#thank you for asking though. it feels good to talk about this. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wosofutbolfan · 2 days ago

Text

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”.

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch.

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world.

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow.

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band.

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.”

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening, to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.”

You let out.

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks.

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other.

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… ��We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”.

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp.

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife. It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips. You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was.

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour.

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs.

“We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh.

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you.

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face.

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration.

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!” you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm.

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game. You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok. The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso community

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elikajinnie · 2 days ago

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#sendbiceps with hyungline

a/n: i was bored... i dont know xD

Warnings: Suggestive Content? Crack fic, Humor.

(thanks to @aceheexx for helping me with input <3)

Lee Heeseung

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps to cheer me up 😩

The three dots appear almost immediately, and you settle into the couch, waiting for his response.

Heeseung: What biceps?

You blink, rereading the text. What biceps? Was he serious right now?

Annoyance bubbles up, and without a second thought, you leave him on read. You toss your phone aside and cross your arms, stewing in the silence. He knows exactly what you mean, but he just has to joke around.

Minutes crawl by, and your phone stays stubbornly silent. Heeseung, apparently, isn’t in a rush to make amends.

Then, just as you’re about to grab your phone and tell him off properly, it buzzes. One notification.

You open it, and there it is. A gym mirror selfie, Heeseung’s arm flexed just enough to emphasize the curve of his bicep. His black shirt’s sleeve is slightly rolled up, and the smirk on his face tells you he knows he looks good.

Your irritation dissolves into something warm. Before you can even think about responding, your fingers are already hitting "Save to Camera Roll."

A second notification pops up.

Heeseung: You better be smiling now

You: I was never mad 😌

Sim Jake

The dull ache in your head has been your unwanted companion for hours now. You’re sprawled on the couch, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly to distract yourself. But even that’s failing. Feeling both bored and miserable, you shoot Jake a text.

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps to cheer me up 🥺

The dots appear almost immediately, and you wait, hoping for a quick pick-me-up. Instead, his response makes your headache throb harder.

Jake: I feel bad too. Send tits?

You stare at your screen, narrowing your eyes as if he can sense your disbelief through the phone. “Seriously?” you mutter to yourself, massaging your temples.

You: Are you kidding me right now? My head hurts, and you’re making it worse

Jake: I’m just saying... fair trade, no?

You contemplate leaving him on read, but he sends another message before you can decide.

Jake: Fine, fine. Ladies first, though

You groan, mostly out of exasperation, but also because your headache refuses to give you a break. Against your better judgment, you snap a quick shot—not anything too revealing, just enough to satisfy his ridiculous request. You send it with an eye-roll emoji for good measure.

Seconds later, his response lands.

Jake: Now that’s what I’m talking about

Before you can scold him, another text comes through:

Jake: Alright, biceps incoming. Don’t say I never did anything for you

And then, right on cue, a photo of his flexed bicep arrives. It’s angled just right, the definition in his arm making you pause despite your lingering annoyance.

Your headache doesn’t magically disappear, but for a brief moment, you forget all about it.

You: You’re insufferable

Jake: And yet, you saved that pic, didn’t you?

Touché.

Park Sunghoon

Work has completely drained you. You’re sprawled on your bed, still in your outdoor clothes, the ache in your legs matching the exhaustion in your mind. With a sigh, you grab your phone and text Sunghoon, hoping for something to brighten your mood.

You: I feel so bad rn. Send biceps 😩

He replies quicker than you expect, but his response isn’t what you were hoping for.

Sunghoon: What? Why?

You blink at the screen, then groan. Of course, he’s going to make you explain.

You: Because I’m exhausted, Sunghoon! Work was a nightmare, my feet hurt, my boss wouldn’t stop hovering, and I haven’t even had dinner yet! Plus, I feel like crying, and seeing your biceps would literally make my day better. Is that too much to ask for?? 😤

The typing dots disappear for a moment, and you wonder if you scared him off with your mini-rant. Then they reappear, and after a pause, your phone buzzes with a notification.

It’s a photo.

You open it, and your breath catches. Sunghoon’s in a tank top, his arm raised as he flexes just enough to show off his toned biceps. His other hand is holding the phone, and his expression is so open and cute, it makes your heart skip a beat.

A squeal escapes you before you can stop it, and you bury your face in your pillow, giggling like a lovestruck teenager. Kicking your feet, you glance at the photo again, unable to stop the wide grin spreading across your face.

Without thinking, you hit "Save to Camera Roll." Then, as you sit there, still staring at the screen, you wipe at the corner of your mouth, realizing you were actually drooling.

You: I love you so much, Sunghoon

Sunghoon: ...So it worked?

You: Of course it did. You’re the best boyfriend ever

Sunghoon: Good. Now go eat dinner before you faint or something

You giggle again, hugging your phone. Drained or not, Sunghoon always knows how to make you feel better.

Park Jongseong

The TV screen blinks off with a frustrated click, the remote abandoned on the couch next to you. You’d spent the past half hour scrolling aimlessly through movies and shows, but nothing seemed remotely interesting. Boredom gnawed at you, and with a groan, you grabbed your phone.

You: I feel bad rn. Send biceps 🥺

The reply came a minute later.

Jay: Why would biceps make you feel better?

You chuckled at the response, already picturing the way he was probably furrowing his brows in confusion.

Jay: If you feel bad, shouldn’t you do something else? Like eat ice cream or take a nap?

Your smile widened as you started typing, determined to wear him down.

You: Nope. Only biceps will cure me. Please, Jay, I’m begging you. Just one🥺🙏

The dots appeared and disappeared, then appeared again, and you could almost see him debating with himself. Finally, your phone buzzed.

It was a photo.

You opened it, and a giggle immediately bubbled out of you. Jay had taken a mirror selfie, his arm flexed in a way that made you pause for a moment, thoroughly appreciating the definition. He was wearing a baseball cap, pulled low over his face, but the telltale flush creeping up his neck and cheeks was impossible to miss.

It was adorable.

You: OMG, you’re blushing!

Jay: Shut up. You begged for this. And don’t screenshot it!

But it was already too late—you’d saved the picture to your camera roll the second you saw it. Hugging your phone to your chest, you kicked your feet, your earlier boredom completely forgotten.

You: I love you! You’re the best!

Jay: You’re such a handful. But… I love you too

a/n: who loves biceps? hands up!!

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

Perm taglist: @ilyunjina @nshmrarki @laylasbunbunny

@wensurr @immelissaaa @simj4k3 @vegahrid @03sunoos

@hollxe1 @moonpri @cherriesfine @badtzsan @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@heeseungbabydoll @wondash @renjiishot @demigodmahash

@strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @honeybunnee @jjongstar111

@enhaprettystars @zorange13 @jiminie-08 @chocowonnie

@enhamonsterghoul @mrsjjongstby @lunaritex @kiripimaspillow

@sumsumtingz @norucking @tunafishyfishylike @txnwvc

@jakeluvrrs @firstclassjaylee @xnatqq @arclviie @aussie-boys-wife

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gyaruhana · 1 day ago

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Omg can we get some more player 120 (Cho Hyun-ju) sfw n nsfw headcanons where shes protective n dominant? Pls n thank uu I loved ur last work w her🩷

Cho Hyun-ju/Player 120 - Headcannons (sfw + nsfw)

Synopsis: more Hyun-ju headcannons !

A/N: ask and i shall serve !!

Warnings: smut content

SFW:

➠ i'm immediately jumping into the scene in the last episode where she was locked in bc holy moly she was so hot.. ➠ wouldn't let you go with her unless you were well-trained with a gun and able to handle it ➠ even then she's always keeping you close behind her ➠ When she's not shooting at the guards, she's looking at you to make sure you're doing okay ➠ if you run out of ammo, she doesn't hesitate to give you one of her magazines ➠ If you end up panicking she's immediately there to distract you from the gunshots and reassuring you that everything is fine and you'll both be okay ➠ and you both will be because she refuses to die or to let you die ➠ not when you both had already made plans for Thailand after you get out of here ➠ On a lighter note !! ➠ most doting girl ever ➠ does give you some of her food sometimes if you're feeling hungry ➠ If someone insults you, she's instantly at your side to defend you ➠ she HATES people thinking they can treat you badly ➠ do play with her hair she loves it sm ➠ expect her to hold your hand a lot because she's not afraid of PDA ➠ late night talks after lights out which sometimes just turns into staring into each others eyes ➠ so many quiet "I love you"'s whispered during those talks too ➠ likes when you cup her face in your hands honestly ➠ you guys are always talking about WHEN you make it out of this place and never if ➠ so so many plans for Thailand ➠ After the death of Young-mi, she definitely needed your comfort and got so much more protective of you ➠ if you go to the bathrooms, she's right there behind you ➠ you're basically never alone during the games ➠ Absolutely fights for you ➠ Overall, so protective of you and not afraid to put someone in their place if they disrespect you

"I have a few nice places to live in Thailand saved on my phone. I can show you them when we get out," you speak from your bed as you turn to face her. She smiles slightly at your words and nods her head. You both had been planning for Thailand since forever and now the dream seemed so much closer with the money you could take home. Even if some people died, neither of you would be next. Not as long as you were there to protect each other and survive this hellish place together. "I'd like that,"

NSFW:

➠ Again, she's gentle. ➠ not a big fan of having public sex so she often takes you to the bathroom with her if you guys are in the mood ➠ most skillfull pussy eater icl ➠ she knows exactly how to make you feel good ➠ gentle and meaningful kisses that convey so much love ➠ she's just a gentle cutie ➠ always whispering praises to you ➠ baby, my girl, sweetheart - literally every sweet pet name in the book ➠ refuses to be rough with you because she wants to help you relax and be calm from the stress of the games and the death ➠ always kisses you after making you cum on her fingers ➠ which happens quite quickly honestly.. ➠ she's just a little too good at fingering you.. ➠ she's practically memorized every part of you though that's why ➠ encourages volume and expressing how you feel ➠ she bases her pace on your facial expressions because she's ridiculously observant ➠ Overall, gentle girlfriend who knows how to please you<3

"You're close, yeah?" She says quietly as she looks up at you, her fingers continuing to thrust in and out of you quickly. The two of you didn't have a lot of time as the guard waiting just outside the bathroom likely wouldn't let you stay for long. That's why she was so quick with her fingers. The last thing she'd want is for you to be left without a release. "Go ahead. Cum on my fingers, my love,"

#squid game #squid game 2 #squid game x reader #squid game season 2 #squid game s2 #hyunju squid game #hyun ju #squid game smut

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eternalguk · 2 days ago

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Pink Hearts & Black Clouds || jjk. — 01

Love me at my lowest, I’ll love you when you’re barely holding on

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : Jeon Jungkook is the epitome of a brooding grunge. Moody, distant, and always a little too sarcastic. A grumpy, tattooed college student who barely tolerates anyone… except you. Somehow, the girl who’s a whirlwind of pink hearts and strawberry lipgloss is the one who keeps dear Jungkook on his toes.

But you must admit… behind that gruff exterior, there’s a side of him only you get to see—gentle, caring, and ready to spoil you in his own way. Everyone else may see him as the tough guy with a permanent scowl, but you know better. Jungkook’s heart? It’s all yours.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, college au, grunge!bf x bimbo!gf, angst, fluff & smut

↠ Word count : 3.8K

↠ Warnings : swearing, making out, teasing, exhibitionism (sex in a lecture theatre), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, rough sex, slight dumbification, dirty talk, begging, oral sex (m. receiving), ass smacking, scratching, dom!jungkook x sub!reader, use of pet names, sex on a desk (he hits it from the back at one point), a very moody but flirtatious Jungkook paired with bimbo!oc deserves its own warning :) - I think that’s about it?

↠ A/n : Hi there ; here it is! Chapter 01 of my first series, ‘pink hearts and black clouds’ which I am so excited to share. This story means a lot to me as it explores two completely different personalities finding their way together. With bimbo, sunshine!reader and grunge, grumpy!jk, I hope you enjoy exploring this world as much as I loved creating it. It’s messy, it’s fun, it’s emotional, it’s steamy (at times 👀) and it’s absolutely everything I could ask for! I’d love to hear what you think - your reactions, favourite part, or even anything you’d like to see from them in the future! Feedback / comments are always appreciated. Thank you for giving my story a chance & happy reading 🦢.

↠ Song : ‘Closer’ by Jungkook / ‘Good for you’ by Selena G

❧ Chapter 01 : Lipgloss & Leather

prev. || next || series masterlist || masterlist

A stream of light filters through the wooden, venetian blinds of the lecture theatre windows, slicing through the warm, cinnamon-scented air.

God bless Ms. Choi for her diffusers.

The ambience of the empty theatre is a sharp contrast to the wintry chill that is dancing around outside. The time of season where it bites at your cheeks and refuses to let go. Inside though, the warmth feels like a holiday cocoon, the kind that makes you shed layers and forget the frost clinging to the world beyond your surrounding.

Unfortunately, despite the serene atmosphere, you don’t feel any less distracted.

You are perched in a chair at the back of the theatre, mindlessly playing with your pink glitter gel pen while Jungkook sits on the desk in front of you, legs spread arrogantly, one boot perched on the seat beside yours. The light catches on the silver chain hanging from his neck, a stark contrast to his black t-shirt and ripped dry-denim jeans.

You should be focusing on taking notes for the upcoming midterm, like he told you to do, but instead, your eyes keep wandering back to the powerful man in front of you.

Powerful because he consumes your entire being.

You pout as you swirl a strand of your hair around your finger, oblivious to the smirk curling on Jungkook’s lips as he catches onto your little daydream.

“Not taking notes, princess?” he asks, tone dripping with mockery.

“Erm…” you blink at him, momentarily caught off guard. “I was… thinking?”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Thinking. Right. About the syllabus or about how good I look right now?”

Your cheeks flame as he leans forward, chin propped lazily on his tattooed hand. His dark hair falls messily over his face, making him look even more impossibly cocky.

“Both?” you meekly offer, putting down the glitter pen and propping your chin onto your soft hands.

His grin stretches wider. “You’re cute when you lie.”

You smile at the compliment as Jungkook reaches out and grabs the gel pen from the desk, inspecting it like it was the most interesting thing in the world. The sight of his tattooed fingers gripping the sparkly pink plastic makes your heart race.

“Why do you even need this?” he teases, holding the pen just out of reach when you try to grab it back. “It’s ugly, you definitely don’t use it to write anything down and it’s pink.”

Jungkook grimaces, observing the pen as though it’s a foreign object.

You huff and pout harder, crossing your arms. “You said you’d help me study, but all you’re doing is being mean!”

“Mean?” Jungkook cackles, the sound low and gravelly. “Doll, I’m just keeping it real. Someone has to be with you.”

“Ugh, you’re the worst!” you whine, trying again to snatch the pen, but Jungkook is faster. He swiftly moves it behind his back, staring you down with his usual, conceited smirk.

“And yet, here you are. With me.”

“Because you don’t let me leave,” you shoot back, a small huff escaping as you try your best to appear annoyed.

But you aren’t. Not even a little bit.

Especially when Jungkook leans in even closer, his dark eyes scanning your face like he is trying to memorise every detail.

“C’mere,” he says softly, contrasting his suddenly serious expression.

You blink up at him, your heart fluttering. “Why?”

“Just come here, doll. Trust me.”

You hesitate for half a second before leaning forward, and that is all the invitation Jungkook needs to grab your chair and yank you forward, placing you between his legs. Your breath hitches as he cups your face in his hands, the rough pads of his thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“You’re too fucking pretty, you know that?” he murmurs, his voice so low and intimate that it sends a shiver down your spine.

“Jungkook…” You trail off, feeling utterly flustered and ridiculously warm under his intense gaze.

“What?” he questions, cocking his head playfully. “You don’t like compliments? Want me to call you dumb instead? You like that, huh?”

“N-no!” you stutter, and the way he leans in closer makes your head spin.

“That’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, brushing his nose against yours. “My good girl likes being told she’s pretty.”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest as his lips find yours, the kiss starting soft but quickly turning hungrier. Jungkook kicks your chair back before tugging you impossibly closer, his hands sliding down to your waist.

“Fuck, you taste sweet,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Strawberry lip gloss,” you utter, still fairly dazed.

He hums appreciatively, a smile now evident on his face. “My favourite.”

Jungkook’s hands slides lower, squeezing your hips as he deepens the kiss. You moan softly when he nips at your bottom lip, his pierced tongue sweeping over it a second later.

The sound of the theatre door creaking open in the distance makes you freeze.

The wind.

“Jungkook!” you hiss, pulling back slightly. “What if someone comes in?”

Jungkook grins, completely unbothered. “Free show?”

“You’re impossible!”

“You love it,” he teases, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth. His hands tug at the hem of your short pink skirt, hiking it up higher as his fingers toy with the edge of your lace underwear.

“Ahh, is this the pair I got you the other day?”

“Jungkook…” you mewl, voice barely above a whisper. You manage a quick nod, before falling to rest your head on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“My doll is always so needy,” he grumbles, his dark eyes locking with yours. “But I don’t mind.”

Jungkook continues to fiddle with your underwear, his hand slipping inside to cup your now soaked sex in his rough hands. “Nice and wet.”

You squirm in his grasp, your cheeks burning as he presses another kiss to your neck, nipping the sensitive skin until you gasp.

“Relax, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you, I promise.”

And with that, you give in - like you always do with your lover boy.

“Get on the desk.”

Your heart races as you turn toward the heavy, wooden desk behind you. It feels cold beneath your palms as you hoist yourself up, the sound of your skirt rustling loud in the quiet space. Jungkook watches you intently, his eyes darkening as you settle onto the surface, your legs dangling over the edge.

He steps closer, his hands sliding up your thighs, pushing the hem of your skirt higher.

“Look at you,” Jungkook whispers, his voice dripping with approval. “So pretty. So perfect for me.”

You shiver, your hands gripping the edge of the desk as his fingers trace patterns on your skin. Jungkook’s touch feels electric, sending sparks shooting through your veins.

“J-Jungkook—” you stutter, your voice shaky.

“Shh,” he interrupts, his voice firm but gentle. “Just relax. Let me take care of you.”

Your boyfriend's words send a wave of warmth washing over you, and you let your body sink into the desk as he leans in, his breath hot against your neck. You feel the stubble on his jaw brushing against your skin, the faint scent of his woody cologne filling your senses.

“The way you give in,” he begins, his lips grazing your ear, “is fucking beautiful.”

A soft whimper escapes your glossy lips as his hands move higher, pushing your skirt up to your waist. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and you gasp as he tugs them down, leaving you exposed.

Jungkook is quick to toss them onto his discarded leather jacket draped over the chair beside him. The delicate blush of your pink panties against the rugged, worn leather is a stark contrast that sends your mind spiraling.

“Stunning,” he utters to himself, eyes roaming over your body with a hunger that quickens your pulse.

Why the fuck is this man so hot?

You squirm, cheeks burning with embarrassment, but Jungkook doesn’t give you time to think. Not that there was much going on up there anyway.

His hands grips your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the desk. He wraps your delicate legs around him, engulfing you in his embrace.

“As beautiful as you look like this,” Jungkook mutters, caressing your cheek, “I need you on your knees.”

You’re quick to comply, gently shoving Jungkook away. He cackles at your eagerness, but deep inside his brooding heart, he feels at awe.

“Open your mouth,” he commands, quick to change personas, voice rough with desire.

Again, you obey without hesitation, your lips parting as he unzips his jeans. His cock springs free, already hard and straining, and your eyes widen as he steps closer, the tip brushing against your lips.

“Suck,” he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You hesitate for only a second before leaning forward, taking him into your mouth. His taste is salty and masculine, making you moan softly as you begin to move your tongue, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy member.

Jungkook groans, his hand tangling in your hair as he guides your head up and down. “That’s it, doll,” he encourages, his voice thick with pleasure. “Take all of me.”

You sink deeper, gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you don’t stop, determined to please him.

“Such a good girl,” Jungkook effortlessly praises, his grip tightening in your hair. “You were fucking made for this.”

The words send a jolt of heat straight to your core, and you moan around him, the vibrations making him shudder.

“Fuck,” he curses, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. “I’ll be painting your face with cum if you keep that up.”

You pull back slightly, looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes. “Isn’t that what you like?”

Jungkook chuckles darkly, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “Not yet, baby. I have other plans for you first.”

Before you can even think of a response, Jungkook pulls you off the floor, spinning you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His hands roam over your body, cupping your breasts through your satin blouse as he nips at your earlobe.

“You’re turn, princess,” he whispers, voice sending shivers down your spine for the umpteenth time this afternoon.

You gasp as his cold fingers find their way between your legs, exploring your already soaked folds. He teases you mercilessly, touch light yet maddening enough that it has you writhing in his bulky arms.

“Please,” you beg, voice trembling with need.

You try to grind against him, but Jungkook’s firm grip stops you from doing so.

“Please what?” he taunts, feigning confusion, breath hot against your neck.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, the words spilling out effortlessly.

Jungkook grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light. “What my pretty doll wants, my pretty doll gets.”

In one swift motion, he lifts you onto the desk, positioning himself between your legs. Jungkook’s cock presses against your entrance, and you yelp as he thrusts into you in one smooth, powerful movement.

”God, why are you so tight?” Jungkook groans, his hands gripping your hips as he begins to move. “I fucked you this morning.”

The sensation, along with the reminder of your earlier shenanigans, is overwhelming and both the stretch and burn send waves of pleasure through you.

You wrap your legs around Jungkook’s slim waist, urging him deeper as he pounds into you relentlessly.

“Harder,” you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. “More.”

Jungkook obliges, slamming into you with a force that has the desk rocking against the floor. The sound echoes through the lecture theatre, mingling with your desperate moans and his guttural grunts.

“Could fuck this cunt all day,” Jungkook growls, his pace increasing as he mercilessly hammers his thick cock into you.

You cling to him, body trembling on the edge of release. But just as you’re about to let go, Jungkook pulls out, leaving you gasping and empty.

“No!” you cry, your eyes snapping open to meet his smug grin.

“Not yet,” he warns, voice firm. “You’re not cumming until I say so.”

You whimper, your body aching with need, but Jungkook isn’t done. He flips you over onto your stomach, hoisting your hips up so your ass is in the air.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice muffled by the desk.

“Giving you what you wanted,” he replies casually, his hands spreading your cheeks apart.

And then Jungkook is inside you again, filling you completely as he drives into you with a ferocity that leaves you utterly breathless.

Your sopping pussy lewdly squelches around Jungkook, completely soaking him. The sound turns the pair of you on further.

“Right there!” You mewl, pushing yourself back onto Jungkook, the pressure making you moan uncontrollably.

“Say it,” he demands, his voice rough with exertion. “Tell me who fucks you this good.”

“Y-you,” you stutter, your voice breaking as he hits your g-spot deep inside you. “This drenched pussy is yours.”

“And who do you belong to?” Your boyfriend growls, his hand coming down on your plump ass with a sharp smack.

“I’m yours!” you cry, the pain mixing with pleasure in the most delicious way. “Love the way you fuck me.”

Jungkook smirks, his pace slowing as he leans over you, lips brushing against your ear. “Good girl. Now come for me.”

As soon as the words leave his filthy mouth, your body convulses, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as you come undone. Jungkook isn’t far behind, his own release hitting him with a force that leaves him trembling.

The feeling of his cum oozing into you has you wanting to turn around and ride the fuck out of your lover boy.

Jungkook collapses on top of you, his breath hot against your skin as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“You okay, doll?” he asks, his voice softening as he turns you around and carefully seats you on the desk.

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I’m- wow.”

Jungkook chuckles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing.”

“And you, Bakugo,” you reply, your voice hoarse and barely above a whisper.

Your lover boy grins, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. “Round two after lunch?”

The cafeteria hums with energy, alive with the noise of lively chatter and the sporadic clatter of trays hitting tables.

You’re perched on the bench beside Jungkook, a tray of half-eaten chips and an unopened can of Samjin Mango Soda sitting in front of you.

Across the table, Taehyung and Jimin are engaged in a heated debate about Haikyu, their hands waving dramatically as they try to outtalk each other about the anime the two of them are currently rewatching.

Well, truthfully speaking, all of you have been rewatching, but only the two of them are so deeply interested. Maybe Jungkook, but he’d never admit it.

Speaking of Jungkook, he is slouched against the table, one elbow propped up as his thumb scrolls lazily through your phone, staring at pictures you had taken of yourself today.

And he says he isn’t obsessed.

As usual, he hasn’t said much, just the occasional grunt when someone asks him a question. He looks effortlessly intimidating, his black hoodie (that you finally returned) pulled low over his forehead, his iconic silver chain around his neck catching the light and his usual scowl that is always imprinted on his beautiful face.

You, on the other hand, couldn’t be more of a contrast. You’re in your own world, a makeshift beauty station spread out in front of you, next to yours and Jungkook’s shared meal. Your compact mirror is propped against the soda can, brushes and glosses neatly scattered around it.

A soft pout forms on your lips as you reapply a coat of your signature lip gloss, the sticky sheen glistening in the light. You’re blissfully focused, tilting your head to inspect your work like an artist perfecting their masterpiece.

“You’re so wrong,” Jimin says, leaning forward with a look of betrayal. “There’s no way Seijoh vs. Karasuno is better than Shiratorizawa vs. Karasuno.”

“It’s about the emotional stakes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies, sipping his iced tea as though he is a certified anime critic. “Oikawa’s genius mind versus Kageyama’s raw talent? That’s art.”

“Art?” Jimin scoffs. “Bro, real art is Ushijima annihilating them with a spike.”

Taehyung shrugs. “Oikawa’s smugness had more impact than any spike ever could.”

“Who’s Kageyama again?” you pipe up, tilting your head.

Jungkook’s phone, well your phone, lowers an inch as he glances at you, his expression blank. “You can’t be serious. We literally watched an episode yesterday.”

You shrug, completely unbothered by the disbelief in his tone. “I don’t remember the boring ones.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his drink, eyes wide in horror. “Boring?! He’s literally the King of the Court!”

“Don’t,” Jungkook says flatly, cutting off Jimin’s impending rant. “She’ll just start listing the hot ones.”

You grin, batting your lashes at him. “Is that a problem, Koo?”

Taehyung leans back in his seat, smirking. “You’ve got your hands full, don’t you, Koo?”

“I wouldn’t call it that,” Jungkook mutters, though his ears tinge pink. “And don’t fucking call me that.”

Taehyung catches it immediately, raising his brows. “Is that a blush I see, Jungkook? The same guy who nearly broke someone’s nose in basketball last week?”

“Fuck off,” Jungkook grumbles, sliding your phone over to you.

“Bro, you’re whipped,” Jimin adds, his laugh practically echoing across the room.

“No I’m not-”

“You are,” Taehyung interrupts, pointing a chip at him. “It’s so obvious. You’ve got that whole, ‘don’t fucking talk to me�� thing going on, but this one over here bats her fake lashes and you’re folding fast.”

“Hey! They’re real,” you protest, leaning forward and resting your chin in your palms.

You study Jungkook with a teasing smile. “Is that true? Am I your kryptonite?”

His eyes flick to yours, dark and unreadable, but there’s a flicker of something - amusement, maybe, or fond exasperation. Jungkook simply doesn’t answer, just grabbing a chip from the tray and popping it into his mouth.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you say, your smile widening.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, but it’s half-hearted. He leans back in his seat, stretching his long legs out under the table, and you notice the way his fingers tap rhythmically against his knee. He looks relaxed, but you know him well enough to recognise the effort it takes to hold back a snarky comment.

“He doesn’t even deny it,” Jimin continues, grinning like he’s won something. “You know what? I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think you’re good for him.”

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden compliment. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees, though his tone is far more mischievous. “You’re like the sunshine to his thundercloud.”

“Lipgloss to his cigarette,” Jimin chimes in.

“Or the idiot to his genius,” Jungkook finishes off, his voice dry as ever.

You gasp, smacking his muscular arm lightly. “I’ll have you know I’m very smart!”

“Name the capital of the United States,” he challenges, barely hiding the smirk tugging at his lips.

“Easy,” you say confidently, shrugging your shoulders. “Hollywood.”

Taehyung and Jimin dissolve into laughter, and even Jungkook can’t hold back the small shake of his shoulders.

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re unbelievable.”

You pout, confused why the boys are laughing. But, the sight of Jungkook joining in with them has you leaning into his side, grinning up at him. “You still like me, right?”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, but his hand moves to casually rest against the small of your back, his fingers caressing the exposed skin.

And that?

That’s the only answer you need.

You busy yourself with dabbing some extra Dior blush onto your cheeks, the sunlight streaming through the window catching the shimmer within it. Jimin plays with your Ilia mascara, shaking his head as he takes in the rest of your makeup that is scattered around.

Taehyung sees that you’re occupied and smirks, leaning closer to Jungkook. “You defo love it, you’re just too much of a moody shit to admit it.”

“Love what?” Jungkook asks, deadpan, though the tightening of his jaw gives him away.

“Having someone fuss over you,” his best friend teases, motioning his thumb towards you with a grin. “She’s got you wrapped around her finger.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, looking down at the now empty takeaway container in front of him like it’s suddenly the most fascinating thing in the world. “You have nothing better to talk about?”

Your eyes dart to him, catching the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck.

Smiling to yourself, you lean your chin on your palm. “It’s okay, Jungkookie,” you coo softly. “You don’t have to say it. I already know.”

He glares at you, but there’s no real bite to it. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?” you ask, pouting in innocence. “You love it when I call you that.”

Taehyung and Jimin burst into laughter once again at your audacity.

Jungkook narrows his eyes at them before turning to you. For a split second, his fingers twitch on the table, like he’s about to pull you closer. His gaze softens as it lingers on you - like he’s on autopilot, already halfway to pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

But then he stops.

Clearing his throat, he leans back in his chair instead, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt over his head like armour. “You’re insufferable and annoying.”

You blink, caught between surprise and amusement. “You almost- you almost did it!”

“What?” he grunts, refusing to look at you.

“You were going to kiss my head.” Your voice is laced with a playful lilt, but there’s a flicker of something tender beneath it. “Don’t worry, Kookie. Next time, you’ll follow through.”

His tongue pokes against his cheek, a telltale sign of his rising frustration - or embarrassment, you can’t quite tell. “Shut up and eat,” he mutters, tugging his hood lower before he shoves a packet of crisps your way.

Jimin and Taehyung howl in laughter, and you can’t help but join them, even as Jungkook mumbles curses under his breath.

Somewhere beneath the gruffness, there’s the faintest quirk of his lips - a fleeting smile that only you seem to notice.

And in small moments like this you conclude that while Jungkook doesn’t give you flowers or grace you with love letters, he gives you something that is endless - pieces of himself: his time, his trust, his unwavering presence, and a love so consuming it feels like forever.

And there we have it! Please do let me know your thoughts ; the support I receive means the world to me 🫶🏻

↠ Taglist : @bangchanwantsmesobad @rklvez @doulcha @starlight-1010 @mimi1097 @khadeeeeej @jkslvsnella @royalguk @gaebestie @iamstilljk @myjungkookthighs @jungshaking @kookiesgiggles @minimoninini @lovejkmilitarywife @pplongoing @pokolunolino @dontcallmeelle @taeisbae13 @ronyiboniyy @nerdycheol @onlyforyoukook @ukandtwme @morosisxx @smwhrinthehaze @thebluegoddess @ramyun-h @remgeolli @minniejim @cherricherryy @avawants2havefun @fr0ggieth1nk @ahgasegotarmy116 @jeeykey @ficluvr613 @deeznutkooks @kookienooki (names in italics could not be tagged).

#jungkook fics #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #bts x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts series #jungkook series #jungkook drabbles #jungkook oneshots #bts drabbles #bts oneshots #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook fanfics #fic: pink hearts & black clouds

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uconnwbbcrashout · 19 hours ago

Text

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

d💎: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

d💎: you’re actually killing me here

d💎: gimme her number

d💎: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

d💎: no you don’t

d💎: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

#azzi fudd #paige bueckers #paige x azzi #pazzi #pazzi fics #lwb fic #i really hope you guys enjoy this one :)#inbox open tell me whatchu think

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namism · 1 day ago

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their love language/s | headcanons

➳ categories: canonverse, gender neutral reader

➳ summary: Looking into everyone's top love language/s with Sanji, Nami, Law, Zoro, Kid, Koby, & Sabo.

➳ notes: thank you for 200 followers!! i don't write headcanons, but here's a special treat for everyone who's ever read, liked, and supported my fics! 🧡

Sanji: Words of Affirmation

Above everything, Sanji is a smooth talker.

He's incredibly good at romancing you through his words that it doesn't take long for you to completely fall head over heels for him.

Canonically, he calls people with different pet names. "Mellorine" is arguably the most creative. If he were with you (or were trying to flirt with you), he would definitely create a personal nickname that only he would call you.

That said, there is no defeating his terms of endearment. All of them are truly endearing.

Also, best believe that he's amazing at communication.

You know how couples need therapy because their communication sucks? Yeah, that's not happening in a relationship with Sanji.

If this man can flirt through words, then he can talk things out with you.

Overall, Sanji is a very romantic person, but he would work out the most with someone whose primary love language is words of affirmation.

Acts of service as second? Sure. Quality time as third? Sure, but overall, words of affirmation takes the cake.

His sweet talking is just something an ordinary person can't resist.

Nami: Quality time/Gift giving

Is this a hot take? Maybe, but Nami is definitely sweet to whoever she ends up falling for.

She values hanging out with her friends and the people she cares about, so it wouldn't be any different if it were with you, the person she's into. Something about spending time alone together is intimate for her.

On another note, Nami would totally be into giving gifts.

Being the treasurer of the ship apart from the navigator, everyone is aware that she's strict with where the Straw Hats' money goes. It's safe to say that this would be the case for her personal savings as well, even though she likes to treat herself every so often.

But being a shopaholic just means that she loves buying things not only for herself but also for you.

Nami would totally buy you gifts if she finds anything that reminds her of you, and you can imagine it playing out sweetly.

Who knew the frugal Nami would willingly spend money on someone she likes? It makes you feel incredibly special because she doesn't casually do that for other people.

Law: Quality time/Acts of service

If you were a member of Law's crew, he would definitely appreciate the one-on-one appointments with you whenever you needed a checkup or anything of the sort.

Call it unethical, but let's be serious—he's a pirate who happens to be a doctor (or is it the reverse?), his epithet is quite literally "Surgeon of Death," and above all else, he isn't doing anything malicious when you come to him.

Instead, it's all sweet and innocent. If Law were to like you, he initially wouldn't know how to act around you, so he's grateful for the quiet moments that you share together alone, no matter the circumstance.

He would enjoy your company and would totally think that being extra cautious and careful toward your health is a good way of subtly letting you know that he cares for you.

He would be the type to do things for you without being asked. Usually it would be medical related, but once he gets more comfortable about showing his feelings, best believe it would be more than just that.

Zoro: Acts of service

Zoro is the type to save people, so he would keep an eye on you every time danger arises.

While he would save any innocent person or civilian in danger, his decision to rescue you whenever you need rescuing comes from a more personal reason rather than simply playing a hero.

Newsflash: it's because he likes you.

He isn't the type to show his interest toward someone through other means anyway, so his best bet is showing it all through actions that you never asked for to begin with.

His feelings would become more obvious the more he does things for you without question, which he would be pleased by because it would mean that you're picking up on his signs.

He would work best with someone whose love language is servitude, especially if you're the type to appreciate the little things that people do out of genuine concern.

Kid: Physical touch/Words of affirmation

When it comes to Kid, he's heavy on physical touch if you already have an established relationship.

Of course, he wouldn't do anything if you guys aren't official yet—even though he's bolder at flirting than the average One Piece man, he wouldn't want to come off as creepy.

Hence, physical touch is the way to go once you're together. He would be the clingy type in his own unique fashion.

If you aren't together yet, he would show his love through words of affirmation.

However, it isn't anything like Sanji's sweet talking in a way that is straight out of a romance film. Kid has his own way of doing things, so he would affirm you through compliments that often have one or two cuss words in them, which end up sounding mean but isn't actually mean.

For example: "Great job, brat. You did a shitty job last time, so it's nice to see you outdoing yourself."

Kid is just that guy, but he can also be sweet if the moment calls for it

If you're into those kinds of things, then dating him would be no problem.

Koby: Acts of service

Koby wasn't dubbed "Koby the Hero" for nothing. This man is deemed a hero even outside of work because of what he does for you.

Koby would be the shy type in a relationship since he stutters as a habit, so he would comfortably express it through actions.

Similar to Zoro, if you need rescuing, then he will be there. He would do things for you out of kindness because he likes you.

His love for you would be innocent and sweet.

On that note, Koby would be the type to do the smallest things for you, so if you're the kind of person who would be driven insane by the smallest acts of kindness, then Koby's your guy.

He would hold the door for you, get a glass of water for you if you're thirsty, check up on you randomly, and ask you to continue speaking if you accidentally happen to talk over each other.

Koby does his best to express his feelings, so he hopes his actions are good enough.

Sabo: Acts of service

In a perfect world, Sabo would make an amazing Prince.

It would seem ironic given how he canonically hated the nobility (including his family) because of the way they looked down on the less fortunate, but if Sabo never left nobility, he would be a Disney Prince.

Sabo does things in service, so it would be no different for him to initiate acts of service toward you.

He would be the type to do things without expecting anything in return.

Similar to how he would drop everything should Luffy or Ace be in danger, he would immediately go out of his way to save you or tend to your needs if the situation calls for it.

It's his way of expressing that he cares for you, and he sure as hell would make sure that you know he's interested.

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syoddeye · 2 days ago

Note

Here me out pls

Nik in the Strict Machinery AU as a possible bf for reader for a NikPricexReader

Thank you for your time

hear you out? for nik? always. this was fun. nikolai is still nikolai in this au. that is, mysteriously wealthy and well-connected. he's probably fascinated by john. it's cutting edge technology, after all. available only to the testers that live in the building.

that said. i do not think their first meeting goes well.

strict machine anthology. cw: alcohol mention, implied non-consensual voyeurism, the boys are fighting

the hesitation is intentional, nikolai thinks. prototype or not, there is no reason for this thing to experience a delay. it's too advanced. his own cheap, voice-active coffee maker brews pots when he's face down in bed, slurring commands through a hangover.

he leans against the counter. "john. i said, black coffee, no sugar."

this time, it responds. "user has not authorized food or drink for guests."

nikolai smiles, a tired amusement curving his mouth. "she's asleep," he counters, pushing to see where the line is. "should i wake her?"

after a beat, the machine hums to life, reluctantly, he assumes. as the mug fills, he turns his attention to the wall panel. he ignores the in case of emergency and authorized users only stickers.

the nearly invisible door gives a soft whoosh as the compartment opens, revealing a sleek, intricate array of circuits and controls—a shrine to cutting-edge design. far beyond what even the wealthiest of his clients might handle, nikolai marvels at it, his fingers hovering just shy of contact. then, he touches its small screen, intending to peek at—

it zaps him. not painful, but pointed. a gentle warning, considering. nikolai shakes out his fingers and chuckles. "i apologize. i should always ask before touching."

there is no answer, until he retrieves his coffee. it is black, but one sip, and he knows there are at least two sugars in it. what a curious, temperamental thing.

"before she wakes, i should inform you that i was unable to complete your background check last night." john suddenly pipes up, voice clipped and stern.

"you ran a check? on me?" not the first time, not the last. good to know his team is worth their salaries, though. keeping him disconnected, his data scrubbed.

"i run checks with everyone my user spends more than five minutes with."

"surely i lasted longer than that," nikolai smirks into his mug, feeling the granules dissolve and swim between his teeth. "you were watching us, weren't you?"

silence.

"to make sure i was acting as a gentleman, as i assured you last night?"

"you were drunk."

"we both were." nikolai replies, moving to the couch. he sinks into its corner, one leg draped over the edge, lounging comfortably. he looks out across the sterile space. it is cozy compared to his own, but it has its charm. he is undecided about the assistant, though.

the thing is too over-zealous for his liking. he would spit if he heard his coffee maker back talk. he would take a bat to it.

"you must know her better than anyone."

this time, the response is immediate. defensive, even. "i am optimized to ensure her well-being."

nikolai chuckles. "'optimized'. is that what you call it?" he smooths back his mussed hair. "you don't like me. you're suspicious. that's good. it's very…human."

"it is not. i am not." a shift in tone. closer, too. like he's right on top of him. has he flustered the thing? "my programming is consistent and solid, unlike–"

"humans?" he catches a flicker of light, and a projected figure materializes beside him, legs disappearing into the couch. broad shoulders, bullish posture, arms crossed. its face is tight and stern, probably modeled after a thousand logged expressions of intimidation. the fidelity is nothing like he's seen, either. realistic enough that nikolai wanted to touch it the mole on its nose. his hand twitches before he recalls the panel's warning.

hm. interesting. more rugged than i imagined.

"that's good, john. because i'm consistent. solid, too. ask her about that later. she will tell you, or she will request pain relief." he lifts his mug in a toast, and the figure's frown deepens.

just as quickly as it appeared, the image vanishes. he hears movement from beyond the cracked bedroom door, followed by a voice. low, but not quite low enough.

"john?"

"yeah, darl?"

darl?

"i'm, uh, sore from...dancing last night. do you mind setting out something in the bathroom for it?"

something in the wall behind nikolai makes an awful sound. a muffled, metal-on-metal rumbling. an equivalent to grinding teeth together. his grin widens, and he spreads his legs a little further.

"of course, darl, i'll—"

"oh! and ask nik what he wants for breakfast, okay?"

he laughs quietly into his too-sweet coffee at the program's stiff and resigned assent.

#strict machine #nikolai x reader #price x reader #john price x reader

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denim-devil · 3 days ago

Note

Dbf!Frank

Reader is getting driving lessons from Frank so he can travel from college to home more conveniently instead of having to travel. Frank ends up seducing reader and while the reader is blowing frank Reader's dad calls and asks how reader is getting on and Frank replies with "he can't talk rn" or something followed by filth 😮‍💨

-.• Emerging Adulthood

💌 - A deep natural desire takes over once you reconnect after months apart, he also happens to be your dad’s best friend…

| Age gap / DBF / Car sex / Blowjob / Facefucking |

A/N - Please IM SO RUSTY! It’s not my best but enjoy! Thank you for the request, my inbox is always open so ask away.

Nervous wasn’t the only way to describe how you felt.

The van, cold yet lacked space, you were crammed shoulder to shoulder with Frank, the neighbour who became close friends with your dad, not just for any reason though.

It was going smoothly although you could hear the slightly creak of the dark van’s metal exterior every time you began to break, it was new to you but travelling hours on end from college to home, back and forth got exhausting from time to time, this way you could see your father…and Frank.

“Thank you for this Frank, it’s gonna make my life so much easier…”

Smiling to himself, he shoots a glance your way, his arms resting against his meaty, spread thighs.

“Nah it’s nothin’ kid, trust me, yer dad seemed pretty happy about it, atleast we can spend some time together, feel like yer’ve grown to quickly…”

Shuffling lead to him leaning over directly into your space, mouth level with your ear, a helping hand slowly monitoring your steering, looming over your own.

It wasn’t something new to you, it had been years, ever since the day you were introduced there had always been a click, with it recently growing into something more, Frank hated to admit how much you had an affect on him, yet that was secreted…for now.

Heat began to rise up from your strained neck, blossoming into your cheeks. Frank could see it, being this close, feeling his skin on yours, he could feel the van wobbly slightly, knowing that your focus was elsewhere.

“C’mon kid, you got it, look at yer go”

His whispers had you actively clutching the wheel, his hand now removing itself from your own and down to your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He kept it there for a few seconds, testing the waters, you could both feel the tension, thick as a block of butter, head fuzzy with the thought of something happening, something you had been longing for.

He pulls back for leverage, allowing you to make a left turning, flicking the indicator on just before, you could hear the light chuckle and the low, short and huffy “good boy”.

“You really are gettin’ good at this ain’t ya?”

You nod with confidence, evidently ignoring the boner that began to ache between your pressed thighs, how could you possibly escape this situation without embarrassing yourself?

With space to breathe, you begin to get comfortable again, slightly slouching back with a newly perpetuated confidence, with a teacher as good as Frank, you’d be able to drive in no time, yet he was the biggest distraction on earth, to you, he was everything and more.

“Hey…kid? See that over there? Why don’cha pull in for me, give yer legs a rest…”

It was a desolate patch of road, away from the car’s passing by, away from the world, secret and quiet, your heart pounded, thumping in your ears, loud. Nodding was your only answer as you follow his words, pulling in slowly, turning the car until you came to a stop.

“Good job kid, yer really gonna smash it”

He ruffles your locks, now messy and out of place, it catches Frank of guard, nothing out of the unusual yet his cock twitched, the sight of you alone was intoxicating and it took everything within him to sit and just pretend he was okay, the look unknowingly had you creeping back in on yourself, a shyness only he was able to bring out.

You twiddle with your thumbs, anything to take your mind off of him, to just escape for those five seconds before he scoffed.

“What’s wrong kid?”

His words were the catalyst, looking up into his hazel eyes which looked glazed, comforting yet dark and mysterious, Frank wasn’t the type to share much about his personal life but what he did, you took with a grain of salt but you had enough trust to believe every word.

“Nothing…just, this-“

He shuffled, backing up his seat a little before resting an elbow on the window and spreading his meaty legs wider practically giving you an invitation.

“What about it? Somethin distracting yer?”

You nod timidly.

“I can help with that…”

His drawl was thick, soothing to the brain. You turn to look at him, eyes immediately drinking the view in, lowering, settling on the bulge between his legs, you tried stifling the small gasp of air that managed to escape you, it was to late.

“I can explain-“

He tutted, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of his throbbing cock, glued to the way you shuffled in your seat like you had ants in your pants.

“Yer don’t hav’ to, I’ve been tryin’ fer so long with yer, waitin’ till I had you all to myself…”

As if time stood still itself you were so focused on him, the way he looked, the way he sat, the way his thumbed at cock, palm fondling the front of his dark wash jeans, it was alluring, you wanted more.

You yearned for this day more then you would like to say, patience was waning thin on your side, every inch of you on fire just at the single thought of becoming more, the judgment and broken connections that would likely follow had you stilled and confused, it wasn’t enough to withhold you from desire.

“All yer have ta do is nod, then yer can have it and some more”

It felt like a punch to the stomach, like the air in your lungs evaporated within seconds. The heat in your cheeks scorching the skin successfully, succumbing to Frank’s charm.

Your palms were damp, almost sticky as you shakily reached towards his crotch with a wanting hand, nodding in the process, swallowing the spit that had collected in the back of your mouth from salivating just at the thought of seeing it, seeing him.

“Atta boy-“

Reaching for the back of your head sweetly, he slowly lowers it, watching you wiggle into a comfortable position before your nose, now squished up against his crotch, huffs, breathing him in shyly.

Relishing in the smell, musky, thick with masculinity, sweet with temptation.

Eager hands search his thighs before you face the ultimatum, looking up into his darkened eyes, lust filled. Frank knew exactly what you wanted and happily complied, pushing you further into his aching bulge, stuffing your nose deeper.

“That’s it, yer so fuckin’ hungry for ain’t yer”

Hot pants litter the front of his trousers, tongue darting out to lap at the freshly made wet patch. The taste heavy with want scorned the tip of your tongue, fingers avidly searching for the zipper to unleash your dirty fantasy.

Frank watched. His tongue dangerously flicking against his teeth as he smirked, the soft moans that fell from the pits of your chest once you successfully managed the opening, pulling the zipper down, releasing the beast.

Eager finger tips dig into the waist band of his underwear, his bulge nothing short of chunky and big, filling the entire space within the material.

His length flops out against his abs with a heavy thud. You couldn’t help but look in awe, the tip angry and red, multiple veins, thick and pumping with desire, he was big, scarily big but you expected nothing less from an ex-marine.

A searching hand wraps around him, engulfing the head with the extra skin that sat there, watching in anticipation once it flicked over the tip, jerking him slowly back and forth.

Frank groaned, head lulling back into his car seat, legs widening even further for you slot deeper into, making space for the casual onslaught that was now set in stone.

This was nothing short of both risky and dangerous, you had no self control, not when it came to Frank, you allow yourself to indulge, inspecting the jizzy head before your mouth wraps around his bulbous tip, wide and wanting.

His hands, full of warmth and protection slowly search the back of your neck, raking up into your locks before grabbing a handle, he tugs you back catching you off guard but it’s not for nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about these pretty little lips wrapped around my cock, yer think yer can take it?”

Without a warning your pushed back into him, mouth engulfing what he gave you, a strong hand settling at the back of your neck, warm yet eager to push you downward, watching each inch of him get lost within your wet cavern.

It gave you no time to think, how could you think? His cock reaching the depths of your throat, the tip glued to the back of your mouth once your nose buried itself in the thin layer of hair that framed the beauty and beast.

“Fuck, yer been practicing with them boys in college? Who knew yer were a good cock sucker-“

He holds you down once you start to gag, eyes rolled back into your head, balls pressed heavy against your brow line, you couldn’t do anything yet submit to the man. Frank wouldn’t ever admit it but watching you struggle to breathe, slapping at his thighs for air was something he’d think about every damn day from now.

You choke before being allowed to pull off with a pop, coughing into the material of his trousers. Once again your back on with a newly found love, tongue flicking over the tip once you sink your throat down again, taking his cock completely, back and forth with the direction of his hand.

That’s when his mobile began to buzz, throwing you both off guard, it wasn’t enough to make you stop though, your other hand coming to cup the base of his balls, rolling both between your fingers.

“Gotta be quiet sweetheart, it’s yer daddy. Keep suckin’ that dick like a good boy”

In which you did, following his lead once he pressed accept, taking the risk. It felt dirty once the conversation started, knowing any slip up could cost you both, yet it had you going faster and deeper, stuffing your mouth full of him.

“Yer he’s doin a pretty good job, think I outta give him a few more for good measure, gotta give to him though, he’s very…good”

Frank bit into the centre of his bottom lip, keeping his heavy groans back which were seated deep in his chest, urging to come out. His hand kept it’s presence known, bouncing his hips upward into your skull, balls freely slapping into your cheek.

Dirty. Wet. A small puddle of saliva formed at his base, strings of it latching onto the base of your chin, it would be a miracle if your dad never heard any of it, how you worked him over.

“He can’t talk right now, he’s just parking up, yer that’s right—“

It was quick yet everything you were searching for, nothing short of filthy. Nothing mattered to Frank more then watching your growing affliction for his cock flourish into neediness, hearing just how much you wanted it by the relentless gags and the hollowing of your cheeks.

Nobody really understood the burning hunger that sat heavy in his gut, only you, the constant lapping at tip, the frequent squeeze of his balls, he couldn’t hold on for much longer, not when you had every incline of how to make him crumble.

“I gotta go, need to finish up with him, I’m sure he’ll tell yer all about it when we get back…”

Your eyes started to well with tears as he fucked into your throat, using your mouth like he would toy, chasing after his orgasm. Ending the call was the gateway to your freedom, his pace faster then before, delivering harsh blows, his hand holding you down, forcing you to take it.

“Gonna cum boy- can you take it? You taking it?”

Nodding with anticipation is all it took for Frank to sink every single inch into your throat, he sat heavy on your tongue, feeling him pulse and twitch, hand keeping you in place once you feel each thick shot land in different places in your mouth, pooling behind your lips.

“Shit— shit”

Swallowing every drop you couldn’t let any go to waste, tasting him fully, slightly salty but over-all sweet and tantalising, it lingered behind even after swallowing every drop, tongue cleaning his cock before you pull of with a pop, watching it fall and lay, half hard.

“C’mere sweetheart”

His eyelids were hooded, his mouth turned out into a sincere smile, he looked faded, lost in his pleasure. Darting forward into him, his tongue flicks into your mouth, over your own, hungrily, learning just how damn good he tasted on you.

You wondered how the rest of your college break was going to go, it wasn’t exactly out of the blue but you had time and Frank had the patience.

#male reader #x male reader #the punisher #frank castle #frank castle x male reader #smut #jon bernthal #papi #help 💀

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hwaslayer · 3 days ago

Text

wildfire (cs) | ten.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 5.1k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, mature language/sexually implied content, the dots are being connected!! soooo many run-ins and slip-ups 😭, alcohol consumption and intoxication, someone gets a lil too aggressive with oc, confrontation, some pushing / getting in each other’s faces lol, someone actually catches san x oc—OOP, namjoon is stressed, jongho too actually lmao, lots of assumptions, sorry if i missed anything!!

"So, how was it?" Jiung asks, walking alongside of you as the two of you slowly walk over to the Gates Biology Building, where Yunho's class was being held. You sip on your cup of coffee, dragging your feet while you look ahead to the building in view.

"What, the conference?" Jiung nods. "It was okay! Nothing too fancy."

"You didn't see any other people there?"

"Not really, no. I think this was a relatively smaller conference compared to the others."

"Did you get to talk to Professor Choi much?" He looks down at his feet, wondering if you'd open up about anything that could potentially give him clues. But, you resort to a simple—

"Nope." Jiung is looking at your necklace now. "Just said hi in passing." You avoid eye contact.

"I see." He tries to read your body language but it isn't giving him anything. He's just not sure why you're keeping it so vague and brief, though. That's unusual. Plus, the fact that you can barely maintain eye contact with him. "That's a nice necklace, by the way. Is it new?" He points at it.

"Mhm. I got it down there." You touch the necklace with a small smile.

"It's cute. It suits you."

"That's what the lady told us—" You catch yourself. "Me, too. I mean." Jiung furrows his brows.

"Us?"

"The other shoppers around." You quickly throw out just as you get to the front of the Gates Biology Building. "Thanks for walking me." You playfully ruffle his hair and he chuckles.

"Mmyeah. See you later for the happy hour event?" You nod.

"Have a good rest of your day." You wave him off as you walk backwards and head into the lobby. He stands there for a second, waiting until you fully disappear into the elevator and off to the classroom, turning on his heel while replaying the conversation in his head.

You don't feel the same to him, and he knows it's because you're hiding something. You weren't always great at lying or keeping up with a façade because that just wasn't you. For you to be doing it means there's something tied to it that means a lot to you, something you're trying to protect, and Jiung is now convinced that something is Professor Choi.

It's only a matter of time until he finds out one way or another, and he's not sure how to feel about it. It could either go badly or end up worse; he's afraid you'll end up hurt at the end of it, and he's afraid everything you've worked for will be taken away from you so, so quickly.

Meanwhile, when you drag yourself into the classroom, you're startled by the sight of Yunho on his laptop, sitting at the table in front of the classroom.

"Oh, hey!" He says, typing away. "Hope you don't mind me joining in for journal club today." You shrug with a small chuckle, setting your things off to the side while Yunho comfortably sits back in the chair. Your eyes quickly skim his get-up for today, which is pretty casual: dark jeans, a long sleeve top and chucks. He doesn't say much while you're getting things ready on the projector, typing away on his phone in between scanning your figure. He's trying to see if anything looks or feels off with you, and so far, it doesn't.

San is careful as can be, he supposes.

"It is your class, Professor Jeong." He smiles a bit and nods.

"So, how was your weekend?" You yawn into your arm and shrug.

"It was okay. I came back from a trip. Felt too short."

"Mm." Yunho hums. "Where'd you go, if you don't mind me asking?" He's eyeing your features as you sift through your notes.

"Just drove out a few hours with my mom." You avoid eye contact as you go through today's paper and prepare some discussion points for class.

"Oh." Yunho nods. "That sounds nice." His eyes land on your necklace and it looks too familiar— which is probably because he almost bought that same necklace for Iseul on Hiro this past weekend.

Maybe San isn't all that careful cause he swears he sees the faint hickey at the base of your neck from this angle. The longsleeve top you're wearing covers it for the most part, if you're paying attention.

"What about you?" You look at him and see that his eyes have landed on your necklace before they move up to meet your eyes.

"I was actually at Hiro for a couple of things, then went to the BAS conference for a bit." Your heart drops and suddenly, the room feels incredibly hot. You completely avoid eye contact with him now, sifting through your notes to finalize the discussion points for today. "I thought I saw you there with San."

"No?" Is all you manage to say, but it's enough for Yunho to catch onto everything.

"You weren't?" You look at him, and his expression is blank. All you can do is pretend to play it off and shake your head, hoping he'd let it go.

"Not me." Your response is barely above a whisper, and all Yunho can do is let out a breath. He knows.

"Y/N." His expression switches and you can see the concern on his face. "Can I ask—"

"Morning Professor Jeong and Y/N!" A student comes in and plops into his usual seat, followed by another student, and another.

Thank god.

"Sorry, you were saying?" You look at him cluelessly, making him shake his head in response.

"Nothing. I'll let you take it from here." He gives you a small smile, eyes now glued onto the students ahead. You give them a few minutes, waiting for the stragglers to trickle in and get settled before you call their attention to the front and begin today's journal club paper discussion.

Yunho, for the most part, keeps to himself during class, chiming in when he wants to clarify a point or to encourage the class to bring more discussion to the table. Yunho thinks you're a great TA, and he sees that the students are comfortable with you. He hates that he's so conflicted because of many things: one, he's not sure entirely about the situation. Two, his gut feeling makes him feel sure but he doesn't know how to approach it. Three, he knows you're an incredibly bright and smart person— you'd get along with anyone and truly, he hasn't had any issues with you despite his last minute requests for classes or assignments.

Four, maybe he just needs to let this go and stop meddling.

Five, you would've known what you were getting into right?

But, he's reminded otherwise when class wraps up an hour and 15 minutes later— a brutal reminder otherwise. He sees you packing up and getting your things together, clinging onto your phone just as you grab your bag and sling it over your shoulder. As you turn on your heel, you almost collide straight into Iseul.

You look at her, and she looks at you.

Her eyes glaze over your features, landing on your neck, that necklace.

"Excuse—" You try to brush past her, but she gives you a small smile and steps in your way.

"Hi Y/N, how's class with Yunho been?" You look at her because you have never spoken a word to her, nor did you have a reason to. But, out of respect [especially on campus], you give her a faint smile before responding.

"Good." You simply respond as she nods.

"And how's your rotation with San? Sure he's been treating you well?" She tilts her head to the side, almost like she's mocking you. Almost like the answer is written all over your face, your neck; her eyes are there again and you can't help but tug up and adjust your top more.

"Very."

"That's good to hear, I expected as much. He's pretty good about building relationships with his lab members." She gives you a small smirk before stepping aside, slowly making her way to Yunho behind you. He stands there, hand slipped into his pocket while he cocks his brow at her. You don't even take another moment to look at them, instead quickly walking out of the room to text San and make your way over to your next class of the day.

you: san.

san: uh oh. lol what did i do? 😅

you: no it's not that. ☹️

san: what is it, baby? do you wanna come into my office in a bit? i'm wrapping up at the faculty meeting.

you: no, it's okay. i just finished class with yunho and i think he knows. well, him and iseul.

san: what, why do you say that?

san: not like i care about what they have to say or whatever.

you: san, you should. 🫤

san: alright, i'm sorry. you're right. but what did they say, baby? do you wanna wait until i see you later?

you: yunho just said he thought he saw us at the BAS conference, but i know he did. his tone and look said so. he was just trying to get it out of me. and iseul.. i don't know. it was just weird.

san: we'll talk about this later tonight then, okay? it'll be okay. don't worry about them.

you: okay. 🥺 are you going to the happy hour thing?

san: wasn't planning on it but i know namjoon's text is gonna come sooner or later. going with your friends?

you: mhm. i'll see you later tonight if you don't go?

san: soooo long. wanna pop into my office in a bit?

you: sannie. lol i'm headed to my next class then i'm going to meet up with jiung and them afterwards.

san: for 2 seconds. 😭

You playfully roll your eyes and smile as you text back, already walking over to class.

you: you're still wrapping up at the faculty meeting and i'm headed to class. i don't think we'll have 2 seconds, professor choi.

san: booooooo.

you: see you later. 😙

san: ☹️ mean.

You giggle to yourself, tucking your phone into your pocket as you head to class; forgetting the tense, awkward moments that just occurred between Yunho and Iseul.

"Why'd you have to do that, hm?" Yunho asks her, grabbing his bag from the floor before walking alongside of her.

"Was just trying to see how she'd react. I'm sure she didn't tell you anything about her trip?"

"No. Said she went away with her mom for the weekend, so." Iseul chuckles.

"Of course. Someone I know said they definitely saw San leaving with her at the conference. Kinda makes sense now, doesn't it?" She looks up at him. "Y/N folded when I mentioned him, her body language completely changed."

"Iseul." Yunho looks at her. "What are you trying to do here? All I was gonna do was ask her, not interrogate or attack her."

"I'm trying to get you to do the right thing. They're dating, Yunho. It's obvious. I saw the way she tugged on her top, too. I'm sorry but she's not slick." He sighs.

"I don't know, I don't wanna start this whole thing. What if it isn't even that serious, or what if we're completely wrong—"

"Everything about this is serious regardless of what angle you look at it. It's wrong." She says. "You don't have to talk to San, but I will. They need to know." He sighs heavily, no longer knowing how to respond to her about the whole issue.

You meet up with your friends outside in the middle of the Harvey Center courtyard, where all the activities are set up appropriately for the happy hour event taking place. They've got cornhole competitions set up on the lawn nearby, another station to decorate university tumblers, and another for quick but fun board games. They've got a bunch of pizza boxes sitting out on tables, beer and canned wine next to it. You and your friends help yourself to a few slices before grabbing your drinks of choice for the night. They've got string lights to add to the atmosphere, the evening being clear but chilly.

"Finally! We relax all together again!" Felix says, tapping his can against yours before you all drink and start to indulge in tonight's happy hour festivities.

"Our baby's finally here, too!" Eunchae squeezes you, hugging you tightly and making you laugh as she clings onto your arm.

"I know, Y/N. You've been so MIA." Felix looks at you with his usual puppy eyes, bottom lip slightly poking out. "What's been going on?"

"I've been busy with the lab, honestly. Trying to put in as much work as I can before the rotation ends."

"It's like you're practically living there." Felix jokes.

"How come you haven't been working with Sunwoo, though? He said you've been on your own schedule and stuff." Jiung asks.

"We're just focusing on different aspects right now. Plus, I've been trying to help Belle out as much as I can, too."

"Okay but, make time for us, too. Live your life!" Eunchae preaches. "You're here with us now, so let's enjoy it." So, you do. You do exactly that with your friends and a bunch of other people who swung by from different departments. Today's happy hour event is the liveliest you've ever seen it— tons of friends and people swarming from different departments and areas just to take a break from everything and mingle.

You and your friends hang out with familiar and new faces, all of you sitting around and drinking while one half played games and the others talked about school, work. Life. San and his friends join eventually, talking to a few students as they hang around amongst themselves. You giggle to yourself seeing San put on a face cause it's obvious he's not entirely in the mood. But, he's here. So, are his friends; Professor Kim being the social butterfly out of them all, per usual.

"So, Y/N. Tell me about the stuff you've been doing in Professor Choi's lab. I heard you've been up to some crazy stuff from Sunwoo and Belle." Hae-jin, a postdoc in another lab, pulls his chair closer to yours and looks you in the eye. At first, the conversation is fun, it's lively. You're in good spirits conversing with the guy, laughing and poking fun at campus life and being a grad student vs. postdoc.

But, Hae-jin keeps drinking.

And he keeps drinking.

Then his true intentions start coming out and you're no longer having a good time talking to the guy.

A few people are drunk enough to start a fun little dance floor in the middle of the courtyard while the speakers blast music, Eunchae, Felix and Jiung also grabbing you to join them as you sing along to the song. You facetime call Jurin while she's away, letting her know much you miss her. The call ends after 5 minutes, Jurin sadly waving while she heads off to dinner with her parents for their anniversary celebration.

"I'm gonna grab some water." You tuck your phone in your pocket, heading straight to the water table nearby.

"I was looking for you, cute stuff!" Hae-jin throws his arm around you and you can smell the alcohol lingering on his breath. "Wanna dance?"

"No, I'm good, Hae-jin." You shrug him off and take another sip of water before tossing your cup. San is already on high alert from where he's standing— his attention nowhere on Namjoon, Jongho or Zara right now even though he's trying his hardest to keep it together.

The fuck was this guy doing?

"What, why? It's just for fun? Let's just go and hang out." He throws his arm around you again, this time bringing you flush to his body. You try to press off his chest, but he's strong and it isn't an easy fight.

"Hae-jin, stop—"

"What's wrong?" Luckily, Eunchae is already on her way over to save you, sensing your distress signal from afar.

"Hey, stop." Eunchae senses the way you stiffen and quickly become uncomfortable. "Leave her alone." Eunchae pushes Hae-jin back roughly. "You're drunk, dude. She said no."

"Aw come on, bestie trying to get in the way? I just thought we could have a dance. We were connecting, Y/N. Were we not?"

"Hae-jin, stop—No." His hand comes to your waist again. But, before Eunchae can even jump in, another familiar voice does:

"She said no." San steps in the middle, hand lightly pressed against his chest to create some distance. "Sure you understand what that means, right?" San's tone is laced with anger, but he's wearing a cocky smirk to cover it up. He's fuming and you know it.

"Professor Choi." You quietly say behind him with Eunchae still next to you, but he doesn't respond to it.

"San." Christopher is trying to hold him back by the shoulder, doing his best to reel him back in. "What's going on?"

"I'm sorry, I can't hear you. You do understand what no means, right?" San asks again, his voice louder as he shrugs off Chris.

"Wow, relax. I didn't think I was coming off that disrespectful. She seemed interested so I was only playing her game—" San steps forward and your heart drops to your ass because what the fuck does he think he's doing right now?

"Kinda looked like you were forcing yourself on her, though." San cocks his head to the side. "Dunno if that really counts as her being interested."

"San. Bring it back." Chris repeats. "The hell do you think you're doing right now?" He mutters lowly.

"San." You help by calling for him again, causing Hae-jin to knit his brows in confusion [along with Eunchae and Chris]. His eyes dart from you, to San, back to you, before responding.

"And how does it make any better that you're getting all worked up over her, Professor? Care to fill us in—"Hae-jin smirks a bit, causing San to push him back by the chest aggressively. But, before Hae-jin can even react properly, he's interrupted.

"San!" It's not just your voice calling out for him; it's Jongho's, it's Namjoon's, it's Christopher's. Namjoon is quick to step in between, creating distance between Hae-jin and San, giving San a very, very stern look once he dismisses Hae-jin to the side. You faintly hear Namjoon tell him to leave if he still plans to stir trouble, in which his friend tugs him to the side and apologizes on his behalf before they leave the event all together. You watch as Namjoon, Chris and Jongho move San to the opposite end, San's eyes wandering to you as if Namjoon isn't in front of him trying to get to the bottom of things.

"The hell just happened? Are you guys okay?" Felix asks as him and Jiung come over after playing a competitive game of cornhole with another duo of grad students.

"Bro, Hae-jin was getting all handsy and wouldn't take no for answer." Eunchae rolls her eyes, keeping you by her side and brushing your hair back. "Fucking creep. I wish Professor Choi actually decked his ass."

"I saw him getting in the middle." Felix adds.

"What's that about?" Jiung looks at you, but you don't really respond. You know he's not asking about Hae-jin. You know he's asking about San in particular.

"He deserved it, that's what. Being a whole dumbass with no boundaries. Learn how to control yourself, asshole!" She yells, hoping Hae-jin hears it even though him and his friends are all further away.

"I'm gonna head to the bathroom."

"Want me to come?" Eunchae asks and you shake your head.

"I'm good. Promise. Just needa break the seal again and take a little breather." Eunchae smiles a bit before squeezing and letting go of your hand.

On the other hand, Namjoon and Jongho finally find a better spot to speak with San at. Chris is honestly confused about the whole situation, being that he's never seen San outwardly act out that way even throughout his bad days. Jongho, on the other hand, knows exactly why and he knew it from the moment Hae-jin started drinking more and getting close to you.

Maybe he should've helped calm him down. He knew San's attention was on you and no one else.

"San." Namjoon calls him again to bring his attention back to him. "I know damn well— what the hell are you doing putting your hands on a postdoc like that at a campus event?"

"He was getting disrespectful, I know you saw that."

"I did, but you could've handled it with a lot more grace, San. This isn't the time nor place to get worked up like that. You don't get into fights on campus as a professor."

"I'm sorry."

"Was that really all that triggered it? Is there something else going on?" San looks at the floor and shakes his head, jaw ticking as he tries to calm himself down.

"No sir. I shouldn't have reacted that way." Namjoon doesn't believe it one bit, but he won't add more fuel to the fire right now.

"I don't think he'll go crying to the dean so consider yourself lucky. Please don't pull that shit again around these students. Promise me. You've got enough to deal with as is." San sighs heavily and nods.

"You're right, I'm sorry, Joon." Namjoon just gives him a small nod before letting out a breath and walking off to the side.

"Are you okay? I've never seen you that angry." Chris asks, confused about why San reacted the way he did.

"Yeah."

"Excuse us." Jongho says as he lightly pushes him by the shoulder, a little irritated at how incredibly stupid he's being. "Bro." He adds when he gets him alone. "What did I tell you?"

"He was putting his hands on her! I wasn't gonna let him disrespect her."

"Because she's your girlfriend?" Pause.

"That's besides the point, Jongho. He wasn't taking no for an answer and was forcing himself onto her."

"You could've just asked him to leave. He would have listened if you had just approached it properly." San doesn't listen, though. Instead, he clicks his teeth and whips out his phone to text you because he doesn't see you anywhere. "San. Don't." Jongho warns him, trying to keep the peace and the suspicion down. "Can't you just talk to her later? Shit will not help your case if someone sees you two. Think about this."

san: baby, where are you?

you: i'm going to the bathroom.

san: can you meet me behind the building, near the first, back west wing door?

you: is that a good idea?

san: really quickly. please.

you: i'll be there in a sec.

"Be right back." He looks at Jongho before walking into the building and out to the back door near the bathrooms.

"San." Jongho calls for him again before clicking his teeth. This dude was gonna stress him the fuck out, no doubt.

"Jongho?" Namjoon looks at him and all he can do is shrug.

"I really don't know what to tell you." Jongho and Namjoon's eyes travel around to see if everyone is still looking at the scene. "Whatever it is, it isn't my story to tell, Joon."

"Is everything okay?" Zara cuts in, concerned about San. She also witnessed the entire thing go down and unfortunately, it's just another reminder, another confirmation, of your relationship with him. It still aches her heart, even though a tiny part of her is selfishly holding onto hope that they'd work out in the end.

Not you two.

"Yeah, should be." Namjoon gives her a small smile. "Don't worry about it. He's just having an off night." Iseul and Yunho are quietly observing from the opposite end of the courtyard, still mid-discussion with other colleagues. They do try to bring their attention back to the discussion and away from San thankfully; however, Yunho knows Iseul definitely won't let it go at this point.

After you head to the bathroom, you wash your hands and fix your hair a bit, hands slightly shaking from the entire encounter. You take a few deep breaths before heading out towards the back door of the west wing, which is only a few steps away from the bathroom area on the first floor. As soon as you step outside, San is there with his hands in his pockets. He immediately pulls you in for a hug, one that you don't reciprocate, especially because you're on campus. You gently push him back and shake your head, bottom lip slightly poking out in a pout.

"Baby—"

"Not here." You softly say. There's a small pause before you let out a sigh and address the elephant in the room. "San, you didn't have to do that."

"Well, the hell was I supposed to do? Let him touch you without your consent? He was making you uncomfortable, Y/N. Over my dead fuckin' body—"

"Can't you think for a second? You're on campus!"

"I don't get why you're upset with me for just trying to protect you."

"There were better ways to do it."

"Angel." He says in defeat. "I'm sorry. I'm not gonna sit back and let someone disrespect you like that. Namjoon will be fine—"

"It's not even that, it's everyone else—"

"So be it! For all I fucking care."

"San, stop saying that."

"No, why? Are you really upset with me?" He cuts in and asks, almost caging you in while he looks at you softly. It's taking everything in you to not just kiss him right here, right now. Wrap your arms around him, tell him to forget every little fucking thing because all that matters is you and him; on that us against the world type shit—

"Y/N?" You turn when you hear the door pop open and another figure is in your peripherals. Jiung is there, confused about the two of you being together.

In the back.

San's face, body, in close proximity to yours.

Both of your expressions are telling.

"What're you doing? I thought you were going to the bathroom?" San steps back, attention shifting towards his feet.

"I'll talk to you later." Is all he says before brushing past you and Jiung, back to Jongho in the main courtyard.

"Jiung." You come towards him. "You didn't have to come looking for me." You brush past him to head back to the courtyard, and Jiung can't help but keep his eyes on San for a second longer before he's coming after you and grabbing your wrist.

Fuck, San thinks. This whole night is so fucked up. He doesn't even know if you're mad at him or not.

He doesn't know what this means.

"Y/N, don't you think we should talk?"

"About what?"

"Stop." He swings you around to face him. "That's enough. What the hell is going on with you and Professor Choi?"

"Jiung—"

"I know you haven't been telling the truth, so please stop. Be honest with me, that's all I ask." You sigh shakily, bottom lip trembling as you fiddle with your fingers. Jiung knew, and tonight probably solidified everything he had questioned, felt, assumed. There was no getting away from it, not from Jiung.

"We've been seeing each other." His eyes widen in surprise.

"So, Sunwoo wasn't lying when he said he didn't see you during the NAS conference." You feel the tears pricking at your lids as you shake your head. "You were with him." He lets out a breath. "Who else knows?"

"No one else. Please don't mention it to them cause I'm not ready to do that talk with them yet." He doesn't even answer, but the next question throws you so off-guard you don't even know how to properly react.

"D-did Professor Choi force you into this? Is he making you do stuff in order to secure your spot in his lab? Y/N, if he's—" You step back and look at him disbelief.

"W-what? That's the first thing you thought of?" Now, it's his turn to look at you in disbelief because how is he supposed to know? He sees the surface level of it and obviously, everything about it is wrong.

"He's a professor, Y/N. Not just any, but yours. Your rotation PI."

"I know it seems wrong, but that's not what it is at all."

"Seems wrong? It is." He flatly says. "This could literally fuck up everything for the both of you. Did you not think about that?"

"I'm not stupid, Jiung. I knew what I was getting into." You back up. "And why would you think of him that way? He'd never do that."

"How am I supposed to know? I know him as a professor—"

"Well, he would never do that."

"I'm sorry? I'm just worried and am making sure you're okay as your friend."

"I told you it was fine. It's not like that and we both agreed on this."

"Okay?" Jiung retorts, hurt by the defensive tone you have.

"I'm just gonna say bye to everyone and head back."

"I can walk—"

"It's fine."

"Why are you hella angry with me?" Jiung stops you again. "You can't actually be angry at me for caring about you."

"I don't need you to do that, Jiung. And I don't need you to start assuming all this shit about me and Professor Choi. You don't know him, and you obviously don't know me if you think I'm someone who could be forced around like that."

"That was not even my point, I was just—"

"Whatever." You say, brushing him off as you walk towards your friends and start gathering your things.

"You're leaving!?" Eunchae pouts. "Fucking Hae-jin and his kill-joy ass!"

"I'm just tired, is all. You stay and have fun, okay?"

"You sure? I can walk you—"

"Please. I promise. Have fun." You reassure her before saying your goodbyes to the rest of the group and walking off.

"Is she okay? Did something happen between her and Professor Choi?" Felix cocks up a brow. "Is there something going on?"

"Nah." Jiung says, plopping down onto a chair. It's easy to see he's defeated, and it's easy to pick up on the mood change. Eunchae and Felix quietly sit around, sipping on the last bits of their drinks before setting the cans aside and scrolling through social media to talk about random things—

Just to let the weirdness pass.

On the other hand, San can see you from where he's standing and he feels his stomach drop. He doesn't wanna see you walk alone, he doesn't wanna be this way with you, he doesn't want Jiung to get upset or make things worse for you.

He doesn't know what to do.

"Maybe we should head out." Jongho chimes in, watching San text away.

"In a sec."

san: y/n, don't walk alone. where are your friends?

you: staying behind.

san: you want me to pick you up?

you: no. i think i should stay home.

san: baby, we need to talk about this.

you: and it won't be tonight. i think we both just need to step back and take a breather, okay? too many things happened and i just need to be in my own space.

san: did you and jiung fight?

you: i'll talk to you later.

san: baby, come on.

Because it's true— this was getting sloppier and even though you could care less, you needed to think. Do better. Be better about this with San.

Though, you're scared and you know it's about to unravel quick. Tonight definitely didn't help that case whatsoever.

You just needed a moment away from everyone.

—read 10.5 here

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