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crazziforazzi · 27 days ago

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Fighting for the love (of the game) - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: First day of training camp

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

Trope: Second chance

A/N: Sooo... this starts out a bit heavy, but I think we are finishing on a better note and we can finally start building up their relationship again. I promise there will be more interaction between them from now on. Let me know what you think. :)

Word Count: 8.6k words

Masterlist

Azzi POV:

Azzi stood just outside the entrance to the Sparks training facility, her fingers curled lightly around the strap of her duffel bag. The air was still cool, edged with morning haze, and the city hadn’t quite shaken off the sleep yet, but the building in front of her buzzed with a different kind of energy. New chapter energy. This was it.

Her first day in the W.

She let the moment sink in. Because this? This was a big fucking deal.

She let that truth settle for a moment, soft and heavy. The dream was real now not distant, not hypothetical. She was here. At the front doors of the life she’d worked for. She had fought for this. Not just in the gym, but in every part of her life. Every rehab session, every sleepless night wondering if she’d be enough, every time she made herself believe in a future when her confidence was hanging by a thread. She had fought to become this version of herself: the one who didn’t hesitate, who didn’t wait for permission, who walked into rooms like she belonged in them.

And she did. She belonged here.

She had stepped up this past year in ways that still surprised her. She wasn’t the quiet freshman anymore, waiting to be told where to stand. She had grown. She had led. Taken the last shot. Lifted her team. Been the loudest voice in the locker room when it mattered. She wasn’t scared of the spotlight anymore. She knew her worth now, and not because someone told her, but because she’d proved it to herself.

She had every right to walk into that building like she was already part of it.. But her feet weren’t moving.

Because Paige was already inside.

She hadn’t seen her. But Azzi didn’t need to check. Didn’t need a text or a headcount. She just knew. Of course Paige was early, she always was, especially when she felt like she had something to prove. And Azzi could feel her presence as clearly as she could feel the sun on her shoulders. It was like her heart had a radar, and Paige’s name was still the strongest signal it picked up.

Azzi closed her eyes and let the breath sink low into her chest. It had been nine months since Paige walked away. Not loudly. Not dramatically. Just… left. No text, no call, no fight. Just quiet absence that settled deeper each day until silence became the only thing between them.

Azzi had gone through every version of herself trying to make sense of it. The angry version. The numb version. The version that wanted to hate her and couldn’t. And eventually, the one that just missed her.

Azzi exhaled slowly, her breath shaky even though she tried to hold it steady.

She thought she’d be nervous today, but not like this. Not because of her. This was supposed to be about her dream. Her journey. Her becoming. And yet, here she was, standing on the edge of it all with a familiar ache pulsing under her ribs like it never left.

Because the truth, the one she hated and tried to bury and still woke up to most mornings, was this:

She was still in love with Paige Bueckers. God, she was still so in love with her it made her feel stupid.

It didn’t matter how many times she had told herself she was over it. It didn’t matter how long it had been or how cleanly Paige had walked away. Azzi could still see her, all the versions of her, when she closed her eyes. Still hear her laugh. Still remember what it felt like when everything made sense just because Paige was holding her hand.

She had loved her since they were kids. Since they were stupid and shy and learning how to say I love you without flinching. And maybe she always would. Maybe that was the curse of first loves that ran that deep. You didn’t grow out of it, you just learned how to carry it differently.

And now, she had to carry it next to her. Every damn day. Because they were teammates again. Same team. Same court. Same space.

Azzi clenched her jaw.

She didn’t blame Paige. Not anymore. And she refused to hate her, not for choosing herself, not for leaving the way she did. Just because Paige hadn’t shown up for her in the end didn’t mean Azzi needed to rewrite every part of their story into something bitter. Paige had loved her once. She knew that. She felt it.

But that love hadn’t been enough to stay. And that’s what she had to live with. And still... she loved her.

Azzi closed her eyes for a second, grounding herself.

Yes, this was going to hurt. Seeing her and not touching her. Pretending it was fine. Pretending they were just teammates, nothing more. But she could do it. She would do it. Because no matter how loud her heart still beat for Paige, she wasn’t walking into that building for anyone but herself.

She was Azzi Fudd. She was a professional basketball player now.

She was here because she earned it, because she was ready to play, to shine, to take up space with or without someone holding her hand through it.

She let her fingers tighten around the strap once more. Shoulders back. Chin up. Whatever waited for her inside, she could face it. Even if it had Paige’s eyes.

Then she stepped forward. And walked inside.

Paige POV - A few hours earlier

Paige was the first one in the building.

Not because anyone told her to be, but because she had to be.

It was barely 7.15 a.m. when she scanned her badge at the side door, stepping into the chilled quiet of the gym. Her shoes echoed softly on the hardwood. The lights turned on the deeper she walked into the space. She dropped her bag by the wall and paused. Just stood there. Let herself take it in.

This court didn’t know her yet.

It didn’t know about Dallas. About the noise. About the headlines. About the expectations that got shoved onto her like weights she never agreed to carry. It didn’t know about the way her first year felt like a blur of trying to survive a storm she couldn’t steer.

This court didn’t care.

And maybe that’s why she already loved it.

She grabbed a ball and moved into her warmup, slow at first. Close-in shots. Just her and the rim. The kind of repetition that made her mind go quiet. Every follow-through steadied her breath. Every swish reminded her that she could do this. That muscle memory still lived in her body. That this game still belonged to her.

That she still belonged to it.

She needed that reminder. More than she liked to admit.

Because part of her still wondered if she could find her way back. Not just to form or confidence or consistency, but to herself. The version of Paige who played because she loved it, not because everyone expected her to. The version who felt joy crackling through her limbs when the ball left her fingers just right. The girl who used to stay late at UConn just because she could and she couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

She wanted to be that player again. Or maybe something even better. Stronger. Smarter. Someone who could lead not just by talent, but by presence. Someone this team could trust. Someone Azzi could trust.

And if she had to fight her way back inch by inch, she would.

She worked her way out to midrange. Then the arc. Her legs burned in the best way. Sweat solely built along her spine. Her chest opened up. For a few clean minutes, nothing else existed. Just the bounce, the breath, the flick of her wrist.

She loved this. God, she loved this.

Paige caught the ball off the bounce once again, planted hard, and drained a three from the wing. She didn’t celebrate. Just jogged to the top of the key and kept going.

You belong here, she told herself again. Out of something deeper than pride. This wasn’t about legacy anymore. This was about love.

The game had been hers since she was a kid. She’d always known the feel of it, the weight of the ball in her palms, the rush of a perfect sequence, the high of reading the floor before anyone else. But somewhere along the way, that joy had gotten swallowed by pressure. Now she was chasing it back. With purpose.

Another swish. Another small exhale. She was in her rhythm when she heard the side door bang open. Paige glanced up without stopping.

Rae Burrell entered first, hoodie on, AirPods in, carrying a pink smoothie. "Oh damn,” Rae called, pulling a bud out, "Bueckers is out here acting like it’s March Madness.”

"Get your cardio in,” Paige said dryly, flicking her wrist and sending another shot sailing through. "You are late, Burrel.”

"I am early,” Rae said, setting her drink down. "You are just insane.”

"Debatable.”

Cam Brink followed right behind, all long limbs and big smile. She dropped her bag with a dramatic thud. "You have been here how long, Paige?”

Paige glanced at the clock.

"Don’t say it,” Cam muttered. "It’s disrespectful to the rest of us who are just trying to survive the first week.”

Paige shrugged, catching the ball mid-bounce. "I like getting extra shots up.”

Cam blinked. "At seven a.m. on the first training day?”

"I don’t sleep well.” Rae squinted at her, like she wasn’t sure if it was a joke or a confession. But Paige just smiled. "Besides,” she added, "it’s peaceful before everyone gets in. No one is teasing me.”

"Wow,” Cam said. "This team bonding is off to a strong start.”

Paige laughed softly, finally stepping off the arc and tossing the ball toward the rack. She grabbed her water bottle, took a long sip, and went to give both of them a quick hug.

It wasn’t awkward. Not with them. She’d played against Rae back at UConn. She knew Cam even better through junior national team camps and her games against Stanford. There was history here, not close-friends history yet, but enough. Enough to call it familiar. Enough to build on.

They had even bumped into each other a few days ago at the facility, before the full team reported. Rae had spotted her in the weight room and dragged Cam in after lunch to say hi. It was a little chaotic, mostly them roasting her about being the biggest trade deal in WNBA history, but it had eased something in her chest. It made this feel less like being dropped on a new team. It made her feel welcomed.

"Glad you are here though,” Rae said now, nodding toward her with sincerity under the teasing. "We could use a little Geno discipline around here, but do not dare to quote me on this! Understood?”

Paige was still smiling, her heartbeat finally slowing into something that felt like steady ground. This was what she’d missed. Not just the game, but this. The teasing from teammates. The quiet knowing that someone had your back even if they roasted you whenever they could.

She reached for her towel, wiped her face, and tossed it back into her bag.

"All right,” she said, tightening her ponytail. "Let’s get to work. We have a championship to win.”

Paige had just started to settle. The drills, the rhythm, the easy banter with Cam and Rae, it had all given her something to lean into. Not comfort exactly, but motion. She caught a pass from Rae and stepped into the shot, top of the arc, her spot, weight balanced, feet set. Her shoulders rose with the breath she was about to exhale, her wrist coiled for release.

And then it hit her.

Like gravity shifting. Like someone had reached inside her and tugged a string buried deep in her spine. That feeling. That impossible, instinctual pull she hadn’t felt in nearly a year, the one that never lied.

Azzi.

Her name didn’t need to be said. Paige didn’t have to look. Her body always knew before her brain did. That weight in the air, that pull in her chest, it had only ever belonged to one person.

There could have been a hundred people walking through those doors, and Paige still would have known the moment she walked in. It was her. It was always her.

She tried to hold her focus, eyes locked on the rim, trying to push the tremble out of her fingers. Her arms moved through the motion anyway, the shot already in the air before she realized how badly she’d lost her balance.

The ball sailed clean over the backboard.

"Jesus,” she muttered under her breath, hands on her hips as if she could pretend it didn’t matter.

Cam let out a theatrical gasp, jogging after the ball. "Okay, Bueckers. Trying to kill a bird or just take out the scoreboard?”

Paige cracked a sheepish smile, but her stomach was already in knots. Her skin was flushed, too warm. The pressure behind her ribs pulsed like it was trying to crawl out. Because she knew. Because she felt it.

And then came the voice.

"Look who made it to LA!” Cam shouted, bright and excited. "Welcome, Fudd!”

Her last name, thrown across the gym like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t splinter Paige’s chest wide open.

She stayed where she was. Let Rae and Cam cross the court first, let them do the hugging and the high-pitched hellos. She couldn’t follow. Not yet. Her legs weren’t moving, her heart was hammering like she’d just finished suicides, and her lungs were struggling to keep up.

Cam’s voice snapped her back to the moment. "Don’t act all high and mighty now, Bueckers. We know you two probably FaceTimed last night,” she teased, and Rae laughed like it was obvious, like there was no other version of the story that made sense. Paige blinked, jarred by the absurdity of it. TThe assumption that they were still anything close to them.

Slowly, she finally turned. And one second, that was all it took.

Even after all this time, Azzi Fudd still looked like every beginning Paige had ever wanted. But now, she looked like something else too. Something that made Paige’s breath catch in her throat.

She wasn’t just beautiful. She was devastating. Changed, sharper in a way Paige hadn’t seen coming, like time had sculpted her quietly while Paige was busy looking away.

She was still standing near the door, framed by the Sparks signage and the hard morning light pouring through the windows. Her duffel was slung over one shoulder, hoodie sleeves rolled to her elbows, neck long and elegant. Her posture had that same quiet poise, but it was settled differently now. Not like a sleepy college athlete showing up for morning lift, but like a woman who belonged here. Like she didn’t need anyone to tell her that.

But it was her face that hit Paige hardest.

The softness that used to cling to Azzi’s cheeks was gone. In its place were clean lines, carved cheekbones, eyes darker than Paige remembered. Her brows were bolder now, defined and arched, and when her lips tugged briefly, not quite a smile, not for Paige, the dimple on her right side appeared, deeper than it used to be, more deliberate somehow. Paige had kissed that dimple a hundred times, a thousand times, but this version of it made her feel like she had no right to want it anymore.

She looked older. Not in the way birthdays make you older, in the way living does. She had grown into herself, and Paige hadn’t been there to see it happen. That was the worst part. Not just the loss, the missing. All the days she used to take for granted, now gone. Irretrievable.

And then there were the braids.

Goddess braids. Thin, gleaming, pulled back into a high ponytail that framed her face like something holy. Paige had seen Azzi wear them before, of course she had. For special events, during offseasons, when she had time to sit for hours and wanted to feel a little extra. But never like this. Never in a gym. Never on a day one. It caught Paige completely off guard. The effort, the intention, the way it crowned her like she didn’t just come to train, but to reign.

She looked like a woman Paige would never be allowed to touch.

And yet, God, she wanted to. Wanted to drop everything and walk across the court, fall to her knees if that’s what it took, beg Azzi to look at her the way she used to. To forgive her. To remember. To let her try again.

Because in that one breathless moment, Paige didn’t just miss Azzi. She craved her. The kind of craving that left you shaky in the knees and hollow behind the ribs. She felt undone by it. Like her heart had been taken apart and reassembled wrong in her chest, pulsing against a rhythm it no longer recognized.

She couldn’t breathe.

And then Azzi’s eyes met hers. Just for a second. Just enough to crack the world open.

And then Azzi looked away.

It was quick, a flicker, a half-second, but Paige felt it like a hit straight to the sternum. All the breath in her lungs punched out at once. There it was again: the consequence. The weight of what she had broken. Nine months of space. Nine months of no texts, no calls, no explanations. One late, unanswered message Paige hadn’t dared follow up on. No voice notes with bad jokes. No late-night "are you still up” FaceTimes.

Nine months since she’d let her own fear, her fractured sense of who she was, who she could be, drive them off a cliff she wasn’t sure they couldn’t have survived together.

After almost a decade of being each other’s everything, Paige now only knew what a stranger would. Her timeline. Her stats. Her press quotes.

And it completely wrecked her.

"Bueckers, what are you doing?” Cam called back, playful and oblivious. "Stop acting like you are too cool to say hi to your bestie.”

Rae grinned. "Yeah, no need to pretend you don’t know each other, alright?”

Paige inhaled through her nose, forcing her legs to move. She crossed the court slowly, each step heavier than the last, her fingers twitching at her sides. Her chest was drawn tight, like she’d wrapped it in tape and didn’t remember how to breathe around it. She hadn’t planned for this part. Didn’t even know what she was supposed to say. What could she say?

Azzi turned just as Paige reached them. And for the briefest, sharpest moment, their eyes met again. Closer now. Sharper. Paige offered a small, cautious smile, her voice catching at the edge.

"Hey,” she said gently, soft around the vowels, the kind of softness that begged for mercy without ever saying so. "You made it.”

Azzi didn’t smile. Didn’t smirk. There was no joke waiting on her tongue like there would have been before. She looked at Paige with that same guarded calm, and said, "Yeah. Got in yesterday. Cannot miss day one.”

It wasn’t unkind. But it was distant. Measured. Nothing more than what was required. There was no cruelty in it. That would’ve almost been easier. No, this was worse, it was indifference. Practiced detachment. Paige recognized it instantly, because she’d seen it on her own face more times than she cared to admit.

She hesitated. And then, without thinking, she opened her arms. Not wide. Not demanding. Just a gesture. Something automatic and painfully hopeful.

Azzi froze. You could see it, the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, the weight of decision. But then, after what felt like an eternity compressed into a breath, she stepped in. Her arms brushed Paige’s sides but didn’t wrap around her. They were just… there. Placed. Like she was hugging someone she barely remembered but didn’t want to offend.

It lasted 3 seconds. Maybe less.

Paige hadn’t even gotten her arms fully around her before Azzi was already stepping back. Already gone. The hug evaporated before it even existed.

Her hands dropped uselessly to her sides. Her heart followed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Rae giving her a puzzled glance, and Cam, always trying to defuse discomfort, tried to play it off with a light laugh, already pivoting into another joke about "first-day weird vibes,” but Paige didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Azzi turned her back a moment later, falling into conversation like nothing had just broken open between them. And Paige stood there, watching, not just because she couldn’t stop, but because she didn’t know how to be anything else now. Not when it came to her. Not after everything. Quiet, on the sidelines, waiting to be let in.

And God, it hurt. It hurt more than she expected. To realize how much time she’d lost. How many pieces of Azzi’s life she no longer had access to. She didn’t know what Azzi did for her birthday, or what songs she added to her playlists this year, or if she still wore those stupid lucky socks under her sneakers before games. She didn’t know what she did when she couldn’t sleep. She didn’t know if someone else held her through that now.

She used to know everything.

Paige swallowed hard and bent to retrieve the ball Cam had left behind. Her fingers gripped the rubber too tightly. Her jaw clenched. She looked back at the rim.

You are here now, she reminded herself. So fucking show up. Earn her trust again.

This wasn’t going to be easy. This wasn’t going to be some fairytale arc where things magically repaired themselves. Paige didn’t believe in that anymore. Not after everything. But she believed in work. She believed in showing up. And if she had to earn her place back inch by inch, moment by moment, then she would. On this team. On this court.

And maybe one day with Azzi.

She lined up, focused, exhaled, and let the shot fly. It dropped clean through the net.

The first-morning buzz had already burned off by the time the players trooped back onto the hardwood. They’d just sat through an hour of alignment: slides about franchise culture, staff introductions, the official reading of the new roster, then a clipboard-tight breakdown of the next two-week camp schedule: morning blocks, recovery windows, media slots color-coded like Tetris. Paige had taken notes out of habit even though she’d memorized most of it on the flight. Azzi had sat a row ahead, back straight, nodding like a model student every time someone said rookies.

Now the air smelled like sweat and fresh pine resin from the newly waxed floor. Assistant coach Danielle Robinson clapped twice as the team finished a quick dynamic warm-up: high-knee lines, band walks, shoulder rolls.

"Good,” Coach Roberts said. "Keep the blood moving while Danielle gives you your partners for skill stations. We are evaluating pace, voice, and how fast you pick up cues. Four stations, twelve-minute blocks. Talk, rebound for each other, correct each other. Got it?”

A chorus of yeah, Coach echoed, sneakers scuffing as everyone shuffled in. Paige bounced on her toes, rolling her shoulders loose, but her gaze drifted, unwillingly, toward the rookie line.

Robinson read from her clipboard. "Fudd, you are with Plum.”

And Paige didn’t miss it, the way Azzi exhaled the moment she heard her assigned partner. It was small, barely visible unless you had been watching her for years, but Paige saw it. The little release of tension. The subtle thank God energy.

She was worried it would be me, Paige thought, trying not to feel too much about it.

Robinson kept going. "Brink, you are with Bueckers.”

Cam bumped her shoulder. "Let’s see what we can cook up, Bueckers. You got me today.”

Paige snorted. "Can’t tell if that’s a threat or a reward.”

"Oh, definitely a reward,” Cam grinned, already walking toward the ball rack. "You just don’t know how lucky you are yet.”

Cam barked a laugh, tossed a ball high, the lazy arc forced Paige to back-pedal and snag it one-handed, drawing a low whistle from a nearby intern holding the iPad stat tracker. Paige flicked the ball back, quick and hard; Cam caught it to her hip. Their rhythm was effortless, the kind that came from too many college matches against each other’s teams and clearly studying one another for hours.

The rest of the day unfolded in blocks: station work, team concepts, and quick-break transitions. Cam kept the energy light, constantly moving, always talking. Paige liked her more with every drill. Not just because Cam was funny, though she was, but because she was serious when it mattered. She was competitive without being a try-hard. Sharp but not arrogant. By the third station, they had developed a rhythm. By the fourth, Cam was already predicting when Paige would place the ball.

It was surprising how good it felt. How easy it was.

Already better than anything Paige had managed to build last season in Dallas. Arike had been... fine. A phenomenal scorer on her good days. But everything about that dynamic had felt like working uphill in sand. Every time Paige spoke up, it got nodded at, maybe acknowledged, but rarely heard. Half the time her cuts didn’t get hit, the other half her reads got ignored. She’d stopped calling for backdoor cuts by midseason. No one followed.

Here? Already different.

Robinson had barely finished outlining a transition concept when Paige raised a hand and offered a variation, one they’d used during her junior year at UConn. Azzi picked it up immediately. Rae asked for clarification, then nailed it on the second try. Cam backed her up without hesitation. And the most surprising part?

They actually ran it the next set.

That small moment left Paige more energized than she’d expected. Her body ached, sweat soaked through her second tank of the day, and her legs were already telling her tomorrow would suck. But still, she felt sharp. Alive. Like she’d finally landed somewhere people saw what she brought, and wanted more of it.

They saved the full-court 5-on-5 scrimmage for the end of the day. Coaches picked the squads, well-balanced. Paige and Cam ended up on the same side, Rae and Sarah too. Azzi was across from her. Of course.

Plum gave Azzi a little shoulder bump as they lined up. "Let’s see what you got, kid.”

Paige forced herself to stretch, to focus on her own game. Not the butterflies in her stomach.

She had tried to be subtle all day. Focused on herself. But she’d still noticed the little things. Kelsey shouting "Nice one, Fudd!” after a clean corner jumper. Rickea clapping when Azzi nailed another quick 3 pointer. And that smile on Azzi’s face slowly blooming wider with every drill, every touch, every time someone called her by name instead of rookie. Paige felt that smile like heat under her skin.

And then the game started.

The scrimmage was messy, like all first-day runs, but better than expected. Simple screens were getting set, spacing wasn’t a disaster, and Cam was already creating space as only she could. Paige had a couple clean assists, a catch-and-shoot midrange that rattled in, and even a quick give-and-go with Sarah that got a head nod from Coach Reyes.

But the highlight, the one that made Rae double over laughing and Kelsey yell across the court in delight, came when Paige tried to sneak around Azzi at the top of the key.

She was too casual. It was a mistake people wouldn’t normally notice, except... well. It was Azzi.

And Azzi? She read her like a book.

She stepped in, stole the pass clean, and was already sprinting the other way before Paige fully registered it. Fast, smooth, easy.

"She cooked you, Bueckers!” Dearica shouted through a laugh.

"Paige,” Kelsey called, grinning as she patted her back, "you alright? Letting a rookie do this to you on her first day?”

Paige rolled her eyes, palms up. "She knows me. That doesn’t count.”

Cam cackled beside her. "That’s what you get for thinking you are the only genius out here.”

But Paige wasn’t mad. Not even close. She bit back a smile and shook her head. Because of course Azzi knew her. They’d been training together since they were fifteen. Of course she knew the shift in Paige’s weight before a fake. Of course she knew the tempo of her eyes before a pass.

It was almost comforting, in a weird, twisted way. Because Azzi still remembered.

They played on for a few more possessions, trading buckets and building small flashes of chemistry. Rae banked in a short hook that shouldn’t have gone in and cracked up on the way down the court. Paige swung the ball, cut through, got it back in rhythm, a clean jumper from the elbow. Everything felt like building instead of proving.

And as they cooled down afterward, the weight in her chest wasn’t heavy.

Cam dropped beside her on the baseline, untying her shoes, sweat clinging to her eyebrows. "You look like you could do this for two more hours, P.”

Paige shook her head, laughing softly. "My legs disagree.”

"Still,” Cam said, voice a little quieter now, "you look like yourself out there. It’s great to see that.”

Paige blinked at that. Because yeah, she had. For the first time in a while.

Across the court, Azzi was standing near Kelsey, towel around her neck, cheeks flushed pink, hands gesturing mid-recap. She looked happy. Their eyes met for half a second. Azzi’s smile faded into something softer, almost shy. Paige offered a small nod. Nothing more. But it was enough.

Day one was done. And even if the road ahead was long and messy and full of things they hadn’t said yet, Paige felt it in her bones: LA was a good place for her.

Azzi POV:

Azzi barely remembered the staff introductions, just a blur of names, handshakes, and PowerPoints. She had been too focused on her breath, keeping it even, steady. Too focused on not letting her hand tremble when they passed out folders with her name printed across the top. FUDD in all caps, bold and professional. It still looked surreal.

She sat toward the front of the meeting room, posture perfect, eyes on every speaker like it would earn her a gold star. The schedule for the next two weeks had been dense, color-coded, and intimidating. Practices, lifts, film sessions, media obligations. No time for doubt. No room for hesitation.

So when they finally moved to the court for warm-ups, she was already buzzing. Not in a bad way. Just… full. Her whole body keyed up, each limb a little too aware of itself.

Azzi tied her shoes a little too tight the first time.

She didn’t realize it until the warmup had already started, her arches aching with every high knee. It gave her something to focus on, at least, that dull pressure, the bite of her laces. Anything to keep her brain from spiraling.

She was here. Officially. In a Sparks jersey. Day one.

When Roberts started reading out station pairs, Azzi didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until her name was called.

"Fudd, you are with Plum.”

And exhale.

She felt it leave her body before she could stop it, just a quiet release of tension. She hadn’t wanted to be paired with Paige. Not because she didn’t trust her game. Because she knew it too well. Because it would be too easy to fall into the rhythm they already had. And that wasn’t what this was for.

She turned to Kelsey quickly, giving a small nod.

Kelsey smirked, tossing her a ball. "Let’s get to work, rookie.”

And just like that, something clicked. Kelsey didn’t coddle. She gave direction, yes, but also room. "Tempo here.” "Eyes up.” "Don’t wait for me, move like you mean it.” It wasn’t hand-holding, it was a partnership.

And Azzi rose to it. She picked up on Plum’s pacing cues, mirrored her energy, matched her rotations. Every rep felt cleaner. By the second station, they weren’t just reacting, they were reading each other.

Kelsey’s voice sharpened during a ball-movement drill. "Talk to me, Z. Don’t let me be the only one yapping.”

Azzi blinked, then nodded. "Switch left. Cut middle. Elbow’s open.”

Plum gave her a small, approving clap. "That’s more like it.”

It felt good, not just being seen, but stepping in. Like even though she was a rookie, her voice had weight here. Like she wasn’t just being taught, she was already being trusted.

Still, no matter how hard she focused, she still… she noticed Paige.

It wasn’t intentional. It never was. It was muscle memory. Her eyes would flick across the gym and land on Paige passing off a screen, or correcting someone’s spacing, or laughing with Cam.

That one surprised her. Paige and Cam had always been friendly, sure, but they looked close now. Comfortable.

Then there was the physical part. The first time she saw Paige catch the ball and turn into a drive, Azzi’s breath caught. Not from the move, but from the shoulders.

When had Paige gotten that built?

Azzi blinked, shook her head.

Of course she had. This wasn’t college. WNBA defenders didn’t give you space just because you were clever. Strength mattered here. Paige had always been tough, but now… now there was power behind it. Muscle she hadn’t had at UConn. Definition along her upper arms, across her back. She filled out the jersey differently.

Azzi forced her gaze down. Back to the ball. Back to Kelsey.

You are not here to stare at her shoulders, she scolded herself. You are here to earn your place.

Plum tossed her a ball. "Corner. Go again.”

She hit it. Clean. Let the rhythm pull her back in.

The final scrimmage brought a new kind of nerves. Not fear, just intensity. Real basketball. Fast, loud, messy in the best way. Azzi found herself matched up across from Paige for the first time all day.

It wasn’t awkward. It was familiar. Comfortable, even. They didn’t talk. But they didn’t have to.

When Azzi stripped the ball from her, a perfectly timed reach after Paige took a moment too long, her body moved before her brain could catch up. She was sprinting, heart racing, the court opening up. Laid it up with her left, kissed it off glass.

Both teams erupted.

She jogged back, pulse still pounding, and her eyes found Paige without meaning to. Just a beat. A glance. And when Paige smiled, Azzi couldn’t help but answer, a small smirk, almost sheepish. Not gloating. Just… that was fun. I missed this.

They went at it for a few more plays. Paige got her once with a screen fake, and Azzi fouled her on a reach-in that drew a whistle and an eye roll from Kelsey.

Still, when the scrimmage ended and they dropped into cool-down stretches, Azzi didn’t look back. She sat beside Rickea and Dearica, shoulders loose, breathing deep.

She’d made it. She’d shown up. She hadn’t just survived Day One, she’d belonged in it.

Across the court, Paige was laughing with Rae and Cam. Azzi glanced once more, quick. Then looked down at her shoes and retied them, looser this time.

Tomorrow would come fast. And she’d be ready.

The locker room was buzzing in that low, post-practice way, towels slung over shoulders, sneakers thudding against tile, music playing low from someone’s phone in the corner. Bits of conversation floated through the space: laughs, introductions, someone already planning a team dinner. Azzi sat on the floor in front of her locker, towel wrapped around her neck, legs outstretched, finishing a laugh at something Sarah had said.

"Chicago’s got the best food,” Sarah said about her favorite WNBA road cities. "And the fans actually show up.”

Dearica grinned. "And the cold slaps you awake at 7 a.m. in the middle of May. Love that.”

Azzi laughed, even though her brain wasn’t entirely there. She was nodding, smiling, responding, but the longer they talked, the stronger the feeling grew.

That feeling she knew too well. That sensation. So familiar. So specific. Eyes on her. She didn’t even have to look up to know: it was Paige. Of course it was Paige.

Somehow, in this brand-new state-of-the-art facility, in a locker room big enough to have sections, Paige had still ended up directly across from her. Close enough that Azzi couldn’t lift her head without catching a glimpse. Without seeing the line of Paige’s jaw, or the shape of her knees drawn up toward her chest, or the towel slung low around her hips.

And of course, Paige wasn’t even trying to be subtle. Not really. Azzi had caught her looking three separate times during cool-downs. Now, in here, every time she glanced up, there it was again. That gaze, not quite direct, not quite shy. Just… there.

Azzi’s chest tightened. Her spine started to stiffen. She could feel her shoulders drawing in, the tension building beneath her skin like a static charge. She stopped hearing the words around her. Everything blurred at the edges.

She knew what was coming.

People were peeling off now, into showers, grabbing shakes, heading to ice baths. The room thinned out fast. Sarah waved goodbye and Dearica followed her out, still talking. Azzi felt the panic rise in her gut and stood up a little too quickly, towel slipping off her shoulders as she began packing her bag with clumsy urgency. If I’m fast, if I move…

Then came the soft thump of the brand new bench behind her. Azzi froze, halfway through zipping up her toiletry kit. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t need to. Footsteps. Quiet ones. Hesitant. Then a voice. Low. Too steady to be real.

"You did amazing today,” Paige said. "Like… not just rookie amazing. Real amazing.”

Azzi’s fingers curled tighter around her hoodie, but she didn’t speak. She stared into her locker. A pause. Then Paige added, with a teasing edge she couldn’t quite carry, "But I am gonna remember that steal. I’m taking it back the first chance I get.”

Azzi sighed before she could stop herself. Not annoyed, just tired. Slowly, she turned around.

Paige was right there, close, but not too close. Leaning forward just slightly, arms loose at her sides, trying hard to look relaxed. But Azzi knew her. Too well. Knew that the fake confidence was paper-thin. Knew that Paige was nervous as hell and trying to disguise it with charm and banter like she hadn’t used that exact trick since they were sixteen.

Still, Azzi decided to let her try. She shrugged, noncommittally. "I guess you can try.”

She turned back to her locker, picking up her socks, rolling them neatly. Kept her hands busy. But Paige didn’t leave. Didn’t take the out.

Paige tried again. "I meant what I said, though. Your shots looked good today. Real good. Footwork, too. That corner pull-up off Plum’s pass was clean.”

Azzi kept packing. Hoodie folded. Shoes zipped. No answer. Eventually, the words behind her faltered. Then stopped. Silence stretched. And then… a soft, unsteady breath.

"Azzi.”

Just her name. Nothing else. Nothing specific. But it was the way she said it. That tone.

Low. Bare. Real.

Azzi turned before she even realized she was going to.

And the Paige standing there wasn’t the one with the fake confidence anymore. She wasn’t performing. She just looked… vulnerable. Scared, even. Like she didn’t know how this would land. Like she was ready for Azzi to walk away. Maybe even expecting it.

There was something in her eyes that Azzi didn’t want to look at too long. Not yet. Not when she wasn’t ready to understand it. Because if she stood there long enough, she might start to hope. And hope still hurts. It scared her more than anything.

Paige swallowed. "Can we maybe… talk?”

Azzi stared at her. Long enough for it to settle. For the question to land. She reached down and zipped her bag, slow and steady.

When she finally looked up again, she didn’t hide it. Not this time. The hurt flickered across her face. Not raw, not cruel, just real. And Paige saw it. Azzi could tell. Her posture shifted, her breath caught, her shoulders dropped a fraction.

It was enough. Azzi’s voice came quiet. Honest. Firm.

"I am not ready to talk yet.”

She paused, holding Paige’s gaze just long enough to let the weight of it settle. Paige blinked. Opened her mouth. Closed it again.

"I need more time.”

And Paige, to her credit, nodded. Small. Almost imperceptible. Not with anger. Just… acceptance. She just stood there.

Azzi started to walk away and didn’t look back. But she felt Paige’s eyes lingering.

She wasn’t running. She wasn’t hiding. But she was protecting herself.

Azzi barely made it through the door of her rental before she dropped her bag and exhaled like she’d been holding her breath since noon. The place was small, just a temporary spot near the new facility arranged by the Sparks’ staff while she figured out something more permanent. Nothing special. A clean kitchen, a couch that squeaked when she shifted, and walls still bare except for the one photo of her and her parents at the draft, which she’d framed herself the night before flying out.

She toed off her sneakers and padded into the kitchen. Unwrapped the chicken wrap she’d picked up on the way home, then flopped onto the couch without turning on the lights. Her body felt like concrete. Her brain was still running plays.

Her fingers moved on autopilot, unlocking her phone, opening the group chat titled Huskies Girlies 💙🐾, and typing without even thinking:

azzi: survived day one barely call if awake ?

Less than fifteen minutes later, she was curled under a gray throw blanket on the couch, legs tucked beneath her, wrap half-eaten on the coffee table. The screen lit up. Incoming group FaceTime.

First came Ice, a big smile already forming as the camera turned on. Then Caroline, hair in a bun, leaning against what looked like a full laundry basket. Dorka popped in sideways, still in workout gear, earbuds in. And finally, Kayla, whose face filled the screen like she’d been ready for this call all day.

"AZZZZZIIIIII!”

"Look at our pro queen!”

"Wait, hold on, I need to take a screenshot. DON’T MOVE. Okay now talk.”

Azzi laughed, heart lifting immediately. The nerves, the tension, they didn’t vanish, but the weight eased with every familiar voice layered over the next.

"Okay, okay,” she said, trying to talk over them, her smile genuine now. "Y’all are loud. I literally just got home.”

"Tell us everything,” Caroline demanded. "Like everything, everything. Is the team cool? What’s the vibe? Are the vets nice or scary?”

Azzi curled into the blanket a little tighter, glancing at the ceiling before answering. "Honestly? It was good. Better than I expected. Everyone’s… locked in, but still nice. The pace was wild but not overwhelming.”

"I bet you cooked,” Kayla grinned, practically bouncing on her screen. "Don’t try to be humble.”

Azzi blushed. "I got a few buckets. Not cooked-cooked, but I held my own.”

"Give us a name,” Ice pressed. "Come on, who were you vibing with?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. "Plum.”

All four screens lit up in unison so she started talking about Kelsey. How she got paired with her, how she was tough but fair, how she made Azzi lead a defensive drill mid-day, all four of them got the same knowing look.

"Oh, she likes you,” Ice said, smirking. "Kelsey Plum doesn’t invest unless she sees something.”

"She made me take control,” Azzi admitted. "Didn’t give me time to overthink.”

"That’s so good,” Caroline said, eyes lighting up.

Dorka whistled. "She sounds like she’s claiming you as her rookie already.”

"I wouldn’t be mad,” Azzi murmured, half-laughing. "She makes me feel like I belong.”

"Azzi,” Kayla said gently. "You do belong.”

"I know. I just—yeah.” Azzi leaned her head back against the couch cushion and smiled for real. "I actually… had a great first day.”

There was a beat of collective satisfaction from the group. Proud nods, affirming little hums. But then… silence.

Too long. Too expectant.

Azzi could feel it through the screen, the way their eyes hadn’t moved, how their faces were still open and encouraging, but waiting. It wasn’t aggressive. Just inevitable.

Because she hadn’t mentioned her. Not once.

Azzi sighed, dragging the blanket higher over her legs. She looked down at the frayed corner between her fingers and spoke quietly.

"She asked to talk.”

Nobody said anything, but all four faces immediately leaned a little closer.

"Paige?” Kayla asked softly, even though they all already knew.

Azzi nodded.

"She didn’t push or anything,” she continued, her voice low. "We were on opposite teams the whole day. Barely interacted, honestly. Just that one moment in the locker room, after.”

She took a breath. Still didn’t look up.

"It was friendly,” she added. "Like… careful. Polite. But it’s hard. I kept, I kept noticing things. How she talks to teammates now. How people actually follow her lead already. How she looks more comfortable than she did last year. Stronger.”

Azzi swallowed.

"She’s bulked up,” she said, quieter now. "Like, a lot. Shoulders. Back. It makes sense, the league’s more physical, but it still threw me. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Ice made a soft sound, like she wanted to say something, but held it in.

"And I hate that I noticed. That I kept noticing. I told myself I wouldn’t.” Azzi shook her head. "But she was looking at me too. She didn’t even try to hide it.”

Finally, her eyes lifted, not because she was ready, but because she knew the question was coming.

"So what did you say?” Sarah asked. "When she asked to talk?”

Azzi let out a quiet, almost breathless laugh, not because it was funny, but because she’d been holding it in since the drive home.

She looked at her friends. Really looked. And they were already there, no follow-up needed. Four pairs of eyes wearing that familiar expression, the one she’d seen over and over all last season whenever Paige came up. That soft, sad little look that said poor Azzi without a single word.

They didn’t judge her. They didn’t pity her. They just knew. Azzi sighed and leaned her cheek against the back of the couch, finally saying it out loud:

"I told her I’m not ready.”

No one responded right away.

Then Caroline gave a small, quiet nod. "That’s fair.”

"And honest,” Ice added gently.

Dorka’s voice was soft. "She needed to hear that.”

They didn’t say anything else. They didn’t have to. She could feel it between them.

We all know that you’re not over her.

By 9 p.m., Azzi was already in bed.

Her body had started begging for rest sometime around 7.30 p.m., but she’d kept moving, cleaning up the remains of her wrap, brushing her teeth, throwing her training clothes into a messy pile in the corner of the small laundry closet. The ache had settled into her legs now, heavy and low and warm. The kind of tired that went deeper than muscle. The kind that meant you showed up.

After the call with the girls, she facetimed her parents. Her dad had been beaming through the phone; her mom’s voice was soft and proud, asking how her legs felt before even asking how the team was. They always knew what to focus on. Azzi answered everything, reassuring them that yes, the training staff was great, and yes, she was taking care of herself, and no, she wasn’t being too hard on her body.

They were proud. She could feel it in every word.

After that, she exchanged a few messages with Mack, who was still traveling, but sent a selfie holding up a spark emoji and the caption: ur a pro, azzi. PRO. don’t forget it tomorrow when you wake up sore as hell.

Azzi smiled to herself.

She answered a couple of quick emails from her manager, something about a rookie content shoot and a potential podcast taping in Week 3, and then finally, finally, she let herself crawl under the covers. The sheets were cool against her skin. Her phone was already in Do Not Disturb mode. Her eyes were burning. Her last thought before closing them was that tomorrow couldn’t come until she stopped thinking about today.

And then. Ping.

She frowned, barely lifting her head from the pillow. She knew what that sound meant. The only people who came through "Do Not Disturb” were her family… Mack… her manager… and…

Her heart was suddenly hammering before she even reached for the phone. One notification lit up her screen.

PAIGE 9.12 p.m.I get that you’re not ready to talk yet. I won’t push. I promise.But…when you are, I’ll be here. And in the meantime, I need you to know, you belong here, Azz. You are still the best player in the nation and I’m really proud of you.

Azzi blinked, staring at the screen, the words holding completely still while something under her ribs lurched and twisted and softened all at once. She didn’t move. Barely breathed.

There was no follow-up bubble. No typing indicator. Just that. Simple and kind. Exactly what she needed. Exactly what she didn’t want to need. It was… gentle. Thoughtful in that very specific, very Paige way. The kind of message only she would think to send. Not because it would fix anything, but because she knew how much Azzi needed to hear those words, even if she’d never admit it.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. She didn’t know what she was going to do. Respond? Ignore it? Screenshot it and send it to the girls with the caption kill me?

She took a deep breath. Her fingers started to move before she could change her mind, and the message was sent and delivered. And within seconds, read.

AZZI9.15 p.m.Thank you, P.

She didn’t wait for a reply.

She set the phone back down, face-down again, her hand lingering on top of it just a second too long. Then she rolled onto her side, curled into herself beneath the covers, and closed her eyes.

Her heart was still beating faster than it should have been. Her brain, still too full.

She wasn’t ready to talk yet. And Paige had heard her. And somehow, that mattered. And she needed Paige to know that.

She hadn’t answered the message from draft night. She hadn’t been able to. But this one… this felt different. She wasn’t saying yes. But she wasn’t saying no, either.

For now, she let the warmth of it wrap around her like the blanket pulled high against her chin.

And for the first time in months, she has fallen asleep in seconds.

#paige x azzi #pazzi fics #pazzi

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vagabond-umlaut · 2 years ago

Text

l'heure bleue

Ferocious, fearsome, infallible. The King Of Curses, Ryomen Sukuna, has never fought a war he hasn't won.

But, does that mean he'll taste success in this battle of beliefs, raging against no one but his Queen, as well?

▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; sooo much of tooth-rotting! domestic fluff between sukuna & reader; sukuna is so exhausted, still so fond of his dear wife; said wife is not too soft towards her husband [she has valid reasons, dw]; talks on death; indirect talk on periods & pregnancy; 0% ANGST IN THIS– ONLY FLUFFY HUMOR; spoiler alert— would-be-dad!sukuna x would-be-mom!reader

▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!

▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"I'm dying. Very soon."

While not the deep kiss you've always welcomed him with, into your chambers, every night of your married life— Sukuna reckons, he will take this many many times over the tense hush you've been offering him these days.

Shrugging his heavy cloak off his shoulders, the King of Curses walks over to where you're on the bed and frowns, fingers moving to thread through your unkempt hair, then run down the side of your face. Your eyes flutter close for a beat– undoubtedly, from the gentle caress, he surmises– before they grow wide open, blinking with tears of fear.

Rubbing the pad of his thumb over your wobbling lower lip, your lover sighs, knowing full well where this conversation might be going– still, as always, he decides to humor your concerns with an ask of his own.

"Did my Queen visit the royal physician, along with Uraume today?"

"No," you shake your head meekly, "I did not visit the physician. I was resting in our room the entire day."

"If you weren't feeling well, you could have asked her to visit you here, right?" your husband queries, sitting down beside you and pulling you into his lap. Snuggling into him with a soft hum, you send a miserable look his way— eliciting something eerily similar to the emotions, your husband knows, no curse like him should ever be able to feel.

Yet here he is, feeling every one of those, with his wife in his grasp.

You shake your head a second time; however, with greater force than before. "No. I knew I would be dying soon but I did not want to hear it from her. I wanted you to tell me that awful news, my king. I love you, I wanted you to say it. To confirm it."

You love him, so he must confirm your imminent death!?!?— Stunned by your odd words of reasoning, Sukuna gapes at you, dumbfounded; before he shakes himself free of the shock, discerning you to be three words, or even less, away from dissolving into your pathetic wails.

He smooths the top of your head with a palm, whilst another palm of his squeezes your hip, hoping the action will bring you some comfort. You place a small palm over the latter, voice growing shaky when you say, "Won't you confirm the terrible news, my lord?"

"No," Sukuna's quick to deny you in an instant, "Because I firmly don't believe you're anywhere close to dying. You're as healthy as a horse— or whatever idiotic creature, you humans use in your idiotic idioms."

A facsimile of a smile threatens to erupt onto your lips— it is vanished before the next second— with you crumbling into a mess of tears and snot, face pressed into his chest, whilst your fingers dig into his back.

Sukuna stifles a weary sigh, before wrapping his arms gingerly round your midsection, taking extra care not to jostle you or anything. "You aren't dying anytime soon, my Queen," he struggles to coo, but ends up grumbling, "I won't let you ever leave my side– you stupid woman. You're stuck with me forever– don't I always tell you that, my Queen?"

"You do, Sukuna," you mumble, with a weak nod of your head, "But I do feel so close to dying every moment of the day— so weak and so dizzy and so nauseous– even you've become so careful with me, my king!" you exclaim, red-rimmed swollen eyes glaring accusingly into every ruby eye of his.

Filling him with an addicting thrilling delight he has never felt before.

"You've always been so rough with me— Now, when you're being so gentle with me, out of nowhere, tell me: must the implication of you thinking me to be fragile, along with those awful symptoms– not be worrisome? Must I not think, you consider me to be near my death– hence, this newfound wariness? Hence, you, and even Uraume, who has always been so free to speak their mind before me– the both of you walking on stupid fucking eggshells around me– tell me, 'Kuna!"

A silence punctuates your outburst, filled only by the sounds of your noisy breathing– the latter replacing the sounds of your crying.— An odd yet not unpleasant, emotion taking over the shape of his mouth and curving it upwards, Sukuna drags a finger down your backbone, relishing in the way you shiver, then relax with a sigh under his touch.

Letting your temper to ebb away for another good minute, your lover inquires, keeping his tone void of anything except curiosity, "When is the last time you used your pain-relieving bath salts, pet?"

Your eyes blinking slowly, Sukuna watches them travel to the cabinet where you keep them stored in stacks, before returning to him, quite puzzled. And fatigued.

Adorably small yawns escaping, you murmur.

"I only use them when it's that time of month, which was..." Your eyes flutter open and close, painfully slowly, yet again— before they widen, becoming not unlike the full moon in the sky tonight.

You gasp, shaky fingers poking your belly before reaching a rest on it.

Covering them with his much larger ones, your lover hums, "Happy?"

"Not at all," you shake your head, reaching your other hand to trail the many tattoos on your husband's face, before stopping at the apple of his cheek.

Sukuna swears time ceases to exist in the momentary pause you take— restored only by the blinding beam you offer next, followed by your sweet voice uttering those words, he knows he'll remember for all the millennia he will live.

"I'm very, very happy— you dummy prehistoric curse."

▸ masterlist

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grudgecollector · 6 months ago

Text

Afterglow | Nam-gyu / American!Reader

You're reading part three

Story Summary: Nam-gyu gets a new job and finds himself falling for the girl behind the deli counter.

Words: 1.6k

Tags/Warnings: Canon divergence, Thanos lives, fluff, suggestive themes (no smut), implied smoking weed

A/N: This man has taken a over my whole BRAIN HELP ME

Also thank you guys for all the support on these past two parts because holy shit... YOU GUYS ARE CRAZY, so glad to know there's so many other Nam-gyu truthers amongst us.

This man is really getting me through whatever sickness shit I'm going through right now

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

There was a slight chance of snowfall today, it made you happy to know you wouldn’t have to return back to work for another day. Able to enjoy the chilly weather inside, cuddled up against Nam-gyu on his couch.

Your fingers mindlessly playing with one of his blankets thrown over the both of you. Listening to him and Su-bong playfully argue over what couple was going to last throughout the entire show.

“But they’re so annoying…” Your boyfriend commented, pointing at the screen a little as the two coupled contestants talked to each other on screen.

Nam-gyu groaned, running a hand over his face as Su-bong paused the show for what seemed like the fifth time. He stood up from his chair, putting his finger right over the female contestants face, a small smirk on his lips.

“You see that?” Su-bong said, pointing back and forth between the two people on screen.

“What are we looking at, dumbass?” Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, throwing his arm back over your shoulder as you leaned into him a little more. His fingers squeezed your bicep softly.

“Passion.” Su-bong whispered, “Look at the way she’s looking at him, she wants him sooo bad, bro.”

“They barely know each other!”

Days like these quickly became your favorite over the last eight months. Peaceful nights spent in the comfort of Nam-gyu and Su-bong’s apartment.

At first you worried that you were invading their personal space.

In the beginning it was clear that you were still not used to being with someone like this after your last, less than savory, relationship.

But Nam-gyu has been so sweet to you throughout your relationship, passionate words whispered in the darkness of his bedroom, leaving gentle kisses pressed on your knuckles before pulling you closer.

“What do you think?” Su-bong asked, directing his eyes to you, “Don’t they just seem so passionately in love to you?” He threads his fingers together in front of his chest, patiently awaiting your answer.

You laughed, “Honestly? No-”

“Wrong!” Su-bong interrupted, raising his hand, “You guys are so blind, come on!”

Nam-gyu and you laughed at Su-bong’s dramatics.

“You guys are useless. And that’s the truth.” The man standing in front of the tv ran a hand through his blue hair, letting out an exaggerated sigh before shaking his head.

Nam-gyu’s hand slipped from your bicep to your back, blunt nails scratching softly against your shirt. His head leaned against the back of the couch, listening to his friend continue to ramble on some more, occasionally unpausing the show to further attempt to prove his point.

“Dude… Just sit your ass down and watch the show already.” Nam-gyu sighed finally.

You softly push against his chest, “Hey he’s just really passionate about his reality tv couples.”

“Yeah, fuck you Nam-gyu.” Su-bong flipped him the bird playfully, earning one back from your boyfriend.

“Fuck you too Thanos.” Nam-gyu teased.

~~~

Nam-gyu bites his lip softly, smoothing over the weighted blanket before glancing over at his door. He felt so cold, his hands shaking a little from the bite of chilly air.

Maybe I smoked a little bit too much... He thought to himself

He brought his shaky hands up to tuck his hair behind his ears, moving to take his socks off.

Arms wound themselves around Nam-gyu’s waist, making him let out a little sigh. One hand securing itself on your forearm. A warmth spread through Nam-gyu’s chest, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. This truly had to be a dream.

He turned around slowly, hands finding their way to your cheeks, thumbs softly brushing against your skin, watching you blink up at him. He was sure that if it was possible he would have hearts in his eyes.

He was so hopelessly, and pathetically in love. This is real passion… Nam-gyu thought to himself.

Never in his life did Nam-gyu think he would feel such a way about someone. In the past his feelings were always so fleeting, leaving him within weeks, the stress of relationships straining his patience.

He was honestly scared to make things official at first, scared that things would end up being the same.

But after getting to know you as deeply as he has, he couldn’t see himself wanting to be with anyone else.

“I love you so much.” He whispered so softly, his eyes taking in every part of your face as he held you close.

Your fingers tightened around the waist of his hoodie, a small tearful smile coming to your lips.

“God, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laugh, bringing a hand to rub away a stray tear.

Nam-gyu knew all about your past relationship, the hardships you went through. It was a difficult time in your life, and you found it so hard to put yourself back out there afterwards. Sinking back into the shadows, hoping nobody looked twice in your direction.

You had been utterly terrified to get into another relationship when Nam-gyu proposed the idea. Simply asking for a date, a night together at some semi-fancy restaurant. He could feel how hard your hands shook when you grasped onto his that night, a nervous sweat forming on your palms which you quickly apologized for.

Selfishly, Nam-gyu was happy that you were just as scared as him.

Maybe it wasn’t for the same reason, but diving into something like this shook the man to his core. Terrified that at any second his happiness could be ripped from under him. Terrified that you would somehow find out about the horrible things he’s done.

But every time he looked into your beautiful eyes, those thoughts melted away. You made him forget how suffocating his life was.

His fingers smoothed away the teary trails, a smile spreading across his face.

“You’re just so beautiful too.” He continued, laughing softly at the small sob that fell from your lips, “So perfect…”

“Nam-gyu…” You whispered quietly, a small laugh coming from you as well, “Shut up.”

He cupped his hands back around your jaw, bringing you in for a soft kiss. He wasn’t bothered by the occasional tear that would slide against his skin.

Instead he brought you closer, pouring all of his unsaid words into you. One hand fell to your waist, pressing you flush against his body.

Both of your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him impossibly closer as your lips slotted together so perfectly. Soft sighs leaving the both of you.

Nam-gyu felt like he could kiss you for the rest of his life, your lips were so soft, teeth biting against his bottom lip forcing a small moan from his mouth.

You were going to be the death of him, he knew it.

His hand tightened itself on your waist, brows drawing together as he felt his whole body begin to heat up under your touch. He disconnected your lips, trailing kisses from your cheek to your jaw, nipping every now and then as he got closer to your neck.

You tilted your head back a little, allowing him better access as he left open mouthed kisses against your warm skin. His thumb caressed your throat gently as he bit down a little harder near your the collar of your shirt, forcing a small whimper from your parted lips.

“Nam-gyu…” You sighed out his name, making his heart flutter in his chest.

He lifted his head, staring at you with lidded eyes and a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips, “So… you sure you still want to go to sleep?” He teased, thumb trailing along your bottom lip.

“Get on the bed already, dick.”

~~~

“Morning, lovebirds.” Su-bong winked as he made his way into the kitchen, going up to the fridge and grabbing the carton of orange juice.

You looked up from your phone, readjusting your feet under Nam-gyu’s thigh. The both of you were sitting next to each other at the small dining table, enjoying the snowy morning together, quietly scrolling through your phones.

“Morning.” Nam-gyu yawned, bringing another spoonful of cereal into his mouth absentmindedly.

Su-bong turned around, looking up from his cup of orange juice, “So what’s going on to- Holy fuck!” He cut himself off.

He rushed over to his friend, forcing Nam-gyu’s head to the side, and jabbing a finger into one of the prominent bruises you left just above his collarbone by accident. Oops… you thought to yourself, laughing a little.

“Was she trying to suck the life out of you, bro?” Su-bong looked between the two of you with wide eyes.

Nam-gyu slapped his hand away, a small chuckle coming from him. “That’s nothing, you should see the one I left on her-” You slapped his shoulder, making him laugh harder.

“You guys are nasty as fuck.” Su-bong scolded, shaking his head in disappointment.

You knew better than to take his jabs seriously. Su-bong brought home a new girl every other week, if not more.

Sometimes you were unfortunate enough to be in the apartment when those moments would occur. Making it so you and Nam-gyu have to turn the volume to his TV up a lot louder than you liked. Just so you could drown out the god awful sounds that float through the horribly thin walls of his apartment.

“Oh please, like you can say anything.” Nam-gyu rolled his eyes, “You’re like a fucking horny dog sometimes.”

“What can I say? I can’t keep the girls off of me, man.” Su-bong plopped himself down in the seat across from Nam-gyu. “Anyway, what I was going to say… What’s going on today?”

#squid game #squid game x reader #squid game reader insert #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu #nam gyu imagine #nam gyu reader insert #violet writes

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beansprean · 1 year ago

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time for exposition? no, time to look at him in his cute new outfit!

My Familiar’s Ghost Part 66

Masterpost

See new pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Wide shot of vampire Guillermo sitting on a couch for a talking head. He is wearing black chinos, a red v-neck knit sweater with gold threading around the cuffs and neck, a gray and white button up with a heart pattern, black bat-shaped collar clips with gold trim and a gold chain, and new round glasses with gold arms and nose bridge. The lower third reads "Guillermo de la Cruz" with 'de la Cruz' crossed out followed by "The Great, New Vampire." Guillermo grins widely at the camera, fangs on full display, and holds his hands out in a ta-da pose. He says, "Sooo... I'm a vampire! For real!! I can fly, I can turn into a bat, and I even got to move into a real bedroom! Guillermo the Great is excited to get started on eternity!" 1b. Repeat, smaller panel. Guillermo sits with a giddy little smile, fists clenched excitedly over his lap, as he listens to the director offscreen who asks "So you don't have any memories of what your body was doing while you were separated?" 1c. Repeat. Guillermo drops his hands to his thighs and looks upward, smile turning a bit self-depreciating. He answers, "Um. No... I assume it was a lot of slaughtering, so. No loss, right?" 1d. Large panel, Guillermo waist-up in the bottom corner as his gaze goes far away, smile still in place but a little bit sad. Slightly embarrassed. He says, "I remember doing the ritual with Nadja and... reaching out... and then I don't know. I think I was dreaming. I woke up in the fancy room and... I was back! And a vampire!" Behind him are faded flashes of previous events: Nadja and Dolly sitting at the table while they explain the ritual; Guillermo and his soul reaching hands out to each other; Guillermo and his soul, who has taken the form of Nandor, pressing their palms together; the traffic light smashing to the ground and turning red; Guillermo pulling Nandor up into a kiss.

2a. Zoom out, Guillermo sitting on the couch. Offscreen, the director asks, "You don't think you're a ghost possessing a vampire?" Guillermo quickly straightens, head popping up and fingers lacing together over his lap. He replies, "I considered that! But possession feels different. When I was possessing objects in the house, it was like putting on a coat. I was me inside something else." 2b. Close up on Guillermo, the background turning into a softer version of his ghostly blue. He presses both hands to his chest and closes his eyes with a contented smile, continuing, "Now, I feel...complete." 2c. Zoom out again, angle slightly further left. Guillermo furrows his brow with a slight frown, one hand dropping to his lap and the other gesturing vaguely in the air as he explains, "I didn't realize how much not having a soul empties you out. But I've reconnected to it now, somehow, and to...um. Well." 2d. Close up on Guillermo as the director offscreen finishes his sentence: "Nandor?" Guillermo glowers darkly in response, shadows taking over his face as the background turns into rolling black clouds with angry strikes of lightning. /end ID

#wwdits #my familiars ghost #nandermo #mlm #vampire guillermo #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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moonlitbeth · 2 months ago

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the Death and Rebirth update yapping, y'all! you're welcome to join in the comments 🐦‍⬛

so... with so many players now sprinting through the lore and main story chapters (myself included), i guess it's perfect time to indulge in a little speculation session abt tomorrow’s update.

first of all i'm sooo glad we're getting a full main story update instead of a separate branch. the only thing here is no free 5-star card (and tbh, most of us were waiting for a green one). but that's at least balanced out by the fact that major updates are now released a bit more frequently than once every 6 months. hopefully, this trend continues (given some rumors, next story updates might be dropped within 2 months). lads really feels the most exciting when the main plot is moving forward, no back-to-back banner mayhem match that energy.

action, drama, and that damn entrance it's pretty clear that we're so in for action-packed storylines. that trailer is absolutely big-screen material. the shift toward more dynamic animated scenes is noticeable and very welcome. esp when it comes to Sylus. the boss-man is finally back nearly a year after his debut.

and how can we ignore that entrance? the man never shows up quietly, always so dramatic and effortless (just like in his intro in LAR). i'm hoping what we saw in the pv isn't all we'll get cutscene-wise since there'll be 2 chapters per LI. it's also possible that the devs might've changed their approach to how they deliver the main story content. tho don't let me get too excited, this fandom loves being delusional.

in angst we trust judging by the Death and Rebirth title, we're sure as hell getting our heavy dose of angst (which i've honestly been craving lately). we've had our fluff therapy over the past couple of months, now it's payback time. and knowing infold, it's going to hurt. i also bet everything i have that the whole "memory return" thing will revolve around MC, not Sylus or Zayne. those chapter descriptions basically scream it.

the Timelock Key event as for the alongside event, there's a solid chance we'll get LIs' POV into their past. last night, while rereading LAR for the umpteenth time (don't judge me), i had this thought – what if we get a deeper dive into Sylus' backstory? like the stuff briefly touched on in World Underneath (Mischief/Elysium timelines), his early years on Earth, his path leading to meeting MC, his POV mid-LAR (this man had a breakdown, ok?), or his absence in the N109 Zone earlier. maybe even small pieces from his anecdote? there's so much potential here, and i hope his team keeps delivering that peak writing. i'm just eager for some analysis fuel.

Eye of Aether and more hints damn, those visuals!

this one is just adding more fuel to the fire for the theory that the Eye of Aether is deeply connected to Sylus. maybe we'll finally get some answers... or another batch of cryptic clues. personally, i think this is one of the most intriguing mysteries in both the core lore and Sylus' story. but as usual, we're only getting crumbs.

and then there's another pic. this one clearly references the abandoned chapel from the limited myth. and i love the gothic vibe (i instantly started thinking abt the next myth, but more on that later). plus, perhaps it's just me, but that specific image radiates loneliness – a sense of forced isolation and unwanted solitude, idk. i'm probably overthinking it. and Sylus' silhouette here is definitely not the one referencing his dragon myth. which means we might be getting a current tl perspective with reflections on the past.

foreshadowing? yes, please now onto the part i'm most excited abt.

every major story update is obviously the devs' chance to tie up previous clues and core narrative threads – all those crucial points and chekhov’s guns finally go off. but that's not all, what abt foreshadowing? it's the best time to start teasing future updates, esp when it comes to new limited myths. with Sylus' character development tempo and the timing of his content, i wouldn't be surprised to see hints of what his next myth could look like. i'm still betting on his anecdote tl. a cosmic conqueror with the Robin Hood agenda? sign me up. this kind of limited companion and setup both have insane potential. and going back to that gothic visual from the new event – what if we get a gothic/futuristic Sylus in his myth style-wise? i'm just widely speculating atp, but it sounds so good.

final thoughts to sum this up, i really hope y'all catching up on the story (or in the middle of it), cuz tomorrow's going to hit us hard. also, don't forget to manage your phone/tablet storage and clear space.

and just be ready for whatever is waiting for us there 🐦‍⬛

#love and deepspace sylus #sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #l&ds sylus #lads sylus #yapping time is here again #so buckle up folks 🐦‍⬛

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gatorbites-imagines · 19 days ago

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Going off anon bc i wanna get notifs to be less paranoid idk DAMNIT I KNEW IT GOT EATEN IT ALWAYS HAPPENS ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡ tumblr hates me ,,

Sooo my request was um . sfw headcanons for Angstrom x soft tboy reader (soft in both ,, physical and mental sense <33) . Preferably post-canon if you've read the comics, like after he actually starts getting his shit back together when he moves back to the og universe? Maybe having reader to help him through it, getting used to living a normal life again and helping him feel better about his body AND LIKE GENERALLY WITH HIS MENTAL HEALTH <//3 idk he just. Deserves a big tiddy boyfriend to lay on instead of getting kidnapped and tortured and killed -_-

Feel free to take your time with this ask!! Ik he's a very uhm. Unusual character to write for </3 btw ill send this twice just to make sure it goes through TwT

Angstrom levy x ftm reader

Headcanons

Love this man and his big ass fivehead. Im getting my T injection next week, and my body hurts at having to spend almost 200 dollars for my injection, being a boy is expensive,,,

I've been tickling my Naruto interest again,,, I just like some of the funky guys in it, a bit too much,,,

You guys have been partners for a long time. If Angstrom has his son this this verse, then its up to you if hes yours, or if you guys got together after Angstrom had his son.

You two are kinda divorced at this point? Since he went pretty coocoo for cocoa puffs, and divorced you to act out his plans. A split mind like his doesn't really leave room for a partner and love.

Some part of his mind did know that he didn't want you to be in danger though, so he pretty much just walks out on you with divorce papers drawn up and all that.

You would obviously be crushed by this, but also know that Angstrom was hanging on by a single thread, and you would know him enough to see through his meaner words and erratic behavior.

So yeah, it hurts a lot, but you also don't do anything with the papers, but its like, in the system and all that, ya know?

I can see all of this making you spiral as well, being more vulnerable mentally and all that, but you try to stay positive. Keeping up with the news, and also for any signs of Angstrom.

I believe it takes a while for him to come back, and to start coming back to himself.

When Angstrom does gather himself again, he's so ashamed and crushed about his actions, and how he left you the way he did. He also doesn't want to go back, in fear of how you will react when you see him.

Instead of being snatched up the way he is in the comics, Angstrom can't help himself and teleports to your shared home, just to see you, or so he tells himself. Angstrom's mind is still a mess, but seeing you makes his entire being warm up.

I can see him hovering around for a while, just to “make sure you are safe” and all that, he cant get himself to leave, as Angstrom yearns to be with you again.

You are still trying to live your life, even if you miss your husband so much, and there are times you swear you can feel his presence but when you look there is nothing, and it just makes you feel more down in the dumps.

You sleep wearing his old clothes, or spray his deodorant on his pillow to cuddle it because you miss him so much. It feels pathetic, even to you, but you can't help it, and when Angstrom realizes this, he feels himself start melting.

I don't think anything specific happens that is what makes him finally come home. One night Angstrom just can't take it anymore, and can't keep telling himself that he has to stay away.

So, when you are asleep, Angstrom teleports into your room, and slides into the bed on his side. He is too scared to touch you for a good while, just lying there and looking at you.

But at some point, he finds himself lulled in by your warmth and the love he has for you.

Angstrom ends up spooning you, arms wrapped around you and face resting against your shoulder as he half sleeps. Hes still too cautious and wound up to really sleep, but this is the closest he's been in who knows how long.

When you wake up you almost think you are dreaming when you smell and feel him. You immediately want to turn around and kiss him, tears gathering in your eyes and lip wobbling.

But Angstrom is too scared of what you will think when you see him. He looks so different and feels so different, what if you wont love him or even like him anymore?

But you two talk, and you let out little hiccups from happy tears at him being back. Angstrom starts to crack and melt when you pick up his hands and start kissing them, just happy to have him back.

When you finally convince him to let you turn around, Angstrom tenses and looks off at the wall. He knows what he looks like, and he knows what others think when they see him.

But imagine his surprise when you just let out a watery little giggle and crawl into his arms, starting to pepper kisses all over his face.

Angstrom is tense for a few moments before he just sighs loudly and slumps against you, his kisses clumsy in ways they werent before, but still as loving and hungry.

You can only snicker and laugh when Angstrom rolls you guys over so he can cuddle against you, burying his face in your chest and letting you hold him, his hands grabbing onto your softer parts, as he sighs and melts against you.

Angstrom doesn't like talking about it, what happened and what he had planned, but he does let you know of a few things, and he's excited to show you his powers.

But most of the time is spent cuddling and kissing, and just being near each other after so long.

Perhaps you died in most universes, killed by evil versions of Invincible, which is what fueled Angstrom as much as it did, but its also what makes him cling to you more now, than he did before.

Your softness, both physically and mentally also helps keep him above water, and pull him back to the surface when he starts floating out too far. You help soften all his new sharp edges.

It does result in you guys being under watch... pretty much all the time now. Well, Angstrom can warp away anyone and thing that does, when you guys want to be alone, so there's that.

But yeah... somebody, and we all know who, will want to keep an eye on your husband from now on.

#male reader #invincible #ftm reader #angstrom levy #invincible x reader #invincible x male reader #invincible x ftm reader #angstrom levy x reader #angstrom levy x male reader #angstrom levy x ftm reader

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facewithoutheart · 1 year ago

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I hurt myself thinking of Simon and Baz adopting a kid. Simon’s nervous, maybe it’s sort of spur of the moment. They’ve been planning for awhile (Baz has sooo many books; he’s reading them with Penny whereas Simon likes to sits with Daphne and Lady Ruth to hear their firsthand experience) but when the call comes you’re never prepared. Penny’s got a checklist and she’s calling out items while Simon packs the car. Meanwhile Baz is updating the group chat and yelling, “You don’t need seven sandwiches, Simon! It’s only a thirty minute car ride!” And Simon and Penny echo back, “It’s on the list, Baz!” But they eventually manage to get packed and on the road, waving back at Penny who’s going to the market to pick up essentials on their other checklist.

Simon drives to where they’re meant to pick up their child, steady hands under pressure and all that, and Baz drums his fingers on his thigh until Simon reaches over and threads their hands together. “It’s going to be fine,” he says, and Baz wants to argue that Simon looks like he’s five seconds from shitting his pants. Baz squeezes Simon’s hand instead.

They do eventually make the handover, sign the paperwork, and then it’s the two of them, packing their child into the car seat (Simon wrangles while Baz calls out instructions). “Gentle, gentle!” Baz reminds Simon and Simon wants to bang a fist against his own head in frustration but then he hears that word again. Gentle. And he gives that to himself as well.

It’s a quiet ride home. “Calm before the storm,” Baz jokes, his eyes ever on the precious bundle strapped in behind him, and Simon swallows his lips in a strained smile.

“I’ll take first watch,” Simon says, after they’ve managed food, diapers, and a strangely quiet child given all the change and emotional upheaval circling around them.

There’s something twitchy about Simon’s offer but Baz chalks it up to new fatherhood jitters. He should argue; maybe he should stay up first given his experience babysitting his siblings, but he’s exhausted and sticky. Besides, these days Simon babysits as often as Baz. He trusts Simon, and displaying that trust goes a long way toward Simon feeling it for himself. So he kisses their child on the forehead, then Simon, then his child again, then, “Stop, stop,” Simon laughs, swatting away Baz’s insistent lips, “we’ll be fine. I’ll call you on the monitor if we need anything.”

“Okay,” Baz frowns, and then he subjects his family to another round of kisses, just in case.

It’s three in the morning when Baz hears it: a stifled sob over the monitor, distinctly adult in nature.

Simon.

Baz walks softly to the nursery. He finds Simon in the rocking chair, their child pressed to his bare chest. Tears stream down Simon’s face.

“Love, what’s—”

“I just got her,” Simon says. “Less than twelve hours ago. I just got her.”

Baz reaches out his arms, a move Simon misinterprets. He holds the baby tighter to his chest.

“No, no. Don’t you see? I just got her. And I can’t,” Simon hiccups, “I can’t imagine giving her up.” He looks up at Baz. “I love her. I just got her and I love her and she’s mine and I can’t, I can’t…”

This time, when Baz stretches out his arms Simon moves to give up the baby but Baz clicks his tongue and pulls them both in his arms. “It’s okay, little puff,” he says, kissing Simon’s cheek before the baby’s. “I’ve got you, now.”

#snowbaz #drabble #adoption #childhood trauma #sometimes in loving others we learn just how much love we’ve missed #but we still keep loving #and loving #because one day it will be returned #I promise

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winxanity-ii · 5 months ago

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⌜Knot in Time | Chapter 00 Chapter 00 | Blurb⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: Knowledge of EPIC: The Musical isn't technically needed; this can be read with just common knowledge of Greek mythology.

❝Stay.❞

It was a whisper, barely spoken, but it hit like a blade to the ribs.

Your breath shuddered.

His eyes glistened, unshed tears pooling at the edges, his emotions raw and unmasked.

❝Stay by my side,❞ he breathed, his voice cracking. ❝For the rest of time.❞

Your fingers twitched at your sides.

You shouldn't hesitate.

You'd spent your existence moving forward without question, without pause; always knowing what must be done.

But here, in the silence of the Loom, with his hands pressed to your skin, with his plea hanging between you like an offering, you realized—

You'd never had a choice before.

Fate wasn't something you chose.

It was something that is.

Yet here was Telemachus, asking you, the one who wields the shears, the one who had ended lives without question, to defy everything you are—

To choose him.

..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....

To cut a thread is simple.

To leave one uncut is chaos.

But for the first time in eternity, you don't care.

You were born to sever lives, to keep fate in motion. Never to hesitate. Never to choose.

Until him.

Telemachus, son of Odysseus—warrior, prince, and the man whose thread should have been cut weeks ago.

A single hesitation. A single choice.

But here's the truth no one ever considered:

Even the Fates were woven from something; and maybe—just maybe—they, too, can unravel.

..... ... ..... ━━━━━━━☆☆━━━━━━━ ..... ... .....

╭─↬ ❗𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆❗ ↫─╮ There will be mentions/descriptive scenes of the following:

╭ ⁞ ❏. Death ┊

🔺 Reader Discretion Advised.

Lol, I don't know if I got them all, so if you see anything I didn't list, come back and comment right here so I can add them to the list later ➡

Also, before you start, if you're new here, welcome! But if you're a returning reader/came from my other books, hi babies 🥹❤️ Enjoy (•͈˽•͈)

A/N: SCREECHING, SOBBING, THROWING MYSELF INTO THE SEA—WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!?

Y'ALL. TWO. BOOKS. OVER. 100K. VIEWS. ON WATTPAD. WTF. WTF. WTF.

THIS IS NOT REAL LIFE.

Wattpad was literally the first platform I ever read and wrote on—like, baby me was out here devouring fanfics and original works at 2AM on a cracked phone screen, practically vibrating from excitement every time I found a good fic.

And now?? NOW I HAVE TWO BOOKS THAT PASSED 100K READS???? ON THE VERY PLATFORM THAT MADE ME FALL IN LOVE WITH STORYTELLING?!?!?

Y'all are too much. TOO. MUCH. (And by too much, I mean I love you all deeply and will fight Zeus himself for you.)

So, as a tiny thank-you for all the love and chaos, I present to you: "A Knot in Time"—a 10-chapter short story I finished weeks ago featuring Telemachus and a Fate-who-should-not-love-but-does-anyway.

It's slow-burn, introspective, and built on steady, lingering tension, because I wanted to write romance the way I personally understand it. Sooo if you're the type who likes instant love, jumping straight into things, and getting to the spice ASAP... yeah, this fic ain't it, bestie (but no worries, I have projects in the drafts more up that lane). 💀💀

But if you're here for a Greek-myth style tragedy-turned-love story about a man who should have died and the woman who was meant to end him... buckle in.

Hope y'all enjoy. And thank you, again, for making my inner bookworm FREAK THE HELL OUT. 🖤

Also, I'm working on a new update for both 'Know No Evil' and 'Godly Things' and oh! Y'all are in for a ride 😮‍💨

#xani-writes: knot in time #x reader #epic the musical fanfic #jorge rivera herrans #the ocean saga #epic the musical x reader #greek mythology #greek gods #the odyssey #telemachus of ithaca #telemachus x reader #telemachus x fate #telemachus x fem reader #reader insert #slow burn #telemachus

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katewritesthings · 1 year ago

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Love Me Like I Can // Chapter 2

Chapter 2 // How to Touch a Girl

•warnings: Cursing. Cheating. Sexual Situations. Drinking. Drug use. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

The first time Diana woke up the morning after her birthday was actual torture, she was sure. The need to empty her bladder caused her to wake far earlier than she would have liked, early morning light barely making it through the blackout curtains that decorated her bedroom. The redhead carefully disentangled herself from the limbs of her sister and friend and climbed out of bed, grabbing her phone from beside her on the bed. Making her way to the ensuite bathroom, Diana immediately regretted unlocking her device for two reasons. First the dull ache in her head made itself known the second the light hit her eyes in contrast to the dark bathroom. 6:21 AM . Second, was a series of text messages from a number not saved to her phone that she decided could wait before she absolutely exploded. After washing her hands and splashing cold water on her face, Diana braced herself and opened the text thread.

+1(617)-555-1425 9:36 PM you look sooo good in your IG pics 11:15 PM ugh i wish i was with you rn 12:20 AM cmon di. dont be a btich text me back 1:37 AM Ungrateful bitch. 2:39 AM i see. youre out there fuckin with someone new. Thats wh you wont text me back. He’ll just get bored of you like I did. 2:41 AM How long before he starts fucking yor sister

Disappointed that the Boston area code and the content of messages meant the sender was clear, Diana quickly locked her phone and dropped it on the counter. She couldn’t deal with Connor right now. Leaving her phone in the bathroom, Diana crawled back into bed, thankful that she insisted on a “sleepover” last night and wasn’t alone to spiral.

The second time Diana woke up was slightly better than the first. She was alone in bed and her headache eased to a dull thumping, a glass of water on her bedside table. Emptying the glass in one go, Diana searched for her phone. A string of curses rang through her head when she remembered the reason that it was not beside her. After a dramatic sigh, she forced herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She turned on the light, looked in the mirror for the first time that day, and groaned out loud. Light reddish-purple bruises littering her neck and collarbone were visible under the sports bra she was wearing.

Annoyed with herself, Diana picked up her phone and checked the time: 12:12 PM. When she unlocked the device the messages from Connor were still open on the screen. While the reason for his vitriol was now apparent, clues painted on her skin, it didn’t make it justified. ‘It wasn’t like I had sex with Joe,’ she thought, ‘ And even if I had, I’m single and can fuck who I want.

Diana blocked the number but kept the text thread to show Biz later and moved on to check her other notifications, some birthday wishes from people who couldn't make it last night and a missed call from Cathy at 9:30. Diana decided could give her manager a call back later and was replying to all of the messages and comments as she walked into the kitchen of the apartment she shared with her sister.

Biz, who was standing at the stove cooking bacon and French toast, spoke as Diana walked in eyes glued to her phone. “Gooood Morning beautiful, Happy actual birthday,” the younger woman sang in a joking manner. “Taylor left, she had to catch a flight for the awards tonight.” She paused a minute before excitedly saying, “There was a delivery for you this morning.”

Diana looked up at her last statement, confused even more at the smirk on the brunette’s face. “What delivery?”

Biz didn't respond except for pointing her spatula towards the living room, signaling Diana to investigate. Rolling her eyes, Diana did as she was told, walking farther down the hall to figure out what her sister was talking about.

She was not expecting multiple bouquets of roses placed in every nook and cranny they would fit to be decorating the living room. “What the fuck,” she muttered to herself, making her way toward the largest bouquet on the coffee table in the center of the room, silently counting the number of arrangements. Nine.

‘What a strange number,’ she thought as she picked up the card attached to the large bundle of roses, looking out of place on the coffee table next to her TV remote.

Tried to get your number Cathy with no luck. Now who’s curving who? 513-555-6947 JB

Warmth filled Diana’s body as she reread the card for the third time, trying to make sense of it. Pulling up Cathy’s contact information on her phone and pressing call, she turned to see Bizz in the doorway smiling like the Cheshire Cat.

“Soooo… who are those from?” Her tone gave her away, she already read the card.

“Fuck off,” Diana mouthed just as Cathy answered her phone, turning back to the flowers. “Cathy Allred,” the older woman answered cheerfully. “Hey, Cath, this is Di. I was just giving you a call back and wondering if you knew why there were 10 gigantic floral arrangements in my living room?” Diana greeted, attempting to keep her annoyance at her sister out of her voice.

Cathy’s throaty laugh came through the speaker and Di could imagine her expression was the same one that Biz was wearing. “Oh, honey. That handsome football player from last night was leaving messages at the buttcrack of dawn trying to weasel your number out of me. When I told him that I couldn’t clear that without your direct consent, he asked if he could send flowers to our office and have them forwarded to you if security approved the message. We just didn’t expect 9 separate bouquets.”

Diana was in shock. She couldn’t remember the last time she had received flowers unrelated to work.

“Well, uh, thank you, Cathy. That’s all I wanted. I’ll talk to you Wednesday,” Diana ended the phone call, still staring blankly at the literal dozens of roses sitting in her house. “Soooooo,” Biz’s voice came out in her signature sing-songy tone. “Are ya gonna text him?”

Diana bit her lip. “Well, I guess I should, right?”

She could feel her anxiety creeping up in the back of her mind, almost like frost crystallizing on glass in the winter. The first voices of self-doubt were beginning to scream you’re not good enough for him and he’s only going to break your heart when a hand on Diana’s shoulder refocused her.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Di,” Biz’s comforting words filled her ears. “He’s a really hot guy who is into you, so I’d say go for it. Texting him doesn’t mean you’re getting married next month, babe. But you were humping his leg like a dog in heat last night, so it probably would be proper etiquette to at least acknowledge his existence.” As was exiting the room laughing at her own joke as she said the last part. Diana rolled her eyes and thought about her sister’s advice. Joe really was an attractive man and all signs were pointing to him being attracted to her. Their physical chemistry last night had been off the charts and even though they didn’t discuss anything super deep, she was engrossed in the conversation, always wanting to hear what Joe had to say next. She was going to do it, she was going to text him.

She added his number to her phone and began debating how to start the conversation. After drafting and redrafting the generic ‘Hi! It’s Diana” messages for nearly two minutes, she finally settled on one that would let Joe know who she was.

Joe (Quarterback) 12:32 PM you left before saying bye last night, i’d say you’re still curving me.

Phone in hand, Diana made her way toward the smell of brunch. Before she could even make it to the breakfast nook her phone buzzed in her hands signifying she had received a text.

Tee wasn’t feeling great, I had to dash. Let me make it up to you. I’m in NYC until Monday night.

Butterflies filled Diana’s stomach as her eyes scanned the messages she had just received. Joe didn’t leave the party because he was embarrassed by their hookup like her anxiety had been trying to convince her. He had a legitimate reason and he wanted to see her again to make up for it. Before she could let her nerves stop her, she fired off a reply to Joe

i’ll hold you to it. 😜 i’m free all day tomorrow.

Diana didn’t even get a chance to lock her phone before a new message appeared on her screen.

Not anymore. Lunch?

She wasn’t sure if it was nerves or hunger making her stomach turn the way it was, so she decided to load up her plate before responding.

After eating a decent amount of brunch and taking a well-needed shower, Diana was lounging in her bed, Parks and Recreation on in the background, staring at Joe’s texts. So many conflicting thoughts were running through her head about what her response should be. As much as she wanted to see Joe again, she couldn’t shake the feeling of fear. Sure Joe seemed nice, but Connor seemed nice enough at first. She knew her ex had just sent the hateful texts to get under skin, but he knew which blows hit the hardest.

“Biiiiiiz! Come in here!” she shouted from her spot on the bed, in a frustrated squeal.

“What’s the matter?” The brunette questioned, popping her head through the door. “I think I agreed to hang out with Joe tomorrow and I’m scared,” Diana whined, dragging out the vowels in the word ‘scared’.

A snort came from Biz as she made her way fully into the room. “He’s a man, Di, not a monster. Why are you scared?”

Diana knew this was the moment that she should share that Connor had texted her this morning, but for some reason, she couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. Instead, what came out was a pitiful gasp for air that made Biz by surprise.

“Just, what if I’m supposed to be more healed than I am,” Diana breathed, tears in her eyes. “Like, what if Joe turns out to be as good as he seems? Doesn’t he deserve more than this heartbroken version of me? I’m barely myself again, Biz.”

“I think you should at least hang out with him and see where it goes. Worst comes to worst, you guys know you’re physically into each other,” Biz teased. Diana rolled her eyes, “What if he’s expecting to fuck and I’m not ready?” Biz shot her sister a look. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Di. But let’s be real, you need to get dicked down. How long has it been?” Diana rolled her eyes again, not wanting to acknowledge she was currently on the longest dry spell she’d ever had. Things in the bedroom aspect of her relationship with Connor never really met her standards, always dissatisfied. The past six months of their relationship had consisted of barely any intimacy, Connor claiming he wasn’t attracted to Diana at the moment. Turns out, he was just getting his needs met by her best friend. “You’re right,” Diana gave in, texting Joe back.

1:26 PM deal, burrow. tomorrow at noon. Italian or Mexican? Shit. Just got word that public restaurants are a no-go. its okay. we can do pizza and sweets at my place

A new fear ran through Diana’s head as soon as she heard the “swoosh” sound from her head. “What if-” Diana was cut off by her sister throwing a pillow at her face. “Shut up,” Biz said in a more serious tone than before. “I get that you’re nervous, but stop coming up with these what-ifs. Smoke about it and attempt to channel your thoughts into something productive.” With that, Biz left the room.

Diana knew her sister was right. Not only did she tend to handle her anxiety better if she was channeling it into something productive, but she was behind on writing. Cathy had told her that the songwriters she was meeting with on Wednesday were expecting the start of at least six new songs and at this point, Diana only had four songs, three of which were fragments.

Lighting a preroll from her bedside table, Diana reached for her notebook, anxiety still at full force. As she hit the joint, she began to scribble down the thoughts that were looping in her head in an attempt to get them to stop.

I know that I’m better than this heartbroken version of me What if he can't compete with the things that I'm scared of that keep love from me? I get so attached and when it ends and the comedown hits I just end up hating me The energy that it takes to be somebody’s somebody just ain’t in me.

After she had stubbed out her joint, the voice of Diana’s anxiety had dulled to a whisper and her mood had lifted considerably. When Diana looked up from her notebook and checked her phone she saw two new messages from Joe.

Awesome. Can’t wait to see you.

What are you up to?

Smiling to herself, her fingers glided across the screen to type out that she was writing, hoping it could turn into a song and returning the question. Joe must have had his phone in hand because within record time her phone was signaling a new message.

Just left lunch with the guys, can I call you?

The butterflies from earlier had returned with a vengeance accompanied by a warm flush taking over her body. Within seconds of replying with an affirmative text, her phone was ringing in her hand indicating she was receiving a FaceTime call from Joe. “Hello,” she greeted hesitantly, internally cringing at her appearance in the camera. Her long hair was still wet from the shower and braided into Dutch braids down the side of her head and she had placed two star pimple patches on her forehead and chin, not expecting to see anyone but Biz. “Hey! You look great,” Joe responded, white smile beaming at Diana. He appeared to be sitting against a hotel headboard, dressed in a black Bengals hoodie.

“No one likes a liar, Joe,” Diana smiled. “Wasn’t expecting a video call.”

“I just needed to make sure you were who you said you were,” Joe countered, smile turning into a playful grin. “Can’t be making plans to hang out with some rando, you know.” Diana rolled her eyes and placed her notebook on her bedside table, the action drawing Joe’s attention. “I’m sure girls are tripping over their own feet to eat lunch with you,” Diana let out a small laugh. “Unfortunately for you, I am myself and you have agreed to hang out with me. Now, if you’ll agree after this time, that’s a question for another day.” “Oh, yeah. What makes you say that?” Joe quirked an eyebrow, a grin still covering his beautiful mouth.

“Well, first of all, we’re getting pineapple on our pizza. Second of all, I planned on finishing my puzzle tomorrow, so you’re now getting roped into that.”

Laughter filled the speakers before Joe’s voice said, “Well, first things first, pineapple on pizza is the right decision… But a puzzle, really? What are you, 73?”

Diana was pleasantly surprised at the ease of carrying on a conversation with Joe. She had assumed that alcohol had lubricated their last interaction, but the way the conversation flowed for the next hour proved that wrong. Joe teasing her for doing puzzles led them to talk about their other hobbies which led to them talking about what started them on their careers.

“Yeah, so I’m hoping to be back by preseason, but there’s no guarantee. I just feel like I’m letting the team and the fans down, y’know,” Joe finished explaining his injury, something Diana had known the bare minimum about before this conversation. Rubbing the back of his neck, he looked to the side. “Sorry to overwhelm you.”

“No, please don’t ever apologize for sharing your emotions, Joe. You can’t hold everything in because you’re afraid of being judged.” Diana’s heart tugged for a moment, imagining how Joe must feel after the season he had last year. She wanted to make sure he knew that she was someone he could share with even if this went nowhere.

“Okay,” Joe nodded, but still changing the subject, “So, what about you? Any new music I get to look forward to?”

Diana rolled her eyes but smiled. Connor was never interested in her career, implying that the music his band made was better and more meaningful. It felt nice to have someone who wasn’t her sister inquire about the progress she was making on her new album. “Actually, I have a few writing sessions over the next few weeks with my label and some producers and start recording some new stuff in March. We’re planning on turning the EP into an extended into a standard album” “Oh, yeah? Do you have a lot of material?” Joe asked, seeming genuinely interested in the answer. “Uh, actually, I didn’t. I’ve been writing a lot recently, though, so hopefully..” Diana trailed off, hoping the heat on her cheeks didn’t show up on Joe’s end of the video call. It was embarrassing enough to admit to herself that she had been more inspired since Joe appeared in her life than she had been in six years, but she’d die if he figured it out.

After a few more minutes of talking, one of Joe’s teammates knocked on his door causing Joe to get off the phone. They had been on the phone for an hour, but Diana was sure she could have talked to him for three more. Diana spent the rest of her night watching the Grammys on her couch. Diana’s team still thought it was best if she stayed home this year as Connor’s band was up for nomination and they wanted to avoid as many headlines about the two as they could. They insisted that Diana stream from home and interact with fans while the awards were happening, which worked out okay in her book. She had fun posting on her Instagram stories rooting for the artist she was friends or a fan of, secretly rejoicing when Bedford Scrolls lost the award they were up for. The fact that she was able to hang out with Joe because she stayed home was definitely, absolutely, not the main reason.

—-----------------------------

If there is one thing that will never change about Diana Hayes, it’s that she’s not a morning person. Or a “before 1 PM” person, really. So when her alarm went off at 10 this morning, she wanted to press snooze with everything in her being. That was until she actually looked at her phone and noticed the text notifications on her home screen. She had the normal business updates in her team group chat, but that wasn’t the one that caught Diana’s attention.

Joe (Quarterback) 7:01 AM Is there a specific dress code today?

A smile crossed Diana’s lips, relieved that he wasn’t canceling on her. Tapping a reply out on her phone, she got out of bed and headed towards her bathroom.

10:02 AM whatever you’re comfortable in. i plan on restarting game of thrones today.

Diana busied herself by turning on her shower and adjusting the water temperature before her phone buzzed on the counter.

Sweats it is.

Good choice on shows. Don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m King In The North 😉

Diana responded with an eye roll emoji before telling Joe she would see him at noon and entering the shower. She took her time in the shower, excitement bubbling in her stomach at the uncertainty of what the afternoon held. It had been ages since she had been on a first date, if this even was one, she wasn’t sure what protocol was anymore.

An hour and twenty minutes, one pair of shaved legs, and a fight with a hair dryer later Diana was freaking out. Joe would be here in less than an hour and she was regretting everything. He’s going to make fun of me, Diana thought to herself, he’s going to come over, think I’m weird, and then make fun of me to his friends. Adjusting her position on the couch, Diana brought her hands up to pick at her lips, an anxious habit she’d had since a child.

Before her fingers could even make contact with her mouth, Biz’s hand swatted it away, an amused look on her face.

“You told me to stop you from picking!” Biz held up her arms in defense, “I just wanted to remind you to tag the bakery the croissants are from on Insta before I leave.”

Biz was driving back to Philadelphia with Eli for the day, giving Diana and Joe the apartment alone for the day. After Biz made her way out of the door, Diana busied herself taking pictures for her social media posts, starting the first episode of Game of Thrones, and snacking on the sweets that had been delivered while she was in the shower. Before she knew it her phone was ringing, Joe’s name flashing across the screen.

“Hey,” Diana greeted, standing to pace in the living room.

“Hey,” Joe responded, “I’m about to get in the elevator, I just wanted to let you know I’m almost there.”

“Okay. Once you get to the 14th floor, we’re on the right. See you in a minute.”

Moments later, Diana was opening the front door of her apartment, eyes scanning over Joe’s body. He was dressed in a tie-dyed blue and purple, Space Jam crewneck and a pair of gray sweats. She had never understood before when her friends had talked about men in gray sweats, but seeing Joe had shown her the light.

“Hey,” Diana finally found her voice, gesturing for him to walk in the door.

“Hey, again,” Joe joked, making his way past Diana to stand in the entryway. Closing the door, Diana met Joe’s eyes and felt her face heat up.

“So, I have uhm, some pastries and fruit in the living room if you want to go in there. I’m like halfway through the first episode of Game of Thrones if you want to go watch.” Diana’s voice came out quicker than normal, nerves filling the space between the butterflies in her stomach.

Joe shook his head with a grin. “Alright. That sounds great to me.”

The pair made their way past the kitchen and into the living room, Diana waving her arm in the direction of the couch. “Make yourself comfortable. What do you want to drink?”

“Water sounds great, thanks,” Joe answered, walking to the corner of the couch. When she returned, Joe had sat down and was taking in the surroundings of Diana’s living space. The room was the same cream color that most high-end rentals are nowadays, sectional taking up most of the space. A coffee table in front held Diana’s laptop, a plate with croissants, cinnamon rolls, and strawberries, a glass of water, and two of the flower arrangements that Joe sent her the day before. The sectional was up against a full wall picture window, sage green blinds pulled halfway across and faced a flat screen TV that was paused on an image of Daenerys Targaryen walking into a steaming bath.

“I know it’s plain, but we’re only staying here temporarily,” Diana said referring to the room they were in, her presence startling Joe.

“Oh. Planning on moving soon?” Joe inquired, pulling himself deeper into the couch. Diana set the glasses down on the coffee table and sat down next to Joe, leaving about a foot of space between them.

“Kind of? I wanted to stay in New York until the tour starts and then Biz and I were going to look at houses,” Diana said in response, “I don’t necessarily want to settle down in a huge city, but I can’t imagine myself going back to Philly.”

“Did you hate it there or something?” Joe seemed genuinely intrigued about Diana’s plans, which was something that surprised her. She had only really known him for 36 hours and she was ready to tell him everything.

“Only since my dad died,” Diana said, instantly followed with, “Oh my god. That was so depressing. Ignore me.”

“You’re fine. It’s the real reason,” Joe chuckled, “I’ll quit interrogating you.”

The two talked a little more about Joe’s flight back to Cincinnati at 9 and the Grammys that happened the night before, somehow landing on their Game of Thrones opinions.

“I won’t deny that she’s completely batshit insane, yes. But she’s one of the best characters!” Diana said, excitedly of Cersei. “That’s not what you said, you said she was your favorite character,” Joe countered, “Which, if it is true, is wild.”

Diana laughed as she brought her legs onto the couch and crossed them crisscross-applesauce. The space that had previously existed between her and Joe disappeared, her knee pressing into his thigh. Attempting to ignore the heat that was making its way up her neck, Diana leaned forward and grabbed the remote. “Just watch it from my perspective,” she said before pressing play.

The rest of the first episode and the entire second one played while Diana and Joe snacked and gave commentary on what was happening in the show. Between episodes, Diana had readjusted, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over herself. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but sometime around the opening credits of the third episode after she had ordered pizza, she found herself pressed into Joe’s side with his arm wrapped around her shoulder. Within fifteen minutes of that, Diana found herself straddling Joe, hands on either side of his face, lips moving in sync with his. Joe’s right hand found its way to her hair as her lips traveled to the hair on his jawline.

“I like this scruff,” Diana panted between kisses, starting at his chin and making her way back up to the sensitive spot beneath his ear. Joe’s left hand traveled to her waist, reaching under her t-shirt and making contact with her bare skin. “I’ll keep that in mind,” just loud enough for Diana to hear. Diana ground her hips into his lap, feeling him harden beneath her and his hand traveled to her breast, massaging it eagerly.

They continued kissing a moment longer until Joe grabbed hold of Diana and laid her down on the couch. His lips found her neck and he asked, “Is this okay?” as he shifted his weight to not crush the woman below him, his left hand returned to its place under her shirt. “Take this off,” Joe said, gesturing to the material. Diana complied. “Couldn’t be better,” Diana sighed as Joe nipped lightly at her collarbone, tongue following shortly after his teeth.

“I’m sure there’s always room for improvement,” his voice laced with lust and arrogance. Just as Diana was about to ask what he meant, Joe’s hand moved from her breast to the waistband of her sweatpants.

With a nod of Diana’s head, Joe’s hand dipped beneath the waistband of both her sweatpants long fingers gently brushing her clit through her panties. A soft moan left Diana’s lips as she leaned forward to connect her lips to Joe’s again. His fingers teased her, using his thumb and forefinger to play with the material separating him from her core. Lifting her hips hoping Joe would get the hint, she pressed her core firmly against his fingers.

“More,” she breathed. Joe pulled the fabric aside and his fingers were instantly met with the slick wetness of Diana’s arousal. Sliding his middle finger along her slit, he brought it up to her clit and began to rub. Pleasure clouded Diana’s thoughts, Joe’s voice asking her if he could take her pants off barely making it through haze. She lifted her hips and pulled the material down her legs as Joe sat up, tugging his shirt over his head.

Joe stared at her for a moment, taking in the sight in front of him. Laying in only her black lace panties, Diana was too busy enjoying her own view to shy away from the hunger Joe was staring at her with. Joe was clearly a man who took care of his body and it showed. She was in awe.

Before Diana could process the definition of his muscles, Joe had resumed his position next to her, covering her lips with another kiss. Then, without hesitation, he took her left nipple in her mouth. Diana moaned again, arousal red hot between her legs. It wasn’t long until Joe’s mouth began moving downward again, leaving kisses until he got to Diana’s hip bones.

“Can I?” Joe asked, staring up hungrily at Diana. Hesitant, Diana thought it over for a second. She had only received oral three times in her past relationship as her ex had found numerous reasons to avoid the act, most of them criticisms of Diana. Everything from she was unattractive to she was too picky when it came to the way he did it. Trying to shake thoughts of her ex from her head, Diana reassured herself that every signal Joe had given her had proved he wanted to do this. Finally, she nodded her head.

Wasting no time after getting her consent, Joe placed his lips around Diana’s clit and began sucking. Instinctively, her hips bucked into him, eager for more pleasure. Diana felt Joe smile into her skin, then a finger slid into her while he continued to suck and lick at her. After some movement, Joe added another finger, pausing a moment to help her get used to the width.

Diana tried to clear her mind, looking down at the man between her legs. His fingers were moving inside of her, curling to hit a spot inside of her that she seemed rather receptive to the first time he hit it. A warm tension was pooling in the pit of her stomach as she tried to clear any insecurities from her mind. “Fuck..” Joe’s mouth drew another slow moan out of Diana’s mouth. She leaned forward, propping herself up on her elbows. “As amazing as this feels- fuck. I don’t think that I’ll be able to- holy shit!- finish this way.” Joe pulled his face away from her core, licking his lips and shaking his head. “I think you underestimate my determination,” he stated. Not breaking eye contact, he dipped his head back down and placed another kiss on her clit and added another finger to the ones busy between her folds.

Joe’s hands and mouth continued in unison to work their magic until moments later when tension in her core began to build towards a peak and her body convulsed. She brought her hand to her mouth and bit down lightly as Joe’s teeth lightly grazed her clit. He used his free hand to rest against her hip bones, trying to hold her in place so he could help bring her to climax. Releasing her clit from his mouth, began to move his fingers with more purpose, trying to match the pace that Diana was trying to set.

“Fuck. Fuck! Joe, I think I’m going to-” Diana was cut off by her orgasm. Joe continued to pump his fingers into her as he peppered kisses on her forehead. Warmth radiated through her body, starting at her core and rippling from her head to her toes. “That’s right, baby. Just let it happen,” he encouraged as Diana let herself give in to the sensation.

Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes, Diana was staring into Joe’s blue eyes. “Thank you. I promise you did not need to do that” Diana whispered, trying not to let her nerves get the best of her. “I didn’t have to, I wanted to,” his response helped ease her worries. “Besides, I didn’t want to not live up to what was advertised,” he joked, referencing the interview Ja’Marr had given. Just then, the doorbell rang indicating that the pizza they delivered had arrived.

An hour later, Joe and Diana had devoured an entire pizza and had spent the entire time deep in conversation. Trying to avoid bringing up what just happened, Diana kept the topics focused on friends and growing up. She learned about Joe’s parents and his brothers and heard what it was like to grow up in a relatively small town in Ohio, while she told Joe about how she grew up in Philadelphia, her mom leaving before she turned 10, and her dad passing away a few years ago. It felt almost relieving to have someone ask questions about the things she actually cared about.

It wasn’t long before Joe’s phone started ringing from its spot on the coffee table. Joe stood up and walked out of the room to take the call. It was a quarter till six, meaning that Joe’s flight left in less than 5 hours. Diana’s head began swimming with contradicting thoughts, sad that he had to leave soon and fear of what that meant.

When Joe ended the call, he walked back into the room, looking at his phone. “Apparently, I should leave in no more than ten minutes to make it back in time to pack for our flight. I guess I should leave” Joe looked just as conflicted as Diana felt. “Will I get to see you again?”

Diana felt her heart start beating harder than it ever had. This man was a fucking dream. “Yeah, that’d be cool. I’d like that,” Diana nodded, walking Joe to the door.

“Cool. I had a really good time today,” a smile covered Joe’s face when Diana turned a deep red. “I’m willing to repeat it anytime,” he said with a wink.

Diana shoved Joe slightly, arriving at the front door. Joe engulfed her in a hug, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“But seriously, I would like to hang out again. I’ll text you, okay?” He was looking down at her now, smirk still on his face

With a nod, Diana pushed herself onto her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye. Making sure she locked the door behind him, she raced to her phone to send her sister a text.

Sending the message, Diana couldn’t help to smile to herself. She wasn’t quite sure what she wanted from this relationship with Joe, but she knew for sure she wanted more of it.

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Sorry for the delay, I just couldn't get this chapter right! Hope you all enjoy! If you've read this far, please let me know what you think, even on anon!

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