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thelov3lybookworm · 3 months ago

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Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

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Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

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"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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imaginespazzi · 5 months ago

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Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away.

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night.

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily.

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved.

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else.

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone.

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?”

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet.

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late.

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave.

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay.

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away.

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter.

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart.

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine.

Until she’s not.

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine.

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck.

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down.

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out.

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers.

“What?”

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home.

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind.

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight.

April 2033

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age.

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word.

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her.

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen.

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes.

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room.

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse.

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too.

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever.

“Why would this be about Clémence?”

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again.

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown.

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks.

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?”

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave.

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off.

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had.

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years.

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown.

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again.

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it.

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp.

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could, “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze.

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever.

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too.

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back.

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk.

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug.

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face.

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs.

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests.

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women.

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins.

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking.

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world.

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette.

“Clém-” Azzi sighs.

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home.

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand.

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip.

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless.

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up.

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly.

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently.

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns.

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door.

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles.

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand.

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally.

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously.

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much.

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound.

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells.

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi.

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first.

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs.

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice.

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

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lightseoul · 2 years ago

Text

you're losing me

synopsis. bakugou proposes to you. you give him an unexpected response.

cw. gn!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged up (28 yrs old), some cussing

word count. 2.5k words

“Where is everybody?”

You ask as you look around the barren restaurant, which, on most days, is jampacked with high-profile customers. How Bakugou was able to get you both a table is beyond you.

“Don’t mind ‘em,” he says before dipping down to finish the rest of his soup. “They’re just a bunch of extras anyway.”

You merely hum in response.

A moment passes with the both of you finishing your appetizers when a question dawns on you.

“By the way,” you start, “what’s the occasion, Kats?”

At that, he frowns. “What, you’re saying I can’t treat my partner whenever I feel like it?”

You snort. “I don’t mean it like that. It’s just that we don’t usually opt for extremely overpriced restaurants.”

You gesture to your evening gown and his suit. “We don’t usually dress up either.”

“Yeah, well. Just go with it, okay?”

You stare at him for a beat before deciding to let it go.

“Okay.”

You’re down to the last bite of your dessert when Bakugou clears his throat. You look up, only to be met with the familiar expression of nervousness decorating his features.

It’s how he looked at you back when he first asked you out three years ago.

“You alright?” you ask.

He nods, “Peachy. Just need to tell you something.”

Almost instantaneously, your heart picks up its pace. You brace yourself for bad news.

“What is it?”

At your query, Bakugou suddenly stands up and circles your table, stopping right in front of you.

And before you could even comprehend what’s happening, he’s already on one knee, holding a small velvet box.

“Y/N.”

At the mention of your name, your heart doubles up its pace.

He continues, but your head is pulsing and your ears throbbing so loudly that you can barely make out the speech he’s currently giving you. You feel lightheaded, as well as the tears welling up in your eyes, clouding your vision.

He sounds uncharacteristically shy when he finally says, “Will you marry me?”

That’s the last thing you hear before you black out.

You’re met with a blinding white light when you come to.

You strain to sit up in order to look around, the movement causing Bakugou, who is on a stool beside your bed, to stir awake.

“Hey,” he says gently. “Take it easy.”

Robbed of all words, you nod, taking heed and slowly lifting yourself up into a seated position.

“Where am I?” you ask.

“The nearest hospital from the restaurant,” he explains. “You fainted.”

“Seriously?”

He nods, face stern. “Thankfully I was able to catch you before your head could hit the ground. We just need to run a few more tests before you get cleared for discharge.”

And with that, the elephant in the room remains as evident as ever.

“Look, Kats,” you start, “about earlier—”

“Let’s not talk about it right now,” he cuts you off. “Come on, let’s get you ready for discharge.”

You barely catch him before he goes to work the next day.

Bakugou’s not a morning person—you found out about that a week into dating him when you noticed how curt his messages were in the mornings—yet he’s now up at 6:24 AM, darting in and out of the rooms in your shared apartment, getting ready for the day.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s rushing to leave.

“You’re awake,” you say lamely as you enter the living room.

He grunts in response, attention directed to the duffel bag he always brings to the office on patrol days.

You want to ask him why he’s up this early, but ultimately decide against it. Instead, you say: “Did you pack your lunch already?”

“Yeah,” he gestures to his bag, “It’s in here.”

“Okay.”

You stand awkwardly by the door as you watch him zip his bag and adjust his civilian clothes that would be swapped in for his winter costume later.

He then walks up to you and presses a kiss on your forehead—so tentatively it makes you ache.

Since when did he get so hesitant with you?

“I’ll go then,” he announces.

And before you know it, the front door shuts, his perfume leaving a nostalgic fragrance in its trail.

Only then do you realize that I love you’s were not exchanged.

The days after are unremarkably the same.

He’s been getting up extra early so that by the time you wake up, he’s already on his way to the agency.

On top of that, he’s starting to work overtime now, too.

Lately, he’s been arriving home as late as almost midnight.

You try to wait up for him—you really do—but with your own work to get to the following mornings, you just couldn’t sustain that arrangement.

And so you rarely see him.

But to your relief, despite everything that’s gone wrong with Bakugou since the night he proposed, you still fall on the same bed at the end of the day.

Albeit his back is turned against you. Still, you’re grateful. There’s a certain comfort that blankets you whenever you’re near Bakugou, and that hasn’t changed one bit.

Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you mirror him, your back now facing his.

Which is why you don’t notice it until you hear a gasp.

Propping yourself up on your elbow, you look at Bakugou, who’s now sitting upright, chest heaving.

Quickly, you rouse yourself, facing him. “What’s wrong?”

He inhales deeply as his eyes dart towards you, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.

“Nightmare,” he croaks.

At that, you grab his ice-cold hands, squeezing them in yours. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A beat passes before he reluctantly shakes his head. “It’s just the usual.”

The usual. Being held hostage by that monster, getting kidnapped, being responsible for All Might’s—

“It doesn’t matter if it’s new or not,” you retort, squeezing his hands again in an attempt to anchor him to reality. “I’m here to listen, alright?”

Bakugou hesitates for a second before nodding, a pained expression written across his face.

He starts to lean in closer, probably to drop his head at the crook of your neck like he usually does when plagued with nightmares, before hesitating and leaning back.

“Okay.”

The next morning, you wake up not only to an empty bed, but an empty house.

Still half asleep, you trudge your way toward the kitchen, where a bento box is sitting on the island. On top of it is a sticky note that reads:

Going out w the guys after shift. Don’t wait up.

Your heart sinks at the thought of not being able to see Bakugou for the day.

Still, maybe he needs this night out.

You wouldn’t want to spend time with the person who rejected you either.

With a heavy heart, you get ready for the day yourself.

Work is the least of your concerns this morning, but you figure you have to go. You could use some distraction to take your mind off your crumbling relationship.

You’re in your bed reading that non-fiction you’ve been putting off for a while now when your phone rings.

You reach for your phone, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Kirishima’s caller ID.

Huh.

You press the green button after a few seconds of letting it ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N!” a cheery voice greets you. “This is Kirishima.”

“Hey, Ei,” you start, weirdly nervous. “How are you and the rest of the squad?”

“Actually, that’s why I called you. Can you pick Bakugou up? He’s so drunk.”

Your Katsuki? Drunk?

For some reason, the idea of talking to a drunk Bakugou, who also happens to be the bluntest version of himself, elicits an unpleasant feeling in your gut.

“Really?” you ask, voice small. “How much did he drink?”

“Not a lot, but the alcohol percentage of the ones he downed are pretty high.”

When you don’t respond for a while, he pipes up with: “Y/N?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

Kirishima sounds unsure when he asks, “Is everything okay with you guys?”

“Yes, Ei.” No, Ei. I inadvertently rejected his marriage proposal.

“Okay, that’s good to hear,” he starts. “It’s just that he barely mentioned you when he was still sober—which is a rare occurrence, if you only knew. He only started calling for you when he was three glasses in.”

Despite yourself, your stomach flips in delight. He’s still thinking about me, you think to yourself.

“Anyway, as I was saying, are you good to fetch him?”

“Yes,” you stand up and grab for your keys. “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

You’re situating the car in your designated parking space when Bakugou finally stirs awake.

Once you’re parked, you turn off the engine before you reach over the console to unfasten his seatbelt. Yours follows shortly after.

You look at him, whose eyes are still closed.

“We’re here, Kats.”

At the sound of your voice, his eyes shoot open and he examines his environment, alarmed. Once he catches sight of you, though, he visibly relaxes.

Only to straighten up in his seat, stiff and unable to look you in the eye.

“You didn’t have to, uh,” he stammers, struggling to formulate coherent sentences. “Get me. You didn’t have to get me.”

You shoot him a small smile. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

He doesn’t say anything after that, eyes trained on your car’s windshield.

A moment passes before he speaks again.

“My mom made me do it, you know.”

You stare at his side profile. “Made you do what?”

“Propose to you.”

“Oh.”

He shakes his head, almost in disagreement. “The old hag really wants me to get married. I told her we didn’t have to get married because we’re happy the way things are and that shit is just for formality. Told me I’d be missing out on you wearing a wedding dress.”

You snort, “That’s what convinced you to ask me?”

He grins. “Nah. I just realized I wanted to get married if it was to you.”

Before you can even react, Bakugou shifts in his seat, breaking eye contact.

“It was stupid of me, though.”

Your stomach drops in anticipatory dread. “Stupid of you to what?”

He chuckles, although he seems anything but happy. “Was stupid of me to think someone like you would say yes to someone like me.

“I—” he stutters, “I wouldn’t marry me either.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He sighs, “Just…who the fuck do I think am, proposing to you? I was a horrible person who fucked things up so many times growing up. Maybe this is karma biting me back in the ass.”

“Katsuki.”

“You can do way be—”

“Katsuki!”

He jerks his head to face you, bewildered and eyes glassy.

You reach over the console to hold his scarred hand, staring him down.

“Look at me.”

He does so.

“You’re not that person anymore, alright?” You squeeze his hand, “Please don’t do this to yourself.”

Under the intensity of your gaze, Bakugou can only nod in affirmation before you engulf him in your first hug in what feels like weeks.

“Come on,” you say when you finally part, “Let’s get you ready for bed.”

Bakugou sleeps like a baby by your side that night. Meanwhile, you stay up until the wee hours of the morning, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep.

He thinks you don’t want to marry him.

Your heart aches at the very thought of him grappling with the most false of all statements.

You want to marry him, you really do, but all your fears suddenly rose to the surface and enveloped you the second he went on one knee.

And that’s what you’re planning to confess to him tonight.

You wait, wrapped in the thickest jacket you own, seated on the bench for Bakugou to come. You left him a note alongside his bento box earlier this morning—a note that says to meet you at the indicated address.

Lost in your thoughts and in your internal monologue, you startle when somebody sits next to you.

You look to your right, only to see Bakugou in his thickest jacket, a gray beanie covering his ash blonde locks, cheeks pink from the cold.

“Do you remember this place?” you ask, voice quiet.

He scoffs, “Of course I do, dumbass.”

At that, you chuckle. “This is where we had our first date.”

He grunts in agreement. He doesn’t say anything after that.

A few seconds pass before he finally pipes up with: “So why did you bring me here?”

Your heart’s pace quickens at the query.

You gulp, although your voice still ends up shaky. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

You shake your head, “You don’t understand.”

He chuckles, that same one that translates to anything but happiness. “I think I do. You don’t want to marry me, I get it.”

“No,” you say, voice louder. “I want to marry you.”

At your admission, Bakugou turns to look you in the eye. The hopeful expression on his face is staggering, you want to curl up into a ball and cry. “What?”

“I said,” you repeat, “I want to marry you.”

His eyebrows furrow. “Then why have you been acting like you don’t?”

At his question, you can’t help but clench your eyes closed. This is too much, you think to yourself, but you owe Bakugou the truth.

“I’m just scared, Kats. Truly. I—” you stammer, “I just can’t shake off the fear of losing you one day. And I know your capabilities and I know how hard you work. Just that—I don’t know. The fear of seeing you killed one day is paralyzing.”

Bakugou reaches out to you, and you let him wipe away the tears that are now falling down your cheeks.

“I’m scared, too,” he offers. “But I don’t know.”

He shakes his head, “I’m more scared of not being with you.”

At his confession, you can’t help but smile. “I think that’s how I feel, too.”

You rest your head on Bakugou’s shoulder, your hand in his. You stay like that for a few minutes before you pull away and turn to regard him again.

“Can we start over?” you ask, “I want to propose to you soon.”

Bakugou smirks, nothing but elation on his face. He takes your other hand and squeezes it.

“Not if I propose to you first.”

tagging. @katsukis1wife @rinalou @loverboyrin @brunnetteiwik @beabe19

as always, reblogs, comments, and tags are appreciated <3

#as you can probably tell i did not proofread this at all #god this was a lot of work lmao #i hope you guys enjoy it <3 #bakugou x reader #bakugou x y/n #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou imagines #bnha imagines #mha imagines #bnha scenarios #mha scenarios #mha x reader #bnha x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou angst #whatever!!! it was fun okay!!!!

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benedictscanvas · 2 years ago

Note

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction

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its-not-that-weird-blog · 5 months ago

Text

On the wrong foot

Matt Rempe x Reader

Summary: Maybe starting off on the wrong foot wasn't as bad as everyone thought…

Warnings: A little angsty but nothing to bad, enemies to lovers.

A/N: Due to the lack of Matt Rempe´s fics, here you have one, hope you guys like it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language :) Let me know what you thought about this little fic

2.8k words

Being an intern for the New York Rangers has its ups and downs. Some positive aspects are that you get to do what you like (having fun on social media and forcing the players to make TikToks) and having free access to all the games in the season. All of that makes you grateful for this amazing opportunity, but there is one thing that makes this job unbearable..

And that is Matt Rempe, a cocky, 6'7" rookie who acts like he has the entire world in the palm of his hand. His arrogance and overconfidence make every interaction with him a challenge. He struts around the locker room, flaunting his height and abilities, often disregarding the efforts of those around him. His constant need for attention and validation only adds to the frustration, making what could be an amazing experience a bit of a nightmare.

Y/N and Matt started off on the wrong foot, meeting under the worst possible circumstances. It was the worst day of Y/N´s entire life. She had woken up late, throwing off her entire morning routine, and had to rush out the door without even grabbing a quick breakfast. Her day only got worse as she hurried to catch the train, only to miss it by mere seconds. By the time Y/N finally made it to the rink, she was frazzled, starving, and running on empty. That’s when she ran into Matt Rempe for the first time. Their initial encounter was less than pleasant, setting the tone for our strained relationship from the very start.

“You know this is a private practice, right?” Matt asked the poor frazzled girl.

“Yes, I am very aware of that,” she answered, chuckling. “You must be Matt, right? The new rookie?” Y/N asked, looking up at the lanky, very tall boy standing in front of her.

“Yeah, I mean, hard for you not to know, I guess... And you are?” Matt trailed off.

Y/N was taken aback, mainly because the team directors always made sure to let the new guys know who worked in what, especially in the media and marketing department.

“Oh, umm… I’m Y/N, one of the media interns,” she replied with a tight-lipped smile.

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Media intern, huh? So, what do you do? Take pictures and post tweets?”

“Actually, I manage the team's social media accounts, coordinate player interviews, and create content for our marketing campaigns,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite her irritation. “It’s a lot of work and responsibility.”

“Right, sure,” Matt said dismissively. “Well, try not to get in the way.”

Y/N felt a surge of frustration but forced herself to stay calm. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “And maybe you can try to remember who’s on your team next time.”

Matt smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anger and determination. She knew she had to prove herself, not just to Matt, but to everyone. This internship was too important to let one arrogant rookie ruin it for her.

She brushed it off, but it still annoyed her the audacity of that boy.

°°°°°°°°°°°

A few weeks had passed since their first encounter and it has been a constant fight between Y/N and Matt, mainly because of Matt’s attitude towards her. December rolled around and the team´s marketing director told the staff that they needed to do a promotional photoshoot to use during summer break.

It was a chilly Tuesday morning, and the team was gathered for the photoshoot at an outdoor rink. The bright sunlight reflected off the ice, creating a beautiful backdrop for the shoot. Y/N had been working tirelessly to ensure everything was set up perfectly: the lighting, the props, and the shoot schedule.

Matt Rempe, on the other hand, seemed determined to test Y/N’s patience today. As the players gathered for their turn in front of the camera, Y/N called Matt over for his individual shots.

“Alright, Matt, let’s get started,” Y/N said, holding up a clipboard and checking the list. “We need you to do a few action poses first, then we’ll get some close-ups.”

Matt strolled over with a cocky and sarcastic grin. “Sure thing, but can I ask, why do we have to do this out in the freezing cold? Couldn’t you find a warmer spot?” Making his grin disappear and tuning his face into an annoyed frown

Y/N kept her professional demeanor. “It’s about the look we’re going for. The outdoor rink adds a unique touch to the photos. Plus, it’s only for a short while.”

Matt sighed heavily but positioned himself on the ice. As Y/N instructed him to perform a few drills and poses, Matt’s resistance became evident. He was slow to follow instructions, often taking a few extra seconds to reposition himself, and his expressions were lackluster at best.

Y/N tried to stay patient as she gave him clear directions. “Matt, please try to focus on the details of the poses. We need these shots to look sharp and engaging.”

Matt responded with a distracted nod but continued to make minimal effort. When Y/N asked him to adjust his stance, he grumbled, “I’m doing my best here, but this isn’t exactly my favorite way to spend an afternoon.”

Y/N took a deep breath, keeping her frustration in check. “Matt, I understand it’s not the most exciting part of the job, but it’s important for the team’s image. We need to get this right.”

Matt didn’t seem to take her seriously. He continued to make things difficult for everyone, giving half-hearted poses, shooting dirty looks at the camera, and maintaining his scowl. The photographer was visibly annoyed, and Y/N could feel the tension rising.

“Matt, if you can’t cooperate, we’re going to have to reschedule,” Y/N said, her voice firm.

Matt stopped his antics and looked at Y/N, realizing she was serious. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But can we make this quick? I’m freezing out here.”

With a reluctant nod, Y/N directed Matt through the remaining poses, this time with a bit more cooperation. Though his attitude was far from perfect, he made an effort to follow directions and get the shots done. Y/N was relieved to finish the session and hoped that Matt’s cooperation would improve with time.

Matt’s POV:

A few days after my awkward encounter with Y/N at the photoshoot, I was at the rink, trying to shake off the frustration of another rough practice. As I was heading to the locker room, Trouba stopped me in the hallway, looking a bit more serious than usual.

“Dude, you should leave poor Y/N alone,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re driving her crazy, and not in the right way.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything that bad.”

“Really?” Jacob replied, his tone indicating he was unimpressed. “I’ve seen you giving her a hard time. She’s not just some intern; she’s part of the team’s media and marketing department. You’re making it difficult for her to do her job.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal. I thought I was just being straightforward.”

“It’s not about being straightforward,” Jacob explained. “It’s about showing some respect. She’s working hard behind the scenes, and she’s under enough pressure already. You don’t want to be the guy who makes things worse for her.”

I sighed, realizing he had a point. I hadn’t thought about how my behavior might be affecting Y/N. “Alright, I get it. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

Trouba nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good. Trust me, it’ll make things easier in the long run.” He started walking back toward the locker room but stopped and turned around to face me again. “And if you have a crush on her, that second-grade bullshit needs to stop.” He winked at me before finally leaving.

As Trouba walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to make things right with Y/N. It was clear that my attitude needed to change, and I had to start finding a way to work with her, not against her.

And maybe Jacob’s right; I might have a little—just the tiniest—crush on Y/N. She’s a gorgeous, smart, and driven girl, and because of my little game, she probably won’t give me the time of day. But first things first, I need to turn around the relationship we currently have, or rather, the lack thereof.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The next day, Matt found himself lingering outside the media office, trying to figure out how to approach Y/N. Apologizing wasn't something he was used to, especially when he wasn’t sure how she’d react. But he knew he had to start somewhere.

Y/N was at her desk, headphones on, focused on editing a video from the previous game. She hadn’t noticed Matt standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat, causing her to look up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” Y/N said, pulling off her headphones and sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about the other day. You know, at the photoshoot.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious where this was going. “Okay…”

“I realize I’ve been a bit of a jerk,” Matt admitted, his voice slightly strained. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you, and I’m sorry for being difficult.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his sudden apology. It was the last thing she expected from him. “Well, that’s… unexpected,” she said, not quite sure how to respond. “But I appreciate it.”

Matt nodded, feeling a small weight lift off his shoulders. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time, but I want to make it up to you. Maybe we can start over?”

Y/N studied him for a moment, searching for any signs of insincerity. To her surprise, Matt seemed genuinely contrite. “Alright,” she said finally, offering a small smile. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Relief washed over Matt, and he smiled back. “Great. Maybe I can help out with some of the social media stuff, or anything else you need?”

Y/N chuckled, the idea of Matt willingly helping with TikToks and Instagram posts was amusing. “We’ll see about that,” she said teasingly. “But I’ll definitely let you know if there’s anything you can do.”

Matt grinned, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. “Deal.”

As he left the office, Matt couldn’t help but feel a bit more relieved. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Y/N, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to turn things around.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°|

Over the next few weeks, Matt made a conscious effort to be more cooperative and approachable, especially when it came to Y/N’s work. It wasn’t always easy—old habits die hard—but he was determined to keep his word. Slowly but surely, the tension between them started to ease.

Y/N, for her part, noticed the change in Matt’s behavior. He was still cocky and sarcastic, but there was a noticeable shift in his attitude. He wasn’t as dismissive or difficult as before, and he even started to show some interest in the work she was doing. It was a refreshing change, and it made her job a little less stressful.

One day, as they were wrapping up a content planning meeting, Y/N decided to take a chance. “You know, Matt, we’re shooting a new series of TikToks next week,” she said casually. “We could use a player who’s good on camera… Interested?”

Matt smirked, recognizing the playful challenge in her voice. “Oh, so now you need my help?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Only if you’re up for it.”

Matt pretended to think it over, then nodded. “Alright, I’m in. But only if you promise to make me look good.”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to take direction without any complaints this time.”

“Fine,” Matt agreed, holding out his hand. “Shake on it?”

Y/N shook his hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, this internship wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

And as for Matt? Well, he found himself looking forward to working with Y/N a lot more than he’d expected.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

As the weeks passed, the collaboration between Y/N and Matt grew smoother, and so did their relationship. They began to banter more playfully, their exchanges losing the tension they once had. Y/N started to see a different side of Matt, the side that wasn’t all arrogance and bravado, but someone who was actually fun to be around.

Matt, too, couldn’t help but notice how much he enjoyed spending time with Y/N. Her sharpness, her determination, and the way she handled everything with grace under pressure all intrigued him. The more he got to know her, the more he found himself wanting to be around her.

One evening, after a long day of content creation and practice, Y/N was finishing up some last-minute edits in the media room. The office was quiet, with most of the staff having gone home. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice Matt walk in.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice broke the silence, startling Y/N slightly.

“Oh, fuck!” Y/N yelped, “ Matt, you scared me!” she exclaimed, laughing as she turned to face him. “What are you doing here so late?”

Matt leaned against the doorframe, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. It’s been a long day, and I figured you could use a break.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. This was the first time Matt had ever suggested something like this. “Are you asking me out on a dinner date?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Matt chuckled, his expression softening. “Yeah, I guess I am. What do you say?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They ended up at a cozy little diner not too far from the arena, the kind of place that felt welcoming and unpretentious. As they settled into a booth, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything, from their families and childhood memories to their hopes and dreams for the future.

For the first time, Y/N saw the genuine person behind the cocky exterior. Matt was funny, thoughtful, and surprisingly down-to-earth. The more they talked, the more she found herself drawn to him.

And Matt? He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Y/N looked when she laughed, or how her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. He realized that this wasn’t just a crush anymore, he was falling for her, and hard.

As they walked out of the diner, the night air cool and crisp, Matt felt a wave of nervous anticipation. He knew he didn’t want this night to end just yet.

“Y/N,” Matt began, stopping in front of her. “I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but… I really like you. And I want to see where this could go.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made her heart swell. “Matt, I like you too,” she admitted, a soft smile spreading across her face. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… you’ve shown me that there’s more to you than I thought.”

Matt took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… what now?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

Y/N’s smile widened as she closed the distance between them. “Now,” she said softly, “we see where this goes.”

With that, Matt leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, sweet kiss. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if both of them were testing the waters. But as Y/N responded, the kiss deepened, filled with a warmth and affection that had been building between them for weeks.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, but smiling. Matt rested his forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I’m really glad you didn’t let me mess this up,” Matt whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with happiness. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

Matt grinned, leaning in to kiss her again. “Yeah, we really do.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the streetlights, it was clear that this was the beginning of something special—something neither of them had expected, but both of them were more than ready to embrace.

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe x y/n #matt rempe fic #ny rangers #nhl imagine

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justwonder113 · 1 year ago

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Showering Hyunjin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: you just had to show your drama queen of a boyfriend how much you love him. word count:2.5k

Warning: lot's of kissing, reader is gender neutral, both of them are whipped, appearance of 3racha, predebut Han almost making an entrance, Hyunjin is drunk and a drama queen, overall soft stuff. Please tell me if I missed something

A/N- I'm back with another fic, this took me a while but I'm kinda really satisfied with it, I really hope you all like it. I will try to write the next part as soon as I can. I wanna finish these series as soon as I can, first of all because I'm all excited and can't wait, also I'm excited to try out new tropes, I was thinking of challenging one bed trope after this, with various different dynamics. The requests are open, if you want me to write something I'll gladly accept the challenge. Also feel free to share your thoughts with me, I absolutely adore interacting with y'all. If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

After sighing for the nth time you finally forced yourself to turn off the shitty netflix show you were watching to spend time. You had nothing to do and were bored out of your mind, but not to that context to sit through another minute of this. It was almost 3 am and any normal person would be asleep by now, but here you were wide awake, feeling nothing remotely close to sleepiness.

You sat up straight after laying for couple of hours and boy you regretted it. The dizzy spell you got was nothing to joke with, maybe you should check your iron levels. Also your poor muscles felt so sore you would surely feel all stiff tomorrow. Your back was killing you, and, not to be dramatic but, you would marry anyone on the spot if they managed to massage the knots out. It was safe to say, you desperately needed some good spa day.

Speaking of marriage and partners, you were curious on how Hyunjin was doing. Even a mere thought of your amazing boyfriend bought a smile to your face. You couldn't believe you two were actually dating after pining over him for so many years. You sure were lucky tho, to have a sweetheart like him as your boyfriend. Your one year annivercary was coming soon and you couldn't surprise wait to surprise him. You've been planning everything for weeks now and you made sure everything would be perfect. Well you had to share some of your plans with him, so that you could plan your day together but you still had major card up your sleeve and you were sure he would lose his mind when you showed it to him. Two days, you only had to wait for two days.

You couldn't help but sigh, you missed him so much. Even though you saw him two days ago it felt like centuries had passed. This boy made you feel so many so foreign emotions you were never sure you would get to or actually could experience. He always went above and beyond to make you feel like the most special and cherished person, and the fact that he also did so even before you two started dating each other. He was always so sweet and gentle with you. You always felt like a hero of a romance novel. Also you adored how being with him was so fun and exciting but at the same time bought peace to your heart and mind. You might be rushing into things but day by day, second by second you were convinced he was your soulmate, your other half.

A sudden buzzing of your phone startled you out of your daydream, you were curious who in their right mind was calling you at this hour.

Seeing the contact name had you even more confused. Why would Chan be calling you at 3 am? You knew the boys were out having fun night for themselves. Did something happen? You hoped he called you for other reasons, because it would really suck if their rare chance of having fun got ruined by something unplanned. You sure hoped everything was okay tho. Quickly as you could you grabbed your phone and answered it mentaly preparing yourself to hear anything Chan had to say.

Chan's call of your name bought you down to reality from another spiral of unnescesary thoughts.

"Hey Chan what's up?" You tried to sound as calm as you could.

Chan cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You quickly denied it," no I'm awake, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Chan chuckled and it made you relax a little, so nothing bad had happened, "yeah, yeah everything's fine , nothing to worry about, it's just your boyfriend is getting a bit fussy." You couldn't help but mirror the last word, you heard Chan chuckle. "Yeah alcohol must've got to him. We were about to go home, but he refuses to cooperate. He says he wants to go at yours because he as he quotes "misses his baby so much he can't take it anymore!" He dragged the words mimicking your boyfriend, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where are you guys, I can come pick him up." You suggested while searching for your keys with your eyes.

"No, no it's okay, we can bring him at yours. Binnie and Han are with me too so I don't think it will be much trouble. I just couldn't knock some sense into him, I told him to call you but he said his phone died. At some point he even ran towards your house or that's what he thought I had to tackle him before he could get lost. I don't think he can tell left from right in this state" He paused for a second, you heard someone talking but you couldn't hear anything, " I'm getting off track sorry, so it's good to bring him at yours?" You were full on chuckling now, what a silly little man.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I'm sorry he's being trouble."

"No it's fine, it's kinda endearing to see him this whipped. All he talked about was you and how amazing you are." Your cheeks hurt from smiling this wide, God, you loved that idiot. "Okay I won't bore you anymore, we'll be at yours soon."

"Okay I'm waiting."

After finishing the call you made sure you looked decent enough for your taste and that your apartment looked neat. You also prepared clothes for Hyunjin to change into from his drawer and some water and painkillers for tomorrow.

It didn't even take 20 minutes for the boys to arrive. The second you opened your door Hyunjin tackled you into a hug, almost knocking you over, thankfully Changbin and Chan caught you two before you could manage and break your necks. You giggled at your boyfriends eagerness, before frowning when you saw how swollen and red his eyes were. "What happened baby?" You cooed at him and moved his hair out of his face. Hyunjin sighed and hugged you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You heard collective sigh of boys and turned your attention to them, looking at them with confused eyes, hoping they would tell you what was up.

Han decided to break the silence-"don't worry he was just bawling his eyes the whole ride, crying how amazing and perfect you were and how there is no one like you." He said and rolled his eyes, you huffed out a laugh, you knew he had nothing against you, but he must have had enough of this. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at him, his hold on you tightened, you were not sure if he felt possesive or just couldn't keep himself straight. "You're just bitter cuz you're single!" Hearing your boyfriends grumble Han's eyes widened and for a second you were afraid predebut Han would return. "Oh I'm gonna beat his ass!" Han leaned in but Changbin held him back by his collar, Changbins gaze then turned to you and you noticed how tired he seemed. "Good luck, he's your headache now."

Chan looked at you" Do you need any help with anything?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "I can handle him. Do you guys wanna come in tho? Do you want something to drink?" After hearing the last word you could see all three of them shiver.

"We're fine. It's late too we better head home." Chan reassured you after glancing at Changbin and Han for their opinion.

"Okay, thanks again for bringin him. Tell me when you're home, it's really late."

You said your goodbyes and turned to hyunjin who looked at you with dazed, sparkling eyes. "Let's get you settled pretty boy." You took his hand and started leading him towards your bedroom. Hyunjin eagerly followed you, you were amazed how pliant he was being, usually he loved being a brat but he must have been too tired now to act so.

After helping Hyunjin get ready for bed, you quickly got changed too and got in bed next to him. turning to him you noticed that he looked at you with wide eyes, nowhere near sleepy now. You leaned in and removed hair from his forehead, "I thought you were sleepy baby." Hyunjin looked at you for a second or two and opened his arms, "wanna cuddle." His words were slurred but you still got what he meant, you smiled and immediately snuggled next to him his arms finding solace around you. Based on how content he looked, if he could he would start purring any second now. How was he so cute and lovable? You knew you were whipped for him but you could swear he looked extra yummy right now.

You spent couple of minutes like this, and based on his even breathing you were sure he was asleep now, but you were proved wrong when he huffed while glaring at you and then changed sides so that you were now facing his back. To be honest you were a bit dumbfounded.

"What's wrong sweetie?" You couldn't help but pry, you had no idea what could've brought this behavior from him. Hyunjin just huffed. You sighed for yourself, you had got to use the big guns. You leaned in closer, amused at how he tried to get away from your touch, as if he had much space to run off to, and soon, not really to your surprise you had him trapped in the corner of your bed. You wrapped your hand around his stiff body and leaned in closer so that you could sweetly whisper against his ear. " Please tell me what's wrong my love" you dragged his nickname as sweetly as you could knowing it made him weak in the knees, and it did break through him. Hyunjin sighed and laid on his back, you glued next to him, his lips were pouted and his eyes a little bit glossy, you rubbed his side to ease him into talking .

"You don't love me" he whined quietly, you expected to hear anything but this from him if you were honest. You blinked at him confused, trying to gather your thoughts, you were both perplexed and also hollering from laughter inside. He was so ridiculous sometimes. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers to play with his soft locks, Hyunjin immediately leaned into the touch.

"My love, I love you so much I don't think you can even comprehend it! What brought this up?" Your voice was soft, you wanted him to know how sincere you were. Hyunjin sighed and put his hand on your waist, successfully bringing you closer to him, your fingers migrated and now were gently scratching his nape. Hyunjin hid his face in the crook of your neck and quietly grumbled "you didn't kiss me even once since I got here, we haven't seen each other in a while tho." No matter how hard you tried you couldn't hold it in and started cackling, this adorable as hell drama Queen! He had you worried for nothing! You even thought for a second you did something wrong.

Noticing your shaking figure, Hyunjin looked up at you with doe eyes, and his pout deepened when he saw you that you were wholeheartedly laughing. "Stop laughing I'm talking from my heart here!" His comment made you laugh even harder. "I should've gone home, you hates me" noticing how sad he sounded you got reminded that he was drunk as hell and was feeling more fragile, you wondered tho if he would remember any of this in the morning? Was it too late to grab a camera? Pouty Hyunjin was adorable.

"I'm sorry my love, you know I love you the most." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and you knew he was playing with you, his eyes glimmered with mischief, well, two could play this game. You lowered your voice so you sounded almost sultry "Why don't you let me prove my sincerity to you then? Are you gonna let me?" You carefully watched as Hyunjin's eyes widened for a second, the big gulp and careful nod of his head.

This was all the permission you needed, you leaned in and carefully sealed your lips together, your boyfriend basically melted against you. You just loved how soft and pillowy his lips were, you always felt like you could kiss him for eternity.

The kiss started out soft, with you gently caressing his lips, his hand firm on your waist, holding you as if you were going to go away. Everything went quiet, you could only see, smell, taste, feel, hear him and so much more, he was the center of your universe. It was just you two right now, you didn't care about anything else. You had one goal only and you were dedicated. Everything about him was driving you crazy, you were sure he couldn't even grasp what, or how much you were feeling.

Your kisses quickly deepened and apart from gasping for air from time to time you two were inseparable, like two magnets pulling on each other.

The second Hyunjin leaned back for a second for some air, you decided to continue your little attack on his jaw, then his cheeks, absolutely loving the feel of his soft skin on your lips, then came his forehead, his eyelids, his beautiful nose, his chin, his neck... You wanted to cover every inch of him in kisses, to show appreciation to whichever god or gods crafted him, to show appreciation that this walking perfection was yours, his soft sighs and whines making you go even crazier.

You littered every part of skin you could reach with kisses until your lips were so numb and buzzing you got afraid they would fall off. Although, it didn't sound that bad, knowing the last thing they did was to kiss the Hwang Hyunjin senseless.

Looking at him, he looked at you with so much love and adoration, his face and neck all flushed, his breathing was quick and shallow,his hair all disheveled, his beautiful hands held you so tightly, your heart started fluttering all over again. He looked absolutely breathtaking, you wished you could engrave this moment into your mind for eternity. You smiled at him and softly grazed his cheek. "Are you satisfied with my answer my precious?" Your voice was soft, Hyunjin gleamed at you and eagerly nodded his head, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the bed, Hyunjin above you, hugging you as tight as he could, his lips softly kissing your collarbone. "Absolutely, I love you so much beautiful, you have no idea" he pressed another kiss on your neck and then your lips with so much love and passion you just knew your feelings were returned with the same passion and vigor.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated ^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

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frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 27 days ago

Text

@steddiemas week 2 - Lights, Mistletoe, Tradition, Red

rating: T | words: 1,649

wooo right in before the deadline lmao

<- back to previous part | next part ->

Steve knocks on the Munsons’ door at 10 the next morning. It’s only after he does, however, that he thinks that maybe Eddie won’t even be up yet, that he won’t be up for a couple more hours at least, despite what he said after dinner the night before;

“Gotta be up bright and early, Stevie dear, Wayne’s taking a double and someone’s gotta put up the tree.”

“You’re decorating already?”

“Sure am! It’s tradition to put the tree up the day after thanksgiving. Wanna come over and help?”

But, to his surprise, Eddie opens the door mere seconds after he’d knocked, the sounds of the local radio station’s Christmas music selections spilling out the door behind him.

“Finally,” he says, leaving the door open and turning to march back to an already open green tote in front of the couch.

“Sorry man, I honestly didn’t think you’d be up.” he laughs, following Eddie into the trailer. He kicks the snow off his boots in the doorway, toes them off, and closes the door behind him.

Looking around, Steve notices the already somewhat cramped space is more cramped now with the addition of a large cardboard box, a surprising number of rolls of wrapping paper in different stages of use, a pile of lights, and two plastic tubs, a green and a red, all spread out across the floor.

“What is all this stuff?”

“Our Christmas shit, duh.” Eddie says, bent in half over the tote and digging around at the bottom.

Steve takes the shortest moment to admire the view (A guy can have a crush on his relatively new, much-cooler-than-him friend if he wants to, alright?), then says, “Yeah Ed, I got that part, I mean, what is it all? What’s in the totes?” then walks over to the red tote and lifts off the lid.

A mess of ornaments awaits him under it; all of them loose, gold, green, red, and glittering.

“That one’s ornaments, this one’s garland, I think the tinsel’s in here too…?” more digging sounds.

“Why are they all just… loose?” Steve asks, picking up a green teardrop ornament. He’s used to his mother’s rigid everything has its place style of packing away the decorations every year, each fragile glass bauble having its own box or assigned spot in a big plastic tray… not like she’d been around to do the setup or take down the last couple years, but old habits die hard.

“Well it’s not like they’re gonna break, they’re all plastic.”

Steve scoffs a short laugh, shaking his head, “Alright, Munson, where do you wanna start?”

They start, of course, with the big cardboard box that holds the Munsons’ tree.

“You have an aluminum tree?” Steve asks with barely-hidden awe as he reads the red and green Evergleam Stainless Aluminum Christmas Tree on the side of the box. He’d always thought they were pretty, but his mom refused to have one in her home, said they were tacky (not to mention not nearly tall enough).

Eddie sighs, “Yeah, not what I woulda picked but,” he shrugs, pulling what looks like the stem of the tree out of the box, “Beggars and choosers and all that.”

“I think they’re great.” Steve says, taking the pole from Eddie.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I dunno, they’re so… shiny. So Christmas-y, y’know?”

Eddie gives him a look, but smiles, “Sure, I can see that.”

The two get to work, snapping the base and column of the tree together, then placing each of the branches into the holes dotted up and down the stem.

Eddie starts to pull the paper sleeves off the branches as he goes, and Steve finds himself entranced by finagling the spindly aluminum strips to look more tree-like.

He doesn’t know how long he spends wearing circles into Wayne’s carpet, but soon, Eddie comes to his side and asks, “Ready for the lights, Stevie?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah, sorry man.” he says, stepping back from the tree only to reach back out and fix the needles he brushed up against getting out of the way.

Eddie smiles, then drops to his hands and knees to crawl along the side of the couch to plug in the lights Steve now sees have been laid up and down the length of the living room and kitchen.

“You guys don’t have that spinny light thing?” He asks Eddie’s ass, then immediately regrets it. ‘Beggars and choosers and all that’. “I mean, uh..”

The warm white lights flicker on as Eddie shouts “Gotcha!” and shuffles backward, sitting up on his knees when finally free of the branches. Somehow, there’s tinsel in his hair now. Where’d that even come from??

“We do, actually, but it’s always been finicky. Pros of a ‘non-flammable’ tree means we don’t try to make things more flammable with untrustworthy motorized light doohickies, right?”

Steve blinks at him. “Did you just say ‘doohickies’?”

Eddie grins, “If I’m gonna quote Wayne, I’m gonna do it correctly.”

“Fair.” He laughs, holding out a hand for Eddie to take. Grabbing tight, Eddie heaves himself up off the floor.

“Alright big boy, you get to stringing those ones,” He says, pointing to the white lights, “While I untangle the other ones.” He picks up the other mess of lights triumphantly, a big grin still on his face.

It’s only then, when Eddie lets him go to pull at the lights, that Steve realizes he’d still been holding Eddie’s hand.

Steve gets the lights strung up around the little tree, and is rewarded with another good long look at Eddie’s backside while he plugs in the now untangled multicolored lights.

These ones are more familiar to him, “Hey, my grandma has these!” Steve says cheerily, examining the plastic petals around each light.

“Must be a grandma speciality, then.”

“Oh yeah? You a grandma, Ed?” Steve asks, carefully winding the lighted flowers back and forth across the tree.

Eddie snorts, “All this stuff was my grandma’s. Wayne got it when she died.”

Steve feels his face fall. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He glances up to see Eddie shrug, “She was before my time, but thanks.”

Eddie lets Steve work while he starts to dig through the totes; he’s got half the tote of greenery spilled out onto the floor by the time Steve goes to the other and starts to pick out ornaments.

He figured with a shiny silver tree like this that the gold ones wouldn’t look quite right, but the combination of color from the lights somehow makes it so only the gold would look right.

He’s pulling out the different shaped gold baubles when Eddie finds something.

“Ooh mistletoe~, how ‘bout it Stevie, you gonna lay one on me?” he croons, sidling up to Steve with one arm stretched above them.

“Shut up man,” Steve laughs, pushing him away on instinct alone and going back to the tote of ornaments.

Immediately, Steve can hear Robin’s voice in his head; “No! What are you doing?? You could’ve had your first boy kiss before my first girl kiss and you said NO? To EDDIE??”

Unaware of his turmoil, Eddie cackles good-naturedly as Steve’s heart thumps achingly in his chest.

He can’t help but imagine it, what it would’ve been like to take Eddie up on the offer, to just grab him up and plant one on him like he’s been wanting to for what, a good eight months now?

He’d kiss him, he’d blush all pretty, Steve’d say something corny and flirty and endearing, and Eddie would grin that big stupid grin at him and—

“Steve!”

Spell broken, Steve looks around at Eddie, standing over the faded tote with the scraggly-looking sprig of greenery still hanging from one of his fingers.. “What?”

Eddie shakes his head almost disbelievingly, “Whatta you mean ‘What?’? You’re the one zoning out in the middle of my living room, man.” He laughs, but it and his eyes are strained.

“Oh sorry, yeah. Just zoned out, promise.”

That seems to loosen Eddie up, “Okay, good.” He sighs, drops the mistletoe onto a cushion of the couch, and dives back in for two armfuls of garland.

Steve hangs ornaments on the tree while Eddie does his best to scare the shit out of him at every moment; he climbs up and all over the counters, the couch, Wayne’s recliner, all just to hang the garland around the cabinets and along the front of the shelves packed with mugs.

Eventually, they’re done.

The tree is lit, the garland is pinned in place where it won’t send any mugs careening down onto the couch below, every inch of the Munsons’ space is decked out and the unused decorations are being packed away into their totes.

“Last chance, big boy,” Eddie says, wiggling the fake plastic plant and his eyebrows at Steve.

He barks a short laugh and shakes his head fondly, and Eddie goes back to packing away the rest of the garland that was wrapped up in his other hand.

For a split moment, as he snaps the lid back onto his own tote, Steve wonders over his options, but knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t seize the moment.

He turns away from the red tote of ornaments, takes the three short steps to Eddie’s side, and plucks the mistletoe from Eddie’s hand.

Eddie, who turned automatically when he did, flushes beet red as Steve raises his hand and the little fake sprig of greenery above both their heads

Steve leans forward, and presses his lips to the warm apple of Eddie’s cheek.

He pulls back, and Eddie’s face is somehow redder. “Happy now, Munson?”

He’d meant for it to come out jokingly, willing to play it off if Eddie pushes back, but his voice comes out warm and low instead, with genuine curiosity colored through it.

Eddie gulps audibly, then breathes out a soft laugh, “Peachy.”

dividers from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!

#steddiemas 2024 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #noelle writes

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yourmomxx · 1 year ago

Text

➵ angels talking - social media au | ln4 (2)

❥ pairing - lando norris x fem!singer!reader

❥ plot - the aftermath of you announcing your new relationship

❥ warnings - none

❥ a/n: as always, the pictures are taken off pinterest and therefore do not have any consisency regarding the reader’s looks (as it is a self-insert and the photographs merely are for visualization)

part i | part ii - the number four

masterlist | requests

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen, parishilton and others

landonorris golden days with my golden girl

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bella.ltn screaming crying throwing up they’re so cute

paddockgirl not lando being a simp on main

↳ landonorris1 @/paddockgirl he’s just like us fr

carlossainz finally official🙏

↳ f1updates @/carlossainz oh hi carlos

kellypiquet tu ferais mieux de la garder @/landonorris

sebastianvettel real happy for you mate

↳ 33maxverstappen @/sebastianvettel we miss you on the grid

realobama her confused face in the second picture she’s just like me fr

hotchswife at first i didn’t know what to think of this but now i just think it’s amazing

suziesalmon new WAG alert

mollym the internet is going to eat this up

coconutananas NOOOO LANDOO

ynforreal guys we lost yn in the world of single ladies😔✊

↳ lanadelslay @/ynforreal i don’t know how to stay strong in this time of grief

lilymhe LANDO I LOVE YOU FOR THIS

↳ alexalbon @/lilymhe ???

alexalbon you just had to start dating my girlfriend’s favorite singer mate didn’t you?

lilyzneimer wishing you guys all the best

alexandrasaintmleux ♥️♥️

↳ lanadelslay @/alexandrasaintmleux ALEX HIII

ao3chick love how all the driver’s girlfriends are commenting like moms signing cards in the name of their kids

danielricciardo congrats!!!

↳ landonorris @/danielricciardo i saw your comment on her post

↳ danielricciardo @/landonorris what comment on whose post? i don’t even speak english🦡

lastlaplando not them being cute

julie.ss highway looking real cozy right now🤭

f1n1fan seb being the proud mom i love him🫶

♔꙳⋆ twitter ꙳⋆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername excited to tell you that my new song ‘444’ is available to listen to now on all music streaming platforms! oh, and also that my new album will be released november 22nd😘save the date

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itsbrutalouthere not her telling us about a new album TWO WEEKS before it comes out

sabrinacarpenter song is so amazing babe

papayagirl someone please call taylor swift and get that girl some marketing help😭

lukehemmings 🔥🔥

oliviarodrigo LOVE IT

iknewyouweretrouble I just listened to the song and i am deceased

ynisbabe 444? EXCUSE ME THE MATH

hannahmountana this song is so hot i can’t -

jessicag you did so well with this!!

amslerin please come to la on the next tour i wanna see you live so bad😩😩

jana_gp GIRL WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ANGELS TOLD YOU HES NOT RIGHT FOR YOU

↳ xemily @/jana_gp WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE NUMBER 444 WAS A SIGN TO LEAVE HIM

ynlnn the background music? the vocals?? i can’t anymore

tswizzle 444 the math is so beautiful on this one

kellykiwi the mv awakened something in me

urnamehere i love this song so much

hamiltonh 444? a fourth album? lando the number four?? BESTIE

therealyn queen of manifesting fr

ferrarisupreme “444 you saved my life i really got these angels by my side” lando norris the man👏 that👏you👏 are👏

tangledinu NEW ALBUM YES

midnightprentiss already presaved i’m so excited

ameliadahlia why is everyone talking about math here?? someone explain i’m so lost😭

↳ sabrinajenga @/ameliadahlia @/girlsplainingcelebrities made a post explaining it all, i’ll tag you🫶

girlsplainingcelebrities

liked by papayagirl, sarahprg and others

girlsplainingcelebrities another day, another girlsplain! today, what the number four means to our favorite popstar girly, yn yln!!🩷

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boxnexx not to mention that the new album she’s releasing will be her fourth!!! so excited what she has planned for us

zeeema the whole thing with her and lando is so cute

emilyx i always look forward to your posts☺️🙏

sabrinajenga @/amiadahlia

herbsherm whoever runs this account, you have saved my ass so many times, hope your pillow is cold on both sides

leaglb whether you believe in angel numbers or not, these would be a whole of a lot coincidences

formeformulas when i heard "every time i see 444 it means no more i know for sure" i was FREAKING

cheesestrings ALSO not to mention her album comes out on november 22ND - 2+2=?

tswizzle she’s so smart i love her

ynisbabe when my teachers told me i would need maths outside of school they actually meant this

carlaarcher can we please all agree that 444 is about her relationship with arthur and that it was basically lando who made her realize he wasn’t good enough?

↳ paddockgirl @/carlaarcher GURL FR no way those two didn’t have something going on

↳ leclercsgirl @/paddockgirl besides, the media didn’t see her with any other guy during that time the song is probably set, so it CAN only be arthur

↳ itsellie @/leclersgirl would explain their radio silence with each other as well

↳ bella.ltn @/itsellie tbh if my boyfriend practically stopped posting me on his social media or acknowledging my existence the moment we got more serious i would dump that man too

vanityfair and yourusername

liked by tswizzle, papayagirl and others

vanityfair Singer-Songwriter YN YLN talks Split from Rumoured Childhood Romance Arthur Leclerc, Release of New Song and Announcement of Fourth Album, and Relationship with Formula 1-Driver Lando Norris

Click on the Link in the Bio to watch the entire Interview

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coconutananas that caption is longer than my life span😭

mollym girl was busy the past few weeks

ylnwife i am so in love with everything this woman has been doing for the past few months, this is amazing

factorfic just watched it and it is so amazing!! love how her and lando have the same sass, they fit perfectly tbh

charthurleclerc the day we find out what really happened between her and arthur leclerc will be the day i can finally rest

itsbrutalouthere "I'm a ferrari girl" -YN YLN, girlfriend of MCLAREN DRIVER Lando Norris, 2023

↳ landonorris1 @/itsbrutalouthere loved her for this

↳ bimess @/itsbrutalouthere PLS the way she was like "I love my boyfriend but everytime a ferrari is on pole I risk a breakup" she's so real

ynisbabe she looks so good here hello???

emilyzkn can’t wait for the albummmmm oh my god

jilledits i swear to god if she spills more tea about arthur i will be FERAL

wanderwall now all we need is someone interviewing lando about her and my life will be complete

jawdropforkpop i’m already so excited for her new album, i can’t even

peppyi her new song was so good, can’t wait for the album!!

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icarusredwings · 2 months ago

Text

A date with Death.

Slightly nsfw.

The moon is out. The only thing about this specific moon is that it's a full moon. The Blood moon to be specific.

They came every march. And every march you could count on Wade Wilson to be busy that night.

Currently, he was sitting at the top of a sky scraper, kicking his feet over the edge with earbuds in.

Next to him was a sweet little spread, an expensive wine, two glasses, a couple of sodas, a bag of burger and fries, and a box with a small heart-shaped cake inside it, strawberries lining the top.

In his hands was a large bouquet of dark colored roses, burgandy, black, and reds (of course). He knew the moment he gave them to their recipient, they would die instantly, but he knew so would he. And he was okay with that.

Starting to hum, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, glancing at his hello kitty watch. 5 til 3.

Any moment now, he thought, glancing at the things next to him, moving the glasses over to be closer to the cake, wanting it to look perfect.

Look, if anything, he was a lover. A lover who just happened to love fighting and love kiling. But that didn't make him any less of a hopeless romantic, especially for dark harked ladies that thought he was funny.

Sure, Wade had a lot of lovers. Never being able to pin himself to just one. He spent more time with some than others, but it didn't mean he loved them any less. Even if it was only a couple of minutes a week or, in this case, an hour a year. A singular, annual date.

No, it wasn't merely enough for him, not enough for her either, but he enjoyed their little time together. How she held him and replied to his quips with further jokes that turned him into a puppy, head over heels.

It's not his fault his heart was so big. Honestly. But he knew that even if everyone left him, she would still come each March to see him.

"Welp.." He whispers, wrapping up his Ipod, laying it neatly next to the sodas as he stood up.

Turning on the heel of his good shoes (cheap half off dressage from the thrift, slightly tight, but perfect for dancing) he held the roses near his chest, like a corpse he leaned back, letting himslef fall.

This had to be one of his favorite parts. The cool wind on his back, the freshly ironed jeans and button-up flapping in the wind, the soft sherpa lined denim feeling like laying in a bed of sheep.

"Oh my darling.. Must you always take a swan dive off a 50 story building?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to see that he was back up on that roof, the dark robbed woman rubbing her hand on his arm.

"How else am I supposed to get your attention, sugar?"

She giggles, glancing over the side with an inquisitive hum. "Hhm.. always such a lovely color of red for me."

"Of course. Anything for my boney muffin." He takes her hand, kissing it softly.

"Wade Wilson, you flirt."

"My middle name. How was your trip, pumpkin?"

"Mmh... decent. Such a tease you are. You know that?"

"Obviously. Oh! These are for you. Put them on my grave when I finally get one, willya?" He coes.

She accepts the flowers, barley getting a hold on them before they wilted, drying up. Dying.

"They're beautiful.. but.. erm.. Who's that?" She questions, glancing behind them to a dark figure practically clinging to the roof top exist door.

"Oh, that's just Wolvie. He's fine, got him a number 5 meal and a soda. He's scared of heights." Wade grins, giving him a lazy wave but Logan didn't take his claws out of the metal door to wave back, the other hand holding a burger but he did tip his head. "Ma'am."

"Yeah, he should be at the end of your book somewhere. Slipepry one. Just like me."

"Mmh.. Logan Howlett...Wait I thought I've already taken him?"

"You did! He's a different one. The best one." He smiles towards the man, putting his head agisnt her shoulder.

"The man with many names.... Yes, he should be."

"Huh?"

"He should be scared of heights. I've been trying to catch him since the early 1900s. Slippery indeed...Finally caught him a few years back." She doesn't bat another.. well... dosn't move her skull away from him.

Becoming a bit nervous, Wade intertwined their hands. "Y-yeah he uh... he was curious. So.. you dont have to worry about him, though. Oh! Look! The ambulance finally showed up. Sheesh, tough break, fellas. You're too late!" He shouts at them.

"I see.." she turns back to Wade, grinning. "Don't worry.. I won't take him from you just yet.. he IS the one you were talking about last time, Yes?"

Now, Wade wasn't blind. Death was a jealous woman. Possesive of what was hers. Though Wade wasn't hers. Not quite yet. Not for.. awhile.

It's why she was so intrigued with him. So infatuated. She's never met a human that has wanted to die so much in all these centuries. So badly wishing he could crawl into her arms and let her pet his head for thousands of years as eternity went by.

He nods, blushing a bit. "Y-yeah.."

"Mmh.. quite a looker is he not?"

"Oh he so is. And he acts all tough but really hes a bit softy."

"I bet he's not soft everywhere-" She says, cassually, making Wade cough out a chuckle.

"Oh- my- god! My lady's a freak!" He laughs, still kicking his feet some as he grunts. "Not wrong tho.."

"I bet not." He watches as she looks over the small moonlight picnic he laid out for them. "Wade.. what is all this?"

"It's for our date! I made a cake and everything- well actually Wolvie helped me make it but I cut up the strawberries!"

"You did? Aww, you must be tired from such hard work. But my love..you know I can't eat." She says, frowning, not wanting to rain on his small parade.

"Oh I thought about that already. So I can eat it and then you can taste it. Fun right?"

Her black heart swells, running her hand up to behind his ear, holding his jaw. "You're too sweet."

Wade closes his eyes, leaning into hold, her thumb running over his cheek.

"Hopefully, his icing is as sweet as the cake." She whispers as he gasps, genuienly becoming giggling. "Sttaapph! You're so bad!"

"The baddest?"

Somehow, Wade knew she was giving him those eyes. The kind that suggested something.

"Oooh, the baddest. You know it, babe. Good thing I love me a bad bitch huh? Actually, It's a good thing you like funny losers. Guess in the lucky one."

"Wade.." She says, "you're not that funny."

"Ouch!!" He exclaims, hand drimatically going over his heart, shifting to fall into her lap. "You've wounded me!!" He whined, sticking out his tongue, pretending to be dead.

She laughs through her nose, holding his head in her thighs, petting over his head as she grabs his hand, rubbing over his bumpy skin.

"You're pretty hot tho.." she mutters, bringing the hand to her breast with a teasing smile.

Opening his eyes, he looks up to her with a big shit eating grin. "Oh, you flatter me! And apology accepted." Sitting up he brings the hand to her neck, starting to kiss up her jaw, little pecks.

"You really mean that? Me being pretty hot? And which is it? Am I pretty or am I hot? Cause I think you're gorgeous-"

"Wade."

"I mean, truly, deeply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I don't just mean your killer rack either-"

"Wade."

"Did you do your hair for me? Goddess, forgive me for saying this, but damn, How are you so fine? Half of you is literally bone and Id still fuck ya until your hip needs replaced, What do you think? Right here on the roof? Hm?"

Pushing the food over, he starts to run his fingers down her side, getting to the point where her waist used to be. "Fuck, babe how are you so tiny down here? You know what, We'll fix that. Lemme pump a baby in ya-"

"Wade!" This time, It came from about 30 feet away, behind them.

"Wha!?"

"Let her speak! Damn!"

"oh..." Honestly, he had forgotten entirely that Logan was even here. He was so quiet..

"I tried to warn you, darling.."

"Well, I'm not sorry! He knew what he was getting into when he came here.. I can't believe I even let him come.. cockblocked on my own date.." he mutters, obviously frustrated as he agressivly popped open the wine bottle, starting to pour.

Seeing how upset he got only made her smile, pulling his waist closer, her hand dipping to 'accidently' brush up against him.

"Why would I thought that was a good-" for a second he stopped talking, leaning his head back into her boobs with a big smirk. "Oh but IM the tease?"

"Shh. Your cock dosn't seem very blocked to me."

A small squeal came from him as he handed a glass to her after swirling it a couple of times.

"A nosotros mi carino." He says, rolling his r all fancy like, leaning on her still with such comfortably.

The smiles, smirking lovingly. "A la esperanza de que te rompas el cuello mi amor~" She coes back, raising her glass to his until it made a CLNK noise, dumping it into her mouth.

Wade does the same, chugging the glass only to sit up, crawling to the edge as he coughs, spitting it out. "Oh, that's HORRIBLE! Jesus! White woman drink that shit? Why? I mean- I get it- after having to watch 5 hours of a pathetic excuse for a soccor game, I'd drink that too."

Death giggles, watching Wade refill their glasses.

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beebee18 · 7 months ago

Text

Ramen & Confessions

Lee Know x Reader

Genre; fluff, frenemies to lovers, feel good.

Characters; Minho, Y/n, Felix Brief mention- Changbin, Han, Chan & Hyunjin

Summary; You and Minho never were the best of friends however his worry when you finally attend movie night after being mia for a week seems to give way for his seemingly cool confession.

Warnings; Extremely cliche, slight insecurities, tall reader (like 5'7 and more), like one bad word.

(I made a post long time ago about a Minho ff and you guys asked to be tagged. I would like to apologize for it not being a complete ff but I hope you enjoy this oneshot of cheesiness.) @antisocial-socialbutterfly @lixxpix @kaiyaba

Main masterlist skz masterlist

Your thoughts lingered on Minho when you remembered him staring at you in the doorway, and after your talk with Felix. Even if you didn't like each other, not that you didn't, he was handsome and caring & sweet. It would be impossible to not crush on the guy, you owed him an apology.

So you moved to sit closer to him. He was surprised, to say the least, when you tapped his thigh to get his attention.

Turning to face you was not a good idea, you were so close, a mere jerk of his head and your lips would meet his, with the tv lights flashing at you, your brown eyes framed by those cute little glasses, slightly dishevelled curly hair framing your face oh so beautifully, and that smile with your barely there dimples (you insisted you had), you were a sight.

This was the closest and calmest you had been with each other in a while and it seemed to stop time for a second. He looked so pretty, his bedhead, sweats and no makeup on, shiny brown eyes looking into yours, the mole on his nose so cute you want to just boop it and that look of surprise mixed with concern on his face could melt you into a puddle if physically possible.

"I'm sorry I disappeared without saying anything." You started in a hushed voice, so as to not disturb the others. "I should have told you guys why earlier."

A snarky remark or comment would've been better cause what he did next made your heart skip a beat.

"It's okay y/n, I'm not gonna lie I was concerned, especially with Felix reminding everyone every minute that you could've 'died'. I am glad you're back." He nudged your arm with his and went back to the tv screen.

You stared at Minho side, small smile on your face, for a few seconds before Han coughed from behind the man, smirking at you, making you blush, you quickly turned to the screen to distract yourself.

Nearing the end of the movie people were asleep, mainly Felix, Han, Changbin and Hyunjin and somehow in a pile... Chan took off a few minutes ago to the studio leaving you and Minho the only ones awake.

After the movie ended you both looked around the find the human pile of idols making you giggle and Minho shake his head to stifle a laugh.

"Are you gonna put them to bed? How would that even work?" You ask standing up to help clean the remnants of the night.

"Eh just let them be, they'll separate when they want to. Are you leaving?" He asks as you start collecting your stuff, his expression slightly glum.

"I'll just move my stuff aside so I can help you clean, don't want you to do all this alone." You smiled at him putting your bag away and offering him a hand.

Minho swore he could scream in that moment.

He did take your hand and stood up facing you. You both just stood there for a few seconds, hands in each others before he cleared his throat.

You looked down and started gathering wrappers, bowls and edible food that just fell to take to the kitchen, so did Minho. And that's how he ended up making you both ramen.

He'd asked if you were hungry and you replied yes, after that no words were spoken. You went out to check on the boys, switch off electronics and when you came back there were two packs of cup noodles in front of Minho on the counter as he waited for the water to boil.

"Minho what... " You trailed off a questioning look on your face.

"You said you were hungry so..." He shrugs, smiling sheepishly, making the butterflies in your stomach go crazy.

You went and stood next to him, shoulders brushing the others, as he poured water in the cups and looked at you for a second, you grin at him in return which makes him chuckle, effectively hiding the cute that slipped his lips.

"Why are you laughing?" You ask him, giggling a little yourself, leaning on the counter adjacent to him. He was so cute and pure like this, you wanted to crush him in a hug so bad.

Once he was done with his fit of laughter he turns to you, coming closer, closer than ever. The proximity burned you, you guys weren't even on speaking terms 2 weeks ago and now...

"Wha-what are you doing?" You ask not wanting to embarrass yourself but you were flustered beyond belief and he was being nice?? To you??

"How come you don't hate me?" He asked staring into your eyes, he wanted a genuine answer, there was no point in lying to him, he seemed impatient.

"Well, you being mean isn't a reason for me to hate you. I knew not every one of Felix's friends would like me, it was okay. I was coping just well by being mean back. There was never any hate from my side. Unfortunately for me, the one I like, doesn't like me back...." The look of shock on your face as you slapped your hand over your mouth made Minho throw his head back in laughter.

People often said you rambled or spoke a lot. You agree now.

The embarrassment slowly creeping up on you. You made a move to slip away but Minho put his hands down by your hips on the counter and laugh slowly dissipating into a small smile, looking at your blushed face now.

"I'm sorry for being mean to you, truth is, I like you a lot. I've liked you since you visited us at dance practice for the first time and brought everyone homemade cookies. I was shy, I still am but your flustered state gives me confidence." He says, wanting to kiss the small pout from your face.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You asked, finally processing his words.

He liked you?? He still likes you?!

"I couldn't at the time, you were bestfriends with Felix, I didn't want the dynamic to shift plus there was a high possibility you liked any of the other 7 dudes in the group." He finishes scratching the back of his neck, looking down ears going red.

"And you?"

"Oh, I-I just, I didn't think someone like you would fancy someone like me." You hesitated gesturing to yourself, the insecurities finally creeping up.

Great way to ruin the moment brain.

"Someone like me?" He questioned, raising one of his eyebrows, tonguing his cheek as if he knew what was coming.

"Come on Min, look at you, your life, the people around you. I don't fit in, like a friend great but not as anything more. I know I sound dumb after we've both basically confessed but still..." You finish hesitantly.

"Y/n you'd fit right in. You fit amazing right now, that would just be a few more steps, it would work if we wanted it to." He says comforting you, his heart pacing at the nickname.

"Also I'm not your type, remember Han Sora, the girl you dated when I first met you guys, she was so pretty and petite, her clothes and shit. I admired her so much. She's your type, not me." You finish, eyes dropping to his chest to avoid his piercing gaze, that's all the argument you had.

"First of all, she was a publicity stunt and an obsessed trainee who was fired after I complained." He says, placing his right hand on your jaw, making you look him in the eyes. "Secondly, you're beautiful, kind, funny, smart, mature and well dressed. Being taller than the national average of a country you don't belong to is nothing to be insecure of, and let's be honest..." He lips tug up into a smile, hand falling to your hip from your jaw "...those thighs, are to die for." He says slowly with a wink, making you widen your eyes with shock and blushing like crazy.

"You wanna know who my type is?" He asks, searching for uncertainty in your eyes.

"Who?"

"You."

His lips came close to yours, an inch of a distance between them. He wanted you to make the final move, being careful so you'd have nothing to regret.

Your lips met, his hands on your hips, yours around his shoulders. Months of silently crushing on each other, finally being able to express it.

When he angled his face to deepen the kiss and your noses bumped, you separated, a giggle leaving you. He smiled softly, complete adoration in his eyes.

"Now what?" You asked, a warm feeling spreading through you.

"You wanna have ramen with me?" He asks, smirking, gesturing to the cups that have been sitting out for the past 15 minutes.

You scrunched your nose at the implication, your stomach saying other things "But like, I'm actually hungry." A small pout appearing on your face.

He quickly kissed it away taking your hand in his, walking into the living room to collect his things and yours, and now towards the door.

"Where are we going?"

"Our first date, the convenience store across the street. Great ramen!" He winks at you before pulling you closer into his chest, smiling wide at you, you couldn't help but reciprocate.

....

Texting; ( Y/n, Felix )

Felix: Did you leave already?

Felix: Where's Minho? Is he dropping you off?

Felix: He is, isn't he? 😏

Felix: Told you he had a thing for you.

Felix: Oh yeah ignore Lix when he's right, sure sure, I get it.

....

Texting; ( Minho, Felix )

Felix: Don't fbck this up.

Minho: Never Lix, never.

#stray kids #skz #skz fanfic #skz fluff #lee know #lee minho #lee know x reader #lee know x you #lee know x y/n #lee know fluff #kpop #skz x y/n #skz x reader #ramen & confessions

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little-diable · 1 year ago

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Jessie - Dean Winchester (smut)

Another song fic, are we surprised? No, we aren’t. We really aren’t. Inspired by the song “Jessie” by Joshua Kadison. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader is missing Dean too much, so she tells him all about the places she wants to visit with him – mere dreams Dean is set on turning real.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, car sex, very fluffy

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (1.6k words)

“Hello?” Dean’s raspy voice echoed through the motel room, eyes flickering to the alarm clock placed on the old nightstand, reading 5:01 am. With a sigh leaving him, he plopped back down on the bed, waiting for her to start talking, not yet fully awake just yet.

“Dean? Hi, uhm, It’s me.” His heart skipped a beat at the sound of (y/n)’s voice, unable to stop his smile from spreading. With his tongue kissing his teeth he allowed himself to relax even further into the mattress, happy to hear the voice of the woman he had been in love with for years. “Did I wake you? I probably did, huh?”

“It’s alright, sweetheart. What’s going on? Nightmares again?” A hum left her, he could hear (y/n) shuffling around, probably trying to get comfortable on her mattress – the mattress he hadn’t been laying on for weeks, missing her more than words would ever be able to describe. “Talk to me, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

“You know, I’ve been thinking about a trailer by the sea, we could go to Mexico. We'll drink tequila and look for seashells. Doesn’t that sound sweet?” Dean’s heart couldn’t help but ache at the words rolling off her tongue, a quiet confession he longed for just as much as she did, desperate to grab her and a few boxes filled with clothes, set on moving away from the life Dean was fully stuck in.

“That does sound sweet indeed. You can always sell your dreams to me, you know that, darling.” For a few seconds neither of them spoke up, cherishing the quiet this night offered to them, minds taking them to the places they could only dream of, wondering if they’d ever be fortunate enough to spend their upcoming years together, somewhere new, somewhere where nobody knew either one of them. “I’ll try to drive down next week, we should be done here soon.”

“Don’t feel pressured, we both know you and Sammy are the only ones who can save this world.” Dean’s raspy chuckles clawed through him, fingers rubbing his tired eyes. Before either one of them could speak up once again, the door of the motel room was pushed open, exposing a sweaty Sam, returning from his morning run. And with a low “I love you, sweetheart” Dean ended the call, not sparing the teasing smirk his brother wore any of his attention.

……

She woke with a gasp, eyes finding an all too familiar pair of green ones. Dean’s cold hands were settled on her waist, waking her from her nap. With a gasp rumbling through (y/n), she pulled him down, arms wrapped around his neck, legs around his waist, murmuring his name as if she was trying to convince herself that he was actually there with her.

“I missed you, sweetheart.” Dean murmured his words against her neck, fingers teasing her skin, trying to pull her even closer, not daring to let her go just yet. Oh how he had missed being with her, how he had missed the four walls she called her own, allowing Dean to find his way back to her whenever he could squeeze in a few calmer days.

“God, I missed you too, so much. How are you? Any scratches I should take care of?” One of her hands began to stroke its way down his spine, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. Her touch had something awfully familiar to it, and yet Dean still struggled to accept that she was his, his only.

„No, I am okay. Come, I want to take you somewhere.“ Dean rose from the bed once again, hand stretched out for her to take. She looked up at him for a few moments, confusion swimming in her pupils till she finally gave in, allowing Dean to pull her in for another tight hug. “You trust me, right?”

“Of course I do.” Her giggles were swallowed by the kiss Dean pressed to her lips, hands placed on her waist, keeping her close. For a few seconds they allowed themselves to get lost in the kiss, communicating the emotions their bodies have been taken up by for the past days, their every longing, the pain of missing one another too damn much.

“Let’s go, I don’t want to be late.”

……

Hours later (y/n) found herself sitting in Baby’s comfortable seat, hand placed on Dean’s thigh, eyes focused on the rising sun. For the past hours Dean had driven them closer and closer to this very place, the beach (y/n) had been longing for. It had taken her a while to understand where he was taking her, and yet she still couldn’t believe that this was real, that he had actually taken her longings to heart.

“I love you, Dean.” A few tears welled up in her eyes, a sight that left Dean grinning, pulling her in for a slow kiss. She didn’t interrupt the sweet gesture, not as she rose from her seat, not as she allowed Dean to pull her into his lap. It didn’t take long for the kiss to grow rather heated, tongues meeting, teeth clashing, hands tugging.

The fire his mere touch managed to alight inside of her even managed to distract (y/n) from the beautiful sunrise, back turned towards the shore. Her hands found the hemline of his shirt, tugging on the worn out fabric in a desperate attempt to free Dean from the layers of clothing keeping them separated.

“Backseat, I want you to be comfortable.” Dean’s murmurs rumbled through Baby, begging (y/n) to let go for just a few moments, wordlessly crawling back with Dean following moments later. She watched him pull his shirt over his head, exposing the skin she had been longing for, greedily moving her hands up and down his chest. “My pretty girl, fuck, how I missed you. One day it’ll be just us two, I'll love you in the sunshine, lay you down in the warm, white sand, and who knows maybe this time, things will turn out just the way you planned.”

With a smile thrown his way, (y/n) couldn’t help but marvel at her boyfriend, the handsome man her heart had always been aching for. Only the hurried movements of Dean’s fingers managed to rip her out of her thoughts, freeing her from her jeans, with her panties soon following. He longed to fully undress her, and yet it wasn’t a risk he was willing to take, not when somebody could walk past the car any moment. She was his to admire, his to love, certainly not somebody he’d ever willingly share.

“Dean,” she whimpered his name, needing to feel him buried deep inside of her, not caring about any teasing, any foreplay that would keep him away from her any longer. Her body was aching for his touch, folds covered with her arousal, a sight that left his cock twitching �� he could cum right there and then, Dean was sure of it. Within a few moments he had freed his cock, hand wrapped around him as he brushed the tip through her folds, lubing himself with her arousal.

Their eyes connected as Dean pushed into her, slowly, taking a few moments to adjust to the sensation that left both moaning in unison. For a second neither of them dared to move, relishing in the familiar closeness, the beautiful feeling they were desperate for whenever they were away from one another. Only as (y/n) choked on his name, fingernails clawing at his neck, did Dean dare to move, quickly building a fast pace.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, feels heavily, fucking heavily.” His praises rumbled through Baby, echoing off the four sides that felt like home to the two of them. (Y/n) couldn’t reply, at least not verbally, could only moan and whimper whenever he hit her swollen spot. Dean’s eyes were focused on her pleasure-drunken features, the eyes that had rolled back into her head, the teeth that were drawing blood from her lower lip, a sight so beautiful Dean could only hope he’d eventually take this memory to the grave.

Their bodies met over and over again, hands searching one another’s closeness, limbs trembling, very well aware of their way too quickly arising highs. Dean was set on fucking her into oblivion, set on making her forget her own name, just for the sweetest high they were oh so close to. Her walls fluttered around him, begging him to finally push her over the edge as one of her hands found her heat, rubbing her pulsing bundle of nerves.

(Y/n) called out his name as she came, head pushed off the seat to find his lips, swallowing the deep groans rumbling through Dean. He fucked her through her high, prolonging her orgasm as he chased his own, only letting go of her seconds before he came. With a deep exhale Dean came on her lower stomach, painting her skin white – a moment she had been dreaming of for nights on end, a moment that felt more intimate than any others.

“I love you, so fucking much, Dean Winchester.” With a laugh clawing through Dean, he kissed her one last time before he reached for a tissue, carefully cleaning up. He murmured the loving three words right back at her, eyes finding their way to the red painted ocean and the burning sky.

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester x reader #Dean Winchester imagine #supernatural smut

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atxxzist · 9 months ago

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sweetest lies | c.s (03)

prev // next // series m.list

pairing: choi san x f!reader

word count: 7.7k

warning: none but lmk

you didn't want to go home because you knew that you'd have to face your sister.

look her in the eyes and see those very lips that yunho kissed and those hands that he probably held on more than one occasions, the wound still too fresh that it all still hurts.

but you didn't think you'd run smack into her before you could even pass the entrance, stopping in your steps immediately with surprised eyes similar to hers, the both of you swallowing down the same time as the air turn an awkward one.

you're about to just walk past her, the day from work leaving you tired and not in the mood for another long conversation about the topic, when your sister musters up the courage to let out a soft, "can we please talk?"

the tone aggravating you more than anything; how she can still sound so sweet and worried after what she's put you through.

you huff and merely roll your eyes, absolutely refusing to look at her although you know it's silly and petty--you being the older one but holding a grudge like no other, so much more less mature than her.

"i don't know what else is there to talk about," you respond, trying your very best to sound annoyed.

but she continues to make you feel worse with an even sweeter tone, "i'm sorry. i really am." and you can already picture the pearls in her eyes and pout on her lips despite still facing the other way.

"i know you like yunho. i do. but..." he's too handsome and charming; too sweet and kind that she also can't help but fall for him. she would never intend to steal him from you if he didn't return the sentiment.

"but he likes you too," you finish for her, something shifting in you that makes you finally look her in the eyes. "i get it. what am i gonna do? you're two grown consenting adults so i'll get over it."

you didn't even think such words could ever come out your mouth, but for the first time sounding surprisingly selfless because maybe talking to san did helped out a little.

there's a silence after that you're sure has marked the end of the topic, striving a step forward when her voice stops you again.

"we're planning on telling mom and dad and yunho's parents over dinner..." she says, delivery timid like she's just the slightest scared of your reaction.

you gulp down the knot, mumbling a dry, "good luck with that." and sliding past her.

you start seeing how truly mundane your life is once the person it used to revolve around is no longer there.

how, it’s a continuous cycle of work and coming home to a big empty house most days and watching reruns of shows until you’re bored out of your mind.

which is how you wind up at a co-worker’s house party, the young woman from the office next to you going by the name of dahyun kindly asking after a conversation with your boss about the paperworks regarding the transfer.

she joined the firm a few months after you but you’ve always known her to be outgoing and a people’s person, recalling the girl’s familiarity with everyone from the floor her second week of work.

it wasn’t like you had anything better to do, so you accepted the invitation and saved the following day for a night of fun, or at least you hoped so.

dahyun had said it’s just gonna be a regular house party; none of that crazy frat bullshit with the chance of someone under 20 attending, so it’s just gonna be chill and relaxing.

fives minutes into your arrival and it’s not too bad but you already find yourself hiding in a corner despite recognizing a few faces from the same working floor.

“if you’re gonna be here, you should at least try and have some fun.”

the familiar sounding voice from behind makes you quirk a brow, barely looking over your shoulder to see, probably the least expected person standing with amusement in his expression.

“seonghwa?” you say in disbelief, your body naturally following your curiosity to stand before him. “the fuck you doing here?”

“attending the party, isn’t that obvious?” he quips, continuing to close the gap before stopping with just enough space.

you scoff and roll your eyes, the sight bringing a smirk onto seonghwa’s lips.

“shut up. you know what i mean.”

“dahyun’s a friend,” he says casually, the answer making you squint.

“seriously? hongjoong and now you?” the complaint rolling off like it’s seonghwa’s fault. you can only cross your arms and sulk.

you can’t even recall the last time you actually saw seonghwa. it must’ve been your graduation or one last coincidental meeting… you don’t remember. it’s been that long.

“yeah, cause you have better things to do?” he pokes fun at the very obvious fact you came alone. “where’s that jeong boy? you know, the one that always got you on a leash.”

between hongjoong and seonghwa, seonghwa’s always been the more calm and level-headed of the two; being the voice of reason when you and hongjoong would lose it.

but on the occasion when he’d just let it go and be snarky, seonghwa could really pull a nerve.

“is that all people associate me with?” you have the audacity to click your tongue in annoyance and scoff like you didn’t do it to yourself.

seonghwa snickers.

“oh i’m sorry. it was just my most recent memory of you,” he says cheekily. voice calm but you know there’s hidden animosity underneath.

he never explicitly said whose side he took, but it was obvious from how he treated you the same as hongjoong did. it only made sense because they’ve known each other before you even came along.

you never fault him, knowing it mostly had to do with your own fuck-ups.

“hmm,” you hum, tone setting into the same sarcastic and dry one he has. “well, it’s nice catching up and all but i don't feel like reminiscing the past, so if you’ll excuse me.”

because you can admit your wrongdoings and also be both embarrassed about it, attempting to brush past him when his speaking voice stops you in track.

“hey, i was just trying to find something to talk about after all these years,” he says, half chuckling and staring at you from the opposite side now that you’ve managed to make it past him.

you snicker lowly.

“what?” you quirk a corner of your lips, continuing with amusement in your voice, “then you’re gonna say sorry? or expect me to?”

he shrugs.

"that's your choice."

but his body language now shifting, that playful look no longer in his eyes or tone, it's almost scary how fast it happened.

the next few seconds is a silent stare off, the only sound is the party music in the background and the slight beating of your heart at the ominous delivery.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying... your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

seonghwa thinks you have too much pride; the same thing you believe to be keeping you intact is gonna be your ultimate downfall because even when you're clearly wrong or you know you're wrong, you never say it.

you're one to keep it bubbled inside and carry the guilt just because you think you should be unbreakable at all times. it's such an unrealistic standard you've set for yourself.

you raise a brow at that, tilting your head in confusion.

"i know how to say sorry," you tell him sternly, attempting to convince him as much as you are to yourself.

“i’m uhm… i’m sorry,” you utter lowly, sounding and appearing ashamed by the way your fingers fiddle with each other at your front, san almost can’t believe it.

“pardon?”

“i’m sorry, about this morning.”

it's beyond comprehension how san must've been the first person you've genuinely apologized to after going so many years of the word kept to yourself.

it must've been the absolute humiliation and loneliness that day that really got to you, breaking you down until you were so vulnerable with nothing but the choice to fold in front of the one person you felt you could still confide in.

san being that person is also beyond what you can explain.

but seonghwa only merely puffs and crosses his arms.

"i just think it would be great if we could be friends again one day," he says, the ominous dropping and voice turning soft and reminiscing again that it makes your eyes go wide before you see a smile turn up on his lips.

"if you ever want to reach out to me or hongjoong again, you know how to find us."

he leaves his last words of the night opened and vague, disappearing off with one last smile before he's out of your sight, leaving you with much to think about--just exactly as he intended.

there's only so much excuses to make or places to be after work just because you don't want to be there for dinner, knowing it's the day both yunho and your sister are gonna tell your parents and his the good news.

know that they're all gonna react with surprise and be so happy for them, erupting in cheers and congratulatory words that the two children they've been rooting for the longest time has finally gotten together.

there really isn't a lot, that you just sucked it up and stayed the few extra hours overtime to make up for all the instances you've slacked off, even starting on work saved for the following day, hoping it's long enough to just miss the dinner.

and just enough it is, you return right as the table's just about to be cleared, the chitters and chatters around loud enough to drown the opening and shutting of the front door with yunho the only one catching your presence standing in the hall.

"they were really happy, yeah..." he says awkwardly, standing before you in the cold chilly air of the backyard.

you really didn't want to talk about it anymore, the subject like beating a dead horse at this point. but yunho had approached you so cautiously and calmly, something genuine in his action that you couldn't say no when he asked to talk for one last time.

"hmm," you merely hum, really not made for comforting or encouraging. most of the anger already dissipated although the hurt's still there, you can't bring yourself to not feel even the slightest happy for him, even if the smallest percentage because you saw the biggest smile ever on him back at dinner.

you contemplate on what to say because yes, you're still hurt and feeling betrayed, but it's not like you can hold it over his head forever. he isn't some stranger you can easily avoid.

he's yunho and you're just gonna have to get over it; not just for his sake but also for yours just so you can feel a little more at peace and move on.

"i'm sorry," he suddenly let out, your head snapping from the ground and to his guilt-ridden eyes.

because though he still stands by what he said, not a single word a lie, the few days apart also allowed him to think outside of the box--especially from your perspective.

how selfish he really was from the start, playing along when he was being dishonest the entire time, and how much pain he could've saved everyone if he hadn't been such a coward.

if he hadn't wanted the best of both worlds and knew he would lose you in some way if you found out how he actually feels.

you have to blink a few times, feeling like a lost puppy under yunho's apologetic gaze because you honestly believe that in comparison, you have so much more to be sorry for.

and as if he could read your mind; your expression speaking for itself because you have a certain look of bafflement or aloofness whenever you feel guilty.

you won't ever say outright that you're wrong, but your body language always gave it out.

it was one of the very first traits he picked up from being around you, having seen it for himself at the starting age of twelve when you pushed a much younger san to his injury and cried--not because you got yelled at by your parents but because you felt bad.

and how distracted you were at the movies the entire time after your fight with hongjoong because you confessed to yunho a few days later that you were being a shitty friend.

you have such a way of dealing with your emotions, he wishes for there to be an outlet for you to deal with them in a healthy and accepting manner.

one that doesn't depend on him or anything else for all the wrong reasons.

"i'm sorry," he says again, eyes now softer but still sincere. "i know i already said this last time but i really got carried away and couldn't finish. but i truly am sorry. i should've told you sooner. i should've never given you any sort of false hope, and i should've just been honest from the start."

he's sure he's out of breath when he finishes, just waiting for you to now say something in return because despite all the ups and downs and shortcomings, you're the one who's been with him through most of his lowest points and he's so grateful for that.

he wouldn't want to lose you over this.

you stay quiet for a few seconds more, a mental battle in your head just so you'll be able to form something coherent when you do speak.

"we both just weren't right for each other," you say, pausing briefly, "in that way... at least."

because yunho hid things from you and you were so in your head you were convinced he was in love with you at one point, always looking at everything through a rose-coloured glass but now able to see for yourself once it cracked, just how destined it was to fail from the start.

"sorry," he mumbles, low and head still hanging in shame, you can't help the dry chuckle that falls from your lips.

"you don't have to keep telling me you're sorry. like what i told minjeong: i'll get over it."

he picks his head up from the more cheery tone, the smallest smile forming on your lips that takes him by surprise because of the illusion it gives off; that you were able to come to terms with it so fast, but he knows you and knows it's all just a facade.

nonetheless, he nods, gulping silently to pass a comment.

"i hope you're taking care of yourself."

you smile, turning your back on him and crossing your arms to stare up into the stars in the nightsky who's currently the witness to the end of your 'relationship' with the boy you've loved your whole life.

"i've considered transferring work. it's not set in stone yet, but i did talked to my boss and he said he'd help me look for an opening if i'm interested."

you think it will be good if you can seek your own independence for once, unable to think of a better time than this one.

and though you can't see yunho, you can tell he's intrigued by how his question squeaks slightly when asking.

"where would you be transferring?"

"japan," you answer, once again facing him. "it's different, but close enough where i don't have to feel like i'm halfway across the world. my boss said i have about two months-ish to make up my mind."

plus, japanese is the only other language you're fluent in. the country a similar but new enough experience and the true testimony to how you'll be, away from the grasp of your parents.

"i see," yunho replies, nodding in understanding; so much to say but at the same time unable to say anything. he wouldn't ever want to hear someone he's close to plans on moving away, but he's almost proud of you for taking that next step.

"feel free to call me up any time if you need help," he adds, a soft smile gracing his features that makes the moment so bittersweet. you wish you have the guts to hate yunho, but you really can't after all he's done for you.

you nod lightly, at the same time allowing yourself to enjoy the breeze and calm silence before letting all your guards down.

"yunho..." you call his name almost timidly, the boy responding that immediate second.

"i'm not asking for an apology or whatever. frankly, it wasn't even my problem, but i'm just saying… your life would be a lot easier if you know how to say sorry for once."

"i'm sorry," you finally tell him, to wide and surprised eyes--unsurprisingly.

"i'm sorry for putting so much pressure and baggage on you. i also should've asked about your feelings from the very beginning. i shouldn't have just... assumed."

yunho knows it's the sincerest form of apology without the need to say a lot. from the nervous timbre to the guilt in your eyes, and even the way you start fiddling with your fingers.

he only snickers, much to your initial mixed reaction until you start warming up to it as well, the low but very real giggle leaving you putting a smile on yunho's face.

"apology accepted," he says.

you allow another giggle before cutting it short and looking at him through your blinking lashes.

"if you guys have went to this extent, then i hope you'll treat her right, jeong yunho."

you leave the night at that, a sting in your chest but you know that soon enough, you'll be relieved of it and you won't even think about him anymore.

it's after sitting down for a few minutes that you get a text from san, the funny coincidence that you were just talking about the transfer with your boss as well.

san: yunho told me

san: it's true you're gonna be leaving for japan?

you honestly can't recall how san even got your number. it must've been something you did drunkenly or he must've asked for it from yunho. but for sure, you did not give it to him willingly.

y/n: he really be snitching, huh

san: so it's true ☹️

you roll your eyes and try preventing even the smallest smirk. you haven't seen the man ever since that day and now is when he decides to reach out again.

y/n: maybe 🤷

san: 😔

san: just when we were starting to get along too

y/n: lol. you'll be fine.

shaking your head, you put your phone down to return to work, thinking to yourself there's no way san's actually serious because you're sure even if you did move halfway across the world, he would barely notice you're gone.

ten minutes of silence from your phone and you're also sure he's given up on the act--when your notification buzzes again.

san: ☹️ thought you weren't gonna run away

y/n: i'm not

y/n: i just want to do something different

san: if you say so

san: you free this evening?

y/n: i get off work in about 3 hours

san: wanna do something? 🙂

y/n: well aren't you a changed man 🙃

san: i thought it was nice the other day and i just figured you might need a distraction

you have to admit the fact you were taken aback a little; in a surprisingly good and touching way that san would care about you so much as to consider the after effect of what have happened.

y/n: if you're up for it 🤷 not like i have anything better after work

san: awesome! i'll see you then 😉

it's not everyday that you go waltzing into a guy's place; if at all, actually, because you've ever only graced the presence of the house next door because unlike san, yunho never had the urge to get his own place or be away from the watchful eyes of his parents.

it only takes two knocks in total for the door to come apart with san standing before it, a smile on his face and every body language welcoming.

"that was fast," you comment, walking past him to get inside.

"i was waiting," he says, calm and relaxed. "you took a lot longer than you said you would."

you shrug and plop yourself down on the couch, head snapping his way to reply.

"i had to get out of my work outfit."

he acknowledges it with a nod before seating himself next to you, his phone sitting on the coffee table in front of you gone unnoticed until you see him pick it up.

"what to order?" he scrolls through the delivery app, the same time you quirk a brow.

"stew sounds really good right now," you say.

"soft tofu stew?"

"that's fine. but make it spicy."

you weren't sure what you guys were gonna be doing once you came over, but he had just said to hang out and you thought any form of entertainment was better than none.

"any drinks?" he asks, after placing the order and getting up to walk over to the fridge.

"got any sodas?"

"i got some coke."

"that'll do."

he returns with two bottles, setting it on the table with a smirk stickered on his face, you have to reframe from rolling your eyes.

"what? no alcohol tonight?" he teases, his back falling onto the couch with hands behind his head.

"not in the mood," you reply, straight and simple.

"fair enough," he mumbles.

you let your eyes wander for a few more seconds before asking, "so, what's the plan?"

he gets up to sit straight and look you in the eyes.

"i was thinking a movie, video games, or we can just talk over food."

you hum with straighten lips, nodding and making yourself at home when it's your turn to fall back on the couch.

"anything's fine," you tell him, patting at the material under you and adding, "great couch by the way."

"yeah. it cost a fortune."

"good thing that wasn't a problem," you jab lightheartedly, because you always have wondered what the hell san does all day, besides the very obvious fact that he lives off the wealth of his parents and doesn't have to worry about anything when it comes to money... at least.

"i know what you're thinking," he says, not reactive of any kind.

"no but seriously, what do you do all day?" you ask, genuinely curious and interested this time.

he just quirks his lips, responding in the most lax tone, "enjoying life and doing what anyone in their 20s would?"

you scoff and shake your head.

you really do wish to be as untroubled and carefree as san is. the way he deals with and confronts everything as if there isn't a single thing to lose.

“it definitely bothered me at first, but i didn’t see why i should be losing sleep over it. me and yunho are two very different people after all who does our own things. i’m proud of what he’s achieved so far, and he’s always had my back when needed.”

you almost can't help but to have the tiniest respect for him in that regard.

"good to know." you giggle. "but what's the plan after?"

"working on it. but not really in the hurry to rush it or anything."

you nod courtly at that, another sinking thought about how similar, yet different the two of you really are.

growing up, you've never really paid much attention to san, always writing him off as annoying and obnoxious, but when left with no choice but to face him on a deeper level, you can't help but to notice the stark differences despite relating to him more than yunho.

"and you... are you really moving? like forreal?" he says, tone a soft worried that you almost want to believe he would be sad about you leaving... being this adamant and all.

"yeah," you answer, the disappointment befalling his expression completely flying over your radar. "forreal."

"but why?" he pushes.

you shrug, everything about you relaxed--as opposed to the boy standing across as he tries to digest the very big possibility of you going away, and most likely for a long time.

"i told you i wanted to travel."

"that's moving to a whole different country," he states the obvious, much to a laughter from you as the uneasiness on him only becomes more transparent.

you laugh some more, going on to say, "don't tell me you're actually gonna be sad?" your lips forming a frown after to tease him, and for the very first time, you think san might've blushed a little.

he opens his mouth as you watch curiously, but the moment shortly disrupted by the sound of san's phone going off.

"delivery will be here in 10 minutes," he tells you still holding the device in his hand before he tosses it aside.

"i also just want to try being on my own for a while," you bring the topic back into discussion when it seems like he isn't gonna answer the question.

you add, "if i do get moved, it will be on my own accord and everything will be from my own pockets... not my parents or anyone else. boss said i have about two months and i most likely will have to train the replacement but i think it's all gonna be worth it."

you're unable to read into san's reaction, silence filling the air until he finally speaks again.

"if you want to learn to be on your own, why don't you just get a place first? you know, instead of moving across the country. as someone in the current position, it's pretty nice if i say so myself."

your lips draw into a thin line, not because he's wrong but because you've never actually thought of that. you pretty much did just jumped ship into the next big step.

"i've uh... i didn't think of that," you mumble, the words cracking a smile on san's face before a snicker rolls out.

"jesus, y/n. a bit dramatic aren't you?"

"shut up," you hiss.

as the night goes on, any doubts and worries are long forgotten when the chatters with san would go on even after the food's arrival, both chewing and talking at the same time like you're never gonna run out of topics.

the eating soon turns into a search for something to watch while the two of you squabble about anything and everything, forgetting what the hell you're even fighting him about and being surprised you could even get this worked up without the help of alcohol.

and after you're both finally worn out from the long night; the foods on the coffee table now empty and dry and the tv running for far too long, you help clean the place up when it seems he's fallen asleep and quietly make your way out of the condo shortly after.

tuesday 4:32 p.m.

san: how about this one? looks really nice and is kind of close to my place 🙂

san: *attachment*

y/n: that looks way too fancy and expensive

y/n: i just want something that's enough for one person

it's impressive; the fact san even entertained the idea of leaving everything you've already got in mind to settle for something else, but even more so that you're even considering it.

getting a place of your own and learning to live on yourself would be a lot more doable than moving across the sea and away from everyone and everything you've grown up with.

you suppose it's not a bad idea. you're just not sure if it's the right one.

san: you're not gonna find anything if you're gonna be this picky 🙄

y/n: i'm just looking

y/n: if i'm really gonna stay, i'd do the search myself

san: 😢

you don't even realize how san starts weaving into your daily life and just integrating himself into it; whether through small, mindless texts, or bigger ones like actually inviting you out or over to his place (more frequently, at least).

wednesday 1:20 p.m.

san: what time do you finish work today

y/n: i always finish at 6

san: wanna come over? i got a game we can play 🙂

y/n: it better not that stupid truth or dare

san: ☹️

san: it's not

san: it's truth or dare spin the bottle

y/n: 🥱

san won't admit how fast he came at the sound of the first knock, and you also won't admit that despite him looking very much the same, there's something different about him lately.

something you can't pinpoint but it's almost as if he's gotten more attractive somehow even though you've never really cared about any of that.

"did you wear that to work?" he comments on your outfit as you make way past him and settling inside.

"yes," you answer dryly, tone soon overturning. "what? you think i was gonna get pretty?" you smirk.

he shrugs, mumbling a "maybe" that you quietly let pass to take off your shoes.

"wanna see a few places i've looked up?" he beams, going over to the laptop that was on the kitchen counter and running over to you on the couch with it.

"why not," you mumble, scooting closer, shoulder bumping into his nonchalantly.

you watch him scroll through the abundance of luxurious condos alike his, opting to raise your brow and turn to him.

"why are they all high-profile and in gangnam?" you question.

"pfft," he scoffs, facing you head on, standing the closest he's ever been to you in a long while and remarking, "it's not like you can't afford it. come on, y/n."

"i can't." you move away from him. "if i even get a place, it's gonna be with my own savings, not my parents. i definitely can't afford a place like these. can we please look at something a little less flashy?"

he shakes his head and eventually changes the area, but an hour into the search and you're still not satisfied. the prices are either not doable or the layouts and amenities aren't to your heart's content.

"let's continue this another day," you sigh out, throwing your head back and groaning as san chuckles.

"fine," he gives in, shutting the laptop and moving it out of sight. "you're so picky."

"well you got to be. i'm sure you didn't pick this place out in a day," you say at the same time you look around.

on your own, there's no way you'd ever be able to get anything like this.

"and you don't think it's nice?"

"are you kidding?" you say in disbelief. "it's amazing. if i had the money, it might as well be my dream place. but it's okay. i can also settle for much less as long as it accommodates all my needs."

san can't help but laugh, because he thinks you're both the snazziest person he's ever met, but also the most tame, it's a bit uncharacteristic of someone who grew up wealthy all her life.

"fair enough," he says, standing up abruptly to go grab at an empty beer bottle also on the counter which you're sure he most likely prepared for, given his next set of words.

"how about spin the bottle but no dares. we can only ask questions and the person has to answer truthfully." he places it on the coffee table.

you snap to him at that with something uneasy in your eyes, prompting a comment from him.

"you scared?" he tease.

"what? no," you blow.

"then what are we waiting for?" san doesn't hesitate with one of his hands already on the bottle but you have to stop him in the process to ask one more question.

"what kind of questions though?"

it takes him maybe a second for a light smirk to crawl out of him and with a shrug, telling you, "any."

you eye the bottle on the table anxiously as it circles and clinks; not afraid of the idea of the game but more so that you're playing with san and he's gonna ask the wildest shit.

fortunately, san shoots himself in the foot.

"oh fuck, it's me."

it's your turn to smirk, letting out an almost sarcastic, "yeah."

"knock yourself out. i'm an open book."

you roll your eyes because you know he is, which is why trying to come up with something that will even faze him is gonna be a challenge.

"most embarrassing thing you have done at a party?"

he scoffs it off in amusement, like he can't believe you're even asking that.

"i thought you could do worse, y/n. but sure."

he hesitates and hums for a few seconds more before answering, "got high as fuck and almost kissed wooyoung."

a dry snicker actually escapes from your lips at the confession.

"yeah i always suspected you guys had a thing for each other."

"please don't," he says in pure disgust. "i love wooyoung forreal but no amount of high can get me to kiss the man."

you laugh, now actually the one to initiate the spin because you think it can turn out fun. you think.

and thankfully, it's not you that have to answer a question, again.

"wow," san only silently curses the double misfortunate.

"how many people have you slept with?" you blurt, bold and straightforward, san even slightly taken aback.

"don't ask questions that will break your heart."

"tsk." you roll your eyes. "you could sleep with the entire population of earth and i wouldn't give a shit."

"not even the tiniest bit?" he plays on in that voice you hate because it's always when he's trying to flirt with you.

"i'd give the tiniest shit about everyone else because poor them."

"sharp," he retracts, the amusement all over his face. "but to answer your question, maybe eight? ten? to be honest, i've lost count."

"good to know," you reply nonchalantly, nodding for him to spin the bottle this time, but you know it's only so long before your luck eventually runs out, and so it does.

"ha," he says in victory, the top of the bottle pointing at you.

"i'll go easy, don't worry just yet," he teases annoyingly, you almost want to knock your foot into his.

"what did you think of me when we first met?"

you quirk your lips and pretend to think although you already know the answer.

"well, i thought you were gonna be sweet, but that was until i got to actually know you. then you were just annoying and a pervert."

he bursts out in genuine laughter and yeah, you think he's cute and endearing like this but 95% of the time, he's getting on your nerves.

the game continues on with a back and forth of innocent enough questions; just laughing and scoffing off the ridiculousness, and you're starting to think he might spare you, until the next one turns your eyes a dark one.

"what is it about yunho that made you like him so much?"

and again, you've already stated so many times why you like him. his kindness. his attitude. the way he presents himself. the way he treats you. but if you have to pick one.

"it just seems as if he accepted me for who i am. i don't know."

the way the atmosphere shifts is scary; both of the smiles on your lips wiped and replaced by unreadable expressions as san quiets without a reply, you have to be the one to speak again.

"and you... w-why are you helping me?" you ask him.

"huh?" he repeats just so there's no mistake.

"we don't even like each other and i pretty much treat you like shit but you still seem rather concerned about my wellbeing for whatever reason."

it has gotten so silent by now, you can hear san swallowing.

"you're the one who always says you don't like me. i never said i don't like you."

it's your turn to swallow, staring back at him with nervous eyes because you're not sure how to take the statement just now or what exactly he really means.

"i just thought the feeling was mutual," you mumble, shrugging lightly.

"no. i think you just didn't care enough to ask me," he says with a dry chuckle because he's right and even you know it. your mind at the time too occupied with his brother instead.

"so like, you really don't want me to leave?" you take the opportunity to tease him, a tone on you almost unrecognizable that you think even made san a bit nervous and shy.

"you could say that," he talks lowly, on the verge of stuttering. "i've known you almost my whole life."

"and if i did?" you ask, voice turning a more serious one as the words make an etch in san's heart. it hurts to even think of the possibility.

"then i would be really upset."

you watch his eyes and lips go soft, something so genuine and sincere in his response that makes you just freeze up before breaking the tension with a forced snicker.

"you still have some time to change my mind," you encourage, because you wish for there to be bigger reasons to stay so you won't regret the could of, even if san has to be that reason.

some might call it healing, some might call it a rebound if that even applies at all, but san successfully weaves himself into your life like a routine that you're no longer fazed by a morning text or even a goodnight one.

the way he'd just check up on you during work or call during the weekends to ask how you're doing and if you're up for something together.

it's a bit pathetic he's pretty much your only friend (and even that's a reach) at this point, but you genuinely enjoy his company.

he listens well, is fun to be around, and is almost like a life-long friend who's been missing your whole life.

but while those are the ups of being with san, there's also the downs--such as the long list of girls that'd constantly ring his phone or send him a text while the two of you are together, and while that isn't any of your business, that doesn't stop the few doubts that manages to plague your mind.

are you interrupting anything? does it make you a bitch for hanging with him when he has other girls lined up? does all of this even mean anything when you could very much just be one of them?

that maybe even if there's a possibility, you could never fully give and commit yourself to someone like san because it doesn't seem like he's ready to settle for anyone.

he haven't ever had a relationship that lasted more than a few months and you haven't ever known him to have less than two option on the table.

which might be why you were so much more attracted to yunho, because in comparison, yunho seemed like he would give away his heart and soul for just you.

but you know that, though. you knew that's how san is. you shouldn't have expected anything else, but you still can't help but to feel a strange, unfamiliar sense of loathing when he's distracted by another girl.

"i talked to the landlord a few days ago and she said if i wanted to see the apartment for myself, she would be more than happy to show me," you tell san over a late night eat out; the restaurant about to close in an hour but you're sure he's not listening because his head snaps to the text he got just now.

he still attempts to sound like it's the current topic holding his attention, which you have to give him credits for.

"that's good," he shortly says, fingers fast to type something on his phone before pushing it away. "so how many more days left again?"

"about two weeks, give or take," you respond, poking at your fries with the fork.

two weeks before you'll have to make the ultimate choice to leave or stay.

it's been that long, time just flying before your very eyes to the point where yunho's presence lingering around the house for the sole purpose of your sister almost no longer does an effect to you.

"wow. already?"

"yeah."

san offers to pay for the meal and drive you home instead of the usual catching a movie at his place before the actual end of the night and it's not like you're gonna fight him on it.

he's not your boyfriend and he definitely doesn't have any obligations to follow through any routines or whatever, so why are you all of a sudden feeling so tense about it?

tense and bitter about the fact that after he drives you home, there's a likely chance there's gonna be another girl at his place.

you think you're losing it.

you had let yourself indulge more and more into the possibility of staying, which was how you found the place that you could practically call ideal.

though it's only one bedroom, the modern but warm-toned style of the complex as a whole, as well as the location and pretty much everything else is convenient and accommodates all your needs.

when you had finally set a time and meeting with the landlord, you fell in love even harder in person because the second she opened the door to the place, it was like you knew this is it.

you think it can work out. you think you can see a future in this place; in this city still. and you have been much brighter and happier lately, even telling your boss the following day that there's a big chance you're gonna change your mind about the move given time is creeping up.

you had sent a text to san so excited because you want to tell him in person, every day the chance of you actually staying increasing by the second and he had told you he'd be available tomorrow night.

despite the conflicts swirling in your stomach a week ago, san had made up for it by being attentive as usual and making you feel like he really cares about you that the occasional rings and texts not from you were starting to become bearable.

after all, what does he owe you?

you're content with just having someone to talk and share your day with. you think you can live with that.

but you didn't expect nor think that all it'd take for the doubts to settle in again is to actually face the reality of your situation, making your way to san's place as promised and seeing a familiar face on the way in.

long hair and with a frame you've definitely seen before, it's hard to ignore the sensation she manages to conjure by just merely passing you.

“why don’t you ask the one person that would actually know where he is? or are you too good for that, too?”

you squint, confused, until he nods his head another direction and you follow, landing right into the view of the kitchen and to someone you know all too well just from the back.

his hands on some poor girl’s waist and lips running along with hers as her grip tightened at his disheveled hair, his body pressing her forward onto the counter, the both of them making out like there won’t be a tomorrow.

“no thanks,” you dismiss, managing to reframe from an eyeroll, pushing past hongjoong but not before you catch the smirk on him.

it wasn't the first time you saw her with san, because if it was, your body wouldn't have recognized her so easily as if she's a threat, replacing all the excitement and hope with nothing but old and plain insecurities.

then it's as if everything was a mistake.

choosing to stay because of san and with nothing but the hope that it will all work out... instead of going away on your own for some time and learning to really be independent.

your whole life, you've already been nothing but emotionally dependent on someone else, looking to them as a source of support, and you've realized that this time, it isn't any different.

you've just moved from yunho to san... and you didn't even like san for the longest time.

so how long before it will hit you that staying was a mistake; and especially that choosing to stay because of san was gonna be the biggest one of them all.

you have the tendency to catch feelings way too fast, and even if not romantic which you won't admit in this case (even if it might be), you react strongly to it and the feeling is consuming.

because how long before san will leave you the way yunho did?

everything may seem good for now but they will all meet the same ending. and to think of everything in perspective this way, you know you're not meant to stay.

your parents, yunho and your sister, san...

you don't feel ready for any of them currently, your life stuck at a point where you're not moving. and so you just turn back around and head home.

you think long and hard just to be sure this is what you want; then you think of how to tell your boss tomorrow, and about an hour later, you finally get a text from san.

san: you still coming? you said you have something to tell me

y/n: something came up sorry

y/n: i was just gonna tell you that i've made up my mind and i think i'm gonna go to japan

next // series m.list

taglist: @freeandrealme @shingene @cookiechristie @softie00 @crimson-mia @hexheathen @lixpixstix @atinytease @turtash @moonseonghwa @kkayfan @curryramyeon @justineasian @sannie-pudding @itsokaytobedumb00 @nerdy-kimchi @fannyxmh @acciocriativity @mel-the-mad-hatter @eastleighsblog @diorwoo @devilsmatches @kyume02 @distvrbia @wonwowzers @endeav0rsb1tch @sannwa @brown88 @sangiluvem @eburneon @hotteokhatyu @yeosangsbiceps @sankatchu @lynnsqueendom @harusoraa @ad0rechuu @interweab @revehosh @byunniebaekhyunnie @nabi-sannie @gugggu6gvai @rockstarsanie @shakalakaboomboo @yeosangsbbg @yawnzshit @avantalem @lelaleleb @mountiiny @arinyyy @svintsandghosts @yoongiworshiper @raineadlr @tunaasan @chickenscoups @nevieatiny

#y'all don't even know #the demons i fought #just to get 7k out of my ass #y/n got serious issues #but i hope y'all will still enjoy the drama #ateez angst #san x reader #choi san x reader #ateez x reader #ateez series #yunho x reader #fic: sweetestlies

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novaursa · 1 month ago

Text

Between Pride and Fire (the pride)

- Summary: It was a challenge of the hunt that drew the lion to you, but it was your fire that made him yours.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: the fire

- Next part: of fire and gold

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You sat near the window of your chambers, gazing out at the bustling streets of King’s Landing below, lost in thought. The royal hunt felt both like a distant memory and an event that lingered too vividly in your mind. The tension of the past week hadn’t helped, with Viserys’s occasional hints about a potential Lannister alliance only serving to fuel your unease.

“Gods, you’re moody these days,” Rhaenyra’s voice cut through the quiet, pulling you from your reverie.

You turned to see your sister entering the chamber, her silver hair catching the light as she sauntered toward you. She settled onto the bench beside you, her expression both curious and teasing. “What’s wrong with you?” she asked. “You’ve been brooding ever since we returned from the hunt.”

“I’m not brooding,” you replied sharply, though the edge in your voice betrayed you.

Rhaenyra smirked, her violet eyes narrowing as she studied you. “Oh, you are. You’ve been staring out that window as if your thoughts are a thousand miles away. Or,” her grin widened, “a thousand miles west.”

You stiffened, shooting her a glare. “Don’t start, Rhaenyra.”

“Start what?” she said innocently, though her teasing tone made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing. “I’m merely observing. It’s obvious, really. You must miss Lord Lannister.”

Your glare deepened, and you turned back to the window, hoping she would drop the subject. But Rhaenyra, being who she was, pressed on.

“I mean, he was rather persistent during the hunt,” she continued, her voice lilting with amusement. “And Father seemed delighted by it. Maybe he’s already planning your wedding. Imagine it—a grand ceremony at Casterly Rock. You, draped in gold and crimson, standing beside your insufferable lion—”

“Enough!” you snapped, turning to face her fully, your cheeks flushed. “Gods, you’re unbearable.”

Rhaenyra blinked, taken aback by the sharpness of your tone. But then her eyes narrowed with interest, a sly smile playing on her lips. “You’re not denying it,” she said softly, leaning closer. “Something happened, didn’t it?”

You hesitated, your heart pounding as you debated whether to tell her. But the memory of Jason’s smirk, his touch, his whispered words—it all bubbled to the surface, and before you could stop yourself, the truth slipped out.

“We were… together,” you admitted quietly, refusing to meet her eyes.

Rhaenyra stared at you, her mouth falling open as she processed your words. For a long moment, she said nothing, and you could feel her shock radiating off her.

“You—you what?” she finally managed, her voice rising in disbelief. “You slept with him?”

You winced, glancing toward the door to ensure it was closed. “Keep your voice down!” you hissed. “And yes. It happened. Once. During the hunt.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, still staring at you as though you’d grown a second head. “Gods above, you’re as reckless as Daemon.”

You scowled at the comparison. “I am nothing like Daemon.”

“You slept with a man outside of marriage,” Rhaenyra shot back, her tone sharp but tinged with disbelief. “And not just any man—a Lannister. That’s exactly the sort of thing Daemon would do.”

You opened your mouth to retort but faltered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. Rhaenyra leaned closer again, her initial shock giving way to something else—curiosity.

“Well?” she asked, her tone conspiratorial now. “How was it?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“How was it?” she repeated, her expression earnest. “Was it… enjoyable?”

Your face grew even hotter, and you turned away from her. “I am not discussing this with you.”

“Oh, come on!” Rhaenyra pressed, grinning now. “You’ve already admitted to it. You can’t leave me in suspense. Was he clumsy? Overeager? I’ve heard things about men like him.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re avoiding the question,” she countered, clearly enjoying herself. “You’ve experienced something I haven’t yet. Indulge me, sister. What was it like?”

You hesitated, torn between annoyance and the bond you shared with Rhaenyra. Finally, with a sigh, you relented. “He… knew what he was doing,” you admitted reluctantly. “He’s arrogant, but he’s also… skilled.”

Rhaenyra’s brows shot up, and she leaned forward eagerly. “Really?”

“Gods, don’t make me regret telling you,” you muttered, glaring at her.

She grinned, her curiosity clearly piqued. “I won’t. I promise. It’s just… I can’t believe it. You and Jason Lannister. Of all people.”

You shook your head, exasperated. “It was a mistake. One that I don’t intend to repeat.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying you. “Are you sure? Because it seems to me like he’s left quite the impression.”

You didn’t respond, turning back to the window as your thoughts drifted once again. Rhaenyra’s laughter echoed softly in the chamber, and though you tried to ignore her, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder if she was right.

Servants bustled about, and courtiers whispered in clusters, but the focus of attention was a large velvet-lined box that had just been delivered to you.

You stood before it, arms crossed, while your father, King Viserys, practically beamed with excitement. Rhaenyra lingered nearby, clearly intrigued but feigning disinterest, and Tyland Lannister stood stiffly to the side, his expression one of poorly concealed unease.

“Open it!” Viserys urged, gesturing toward the elaborate box. “Let’s see what Lord Jason has sent you.”

You sighed heavily, already dreading whatever awaited you inside. Jason’s penchant for grand gestures was nothing if not predictable, and you could only imagine the sort of monstrosity he had deemed appropriate. With a reluctant glance toward Rhaenyra, who smirked knowingly, you stepped forward and unlatched the lid.

Inside was a small statue, crafted with exquisite detail. It was a likeness of your dragon—a stunning creature of black scales with amber undertones, named Morrath. The statue was carved from dark obsidian, with golden inlays capturing the shimmer of Morrath’s unique coloring. The dragon’s eyes were tiny gems of polished amber, and its wings were spread as though mid-flight. It was objectively beautiful, but the arrogance behind the gesture soured any appreciation you might have felt.

Nestled beside the statue was a rolled parchment, sealed with the Lannister crest. You snatched it up and unrolled it, quickly scanning Jason’s bold, flowing script.

Princess,

This humble trinket is, of course, unworthy of capturing the majesty of both your dragon and yourself, but I trust it will serve as a reminder of the passion of your spirit and the flames you ignite in all who are fortunate enough to know you.

Speaking of fortunate, your esteemed father has hinted at a royal visit to Casterly Rock. I eagerly await news of when I might host you and your family in proper Lannister fashion. I shall spare no expense to ensure you are impressed—though I suspect you are not easily so.

Until then, I remain your devoted admirer,

Jason Lannister

You rolled your eyes and thrust the letter toward your father. “Hideous,” you declared, gesturing at the statue. “Send it back. I have no need for his trinkets or his flattery.”

Viserys, who had taken the letter eagerly, frowned in disappointment. “Now, now,” he chided, scanning Jason’s words with a smile. “This is a thoughtful gift. Lord Jason clearly went to great lengths to have it made.”

“Thoughtful?” you retorted, gesturing at the statue again. “It’s garish. And as for his words, they’re as self-satisfied as he is.”

Rhaenyra snorted softly, hiding her grin behind her hand, but Viserys ignored her. “I will not allow you to insult a gift so freely given. It would be rude to return it.”

“I think it would be a fitting response to such arrogance,” you muttered under your breath, though your father’s pointed glare silenced any further protests.

Viserys turned to Tyland, his face bright with enthusiasm. “Lord Tyland, you will deliver our reply to your brother personally.”

Tyland stiffened, clearly alarmed by the prospect. “Your Grace, I—”

Viserys waved a hand, cutting him off. “Tell Jason that we are grateful for his generosity and that he may prepare to host us within the month. I am eager to see Casterly Rock, and I’m sure my daughter is as well.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but Viserys raised a hand, his tone softening. “This is an important alliance, my dear. Jason is a lord of great standing, and his interest in you is a compliment to our family. Do not let your sharp tongue ruin what could be a prosperous match.”

You scowled, biting back your retort, while Tyland shifted uncomfortably. “Of course, Your Grace,” Tyland said stiffly, bowing. “I will ensure my brother receives your message.”

Viserys smiled broadly, clearly pleased. “Excellent. Jason will be thrilled.”

Rhaenyra leaned closer to you as Tyland exited the room, her voice low and laced with amusement. “A statue of Morrath? I must admit, Jason is persistent. Almost as persistent as you are annoyed.”

You shot her a glare, but she only grinned, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “I’ll break it before we leave,” you muttered.

Rhaenyra’s laughter rang out as Viserys clapped his hands, calling for preparations to begin for the royal visit. The statue of Morrath remained where it was, a silent reminder of Jason’s audacity—and of the inevitable chaos his presence would bring.

The towering silhouette of Casterly Rock loomed on the horizon, its banners flapping in the wind. Tyland Lannister approached the gates with a sense of mounting dread, his horse’s hooves echoing off the stone bridge that led to the castle’s entrance. The journey from King’s Landing had been long and uneventful, but the task awaiting him at the end was anything but.

By the time Tyland was escorted into the grand hall of Casterly Rock, his nerves were fraying. The gilded chamber was as ostentatious as ever, with tapestries depicting the triumphs of House Lannister lining the walls and gold-flecked columns gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the high windows. At the far end of the hall, Jason Lannister sat lounging on a high-backed chair, one leg draped casually over the armrest as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

Jason looked up as Tyland approached, a slow, knowing grin spreading across his face. “Brother,” he said, his voice rich with amusement. “What an unexpected surprise. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Tyland stopped before him, bowing briefly before straightening. “I come with a message from King Viserys.”

Jason’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Oh? And what might His Grace have to say?”

Tyland hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line. “The king and his family will be arriving in a few weeks for a royal visit. He expects Casterly Rock to be prepared to receive them.”

Jason’s eyes lit up, and he let out a low chuckle, clearly delighted. “A royal visit? How splendid. I trust the princess was pleased with my gift, then.”

Tyland’s expression tightened, but he said nothing, which only seemed to amuse Jason further.

“She hated it, didn’t she?” Jason guessed, his tone light and unbothered.

“She found it… garish,” Tyland admitted reluctantly. “She wanted to send it back, but the king forbade it.”

Jason laughed, the sound echoing through the hall. “Of course she did. That’s what I like about her—she doesn’t simper or fawn like the others. Still, it seems I’ve won Viserys over. That’s a start.”

Tyland sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Jason, this is not a game. The king’s visit is an honor, but it’s also a significant responsibility. You must ensure everything is perfect. This isn’t just about you—it’s about House Lannister.”

Jason waved a hand dismissively, already rising from his seat. “Relax, Tyland. I know what’s at stake. Casterly Rock will shine like the gold it was built upon. The king and his family will be dazzled.”

Tyland frowned, his unease deepening. “And the princess? What do you intend to do about her?”

Jason’s smirk returned, his eyes containing mischief. “What do you think, brother? I intend to win her over.”

Tyland groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Jason, you’re incorrigible. If this goes poorly—”

“It won’t,” Jason interrupted, his tone confident. “I’ll ensure it doesn’t. Besides,” he added with a grin, “I have a feeling she enjoys our little battles more than she lets on.”

Tyland shook his head, muttering under his breath. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Jason clapped him on the shoulder, his expression one of pure amusement. “Nonsense. You’ll thank me when this all works out. Now, let’s discuss preparations. I want Casterly Rock to be unforgettable.”

As Jason began outlining his grand plans, Tyland could only hope that his brother’s arrogance wouldn’t lead to disaster. The royal visit was bound to be eventful—whether for good or ill remained to be seen.

The soft breeze of the morning carried the scent of sea salt and the distant hum of King’s Landing’s bustling streets. You stood on the balcony of your chambers, the statue Jason had sent you cradled in your hands. Morrath’s likeness glimmered faintly in the sunlight, the obsidian and golden inlays catching the light in a way that was undeniably beautiful. Yet, as you stared at it, your fingers itched to let it fall.

It would make a satisfying crash, you thought, imagining the shards scattering across the stone courtyard below.

Jason’s letter had been infuriating, dripping with arrogance and self-satisfaction. His audacity to send such a grand gesture—a statue of your dragon, no less—felt less like a compliment and more like a challenge. The memory of his smirk, his touch, and his whispered words from the hunt still lingered too vividly in your mind, and the sight of the statue only made it worse.

You lifted it slightly, peering over the edge of the balcony. It would be so easy to let go.

But then your gaze caught on something small—a tiny detail on the statue’s base. Leaning closer, you saw that the base had been inscribed with a phrase in High Valyrian: "My fierce dragon, you are beautiful and strong."

Your grip tightened as you read the words, and to your annoyance, you felt a pang of regret. Jason might have been insufferable, but the inscription revealed a thoughtfulness you hadn’t expected. He had noticed your strength, your fire—things most lords dismissed or ignored.

You cursed under your breath, your earlier resolve crumbling as the faintest flicker of doubt and guilt crept in. Dropping the statue now felt… petty, even childish. With a frustrated sigh, you turned away from the balcony and carried the statue back into your chambers, setting it on a small table by the window.

“Foolish trinket,” you muttered, glaring at it as though it had personally offended you. Yet you couldn’t bring yourself to destroy it. For now, it would remain—much to your annoyance.

Meanwhile, Otto Hightower stood rigid before King Viserys, his expression measured but firm as he voiced his concerns. Alicent sat nearby, Prince Aegon playing quietly at her feet, though her attention remained fixed on the unfolding discussion.

“Your Grace,” Otto began, his tone carefully respectful, “I must implore you to reconsider this journey to Casterly Rock. The realm needs you here, especially with the situation in the Stepstones escalating. Reports indicate that the Triarchy is growing bolder. Your presence in the capital is essential.”

Viserys frowned, setting down the goblet of wine he had been nursing. “Otto, I’ve heard your concerns already. The council is more than capable of managing the Stepstones in my absence. Daemon is there, and he seems eager to prove himself. Let him handle it.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” Otto pressed, “Daemon’s methods are… unpredictable. And while the council can advise, they cannot command the same authority as their king.”

Viserys’s irritation was evident as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. “This is not just a journey, Otto. This is about fostering ties with one of the most powerful houses in Westeros. House Lannister has been a steadfast supporter of the crown, and Jason has shown genuine interest in my youngest daughter.”

Otto’s mouth tightened. “Your Grace, the Stepstones are a pressing matter. And while I understand the importance of alliances, surely there are other ways to secure House Lannister’s favor without uprooting the royal family.”

“Other ways?” Viserys’s voice rose slightly, his tone sharp. “Are you suggesting I abandon my daughter’s prospects for the sake of a conflict Daemon is already addressing?”

Alicent, sensing the growing tension, spoke up gently. “Your Grace, perhaps there is a compromise to be found. The conflict in the Stepstones is a matter of the realm’s stability, but so too is ensuring the future of your family. A brief visit to Casterly Rock might suffice.”

Viserys softened slightly at her words, though his irritation with Otto remained evident. “A brief visit, yes. But we will go, Otto. That is final.”

Otto inclined his head, though his jaw tightened. “As you say, Your Grace.”

Viserys sighed, gesturing for a servant to refill his goblet. “I know you mean well, Otto, but you have a tendency to focus on what you think is best for the realm without considering what is best for my family.”

Otto bowed again, though his expression was carefully neutral. “Your family is the realm, Your Grace.”

“Indeed,” Viserys replied, his tone weary but firm. “And I will ensure they are secure—both politically and personally.”

As the conversation concluded, Alicent reached for Aegon, lifting him into her lap. Her gaze lingered on Viserys, her expression thoughtful. She said nothing more, but the faint crease in her brow betrayed her concern.

Otto departed shortly after, his steps measured but brisk. Viserys remained in his chair, taking a long sip of wine as he gazed out the window. “A royal visit will do us good,” he muttered, as though convincing himself as much as anyone else.

Alicent, ever poised, simply nodded. “Of course, Your Grace.” But her quiet tone hinted at her own doubts.

The golden sun dipped low over the western horizon, casting shadows across the sprawling halls and courtyards of Casterly Rock. The scent of freshly laid flowers mingled with the salty sea air wafting in from the Sunset Sea. Servants bustled about, polishing gilded fixtures, arranging lavish tapestries, and ensuring every corner of the castle gleamed with perfection. The king and his family would arrive tomorrow, and Jason Lannister had spared no expense in preparing for their visit.

Jason stood in the grand dining hall, overseeing the final touches. The long, oak table, polished to a mirror-like sheen, was adorned with golden chargers, crimson and black silks, and elaborate floral arrangements in the Targaryen colors. He had even commissioned special candles laced with Valyrian fragrances to burn during the meal—a nod to his guests’ heritage. A harpist practiced softly in the corner, the music light and unobtrusive as Jason surveyed the scene.

“Impressive,” Tyland said, stepping into the room. His sharp eyes swept over the grand display before settling on his brother. “I didn’t think you had it in you to put this much thought into something.”

Jason smirked, folding his arms. “I’m full of surprises, brother. Besides, this is no ordinary visit. It’s the king and his family. You think I’d let them walk into anything less than perfection?”

Tyland raised a brow, his tone skeptical. “Perfection? You’ve outdone yourself. This is beyond what even the king would expect. I didn’t think you cared this much.”

Jason’s smirk deepened, his eyes gleaming with pride. “I care because this is about more than just the king. It’s about her.”

Tyland groaned softly, rubbing his temples. “Of course it is. I should’ve known.”

“Don’t look so dour,” Jason said, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “The king’s favor is important, yes, but winning her approval? That’s the real challenge. And you know I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.”

Tyland sighed, gesturing to the opulent display. “You think all this,” he said, waving a hand toward the gilded table and intricately arranged flowers, “is going to win her over? She’s not exactly the type to be dazzled by wealth and extravagance.”

Jason grinned, leaning against the table with an air of confidence. “You underestimate me, Tyland. This isn’t just about the gold and the silks. Every detail here is tailored—to impress her, yes, but also to show that I’m paying attention. The harpist will play Valyrian songs, the feast will feature her favorite dishes, and the wine? Straight from the Arbor, of course.”

Tyland stared at him, clearly taken aback. “You know her favorite dishes?”

Jason shrugged, his grin widening. “I asked around. People talk when you loosen their tongues with gold.”

“Gods,” Tyland muttered, shaking his head. “You’ve really gone all in on this, haven’t you?”

Jason straightened, his tone turning serious for a moment. “This isn’t just about me, Tyland. If this works—if I can secure her hand—do you realize what that means for House Lannister? A connection to the crown, to the Targaryens? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Tyland frowned, though he couldn’t entirely hide his reluctant admiration. “And if it doesn’t work? If she rejects you?”

Jason chuckled, his confidence unshaken. “Then I’ll have tried, and House Lannister will still have made an impression on the king. But she won’t reject me. Not after what we shared.”

Tyland winced, his discomfort evident. “Must you bring that up?”

Jason smirked, clearly enjoying his brother’s reaction. “Relax, Tyland. I’m a Lannister. We always pay our debts—and I intend to pay hers in full.”

Before Tyland could respond, a servant approached, bowing low. “My lord, the chambers for the royal family have been prepared. Shall I escort you for inspection?”

Jason nodded, straightening. “Yes, I want everything checked twice. Leave nothing to chance.”

As the servant scurried off, Jason turned back to Tyland. “Come. You’ll want to see this. I had their chambers decorated to honor their lineage—dragons, Valyrian motifs, the works. Even their baths will be infused with oils imported from Essos.”

Tyland followed reluctantly, muttering under his breath. “You’ve gone mad.”

Jason laughed as they strode through the halls, his voice echoing with unshakable confidence. “Mad? No, brother. Just determined. Now let’s make sure the princess has no choice but to notice.”

The brothers disappeared into the winding corridors of Casterly Rock, Jason’s voice fading into the distance as the final preparations for the royal visit continued. The Rock, for all its grandeur, had never felt so alive—and for Jason, tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.

The royal carriage creaked as it swayed along the winding road to Casterly Rock, its wheels crunching over gravel and stone. Inside, the air was stifling despite the open windows, the relentless summer sun bearing down on the royal procession. You sat in the corner of the carriage, fighting off a dull headache that throbbed behind your temples. The chatter of courtiers and the clatter of hooves outside did nothing to ease the ache, nor did the incessant enthusiasm of your father, King Viserys.

“This is a grand day,” Viserys declared, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Casterly Rock is a wonder of Westeros. To see it firsthand, to be hosted by Lord Jason himself—it’s a sign of great fortune.”

You rubbed your temples, biting back a groan as your headache intensified. Beside you, Alicent shifted uncomfortably, her pregnant form making it difficult for her to find a comfortable position. Her face was pale, and her movements sluggish as she balanced Prince Aegon in her lap, his small hands grasping at the embroidery on her gown.

“I’m sure it will be a fine visit, Your Grace,” Alicent said softly, her tone polite but weary. Her eyes briefly met yours, and you saw a flicker of shared exhaustion in her gaze.

Rhaenyra, sitting opposite you and your father, leaned forward slightly, her expression tempered but cautious. “Father,” she began, her tone measured, “perhaps we shouldn’t put too much stock in this visit. It’s a show of good faith, yes, but alliances of this nature can take time to build.”

Viserys waved a hand dismissively, a broad smile still plastered on his face. “Nonsense, Rhaenyra. Jason Lannister has already shown great interest in your sister. He sent her that fine statue of her dragon, didn’t he? A thoughtful gift, if I’ve ever seen one.”

You stiffened slightly at the mention of the statue, your headache flaring as the memory of Jason’s insufferable note came to mind. You hadn’t brought Morrath’s likeness with you, much to your father’s disappointment, though you doubted Jason would be offended.

“Thoughtful, perhaps,” Rhaenyra said carefully, her violet eyes darting toward you for a moment. “But that doesn’t mean we should expect too much. Lord Jason is… enthusiastic, but such things can be fleeting.”

Viserys frowned, his jovial mood dimming only slightly. “Enthusiasm is precisely what we need. I’d much rather see my daughters courted by men of passion than by dullards. Jason Lannister is a capable lord, and his interest is genuine. If this visit goes well, who knows? Perhaps there will be a match.”

Your headache worsened as you listened to your father’s musings, and you leaned back against the carriage wall, closing your eyes briefly. The motion of the carriage, combined with Viserys’s unchecked optimism, was grating on your nerves.

“And Rhaenyra,” Viserys continued, his tone growing more serious, “once this visit is over, it’s time for you to take a tour of the realm.”

Rhaenyra blinked, surprised. “A tour?”

Viserys nodded firmly. “Yes, a proper tour. You’ve had plenty of suitors send petitions, but it’s time you meet them in person. Let the lords of the realm present their cases directly. You are the heir to the Iron Throne, after all. It’s only fitting that you see more of the kingdom you’ll one day rule.”

Rhaenyra’s expression darkened, her jaw tightening slightly. “And if I find none of them to my liking?”

Viserys chuckled, clearly unbothered by her resistance. “Then you’ll have to keep looking, my dear. Who knows? Perhaps you’ll find a lord who shows as much interest in you as Lord Jason has shown in your sister.”

Rhaenyra shot you a sharp look, one eyebrow arching as if to say, This is your fault. You met her gaze briefly before turning back to the window, unwilling to engage in another round of bickering.

Alicent shifted again, adjusting Aegon in her lap as he began to fuss. “Your Grace,” she said gently, “perhaps we should focus on the visit at hand before making plans for tours. The realm’s stability is paramount, especially with the conflict in the Stepstones.”

Viserys sighed, though he didn’t seem particularly troubled. “The Stepstones will hold. Daemon is handling that situation, and the council is capable enough. For now, we focus on Casterly Rock and the future of this family.”

You clenched your hands in your lap, biting back the urge to comment. The weight of Viserys’s expectations, combined with Jason’s persistent overtures, felt suffocating. As the carriage swayed and creaked, you silently vowed to endure this visit with as much grace as you could muster—but you couldn’t shake the feeling that Jason had something planned, and that your father would only encourage him further.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms as she stared out the opposite window. “This is going to be a disaster,” she muttered under her breath, though her voice was loud enough for you to hear. You didn’t disagree.

The gates of Casterly Rock swung open with grandeur, revealing Jason Lannister and his delegation waiting to welcome the royal family. The sun gleamed off the lions adorning the gates, and the sea breeze carried the faint scent of salt and blooming roses from the meticulously kept gardens within the Rock. Jason stood at the head of his retinue, dressed in colors of House Lannister, his armor polished to perfection. His hair caught the light, and his confident smirk betrayed his anticipation. Beside him stood Tyland, whose expression was considerably more reserved.

As the royal carriage pulled to a stop, a hush fell over the gathered courtiers and servants. The doors opened, and Viserys stepped out first, beaming with excitement. Alicent followed, holding Aegon’s hand as the toddler stumbled slightly, his bright eyes wide with curiosity. Rhaenyra emerged next, her regal demeanor a stark contrast to the faint scowl you wore as you exited the carriage last.

Jason’s gaze locked on you immediately, and his smirk deepened. “Your Grace,” he said, bowing low to Viserys, “welcome to Casterly Rock. It is an honor to host you and your family in the greatest stronghold in the west.”

Viserys’s smile widened, his voice warm as he clasped Jason’s arm. “Lord Jason, the honor is ours. Casterly Rock is as magnificent as I remember. I can see your family’s pride in every stone.”

Jason inclined his head graciously, though his eyes drifted back to you. “I’ve ensured that every detail of your visit reflects the esteem we hold for the crown—and for its most radiant jewels.”

His words earned murmurs of approval from the Lannister courtiers, and Viserys chuckled, clearly pleased. “Well said, Lord Jason.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, instead forcing a polite smile as Jason’s attention lingered on you. His gaze was far too knowing, and the faint glint of amusement in his green eyes set your nerves on edge. He stepped forward, extending his arm toward you with exaggerated courtesy. “Princess,” he said smoothly, “may I escort you?”

Viserys, delighted by the attention Jason was giving you, intervened before you could reply. “Of course, of course! She would be honored.” He gestured encouragingly, and you had no choice but to accept.

Your smile was strained as you linked your arm with Jason’s, the warmth of his hand resting lightly over yours sending an unwelcome jolt of familiarity through you. He leaned in slightly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

“Remind me, Princess,” he murmured, his tone wicked, “was it the table or the bed where you first said my name?”

You stiffened, your lips pressing into a thin line to keep from reacting. “Careful, Lord Lannister,” you whispered back, your tone sharp. “I doubt your guests would appreciate you being carried out of your own hall in pieces.”

Jason chuckled softly, his laughter warm and rich. “I missed you too,” he said, the amusement in his voice only deepening your irritation.

By then, Viserys had joined the two of you, Alicent and Rhaenyra following closely behind. Jason reluctantly released your arm, bowing again as he did so. “Your Grace, if you’ll allow me, I’d be honored to escort you into the Rock myself.”

Viserys accepted with a smile, clearly impressed. “You’re a fine host, Jason. It’s no wonder your reputation precedes you.”

As the procession moved into the towering halls of Casterly Rock, Jason fell into step beside you once again, ensuring he remained close enough to make his presence known. The opulence of the castle was impossible to ignore—lion statues flanked every doorway, and the walls were adorned with tapestries depicting the triumphs of House Lannister. You couldn’t deny the grandeur, even as Jason’s proximity grated on your nerves.

“You must tell me, Princess,” he murmured again, his voice barely above a whisper, “did you bring the statue I sent you? I’d hate to think it’s gathering dust.”

You shot him a glare, your voice equally low. “I left it in King’s Landing. I thought it would appreciate the peace and quiet.”

Jason laughed quietly, his eyes alight with amusement. “And yet here you are, as sharp as ever. It’s good to see some things haven’t changed.”

Viserys, oblivious to the undercurrent between you, glanced back at the two of you and smiled. “You seem to get along well, Jason. That’s good. My daughter has always had a discerning eye.”

Jason grinned, his charm turning effortless. “It’s no challenge to appreciate someone as remarkable as the princess, Your Grace. I only hope to be worthy of her esteem.”

Viserys beamed at the compliment, and you forced another smile, your irritation simmering beneath the surface. Jason’s arrogance was infuriating, but his skillful handling of your father—and his undeniable charm—only made it harder to dismiss him outright.

As the procession continued deeper into the castle, Jason leaned slightly closer once more, his voice soft but teasing. “You’re lucky the king is here to keep me on my best behavior, Princess.”

You shot him a sharp look, though your pulse quickened despite yourself. “Don’t push your luck, Lannister.”

Jason laughed again, clearly enjoying himself far too much. “Oh, but Princess, I live to test boundaries.”

And with that, he straightened, his confident smirk firmly in place as he resumed his role as the perfect host. You bit back a sigh, bracing yourself for what you knew would be a long and insufferable visit.

The great hall of Casterly Rock was nothing short of breathtaking. Golden chandeliers cast a warm glow over the long tables laden with an opulent feast—roasted boar, honey-glazed pheasants, spiced wines, and an array of delicacies rarely seen outside the west. Tapestries depicting the victories of House Lannister hung from the walls, while a harpist played softly in the corner, filling the hall with soothing Valyrian melodies.

Jason Lannister presided over the affair with his characteristic charm. He sat at the head of the table beside King Viserys, who appeared utterly delighted with the grandeur of the evening. Rhaenyra and Alicent, seated nearby, were quieter but respectful, though Alicent’s gaze lingered wearily on Aegon, who was seated beside her and clearly growing restless.

You, however, had been placed several seats down, a strategic position that you had thought would keep you away from Jason’s immediate attention. But as the feast wore on, you noticed his gaze drifting toward you more often than not, his smirk deepening each time he caught your eye.

Finally, after a particularly jovial toast, Jason turned to Viserys, his tone casual but deliberate. “Your Grace,” he said, lifting his goblet in a gesture of camaraderie, “might I ask a favor? It would be a great honor to have the princess sit beside me for the remainder of the feast. There are matters I would like to discuss with her more privately—matters of mutual interest, of course.”

Viserys, his mood buoyed by the wine and the atmosphere, chuckled warmly. “Of course, Lord Jason. My daughter’s presence would do any man honor.”

Your stomach sank as the king gestured for you to move, his smile leaving you no room for protest. To refuse in front of so many onlookers would risk creating a scene, something you couldn’t afford. Forcing a tight smile, you rose and made your way to Jason’s side, acutely aware of the delighted whispers among the gathered Lannisters and their retainers.

“Thank you, Princess,” Jason said smoothly as you settled into the seat beside him. “It’s always a pleasure to have your company.”

“I doubt that,” you muttered under your breath, keeping your expression neutral.

Jason’s grin widened, but he said nothing, turning back to Viserys to resume their conversation. The Lannister retainers nearby looked positively radiant, their excitement barely concealed. It was clear they saw this as a significant step toward cementing ties with the crown. Tyland, however, sat further down the table, his expression unreadable but his gaze flicking uneasily between you and his brother.

Jason, ever the perfect host, navigated his conversation with Viserys skillfully, discussing trade agreements, the prosperity of the Westerlands, and Casterly Rock’s unmatched wealth. He used every opportunity to subtly praise you—your poise, your intelligence, your discerning nature—all of which delighted the king.

When the conversation finally turned to another topic, Jason leaned back in his chair, tilting his head slightly toward you. His voice dropped to a low murmur, his tone once again tinged with that maddening mixture of amusement and arrogance.

“Finally, a moment to ourselves,” he said, his golden eyes glinting as they flicked to yours. “Tell me, Princess, are you enjoying the feast?”

You took a sip of wine, refusing to meet his gaze. “It’s fine, Lord Lannister. Your harpist is talented.”

“Ah,” he said, his tone teasing, “but not as talented as you. Though I imagine your talents lie elsewhere.”

You shot him a warning look, your voice dropping to match his. “Careful, Jason. You’re still within earshot of the king.”

Jason chuckled softly, clearly unbothered. “What can I say? You bring out the rogue in me. Perhaps later, you’d care to see how I’ve redecorated my chambers. I’m sure you’d appreciate the finer details.”

You narrowed your eyes, your voice cold despite the blush creeping up your neck. “I’d sooner throw myself off the Rock.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his voice dropping to an almost scandalous whisper. “You didn’t seem so opposed to my company last time, Princess. Shall I remind you?”

“Try it, and I’ll remind you why Morrath’s fangs are sharper than your wit,” you hissed back, your tone laced with irritation.

Jason laughed, the sound low and rich. “Gods, I’ve missed this. You truly are one of a kind, Princess.”

You bit back a retort, forcing your attention back to the table as the next course was served. Jason, however, seemed content to revel in your frustration, his smug expression never faltering.

The rest of the feast passed in a haze of polite conversation and strained smiles, Jason’s proximity making it difficult for you to relax. Every word he spoke seemed designed to needle you, and every glance he gave you carried that insufferable smirk. Yet, for all his arrogance, there was something disarmingly charming about his persistence—a fact that irritated you even more.

As the evening drew to a close and the hall began to empty, Jason leaned in one last time, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. “Think about my offer, Princess. My door will be open.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, rising from your seat with as much grace as you could muster and retreating toward your chambers. Jason watched you go, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful as he swirled the wine in his goblet.

“Soon enough,” he murmured to himself, already planning his next move.

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