your name on his lips. Pearly drops coat his fingers, landing on his belly, and he keeps touching until he cums weakly again, spurting from his cock onto his belly too, all of it gathering in the dip of his belly button.

You want to lick him clean, gather it all on your tongue and let it leak over his dick again before you blow him just to see how quick his refractory period is.

You replay the video, and this time you touch yourself. You fold a pillow on the bed, straddle it, and ride your fingers while you hump the pillow, keeping the volume on his video loud where your phone lies beside your knee. You close your eyes and imagine that you’re riding him, fucking yourself on his cock instead of your fingers, that your clit is gaining friction from contact with him instead of your pillow. You imagine that it’s his hand coming down on your ass, a sharp smack that leaves your skin smarting; that it’s his fingers that pinch at your nipples; his shoulders that your fingernails dig into instead of the mattress.

You slump to the side, fingers still slowly pumping as your body trembles from your orgasm. Your free hand searches the bed for your phone and when you swipe out of the video, you see Haechan has sent you a few more messages that you somehow missed.

One is a closeup photo of his belly, shiny and wet with his cum. One is a simple question of “did you like it?” And then the third and final message is just a steamy mirror selfie, where only a circle to show his face has been wiped clean on the mirror, and the rest of his nude body is blurred out by the steam.

You simply respond with a picture of your hand, cum stretching between your fingers, more wetness dripping down your palm. “I liked it.”

Monday morning, you don’t see Haechan at all before you go into your meeting with Johnny. It’s probably for the best. You wouldn’t be able to focus on the meeting if you’d seen Haechan; instead you’d be lost in dreamland, thinking of his cock, the rasp of his voice as he moaned your name.

So you walk into the meeting with a clear head, which makes it run smoothly and successfully. Johnny is proud of you, he’d told you, stating that you worked hard and efficiently on the project, finishing it in less time than it would’ve taken anyone else. And he doesn’t say it in so many words necessarily, but he does hint that there might be a promotion coming up for you.

You leave the meeting ecstatic, and the feeling carries you through the rest of the day.

Tuesday, Haechan gets called away for a business meeting on the other side of the city. Wednesday, it’s your turn. Annoyingly, now that you’re finished with the project and finally thought you’d have some free time, something has always got one or the other of you busy.

You’re never at work at the same time for that whole week, and that weekend he goes home to visit his family.

You receive a video then of him on the beach at home, the sunset stretching out before him, and Haechan jerking off. He sends it along with the message “since I once saw you by the ocean, this is only fair,” which he explains he meant he watched you and Renjun in that outdoor shower in Thailand.

You message each other back and forth constantly that weekend. Just casual conversations and then also the deeper, dirtier kind of conversations. More talk about his watching and your enjoyment of being watched, his new experimentation with exhibitionism. You talk about more things — other kinks and interests. His somewhat unsurprising interest in consensual non-consent. Your interest in a threesome, which you’ve never participated in; Haechan follows this up in recounting what he’s experienced.

Come the following Monday morning, following all of that talk with none of the action, you’re itching with the need to see him. To actually be in the same space as Haechan.

That need for proximity only grows when you walk into the office and spot Haechan sitting at his desk just a short distance from yours.

He’s sipping at an iced americano, spinning back and forth in his chair as he stares at the desktop computer’s screen. He turns to catch your eye as you pass him. Your fingertips brush the back of his chair, just barely touching the fabric of his shirt, but he turns his entire seat to follow you with his eyes.

“You smell nice today,” he says.

You turn to look at him, and Haechan’s eyes are currently trailing down your legs. The skirt you’d worn today is perhaps a bit shorter than entirely appropriate, but it has captured his attention fully. He hungrily stares at your thighs, your calves, the way that your heels hug your feet. And then his attention sweeps up to your face again.

“Do you have plans later?” He asks even as you keep walking away to your own desk.

You don’t, and you tell him that, but before he can suggest any plans for you and him, someone else speaks up from where you hadn’t even noticed her.

Johnny's secretary.

“Oh, Channie!” You cringe as she uses a nickname for Haechan. “Mr. Suh was actually wondering if you could help him out later. You have a friend that’s a mechanic, right? Mr. Suh's car has been acting up, so he was wondering if you wouldn’t mind taking it for your friend to look at?”

Haechan barely conceals his scowl. The friend in question is Chenle, who recently took his history of wealth, an interest in the inner workings of luxury cars and what he’d learned while studying for a business degree, and he opened a car repair shop business — a far cry from the culinary degree he’d mentioned pursuing when you last saw him.

“Sure, I can take it to him. But his shop is expensive. He typically only works on luxury cars,” Haechan says. And as far as you’re aware, Mr. Suh drives a Hyundai to and from work everyday, not exactly a luxury vehicle.

The secretary just smiles. “That’s fine! Mr. Suh recently upgraded to a BMW.”

Hours later, as you’re leaving for the day, you follow Haechan down along with Mr. Suh's secretary to see the car. It is in fact a shiny, brand new BMW. You wouldn’t think there would be anything wrong with it at all since it looks like it just rolled right out of the factory into this spot in the parking garage.

The secretary passes the keys over to Haechan, and you don’t miss the nervous way his eyes widen as he takes in the feel of the keys in his hand and then eyes the length of the flawless and expensive car.

“You’re sure he wants me to take it? He doesn’t want to? I could give you directions, and give my friend a call.” Haechan’s fingers close around the keys.

She shakes her head, smiling widely as she looks from Haechan to you and then back again. “Mr. Suh has a flight to catch for that conference in Germany. So he’s unavailable to take the car right now, and since he’ll be out of the country for the next week, it just makes sense to have it get worked on while he’s gone.” And then she passes a card over to Haechan as well. “You can charge the mechanic’s bill on this card. And once the car’s finished if you wouldn’t mind just bringing it right back here, and you can leave the key and the card in his office. Thank you, Channie, we both really appreciate it!”

And then she’s walking off, leaving you and Haechan standing there to gaze at the car.

“You do have your license, don’t you?” You ask.

Haechan nods wordlessly. “Yeah, but shit. I’ve never even been in a car this nice; I’ve definitely never driven one as nice as this.”

He unlocks the car, and you watch as he nervously reaches for the door handle. The door opens smoothly, soundlessly, unlike your car which groans loudly pretty much every time you touch it.

The interior of the car is a cool, sleek black. The dashboard is a screen that comes to life the moment Haechan turns the car on. The engine purrs, and Haechan settles into the driver’s seat, making himself right at home.

“How do I look?” He asks, gripping the steering wheel and staring ahead through the windshield. “Do I look like I could drive one of these?”

You laugh. “You look hot, Haechan. Like a very, very wealthy man who uses flashy cars to impress people.”

He glances over at you. “Is that what you think Johnny's doing? Using the car to impress, possibly to compensate?”

“Impress yes. Compensate?” You look Haechan in the eye as you say, “I think you’d be the one who could tell me that. Does he have anything to compensate for?” Haechan’s admitted that he’s watched Johnny fuck the secretary through his hidden cameras, so he should know if Johnny's gotten a flashy car to compensate for dick size or his skills in bed.

Haechan shakes his head. “No, he’s fine. Just to impress people then. And it’s definitely working because I’m impressed.” He buckles his seatbelt, adjusting the seat height and distance from the steering wheel, readjusting the mirrors. He does look very hot in the driver’s seat of this nice car. The suit he’d worn to the office today and the pair of sunglasses that he plucks from the cup holder certainly help with the vibe.

He closes the car door, and a moment later rolls down the dark-tinted window so you can see him again.

“You want to come with me?”

You lean in, resting your elbows on the edge of the window. Your face is only inches away from Haechan’s, and that delicious fragrance he wears is all you know for a few delirious seconds. You can envision yourself sliding onto the buttery soft leather of the passenger seat. You can envision convincing Haechan to pull over into another parking garage or a park’s parking lot, into anywhere at all and letting you ride him in the driver's seat of this fancy car, finally getting to experience his cock for real.

You think you can see some of your fantasy playing out behind the dark brown of his eyes too. He’s smiling with a little edge of heat.

“I shouldn’t.” You take a step back. “I know I said I didn’t have plans, and I haven’t seen Chenle in a while so it would be nice to see him, but I have a feeling that if I get in that car with you…” You meet Haechan’s gaze. “I feel like I’d be distracting you a little too much. Or at least I would want to.”

Your gaze drifts from his eyes to the curl of his hand on the wheel. You don’t think you’d even be out of this parking garage before you’d already be tugging his hand to rest on your thigh, urging his fingers up beneath your skirt. After a week of being denied Haechan’s physical presence in your life, a week filled with nothing but want for every part of him, you feel like an addict being presented with their drug of choice, and it’s almost impossible for you to say no to what he’s offering. But you’re trying so hard to not jump Haechan in your boss’s car.

“What you’re saying is I’m too sexy right now in this car. You’d be throwing yourself at me?” He grins.

That’s not what you said, but yes, it’s exactly what you meant.

You take another step back. “I’m going to go home. You take this car to Chenle for him to work on. Maybe let me know when you’re done, and we’ll see about making some plans then. If not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Again, you look at his hand on the wheel, the way it flexes, squeezing around the curve of the steering wheel, and your mind flashes to the videos he’s sent you — his hand on his cock, fingers dripping in cum.

You walk away, taking the elevator to the third level of the parking garage where you’d left your car this morning, and then you sit in your car for a few moments to compose yourself before you head home. Your thoughts, as much as you try to steer them away from the crafted fantasy of fucking Haechan in a fancy car, keep returning there. Again and again on the drive home.

You’ve just arrived home, just stepped out of your car to head up to your apartment, when you receive a message from Haechan.

Without hesitation, you open it.

A video. At first you can only see the interior of the car, and then the camera swings down to focus on his lap. Or, more specifically, on his bare cock.

“Traffic,” Haechan says. “I’m stuck in traffic, and I’ve got a boner because all I can think about is how if you were here with me right now, you’d be throwing yourself at me.” He laughs a little. “Okay, maybe I’d be the one unable to keep my hands to myself. But unfortunately, right now my hands are all I’ve got for myself, and we’re barely moving in traffic, so I just, ah, thought I’d bide my time productively. I said it the other night, you make me want to take risks in public.”

He’s just rocking his hips off the seat, driving his cock against his hand.

“The fact this isn’t even my car makes this even hotter. Do you think our boss and secretary have fucked in here yet, or am I the one breaking it in? Shit, if you were here this could be your hand around me. Or maybe your lips. We could break this car in together, would you like that? The windows are so dark though, no one would be able to see you.”

He strokes his cock with a moan. The car lurches forward, you can see his thigh relax and clench as he releases and then steps on the brake.

“Gotta be careful,” he mumbles to himself. But then he’s right back at it, stroking his cock, and it rubs against Johnny's steering wheel by accident. His fingers squeeze around his tip and you can see the shiny smear of his precum against the material of the steering wheel.

He thrusts his hips up, another moan breaking through his lips.

“It’s gonna be a mess when I cum,” he grunts. “Knew I should’ve brought you for easy cleanup. Could’ve cum in your mouth, made you swallow every drop.”

Your body reacts to that. A lurching feeling of arousal in your core, imagining cleaning up Haechan’s cum.

His hand stills on his cock for a moment, just the thumb teasing slow circles around the tip, and then he releases his hold with a curse. “We’re moving again.”

And the video ends.

It’s not until that moment that you realize you’ve just been standing frozen there beside your car this whole time. You pocket your phone and head up to your apartment to take a cold shower. When you get out, you have a new message.

Another video.

In this one, the phone is at a different angle and his pants are gone, his shirt is lifted up to expose his belly. And he’s quickly jerking off. There’s no finesse, no teasing or dirty talk. It’s just a quick, short clip of Haechan’s hand moving fast and tight, bitten back moans escaping his teeth as he cums over his fist, dripping down onto his thighs and onto that flawless leather seat.

“I get why you like this,” Haechan says, bringing the phone up so you can see his chin. “Some man just walked by where I’m parked on the street outside Chenle’s place. The windows are dark so he couldn’t see in, but I had the window rolled down just a little, and he definitely heard me moaning. He was looking, and that’s when I came. What do you think he’d have done if he actually saw me?”

Exactly. That’s exactly what you like about exhibitionism. The thrill of getting away with it and the questions of what if you hadn’t gotten away with it. What would they do if they caught you?

In the video clip you watch Haechan wipe his hand clean on the inside of his undershirt before he tugs his button-down back into place. He straightens his tie and his jacket, then he manages to slide his boxers back up over his hips with one hand.

“Do you think he’s got any napkins or tissues in here?” Haechan mumbles, reaching around to rustle through the contents of Johnny's fancy car. “I need something to wipe my jizz up with.”

You smile to yourself, noting the blend of amusement and frustration in Haechan’s voice.

Eventually he finds something, and he wipes and smears the glob of his cum that had landed on the leather seat.

It’s then that he slides his phone onto the car’s dashboard, giving you a view of the sky through the windshield. He makes some noise that you assume is him pulling his pants back up, and then he finally picks his phone back up again, showing his face on the video.

“Anyway, I’d better head inside now and pass the car off to Chenle.” The car door opens, the sounds of the wind and traffic mixing with the sound of his voice. “I’ll have to see how long this takes, but maybe we can still make plans.”

You hope so.

You spend a little while after that taking care of the Haechan-inspired itch that needs scratching, feeding yourself with fantasies featuring him. You keep expecting to be interrupted by him texting or calling about plans, but you’ve taken care of yourself with no word from him.

You wait, going about your afternoon doing some laundry and a little cleaning around the apartment. All of it is meant to distract you from being nervous about the reality of making plans with Haechan. Plans that you assume will only lead to finally having sex with him.

And when he finally sends you a message, your heart takes up an erratic pace.

But it’s not quite the message you’d hoped for.

“Chenle wants to hang out. He already messaged Renjun, YangYang, and Xiaojun. Do you want to come?”

Now, those aren’t exactly the plans you had in mind, and even as your heart swells with disappointment, you agree. You do want to see your friends, especially Chenle who you haven’t seen in quite a while. But considering that you’re meeting up with all of them for dinner, that they all have a tendency to want to chat late into the night, and since you’re picking up YangYang and Xiaojun on the way, you don’t find your odds of any actual plans with Haechan happening tonight.

Xiaojun’s girlfriend has basically moved in with him, so she comes along too, and your car is crowded on the way to meet the other three for dinner. And the booth table Chenle booked is even more crowded.

Everyone is squeezed in so tightly that Haechan has you pressed up against the wall. Across from you, Xiaojun pulled his girlfriend onto his lap. The woman that comes over to take your order only offers an apologetic smile and says that this is the only size table they had left.

It’s fine. Really.

You’re all very close friends, so if some of you have to sit with arms around each other, ankles knocking and twisting beneath the table, that’s fine.

And if it means that at some point after your order is put in and the first round of drinks are served, Haechan tugs one of your legs up over his so he can slide just a little closer to you and save a little extra space for Renjun on his other side, well… you’re not going to complain.

He glances your way, a sparkle in his eye.

His hand doesn’t leave your thigh.

You’re still wearing a skirt, though it’s not the short one you’d worn to work today.

This is a longer, casual skirt. One that’s loose and floaty enough that when Haechan starts walking his fingers along your thigh, the fabric easily starts bunching up, gathering beneath his fingers and drawing up your leg.

You tamp down the urge to shiver when the pads of his warm fingers make contact with your bare thigh.

Liquor burns the back of your throat as you quickly drink the alcohol the woman brought to your table. You hope that the flush of alcohol in your cheeks might conceal the way that you can already feel yourself blushing beneath Haechan’s touch.

And then he starts stroking his fingers over your inner thigh. Moving them back and forth, fingers drumming gently a melody that you can’t determine.

The frustrating thing is that you’re in a tizzy, but Haechan is perfectly cool. He’s maintaining a conversation with the others while he builds the heat inside your core.

And then he squeezes your thigh.

Palm flat to your skin. Fingers pressing in.

You snap your head to the side to look at him, your hand dropping beneath the table to cover his hand on your thigh. Your leg draped over his twitches, foot kicking out.

Unfortunately your accidental kick makes contact.

Chenle frowns, looking around at your side of the table. “Who just kicked me?”

“Sorry,” Haechan apologizes quickly, covering for you.

Judging by the way that Chenle moves and the slight thump beneath the table, paired with Haechan’s grunt and jolt, you assume Chenle landed a retaliatory kick.

Haechan pouts and starts to whine, playing it up dramatically. The others roll their eyes and tease him as he reaches for Renjun asking for him to kiss it better, as he tells Chenle he owes him dessert because his kick had been an accident while Chenle’s had been fully intentional. He asks YangYang to kiss it better, too, to which YangYang flips Haechan off.

Then he turns to you. “Will you kiss it better?”

Renjun laughs into his drink, nearly choking on it.

He’s known about your crush on Haechan for ages, so you’re sure he finds that comment very amusing.

You glare at Renjun from over Haechan’s shoulder. Haechan pouts at you, and as much as you desperately want to kiss his soft-looking lips, you’re not going to kiss him in front of your friends right now. “Just take a drink, and you’ll forget about your boo-boo.” You pick up his glass and lift it to his lips for him, tipping it back and pouring it into his mouth.

Haechan holds eye contact with you, and a pulse of something races along your spine.

Some of his drink spills from the corner of his mouth, and he lifts a hand to your wrist, pulling your hand and the glass away from his mouth. “I feel better already.”

Beneath the table, he massages your thigh again.

When the food is served, you would’ve thought he’d need both hands to eat, but to your surprise and satisfaction, Haechan keeps one hand firmly on your thigh, the other to handle his chopsticks.

You do your best to maintain conversation with the others. After a while, once you’re used to the weight of Haechan’s hand on your thigh and the press of his fingers along the sensitive skin of your bare upper thigh, conversation and concentration get a little easier. You eat and laugh and talk with your friends all while Haechan’s fingers roam higher.

It’s only once the food on the table is dwindling, once Haechan has eaten his fill apparently, that he turns his focus back to teasing you properly.

He’s in the middle of talking to Xiaojun about some culinary festival. His fingers slide higher than they’ve been yet, brushing the soft edge of your panties.

You choke a little on your food, and his fingers withdraw for a moment as attention around the table turns to you.

“I’m fine.” You cough, reaching for your glass, gulping it down quickly to cool the heat consuming you.

Xiaojun resumes talking. Haechan’s fingers return to your panties, slower this time and accompanied by a glance to the side from him. Checking with you.

You slide your hand down to his again, giving him a nod of approval, and applying a little pressure to get his hand moving again.

The corner of his lips turn up in a barely-suppressed smile.

The smile grows when his fingers brush along the center of your panties, and he finds them damp. You try to steady your breathing, try not to lean into Haechan as he circles his middle finger over your clit, as he strokes along your slit over your panties, working you up, making you wetter.

You lean back against the cushioned back of the booth, shoulders pressed into the corner.

Your hand shakes when you lift your glass to your lips. You hope no one notices. You hope no one notices the attempt you make at taking a steadying breath. Pray no one notices that your eyes are growing distant, your face warm, your posture dissolving.

Haechan eases his fingers inside your panties, and you slide a little lower in your seat to spread your legs just a bit wider.

You’re reminded of that first time with Renjun. This is a very similar set of people, but this time you don’t have to stare longingly across the room at Haechan’s thighs. Now you’re able to drop a hand to his lap, your hand curving over his gorgeous thighs wrapped snug in his suit pants. You don’t touch him — not in the way that he’s touching you, anyway — just leave your hand there on his thigh, fingernails dragging over the material of his pants as he slides his long, middle finger into your core.

How he does this so smoothly, so casually, showing nothing at all on his face…. You don’t understand.

You’re shaking. You’re blushing.

You’re an exhibitionist, but tonight Haechan has you blushing like a virgin.

Luckily, the others are pretty much distracted. They don’t notice when you thump your head to the side against the wall, when you lower your gaze to your lap to watch the indecent bulge beneath your skirt as Haechan starts moving, thrusting first the one finger, and then as he adds a second.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from making a sound, though Haechan keeps glancing your way as if hoping to catch your lips parted around a silent moan.

If anyone does look over at you while you’re utterly distracted, then they probably just assume you’ve hit your limit in alcohol. You’re flushed and your eyes are looking a little glazed. You look like you’re about to fall asleep leaning against the wall with your head angled down like that.

Truly you’re a hot fucking mess. Your upper inner thighs feel slick with arousal. You’re sweating behind your knees, the back of your neck, under your arms. It’s taking everything in you to not just throw caution to the wind entirely, to haul yourself into Haechan’s lap, to kiss him and ride him right here at the table in front of your friends.

That thought ignites a new level of heat inside you.

You remember talking about something like that once with Renjun. Imagining cockwarming him in front of your friends. He’d not been too sure about it, but that had been at the start of whatever it was you’d been doing.

A little sound slips out between your lips.

Haechan looks at you, his mouth twisting with amusement, teasing words right on the tip of his tongue.

You grip his thigh, nails biting into his leg even through the pants. Whatever words he was going to say, he swallows down, just watching you eagerly as he fills you again and again with his fingers. Neither of you pay any attention to your friends around the table, each of you too focused on the same goal: your orgasm.

When it hits, you just close your eyes and ride it out on Haechan’s fingers. The waves of pleasure pulse through you, and you can feel the way that you’re soaking his fingers, the way he keeps pressing in for more and more, until finally you move your hand from his thigh to push his hand away from in between yours. Wetness drips against your thigh as he removes his fingers. You may have squirted just a little bit, and judging by the heat in Haechan’s gaze, he liked it.

“Need some water?” He asks, voice just loud enough for the others to barely catch it. “Something to sober you up a bit?”

With his clean hand, Haechan pushes a glass of water towards you, the sides of it dripping with condensation. Gladly, you accept it, gulping down a few mouthfuls of icy water before you press the cool glass to your cheek. When you open your eyes, you make eye contact with Xiaojun.

His gaze flicks away to Haechan, then back to you before he returns his attention to YangYang who’s in the middle of some dramatic retelling of a sleaze from the club the other night. Just once more, Xiaojun glances your way, and you can’t help wondering if he’d noticed. He’s seen you orgasm before, never in public, but he’s no stranger to it.

You wonder if he’s told his girlfriend that you used to hook up?

Before you can pay much more thought to that matter, Haechan brings his hand up from beneath the table. While everyone else is hanging on every word of YangYang’s story, Haechan builds himself a little perilla leaf wrap. You watch him, only barely listening to YangYang, more interested in the way that Haechan fingers glisten with your wetness as he holds the perilla leaf to fill it.

He catches your eye as he bundles the leaf around the filling, and then he all but shoves the entire thing into his mouth. Including his fingers.

It’s lascivious the way that he basically sucks his fingers clean of your wetness. The way that even after he’s pulled them out, he waits until he’s finished chewing and swallowing the perilla leaf wrap, and then he licks each of his fingers.

When Chenle eyes him with a mildly disgusted face, Haechan just shrugs. “What? When you’re eating, don’t you know the juice is the best part?”

“I wouldn’t lick my greasy fingers in public like that,” Chenle responds, shaking his head.

“Yeah, well, there’s lots of things people shouldn’t do in public.” Haechan smirks and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

You sit your glass down and lean forward against the table, resting your hand on his leg beneath the table. “You’re interrupting YangYang’s story. Be quiet, Lee Haechan.”

The rest of the night doesn’t last long. YangYang has to go to work, so he just catches a taxi to take him there. Xiaojun and his girlfriend decide to go check out a restaurant of one of his culinary friends for dessert a short distance away.

“How’re you getting home?” Haechan asks after you’ve all paid and the others have begun to head their own ways. “I know you’re not drunk, but I think you’ve had too much to safely drive yourself.”

Outside, the cool night air brushes against your warm cheeks. You know he’s right. You were drinking quite a bit earlier, and driving wouldn’t be safe.

“You can take me.” You grab for his arm. “My car is right there. You can just drive me home.”

“Chenle did quick work on Mr. Suh's car earlier. I have to return it to the parking garage at work. I can’t do both.” Haechan leans against the wall outside the restaurant, looking at you. You can’t help smiling, can’t help gravitating towards him.

“I can drive.”

You turn around, almost surprised to see Renjun there. His hands are in his pockets, and he even looks a little surprised too.

“I can drive you home,” he says to you. “I haven’t had anything to drink in the past couple hours. I can take you. Plus, it’s been a little while since we got to talk, just the two of us.”

You nod. “My car is right here.” You point across the street to where your car sits like a piece of garbage behind Mr. Suh's fancy BMW. Your keys are in your purse, and it takes you a minute of rummaging around to find them, but once you do, you drop them into Renjun’s waiting hand. “And here’re the keys.”

Haechan knocks into your other hand, his knuckles skimming along the back of your hand. “Let me know when you get home, okay? Both of you.”

You’re quite tempted to kiss him goodnight. To drape your arms over Haechan’s shoulders, to taste the saltiness of the samgyeopsal, the sweetness of the soda he’d been drinking too.

He taps a finger against your forehead. “Don’t fall asleep before you get home. Renjun won’t carry you to bed.”

Renjun laughs. “I could.”

You’re not blind to the look that Haechan shoots at Renjun. A sharp look. A curse embedded in there. The threat that spells out that Renjun had better not even try.

Wordlessly, Renjun unlocks your car, and with a loud groan (from the car, not from him), he opens the door on the passenger side for you. You slide in, and Haechan fills the open door, fitting himself in between the door and the body of the car, a hand on each one as he looks down at you.

“Text me once you’re home.” His voice is a gentle command. Your heart warms, and you nod.

“Goodnight, Haechan.”

The driver’s side door of your car squeals open, and Renjun drops himself into the seat.

Haechan steps back, closing the door for you, and he just waits there on the sidewalk, watching as Renjun starts the car, as you both buckle in, as Renjun pulls away from the curb. You wave, and Haechan waves back, watching you go.

You’re still watching him shrink in the reflection of the side mirror when Renjun starts laughing. You look over at him. “What?”

“So you finally succeeded? That’s happening?” He laughs, readjusting his grip on the steering wheel.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You fold your arms, checking the mirror again, but Haechan is too far now for you to be able to see him anymore.

Renjun waits a moment, during which the quiet sound of a turn signal is all that fills the silence. And then, “I’m not blind. Maybe the others were somehow oblivious, but I was sitting right beside Haechan all night. Also, I’ve fingered you around our friends before, I can see the signs.”

“Shut up. You couldn’t tell.” You shoot a look over at him, but he stays focused on the road.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But either way, you just confirmed it for me.” He smiles, sending a short glance over at you before he looks ahead again. “You were too squirmy, and there was a long time that Haechan only had one hand above the table. Guess you found your perfect match in him, didn’t you? Lucky, since you’ve had that crush on him for so long.”

You sigh, tipping your head against the window. “He’s gross, Renjun. A real pervert.” You say those words as if they are compliments, as if you’re calling him dreamy, a real prince.

Renjun makes a noise on the other side of the car, and you’re not sure if it’s disgust or one of intrigue.

“I love it, honestly.” You twist your head to the side. Renjun’s profile is outlined by streetlights in pale amber. “We talked one night recently, and everything came out into the open. The things I’ve done, things he’s done. He’s so much worse than I am.”

Renjun tilts his head. “How? You were constantly begging me to fuck you somewhere public. How could he be worse than that?” He doesn’t say it with any vitriol, but rather like he’s teasing you. You know Renjun was just as eager to do everything as you were.

“He’s been watching people for a long time. I won’t give you all of the details, but did you know that when he went through your phone while we were all in Thailand, he sent himself videos from your camera roll?”

That makes Renjun’s head finally turn to look at you fully. Luckily you’re stopped at a red light already, so he runs no risk of rear-ending anyone. “He what?”

“It’s just one of the confessions he told me. He didn’t show me them, just told me about them.” You shiver a little with delight as you recall, “He told me that his favorite one is the first one we filmed together, me riding you in my car. And he doesn’t even know that it’s me; I haven’t told him that yet.” You laugh, resting your cheek again on the cool window. “He also said that he wasn’t asleep that final night in Thailand when we messed around right there beside him. He’s a little perv, Renjun, watching us and all of our friends too. It’s just… gross, but I can’t explain it. I like it.”

Now he laughs too. “You’re both gross. I should’ve known that about him. After he spent months crashing on our sofa at school because his roommate caught him being a chronic masturbator.” He shakes his head. “Maybe caught isn’t even the right word.”

You laugh too, but your mind is filled with the vivid imagery of the video Haechan had sent you earlier. His fingers wrapped around his cock. Cum dripping pearly white down his fingers. Your laugh tapers off into a sigh.

“I’m happy for you,” Renjun says after driving a few moments in silence. “For you and Haechan.”

“I’m not so sure there is a Me and Haechan yet. We just talked. We’ve kissed.” Your heart flutters in your chest, wishing you’d have kissed him goodnight. “He’s sent me a few videos, and we talk of course, and then there was tonight. But we haven’t, like, talked and we haven’t gone on a date or actually had sex. I want it to be a proper thing, not like what you and I did, and not like what Xiaojun and I did.”

“Trust me,” Renjun shares, “The way Haechan looks at you, the way he treats you… he likes you. Genuinely and completely, and both of you are fools if either of you let the other get away. I’ve known him longer than you, and I’ve never seen him the way he gets with you; and he’s been that way for a while now, honestly. When I talk with him, you always come up inevitably, in some way he always twists conversation to mention your name, to tell a funny story or to praise something that you did at work. And he’s always been, like, protective of you, whether you noticed it or not. I don’t think you need to worry about it not becoming a proper thing.”

When Renjun drops you off at your apartment door, you’re left with a lot more than just the car keys that he returns to you. Your mind and chest are buzzing thinking about what you’d talked about in the car.

You want to call Haechan as soon as you’re inside. You want to hear his voice. You want to tell him that you like him too, because it’s only now that you’ve been mulling over Renjun’s words that you remember that Haechan had confessed the night you first kissed. He’d whispered an “I like you” after you kissed on the street, and you’d been too busy reeling him back in for another kiss to tell him that you like him too.

You decide maybe you’re still a little tipsy, and maybe you should wait to call him and confess that you like him too until you’re in a clear state of mind.

So instead of calling him, you just send him the confirmation message that you got home safely.

And he calls you.

He’s still driving, returning the car to the parking garage at the office. You talk to him when he’s returning the car, when he’s riding the elevator up to the Neo Corporation’s offices, as he drops the key and the credit card off in Mr. Suh's office. You keep talking, just keeping him company, as he leaves and rides a cab back to his place. You keep talking to him as you go through your bedtime routine — brushing your teeth, washing your face, using the toilet, changing out of your clothes.

“I’m home now.” Haechan yawns in your ear after a while. “It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been a long everything.” You sigh, sinking into your bed. “About earlier, at the restaurant….”

Haechan hums quietly on his end of the line, and you can hear him close a door, sit his phone down, and from the way sounds are more distant and slightly echoier, you assume he put you on speakerphone.

“I really enjoyed that.” You stare up at your ceiling, fighting the blush that rises to your cheeks, the heat that flares in your belly as you remember the feel of his fingers — Haechan’s fingers! — against your thighs and inside you, pulling you apart so easily.

“Me too,” he admits. “Though I would rather have had you spread out on that table so I could get a proper taste of you. The little licks I got off my fingers weren't enough.”

You have to bite back a whimper at the mental image he’s painted. “Haechan… I—I still haven’t gotten to touch you. Or taste you. I feel like I’m at a disadvantage again.”

His voice sounds distant from the phone when he says, “I guess we’d better remedy that, angel. But there’s one thing I need you to do for me before you can get a taste.”

“Hm?” Your heart is racing.

“Go on a date with me. A real date. Dinner and talking, maybe a movie. Dessert.” Haechan’s voice draws nearer again, and then suddenly you can tell he’s scooped his phone back up, that he’s holding it to his face. “I want to be wined and dined before you have your way with me, babe.”

That makes you laugh. But you quickly agree.

“A date. Name your time and place, Haechan.”

The smile in his voice is clear when he promises, “I’ll get back to you on that. Goodnight.”

You haven’t felt so giddy at the idea of a date in a long, long time. How are you meant to fall asleep right now?

“Goodnight, Lee Donghyuck.”

previous chapter || next chapter

a/n: not quite the full thing, but they've finally!! at last!! done something with each other! they're building up towards it lol which I'm sure is torture for all of you who've been dying for them to fuck, but it's coming! I swear!

#haechan #nct #haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct haechan #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #yima

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sabo-has-my-heart · 2 years ago

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Had this request in my mind for a while

What if sanji, law, sabo, corazon (separately) and their female s/o were on an island and just exploring it until they were ready to leave for the next one, they're just roaming around and seeing children and families around the place, but their s/o who gets a baby fever looking at them asks them about a baby. What would their reaction be?

Warnings: baby fever, suggestive

Word Count: 920

The island wasn’t anything particularly special, another stop before heading to the next one, but it would take some time to restock and reset, so the two of you had decided to wander around a little. Smiling and taking in the scenery, you leaned your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder. It was so nice here and the weather was perfect for simply enjoying yourselves. Reaching a small park, you smiled and looked around. It was a beautiful grassy area, perfect for a picnic and apparently a lot of other people thought so too. Dozens of picnic blankets lay scattered about, covered in various foods. Usually with at very least a mother or father sitting at them while watching their spouse and child running around. Some had the entire family eating, others were abandoned completely while both parents played with their children. Watching them, you couldn’t help but melt at the sight of the little ones playing around. They looked so cute, so happy, smiling and laughing as they played. An image formed in your mind, you and your beloved sitting on the grass, holding an infant in your arms while he wiped some mess off of his other child’s face.

“I want a baby.” you said softly, still staring at the children.

Sanji

The blond stared out at the families like you. A baby? A family? With you? He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of a family with you. Of how you’d look with your large, round stomach. Taking care of you 24/7. A child of his. Would they be blond like him? Have his eyebrows? Or would they look more like you? What would they be like?

“You… Want a baby?” he asked, looking at you, his mind running a mile a minute.

“Of course I do. Look at how happy they all are. Can you imagine our child? Oh, I want them to have your blond hair.” you said dreamily, imagining your child. Turning to your beloved boyfriend, you could see the gears turning in his head.

“In a year or two, okay? I promise, I’ll give you as many babies as you want.” he said after a moment, pulling you close and kissing you. You pouted a little but nodded. He was probably right about a year or two, now wasn’t the best time to have a child. Still, looking back at the families, you couldn’t help but want one even more.

Law

Law coughed, choking on his own spit as he looked at you wide eyed. A baby?! You wanted a child? Turning to him, you gave him a yearning look.

“Law, I want a baby. Please?” you asked, making him stare at you for a moment. A baby. You wanted. A baby?

“Absolutely not.” the man said, giving you a deadpan look, even as your eyes filled with sorrow, “We’re not ready for a child at the moment and children take a great deal of care.” he said, noticing the tears starting to gather in your eyes.

“Th-then not now! But one day?” you pleaded, making the man sigh.

“One day. Now let’s go.” Law took your hand, pulling you away. He’d better get you out of there before you decided to start going shopping for baby clothes.

Sabo

Chuckling, Sabo wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

“You want a baby?” he asked, his lips next to your ear, making you shudder.

“Of course I do. I want a baby that has your eyes, who loves freedom just as much as you. I want to start a family with you.” you said, managing to turn around in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck. He pulled you into a kiss as he smirked. A family, huh? He hadn’t had good experiences with his parents, still, the idea of starting a family with you sounded kind of nice. That being said, he was a very wanted revolutionary, any child of his would be seen as a target. Something to be used against him.

“Once the RA has accomplished its goals. I don’t want anyone after you when you’re in such a vulnerable state.” he said sweetly, making your heart melt. He had a point, you’d be an easy target, “Why don’t we start practicing making one, though.” he whispered, running a single, gloved finger down your spine. Biting your lip, you nodded, taking his hand and running back towards the ship. You’d happily practice with him.

Corazon

His cigarette fell from his mouth, staring at you in shock.

“A WHAT?!” he shouted, only to have you slap your hands over his mouth as you looked around for any of the others. You couldn’t let them know he could talk.

“I said I want a baby. I want your baby.” you whispered, watching as he turned a bright, glowing pink. Hearing all of the noise die down, you knew he’d activated his devil fruit abilities, slowly pulling your hands from his mouth.

“I want a baby with you too! I want to start a family with you right now!” he shouted, picking you up and spinning you around. A family, his own family. He’d make sure to be a kind, loving father just like his had been. And you, you’d make the best mother! As soon as he stopped spinning he was picking you up, his powers falling as he raced back to the ship. He wanted to give you a child as soon as possible.

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hotmessmaxpress · 10 months ago

Text

Rosquez OnlyFans AU part 7/?

Alexa play "mastermind"

oh also there's a little porn

Valentino Rossi started following you.

Marc stares at the notification for the fiftieth time since it appeared on his phone. He has no idea what to do with that. His DM is marked ‘seen,’ a fact that makes him want to punch Valentino directly in the mouth. Seen?

Still, following him on Instagram feels like a good start. Marc doesn’t post any onlyfans content on his Instagram because he mostly uses it for motorbike content, but he has occasionally posted a promo.

He decides he only has one option– if Vale is determined to not talk to him, Marc is going to persuade him.

He’s got to be a slut on Instagram.

It’s no secret that he works out, and he has occasionally posted pictures of his workouts. He doubles down on that, posting a reel the next day of himself working out, sweaty and shirtless.

“This is ridiculous,” Alex says, as Marc makes him delete a clip of him doing bicycle crunches and reshoot it.

“He followed me for a reason,” Marc insists. “I’m going to remind him what he is missing.”

Alex rolls his eyes.

That afternoon, Marc and Alex go for a trail ride and Marc makes a point of taking a selfie with him on his story. He makes sure to show the way his skintight riding top clings to his chest. When he checks later, he sees that Vale viewed the story. Success.

He posts a motorbike video the next day. It feels significant, posting a video of himself on the bike fully clothed but knowing Vale will be watching it.

It’s a video that he would normally post, pre-Vale. He and Alex have GoPros that they mount to their bikes, and they make clips of themselves riding along the roads of Madrid. This video is a short clip of himself climbing onto the bike and giving the camera a thumbs up, and then various shots of scenery from the front of his bike and a few shots facing him as he rides.

He’s fully covered, with his riding gear and helmet, but when he posts it it feels sexually charged.

Vale likes the video only minutes after it’s posted, and it feels like such relief and gratification that Marc can’t help but harden in his shorts. He makes sure his door is closed and pulls his cock out, stroking himself to full hardness for the first time alone since Vale blocked him. He’s obviously still managed to make content, but he hasn’t jerked off for himself in what feels like entirely too long.

He sets his phone down, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling of his hand on his cock. He spits in his palm and grips himself.

He pictures Vale, and the way he touches himself. He wonders what it would be like if Vale were next to him. They wouldn’t even need to touch; he’d be fine just watching as Vale touches himself. He wants to know what the older man sounds like when he’s jerking off. Does he groan, or grunt, or keen? Does his breathing get ragged?

Marc wonders what it would like if Vale were fucking him. He pumps his cock hard, picturing Vale railing him from behind. He moans at the idea of Vale fucking into him, stretching him out. He contemplates taking out a toy to fuck himself on, but he doesn’t want to take his hand off his cock.

Instead he thinks about Vale again. He thinks about getting his mouth on Vale’s cock. He’d let Vale fuck his face, choking him. He’d beg Vale to let him taste his cum. He’d beg Vale to let him worship his cock, and he’d suck it long beyond when his jaw started to hurt.

His fantasy shifts, and he thinks about Vale sucking his cock.

That mental image throws him over the edge, and he comes hard, shooting up to his chest with a moan.

He contemplates sending a picture of his cum-covered abs to Vale, but doesn’t want his Instagram to get suspended. He’s got to play it cool. He doesn’t acknowledge Vale liking his post, and instead makes plans for how he can draw Vale out in other ways.

He posts a shirtless pool photo, where he’s wet and tan and smiling. In that post he also includes a few photos of the dogs, simply because he loves them and he sort of wants Vale to learn more about his life. He and Vale haven’t really talked much about their personal lives, which in hindsight is explained by Vale not wanting him to know his identity. His Instagram is a new opportunity to show Vale who he is aside from just a pornstar who is foaming at the mouth to suck his dick.

He posts a story of Shira snoozing on his chest later that afternoon, and he Vale likes the story. His heart pounds so hard at the sight of it that she gets up and moves.

The following day he posts something that he hopes will force Vale into making a move. It’s him, shirtless, working out in the ugliest shorts he’s ever owned. They’re too tight because he bought them as a teenager, and he’s surprised he even managed to dig them out of storage. They’re short, bright yellow, and have THE DOCTOR printed along the butt in Vale’s signature font.

He doesn’t acknowledge the shorts at all, simply posts the video as if it’s a regular workout video.

Vale likes it within seconds, and Marc can feel his heart in his chest.

Please talk to me, he messages. I just want to know what I did wrong.

Vale reads it and doesn’t respond. Marc’s heart sinks in his chest, and he can feel tears well in his eyes. He just wants Valentino to acknowledge him.

I’m sorry you were removed from the paddock, is the message that lands in his DM’s in the middle of the night.

He sees it when he wakes up and his heart jumps into his throat.

Then why did you have us kicked out? I just wanted to see you, he adds. I didn’t know what else to do.

He sees as the message switches to “seen”, and he has to put his phone down and take several deep breaths.

I didn’t know Uccio was doing that. He thought you were stalking me.

Marc snorts. He sort of was. Fuck whoever Uccio is, though. And how did he even know who Marc was?

Why did you block me?

He takes several more deep breaths as he waits for Vale to respond. He forces himself to get up and walk downstairs. Alex and the sausage dogs are already up, so he plops himself on the couch and shoves himself into Alex’s personal space.

“Vale is messaging me,” he croaks, and Alex peers over his shoulder.

“What?”

Marc shows him the messages, and manhandles Shira onto his lap so he can kiss and pet her to alleviate his anxiety.

Uccio did. I had to. It’s not good for you to know who I am.

Marc frowns.

Why, because I do OF? That’s not fair.

“That’s bullshit,” Alex says, over his shoulder.

“He followed me on OnlyFans,” Marc says unhappily. “He can’t use that as a reason to act like I’m a bad person.”

I sent you pictures of my cock, Marc. What if you shared them?

Marc stares at the message.

“Oh,” he says, flatly.

I wouldn’t do that.

I couldn’t know that for sure, Vale says.

You know that now, Marc shoots back.

Vale types, then stops, then starts again.

I want to trust you.

Marc honest-to-god squeals. Alex shoves him, and Shira startles on his lap.

“He’s in love with me,” Marc announces.

“No, he’s not,” Alex replies immediately. “He just saw the outline of your dick in those tiny shorts and missed seeing it.”

Marc turns to glare at him. “Fuck off.”

“I’m just saying,” Alex says. “Claiming he’s in love with you may be moving a little fast. I don’t want you to be disappointed again.”

Marc sighs.

“Just talking to him is good enough.”

Now that the door has been opened, Marc and Vale talk constantly. They talk about bikes, and when Vale asks him how he knows so much, Marc sheepishly tells him about how he was nearly professional before he destroyed his arm. He tells him how it still hurts sometimes but it’s not enough to make him not ride.

He talks about riding with Alex and how if he can’t ride professionally getting to ride with his brother is the next best thing.

Vale talks about his own brother, and how proud he is of the boys that he trains at his ranch. He talks about retiring one day, and how he wants to sit back and watch his academy boys win.

Send me pictures, Marc requests, one day when Vale mentions riding at the ranch. I want to know what it’s like. It sounds like a dream.

He is startled by Vale’s response.

You should come.

To Tavullia. Come ride with me.

#i'm not saying they fuck in the next part but i'm not saying they don't #onlyfans au #mm93 #vr46

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pillow-anime-talk · 9 months ago

Note

Hiii! Can i request prompt 7 with Fyodor?

# tags: scenario; current relationship; light romance; fluff; ooc!fyodor; reader is a hacker; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. fyodor dostoyevsky {bsd}

author’s note: hii! of course! i really like him!

7. “You’re so dumb!” “No? You’re dumb.”

There were nights during which Fyodor would stay up until dawn, looking for helpful tips, information and names to make his plan successful for him and his associates. Sometimes he sat until 1 a.m. with a cup of already chilled coffee, and sometimes he stared at the bright screen of the monitor until 8 a.m., with empty vitamin boxes or glasses of half-drunk red wine standing next to him. The mound of sweet candy wrappers was also an everyday sight...

In between all this, all this multitude of numbers, dates and words, there was you: in a warm sweater and fluffy socks, bringing him a nutritious snack from time to time (vegetable sandwiches or fried rice with eggs) or asking if everything was okay. Sometimes you would remind him to drink water or go to the bathroom, and when Fyodor actually agreed with you, he would quickly get up from his chair and go to do his physiological needs.

Then you would sit in his place, enter the appropriate code sequences, then return to the bedroom or living room (depending on the time on watch) and pass the dark-haired man, saying ‘Goodnight’ to him with a light smile or a fleeting kiss.

When Fyodor sat down on the black chair again and continued working, no more than five minutes passed, when various words, symbols or photos appeared on the screen that were an affirmation of him and your relationship; red hearts, photos of kittens touching noses... All this made the young man stunned, and after a while, also slightly amused. On the one hand, he was happy that you were a talented programmer, but on the other, it was his downfall when it was time to make fun of him.

The lines of code that corresponded to given inscriptions or images were deleted automatically, so nothing bad happened to your partner’s work, and you just continued to bury your face in the pillow with a slight smile or read the next page of your favorite book, having in mind the sight of Fyodor with slight blushes on the face.

Then, depending on the time and situation, Fyodor would text you saying “You’re so stupid!” to which you usually responded with a simple “No. You’re stupid. You don’t appreciate my advances...”

It all usually ended in quiet laughter or a war of nicknames and emojis.

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blissfulip · 1 year ago

Text

Dopamine

on AO3

Viktor x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, idiots in love (?) dubious science, mostly canon compliant, no use of y/n, chemist!reader, eventual smut, masturbation, angry sex, unprotected sex,

Cw: mentions of alcohol consumption, creepy dude being creepy, bood.

Words: 2.1k

[A/N: tags and content warnings to be updated in each chapter, updates weekly(ish). (also, let me know if you want to be tagged in fic updates!)]

Tags: @ihopeinevergetsoberr @chemical-killjoy @jinxed-jk @bobobomao @queen-of-elves

Previous Next

Chapter 7: Mixer

You liked the academy’s dormitories because they were spacious and old (the room had belonged to someone before you and someone before them, and so on for hundreds of years). You had come to believe each room could fit two people comfortably, but in the empty yet thorny air between you and Viktor, lying side by side, you began to second-guess this. The once-springy, commodious mattress now felt sticky and narrow for the two of you.

The high lasted less than it normally does when you are on your own, perhaps on account of your sudden strong self-awareness of the circumstances, or it could have been the contention between the person you had been for the past hour an hour has passed? Felt like 15 minutes... and the person you had tried to appear as on any regular basis. The vulnerable versus the impervious, or is it persona and shadow?

It doesn't quite matter now; I have to say something and come out on top—no, not like that.

“We still have two pages to edit.” Your voice came out timid and craven, and you dared to turn your head to look at him. The picture of his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling and his chest heaving up and down suggested his feelings of regret were probably akin to yours.

“Three, in fact. I wasn’t able to finish before, eh, this.”

You adjusted your underwear, pulled your dress down with the swiftness of someone who has not a care in the world or wanted to appear as such, and bounced up to a sitting position, giving the bed under you a small slap with each hand.

“Let’s get to work then.” You did not wait or turn around to observe Viktor’s take on this little parade of pudor, but assumed it went something along the same line. You handed him his cane from where it had fallen on the floor and sat on one of the chairs, all of this done while painfully trying to avoid each other’s gaze.

Naturally, once the work had been revised and you had agreed to each do half of the speech, you picked up your belongings and unceremoniously left his dorm to go to your own. How strange it was that the anxious worry of giving not one but one and a half presentations for a full audience was nowhere in your tired mind, and that the single object of your musings when you plopped on your bed was the image of his eyes enraptured by you and how you’d cover the two bruised bite marks on your neck that the academy uniform wouldn’t hide.

Your eyes closed sluggishly, and you dreamt of amber and violet.

----------------------------------------------------------

“A turtleneck? I know it’s chilly in this auditorium, but isn’t that a bit overkill?”

“I have to protect my voice.” You answered Lara, looking her straight in the eyes. This is something you were good at, technically, lying through your teeth without showing any semblance of discomfort. Unfortunately for you, she knew (or rather, by then, only suspected) too much, and nothing could have prepared you for how quick her hands would be at pulling down your collar to reveal what she expected to find imprinted on your neck.

Her eyes grew wide.

“And what about it? Can’t a girl have fun the night before a stressful day?” You tried to keep that mask of nonchalance you’d been trying to carry around, and you hoped she had forgotten who you were supposed to be with the previous night.

“I thought you said you weren’t together?” She got closer to you and did her best to whisper, but the animation in her voice was giving away so much information that you were glad there was no one around to pick it up.

“With whom?”

“Stop that; I know you two spent the afternoon together!”

You let out a sigh of resignation.

“And we are in fact not together; it was simply a lapse in judgment that neither of us wants to remember or talk about.”

Whatever Lara intended to say was lost to history the moment she saw Viktor enter the backstage area. The mix of your panicked expression and Lara’s hungry-for-information face made his shoulders cringe almost all the way up to his ears. You had to let out a chuckle at the sight of him immediately turning on his heel and walking away.

"I can't believe that guy is the same one who did all that to your neck.”

“Please never say that again.”

Lara chuckled through her teeth before giving you a smug look and leaving for her own venue. Without Cirian there, the backstage area was exclusively for you and Viktor, perchance only you if he had decided to forgo his spot on the schedule and move back to the undercity, or maybe quit the academy and jump off a bridge. Maybe I’m projecting.

Soon enough, you could hear Jayce’s booming voice coming from outside the door and getting nearer. You oscilated between relief and dread for about 30 more seconds before Viktor and him came waltzing into the room. He hugged you, and you talked. It was casual and comfortable to see your friend again, but Viktor’s looming presence as he stood slightly behind him like a kid waiting for his mom to finish catching up with an acquaintance at the market shortly became too much to ignore.

“You should sit; we will probably stand for over an hour when it starts.” You told Viktor as you walked to grab one of the folding chairs you had found in the other room and handed it to him. He took it from you with a stiff ‘thank you’ and sat on it in silence. Jayce took notice of the awkward tension and looked back and forth between you with an eyebrow raised before asking.

“What did I miss?"

“Hm?”

“What is going on here?”

“What are you talking about?” Viktor asked.

“I fully expected you two to be all over each other."

Your mouth went dry, and you heard Viktor choking up.

“What?” You managed to cry out shyly.

“You know, you’re always fighting, and I haven’t heard a single insult from either of you yet.”

“Our minds are probably preoccupied with, eh, the presentations.” Viktor interjected, and this sounded plausible enough to make you lose some tension.

Jayce didn’t seem to fully believe it, though; his choice of words earlier hadn’t been intentional, but your reaction to it seemed rather disproportionate, so he kept this on the backburner until he could bring it up again.

----------------------------------------------

The conference itself went without a hitch, and you were both showered with praise in the aftermath by all the students and academics in attendance alike. And although you generally abhorred being the center of attention to this extent, this came as a welcomed distraction from everything else you had in mind.

You were more than ready to go home and take a bath, but a small mixer was going to take place at the academy for the teachers, academics, and faculty members. Somehow Lara, Jayce, and Moira—who had been nice enough to show up to your presentation—collectively managed to drag you and Viktor along.

No drinking for me tonight. You thought, not after...

Among the noise and the scent of liquor and the faraway attempts at conversation from myriads of unknown people, both happy and not, the lack of sleep and sore leg muscles were starting to catch up with you.

Somewhere on your way to the velvet-red sofa were Lara and Cirian, having a conversation that seemed way too animated for someone who claimed to have been near a bittersweet passing that very morning. You pondered going over to him and questioning him; after all, he was to blame for the way Viktor’s hands fit so tightly on your waist. He was to blame, for sure, but you couldn’t possibly say anything, at least not without hinting at the serpentine paths you had dug into Viktor’s back, so you sat on the couch and people-watched.

It was so bizarre to see the members of the council at an event like this, but you figured Heimerdinger probably had a (tiny) hand on that, and he had probably taken all the praise for the conference that they might have had to offer, so you did not have to worry about interacting with any of them. Jayce certainly didn’t seem intimidated, at least not by Councilor Medarda.

You sat there and watched as he turned to talk to her when she approached him. You saw his hand slither up her back, and you saw them walking away, leaving a lonely Viktor standing there, an eye roll and sour expression parading through his face in quick succession. You figured he would take this opportunity to leave, and he in fact started to do just that, scanning the room for the exit, when he was intercepted by that sweet intern that always followed them around.

Sky was quiet, at least around you. You suspected the cold looks she gave you sometimes were due to your usual jabs at her boss (friend?) in her presence, and you understood that; you accepted it even and always tried to be as nice as possible to her. The taste of bile in your mouth when Viktor inconspicuously put a hand on her shoulder was a response you did not prepare yourself for.

For a short second, you tried to give yourself validation. You thought about all the times she had ignored you when you greeted her at the lab and felt valiantly justified, Then you almost fell victim to the impulse to walk over and ‘accidentally’ knock her over. You were quick to sallow the venom and figuratively shake yourself off your high horse; there was no valid reason for you to suddenly be so vile towards someone you had barely ever spoken to, all because—all because Viktor touched her affectionately.

You had no time to feel sick, even though your body certainly gave you the cues that it was going to, because you felt the weight of someone sitting next to you on the sofa. Asher put one arm around your shoulders and leaned over to your ear to say something.

“I heard you did amazingly today."

“Thank you.” You responded incisively as you took his arm and untangled yourself from it.

“I’m more impressed at how you were able to do any work with that dunce.”

“Viktor?”

“Yeah, he looks like he’s a complete idiot; I'm not sure how he managed to convince the Academy that he wasn’t a complete fraud.” He said, giving you a small nudge on the arm.

“You expect me to agree with that?” You asked after a prolonged silence.

“Well, yes, you must know that better than anyone, given how much you two dislike each other.”

“I don’t dislike him because I think he’s a fraud; he is clearly one of the most brilliant people in Piltover.”

“You can’t be seriously defending him.”

“I’m not ‘defending him'; I’m simply not blind enough to affirm that he is not intelligent.”

“I thought you hated him.”

“I do, just not for that reason!” You started to raise your voice in exasperation.

“Then why?”

“Because he—” You started, and soon noticed you couldn’t think of why with as much ease as you did in the past. “Why do you care so much?”

You said that and excused yourself to run to the bathroom. Once there, you closed the door and didn’t bother to lock it, quickly opening the faucet to splash some water on your face. You gave it more thought and repeated it to yourself like a mantra.

He’s arrogant and impatient, and he only cares about himself and his work. He's the academy’s perfect boy, hogging all the resources, and he’s uptight and...

Well, it wasn’t really his fault that the academy neglected everyone else, and his dedication to his work was admirable. You leaned on the sink with both hands, looking at yourself in the mirror as you mumbled.

Arrogant, impatient, and uptight. No, definitely not uptight.

More memories from the night before flashed through your mind, your hands trailing the seam of the turtleneck you were wearing.

He is arrogant and impatient; that is a fact.

Another splash of water, and you were feeling better, but although you had one hand on the door handle, it burst open without you turning it. You were faced with Viktor’s tall figure blocking your way out, and though you were ready to tell him how ‘impatient and arrogant’ you had concluded he was, the copious amounts of blood trickling down his nose and mouth deterred your attention from that.

#viktor #viktor x reader #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #arcane #arcane fanfic #viktor fanfic

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velunas · 1 year ago

Note

omg can i request an ateez or stray kids reaction to finding out their s/o having nipple piercings 🤭🤭🤭 i’m giggling

oh i hear sum purring…. IM DOING BOTH CUS IM A SLUTTTTT🫶🏽 ateez next hehe

warnings: smutty, mentions of consensual recording/picture taking, sorta pervy!changbin

chan: oh the minute he sees them he’s busting in his pants like he’d be so obsessed with them i just know it. he’d immediately ask if he could touch them and when you give him permission just know his hands (and his mouth) will not leave your tits alone until you physically cannot take it anymore. he’d also very hesitantly ask if you’d let him take a picture of them so he could look back on it every time he’s away from you. plz do him one better and let him cum on them and record it he would probably die of happiness. your nipple piercings are now his number one obsession.

minho: oh i just know he’s planning on how he’s gonna buy u all kinds of pretty and sparkly nipple rings so that he can admire how pretty they look while he tit fucks you bc there’s no way that ISNT happening. he’s probably gonna sit u in his lap and just play with them cus he’s meanie and a tease but also bc he’s so infatuated with them. he will never leave them alone honestly he’s so obsessed with them he’d probably accidentally (or not so accidentally) tell the boys ab them and now everyone knows u got pierced nips and jeongin can’t even look you in the eyes 😭

changbin: binnie is already such a simp for u but once he sees ur piercings he probably falls a little more in love with u i’m not even joking. i just know he’d be OBSESSED with them and would think ab them 24/7. he’d always try to convince you to go braless just so he can admire how pretty the rings look thru ur shirt. he’d probably keep it super cold in his room just so ur nipples are constantly poking out of ur shirt and he can just..stare at them. sorry idc changbin is an undercover pervert like he won’t say anything to u and will try to hide his nasty intentions but is secretly getting off on how oblivious you seem

hyunjin: loves them but is lowkey mad u didn’t tell him when u got them done bc he probably would’ve gone with u to get one too LMAO. he’d 100% wanna draw you nude as soon as he sees them tho like he just thinks they look so pretty on u and that u look so perfect and he just needs to sketch you so he can memorialize the image forever. i lowkey see him just playing with them casually too like he’d 100% stick his hand down ur shirt to wiggle the little bar or twist your ring in circles during a movie night or something (it always leads to sex btw).

jisung: boy would be in disbelief. he’s the ‘pics or it didn’t happen’ kinda mf but if u actually send him a picture oh he’s freaking OUT! immediately removing himself from whatever area he’s in so he can go into the bathroom and jerk off real quick. i feel like jisung is so easy to rile up so probable just the mere thought of you + nipple piercings has him shifting around uncomfortably and adjusting himself in his pants. he’d fly home as soon as he could and just pounce on u. like he’d literally yank you into his lap and pull your shirt down to see them. as soon as he gets his hands/mouth on them i’m like 90% sure he cums in his pants

felix: he’s so sweet about it omg. as soon as he finds out he’s asking u all kinds of questions like ‘did it hurt?’ ‘are they healed’ or ‘did you get both or just one?’. felix is a shy bby so he probably won’t ask to see them himself but the way his eyes keep flicking from your face to your chest makes it so obvious so plz just lift up ur shirt for him. he’d be in AWE like almost drooling type shit. he’d also be too nervous to touch them himself so you’d either have to reassure him that it’s ok and he can cop a feel, or you’d have to physically grab his hands and put them on your tits. he’d be so gentle while touching them and would probably try to hide his boner but his lil whines make it pretty clear how he’s feeling.

seungmin: he’s so annoying he’d probably try to act so nonchalant ab it. ‘oh u got ur nipples pierced? cool.’ but on the inside he’d be freaking out. he wouldn’t ask to see them not bc he’s shy but bc he doesn’t want u to know he’s extremely excited ab this so he’ll wait for u to show him urself but once u do hoooooo boy he’s going to TOWN on u so prepare urself. dom seungmin mode activated u are not leaving that bed for days i’m telling u. he’s trying all types of positions so he can see how pretty they sparkle in the light while he fucks you. when you get a package in the mail with like 10 different kinds of nipple rings don’t look at seungmin bc it definitely wasn’t him (it was)

jeongin: went back & forth on this one but honestly i think he'd be so nervous about even looking at them. he only noticed because it was particularly cold in his dorm and you had decided to forgo a bra since you were spending the night. he doesn't even know how to react when he realizes, but the crimson blush creeping up his neck and cheeks, and the fact that he cannot look at your face make it pretty clear that he noticed them. i feel like innie is so shy when it comes to anything remotely sexual so do not expect him to be the first to mention your piercings. instead he will silently suffer and would probably go to bed with a boner unless you help him out (plz help him he's so hard its painful).

#my writing #jhopezwrld #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #skz smut #bang chan smut #lee Minho smut #seo changbin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #han jisung smut #lee felix smut #Kim seungmin smut #yang jeongin smut #stray kids fanfic

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amywritesthings · 2 years ago

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SEEING YOU, SEEING ME (5/7)

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: After handling a life-or-death favor for Tess, you’re in deep shit. Until she can make things right, she suggests you lay low at her place for the week. The issue? It’s also Joel Miller’s place, and you’re pretty sure he hates you.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! No Minors! Pre-TLOU, One Bed Trope, Masturbation, Guided Masturbation, Orgasms (2), Sexual Tension, Dirty talk, Pet names, Touch Starved!Joel, Age gap/difference, Slow burn, Semi-Enemies to Fuckers

( Read on AO3 )

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CHAPTER 5: IN THE AIR TONIGHT

Hours later, you’re still awake.

By the sound of dying Fedra truck tires in the distance, the quarantine zone is not. It's quiet in the whistle of the wind. Dead to the world. Peaceful.

However, your mind won't allow you a modicum of the same. Not as you sit against the wall, legs outstretched with crossed ankles on the mattress. Your arms wrap around your torso, fists tightening every several minutes just to bring you back from the broken record images playing in your mind.

What once was a single now becomes a record of snapshots: Joel leaning with his forearm against the archway. Joel sitting with legs spread at his dining table.

Joel standing, staring, with such a dark intensity that it's now properly burned to the back of your skull.

Your hands clench again, remembering how he did the same when you said it’d been a long time since you had anyone.

He was so close. You could practically feel the tickle of his mustache on your lips.

He took the first touch. He made the first step.

Now he was further than ever.

Why did it matter? This entire operation — this life-saving favor — was supposed to be a few days of laying low while Tess handled the logistics of what it would take for Boston QZ to be a civil circle of neutrality once again among thieves. It just so happened that Tess lived with Joel Miller, and Joel Miller was going to be another body in a long line of survivors trying to get by.

Joel was never going to see you like you saw him.

He was merely a man who worked the same lousy, high-paying jobs as you. Lines were blurred, but that only made the future worse.

You said it wasn’t in the cards to date or find a comfortable life here or be anything beyond a feeling.

You didn’t realize wanting to hurt spoke to Joel because he was dying to hurt, too.

A noise floats through the apartment.

You pause in your thoughts, sitting up straighter with your shoulders squaring in mild alarm.

A beat passes.

The world around you is silent.

Then you hear the same quiet, strangled sound coming from the other room once more.

Without leaving the bed, you listen to hone in on its location: there. Towards the living room wall where the couch lay. Your gaze drops to the bottom right corner of the wall, waiting to register what it might be.

The strangled sound returns, except this time it sounds suppressed. Lodged in a throat.

It's accompanied by something rhythmic.

Something wet.

A bone-chilling cold passes through your body in one-fell swoop when you realize:

It’s Joel.

It’s Joel and he’s jerking off on the couch.

Every muscle in your body freezes, afraid that the older man could catch on that you've heard. If you move, then you may not be able to take the point of no return back. If you speak, then he may never look at you again.

Joel Miller, in your life and gone just as fast.

So you do something else in the night, in the quiet.

Slowly your hand glides along the sheet and smooths along your hip, to the button of your jeans. Your thumb pops it open, exposing the waistband of your dark underwear beneath.

(If you want to regret something, then it won’t be this.)

There is another low sound from the other room — a shudder of a breath, which only sets your blood aflame — that confirms what you’re hearing.

Without another thought, your hand slips under the fabric to find you’re already wet. Soundlessly you whimper, jaw shaking as you set in a slowed circle to test the waters. Your ears are trained on the sound in the other room, overly aroused by your own imagination:

Joel lying back on the couch with his arm thrown over his eyes. A fist clenched tight to keep some semblance of control. His hand wrapped around his cock, pumping with urgency to get this done and over with before you wake up.

You can just imagine his denim shirt raised up and over his belly just in case he comes too fast.

Your hand moves faster.

It’s taking everything in you to be quiet.

The happy trail drawing from his belly button to his cock. The scars you could memorize with your lips. His hand in your hair to keep you trapped there on your knees.

And you don’t mean to.

You don’t mean to moan, but it slips faster than you can hold it in.

Instantly the noises stop from the other room.

Besides the rustling of your hand in your pants, the apartment is silent.

Shit.

You stop despite the cresting orgasm, jaw set tight.

Then a voice speaks from the other room, husky and out of breath:

“Go slower.”

You don’t breathe.

Can’t, not when you’re grappling with the fact that yes, that’s Joel Miller talking in the dark and yes, he’s very aware of what you’re doing in his home, in his bed, and his first thought isn’t to chastise you for depravity.

Maybe he’s talking to himself.

Maybe he’s doing this in his sleep and you’re just privy to hearing about it by mistake.

Then he speaks again, and you could cum on the spot.

“Did I say you could stop?”

Lips parted and dry, you stare wide-eyed at the ceiling.

Against your better judgment you respond, quiet and meek.

“No.”

“Then what’re you doing?”

Swallowing thickly, you edge your fingers back under the waistband of your underwear.

“Going slow,” you shakily answer the disembodied demands of Joel Miller, eager to please despite the agony that comes with resuming lazy circles around your clit.

You need relief.

(You need to understand what the fuck is happening right now.)

“Good," he responds, words drunken with a southern drawl. "And you keep going slow no matter how bad you wanna speed up, is that understood?”

You don't know how to respond. Between the whiplash of what he left you with and where you're at now, you feel like you're going out of your mind.

"You gonna listen?" he repeats when you don't immediately answer his request.

No, his demand.

(Holy shit.)

“I told you that I — listened earlier,” you say in a hiccup of a gasp when that electric spark returns, "didn’t I? Of course I'll be good for you.”

Joel returns the sentiment with an appreciative groan, and your head lulls towards the wall as if you’ll be able to see straight through it.

(You want to see him so badly.)

Speaking up, talking back, takes a leap of courage, but you run the mile anyway. “...are you going slow, too?”

Because you know.

Joel must know that you know. That you've heard him pleasuring himself despite being only a mere few feet from you.

(That you’re only doing this because you heard him first.)

“Real slow,” he answers with a vulnerable honesty that surprises you, under his breath and softer than expected.

It takes everything within you not to speed up; not without his command. “Is this — Is this payback for the drinking game?”

The idea makes him chuckle on the other side of the wall, but it sharpens in a shaken gasp of his own.

“Not payback, darlin’.”

The rogue use of a pet name almost — almost — makes you beg, but you lick the seam of your lips and find your center to reply.

“It sure feels like it.”

The audacity is that your annoyed reply makes him hum in amusement. Then he speaks again, and all bets are off.

“What if I let you go faster? Would that make you feel better?”

“Jesus Christ, Miller.”

What changed between his cold rejection a mere few hours ago and now? Why was he so willing to bend the rules, change the game, without so much as looking at you?

Then you realize:

It’s easier not to see.

Two people in the same home in two separate rooms is much less intimate than the real deal. Earlier wasn’t an outright rejection, but a test of faith.

Nothing about this will be soft, or kind.

(Or real.)

“It would,” you answer after thickly swallowing, the ache between your legs becoming too much.

“Good,” Joel replies from the couch. “You only get what I’m willing to give, and m’feeling generous.”

You exhale heavily in relief as your fingers quicken their pace on your clit, satisfied to finally feel the familiar waves in your lower belly. Joel must have sped up on his own accord as well, because you hear his breathy grunts labor with an urgency parallel to your own.

This is really happening.

You feel delirious yet blissful all the same.

There is so much you want to say. So much to ask. So much you want to hear, see, taste.

(Alive; this is what it must mean to feel alive.)

“Miller—”

“Joel.”

The interruption of your whimper causes you to turn your gaze once more to the wall as if he'll be standing there. He isn't.

“What?”

“Joel,” he demands from the couch, interrupting what little control you had in this situation. “You say my name when you cum, y’hear?”

“Fuck—”

“Are you close?”

“Yes.”

“Then say it.”

“Joel,” you moan on command without hesitation, louder than intended. “Jesus, fuck, Joel, I’m so fucking cl—”

You tense at an explosion of an orgasm. Stars blind your eyes as you squeeze them shut and ride out the tumultuous waves, bucking into your hand. Every sensation is intense — the fact that Joel can hear every little whine of his name on your tongue is too much — but it’s too late to go back.

Especially when he follows you over the edge.

Joel Miller sounds positively sinful when he comes. Abandoned yet full of control, his labored breathing halts in a groan, but not without a bitten attempt at your name.

The sounds simmer, dying off to a sigh of relief — then nothing.

Silence.

Once more dissolving to only just the wind in the air tonight.

You remain in his bed, breathing heavily up at the ceiling with your hand still in your underwear. What feels like hours pass where you wait for him to walk around the wall, to leave all caution to the wind, but he doesn’t.

In the afterglow, he says nothing.

He never leaves the couch, so you never leave his bed.

He asked, so you listen.

You listen and never leave his bed and eventually drift to a peaceful sleep.

Author's Note: Maybe I was too on-the-nose with the song choice this chapter, lol.

Feeling refreshed and excited after my mini-hiatus! I truly appreciate all of the support on this fic. Just… wow. I am such a lucky author, I really am. Thanks again for reading.

#joel miller x you #joel miller #the last of us #tlou spoilers #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller imagine #the last of us spoilers #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #amywritesthings #fic: seeing you seeing me

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fairybinie · 2 years ago

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KISS, DON’T TELL — 15: if's and when's

synopsis: popular and menacingly wicked choi beomgyu has the entire senior class wrapped around his finger. the high school drama club has cherished y/n as their veteran for four years. to fulfill beomgyu’s graduation requirements, he must join y/n’s drama club despite his grudges. unbeknownst to everyone else, y/n and beomgyu have their history. they’ve kissed before (or more like y/n has bitten his lip to bleed) and beomgyu hasn’t lived it down ever since. y/n cannot stand this guy. they can make it through the entire year as the leads in their play, right?

taglist: @iyeonjuni @odxrilove @iuwon @ijhyo @cherr-y-eji @ameliesaysshoo @enhacolor @cherrybeomgyu @wccycc @hyukabean @strawberri-uyu @hyuntaena @feyregels @boba-beom @luvnhwa @shua-s @ashxxgyu @bibinnieposts @laylasbunbunny @robinsluva @shiguresohmas @h00nerz @beomsbeanie @stepout-09-15 @ox1-lovesick @soobsdior @ifwtyun @peachy-yabbay @sunlightwoo @ttyunz @rikijackson04 @miyawwn @aintgeluh @baekhyunstruly @wxderingthoughts @moontyuns @soobpricity @hyeinszn @txtbrainrot @phenomenalgirl9 @fatoompie @stellz581 @bluebearybeom @extriella @1-800-ryujin @galaxyhalloes @tae-ology @dekusgirl @xavi-in-kpopland @run2seob @obeymeharemowner @bailies-me @aestheticsluut

send an ask to be apart of the taglist!

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a/n: written (3.8k) + smau. mentions of kissing, nothing else i can see! so sorry for the wait i hope this was worth it 😔

...

but good to know :D

really y/n?

y/n could have chosen to ignore the last few messages of his remorse and just told him them were on their way. they also could have chosen to ignore that beomgyu can actually bring a smile to their face and their limited interactions have been replaying in their head since they have occurred. it’s hard to ignore a feeling like that.

texting beomgyu these past days and observing him in class has led y/n to believe that maybe there is more to him than what he is displaying. it’s no doubt that he keeps up an image for everyone else to believe and roll with, hell, even idolize with. y/n knew that already, but they weren’t sure if there was anything below the surface. did he even have a personality besides the obnoxious one that was 24/7? the fact that he seemed to be sorrowful about his comments just now might insinuate that he has a conscious. sure, it wasn’t there before. perhaps something shifted in the boy recently. why?

come to think of it, y/n really doesn't know anything about this guy. he plays guitar, that’s something, right? does beomgyu want to become a musician despite being stern about the fact that he doesn’t have a passion? he has to have one.

questions, questions, questions that y/n is hoping to get answers to.

most of all, why is he still hung up on the shared kiss that happened four years ago?

choi beomgyu intrigues them, whether they would like to admit it or not.

“y/n! hello?”

y/n shudders away their thoughts and stares blankly at the red light in front of them. their hands grip tightly around the dark leather material around their steering wheel as they glance at their car radio. an ongoing call with their friends that has lasted fifteen minutes.

y/n reaches for their temple as they begin to mindlessly rub circles, waiting for the light to turn green. they kept their word to soobin’s request to call them when they were heading to beomgyu’s house.

“sorry, what happened?”

someone groans in response, y/n’s guess is eliana. her groans were engrained in their head as they were always the receiving end to them.

“we were talking about going to disneyland during winter break,” eliana reminds with no distinction in her voice.

yes, disneyland. of course. y/n readjusts themselves to the mood and the light changes as they do, stepping their foot on the gas pedal.

“right- yeah, i’m on board-”

a howl cuts y/n off mid sentence as each speaker in the vehicle blasts with each rhythm of laughter, that of which belongs to kai. y/n is taken aback momentarily, but it soon hits them that was not the topic of conversation.

“can we actually go, though?” kai genuinely asks once he pulls himself together. soobin agreeingly replies with instinct to satisfy kai in the moment.

“you’re not paying attention,” eliana points out to y/n, seeing right through them despite not being in the car with them. “what’s up, babe?”

y/n makes a U-turn once they realize that they missed the correct street. “sorry guys, i was distracted.”

“y/n, you don’t have to go if you’re not comfortable,” soobin advises which brings a slight smile to y/n’s face. soobin was always protective over them and the whole group appreciated him for it, even if it could be overbearing at times.

“no no, it’s not that,” y/n reassures as they look at their phone mounted on the dashboard to check if this is the right corner to make a turn.

“then what is it?” kai asks with some concern in his voice. being the youngest in the group has always made him worry for his older friends. he was a perfect little brother.

“nothing! trust me,” y/n barely tries to sound convincing. the group looks it over this one time considering that y/n is driving. it would be understandable if their attention wasn’t fully there.

y/n ends the gps navigation as they push the center console to park. “i’m here.”

they haven’t been to beomgyu’s house in years, not since the incident occurred. frankly, the trauma it induced for them made them forget the details of the inside. the patio outside reminisces the other houses in this neighborhood. though it’s dark outside, the beaming stars in the night sky highlight the string of florescent lights that shape the doorway in the front. it’s a nice touch, they remember it made them feel comfortable coming in last time.

“it’s not too late to back out,” soobin says one last time. he’s still nervous for his best friend.

“i’ll be fine soobin,” y/n replies before he continues to go on. they stare at the home and release a whisper. “i hope.”

“okay, well, text us right after,” eliana cautions, bringing out her inner mother role.

a swarm of goodbyes and love you’s were exchanged before the call was ended. y/n detaches their phone from the dashboard and gathers their essentials and soon exit the vehicle. they give their car a lock as they head towards the doorway. each footstep is light, but tense. it’s until now that they see some bear stickers on the door and they can’t help but admire the cuteness. they wonder if that was a recent addition as it wasn’t there the last time.

with a big inhale, they ring the doorbell.

there was a moment of waiting and y/n contemplated ringing it one more time. they remember what eliana said about coming across as desperate, but they never cared about that prior to this. in all honesty, they needed to rely on beomgyu. he was their co-star after all.

why do they now feel this twisting feeling inside their stomach at the thought of being desperate?

y/n hears footsteps approach the door and they straighten their sweater to prepare. they’re wearing a simple white t-shirt that hugs their figure just right with a light blue hooded sweater, courtesy of kai. his clothes were always the comfiest and y/n made it a habit to search through his closet every time they come over. soobin gets slightly pouty at the thought. y/n doesn’t know if it’s because they borrow kai’s clothes, or if he wants to borrow them. the thought makes them chuckle.

fresh conditioned air blows right at y/n’s face as the door opens and the boy stands at the other end. he’s wearing brown plaid pajama bottoms topped with a beige crewneck with a teddy bear in the right corner. that little detail makes y/n think the decor on the door was intentional. a hint of softness makes some way into their heart. they fight the urge to smile.

“hey,” beomgyu greets with a downwards smile. “did you make it over here safe?”

beomgyu’s voice has a naturally tired tone to it. even if he’s not sleepy it always sounds casual and lustful. y/n doesn’t know if it’s always been like this or if they just noticed.

he’s also asking about their safety. who is this guy?

“um, yeah,” y/n replies as they rock their feet back and forth. beomgyu nods and realizes that he has to let them inside so he opens the door all the way and reaches his arm out to gesture the inside. y/n takes the offer.

with each step y/n observes the house as much as they can. it has been a while since they’ve been here but as far as they remember, not much has changed. some furniture has been rearranged and some new decor here and there, but it’s still very much beomgyu’s home. the interior has black and brown elements which gives it a homey feeling. it’s like if autumn and hot chocolate was a home.

just like he said, he did have the house to himself. beomgyu leads them to the kitchen and y/n sees a few family photos plastered on the fridge door. some were just of his parents, others were baby pictures of beomgyu. it seems like he’s always been on the devious side after catching a glance of a young boy pointing a toy gun at the camera with no thought behind his eyes.

y/n glimpses at a group photo with beomgyu, his parents, and an older child. they were posing in front of an amusement park with big grins on their faces. y/n has never seen this other boy before, perhaps it was beomgyu’s brother.

y/n shifts their gaze over to the kitchen counter and sees two bowls of ramen sitting in the center. guess he was being serious about providing them with food. they were starving though.

“i don’t know how you usually eat yours so i just put my fixings on,” beomgyu speaks slightly embarrassed. y/n eyes the bowl a little longer than they intended. they were just trying to piece together why on earth he would make them food.

“relax, i didn’t poison it or anything,” beomgyu jokes while holding the soup in his hands, digging into his first bite with his chopsticks. the idea did cross y/n’s mind, which makes them feel a bit apologetic.

is that how bad they see him?

y/n slowly walks over to the aisle and joins beomgyu. “do you want to work here?”

“we could go to my room,” beomgyu suggests as his eyes hide behind his bowl while he slurps some broth. there was no hint of anything sinister in beomgyu’s voice but the statement still makes y/n’s eyes widen.

“no,” they simply respond faster than they wished. they walk around the counter and sit in one of the spinning chairs where their bowl lays out in front of them. “right here is fine.”

beomgyu shrugs his shoulders and sits down next to them. y/n reaches to their tote bag and pulls out the lengthy script which has notes sticking out from certain areas and highlighted parts to accompany them. beomgyu nearly chokes mid slurp at the sight.

“sooo, how do we do this?” as beomgyu stretches out his question, y/n takes their first bite into their food. just as they feared, it was delicious. so much flavor in everything, but not too overbearing in being salty or spicy. they could attempt to figure out which brand he used, but they’re here for other things.

“well,” y/n finishes swallowing their food. “we could start with any questions you might have.”

“yeah, i’m sure you have all the answers,” beomgyu stiffly laughs as he brings his head forward to the script that centers in front of the two.

y/n feels their cheeks flush red and heat up at the exposure. they hope he doesn’t notice. “i just mean if you need anything to be clarified. it could help you play the role better.”

beomgyu draws in his breath and stares at the stack of papers longingly. throughout his education, he was taught to find the theme of each piece he reads. reading this script has given him an idea of what it could be in this case, but some parts are a bit foggy. he feels self-conscious asking y/n what it is. he doesn’t want them to think he’s an idiot, even though they probably already think he is. they’ve made their dislike for him quite obvious.

“um, i guess,” beomgyu holds his gaze in front but can feel y/n’s eyes on his. his blood pulses through his skin. “what this story is really about, you know, deep down.”

he’s expecting y/n to laugh in his face just like he did to them the other day, but they don’t. instead, y/n understandingly nods as they push their half eaten soup to the side to leave enough room to put their elbows on the table. for some reason, beomgyu finds this endearing. he was always scolded for leaving his elbows on the table. it wasn’t polite, apparently.

“well, ben is at crossroads when he gets into a college with a full basketball scholarship, but also gets into his dream school that would support his performing arts career. no one knows he's interested in that field so it's the good 'ol following the head or heart thing, which i'm always a sucker for.”

beomgyu watches y/n go on about the story for the production, even going over key plots that beomgyu might have missed. he notices there seems to be stars in y/n's eyes as they continue to talk. he can tell that they're speaking from the heart.

“i'm assuming that's the passion concept mrs. kim was going over in class the first day?” beomgyu guesses in thought.

“yeah, ben loves to perform and even plays guitar at some point,” y/n eagerly responds. “which should be easy for you, since you play right?”

beomgyu feels a small smile form on his lips. he quickly covers it up with another bite of his meal.

“wouldn't you consider that your passion?” y/n decides to try to get an answer out of him. it's been bugging them all this time that he hasn't been open about it.

“i know you really enjoy it, beomgyu,” y/n did catch his change in expression earlier. “you must be good at it too. if you admit that's what you're passionate about, it'll help you a ton.”

there's a moment of silence as beomgyu takes in their words and figures out what to do with them. the quiet atmosphere is almost uncomfortable and y/n can't tell if they've overstepped their boundaries. they consider leaving, but they did have an agenda here, and that was to rehearse some of this with beomgyu. instead, they opt for reaching to turn the page.

“i do love playing guitar,” beomgyu promptly admits. “and it is my passion. my uncle gave me my first guitar when i was in middle school and i haven't stopped playing since.”

y/n smiles at the thought of a small beomgyu, who was probably more unhinged than he is now, sitting down and playing a relaxing acoustic guitar. if they were told this years ago, they wouldn't have believed it. the more they look at beomgyu, it suits him. the calluses on certain fingers with those round, deep brown eyes of his focusing on a music sheet. the low husk to his voice covering songs with a beautiful essence.

“why didn't you want to admit it in class?” y/n realizes they needed to speak before it appears they've been staring at the boy for too long.

“because i barely wanted to admit it to myself,” beomgyu responds in full honesty. “my parents just see it as a hobby and don't think it can take me anywhere in life as it's not an official profession.”

y/n recalls the text beomgyu sent about only them and his parents knowing he plays guitar. his last sentence even has them think about their conversations with their dad, that sentiment hits too close to home. y/n chooses not to bring it up to beomgyu. they sit with caution as they wonder how many questions they could ask him.

“there's so many things you could do with that talent,” instead of potentially saying the wrong thing, y/n offers him some possible careers to lift his spirits. “you could be a songwriter, a producer. hey, even when you make it in the big leagues you could be a sound engineer in the blockbuster movies!”

there's a part to y/n's monologue that catches beomgyu's attention.

when you make it in the big leagues.

they didn't say if, they said when. beomgyu has never heard that word in regards to his future. it was always 'if', 'maybe', or any other tense that doubts his passion.

has he gotten his first supporter? and was it someone he has shared a moment so personal as a kiss?

“you said when,” beomgyu decides to bring up the fact.

it takes a moment for y/n to register what he means, but with the astonished expression on his face, the feeling soon settles in on them. y/n has their supporters, it was time for beomgyu to have his. despite how they feel about him and their past history that annoyingly hangs on their head, they weren't a monster. perhaps it was time to see beomgyu in a different light and it appears that they were the only one to do so.

“so throughout the story dae is there for ben to open his eyes in realizing that pursuing his dream is the right path to go,” y/n steers off in a different direction. “since it's romance, of course there has to be a fling between them.”

beomgyu softly smiles to himself picturing the story unfold. “i'm sure ben appreciates dae being there for him and seeing what he can do.”

y/n feels warm as they see beomgyu finally start to understand the plot and it only took them to have an honest conversation. talking with beomgyu wasn't as bad as they expected.

“i'm sure dae loves supporting him through it all when no one else would.”

beomgyu lifts his head up to face y/n who is gazing right back at him. it's the first time their expression isn't written in disgust or annoyance. in fact, it appears to be loving. he wishes it could always be like this.

the moment stretches out a little longer and beomgyu can't help but glance down at y/n's lips. he wonders if it still tastes like cherry chapstick. the red tint they have makes him believe it's still accurate. y/n catches the gesture and coughs down some air as they play with the edges of the paper. they fight the urge to not rip the ends of it and curl them into little balls, a habit they got from kai.

“so…yeonjun and taehyun don't know?” y/n speaks in an airy voice, their eyes still locked on the words written in front of them.

beomgyu doesn't know if they're referring to the guitar thing, or the kiss they shared four years ago.

frankly, y/n isn't sure about what they mean either.

still, beomgyu chooses an answer to please both questions.

“not a single thing.”

y/n hums in response, their lips tight together. beomgyu plays with the chopsticks in his now empty bowl when he hears a voice speak up once again.

“would you be able to play for me?”

beomgyu knows this question is referring to his talent for guitar, and due to the seriousness he's been displaying this entire time now, he switches gears for a lighthearted moment.

“i'll play for you when we go on a date.”

y/n would expect some rage boil down to their stomach, as they would have reacted that way before. this feeling, though? was it butterflies? nervousness? whatever it was, it sure wasn't negative. this night is full of firsts.

“do you…do you want to rehearse some of it now?” y/n clears their throat in between. beomgyu doesn't question their non-response and agrees with a head nod.

…

the two got through the first act right at midnight. to their surprise, beomgyu wasn't that bad at acting. sure, he missed a couple cues that ensued some awkward presentations, but it's nothing they couldn't work on together. they even liked the slight challenge. being co-stars with soobin now seemed too easy for them.

beomgyu was the difference they needed.

“you can be honest, you know,” beomgyu speaks in a playful manner as he finishes the last dish to wash. he hands the bowl for y/n to dry with a damp rag.

“i mean it! you weren't terrible,” y/n chuckles while they reach to put the bowl away in the cupboards.

after beomgyu and y/n finished rehearsing the first half they decided to wash the dishes. y/n didn't even suggest helping him dry, they just did it with no questions asked. still, it was another conversation starter.

“that means a lot coming from you,” beomgyu snickers and reaches for the rag in y/n's hands to dry his own. he smiles at them while looking down at their sweater, noticing a small stain of sauce near the front.

“hey, you got something there,” he points out as y/n glances down at the gesture, mentally cursing in their head. they hated getting their clothes dirty, let alone their borrowed ones from kai.

y/n whines as they reach for a paper towel to attempt to clean it off, only to have beomgyu stop them in between the action.

“you'll make it worse,” beomgyu advises. “i have a washing machine upstairs if you wanted to stay a little while longer.”

y/n would have rejected the offer if it weren't for their washing machine being repaired as they speak. they really loved this sweatshirt, they were hoping to wear it again this week. they scrunch their nose as their left eye slightly squints, thinking about what they should do.

they weren't repulsed by hanging out with beomgyu a little more, but sleep was about to hit them at any moment. it was better if they left now before they accidentally take a nap at a red light.

“i would but i should be getting home,” y/n apologetically responds.

“are you sure? you could give it to me and i'll have it ready for you tomorrow,” beomgyu cringes at the fact that he sounds like a dry cleaner. y/n finds it amusing.

man, how they loved that sweatshirt.

“fine just- don't screw it up,” y/n warns as they slip off the piece of clothing, feeling a breeze hit the bottom of their stomach as it lifts a little along with it.

y/n hands him the sweatshirt warily, hesitating to give it to him all the way, to which beomgyu responds with a deadpan. y/n smiles and ultimately gives it to him, and beomgyu places it on the couch for him to put away later.

y/n walks over to their tote bag and beomgyu suggests walking them outside. part of it was to be a gentleman, but he just wanted to see them drive away safely. y/n wouldn't be aware of the second option.

“don't forget your script next time,” y/n finally instructs him at the door. they're on the outside as beomgyu stays inside, hanging his arm on the doorframe as a slight smirk forms on his face.

“wouldn't count on it, i love this story too much now,” beomgyu doesn't mean to admit the last part, but y/n can't help but cheese at the statement.

“i'm glad to hear that,” y/n crosses their arms with a grin as they take a few steps back, ready to head to their vehicle.

“i'll give you updates on your sweater when i text you,” beomgyu calls out to them. “goodnight, drive safe.”

y/n sends over two thumbs up and begins to back up once they're inside their car. beomgyu doesn't head inside until they're completely out of his sight.

…

y/n doesn't fall asleep as quickly as they would've thought. they've been spending the past hour mindlessly scrolling through their feed, feeling their eyes blink slowly each time.

how could they sleep when tonight went better than they thought?

a notification appears at the top that brings a grin ear to ear and it's at this moment they realize one thing.

there would be no false promises between them and beomgyu.

there would be no more 'if's'.

please do not translate, modify or repost on other platforms.

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