#their body language is very clear when they are in each other’s presence | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pboogerswbb · 2 months ago

Text

SO IT GOES - chapter 13

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual language & content (smut), hoops written by lila, kiran being clueless, language Wordcount: 11.5K (told y'all this was long) A/C: ty SOME OF YOU for being patient (the ones begging for a chapter 24/7... go touch grass), this chapter is SO LONG but it's what y'all wanted so buckle up!! ily guys i know most of you are respectful, once again i love reading y'all's thoughts so send them to my inbox :)) have fun reading this and sorry for the basketball content and if it doesn't make sense, in my head it did ok (also ty @thaatdigitaldiary for making sure the hoops made sense <33 ily)

Before London

The early morning rays of sun penetrate through the slight gap between my curtains, hitting my eyes in a way that makes me stir. My eyelids feel heavy, as my nose nuzzles the soft silk of the pillowcase underneath my head. I’m still half asleep when I hear faint snoring and steady breathing behind my back. Letting it guide me to consciousness, I focus on the gentle rumbling, the weight of a warm arm wrapped tightly around my waist. My hand is gripping on this very arm, holding it tight and flush against my exposed midriff. As I wake from my slumber, finally fluttering my eyes open I feel the heat of someone’s presence tingling against my back, pressing into my shoulders, the curve of my butt. My heart flutters.

Entangling our legs carefully, I turn around to find Paige, lips parted and face smashed against the pillow, rounding her cheek. The soft snores joint with the AC humming offer a steady lull, making part of me want to close my eyes and doze off again. But I can’t bear to look away. Paige’s long, dark eyelashes are pressed against her tan face, blonde strands falling over her eyes in her sleep. I reach over carefully brushing them back to see more of her, careful not to disturb her. I had never slept in her arms before. Sure, we had slept next to each other on some occasions, but I always made sure to turn around and take my space.

I didn’t do it to be mean or cruel. Matter of fact it felt more cruel towards myself, because every fibre of my existence ached to curl up next to her and lie on her chest. I had never wanted to be close to someone so bad it hurt. Until now.

But I was terrified of getting used to her, her proximity, the warmth of her body in my bed. I couldn’t bear another heartache. I was still utterly fucked up from the last one, I knew it started with letting myself get used to sleeping in her arms which would lead to daily ‘good morning’ texts which would lead to me falling deeper, head over heels for her. I feared getting used to her presence, her affection. Because it would mean I’d start needing it.

But something in me last night didn’t care. Perhaps it was the way she had helped me all night, cleared up plates, made small talk with the guests effortlessly, anticipated all my needs, grew closer with my brother, I’m not sure what. But something had me backing myself into her as I lied on my side, somewhere between sleep and consciousness. She didn’t force anything, didn’t move an inch. But the moment she felt me scooching over her arm was ready to wrap around me. And I grabbed hold of it tightly, clinging to her all night.

I admire her beauty, her sharp nose and soft pink lips, faint lines on her forehead, the star-shaped pimple patch on her cheek. I don’t even realise that I’m smiling, or that the blonde is awake before she smiles too, blinking her tired eyes open.

“You’re staring,” she says hoarsely, voice raspy and rough from sleep.

“No I’m not,” I feebly defend myself, my fingertip tracing along the blonde’s jawline and neck, down to her arm. Paige hums contentedly, wrapping that very arm around my waist and pulling me flush to her warm body. I let her, scratching up and down her shoulder and bicep in a soothing manner.

Her blue eyes watch my sleepy face, our noses nearly brushing as our gazes meet. Her glare has always been intense, but it seems more so at this moment.

“Good mornin’ mama,” she murmurs sleepily. I blush at the nickname, shutting my eyes from the intensity of her stare that’s sending goosebumps up and down my body.

“Good morning love.”

A comforting silence falls upon us, as we slowly allow our minds to wake up.

“I think Rike and Lala know,” Paige says softly, her eyes shut now too as my nails drag up and down her bare back.

“I know,” I chuckle in a gentle way. “Lou too.”

“They not gon’ tell nobody, y’know.”

“I know,” I hum, knowing it was the truth. I suspected Lala had known for longer than me and Paige even have. I stir a little on my side, a familiar tension in my shoulder.

“You okay?” The blonde asks, pulling back the slightest bit. “‘M sorry, I get really warm when I sleep.”

I chuckle, shaking my head, “no, it’s my shoulder.”

“You need to see a massage therapist.”

I grimace, shaking my head, trying to find a comfortable position. “I don’t like strangers touching me.”

“C’mon, c’mere,” Paige coos, maneuvering me with ease so I’m lying on my stomach, most of my weight on her as my leg wraps around her waist. Her hand rubs up and down my back comfortingly, soothing the ache. “Better?”

“Better,” I repeat, chills spreading everywhere. In my tired and blissful haze, I wrap my hand around her chest and kiss her shoulder tenderly as a thank you.

“You need better curtains, it’s so bright,” the blonde groans, throwing a dramatic arm over her face.

“No it’s not,” I giggle. “There’s barely any light coming in. Besides, it’s morning.”

“Too much light, goin’ blind.”

I reach my hands up over the girl’s face, covering her eyes with my palms. “There. Dark. You happy now?”

“Stoppp,” she whines, grabbing my wrists harshly and pulling them away from her. We both laugh sleepily, Paige pressing a gentle kiss on top of my head, smoothing over my wild locks.

“You ready for this game against the Storms tomorrow?” I ask gently, knowing games had become a sensitive subject for the blonde. She shifts, inhaling heavily before answering.

“I’m hyped I guess, wish Nika was comin’,” she says and hesitates. “Can’t wait to play against her next season, God willing.”

I smile, glad to see she’s thinking positively. Paige kept her feelings inside, but I knew the off start to the season was bothering her much more than she was willing to admit. Quickly, talks of Rookie of The Season had shifted from the blonde to Olivia Miles, and the media discourse hadn’t been helping Paige’s confidence.

“Is this the end of the great Paige Buckets? Her rookie season has been disappointing to say the least. She seems to be distracted and in her head, missing threes and middies she used to hit with ease. Many people speculate that Geno Auriemma’s coaching is to bl-” blared from my phone just yesterday as I opened TikTok. It made me want to throw the device onto the ground, but the most I could do was to report the video. If I got content like that on my page, I couldn’t even imagine what the blonde saw on her’s.

“Uh- So what’s the plan for breakfast?” Paige asks, eager to change the subject. I catch onto the hint and let her - knowing that pushing it right now wouldn’t be smart.

“The schedule says blueberry pancakes,” I murmur. The blonde smiles, blue eyes flickering to my face on her chest.

“You memorise it?”

“Course I do,” I scoff. Something about this sets the girl off, pearls of gentle chuckles filling the room as she wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight. I giggle too, feeling her lift me on top of her. As she does the door handle makes a sound and before I know it, a shirtless Kiran is stepping into the bedroom.

“Morni- Oh, whoa.”

I’m lying flat on top of Paige, whose arms are wrapped tightly around my waist under the covers. The blonde quickly pulls the blanket upwards, covering both of us up to our shoulders. It was already an incriminating scene, but even worse would be if he realised the lack of clothes on us from last night’s activities.

Kiran’s eyes are wide, brows raised as he looks over at us. I rummage my mind for an excuse, any sorry reason I’m on top of the blonde in bed. He blinks for a while, as if resetting his brain. But he doesn’t say a word.

“I- Paige was cold,” I murmur in a panic. The blonde nods, pulling the blanket tighter around us.

“I really was, been freezin’ my ass off all night.” Her voice is so genuine and confident even I nearly believe it.

Kiran keeps looking at us, cheeks reddening slightly at the sight. “I was just wondering how, uh, how to use the coffee machine.”

“I’ll come help,” I mumble, about to climb out when Paige pulls me flush against her. It’s then I remember I’m nearly completely naked.

“No!” She yelps, rolling me over to my back, throwing the covers over my body. “I’mma go, you rest mama, had a long night last night,” she smiles, patting my hip carefully. Thankfully the sports bra and basketball shorts on her had stayed on last night. She grabs a hoodie off the ground, throwing it on casually.

Kiran, still red in the face, is processing (now on top of everything, the nickname too). The blonde grabs him by the shoulder to turn him around, walking him out of the room. Flipping over, I groan into the pillow, embarrassed. My ears burn and my heart is pounding, trying to find a way to make sense of this to Kiran without exposing the truth to him.

Throwing on Paige’s shirt from last night, I button it up lazily. But as my hand wraps around the door handle, I realise this probably was the worst possible choice of clothing to walk out in after… that. Cursing internally at my brother who never knew how to knock, I undress and dress again in a pair of leggings and a sports bra, both dark brown and matching.

I exhale deeply before stepping out, prepared to stay composed no matter how flustered I felt. However, I’m surprised to find Paige and Kiran laughing together in the kitchen, making blueberry pancakes and talking about video games - something I never understood.

“Well good morning,” Kiran smiles, mixing the batter. Paige, tired but gleaming with quiet joy, gets up from leaning against the wrap-around island, handing me a large cup of coffee.

“Mm mornin’,” she says with a lopsided smile, fingers rubbing my forearm behind my brother’s back.

“Good morning,” I say, still a little flustered, turning towards him. “Uh, Kiran, so that was probably quite strange to walk into, I just-”

“Oh no, don’t worry. I know how girls are,” he chuckles, and seems to genuinely mean it. I glance at Paige who nods, covering the lower part of her face, hiding the smile that’s forming.

“Sure,” I mumble confused.

“You know, girl stuff,” Kiran adds as the blonde grabs a pan from the bottom drawer, placing it on the stove with a sly smile.

“Right, girl stuff,” I chuckle, shaking my head in disbelief behind my brother’s back. At this point I was beginning to question his intelligence. I was also concerned about what he thinks girls do behind closed doors. Standing beside Paige, sipping my coffee, I feel her hand run down my lower back to my ass, copping a feel just for a second while Kiran’s back is facing us. Giggling silently, I push her hand away, the sneaky touch leaving my skin tingling.

Unsurprisingly, keeping my hands off Izara felt impossible. I knew it would be a challenge, it always was. But at least usually I knew the moment we got home we’d get the chance to do what we’d been craving all day. I had completely taken it for granted. Because now with Kiran constantly around, my hands were subconsciously itching to touch his sister’s arm here, or waist there. To wrap my arm around her and kiss the side of her head. Keeping my hands busy had felt like torture. So I was grateful for the controller in my hands, just to have something to keep them to myself.

“Wh- How are you this good? I’m fucked,” Kiran groans, Fortnite blasting on the TV. He’s leaning back on the leather armchair, rubbing his jaw annoyed. Poor guy wasn’t doing too good. Izzie’s curled up on the corner of my couch with a book in her hand - a sight I’d gotten selfishly used to, trying to remember not to take it for granted like I had the touches and kisses.

“We played a lot with my girls back in Uconn,” I grin, leaning forward in concentration and resting my elbows on my knees, manspreading enough so my skin tingles against the girl beside me. “Back in the good ole days.”

Kiran laughs. “You don’t like it in Dallas?”

I contemplate, long fingers sliding over the controller. I guess that’s how I felt at first, and then again when me and Iz weren’t talking. But whenever she was in my life, the whole city seemed brighter, more vibrant. Especially now. As my eyes glance around the living room for the first time I realise this is my home. I could tell by the framed UConn jersey on my wall, surrounded by posters of my favourite players, the Lego Air Jordan decorating the TV stand, my Bible sitting on the coffee table next to the GQ, the decorative pillows Izzie helped me choose - oh and the girl next to me. Without even noticing, somewhere down the line, Dallas had become my home.

“Was thinkin’ I never would,” I tell Kiran, chewing on my lower lip to concentrate on the game. “But it’s lookin up.” I glance at Izara next to me, absentmindedly scrunching her face as she reads over the page. She always looked so beautiful like that, when she was really using her beautiful mind and having to focus.

The beautiful sight is interrupted, however, by the ringing of Izara’s phone. The girl lifts her head up, reaching for it and sighs.

“It’s Trey, must be work,” she murmurs, leaving the room in a hurry to lock herself into my bedroom. I roll my eyes in annoyance, feeling jealousy simmering somewhere in my stomach. I miss a shot but barely notice, eyeing the bedroom door. To my surprise, Kiran scoffs.

“Slimy guy,” he says.

“Tell me about it,” I reply, grip so tight on the white controller my knuckles turn pale.

“You get bad energy from him too?”

I lean back on the couch, fully aware my t-shirt was hiking up, showing some of my boxers underneath the basketball shorts I had on. “Never liked him,” I chuckle bitterly, feeling some sort of enjoyment as if Kiran was justifying my hatred. It felt satisfying knowing someone was on my side, finally.

“He just wants to shag Izzie so bad, it’s so obvious,” Kiran shakes his head, finally giving up and letting the controller fall off his hand to his lap. “The entire dinner party he was trying to suck up to me, I swear.”

“I saw,” I huff. “He loves to kiss ass, especially Izzie’s.”

“Izzie won’t believe that he likes her.”

I kiss my teeth, finally exiting the game, too engaged in the conversation. I always would be if it meant I got to talk shit about Trey. “Bro I know, I tried tellin’ her.”

Kiran shakes his head, looking at me from the leather chair. “She just has bad judgement with men. Like with her ex too.”

“Jasper?” I ask, reaching my hands up to fix the low messy bun my hair is in.

“Yup,” he nods. “What an asshole that one, a complete nonce. I saw it the minute I met him. Tried to warn her, but you know how she is.”

Yes I did. “Stubborn as hell,” I grin. Kiran looks at me knowingly.

“I just wish I was here to look after her.”

“I’ve been lookin after her,” I say without hesitation. The younger boy looks at me, eyes softening.

“She’s changed a lot,” he mumbles. “In a good way. She seems more… at peace, joyful even.” He laughs. “Wow, never thought I’d be calling my big sister joyful.”

I smile and maybe it was narcissistic of me to think so but I hoped that at least some of that was my doing. I could tell the difference from when she first arrived and now - like night and day. I adored her both ways.

“She was always serious, even as a child,” Kiran starts, smiling to himself. “One time she forgot to do her homework, she must have been like seven, and she beat herself up so bad over it and put these pink sticky notes everywhere around the house, reminding her to do her homework. Mind you, she had never forgotten to do it before. That lasted for many many months.”

I laugh, my heart fluttering at the idea of little Izara and her dramatic little gestures, sticking notes on doors and walls and mirrors.

“Our mum hated those notes, would try to tell her that one was enough but everytime she took them down they were up the next day.”

“That sounds like Iz,” I laugh. “She still lowkey that dramatic.” My face falls, glancing towards the bedroom. The door is still closed. Phew.

Kiran nods, chuckling. “Better not let her hear that,” he grins. “She’s strict. Just like mum.”

“Oh, I know,” I laugh. The times I’d gotten in trouble with that girl. I loved it though, she kept me grounded. She was exactly the type of person I could see myself with for a long, long time.

“When we were kids she was so strict about rules too. One time our granny tried to give us sweets before lunch and she told mum. She kept saying “granny broke the rules”. It was hilarious,” he smiles. “Well, not in the moment because I’d eaten the sweets and she told on me too.”

“Oh trust, it’s strict over here too. One time I got her to get ice cream with me before dinner but it took like, an hour of convincing,” I grin, playing with the ring on my thumb.

“That’s Izzie alright,” Kiran smiles. “The only person I ever saw her bend the rules for was this boy she had a crush on as a kid. Was the funniest thing, she would just walk around yanking his sleeves and if that wasn’t enough to get him to notice her, she’d just pull on the hood of his coat.”

I think for a while, warmth spreading all over my body as I listen to Kiran’s stories. “Well she don’t bend no rules for me.”

The boy looks at me for a while before shrugging and grabbing the controller up from his lap. “Another round then?”

“Look at my girl!” Lala grins, taking hurried steps in her strappy heels when she sees me.

“Hey Lala,” I chuckle, wrapping my arms around her to greet the girl. Even with my heels on she was still much taller than me. Our voices echo around the players’ corridors, loud chatter of the girls, especially Arike’s, coming through the closed door behind us where the team was getting ready, hyping each other up.

“You’ll go sit with Kiran right?” I ask, worried I had to abandon my brother who was sitting amongst the crowd all alone - he wasn’t allowed back here.

“Of course, I’ll take care of your baby brother, don’t you worry girl,” the older woman smiles, smoothing over the cropped baby t-shirt and denim skirt I’m wearing. “This is so cute, I’m not used to seeing you so dressed down.”

I chuckle awkwardly, fixing my straightened hair. “You don’t like it?”

“No I love it, pretty girl,” she smiles comfortingly, raising her brow just a little. “I can see some… Paige's influence.”

“Oh, yeah she helped me pick,” I smile bashfully, knowing Lala knew exactly what me and Paige had been up to. There was no reason to say it out loud though.

“She good to you?” She asks, voice lowering just for me to hear. “Because if she’s not you know who to call.”

“She’s perfectly good,” I giggle, my cheeks heating up.

“Who is?”

I know who it is before I turn, that voice at this point burnt into my brain, engraved into me like a tattoo.

“Mind your business,” Lala laughs, wrapping an arm around Arike who emerges from behind Paige. I laugh, feeling the blondes hands hold my waist as she spins me around, to see all of my fit. My body tenses, breath hitches as a natural reaction to her touch. It was impossible to keep my feelings beneath the surface.

“I knew this fit was gon’ be fire. You look fine mama,” she grins, eyeing me up and down. My knees nearly give in.

“Thank you,” I giggle, all desire to hide what’s going on between us disappearing in front of the engaged couple. Who cares, they already knew. I turn to Paige with watchful eyes, her face softening the moment we make eye contact. I loved the way she looked in her jersey, how broad her shoulders seemed, how well the black contrasted her pale skin. I could never get sick of looking at her, though I’d never tell her this.

Not just anyone could’ve told Paige was nervous - but I saw it written all over her. The picking of her cuticles, the smiles she offered others that fell off her face much too quickly, the way she was shifting her weight back and forth, looking around for any distraction from her growing nerves. I had become an expert at reading her.

“Did you watch the new Love Island episode?” I ask the taller girl, elbowing her gently, offering a distraction. Her skin is sticky from the warm-ups earlier.

Paige looks around for a while before even realising she’s being spoken to. “Uhh, nah, didn’t have time,” she murmurs, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

“Five minutes ladies,” one of the assistant coaches yells. The girl beside me exhales heavily, and it was enough for me to know what she was thinking about. The late night discussions we’d had about Olivia Miles, the guilt Paige felt over the jealousy eating away at her. All current projections were showing Miles to be the Rookie of The Year and now she had to play against her, like some personal battle they were fighting. More than just Wings vs Storm. I tried to remind the blonde it was still early, and even Clark had her issues in the beginning. It was bound to happen. I’m not sure if this helped or made it worse for Paige.

“Heyyy, my favourite team!” Trey beams, approaching all of us gathered in the corridors, making our way towards the court. Immediately Paige’s jaw flexes, and I can tell the man’s presence was not appreciated at this moment.

“Shh,” I tell Trey sternly. “Let them get focused,” I shoo him away, hoping this will help the blonde’s nerves. No pep talks, or reassurance, or encouragement had worked before. I had been nothing but sweet and caring and gentle, but it seemed to have no effect on her game. So I decide to change tactics - she was coached by Geno after all. Gentle words might not be what she needs.

As we stand in the dark tunnel with the team, I face Paige, watching the nervous tapping of her hand on her thigh.

“Stop, look at me.”

Without hesitation, her blue eyes flicker to mine, my hand holding her wrist still.

“You’re more than these people say about you, who gives a shit about Olivia Miles? You bust your ass every single day, and for what? Just to give up the crown that easily? I don’t think so, you’ve gone through way worse,” I tell her sternly, my voice quiet but authoritative in the low chatter filling the tunnel. “You’re not here to entertain, you’re not here to let the media use you as a joke, fuck that. Stop playing scared. Stop playing small. If you screw up at least screw up big, keep looking for your shot even if you can’t get a single one in. You’ve got something to prove Paige. Not to me, not to the fans or the haters but to yourself. Remind yourself who you are.”

She stares at me, face blank as she internalises my words.

“Okay girls, let’s go.”

The team begins to head towards the court, but Paige stands still for a second before glancing up, her teammates far gone.

“Wait,” I murmur, my hands reaching for the hem of her jersey and tucking the fabric into her shorts, all around her waist from the back to the front. “Okay, you can go.”

The crowd roars for yet another layup for Gabby, but I barely hear them. It’s as if the crowd is closing in, my ears ringing due to their screaming. I missed both my jumpers, already getting me back into the mindset I had been in the entire season. I’m not good enough, I peaked in college, I wasn’t the player I used to be. On top of everything she is like a pest, constantly on me.

Sweat drips down my back, the jersey that still felt like a stranger’s clinging to me. Olivia is bringing the ball up the court, eyeing for options. We’re face to face, my hands active to find any moment for a stop. She had been on fire all night, the first half of the game gone much like the media expected. Olivia was hot with 16 points, me? A hard earned six, though the five assists were making me feel a little better. Still not confident in the way I used to be.

Miles glances to the side, looking for help from beyond the arc. Everyone’s locked down. Suddenly our eyes meet. I see it. I feel it. She explodes. Her shoulder brushes against mine as she speeds towards the freethrow line. I follow with fast feet and fast hands, matching her steps, staying locked in. No way she was getting this one.

But I’m not fast enough. She hits me with a quick and nasty hesitation move, then snatching back. I stumble, nearly crashing to the ground. By the time I recover, the ball has already left her fingertips. An “ooh” from the ground and a swish. Easy two.

“That’s rookie of the year for you,” she yells at me as her teammates surround her.

She waves at the crowd to get louder, glowing with an ease I couldn’t have felt more jealous over. An ease I used to have. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Not to me. My jaw flexes and I grind my teeth together, trying to keep my composure the UConn way. She jogs past me, shooting me a smile that says “you got nothin’ on me”. The pounding in my head grows with the noise of the crowd. It’s as if they’re all mocking me, reminding me of who I used to be.

“C’mon P,” Arike screams, patting my butt as she jogs by. I glance to the sidelines, my eyes finding the dark haired girl standing by the team, clasping her hands and furrowing her brows. On top of everything now I was disappointing her too.

“Fuck!” I scream, hitting the cubby as we walk into the dressing room. My anger had been growing exponentially the last few minutes of the first half, but the almost lazy deep three by Miles right in my face had been the cherry on top. It kept playing over and over in my head, the late hand, the way the crowd got on their feet and roared. My face is burning as I throw the towel over my head and groan.

“I need a minute,” I hiss, pushing out of the room as my team rolls in, past Satou and Lou into the tunnel. I rub the bridge of my nose vigorously, leaning my sweaty back against the cool tile of the walls. The whole room was spinning, all my frustration accumulated along the season peaking - all of it directed at Miles. I couldn’t handle having to face the fact it was my own doing. Blaming someone else was so much easier.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, the tapping of her heels echoing around the tunnel. I remain quiet, focusing on the ringing and pounding in my head.

“Paige,” she repeats, more sternly. I open my eyes to find her standing in front of me, looking serious as ever.

“God dammit,” I complain, sliding against the wall onto the floor, my legs bent at the knees as I lean my elbows against them.

“Get up, c’mon,” Izzie mumbles, pulling onto my forearm but with not much success. So instead she sits on the cold floor in front of me, her hands rubbing on my bare calves, not caring that they were dripping with sweat.

“What do I have to say to get you out of your head?” She asks, green eyes roaming my face. I could feel anger, frustration bubbling right underneath.

“I dunno,” I mumble. I felt imprisoned in my mind, stuck in a cage without a way out, locked in without a key.

“Think!” She scoffs, pushing on my arm. My chest heaves as I take deep breaths, rummaging my mind for anything. “What did you do at UConn when you got in your head?”

I chuckle bitterly. “I didn’t have time to, Geno was too quick to get on my ass.”

Izzie looks at me, raising her brows. “Okay, and what would Geno say now?”

He would cuss me out, first of all. Telling me he’s never seen a person play this shit in his life. That I’m the worst person he’s ever coached, that I think I know better even though I don’t know anything. That I might as well stop playing and be benched for the rest of the season because it seems I don’t want it bad enough. That Miles wants it more than I do and that’s why she’s winning. That I’ve gotten lazy, weak. Acting like I don’t even care.

I feel a fire in the pit of my stomach, just a wavering flame now. But it’s reminiscent of something I felt what seemed like a long time ago. In March. The sense of urgency. It’s right there, it’s been there the entire time. I thought it was gone for good.

“Bueckers, inside,” Chris says as he enters the tunnel, pointing at the door. I don’t have the time or sense to say a word to Izzie as I help her off the ground. But before I turn she squeezes my arm encouragingly.

“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, time to wake up P. This isn’t her court, it’s yours.”

The gentle flame was growing, stirring within me now. Beginning of the third quarter had the crowd buzzing with newfound energy, I could feel it echoing around the court, bouncing off the walls, onto me. Time to stop feeling sorry for yourself. Remember who you are. This is my court. My team. I want this more than she does.

I’m face to face with Miles again as I bring the ball up the court, seeing Satou and Arike prepared for any play that I would run. I dribble the ball between my legs thinking for the smartest move, the game like a chess match in my head, when I realise I’ve got a checkmate right here.

I fake trying to push past Miles, who takes steps back accordingly. Before she has time to catch up to what I’m doing, I step back beyond the arc and get settled, letting the ball fly. I had done this a thousand times before. Please God, give it back to me.

Swish.

“Bueckers with a stepback three, and… It’s good!”

The crowd rises to its feet, cheering for my first made three in the last six games. I don’t celebrate, the UConn discipline still running blue in my veins. But Arike grins, tapping my butt when she runs past. I feel a wave of relief, looking up in a silent prayer of gratitude.

The jealousy and anger I felt towards Miles quickly turned to a newfound fire, making use of my aggression in defence. I’m quick, keeping up with her like a pest. She’s nearly completely locked down, having no other choice but to pass the ball over and over again.

“Another steal for Bueckers, her third of the quarter. She is hot right now. Haven't seen her like this all season.”

I finish with an easy layup, Storm’s defense was not fast enough to catch up. Satou laughs, squeezing my shoulders.

“That’s our rookie!” She exclaims, and I finally allow myself a smile. I can tell Olivia’s getting frustrated as a timeout is called, walking to the bench looking down, rubbing her sweaty face. I’m back, baby.

“Bueckers scored 12 in that quarter alone, it’s looking up for her. If she keeps this up this might be her first 20 point game of the season. Something we’re used to seeing from Bueckers in college but have been waiting patiently for in the league.”

The fourth has her getting desperate, frustrated. I can see it in her eyes, even the way she’s moving with the ball. Hectic, messy. I hope Geno’s watching the game. He’d give me a tap on the shoulder now. I got Olivia Miles stressing.

Her desperate shot at a three is disrupted by my quick hand, hitting the board. Before I can even think about boxing anyone out, Arike is catching the rebound, eyes on me. It’s all I need to know what to do.

I run up the court, Miles right behind me. But I’m faster, catching the long pass from Arike. As I jump into the air for the fast layup, Miles’ body crashes into mine, both of us tumbling to the ground. My eyes remain on the ball, the adrenaline in my body making the collision that would surely bruise my shoulder feel like a playful poke. As the ball falls through the net for the finish, I hear a whistle. And one.

The crowd cheers, the team in the Wings jerseys running to me to help me up. I laugh on the ground as Miles curses, her teammates holding her back to cool her down. As I rise, Arike chest bumps me, screaming something I barely hear into my ear, too focused on watching Miles shake her team off, stomping to the refs to complain about the whistle.

“Fuck is you talkin’ bout!” I yell at Miles, to rile her up even further. Our eyes meet, her nostrils flared with frustration. My chest heaves and my body burns with confidence and a fire as I make my way to the freethrow line. I had finally arrived in Dallas.

“Shot Clock off, ball with the Wings.”

I glance at the score, 78-80. I just need a two pointer, maybe a middie would be the best bet. I thread the ball between my legs, Miles right where she had been the entire game. In my face. She’s focused now, using her anger as fuel. I know there’s a better option than me to take this shot. Yeah I’d been hot, but I wasn’t reliable this season. I pass the ball to Arike, setting a screen for a three. But she won’t take it, passing the ball into the paint to Satou. Gabby got her way too locked down. I move to the weakside corner beyond the arc, as Satou draws in defence by working the paint, instead passing the ball to now open Arike. Defence follows, just a tiny bit too slow. But she won’t shoot it.

Arike glances at me, gets settled to draw in more of the defence leaving me completely open. Instead she passes the ball to me, her eyes locked onto my face. Expression full of confidence, telling me she believes in me. She could have shot the game-winning three, but she knew it was me who needed this win. Not her. Not the rest of the team. Me.

I let the ball fly, blue eyes following as it glides in the air. Olivia jumps, but just a little too late, stumbling as she hits the ground. It feels as if the arena is silent, the only sound is the pounding in my head as the ball comes down. Swish.

I’m not even sure what’s happening when my teammates crash into me, shoving and pushing on me hard enough to leave bruises. But I don’t care, a smile so wide on my face my cheeks begin to hurt. The crowd is on its feet, jumping up and down as I begin to jog around the court, like some sort of victory lap. In a way it sort of was.

My eyes find our bench, Chris smiling widely at me. But my gaze eventually lands on Izzie who’s jumping up and down, telling Trey to keep the camera on me. Her face is sparkling with pride and glee, the aggression and fire still in flames inside me.

“Paige!” A reporter stops me, as I try to catch my breath, smiling with joy. “Paige, 27 points, 10 assists. Your first 20 point game of the season. First double-double of the season. Great game from you overall, how do you feel right now?”

I grin at the camera, squeezing my eyes shut from how wide my lips are spreading. “‘Bout time,” I laugh, wiping the sweat off my neck.

“Paige, where are we going?” I whisper as the blonde drags me by my wrist into the very familiar storage room. She wasn’t talking. Matter of fact she hadn’t said a word, gripping my arm tightly the second we entered the tunnel and pulling me away from everyone. Her fingertips were pressing tightly enough to leave a bruise, as she closes the door behind us, turning on the fluorescent light.

“Paige, you were unbelievable, I know you co-” but I’m interrupted by a starved, harsh kiss. Teeth colliding as she grabs my dark hair tenaciously, pulling on it to maneuver my movements. Her other hand finds the hem of my baby tee with ease, pulling it up to reveal the see through lace bra underneath. Suddenly my body turns to putty, knees trembling at the force which with the blonde is kissing me. Taking control in a way I wasn’t accustomed to. Just like she had of her game on the court.

“P-paige,” I gasp as her lips kiss sloppily around my jaw, getting saliva all over my face and neck. “You’ve got press soon,” I remind her, my voice weak and shaky, already a puddle between my thighs as the girl holds me, lips working me with ease.

“Shut up,” she says, a strange authoritative tone in her voice. I pull back, glancing up at her.

“Excuse me.”

But Paige grabs my jaw, eyeing me underneath her heavy lids in a way that makes me feel small. Not the one in control.

“Shut the fuck up Iz,” she hisses, pushing me harshly into the wall behind me. My breathing grows ragged, the blonde’s lips back on my neck, sucking desperately. The room is spinning, and I’m getting overwhelmingly wet at Paige’s newfound dominance.

“You think you can just wear a skirt like this and I won’t fuck you? Nah, you’re a smart girl. You knew whatchu were doin’.” She murmurs into my ear, grabbing my thighs. There are chills running up and down my body, driving me wild.

“Paige,” I mumble, not sure what for as she pulls my shirt off, unbuckling my bra. My cheeks turn red, overwhelmed by the way she’s handling me.

“Need to see these tits,” she groans, pulling back to eye them. I feel a little unsure under the bright, unforgiving light but the look the blonde gets on her face quickly reassures me.

“Goddamn, you’re so sexy,” she moans and latches onto my nipple, her plump lips sucking on it. I bring my hands to her hair, but she grabs onto my wrists and pushes them against the cool wall. I gasp at her aggressiveness.

“But the lights,” I mumble, feeling my thighs burn as if on fire.

“Baby, you gotta keep your pretty mouth shut and lemme fuck you.”

Suddenly her fingertips are pushing against my thigh, forcing the denim skirt to ride up all the way to my waist. Her hand travels straight to my core, rubbing the fabric of my panties along the slit with her thumb. It’s no shock to me when the satin grows wet in a matter of seconds, my cunt already crying out for the blonde. A desperate whine leaves my mouth as I bite my lower lip, trying not to worry about the press conference that would be starting in a matter of minutes.

“Such a slut,” Paige hisses, kissing my breasts. I’m nearly offended, but for some reason her words were making me want her even more, making me more desperate. I had never been talked to like that before. I could feel my body submitting to her.

I’m too dumbfounded to answer when she spins me around with rough hands, pressing my front into the cold tile of the wall, hand gripping my hair to yank my head back. “Answer me. You’re a slut huh? Wantin’ me to fuck you so bad couldn’t even wait till we got home?”

“Paige,” my voice is breathy, trembling badly. She’s right of course, but my ego or my pride won’t allow the words to come out.

“You wanna cum ma?” She hisses, her breath hot in my ear. I nod eagerly, feeling my wetness begin to gather enough to drip down the insides of my thighs.

“Yes baby,” I cry out in a quiet voice. Paige grins in that familiar, arrogant way, chuckling smugly. It feels humiliating, which only drives me wilder for some reason.

“I can tell,” she teases, smacking my ass. It echoes around the tight storage room, surely loud enough to be heard from the outside. But neither of us care, especially when she swiftly hooks her fingers around my panties and pulls them down, letting them pool at my ankles. I feel the blonde move back, gripping the skin of my ass harshly to get a better view of my dripping cunt, glistening in the fluorescent light.

“Shit, ma,” she groans, unable to resist. Suddenly, three of her fingers slide into me, the stretch causing a jolt to run through my body.

I gasp loudly at the sudden intrusion, reaching back to grip Paige’s wrist. It was too much, way too intense for the setting, for me to remain quiet. But the blonde grabs onto my hand, pushing it away roughly. I nearly resist but then, her fingers curl inside me, against the soft tissue of my walls, and I nearly crash down. I let out a soft moan, nails scratching against the wall as she fucks me from behind with her fingers, my wetness gushing enough to be dripping down to her wrist and forearm.

“That’s it,” she praises, watching my ass jiggle each time she thrusts her fingers. “Goddamn I need to strap you.”

At this I let out a louder moan, the idea getting me even slicker. Paige chuckles, groaning to herself again.

“Yeah? You’d like that ma?”

I turn my head to glance back at her, cheek against the tile of the wall as I nod, eyes low with pleasure.

“Course you would,” she hisses, speeding up the movement of her fingers. “You act like you so sweet and classy, but I know you like to be fucked like a slut.”

I nod, eyes watering from how fast Paige’s fingers are curling inside my dripping cunt, the stretch turning from pain into something heavenly. I could feel my pussy squeezing her long digits, pulsing around them in desperation, gripping onto them as hard as it could.

“Tell me,” Paige says sternly, meeting my gaze. Her eyes are low and heavy, lips parted with want, hair falling out of her low pony, onto her face.

“Like the way you fuck me P,” I whine, embarrassed by the words. But it only riles the blonde on, as she brings her other hand to my front, reaching down to start rubbing tight, fast circles on my clit.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp, eyes rolling back as the pit in my stomach grows almost humiliatingly fast. The sound of the squelching a constant reminder of how much, no matter what I liked to pretend, Paige was the one to have control over me, instead of me over her.

“C’mon baby, be a good girl,” she groans, pressing sloppy kisses into my neck.

“I-” I gasp, feeling the knot in my stomach tighten and tighten, on the edge of bursting. “I’m close.”

“You wanna cum?” She asks to which I nod. “Ask nicely.”

I groan, eyes rolling back. I never liked being told what to do. But the way Paige’s fingers were slipping in and out of me, hitting the perfect spot to make me drip all over her hand, was making me weak, desperate. I would do anything right now. Just to cum. The idea of that felt filthy.

“Please P, please let me cum,” I whine, mind completely blank and forgotten about the press conference, or the possibility of people outside. No, the only thing that existed was me, Paige and her heavy breathing in my ear. “Please,” I cry out, doing everything I can to hold back.

“Good girl,” she coos into my eyes, nuzzling my neck with her nose. “Come on mama, cum.”

Obediently, my body finally rolls over the edge, trembling and shaking as Paige’s hands work my cunt skillfully. I’m gasping for air, the waves of pleasure making goosebumps rise all over my skin, my nipples hardening against the tile. My eyes roll back in ecstasy as the blonde pumps her fingers harshly, eventually slowing down to let me ride it out.

We’re both breathing loudly when she finally pulls away, leaving me with a strange kind of emptiness. I dress in silence, Paige watching me closely. Once I’m all covered up, she walks over and presses a kiss on my forehead. I hum, checking my phone.

“Shit, Paige you must go,” I hurry her, unlocking the door back into the tunnels. Empty, thank God. “You’re late, everyone’s looking for you.”

“Aight, I’m going,” she sighs, about to step out when she turns back around, grabbing my face and kissing it. I kiss her back, smiling against her lips.

“Go!” I giggle, pushing her away.

“Fine!” She laughs, walking out of the room backwards, to keep watching me for as long as she possibly could.

“That was some game Bueckers,” I tell her, which only makes her smile even more as she turns around and begins to jog towards the conference.

“And that three at the end was insane! Dude, you were all in Olivia’s face she looked like she was going to cry honestly…” Kiran explains excitedly, hands flailing around the air as he reimagines his favourite moments of the game. I grin, leaning back in the booth and sipping my hard earned beer. Arike nods, as engaged in the conversation as the boy beside me, clapping her hands together loudly.

“Yo, when Miles got into the refs faces I thought she was gon’ get a tech for sureeee,” Rike chimes in, barely containing her grin.

“Keep playing like that and we got rookie of the year right here,” Lou smiles, clinking the glass bottle with mine. I smile bashfully, looking around the bar a little embarrassed. It was a dingy, quiet one with low lighting, filled with people but we were definitely the loudest ones here.

“Fuck rookie of the year, how’ bout we get that ring,” Arike says confidently. I cover my face with my hand. We both knew that it would be far from our reach this year, but perhaps after a few years of playing together we could have a shot. It was bound to happen. Still, as I got to know Arike more, I learned she liked to exaggerate.

“Aight, enough,” I tell them, patting Kiran on the shoulder. “Let’s get you another drink,” I smile, waving the waitress over.

“Iz will be mad if you get me drunk,” he jokes.

I shrug, finishing my beer. “Let her, it’s your last night here.”

The waitress walks over, long braids and a sweet, Texas smile on her face as she approaches.

“What can I get y’all?” She asks. There’s a perky lilt to her voice, a glimmer in her eye that was far too familiar to me. Her brown eyes stay on mine, before looking me up and down noticeably.

“Two beers,” I simply say, not so affected by the clear hints the girl was giving me although she was clearly gorgeous. Honestly, since I met Iz, I couldn’t even think about another girl. Who would’ve thought. College me would be flabbergasted.

“Nothin’ else for you baby?” She asks, the pet name making Kiran snicker underneath his breath. I grin in a polite way, shaking my head at the waitress.

“Nah, thank you, we’re good.”

She nods, getting the hint. “Well, let me know if you change your mind.”

“Wow, that’s brave,” Kiran laughs as the waitress walks away. “Thinking you’re a lesbian.”

Me, Arike and Lou all turn to Kiran, raising our brows at the same time.

“Hollup,” Arike says, pointing at me. “You think this girl right here is straight?”

Suddenly Kiran’s face turns red, eyes flickering between me and the woman next to me.

“Uhh,” he mumbles. “I mean, Izzie said you’re gay but I thought that was just her joking around.”

At the same exact time, Arike and Lou burst into a choir of laughter, the corners of my mouth curling into a smile as well.

“Oh Kiran,” Lou gasps between laughs, reaching over to ruffle his hair. He had honestly become almost like a little brother only in the week he had spent with us. I knew I’d miss him once he was gone.

“W- So,” He mumbles, looking at me. “You’re gay?”

I nod, pressing my lips together in a tight smile. “Yeah, Kiran, I’m gay.”

“Ohhhh,” he says in realisation. “That makes sense then.”

“You know me and Lala ain’t just friends either?” Arike jokes, making the boy roll his eyes, much like his sister would. God I missed her, but she had to stay behind after the post game conference to schedule some content. Still, even a couple hours apart felt like torture.

“Well yes, you’ve got your hand on her ass 24/7.”

We all chuckle, as the waitress returns, holding two beer bottles in her hands.

“Thank you,” I grin, grabbing it from her. She flashes me a wide smile, before returning behind the bar.

“So why won’t you ask her out then?” Kiran asks, pointing to the pretty waitress with his bottle.

I shift nervously, rummaging my head for an excuse.

“Is she not your type?”

“Nah, it’s not that,” I quickly answer, looking at the girls beside me for any help. But both of them are looking away, pretending to be engaged in a conversation of their own. Traitors.

“Uh, just wanna focus on hoops for a bit.”

Kiran chuckles. “Well, you don’t have to look for a relationship. Why not get with her just for a shag.”

“Uhh, well,” I mumble, my face turning red. Just as Kiran begins to wave the waitress over, Izzie’s voice stops him.

“Are you drinking again?” She scolds her brother. I turn my head to find her standing behind me, arms crossed and face scrunched. I guess it had been a stressful evening for her. My heart aches, wanting nothing more than to sit her beside me, let her order anything she wanted and drive her home to take care of her, to allow her to relax. Every cell in my being wanted to serve her.

“Paige said it’s okay,” Kiran argues. Her green eyes flicker to me, making me nervous and regretful.

“Paige,” she scoffs, everyone around us laughing at our dynamic.

“‘M sorry, it’s the beer. It’s bad for my judgement,” I whine, earning a smile from the girl. It makes me want to burst.

“You’re a constant pain my ass Paige,” she jokes, signalling for her brother to stand up so she can sit beside me. The minute I feel her bare thigh pressing into mine, my body calms down, all my muscles relaxing miraculously.

“I think you like it,” I whisper into her ear, giving her cheek a kiss. Platonic enough to seem friendly to her brother.

“So,” Kiran says, leaning forward. “Paige thinks that waitress is fit.”

Oh God. I watch as Izzie’s eyes follow where her brother is pointing, eyeing the girl before looking at me. Her gaze sharpens, entire demeanor growing tense.

“Oh,” she mutters, furrowing her dark brows. “I see.”

“No, no, that’s not what I said,” I immediately jump in, scolding Kiran. But he simply shakes his head.

“I reckon she should go ask for her number, what do you think Iz?”

The girl shifts so our sides aren’t touching anymore, crossing her arms over her chest. She’s upset, a blind man could tell.

“I think Paige can do what she wants,” she says coldly, avoiding my gaze. Arike covers her mouth to hide her laughter.

“Kiran,” Rike hisses, trying to get him to stop. It’s no use.

“Yeah, she came over and was calling her baby and everything,” Kiran continues, my cheeks burning bright red now.

“I see, well that’s nice,” Izzie mumbles, pulling out her phone just to slide back and forth between her home screens. “Go ahead, do it.”

“No Iz, c’mon,” I say, my hand coming to stroke her thigh gently underneath the table. But she pulls away. I couldn’t lie though, there was a part of me feeling satisfied - Izzie liked me enough to get upset over something like this.

I exhale, knowing this might be stupid move. But I couldn’t bare to have Izzie upset with me. “Kiran, I’m already sorta seeing someone,” I say hesitantly, knowing this was the only way. “She’s awesome, Ion wanna ruin it. I’m so into her.”

Izzie’s green eyes turn to me, our gazes meeting. Her face softens, and slowly she presses against my side again. I feel flutters overwhelming my chest, wanting nothing more than to kiss her right now.

“Oh, my apologies,” Kiran says understandingly, though his hazel eyes remain on me and Iz, watchful.

“Is it someone I know?” He asks.

Me and Izara stare into each other for a moment, and I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Maybe her brother deserved to know, maybe he would even like us being together. He certainly liked me, and I liked him.

But the reality is, no one should know, and far too many people already did. As much as I wanted to show everyone she was mine, to shout it from the rooftops, I wanted to keep her here much more.

“Uh, no,” I mumble, finally breaking eye contact. Iz does the same, smiling awkwardly at her brother. Kiran nods, eyes flickering between me and his sister for a while.

“I’m kinda hungry,” Lou complains, eyes skimming the bar. “They do any food here?”

“I think so,” Izzie says, standing up in the booth to look for a menu, until she spots a pile of them stacked at the corner of the bar. “I hope they have mozzarella sticks.”

“You and your damn mozzarella sticks,” I laugh, still aware of Kiran’s hazel eyes locked on me and Iz. I ignore it, standing up with Izara and following her to the bar. She grabs the maroon menu with her slender fingers decorated with gold rings, skimming over the pages.

“They do have mozzarella sticks!” She grins. I smile at her warmly, her excitement heating up my chest. “You girls probably want some wings huh?”

“Yes ma’am,” I smile, leaning over her shoulder to read the menu from behind her. Discreetly, the girl presses her butt into my hips, ever so slightly leaning backwards to send jolts all over my body. My hands are itching to touch her, to hold her waist - in an attempt to resist I slide them into the pocket of my hoodie, keeping them restricted.

“Kiran too, and maybe some fries?” She asks. I turn around, yelling to Kiran over the chatter of the bar.

“Yo, Kiran,” I shout. “Whatchu want?”

Izzie murmurs something, but I barely hear her, trying to make sense of what Kiran is trying to reply all the way from our booth.

“Paigeuhh!” Izzie whines, her hand reaching up and yanking on my sleeve, and then my hood, in an attempt to get my attention. But I don’t turn, because I can see Kiran’s movements stop for a millisecond, eyes suddenly widening in shock, realisation finally hitting him. It’s then I remember the story of Izara, and her childhood crush, and the pulling on the hood. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

We stare at each other, frozen in time. I rummage my mind for a reason, for an excuse, for anything I could use to hide what’s been going on. But the evidence is stacked against us and for the first time, Kiran is finally realising it.

He stands up from the booth, walking briskly to me and Izzie. For a second I think he’s just going to blurt it out, chew Izzie off for not telling him. And I know she’d blame me for it, maybe even start questioning our relationship. I feel my chest aching, my breathing getting heavy.

“Oh, Ki, should we get fries?” Izara asks, oblivious to the past half a minute as her pretty green eyes skim the menu.

“Paige, you got a sec? Can we talk?” Kiran asks, with the authoritative, stern voice of his sister. I knew they were similar, but in this moment as the boy’s face hardened, the family resemblance really came through.

“Uh, sure,” I mumble, cheeks burning up. I hand Izzie my card, tapping her on the arm as platonically as I can, now feeling bashful under Kiran’s knowing eyes. “Order whatever you want Iz.”

Me and Kiran walk around the bar, to the terrace buzzing with people, clumsy and tipsy with alcohol. It smells like dried up beer, and sunscreen as we push through to a less crowded corner, me following right behind the boy.

Finally he stops, turning around. There’s a moment he doesn’t speak, and I think he’s about to punch me. But as he exhales, a sly smile grows on his face,

“Man, I had a feeling something was up. I’ve never seen Izzie acting like that around her friends,” he chuckles, but I’m still having a hard time reading how he really feels about it. For a moment I consider just lying, pretending I don’t know what he’s talking about. But it’s too late, and I’m too tired. I want him to know.

“Kiran, I shoulda said sumn,” I murmur, rubbing the bridge of my nose.

“Nah, my sister should have,” Kiran says, sipping his beer.

“She’s just tryna protect us, we’re tryna keep it on the low y’know,” I immediately defend Izzie.

“No, I understand,” he nods, thinking for a while. “I just feel so stupid. She came out to me a few years ago, before, y’know, Jasper, but I didn’t believe her. I just thought she was one of those girls who wanted to be interesting by saying they like girls too. Never thought she’d actually… Be with a girl.”

I swallow, looking at my feet. “Is that bad? That… uh, that she’s with a girl?”

“No, not at all,” Kiran immediately stops me, making his stance on the thing clear. “She’s just been through so much, I worry about her. She always picks the wrong people.”

I chuckle, nodding. “Yeah, so I heard,” I say. “But I’m not like that. Would rather die than hurt that girl.”

He looks at me, wondering. “So is this like a thing-thing, or just something casual?”

I meet his hazel eyes. “We ain’t talk yet,” I say truthfully. “But personally? I’m pretty locked down.”

Kiran keeps watching me.

“She’s amazing, wouldn’t even dream of hurtin’ her.”

“Good, because if you do, we got trouble,” he says, and I believe him. Truthfully, it’s her who could really hurt me. Not the other way around.

“I’m countin’ on that,” I grin. After a moment of hesitation, Kiran wraps an arm around me, and hugs me just for a moment, patting my back.

“You’re a good person, I know you’ll take care of her.”

“Always gonna,” I hug him back, before pulling away.

“We shouldn’t tell her that I know, she’s going to freak out.”

I laugh. “Yeah, let’s just keep it between us, yeah?”

“Just so you know,” Kiran chuckles as we begin to head back inside. “If this ends badly I’m always siding with her.”

I laugh, finishing my beer. “Yeah, I’d side with her too.”

“Oh, you got it that bad?”

“Worse.”

“Passport? Charger? Wallet? Waterbottle? Did you remember to pack your jersey?” I ask as me and Kiran head towards TSA, Paige following a little behind.

“You’re acting like I didn’t make a list,” Kiran groans, earning a snicker from the blonde.

“Okay and you still forget stuff so what’s your point?”

My brother stops, grabbing my shoulders and looking at me reassuringly. “Izara, I have everything. Stop worrying. You’re being like mum.”

The truth was I wasn’t worrying about his luggage, I was worrying about him leaving. My chest ached with anxiety and dread, thinking of the moment we had to say goodbye. I loved Dallas, but my God I wanted my brother here more than anything.

“Okay,” I sigh, fully aware that it was time to say goodbye. I wanted to delay the moment, do anything to push it back just a minute more. But there was no choice, I’d have to face it sometime. Paige, noticing my anxiety, places a big hand on my shoulder and rubs. It’s a comforting and grounding presence that I’m glad to have right now.

“We’ll see each other soon, yeah?” Kiran comforts me. I nod, feeling my eyes begin to well up. Great. I hate crying in front of people.

My brother turns to Paige, smiling in a way that meant something more, but what? I couldn’t tell.

“Take care of her,” Kiran says before hugging the blonde. Paige pats his upper back, nodding as she really takes the words in, like they mean more than what’s being said.

“Always, you take care bro.”

“And come to London, Izzie will bring you.”

I scoff. “I will?”

“You must,” Kiran smiles, pulling back. “And don’t be too hard on her,” he says half jokingly, turning to me. I’m not sure what he means, but before I can ask, he’s wrapping his arms around me. I hug him back, fighting the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’ll miss you,” I simply say, wishing I could keep my brother here forever.

“I’ll miss you too Iz,” he replies, his voice softer than usual.

“Tell mum and dad I said hi.”

“Okay.”

“And text me when you land.”

“Okay.”

“A-and when you board.”

“Iz,” he laughs, pulling back. “I’ll text you the entire way home, okay?”

I nod, exhaling heavily before letting my hands fall to my side from around him. My eyes burn, my throat feels like it’s about to close. But I don’t cry. I refuse.

“Okay, see you,” he flashes that bright, familiar smile, grabbing his carry-on and finally turning around.

“Safe travels,” I mumble, watching as he stands in the queue, waiting for his turn. Paige’s arm snakes around my waist comfortingly as I chew on my bottom lip, anxiety washing over me. I lean my head to her side, not caring about Kiran possibly noticing.

“C’mon,” Paige says carefully, “Let's go home.”

The drive is silent, as I stare out the window, trying to ignore the pain spreading over my chest and throat. It’s like Dallas knew that Kiran left, the sky a gloomy grey and the mixture of humidity and heat making it overbearing and sticky. There’s a storm brewing. You could feel it. The air shifts, the wind picks up.

Paige walks me to my door, leaning against the frame as I take off my shoes.

“You okay mama?” The blonde asks, watching me closely. The moment she does, I burst into tears, finally getting relief from the burning of my eyes. Without hesitating for a second, Paige steps in and wraps me in her arms, like a cocoon of comfort, closing the door behind her.

“Hey,” she comforts, holding me tightly and kissing the top of my head. “Shh, you’re okay Iz.”

She scoops me in her arms, like I’m the lightest person in the world. I cling to her, holding onto her hood as she’s walking me to my couch and placing me down as carefully as she could. Before I can even notice she’s brought me snacks, water, tissues and there’s a movie on, though I’m barely watching, my eyes wet and red with tears.

“I hate goodbyes,” I sniffle.

“I know,” Paige mumbles softly, wiping a tear from my soft cheek, her fingertips cold against my skin.

“Thanks for staying.”

Paige scoots herself between me and the corner of the couch, letting me sit in her lap while she holds me all evening, simply letting me cry. Not trying to distract me, or make me feel bad. She simply lets me feel it all, making me feel safe to do so for the first time in years.

My arm grows tingly and numb, but I’m too afraid to move it in case it might disturb the sleeping girl. Izzie’s eyes are closed, long lashes pressed against her cheeks as she breathes heavily in her slumber. Her face is puffy and red from crying, lips uncharacteristically chapped from all the biting. I kiss her forehead gently, pulling my arm from under her as carefully as I possibly could.

I stop as she stirs, but quickly becomes motionless again, giving me a chance to escape just for a moment. I climb over the corner of the couch, fixing the blanket over the girl. It felt special to know she felt comfortable enough to be this vulnerable with me. I knew it wasn’t easy for her. Yet she still lets me take care of her like this. Not Trey, not Jasper, me.

I take light steps into her bedroom, rummaging my brain for any sort of chapstick she might have. I check her purse, but there’s nothing. No sign of chapstick. Frustrated, I begin to go through the drawers of her nightstand, finally getting to the bottom one. I kneel over it, moving piles of neatly organised papers out of the way when I see it.

Together with their parents, Jasper Hughes and Izara Chopra request the honor of your presence at their wedding on June 20th 2025 at one o’clock in the afternoon Syon Park Brent Lea, Brentford Reception immediately after Black tie required

The words are printed on a thick, cream coloured paper that feels silky to the touch, heavy in my hands. It’s clean, timeless - the calligraphy gold-embellished and elegant against a backdrop of soft ivory, a silk ribbon carelessly left open around it. My blue eyes read it again and again before I take it in. A wedding. Izara’s wedding. Izzie’s and Jasper’s. Wedding. A wedding I had never heard about. A past kept hidden from me, for a reason I didn’t want to find out.

I drop the invite back into the drawer, crashing down onto the ground, frustration growing within me. My chest heaves and feels tight, like I might be sick. Why would she have kept this from me? She was engaged? The room feels like closing in, my eyes burning hot all of a sudden.

I feel like a joke, checking the date on my phone. June 20th. Kiran had come here to be with her so she could make it through this time. And here I was comforting her, over something I thought was completely different thinking we were something more. I felt like a fool, like an idiot. Just a rebound to someone who had been getting married. Fucking married. Without telling me. I thought we told each other everything.

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers @ohmybueckers @potatobears-world @st4yyyy @wnbawag @maryjanewatsons @naeswrrldd @she-is-my-unrequited-love34 @paige05bby @paigebaby5

#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x fem reader #wlw smut #paige bueckers x fem oc

426 notes · View notes

yutarot · 4 months ago

Text

cozy. n.jm

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ childhood bff!jaemin, snowboarding au, fwb, sfw

synopsis. you and jaemin have been inseparable since you were children. when you and a few of your friends go on your annual mountain ski trip, the air grows tense when they find out that you and jaemin have been sleeping together. so what happens when an overnight snowstorm extends your trip, bringing a sudden change of plans and a very unlikely guest to your vacation: jaemins crush. will your friendship survive within the cold presence of snow or will it melt away once the sun rises.

wc: 6.8k

warnings. implied sex, suggestive, language, jaemin sucks, miscommunication (sorry), yn is wayy too nice in this

notes — ty to the anon who gave me this idea hehe i immeeediately thought of jaemin so i had to write it. i hope u enjoy this it was fun to write (also ended up being way longer than i expected butttt oh well)

the trip started 4 days ago.

you always loved your winter ski trips. you loved the way the snow glistened under the sun, illuminating the sky line in a crisp peach orange. you loved the way you could become carefree, no worries of college or having to pick up extra shifts at the cafe. it was always perfect, a spirited culmination of a frosty vacation.

like usual, you unpacked at lightning speed, occupying the room directly between jaemin and jisung and opposite chenle. as kids, you and mark used to argue over who got the room that you stay in, it being the only room in the cabin with a double bed, but after many years of relentless fighting, you always managed to beat him.

the five of you have been friends since before you could remember, constant pranks and silliness as kids soon became reliability and comfort as you grow into your late teens. but now that you all attend college together, you’re closer than ever.

admittedly, you’ve always been closer to jaemin than the rest, your childhood homes being next to each other, serving as a reason for you to play out in the street each evening after school. even as you entered high school and eventually college, you stayed close, despite jaemin’s tendencies to sleep around with girls and eventually ghost them soon after.

you would be mad at jaemin’s exploits, but you can’t exactly say that being mad at someone’s past actions is entirely justifiable, especially since his playboy behaviour has recently become less frequent.

the air in the cabin is surprisingly warm, a crisp layer of frost encasing the windows and blocking the breeze of snow as it falls upon the mountain that the cabin rests between. the sky, once blue, is now an iridescent hue of orange, reflecting off the snow on the ground and pulsing through the window and onto the wooden walls around you, making them glow. it is an utterly beautiful place, and you thank chenle’s parents for letting you stay here each winter unsupervised.

as you walk through the walkway and into the main room, you spot chenle upon the sofa, browsing the old vintage tv for any channels that don’t bore him profusely. mark and jaemin are playing a game of chess on the floor, resting themselves upon fluffy white cushions and muttering snarky comments to each other under their breaths. noticing your presence, chenle clears his throat, causing mark to look up at you, and eventually, jaemin to spin his body round in your direction.

“i’m bored.” you say, “that tv looks way too old to function and i don’t know how to play chess.”

chenle speaks first, “well, i mean, maybe if you actually spend some time with us, you might have some fun.”

“sounds like a blast.” you say sarcastically, “i just think we should go out and do something in the snow instead of just being all cooped up in here for the third day in a row.”

“it’s too cold.” jaemin utters, “usually it’s not this bad.”

“and? just put on an extra layer.” you reply, looking to mark for help.

sighing, mark speaks up to agree with you, and with his help, you eventually manage to convince chenle and jaemin to go and wake up jisung, before layering up and grabbing your snowboards from the shed behind the cabin.

as you all walk across the mountain to the ski area, occasionally partaking in a small snowball fight on the way, you hurl yourselves onto the ski lifts.

you sit in between jaemin and mark, ignoring mark’s teasing as you struggle to get yourself seated.

once the lift begins to climb, you feel an immediate sense of calm. you’ve always enjoyed these trips, a moment of relaxation away from home, all with your favourite people. it is true that you wish you could bring your girl friends along, but they all hate the boys with a passion for multiple, various (and valid) reasons, and so, with their permission, you go without them.

lost in your own thoughts, you don’t notice as you suddenly begin to slip from the ski lift, the bar doing absolutely nothing to keep you in place.

“yn?”, you hear jaemin’s voice beside you, a weird sense of distress lining his voice as he quickly grabs a hold of your arm, attempting to lift you back onto the seat.

but it’s no use, the snowboard beneath you weighs you down and you slip from his grasp.

“mark, she’s slipping.” jaemin urges the other boy beside you.

“shit.”

they both try to bring you up, but as you get higher and higher to the top of the slope, the ground begins to find your feet, pulling you down with it.

you stumble before landing upside down into the snow, luckily not sliding anywhere, but unfortunately feeling a sudden frosty chill as piles and piles of snow seep into your clothing and down your back.

noticing your discomfort, jaemin bends down, lifting your face to his and, with a gentle smile, he brushes your snow-covered hair from your face.

“it’s… everywhere.” you shiver.

“everywhere?” jaemin asks.

you roll your eyes. “not the time for jokes.”

it takes you a while to notice mark standing behind jaemin, but when you do, you tell them both to continue on without you and that you’ll find your own way back to the cabin to change your clothes.

nodding after making sure that you’re okay, mark leaves to snowboard down the slope, leaving you and jaemin as you sit, still shaking, covered in ice and snow.

“i’m gonna-“ you say, getting up.

jaemin interrupts. “let me help you.”

“i don’t need help.” you reply.

there is a moment of silence before jaemin speaks again, as if he is choosing his words carefully.

“i know a better way to warm you up.”

your face lines in an expression of shock.

“we promised we wouldn’t do it here.” you say, “what if one of the others see something?”

“they won’t.” he smiles at you before pointing in the direction of the others, all enjoying themselves drifting down the snow, swerving in all kinds of directions.

it doesn’t take much for you to give in. so when you get back to the cabin, eventually changing into some fresh clothes that will eventually be pointless, jaemin turns out to be right.

he does know a way to warm you up.

his request didn’t surprise you, and you’re unsure if the others finding out that you and jaemin have been secretly hooking up for the past year is an all too bad thing. but at the thought of them having a little bit too much fun potentially teasing you both, you decided to keep it on the down-low.

it was never supposed to happen; you and jaemin are best friends. but after jaemin’s vow to stop playing with girls’ hearts and your fresh break up with your ex, you both decided that the logical thing to do is to use each other when you need it. it was simple.

over the past year, you have established 3 main rules for your ‘friends with benefits’ situation. number 1: you and jaemin can both sleep with other people if you so wish, number 2: no feelings are involved, if one person begins to feel anything for the other, then you must break it off. (this one isn’t and never will be a problem for you two, but you need to add it there anyway; you’ve heard the stories about jaemin the ‘serial heartbreaker’, and you definitely don’t want to be a victim of that) and number 3: no sleeping together during the winter ski trip. right now, you are breaking a rule, and neither you, nor jaemin, seem to care. it does scare you a little, however, considering how easily jaemin was willing to break it, and it has you wondering how strong the other rules even are.

after cleaning yourself up, you make your way to the kitchen to make yourself and jaemin a hot chocolate, sprinkling far too much powdered chocolate on the whipped cream and having to clear up all your mess soon after. jaemin follows you into the kitchen, pulling his shirt back over his head.

“can i ask you something?” jaemin says, reaching his arm past you to scoop his finger into the whipped cream and swiping it onto your nose. you push him away, watching as he giggles at you frantically wiping the cream off your nose in annoyance.

“sure.” you reply, and he leans on the counter beside you.

“when was the last time you slept with someone else?”

if you say the question doesn’t surprise you, you’d be lying. jaemin knows you can sleep with other people, it’s part of your rules. so why do you feel as though you’re in trouble?

“last saturday. that party on joomi’s street. eric sohn.”

jaemin’s face is unreadable. you continue, “if you’re worried you have competition, i wouldn’t worry. it was just one night.” you laugh.

“oh, i’m not worried.” he replies, “especially after the way you were saying my name back in there.”

his head tilts to the side to point in the direction of your room and you look over on instinct, memories of the past 30 minutes flashing in your mind and causing you to forget what you were even about to say.

but when you look over to the doorway, something else catches your attention.

or someone else.

standing at the front door, snowboard in hand and ski mask pulled down to his chin, stands a mortified, and astonished mark lee.

you freeze up, and no longer from the cold chill of snow.

he has heard everything.

you’re completely fucked.

❆ ❆ ❆

pacing around the kitchen and watching as mark looks between you both, you begin to attempt to redeem yourself.

“look, mark, that wasn’t what it sounded like, me and jaemin would never.”

mark looks at you, skeptical, before turning his attention to jaemin, who stands in the back corner of the kitchen, leaning against a wall with his arms crossed as if none of this is bothering him.

mark looks back at you. “yoooo, i mean, i guess i always knew there was something off about you guys.”

you rush towards him, clutching his shoulders. “i promise you, mark, it’s not like that-”

“we’re fucking.” jaemin finally speaks, and yours and mark’s heads both whip towards him in shock. jaemin shrugs, as if it isn’t a big deal.

“jaemin.” you say sternly, “what are you doin-”

“what? he caught us, there’s no point in denying it.”

“this is unbelievable.” mark chuckles, “i gotta go tell the others.”

“no you don’t.” you say, grabbing a hold of his arm.

he rolls his eyes. “alright, but at least give me details, man. how long? when did it start? why?”

you look to jaemin, not wanting to answer for yourself.

“about a year,” he says, “and why not?”

“why not?!” mark exclaims in disbelief, “i don’t know, maybe the fact that you’re best friends? what if you end up catching-”

“not gonna happen.” says jaemin, “we dont see eachother like that, never will.”

mark only continues to laugh, “this is nuts. you guys haven’t been doing it all weekend, have you? i don’t think i wanna hear it if you guys end up getting busy while we’re all meant to be asleep.”

“nope,” you reply. “this is the first and only time we’ve done it here. we sort of made it a rule so that this wouldn’t happen.”

before you can finish your conversation, chenle walks through the door. “so what wouldn’t happen?” he says, scanning his eyes between yours and jaemin’s lack of outdoor wear compared to mark’s.

“nothing.” you reply.

“nothing?” he asks, studying mark and jaemin’s expressions.

there is a second where no one speaks, but that seems to be enough for chenle, because the next thing he says is: “you guys fucked, didn’t you?”

mark can’t keep in his smile as he tries not to laugh and give it away, but jaemin’s stern expression speaks volumes.

chenle shrugs before taking off his coat and making his way to the fridge, “ehh, was sort of obvious anyways.”

“what?” you exclaim, “how?”

his eyebrow raises as he takes a bite of the donut he had taken out its packet, “jaemin swearing off girls the same time as you breaking up with your ex, you constantly ditching our movie nights to ‘hang out with your cat,’ and jaemin suddenly changing from being an insufferable prick to actually being half nice.” jaemin lets out a laugh at the last comment. “i have more if you want me to continu-“

“thats okay, no thank you,” you speak up, “first of all, jaemin is still an insufferable prick.”

“thanks.” jaemin butts in.

“no problem.” you turn your head to him quickly before you continue, causing the others to laugh. “and secondly, i do actually go to hang out with my cat. i love her.” you say, offended.

“whatever.” chenle replies, a judging expression on his face.

they both took the news a lot better than you thought, so you decide to let them tell jisung, who is undoubtedly the most surprised at the revelation. but jaemin’s silence throughout the whole conversation annoys you. you don’t understand why he was being so quiet about it. but when you hear mark and jaemin whispering amongst themselves while you were meant to be in the shower, your confusion peaked.

“this isn’t like you, man.” it sounded like mark’s voice.

“i know.” jaemin replied.

that’s all you heard.

for the rest of the night, you all wrap yourselves in blankets on the sofa to watch some movie that jisung wanted to watch, the fireplace emitting a radial heat and deep hue of ember, softening you into a state of tiredness, drifting off as your head rests on the hard sofa next to you.

it’s only after you wake up that you realize it is certainly not the sofa that you were lying against, but instead, jaemin’s shoulder.

you hear the melodic birdsong as it fills the air outside, the white of snow lighting up the room. or is it chenle’s hideous singing in the shower that you hear? it’s hard to tell.

breaking yourself from jaemins sleeping grasp, you get up to look out the window. you’re meant to go home today, this is supposed to be your final morning of the trip.

but as you peek your vision out the window, around 3 feet of snow covers the floor all around the cabin, the four wheels of marks camper van not even visible.

“uhm, guys..” you call out, grabbing the attention of a freshly showered chenle, a mid breakfast-making mark, a book occupied jisung and a half asleep jaemin. they all stop their various activities at the urgency in your voice, coming over to you and looking out the window for themselves.

it takes each of them about 5 minutes to process what this means; your trip is going to be extended. you are trapped.

and you may be trapped but yours and jaemins secret is very much free.

it finally hits 3pm and you realise that you have all spent the entire day enveloped in boredom, watching as the snow falls and continues to form on the ground. there is no way all this snow will clear in just a few days.

you are lucky that chenle had brought nearly double the amount of food that you needed originally, meaning all you had to do now was to sit and wait it out.

lounging on the sofa, you listen to the smooth rhythm of chenles jazz vinyl playing on loop across the room. you’re bored, and you can’t even go outside. you can tell the others are bored too, that same expression of ‘i just want to go home now.’ plastered on all of their faces.

but their expressions quickly flip when a knock rattles from the front door.

you all look at each other in question before collectively jumping up in sync, running at inhuman speeds to the door. you were about to be saved, removed from the shackles of dullness and provided passage back home.

being the first to get to the door, you grab a hold of the handle, struggling in attempts to only slightly crack it open to keep the snow outside.

but when you open the door and poke your head through the crack, you’re met with a very familiar face.

hayun. also known as, jaemins long-time ‘secret’ infatuation: his crush.

your mind shatters in disbelief as you pull the door fully open to let the other guys see who it is, no longer caring about the snow as it comes piling in.

all because the look on jaemins face is priceless.

the others all look to him to see what he’s going to say, and unsurprisingly, all he has to say is ‘hi.’ you wouldn’t expect more from him, he’s never spoken a word that exceeds a greeting to her before.

following jaemins poor attempt at an introduction, you take over.

“what are you doing here? are you okay?” you ask, genuine concern for the girl lining your voice.

“well, i was here on a ski trip with my friends but, they all abandoned me.”

“what?” you ask.

“and i remembered seeing a few of your guys’ instagram posts saying you were here so… i thought i’d knock.”

“wow.” mark says, “your friends suck.”

“i know. so, any chance i can stay here? i would go home but the weather isn’t exactly drivable.”

you turn to the rest of your group, concluding the pity in their faces before turning back to hayun. “of course! we don’t have a spare room and the sofa gets cold at night but i have a double bed if you don’t mind sharing.”

“thank you so much!” she grins before stepping inside and pulling you in for a hug. you cringe as you come into contact with the cold casing of her coat, the ice cool against your skin as you try not to push her off of you.

in all honesty, you feel bad for her and you know that jaemin is about to get relentlessly bullied by the rest of the group. this was about to make your extended trip a whole lot more interesting.

it hasn’t been a long time since he developed a crush on hayun, spotting her across the other side of his lecture hall. he always gives you some excuse as to why he’s somehow never gotten a chance to speak to her, so you presume that he’s happy that he finally has. either that or completely terrified. either way, you’re happy for him.

yes, you are. you’re happy for him.

❆ ❆ ❆

a few hours pass as you show hayun around the cabin, making space for her things in your room. letting her unpack, you make your way to the front room, finding jaemin and mark on the sofa, seemingly midway through a conversation.

“oh, don’t let me stop you.” you say, urging them to continue their talk after they cease talking at your arrival.

mark turns back to jaemin. “i think you should go for it, dude, what harm could come out of it, huh?” he says.

you’re curious, “you’re gonna ask her out?” you say to jaemin.

he smirks, “maybe, maybe not.”

somehow, something in your heart doesn’t like the idea of jaemin asking out hayun. you’re not sure if it’s the idea of you and him ending this whole ‘friends with benefits’ situation, or the fact that you’re probably going to have to step back from being his best friend, because, let’s face it, there’s no way she would ever let you stay as close as you now are if they got together.

you slap the idea out of your head; he hasn’t even asked her out yet.

mark notices the internal battle you have with yourself. “something wrong with that, yn?”

if jaemin wasn’t here right now, blocking you from mark by sitting in between you, you one hundred percent would have punched him at that.

jaemin looks over to you, a questioning expression on his face.

“uh.. no…” you reply, apprehensive.

“oh come on, i saw the face you just made. you’re jealous that he’s gonna be fucking someone else, aren’t you?” mark continues.

you don’t know what to say, caught off guard by the truth in marks words and the cold presence of jaemins gaze on you.

“im not jel- “ you begin, but jaemin interrupts you.

“yn.” he says. it’s just your name but it holds so much meaning. “am i not allowed to have a girlfriend?”

“‘course you can.” you reply, shrugging.

mark raises his eyebrow at you and you seriously consider getting up and kicking him.

jaemin continues, “good. it's decided then. i'm gonna ask her out.”

mark pats him on the back, laughing, “good luck, dude.”

you smile in acknowledgement as jaemin thanks mark before chenle comes in, completely changing the subject when he starts complaining about hayun’s infiltration of his ‘well organised fridge.’

you zone out their conversation to reassure yourself that you truly don't care that jaemin was going to try to get close to hayun, but you can't help but feel like you're about to be replaced. you always knew it was going to happen, that one day jaemin would want to settle down with a girl. but you're just so used to his playboy personality that you just never expected it to be so soon.

amongst the endless drill of chatter, you feel a sudden glance in your direction, and as you look up, jaemins eyes suddenly divert away from you, as if he got caught looking. you want to ask him what he wants, but the silence in his demeanour tells you that you shouldn't. it's bittersweet; the end of his situation with you, marks the start of one with hayun. its a trade in which you don't want to be part of, but you fear you have no choice – only time can decide.

the rest of the day went by quickly. maybe it was because of your new addition to the vacation or simply because chenle found a cupboard full of dusty boardgames that you decided to occupy yourselves with. naturally, it was you and mark that beat everyone else at your very long, grueling game of monopoly, but that quickly flipped to jisung when you took your turns at scrabble.

the entire time, you and mark teased jaemin relentlessly, catching glimpses as he (unwilling) took his seat next to hayun, pushed there by chenle and jisung and ending up on her team. you could tell that he was getting annoyed at you both giggling at him, but you didn't care; it only made the entire thing so much more fun.

by the end of the night, it was time to sleep, so you and hayun took your rightful sides of the bed. it isn't the best sleeping situation, but you’d much rather sleep beside her than have to experience mark’s sweaty feet ever again. (that experience was not one that you want to remember.)

before you can switch the light off, though, you hear hayun sit up.

“wait, yn, before we sleep…” she says, and you look at her expectantly, “can i ask you something?”

“sure.” you reply.

she looks down, fiddling with her fingers. “Its jaemin. is he.. single?”

as if you hadn't heard her, you take a pause, processing her question.

“yeah.” you let a laugh slip, “why? you like him?”

at your question, she giggles and her voice makes you cringe a little.

“yes. a lot actually, it's sort of the reason why im here..”

you furrow your brow. “what do you mean?”

she takes a deep breath. “my friends never kicked me out.. i just saw that you guys were also here and, well, i thought it'd be a chance for me to get to know him.”

it's as if your ears are deceiving you, the late night tiredness of the conversation urging you to hallucinate. but it's all real, every last word of it.

“wait, so, you lied?.. to get us to let you stay?”

she nods, and you don't know if you should pity her or hate her guts.

because you know what it's like to be in love; you know what it's like to like someone so much to the point where you allow yourself to do stupid things. you understand.

but that doesnt mean that you like her for it.

“i know you probably think i'm a horrible person.” she says.

“no.. no, not at all.” you reply, and she smiles at your words.

“thanks yn.”

you laugh back, “so, jaemin huh?”

she looks back down at her fingers, “yeah.. embarrassing right?”

you smile, not just to her, but to yourself.

“totally.”

❆ ❆ ❆

all night, you debate with yourself over what hayun had told you. on one hand, you can't agree with what she did: lying like that. but her crush on him means that jaemin would be happy, and as his best friend, you can't take that away from him. therefore, amongst your deep pool of thought, her confession swimming in the depths of your mind, you decide that the best thing for you to do, is to hold off telling him that she lied; not only would it ruin their chances of getting together, but therefore, jaemin would only be upset that he never got the chance.

but just because you can't tell jaemin, doesn't mean you can't tell mark.

“i really don't know what to think about her.” you say, standing in the kitchen over three pans of eggs. mark had asked you to have the task of cooking them, resorting to focus on the rest of the group's breakfast. you know it's because he can't cook eggs to save his life, but he'll never admit that.

“honestly,” he replies, “who cares if she likes jaemin? she’s a sneaky little liar.”

you laugh, “i don't know, mark. maybe she's just really in love with him.”

“i’m not so sure about that. how could anyone ever be in love with someone who wears a hoodie saying ‘orgasm donor’ in public.”

you roll your eyes and mark continues, “well, i guess we all know who he's donating to now..”

you slap him around the arm, causing him to cackle at your rash response.

“anyways,’ he continues, “i wont tell jaemin about it if you don't want me to.”

you nod, “thanks, mark. oh, and you're burning the bacon by the way.”

“oh shit.”

❆ ❆ ❆

deciding that the weather still wasnt good enough to attempt to make the journey home, you all decided to stay another day. although the day was full of indiscriminate party games and full fledged boredom, you somehow managed to make it through to nightfall.

you’re nearly drifting off to sleep when you hear a tap at the door of your’s and hayun’s room. turning over to see hayun fast asleep, you get up to see who’s there, wondering what idiot buffoon decided to wake you up at 4 o’clock in the morning.

by means of absolutely no surprise, it’s a disheveled jaemin, hair sticking up in about seven different directions and a crumpled tshirt that rises ever so slightly above his pyjama pants waistline, exposing skin that you do not have the energy to be fawning over. although, that’s exactly what you’re doing.

assuming that he’s here to finally break the news to hayun in some twisted, sensual late night confession, you turn your back to jaemin to call her name. in noticing what you’re about to do, jaemin reaches an arm around your waist, pulling you close enough to him that the palm of his other hand can cover your mouth.

“will you shut up?” you don't need to see his face to know he's rolling his eyes, “this isn't exactly something i want her to see.”

oh.

he lets go of you, spinning you round to face him by your shoulders. he’s done this before: knocking on your door in the dead of night when he needs you. but you never expected him to do it here. not after your conversation with mark a few days ago, and certainly not whilst his crush was staying in your room. it all seems so bizarre.

but you weren't going to say no.

❆ ❆ ❆

the next morning, you realise that you had completely and utterly fucked up.

the warmth of jaemin next to you remains, his arm slung lazily over the front of your stomach. you expect to open your eyes to jaemins ceiling back at home, but to much avail, you are very much still on vacation.

and you had four pairs of eyes staring down on you both to prove that.

you jump out of jaemin’s hold immediately, causing him to slowly stir before mumbling something incoherent into the sheets. when he finally realises the situation you’re in, he takes the pillow beside his head, pushing it into his face.

“you promised you wouldn't do it here, man.” mark starts. but your focus isn't on him, it's on hayun.

and she's livid.

you turn the attention of your words to her. “im sorry. i should have told you.”

jaemin finally gets up, picking up his discarded shirt off the ground and pulling it over his head before sitting back on the end of the bed.

hayun eyes him for any form of an apologetic sense, but he gives off nothing, and you fear this only makes her angrier.

your fear is proven correct when she suddenly snaps at you, “you knew i liked him and you still went and did this behind my back?”

at her words, the mood in the room suddenly shifts. what was an atmosphere of laughter and mischief at them catching you and jaemin together, is now suddenly a room of tension, a room that you no longer want to be in.

but it's jaemins reaction that formulates the world's most unfortunate predicament.

his head turns to you, a look of disappointment and what seems to be hurt, plastered on his face. “she likes me? and you hid it from me?”

you don't know what else to say, so you just tell him the truth. “yes, but it's not that simpl-”

“i don't care, yn.” he gets up, pushing past chenle to the bathroom before shutting the door behind him.

fuck. you’ve messed up.

but one thing is nagging at you: jaemin seems to care far more about the fact that you hid the truth from him than what the truth actually entailed. you tell yourself he’s probably just embarrassed. either that or just completely and utterly in denial about it. either way, he’s acting strange; he should be happy, not angry.

the entire day, jaemin didn’t utter a single word to you. as for hayun, she had been hidden away in your room, not speaking to a single person and avoiding any opportunity to accidentally bump into you. you did feel bad, you should have told her about it the second that she confessed her feelings for jaemin to you. but you had assumed from jaemin’s previous conversation with you, that you were calling it off, jaemin seeming pretty aware about the fact that she was now here. how were you supposed to predict him rocking up to your room at 4am?

anyhow, you spent the day with mark, discussing the ending of titanic and eating way too much chocolate to be healthy. when night came once more, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea to go back to your room, scared about facing the wrath of the girl who resided in it. instead, after washing up in the bathroom, you make your way to the sofa in the front room.

your actions are halted when you hear voices coming from the other side of jaemin’s door. you know you shouldn't eavesdrop on a private conversation, but you can’t help yourself.

you register the second voice as mark as you get close enough to hear them clearer, just enough until you can hear what they're saying.

your heart hurts in your chest when you do.

“i'm still going to ask her out, even with things the way they are.” you hear jaemin whisper.

it's like a sudden shot to the chest. this is exactly what you feared from the very beginning, this is exactly what you trusted jaemin enough not to do.

he’s choosing her over his best friend; he’s choosing her over you.

trying to remain as quiet as possible, you continue your journey to the sofa, pain causing you to wince with every footstep – he's leaving you behind.

as you lie on the sofa, the chill air of the cabin surrounding you despite the presence of the fireplace, forcing you to wrap the blanket around you tighter, you struggle to bring yourself to sleep. but when you hear footsteps from the kitchen, you peek your head over the back of the sofa to see who’s there.

at your movement, the culprit looks up from their snack-making and their eyes meet yours.

“jaemin?” you whisper, “why are you awake?”

“hungry.” he turns back, working on spreading the peanut butter onto his bagel. “what are you doing sleeping out here? it's way too cold.”

you stand up, making your way to the kitchen to stand behind him, blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you shiver from the frost. “i don’t think hayun likes me right now.” you say.

jaemin turns to face you, biting into his bagel. “i wonder why.” he says sarcastically, mouth half-full. you hate to admit it, but he looks incredibly alluring, he always does in the middle of the night.

you hate the fact that he’s acting this way with you, dismissive and persistent, but he has every right, you hid so much from him, and you hurt him in the process.

you’re at war with yourself, but in all honesty you know that you were in the wrong; for your friendship to work, you need to tell him everything. everything.

“actually,” you start, taking a deep breath, “there’s something you don't know.”

jaemin’s interest in the conversation suddenly spikes, looking for you to continue.

“hayun… she.. wasn’t actually abandoned by her friends.”

“what?”

“the night she told me she liked you, she also told me that she ditched her friends because she saw that we were here. she lied about them kicking her out so that we would feel bad and let her stay, so that then she could finally get her chance to talk to you.” you pause, attempting to read jaemin’s face but failing, getting nothing from his expression. “i should have told you, but i didn't want you to get hurt. instead… i did exactly that. i'm sorry, jaemin, really.”

when you finish speaking, you notice as jaemin’s lips slightly curl into a smile before dropping back to his cold demeanor, and it makes you question whether you really saw it or if it was just your mind playing tricks on you.

“yn..” he trails off, whatever he wants to say interrupted by your sudden panic in not wanting to embarrassing yourself.

you ramble, scared that he won't accept your apology. “but like you said to mark earlier, if you still want to ask her out, that's fin-”

“wait, what?” jaemin says, moving from his position leaning against the counter to stand upright.

“i, um, heard you and mark talking earlier about how you were still going to ask her out despite everything..” you say.

jaemin laughs to himself and you grow confused. “oh, yn.” he says.

“what? what’s so funny?”

“you never did get my hints, did you.”

your heart freezes in your throat, the cold weather no longer chilling you but instead the bitter taste of jaemin’s words as they formulate in your brain.

he continues, noticing your confusion. “it was never her that i had a crush on. it was never her that i was planning to ask out.”

you’re struggling to breath, each intake of oxygen getting caught in your chest.

“yeah, i thought she was kinda pretty when i first saw her across my lecture a few months ago, but that was long before i fell for who i really wanted.” he smiles, inching closer to you. “and after everyone found out that i was sleeping with you, i decided that there was no longer an excuse for me to hide my feelings.” he takes a hold of your hand, looking down at it as he plays with your fingers. “i was starting to get pretty pissed that you wouldn’t pick up any of my hints, you know? you can’t even imagine how embarrassed i was to find out that it was because you were trying to play cupid for me and someone else.”

your mind is vacant, filled with the epiphany of his words as they resonate in your head, playing a tune of melancholic rhythm as it twists into an allegro.

“but… the rule.” you say.

jaemin chuckles, “i think we stopped caring about those rules a while ago, yn. i know i did. ”

you’re no longer cold, jaemins warmth radiating against you like the blissful aura of a flame, attracting you and drawing you closer.

it was then that you realised that you haven't said anything to equate his long speech, but words can do nothing to describe the way that you’re feeling. its as if someone had approached you with a mirror, brutally displaying each of your own hidden thoughts and projecting them back at you. because every single word that jaemin muttered, you found deep within yourself. it all clicks, perfectly and irrevocably, into place. your jealousy, your embarrassment, your stupidity.

your love.

instead of attempting to sum up all of your feelings into words, you do the one thing that will live up to the emotions that reside within you. taking not a single moment to prepare yourself, you lean closer to him, his eyes finding your lips. you nod, its small but the gesture means so much. it's an agreement, a sealing of mutual understanding. it's slow and it's incredibly gentle as his lips greet yours, soft in a way unlike ever before. kisses between you and jaemin were always the result of lust, of stupidity. but now, it's the result of something far greater.

it’s love.

❆ ❆ ❆

when the sun rises above the horizon, you leap from jaemin’s bed, him giggling at your eagerness.

“oh my god, it's finally clear!!” you yell, waking up each of the boys with your burst of excitement. you could finally go home.

the morning consisted of three major revelations. one: you all contacting hayun’s friends, watching as they dragged her into their car to drive her home. two: discovering that chenle had only showered once throughout the entire vacation (you all started placing bids as to who gets to not sit next to him on the journey back) and three: witnessing the boys’ reactions to your’s and jaemins new secret.

“i knew you’d do it, dude.” mark said, attempting to fist bump jaemin in the most cringe-worthy interaction you’ve ever seen in your life. jisung and chenle however, were completely baffled, and it took about thirty minutes of explaining for them to understand that it was you that jaemin had a crush on, and not hayun. you’re still convinced that jisung doesn't understand.

once you had all packed your things, you grabbed your suitcases, standing in the porch as chenle locked the front door for the final time.

“im going to miss this place.” mark says, exaggerating an act of sadness as he clutches his chest.

“im not,” chenle replies, “i’ve never been so bored in my entire fucking life.”

“it’s been fun.” you say, smiling.

jaemin’s voice comes from next to you. “eh, could have been better.”

you turn to him in offence.

he continues, “i'm just saying, i never got to actually snowboard.”

“are you suggesting what i think you’re suggesting…?” mark replies, looking around the group and meeting similar grins and looks of hopefulness.

jaemin shrugs, “i dont know, am i?”

as if on cue, you all drop your suitcases in the snow, laughter and coils of happiness springing between you as you run to the shed behind the cabin for one last time.

no other winter ski trip ever got near to living up to that one.

not even close.

#nct #nct fanfic #nct dream #jaemin nct #jaemin x reader #nct jaemin #jaemin fanfic #na jaemin #jaemin

607 notes · View notes

siddhigirls · 4 months ago

Text

biggest fan

J.B x fem!reader

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it), breeding, praising i.e good girl. lmk if i forgot any.

there you were, in the crowded stadium, watching your favourite football team playing and in the lead of the first half. during the halftime break you went on your phone as your boyfriend talks about how shit the other team is playing, you don’t pay much attention to him because someone else has your attention.

there he was, in all of his glory, your biggest celebrity crush— although you are a celebrity yourself you can’t help but fangirl over him. you were pretty close to the field so you could see him clear, he takes off his shirt to show off his perfect physique and you can’t help but drool. fans scream for his name behind you but it was just completely muffled in your head because all you could think of is how good he could fuck you. bellingham was walking your way to talk to fans, you play it cool but internally you were screaming. he comes up to talk to all the fans and sign autographs, stuff like that until he met with your eyes. “wait- aren’t you y/n y/l/n?” he asks, ‘holy shit he knows me’ you said in your head, you were classy though, you shook his hand “yes i am, nice to meet you.” giving him a friendly smile, he smiled back with his perfect teeth, matching your body language.

body leaned towards you, hand resting on the gate, his grip firm, intertwined with yours. you let go as your boyfriend also introduces himself.

you were fairly humble regardless of your countless movie roles, you were the talk of celebrity news. you have no social media presence, raising intriguing thoughts with a lot of your fans, especially bellingham. he was no saint when it comes to you, he constantly thinks about ways to get you, he loved that you were deemed the media’s secret desire. your thoughts were crowded by how you could get bellingham alone so you could show how much of a big fan you were.

months after the game many things have changed, there were rumours that jude had a new girlfriend, you and your ex broke up, yet you were still talked about by many.

you were in london, as it was your favourite place in the entire world, you were at a pub, having a glass of wine to yourself until you got a text from your friend that lived in london. he was having a big party and he was inviting you, mentioning that many celebrities would come. usually you’d decline and just stay at home and listen to the rain hit the window of your little apartment in the middle of piccadilly circus; but you wanted a change of scenery. forcing yourself to pay your tab and go home and get ready for whatever the night has in for you.

you got out the cab to see your friends place in the middle of nowhere, huge house towering over you and music loud enough to hear a kilometre away, you walked in, chin up high. you were never a nervous person, you were always very secure in yourself and knew you were a prize. you let yourself in to see multiple A-list celebrities in dresses from brands that aren’t even known to you, all talking to each other. you locked eyes with your friend and he gave you a warm welcome, kissing your hand and telling you how gorgeous you look tonight. “y/n darling, i swear you get more beautiful and beautiful as the time passes by, the bar is right there, help yourself to absolutely anything, if you want time alone you know where the guest bedroom is”

you nodded in response as you look at the people mingling. your friend was a football journalist so you expected to see a lot of football players in the room. you made your way to the bar and asked for an old fashioned, you decided to go outside your comfort zone so you spoke to the person that was right next to you. you recognized that clean haircut anywhere.

“hi bellingham” he turned around to lock with your eyes, butterflies in your tummy once again. “you again, you know pablo?” you nodded in response, “fancy seeing your face again, where’s your boyfriend?” he asked. you raised your eyebrows and said “oh we broke up a few days after the game.” you turned your body fully to him as he mirrors your action.

“you don’t understand how long i’ve been thinking about this” jude breathlessly says in between kisses as he brings you in the guest bedroom of your friends house, the moonlight shining through the blowing curtains, cold air hitting your skin, hardening your nipples making them peak through your skin tight dress. your beautiful perfume intoxicating jude’s nostrils, often going down to your neck and kissing it. “fuck jude me neither.”

slamming you against the wall as he pushes your dress up, you spread your legs apart for him like you were reading his mind, he kneeled down, looking at your clothed pussy with your wetness seeping through. he couldn’t wait any longer, ripping off your lace panties and starts teasing his dick against your right wet pussy. he entered you feeling your pussy swallowing his dick immediately, like your pussy was made for his dick. you looked down to watch him quickly thrust into you, turning you on even more at the sight. you couldn’t help but not keep quiet, his hand making its way to your mouth and holding it tight. “i know baby it feels good but i need you to keep quiet, no need for interruption. need to take my time with you- fucking christ you feel amazing” he purrs in your ear.

it was so full of passion— like you were meant to have sex with him. your pussy was getting stretched out by his thick cock consistently thrusting into you, you clenched on to him not being able to old your cum in any longer. “fuck baby just like that. i wanna cum with you just a little longer baby please” he pleaded. he sounded so good saying please in his birmingham accent. his thrusts became sloppy and slow. “cum baby, you can do it. you’re such a good girl— fuck.” he reassures you after you cum on his dick making a ring, his tip kissing your cervix as you felt his warm seed filling you up”

he pulled out of you, sharing one last kiss with you before putting his suit back on and wiping off the sweat off his forehead. he helped you put your dress back on and fixed your hair a little. “can’t believe my celebrity crush is about to walk around in public with my cum leaking outside of her.”

#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham hot #soccer #football #football player x reader #football x reader #laliga #real madrid #real madrid player x reader #jude bellingham imagine

407 notes · View notes

gay-dorito-dust · 9 months ago

Note

I loved Ford nervously after Reader kissed him. So I thought, Reader dated Ford since college, and he was already pretty addicted to her kisses, the portal thing happens and 30 years later Ford come back, what would kisses be like from a Ford desperate for contact after 30 years?

P.S. I love your writing ♡ and sorry if it is not very clear, English is not my first language

Kisses with Ford back in your college days were soft, sweet, gentle and a little hesitant and or nervous to start off with as he’d often overthink whether his kisses were any good.

‘They were,’ you’d reassure him as you held his face, ‘they taste like heaven…and the jellybeans you’ve had prior.’ You chuckled at his flustered expression. He could’ve sworn he had eaten a healthy amount of jellybeans beforehand but he guesses that he let himself overindulge in his sweet tooth a little bit.

You loved kissing Ford as the look on his face was the most rewarding thing to see in your entire life. You didn’t care for achievements or accolades, just seeing Ford’s flustered cheeks, panting, fogged up glasses, wide blown eyes and a expression that told you that he wanted more before he confidently cups your face and goes in for another series of kisses.

That and the look of admiration, desire and more when you sat yourself in his lap, feeling his heart race against his chest, but wilfully ignored it for his sake as you ranted about how pretty your smart Fordsy was while peppering kisses across his face and neck and hands. Only to soon decide that enough was enough and that you should kiss him senseless as he whimpers against your lips, his cautious hands now gripped your waist in order to keep you against him.

The glasses stay on when you kiss! You didn’t care if they got fogged up or slanted, that was the best part! You just wanted to give your smart as fuck but overworked man a bit of loving as reward.

Jellybeans maybe his favourite food but your kisses had become an unhealthy addiction for poor Ford as each second that passes where he wasn’t with you, his mind was racing with the thought of your lips on his in the comfort of his and Fiddleford’s dormitory. You made the man unable to focus on the best of times but he always makes up for it tenfold in the end as that was Ford at his core.

So after waiting thirty long years after seeing him be pulled into the portal and hearing your heart break into two, after thirty long, gruelling years of being remained that Ford might never come back to you. lost to the wide expanse of whatever -or who- lied beyond that portal and sleeping in the room you once shared together, now feeling colder and lonelier then ever, finding yourself lost and haunted by the memories that were encased into the walls of the very shack itself.

Thirty years and the wait was finally, finally over the moment you saw Ford come back through the portal, dressed in an all black attire and an aged face that only made you believe he has only gotten more handsome with age; Very handsome you might add but you were bias towards Ford in every sense of the word.

‘Ford?’ You whispered, almost as though you were scared that any louder and you would’ve woken yourself up from the realest dream you’ve had in a long, long time.

Ford, who had equally been your presence for the past thirty years, looks over at you with wide eyes as though you were an aspect of this reunion he didn’t take into account for. ‘Darling?’ He asked as he finds that his body had taken over him, his feet were leading him towards you in a slow and hesitate pace, almost as though he was just as uncertain whether all of this was real. That you were real and looking as beautiful/handsome as the day he first met you back in college.

‘It’s me sweetie.’ You said eagerly as you found yourself walking towards him, almost as though it was coded into your dna to be drawn to him -your other half- no matter how much time has passed between the two of you. You’d always find yourselves going back to each other one way or another, though neither of you were exactly complaining about that as you were soon enough within reaching distance of each other.

No other words were exchanged as Ford was quick to grasp you by the waist, pull you in and kissing you senseless this time as you’re forced to grip onto his coat for dear life. His kisses were desperate, sloppy, deprived and almost carnal with how it seemed to show just how much the time apart had affected Ford.

Though soon as the kiss began Ford slowed his pace to a more tender, loving and gentle manner as he weaved his lips between your own, making extra sure to allow for his lips to linger there for a second longer just to pull away to see your expression with newfound confidence.

You were panting, flustered and just as wide eyed as he was when you first kissed him in college and Ford had to say the expression looked far better on you then it probably ever did him, but knew you would digress…had you managed to catch your breath that is.

‘Welcome home.’ You said breathlessly as you tried not to show just how affected you were by the kiss but with the way you were struggling to stay standing up right on weak legs, that and how your grip on Ford’s coat remained, was enough evidence for him to know that he had accomplished what he had dreamt of for thirty years. And yet he still found himself wanting to kiss you even more with the way you kept glancing at his lips, sharing his sentiment to keep going at it but having to restrain yourself in the presence of others, who were looking at you both were gobsmacked expressions.

‘It’s good to be home with you my beloved.’ Ford then whispers, equally as out of breath but not as much as he rests his forehead against yours. ‘Your kiss is still as sweet and as addictive as I dreamt, and believe me I have dreamt about it enough in these past thirty years away from you to last a lifetime.’ He then adds, pecking your tender lips as you whined, trying to follow after him as though in a trances.

‘Oh Ford I’ve missed you so much.’ You said softly as your hands reached to cup his face, tracing the new lines that graced it while peppering his face in kisses like you use to back when you were younger. In this moment it was almost felt as though you were young again and with the way Ford kept hold of you by the waist, it certainly brought back some rather fond memories of your youth, but most importantly it felt as though you had finally gotten your other half back and everything was right again.

Your vision was once again filled with colour the moment Ford came into view, as did his when you came into view, there was a weight that had finally gotten off of your shoulders and now you could rest in the arms of your beloved Stanford Pines as intended from the start.

Kissing Ford thirty years after the portal incident is a different kind entirely. He wants to make up for lost time and so you’re more then likely cooped up in your shared room, in his lab or anywhere the kids aren’t likely to walk in on you both, and allow yourselves to reacquaint with one another through strong and passionate, drawn out kisses that always leave your forgotten your human need to breath.

You were familiarising with each other favoured forms of kissing as though you were two teenagers who couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. There were kisses where Ford was dominating your mouth, giving you cheeky nips on your lip now and then just so he could have more access to your mouth and deepening the kiss.

Then there were kisses where they were long and slow, almost as if trying to savour the taste of each other’s lips as though it was going to be your last ever. The types of kisses where you just wish he’d pick the pace but loving it even more when he weaves his lips between yours so slowly that you could feel the texture of his lips and commit it to memory.

Ford has gone far too long without your touch that he dedicated all his time to familiarise himself with you again however he could. But you don’t mind letting him do so as you’ve went the same amount of time without him also.

Stan tells you both to get a room frequently because of how touchy you both were being for people pushing 70. (Is he jealous? Maybe. Is he happy for his bother? Fuck yeah!)

#gravity falls x reader #gravity falls imagine #gravity falls imagines #gravity falls #ford pines x you #ford pines imagines #ford pines imagine #ford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #stanford pines imagines #stanford pines imagine #stanford pines x reader

944 notes · View notes

meet-me-backstage · 2 months ago

Text

𓃗

𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ꥟ Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ꥟ It had been years since you ran away from Joel Miller, a hunter, frightened for your life and of who he had become. Before the infected roamed he was the grumpy single father of a chirpy little girl who lived across the street from you and kept himself to himself… until he didn’t, not with you at least when you began watching over Sarah while he couldn’t. He became someone who you could talk to, a friend dare you say, a silly little crush and your lifeline at the beginning of the apocalypse.

Now you are residing in Jackson, a slice of heaven in a cruel world, the perfect distraction from your past and the hell you went through to get away from it. However, you realize that the past really does always come back to haunt you when all too familiar faces arrive at Jackson and you have no other choice but to face Joel again, who makes it his mission to fix your broken friendship.

Unable to fight your heart, feelings resurface and lines blur when it becomes clear that you are just as much Joel’s lifeline as he is yours.

𝑨 𝒔𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒃𝒖𝒓𝒏 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒂 𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈!

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ꥟ Horror themes, not strictly following the first game/season + not at all following the second season/game so kinda au, reader can sing and play guitar, weapons, bad language, death, grief, angst, mentions of pregnancy and stillbirth, blood, mention of vomit, violence, nightmares, PTSD, a lil smidge of dark!Joel, Jackson!Joel, soft & protective with a bit of a dad bod!Joel, unrequited love until it isn’t, jealousy, mutual pining, age gap (reader is 36 and Joel is 56) and smUUUUT (‼️) so you must be 18+ to read❗️

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ꥟ 11K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 ꥟ a Platonic (with a capital ‘P’‼️) reader x Joel pre-apocalypse flashback / reader having a lil unrequited crush on Joel, mention of unrequited love, bad language, mention of parental neglect, grief, angst, weapons, violence, blood, PTSD symptoms, mention of death, mention of pregnancy and some mutual pining.

𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐈 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐚 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭! <𝟑

⇜ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞

THEN

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐌𝐍, 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟑

"It doesn't matter where you go or what you do - I wanna spend each moment of the day with you - well, look what has happe—"

You and Sarah are singing in unison, your voices harmonizing with each other while you strum away at your guitars... until Joel pushes Sarah's bedroom door open, making his presence known to the two of you.

Sarah crosses her arms over the body of her guitar and glares up at her dad, feigning adorable anger - you don't miss the twinkle in her eyes though, it was always there when he arrived back home from work as if she hadn't seen him for years, "dad, don't you ever knock?"

"Don't mind me, honey—" Joel peeks his head further past her door, which is covered in stickers that sum Sarah up in a nutshell; rainbows, roller skates, cartoon puppies, guitars, music notes, multi-color stars and flowers. "I was just seein' what all the noise was," a playful grin tugs on his lips as he lets himself into Sarah's room, closing the door behind him and crossing his arms - looking awfully proud of himself for successfully poking fun at the fourteen year old.

"Oh ha ha - very funny—" Sarah retorts with a deadpan expression, "you're just jealous I've got someone else to do duets with."

"You got me there," Joel admits, bringing his hand up to lightly slap his broad chest while admiring Sarah, who is now the one looking awfully proud of herself for successfully poking fun at the thirty-five year old.

Joel's eyes divert to you - you'd been silent, fondly observing the father and daughter joking around while cuddling what was your mom's guitar to your chest, resting your chin on the side of it’s body. You could feel the warmth of her that always gave you comfort, a similar warmth that you feel with Sarah and Joel. He shoots you a knowing look and there's a thankful glint in it too that takes you aback more than his sudden arrival back home.

You'd been fulfilling the unspoken promise between you a few weeks ago by bringing over your guitar, taking his spot as Sarah's duet partner while he tried to fix the mess of his business that his little brother made... you hadn't seen much of him since that night, mostly at the occasional dinners like before. He didn’t have the luxury of having the time to watch a movie with you and Sarah anymore, he just wanted to keep his head down and finish that paperwork Tommy didn’t do - it was an emergency and you had been more than happy to watch over Sarah for him.

She is your best friend after all.

"Hey, trouble."

"Hi, Joel," you greet him by his name without a stutter, smiling... You hadn't been in the best of moods since your dad left and you hadn’t exactly been discreet about it - there was no point in hiding it because of course Joel had noticed the empty space of your driveway, usually filled by your dad’s car, the same day that he left for his business trip.

Joel confronted you about it a few nights after, prompted by your quietness at the dinner table… even Sarah wasn’t able to get a single giggle out of you.

You just sat there fiddling with your food, aimlessly scraping your fork against your plate, miles away until Joel’s voice jolted you back into the room…

‘What’s goin’ on with you?’

‘Me?’ His eyes pierced into your soul - there was no mistake he was talking to you. ‘Nothing.’

‘Ain’t nothin’ - you been mopin’ for days.’

You shrugged - shrugged. There was nothing in this world that frustrated Joel more than a goddamn shrug.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘I see your dad ain’t been home - ‘s that what this is about?’ He dropped his knife on his plate to gesture at your deflated self.

Your face said it all, you didn’t need to say a word.

Joel muttered something like ‘what an asshole’ under his breath - you could barely hear it.

‘He’s away - working. ‘S not his fault.’

Joel did roll his eyes at that. ‘Like hell it ain’t.’

‘Dad—’ Sarah interjected. The sight of his daughter alone calmed his agitated state, then she leaned towards him, excitably whispering in his ear.

‘You free on Saturday?’ Joel asked you after Sarah pulled back and resumed tucking into her dinner.

‘Mhm.’

‘Then it’s settled—,’ you tilted your head in the manner of a curious puppy, ‘I’m takin’ you ‘n Sarah to the theatre - we’ll see that movie you both’ve been goin’ on about, the one with the werewolves—’

‘Dawn of the Wolf two?!’ You gasped.

‘Dawn of the Wolf two.’ Joel, satisfied with himself for reclaiming the ‘best dad ever’ status from Sarah and for cheering you up, watched you with a crooked smile as you happily ate your food.

He watches you now with that same crooked smile that sends your stomach spiralling. "You okay?" He subtly nods, a caring movement that you respond to with wide-eyes... maybe his exhaustion in consequence of ‘Miller Bros. Services’ being on its last legs had been the reason for his short temper with you. He had showed you that he didn't hate you like you originally thought he did, but you’re still accustoming to this compassionate side to him he only reserved for Sarah and Tommy.

Whatever had changed between the two of you.

It’s a good change.

Dare you say it could be a budding friendship - the beginning of what you have with Sarah; someone who you could confide in. Joel could be that someone too… someone who is kinda an asshole but you could confide in him from time to time.

"I’m okay," you hum... you are. It's not like you noticed any differences with your dad being gone because he never made time for you. Besides, you'd been spending most of your days with Sarah so it's not like you'd been forced to face the desolate space that was your home all that much... in fact, you feel less lonely than you ever did before you met Sarah and Joel, you’re practically living in a loving home vicariously through them. "Are you - okay?"

"Just fine.” It's exactly the vague answer you'd expected considering he wanted to keep Sarah out of the trouble he's got himself into, and judging by his defeated tone he hasn't miraculously been able to undo Tommy's mistakes yet. "Tired—" he adds like the worst case scenario hadn’t been the source of his nightmares lately. "Worked my ass—" he clears his throat, sheepishly glancing at Sarah - she’s holding in a snicker by biting her lips together, "butt off as always."

Your smile grows as you tilt your head.

"What are you doin' back so early anyway?" Sarah questions, scrunching her petite nose.

“The guy me 'n' Tommy are workin' for wasn't feelin' too good so we got dismissed for the day." Joel’s eyes drift back to his daughter suspiciously with a raise of an eyebrow, "why'd you ask?"

“No reason—" She looks down at the guitar Joel had gotten her on her ninth birthday, an acoustic one that she'd also decorated with stickers... Sarah told you all about that day, her 'most kickass birthday' as she called it, and how she hadn't let the instrument out of her sight since, "we just - no offence, daddy - but we got practicin' to do aaand we were gonna wrap your gifts for tomorrow—"

"Thought we agreed on one gift this year, sweetheart—"

"I don't remember agreein’ to that—"

"I do remember tellin' you—"

"Well I wasn't listenin' - sorry," Sarah's apology comes out as an unconvincing mumble, then her eyes light up in the fraction of a second at the same time she points in your direction, “she got you a gift too."

Your face boils when you become the subject of his stare again but you refuse to make him the subject of yours, choosing to profusely blink at Sarah instead. If you did have the words you’d say something like ‘thanks for throwing me under the bus’, but Sarah toothily grins your way and all is forgotten.

"You did?" Joel quirks an eyebrow up at you now, tilting his head to the side.

"Maybe," you mumble, embarrassed that you even thought of giving him a gift in the first place, just before Sarah states confidently; "She did."

You did... and for some reason you feel the need to explain yourself. You had wanted to show your gratitude for all the dinners, the movies and the company you wouldn't have had if he hadn't given into his grumpiness towards you over the summer, to show you are willing to let bygones be bygones and the harsh words he had flung your way didn't matter as long as you got to be in a place that feels more like home than your actual one.

He hums, "that's real kind o’ you, darlin’."

Your jaw drops. ‘Darlin’’… you could get used to that.

"It is—" Sarah agrees enthusiastically with her dad. If it were possible, a flashing lightbulb would be floating above her head right now as she appears to come up with an idea. Once it’s executed, she directs her attention onto you, “hey, instead of leavin’ the gift here tonight why don’t you bring it over tomorrow—” you shake your head quickly, but Sarah refuses it as an answer, “pleeeeease - you’ve gotta celebrate with us.”

You shake your head again… it’s not that you don’t want to - you just feel like you’ve encroached on enough of their father daughter time. Surely he’d appreciate having quality time with his daughter more after the stressful month he's had… you also can’t help but recall words he spat your way before you ran home crying months ago that further prove your point:

'Between you 'nd me, I'd really like to have this one day with my daughter - you think you could allow me th—'

You can.

You'll leave your gift for him here and go home.

You’ll wake up tomorrow.

You’ll leave Sarah and Joel alone.

You’ll break Sarah’s heart.

Sarah does what she always does when she has no clue what to do next, she turns to her dad for answers. She stares up at him with big eyes, desperately pleading for him to help her change your mind.

"What'd you want me to do?" Joel wonders how he'd gotten to a point in his life where his purpose is to do a teenager’s bidding.

Sarah's shoulders drop into a slouch, "duh, you ask." She side-eyes you, the exact same look that Joel would give you after talking about you as if you weren't right there the whole time.

She is truly the mirror image of her father.

“She already said she don’t wanna come.”

“No she didn’t - she shook her head.”

“Same damn thing.”

“No it isn’t.”

“She’s your friend—”

“It’s your birthday… and she’s your friend too.”

They’re as stubborn as each other.

Joel and Sarah stare at one another, contesting with each other, further confirming their alikeness. If he didn't have such a soft spot in his heart for the girl or he didn't know the headstrongness of her that she inherited from him he could’ve kept his eyes open until they burned red, itching for him to just blink… but he doesn’t, he caves because he knows she’s right.

You should celebrate with them tomorrow.

You are his friend.

He obliges Sarah’s command with a scratch at the back of his neck, “it ain’t gonna be much—” he sternly glances at Sarah, speaking as if he'd forgotten that you already knew what plans she had up her sleeve. "But you can come over - if you want," he confirms... “I’d like you to come.”

Your heart thuds, “you - would?” He nods but you need to hear another confirmation in case you hadn’t heard him right the first time, “I wouldn’t be - intruding?”

"You wouldn't be intrudin'."

“Really?”

He nods again - not hesitantly or resentfully, but assertively. "I’d also feel better knowin' you ain't alone."

You find the courage to return his eye contact and nervously purse your lips before popping them open, "okay, I’ll - I’ll think about it."

Sarah bounces on her bed, suddenly so full of energy that her guitar ricochets off of her lap and you almost fly off of her stripey duvet. She catches the instrument back into her small arms and her beaming gaze drifts up to Joel, "Thank you, daddy!”

You can't not accept the invitation now… not with those cute dimples she’d gotten from her dad on display.

"Hm—" Joel brings a hand to his chin, his fingers holding his jaw and ending his intense scrutiny of you with those pretty brown eyes, "alright, I'll get outta your hair... but first you two are gonna sing me a song."

You and Sarah glance at each other, your face flushing instantly; a common occurrence for you whenever Joel Miller is in the same room as you. Sarah’s eyes are glimmering, so much that they light up the room alongside the pink lamp on her side table that nudges her white-framed double bed.

An amused Joel wanders over to the large pale purple bean bag sat at the end of Sarah's bed. It’s sinking into the shaggy brown carpet underneath it and he brushes his hands down his work clothes before letting himself fall onto it with a quiet groan. He immediately relaxes, his body consumed by the softness of the seat under him and he spreads his arms out, his legs too - you're convinced it's the first time he's had the chance to sit down today, it certainly looks it judging by the way his eyelids flutter so elegantly.

You can't miss the small movement because you're eye level with him now. Your grip on the body of your guitar subconsciously gets tighter when you feel those butterflies… they practically live inside you, your stomach may as well charge them rent.

Joel notices your fingernails accidentally catching the D and B strings, creating a muted but melodic sound that doesn't sound quite right. Then he closely examines the decorative details of the guitar you're hugging.

Your mom's guitar is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen so you don't blame him for admiring it.

A grand auditorium acoustic guitar of cedar, spruce and rosewood... A pattern of intricately thin lines run along its body and a floral motif of dahlias and their leaves are carved on top of them. Simpler floral decoration is copied along the fretboard, soundhole, headstock and side... It’s nothing short of a masterpiece - your mom's guitar is a work of art, and it feels like an honor for it to have been passed on to you, for you to be the one holding something as wonderful and close to you as she had once been.

"Now that's the prettiest gee-tar I ever saw," Joel murmurs. His voice raspy and tired. His entranced stare is still on the guitar as if the smooth wooden structure had hypnotized him.

You subconsciously smile dreamily… turns out your guitar has the same effect on him as he has on you. He looks at you, knowing he'd complimented something that you hold so dear… but you don't think he knows exactly how much his words mean to you and how they seem to aim directly for your heart.

Joel taps at the bean bag with the palm-side of his hand. "C'mon now, gimme a song - I need some serenadin'," he leans back more as his calm voice serenades you, soothing your rapid heartbeat which had started pounding from the moment he'd asked you and Sarah to sing him a song - invited you over for his birthday… no, since he poked his head through Sarah’s door.

Sarah doesn't show any sign of nerves, having sung and played for him plenty of times.

You never have.

You never intended to either.

Sarah pinches your shoulder, grabbing your attention, "you ready?"

"Huh?" You blink, dragging your eyes away from Joel to look at the girl sat cross-legged next to you, who has positioned herself and her guitar - eager and ready to play, "oh - yeah - wait - what're we playing?" You whisper, flustered.

"Gee - I don't know - maybe the song you taught me that we've been practicing all day every day for aaaages," Sarah answers sarcastically with high-pitched giggles between words.

How could you forget?

Especially as it was a song your mom would sing you to sleep every night - you could never forget it. Whenever you heard Nancy Sinatra's 'I Only Want To Be With You' on the car radio you found yourself singing along like you always did with your first duet partner, your mom, when she’d drive you to school... Now you're singing the same slow, stripped back version of it with Sarah that your mom taught you and it's such a good feeling - the perfect fitting bandaid to heal your grief.

You hold the man sat across from you accountable for your brain turning to mush and giggle with Sarah, nodding in agreement as you utter a quiet 'right'.

"From top?" Sarah asks.

You nod meekly, "from top."

Your fingers trace over the smooth curves of your guitar, and briefly recall how your mom would tap away at the side of it before she sang to you.

It has become a habit of your own too.

Just as the two of you had practiced, you count Sarah in alongside a few rhythmic taps with the tips of your fingers to guide her into strumming G, C and D chords while you pick the melody in time with her playing. You focus on Sarah's concentrated expression, how her hair falls over her face as she studies her fingers, how her fingers barely wrap around the neck of her guitar and still manage to create a sound as smooth as velvet.

She's a natural virtuoso like her dad too… and although you haven't yet heard him play the guitar or sing, picturing him serenading you has been the source of all your daydreams recently.

You do your best to push that idyllic image of Joel to the back of your mind before you fuck a note up and miss your cue to start singing. You already feel your fingers trembling due to the combination of the buzz of the aluminium strings pressing against them, Sarah's obedient nods in your direction as she prepares for you to join her in playing the chord sequence perfectly in sync and lastly, being the centre of Joel's intent and undivided attention… so you certainly don't need another distraction.

You send a warm smile Sarah's way which she returns. Then you shut your eyes, steering your focus onto the short preparation of your singing voice.

You take a quick breath.

You quietly hum in tune with Sarah's chords.

You’re as ready as you’ll ever be.

"I don't know what it is that makes me love you so - I only know I never want to let you go—"

NOW

𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You wish you remembered more songs like the back of your hand instead of humming vague tunes you couldn’t quite remember.

If you had the chance to come face to face with your younger self, you’d scold her for having taken the accessibility of music for granted… Believe it or not, it didn’t come by so easy these days. To get a hold of some in the apocalypse was the equivalent of trading in an arm and a leg - a rarity that you couldn’t afford all that often even at the rate you work. The selection was limited for trades in Jackson anyway but you had found and reacquainted yourself with a few gems over the years in the form of cds.

If you also had the chance to go back to the life that you led before outbreak day, you'd spend an entire day listening to all the cassettes you once owned… The collection you have now doesn’t compare to the one you had back then.

If you could you'd have saved your mom's guitar too, taken it with you everywhere just as you did her framed photograph... Much to your heartbreak amidst the chaos, the beautiful instrument was one of many belongings you left behind on outbreak day.

Often you wonder if it’s still sitting there on it’s stand back at your old house in Austin, waiting for you to come back and pick it up… You long for that to be the case because it meant there was someplace in this fucked up world that had been left untouched - untainted. A time capsule that, if you ever saw it again it'd take you right back to just as you left it twenty years ago... and you could pretend that none of this shit ever happened, that Sarah was alive and Joel was your designated moody friend.

It’s a pretty dream, but in reality the guitar had probably been taken by survivors on a raid rampage or strong fungal vines had grown around it, strangled it’s neck and broken it... and you just have to move on and make do with the life you lead in Jackson.

It isn't all bad.

You're finally living a life you imagined for yourself on your long and disastrous journey from Boston to Colorado in search of Maria's group - a normal life... well, as normal a life could be in a post-apocalyptic world.

Your weekly schedule is the same:

You go to work bright and early every morning.

You cook yourself an edible meal most week nights.

You get a decent night's sleep every night.

You have dinner with Maria and Tommy at their home every Friday.

You sing at the Tipsy Bison every other Saturday night.

You do whatever you damn well please on Sunday evening.

Before you knew it months had gone by.

Four months.

Joel has been gone for four months.

For two weeks you waited for him to come back and try to make things right between you just so you could have the satisfaction of telling him that, despite his efforts, you hadn’t changed your mind about never wanting to see his face again… You'd already spent twenty years pining after him - being haunted by him… what was another measly fourteen days?

When Callus found his way back to Jackson and Maria sent several search parties out one after the other for Joel and Ellie only for all of them to find nothing, you concluded that Joel's return into your life had been a temporary glitch to give you a sense of finality to the long-lasting situation between you... a true ending that could spur you on to exist without a big bad presence named ‘Joel Miller’ clouding over you.

At long last you could forget about him.

Having someone else with you at night helped.

Rick, to be specific.

He could erase Joel’s voice - wipe that ruggedly handsome face from your memory.

Rick hadn't left your side since the first kiss he placed on your lips... not until today.

You woke up this morning expecting him to be laying sound asleep beside you. Your chiselled jawed - boyfriend? Boss? Sleeping buddy? Could someone be all three of them at the same time? - He’d stopped the nightmares about your past with Joel. For you that was enough... it had to be, you'd spent enough time fucking him to convince yourself that everything good you felt with Joel didn't matter until you believed it to be true...

That Rick was the perfect man for you.

That you could learn to love him one day.

You slid your hand along the fresh sheets of your double bed with closed eyes, hoping to make contact with Rick's naked body on your fingertip's journey towards the empty space next to you... he hadn't ever not been with you in the morning. After your fifth date and your major comeback at the Tipsy Bison… ever since the night he’d heard you sing he’d stayed.

Maybe it was the first dip of your toes into the unknown terrain that was being in love with Rick.

You missed him.

Maybe that was your first sign.

Maybe you're closer to loving him than you thought.

It'd been so long that you've forgotten what it’s like to fall in love, you’ve not even considered your capability of it anymore until now. All you’ve ever known was Joel, the all-consuming love you had for him that sucked you dry, convincing you that he’d ruined you for anybody else.

The worst part about it was he didn’t feel the same.

He wanted Tess.

He loved your baby.

And you?

You never knew where you stood with him and that was reason enough for you not to stay…

Not for a giant flashing question mark.

Not for a man you didn’t recognize anymore.

It’s all in the past.

Joel isn’t coming back.

It's a mystery to you, to Rick, Maria, Tommy, Jean and all the patrollers who had gone out searching for clues to piece his and Ellie’s disappearance together... the lack of evidence led to a presumed conclusion:

Joel and Ellie are dead - either that or they don't want to be found... The latter doesn’t make a single bit of sense to you because Joel had been so adamant about coming back to Jackson, and if he and Ellie had been in trouble, surely he'd have taken care of what needed to be taken care of eventually and made it his mission to be here rather than settle elsewhere?

No... the thought of not returning wouldn't have even crossed his mind, and if you’re wrong? And Joel is still living out there? Good riddance to him.

It was what you originally wanted anyway, for him to leave you alone... and yet it nagged at you, that it's somehow easier for you to tell yourself that Joel had died rather than having gone back on his word. It's also difficult to deny how your heart would clutch at the most likely possibility too… you often felt it, causing you to lay your hand flat over the vital organ that always disobeyed you when it came to Joel Miller.

It’s all in the past.

Joel isn’t coming back.

You have Rick now.

You'd stumbled out of bed with a gleeful smile on your face, brushed your teeth, skipped into the shower, sang your heart out in preparation for tomorrow’s open mic, excitedly slipped your work clothes on, hopped out of your house and in the direction of the stable with one intention…

You want to kiss Rick.

The stable doors are wide open, beckoning you inside.

He must be here.

But your heart is doing that clutching thing again, stopping you from being able to proceed into the building. You shake your head as if the organ will listen and obey at the same time Rick sees you stood in between the large doorframe of the stable.

He'd just stepped out of Callus' stall and is in the midst of shutting the gate to it. He rests a hand on his hip, "there you are—"

Ignoring his words and the tone that he uses when he speaks to all his workers, you set out to do what you came here to do… aside from work of course. You stride forward with determination and your eyes set on your boyfriend - no, boss - whatever - Rick.

The stern, bossy expression on his face doesn't fade until you're close enough to him that you can slide your arm through the triangular space that his bent arm had created between his elbow and side. You don't wait for him to react to your effort to pull him into you before you plant a firm kiss to his lips.

You hardly register the absence of those sensations you felt when Joel would— no, really - you don't - you don't even think about him - how could you when Rick smiles against your lips like this?

It’s all in the past.

Joel isn’t coming back.

"You're - late," Rick murmurs between another firm kiss. You do your best to disregard the clutches at your heart, but they only get stronger by the second, making it difficult to concentrate on him.

You pull back and naturally his mouth follows yours to catch it with his until you retort sassily, "you could've woken me up."

"So it's my fault?" He raises his brows as his lips tug upward into a teasing smile.

“Mhm.”

You don't miss the way his eyes flicker to your lips at your hummed answer. "You're lucky I like havin' you around - I woulda fired you for that sorta misconduct," he reciprocates your hug, placing his hands at the small of your back.

“I've done wayyy worse and being late by what - five minutes is where you draw the line?"

Rick's smile grows into a fully fledged grin, exuding charm that knocks you off your feet - if he wasn't holding you you'd stumble into Callus' stall and make a total fool of yourself - traumatizing the horse more in the process. "No, I'm just thinkin' you might have to make it up to me later—"

"Shhh - you can't say stuff like that, not in front of the horses," you whisper with a playfully serious expression - a horrible attempt at flirting you know, but it’s funny in the moment.

You both chuckle in unison - clearly he doesn’t care much about the judging stares of the four-legged creatures surrounding you because he pulls your body flush against his, causing your breath to hitch.

He attempts to kiss you again, only for you to pull back again. "Why didn't you—" Rick tilts his head, looking as curious as you, "wake me?"

"I couldn't—" he avoids your eyes as if he'd silently reminded himself of something, which is unusual as you're typically the one doing that to him - doing everything to evade the truth of your past and what you felt for Joel, not wanting it to sabotage your new, content way of living and whatever it is between you and Rick. "Was the first time I've seen you dreamin'."

"How'd you know it was a good dream 'nd not a bad one?" You ask cluelessly.

"You weren't lashin' out on me for a start—" he forces a laugh and you look down at the way your dirty clothes tangle with his. You hadn't had a nightmare so bad that you retaliated in reality in a long long while - when you did Rick would trap your body with his by holding your back to his front and keep you from drowning in the pool of blood - seeing Joel at the surface— "you were mumblin'."

You timidly lift your head, "you - um - hear what I was mumblin'?"

Rick's grip on you loosens - he's still evading your questioning stare. "Nah - not a word, sounded like a bunch'o gibberish to me," he admits unsurely. Before you can interrogate him further about your sleeping habits he drops his arms to his sides, you do the same, "I'd better er - get back to work. The first lot of patrollers'll be here any minute."

"Oh - okay," you nod passively as he smiles reassuringly, but it doesn’t reach eyes - like the color of them, they are as cold as ice. He turns his back to you and heads to the patrol board, jotting down something or other and familiarizing himself with today's schedule.

He's acting kinda strange - however, it isn't out of Rick's character to stick to his own work rules.

You hear shaky, distressed whiny breaths to your left, coming from inside Callus' stall…

Ever since the stallion’s premature arrival back in Jackson he'd been kept at the stable - no longer a patrol horse.

Callus, as skittish as he was whenever he sensed any nearby infected, he was the most obedient and brave of the horses stabled at Jackson Ranch... so whatever happened to him, Joel and Ellie out there, it must've been horrific because it had changed the horse’s entire persona - and even with the extra care you and Rick had given him since the night he came galloping back, his distraught state seemed to be irreversible.

He must be angry at himself for failing to protect Joel and Ellie like he always did the patrollers… or the trio had run into a horde and he'd bucked Joel and Ellie off, now feeling a tremendous amount of guilt for leaving them behind… for their deaths.

He whines again, louder this time, and you hurriedly respond, taking one step so you're stood in front of his gate, where Rick had been standing, and peek over it.

Callus is laying down on his side on straw that Rick must've just laid out for him.

He appears to be having a dream - a bad one... again.

Maybe he’s reliving what happened.

The numerous possible events with the same ending, with Joel and Ellie laying lifelessly on the ground that played on your mind more than you’d admit.

You don't hesitate to unlatch the gate and carefully approach Callus - you of all people understand the power of a nightmare, how they chase you back into the real world and make you act without precaution... the last thing you want to do is scare him more.

Treading lightly and kneeling beside the back of his long neck, you position yourself so that, in the worst case scenario, he can’t kick or bite you in a moment of sheer panic.

Your hand reaches for his brown mane and you slowly rake your fingertips through the untangled hair in attempt to calmly coax him through his nightmare while keeping a steady eye on his reactions to your touch - one of the many things Rick did to you at night to soothe you, to remind you that he was there to be the solution to all your problems.

Callus blows quiet raspberries and his eyelids move around in his sleep, but his breathing pattern slows. You exhale, relieved as it's the first time you'd successfully guided him out of the terror enforced by his trauma. "What happened out there, boy?" You sigh out, twirling his mane around your index finger with wonder in your eyes.

He has the answer, you can see it in his doe eyes.

If only he could talk.

If only you could read his mind.

꥟ 𓃗 ꥟

You couldn’t leave Callus’ side.

For hours you've been glued at the hip.

Two scarred souls finding solace in one another.

You're not proud of yourself but you didn't intend on falling asleep - surprisingly, aside from the odd poke and itch, Callus' straw bed is much more comfortable than it looks.

You're lucky that Jean hadn't been expected to be on a patrol shift today, instead she took on your usual, every day duties, eager to help in any way that she could. She agreed to look after Pearl and Shimmer for the day, and to assist Rick with Old Beardy's maintenance - it kept him off your back at least, otherwise he'd have found you laying on the extra straw that was supposed to be for Callus’ benefit and told you that 'sleepin' on the job is sorta a misconduct too' as if you didn't already know it.

Like a hammer to the brain interrupting a hangover nap, you hear your name being called.

"Shit," you curse groggily under your breath, half-asleep. "Shit shit shit," you keep mumbling into Callus' mane while also trying not to catch a mouthful of it or disturb the horse's deep slumber.

Your name echoes throughout the stable yet again - it's Maria, you realize, and by the sound of her voice she wants to see you urgently.

"Shit," you mumble one last time before blowing Callus’ hair out of your face and carefully lifting yourself as silently as possible until you're on your knees with your arms holding you up… During moments like this you can’t help but question yourself - what are you doing with your life? "I'm here!"

“Where?!"

"Here!" You answer, shouting at the volume of a whisper.

"You're gonna have to be more specific than that!"

You sigh out, “I’m with Callus!”

Maria, looking as radiant as ever, pops her head over the fence of Callus’ stall, looking down at you quizzically, “what are you doing?”

“I was tendin’ to Callus—” she gives you a skeptical look as you drop your head between your arms, “fine, I might’ve shut my eyes for a bit but look - he’s actually sleepin’ peacefully for once.”

“I’m glad he’s making progress,” she acknowledges with an impressed nod, but it’s short-lived. “What’s a bit?”

Without waking Callus, you stand yourself up with a few small grunts, “I dunno - what time is it?”

“Just after four,” she tells you after rolling up the long sleeves of her shirt that she’d thrown over a stretchy white t-shirt and exposing her watch underneath it.

Shit.

That’s almost your entire work shift.

You fiddle with your fingers, now stood directly in front of Maria with the fence between you, “errr a few hours then I think—” it’s a major underestimation and Maria does not buy it. Your eyes widen, pleadingly staring into her’s, “please don’t tell Rick.”

“I don’t need to tell him anything—” Maria rests an elbow on top of the fence, using her hand to gesture to your entire body which is covered with several bits of straw that had interwoven themselves in your clothes, “you’re a mess.”

“Gee, thanks,” you giggle softly, unfazed by her honest humor because that’s just Maria and she only means well - still, something seems to be bugging her. You start to pick at the straw, plucking them out individually while eyeing her suspiciously.

“Sorry—” she looks over her shoulder, appearing to be staring into the natural bright light that’s beaming into the stable from it’s entrance to her left, “get outta there I - I need to tell you somethin’.”

You’ve never seen her so worried - so stressed…

She’s the leader of this entire community, what could possibly be more stressful than that?

Your mind instantly goes straight to the worst, thinking that something had gone wrong with her pregnancy, so you stop stupidly fumbling around with your clothes in an attempt to tidy up your disheveled appearance to show her that she is your main focus right now… that you’ll be there for her as long as she needs you to be.

Once the barrier of the fence is no longer between you, you notice an element of relief that flashes across her face, which alleviates the worry you feel for her…

Realization spreads across your facial features one by one.

Whatever it is that she needs to tell you, it’s not about her baby.

“Maria—” she only blinks in response, completely lost in her own train of thought, so you gently grasp her biceps and shake them, “Maria - what is it?”

Maria’s stare drifts back onto you with her eyes so wide that if she told you she’d seen a ghost, you’d have no choice but to believe her. She blinks a few times and furrows her brows, at a loss for knowing how to broach the subject of her shock and trying to work out how exactly she is going to break it to you… She decides that there’s no other way than to just come out with it - loud and clear, “he’s back.”

Every organ in your body feels like it drops. “W-what?” You whisper in disbelief.

“Joel’s back.”

You blink. Your lips are open after mouthing another 'what?' that Maria sees because she is observing you so closely, so cautiously.

"Joel - he's back with Ellie."

"I - I heard you - it's just—" the words fly out of your mouth weak, cracked and breathless. You shake your head frantically at the slim chance of him being alive after months of no sign of him coming true… It hadn’t even crossed your mind that he could still be out there, or perhaps you avoided the chance like your life depended on it… truth was, it did - does… You wouldn’t have done half the things you’ve done in the last four months if even an ounce of you thought he was alive - you’d have lived in an unshakeable state of procrastination for Joel’s impending return and his intention to fulfil his promise to you if you did. "Maria - it can't be h—"

"It's him," she states calmly, boldly, matter of factly.

You nod feverishly, but you can't accept it. The cogs in your brain struggle to process the unexpected news, spinning so uncontrollably fast and out of sync that they overheat and fall apart… you feel light-headed.

Your arms slap down to your sides, losing all feeling in your body. Your eyes close, mentally preparing yourself to fall, but before you do or your head collides with a wooden plank Maria grabs a hold of your arms and pulls you to her. Her baby bump which has popped in the last month presses to your stomach - she isn't going to let you faint because of Joel's arrival again, she regrets not having caught you the first time and perhaps having let Joel see you way too soon... Tommy was wrong for making that decision and she blamed herself for not having stepped in, for trusting Tommy's judgement.

Maria repeats your name over and over but the life in your eyes does not come back and your body is frozen, so frail that she makes sure to continue holding you steady. She tries to talk you into consciousness - she's probably answering questions you want answered…

What happened to Joel and Ellie out there?

What spooked Callus?

Why did it take them so long to come back?

Are they okay?

Where are they now?

Is Joel looking for you?

Is he staying?

But you can’t hear her - see her.

Your vision underneath your closed eyelids is red and your ears are blocked by thick fluid you presume to be blood - no no no - you feel it trailing from your tear ducts, your nostrils, the corners of your mouth and dripping from your earlobes - this can’t be happening - it starts to pour heavily down you, feeling it drench your outfit that disgustingly clings to your skin - you have to open your eyes - your hands fly up to your face, frantically rubbing away at something that is just not there… and suddenly you’ve repossessed your hearing, Maria is shouting your name again.

She shakes your arms much harsher than you had done to her minutes before, but you’re too busy digging your fingers into the dry corners of your eyes to notice the pain she is unintentionally inflicting upon you with her fingernails clawing into you so ferociously… so hell bent on dragging you back into the stable with her, back onto planet Earth; a world that had stopped spinning on it’s axis for you… a world that you thought you’d bid farewell to months ago, where your nightmares bled into your days.

Your eyelids flutter open, revealing nothing but a glowing Maria… and there’s not even a droplet of blood on your faded white t-shirt.

"Hey, look at me!" Maria croaks out after an exaggerated sigh and you do - you stare at her, horrified at the trick your mind had played on you but relieved at your safety, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. “Are you okay?!” emphasis on the 'okay' with a squeeze of your arms. She shakes her head at herself, "stupid question, Maria."

"No - no, it's not—" you take a drawn out breath. "I'm - okay," you nod unconvincingly.

You don't know what else to say - you fear that anything you do say will make no sense or come out in jumbled one word sentences that you can't even decipher yourself… Maria’s eyes are searching your face for any indication that you’ll shatter into pieces in her grasp, left entirely unsatisfied with your vague, stuttered response to her witnessing what looked like your soul leaving your body in front of her very eyes.

“I’m okay—” you repeat, going to shiftily look at your boot-clad feet, but your view is blocked by Maria’s baby bump, making you think back on cherished memories of reaching the same stage in your pregnancy where you couldn’t tie your own shoe laces or even sleep comfortably due to the constriction of a larger bump… Joel would tie your laces for you and lay down behind you with a guarding hand on your belly all night. Those small moments were some of your favorites, you know how Maria loves it as much as you grew to given the circumstances… you don’t want to ruin her enjoyment of this time by distracting her with your problems, and so you do what you do best; you hide behind your armor, brushing aside your nightmarish visions with a smile, “I appreciate the warnin’ this time.”

Maria nods slowly, but she lingers with an open mouth - warning you of Joel’s return wasn’t the only reason why she came here. “Joel—” your breath hitches, the reaction causing Maria to stop talking, but you gesture for her to put you out of your misery and say it - whatever it is, “he wants to stay—” ‘course he does. “It’s obviously what Tommy wants too but I told them I’d find you and ask if it’s - okay - y’know, before making a final decision.”

That’s when it reappears.

The blood.

It’s spilling through the cracks in the stable’s structure behind Maria, in no time it’ll flood… you’ll be drowning in it, that thing at floor of the pool will grab your ankles and pull you down again.

You’ve got to find Rick.

You step away from Maria.

In a complete frenzy, your limbs carry themselves with nothing but the pure fuel of adrenaline, with its mission being to throw yourself at Rick so that your vision of red will go.

"Hold on - where're you going—" Maria tuts while following after you, hesitant to let you run away and shut her out like you always did when faced with anything falling under the topic of the Miller brothers, especially with how much progress you'd been making recently. You’d actually gathered the strength to sit with Tommy in his and Maria's house at their dining table and eat dinner with him, have a conversation with him - Tommy did most of the talking but it was something.

Your friend looms behind you, a creeping shadow similar to the monstrous one attached to Joel in your nightmares, gaining on you by the second.

The addition of fresh spring air carries you into the bright sunset like a guiding light to safety.

You're self-conscious, so exposed and unable to protect yourself - the real Joel could be right in front of you and you wouldn't know.

Once your eyes are adjusted after having been accustomed to the dingy light of the stable you make sure that he isn’t anywhere to be seen before resuming your search for Rick with squinted eyes - god, how you wish you were still sleeping in Callus' stall, straw prodding at your ass and all... you wish you hadn't made your presence known just so you could've hidden away in your dreams a little longer and avoided having such a huge spanner thrown into the works of your newfound zest for living your normal routine.

You should've known… your life had been running a little too smoothly recently.

The mixture of the blinding sun and Maria's distorted voice calling after you deter you from achieving your objective, but the blood is gushing from the stable doors like a waterfall, following you outside so you need to get to Rick and fast.

In your peripheral vision you spot him, he's talking to Nathan, the charming jester, famously known for his cheesy pick-up lines and smouldering winks aimed at every woman minding their own business at the Tipsy Bison - you've been on the receiving end of a few...

'I must be huntin' treasure.'

‘What?’

‘Cause I’m diggin’ you.’

He's kinda a dork under the muscle but it doesn't seem to stop him from leaving the bar with company for the night... although, due to spending more time with him in an effort to make friends with Rick's friends, you've found out some interesting stuff, like how Nathan has a whole segment of his mind dedicated to random facts about history that he'd remembered from university - famous pirates, to be specific - so he's actually pretty smart.

A relieved sigh escapes your mouth at the sight of the two men going about their day, probably talking about how Nathan's patrol had gone.

All patrol routes had become clearer than they had been during winter. With only a handful or two of infected to take down, you saw how the patrollers returned with skips in their steps... Nathan looks as though he's returned having not lifted a finger, but he's holding a rifle readily to his chest so he must've done some shooting.

You take one last look over your shoulder as you run, seeing Maria waddling and the red liquid turbulently flowing behind you both, the edge of it touching Maria’s heel. The absurdity of the image of your nightmare’s creation endangering your friend and how alarmingly real it appears to be, how it consumes her feet and pulls her into its strong current, it unlocks a whole new level of guilt and horror within you that you didn’t realize you inhabited.

They’re your nightmares to have, not Maria’s, not the horses, not the entirety of Jackson’s population.

They’re meant for you.

You’re the blood’s target.

It’s meant for you.

A single shot of determination and adrenaline all in one surges through your body, enough to last you for your final steps towards Rick - your savior and guaranteed safety net from all things nightmare related.

When you leap into the back of Rick’s unsuspecting frame, wrapping your arms around his front, you can feel it all sink away, the blood being sucked down by some imaginary drain just in time to save Maria. You tuck your scrunched up face in the space between his shoulder blades, your heaving chest flush against his back and allows you to recover from running as if you’d been in danger, as if Jackson had truly been under attack by an incomprehensible amount of deadly crimson fluid.

It’s silent around you, apart from the birds singing, children’s laughter, conversations being had and the horses contently neighing… noises regular to day to day life in Jackson, its music to your ears, but you have to see it for yourself. You slide your face to the left and along Rick’s back, taking a wary peek at the main road leading to the heart of the town and, sure enough, everything is as it should be.

Rick lifts his left arm, revealing your face to Nathan, who cocks his head with a bemused smile on his face, “well howdy there, songbird.”

You manage to keep your arms clung to him while Rick twists his upper half so that he can see you for himself, already expecting to see your face - there's only one resident songbird of Jackson and that's you... not one that's as treasured as you are anyway.

You’d gone from hermit to socialite.

From forgotten and ignored to recognized and praised…

People waved at you, stopped you on your way to work just to tell you how much they love your voice.

You're kinda like a celebrity here now.

“Hi,” you mumble into Rick’s shirt and momentarily let go of him to awkwardly wave at Nathan.

Your other arm latches onto Rick tighter in retaliation, squeezing him so hard that he groans. He reflects upon the other times you’d done that, a silent plead for him to save you from something he’d never seen. One thing that sprang to his head then was to lay his hand over yours, it seemed to work because your erratic mid-sleep stirring would stop after that… he does it now, you can’t see it but you can feel it. Warm and sturdy. His thumb rubs over yours as he clears his throat, glaring at a puzzled Nathan, telepathically telling him to give the two of you some space.

“Guess I’ll be seein’ you two lovebirds tomorrow night th—”

“Nate,” Rick stops him with raised brows.

Nathan lifts his spare hand up in surrender, “I get it I get it I’ll go—” he tips his cowboy hat at you and Rick before retreating.

Rick watches Nathan’s back as he walks away. It is not until the top dog patroller is at a considerable distance that his observant eyes trail along your arm. It’s about all he can see of you because you’re yet to unhide yourself. He mutters something unintelligible when he struggles to get a good look at your face, “hey—” he squeezes your hand, “what’s goin’ on?”

You stay silent, physically unable to describe your episode for not wanting to sound crazy… you also don’t want him to know why it started, how Joel still has an effect on you that you can’t control.

For a fraction of a second he lets go of your hand to turn himself so that he’s fully facing you, then he takes both your hands in his, “talk to me—”

You shake your head, feeling so foolish for not having the ability to switch your mind of piles upon piles of unresolved trauma off yourself. “Just hold me, please.”

Rick hesitantly indulges you, taking you into his arms properly like he did in your bed every night, aware of how it instantly lulled you into a deep sleep. He’d lay on his side examining your log-like state, making sure you were okay before focusing on getting himself to sleep. Often the sweet scent of your hair was enough to get him there… last night, however, it wasn’t, not after hearing your mid-sleep mumbles as clear as the view of the full moon through your bedroom window…

‘I wannnted - you to… but you - nev-er did.’ Those words had pricked his ears up, but it was what followed that kept him awake; small hitched breaths and a breathy moan of his name, not his, Joel’s… and by the sounds of it he wasn’t scaring you, no, he was doing something you… liked.

Questions had been circling Rick’s mind all day today, causing him to be more irritable than usual with the patrollers arriving to and from their shifts, at the realization that with the large amount of time he’d spent with you, he hardly knew you… The fact agitated him to the extent that he forgot to tick off the patroller’s names correctly on the register too, a mistake he’d never made.

Was it just a stupid dream?

Or were you reliving a real memory with Joel?

And if it was had you fucked him?

Was he the father of your baby?

Did you have feelings for him?

He has to ask… he has to hear it from you.

Your face is nuzzled so cutely into his chest, but he fights the warmness he feels inside because of you to speak, causing his stubble to catch the hair at the top of your head and the steady heartbeat you’d been listening to to beat sporadically.

“Did y—” Rick starts, but the question fades into a sighed ‘Maria’.

“Don’t you - ever - run away from me - like that - ever again,” Maria’s breathless voice bursts yours and Rick’s bubble of protection and uncertainty. You turn your head to face her and nod in understanding. “I mean it—” she adds as she strokes her hand over her baby bump. “Good evenin’, Rick.”

“Evenin’, Maria,” he responds more coldly than he intended, “you - good?”

“Yeah - it's getting tough though - putting one foot in front of the other—” She intentionally eyes you, “catching up to everybody these days is a trial, especially 'cause I'm expected to be everywhere when I - can only be at one place at a time... sorry - ramblings of a pregnant woman." She takes deep breaths and straightens her back, “I just need - an answer.”

“You never asked a question?”

“Not from you.”

“Oh.” She wants an answer from you as badly as he wants answers from you, he realizes.

Maria says your name - she pauses until she’s caught her breath, “can Joel stay?”

If Rick didn’t know about Joel’s return he definitely knows now… he probably knows it’s why you ran too.

Their eyes lock onto you, boring into the depths of your soul for any hint of an answer and yet you can’t feel them… all you can feel is the protection only Rick’s arms give you, making you optimistic about a future in Jackson with Joel in it at a distance as long as you have your safe person to retreat to; Rick.

“Y-yeah—” Rick tenses up at your decision, “he can.”

“You sure?” Rick butts in, hushed and Maria stays silent, allowing you the additional chance to send Joel away for good.

You nod, your mind made up, “it makes no difference to me, him bein’ here.” Rick untenses.

Blood rises at your feet.

꥟ 𓃗 ꥟

“‘Cause you’ve started something, oh, can’t you see? That ever since we met you’ve had a hold on me—”

Your eyes rake across the room as you sing. The fairy light chandelier that magically sets the tone, the bunting hanging neatly along the bar and lastly, your audience; a sweet old couple slow dancing, that one guy whose nine to five is drinking in the corner, Jean and Hannah chaotically singing with you, Arthur trying to talk to Nathan (who is on the hunt for his next ‘X’ marks the spot no doubt), Maria happily swaying with her back to Tommy’s front while his hands caress her belly, Seth actually smiling while serving drinks, people sat at tables watching you in awe and kids excitedly jumping along to each strum of the acoustic guitar you borrow from the Tipsy Bison’s storage whenever you took to the mic… it’s nowhere near as stunning as your old one but you can’t complain, it does the job well enough.

“No matter what you do - I only want to be with you.”

You can’t bring yourself to smile or sing Rick’s way, let alone gaze at him with that twinkle in your eye like you typically did when you performed… you can’t look at him the same way, not after the revelations you’d discovered yesterday.

Rick is not the solution… being held by him does not stop your nightmares, you couldn’t love him and you can’t have him in your bed anymore.

It made every bit of difference to you, Joel living in Jackson.

It made it so obvious, how Joel had ruined you for anybody else.

Like a moth to a flame, your gaze is drawn instead to those eyes that watched you and Sarah sing, the ones you knew in another life… Joel has that same soft look in them that had your fingers trembling as you plucked the strings, but nobody seems to notice and you hadn’t expected him to come here tonight - just as you hadn’t that afternoon he got back home from work early to find you and Sarah duetting.

“No matter what you do - I only want to be with you.”

Amongst the loud cheers and claps, you almost expect to hear Joel’s voice saying ‘you got a real pretty voice, darlin’’ like he did the first time he heard you sing… he doesn’t. Joel is motionless, glued at the back of the Tipsy Bison and gambling his agreement with Maria to stay away from you after hearing how you reacted to his return, how you jumped out of Rick’s embrace and ran home… he’s risking the house he and Ellie had just moved into for hope; a place well clear of infected that’s safe for Ellie to grow up in, a home to settle down and build a somewhat regular life for himself.

You’d taught Joel to hope, you always did out there even when nothing went to plan and supplies were low… a feeling so trivial, dangerous and downright stupid to him after having experienced a loss as big as the death of his daughter, but he did, he felt it. He’d never admit it to you but you could see that he did by the way he kept pushing and pushing forward for Boston, for you and his little brother… it went downhill when three became six, when you, Joel and Tommy met other survivors; Charlie, Harrison and Tess… you couldn’t see it anymore, Joel’s hope, not until you got pregnant and he stepped up to provide you with everything you needed at any cost… by doing shitty thing after shitty thing he wasn’t proud of. What was left of Joel’s hope was flung out the window when you vanished from his life like Tommy and Sarah, and just when the thought of living as a family with you and the baby at the Boston QZ was the only thing that got him to sleep at night and the only reason for him to wake up in the morning… He’d realized it too late and had no one to blame but himself for losing you. He hated himself, so much that the hope inside him soccumbed to his self-loathing. Then when he met Ellie and he saw you again his hope resurrected - it kept him alive through his mission to get Ellie to the Fireflies, that and the endless dumb jokes the teenager subjected him to on their way that he’s kinda warmed to… and now he’s doing it again, hoping you’ll let him try to make things right between you like he told you he would four months ago.

He’s aching with it, especially with how beautiful you look tonight. His heart had been lurching in his chest, threatening to burst out of his ribcage since he stepped into the busy bar and saw you in the flesh. The way you’re grinning at the crowd of faces you’d been focusing on while you sang, Joel longed to be one of them all evening until your eyes do land on his.

He notices the tiredness that dims the glimmer in them beneath the buzzing happiness of your outer shell being in it’s element… it only makes him more determined to try, he swears he’ll do anything to be the reason for the ignition of that light within you, and even if he isn’t and you swore he didn’t have a chance to be he’d understand, he doesn’t deserve it - you, yet he can’t help but yearn to see that glimmer someday anyhow…

That’s the danger of it.

The pain of relentless hoping despite the harsh truth being shoved in your face.

You know all about that.

You’re quick to step away from the microphone, hand the guitar back to Seth, slide your hands down your dress and head into the open space swarming with your audience, ignoring the wave of compliments being thrown at you and hugging Maria, Jean and Hannah without a word.

You’re too busy ogling Joel, mindlessly heading his way.

You have no idea what you’re going to do once you get to him, whether you’ll shove your hands into his chest and push him away or ball your fists into his denim shirt and drag him towards you - maybe neither, maybe both - with each squeeze through the pit of sweaty limbs, smiling faces and a flurry of questions like ‘how did you get such a voice?’, your legs carry you faster… desperate to touch him and be sure he isn’t some figment of your imagination.

When you collide with someone’s front— “hey—” Rick’s front, and he places his hands on your hips before leaning forward to kiss your cheek, you take the opportunity to peek over his shoulder at Joel, whose sad eyes hadn’t left yours for a single second. They flicker down to his boots when Rick’s lips touch your skin, like it hurts to watch it, like he believes that you feel those toe-curling sensations you’ve never felt - not with Rick…

You’re numb to Rick’s touch when Joel leaves the Tipsy Bison with tears in his eyes.

“You want a drink to rest those pipes o’ yours?” The tip of his nose ghosts over your cheekbone.

You’re making the same mistake as you did sixteen years ago.

“No I - I think ‘m gonna head home—” Rick goes to grab his jacket that’s draped over a barstool, “alone.”

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞 ⇝

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞) 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆!!!!! 𝐈𝐭'𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 <𝟑

𝐈’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬, 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐢’𝐦 𝐯𝐯 𝐞𝐱𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 😁 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥.

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 ‘𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞’ 𝐨𝐫 ‘𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫’ 𝐭𝐚𝐠-𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰!

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ↯

𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒

@eaterof-concrete @exzidss @pedrosgrogu @whirlwindrider29 @ccmoonshine @wheatmaze @hayleynott @peelieblue @senoratess @sunnypeachdream @puddles221b @kirsteng42 @piercethevic03 @bardot49 @maybe-a-bi-witch @xwackk @mellymbee @aurelialou @hjzghi-blog @dendulinka6 @hhjhgdaiqoqoan @holmesblogger @areyoutheretoru @dailyobsession @youusunshineyoutemptress @deansgirlsworld @orcasoul @merz-8 @levislegislation @aliastrinity @buckys-endoftheline @nandan11 @keenducklandbear @peedrow @pedrosonlygirl @jadedlavendergemini @mystickittytaco @windsweptarmadillo @darknight3904 @missladym1981 @wencontre @liciafonseca @fefa-la-printcessa @lilac-boo @theoraekenslover @duckybird101 @youaggravatemysoul @avee102

𝐽𝑜𝑒𝑙 𝑀𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑟

𓃗

250 notes · View notes

luna-loveboop · 9 months ago

Text

Wars and Wild as knights in Lu

They have issues.

I have a lot of thoughts on Wild and Wars and their relationship (Order of this post is talking about saluting, Wild and Wars' different perspectives, memory issues, and fire) Rant time.

No saluting!!

So Wild took a formal- almost/awkwardly saluting pose when Wars confronted him in 'Entrance pt.2'

It's similar to the first time Wild addressed Wars as 'captain'. His left hand is up from where a salute should be, and his overall posture is awkward, with his shoulders and right hand raised, but it's clear he's trying to do a salute in the presence of a fellow knight.

In the second example his hand is behind his head, but his posture is very straight and his right arm stiff- he's again attempting a formal saluting position. Which is still awkward

It is less clear but his changes in posture clued me in. He goes from like a deer in the headlights to visibly sweating to straight backed and looking up at Wars- looking at the changes in his body language

Side note but I literally love how Jojo draws the champions tunic so much-

We can't see the action of Wild's body language in a comic, just the positions he went to. But he visibly leaned away from Wars before switching to a straight backed saluting-like posture. He's clearly freaked out, hence Twilight's face: >:(

I think that Wild taking somewhat military poses around Wars is important to their relationship issues because it comes from his struggle with memory and identity

So like. All of them have different perspectives

Wars

I adore Wars. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that he would not speak to any of the others this way.

And the scarf man cmon it's so pretty they are so cute-

Why is Wars talking to Wild like this? He's called him out and reprimanded him multiple times in front of the others. Wild has taken it well but tbh if it was Legend I think he would be on fire.

To some extent I think he is in captain mode. I think that he has trouble seeing Wild as not a knight. Wars gives Wild respect as a knight who sacrificed for his kingdom, but now it seems he's taking it away as a knight who's not doing well enough since he 'disregarded the plan'

At least I think that's the outside (or Wild's) view of it. But Wars internally really cares about Wild and he saw him run up to a giant and lose it. Different ways of showing concern perhaps?

Who wouldn't want to keep Wild from getting more scars?

I just. Don't doubt for a second Wars really cares about Wild- even if the way he's acting still isn't cool. He has no right to treat him like a soldier any more than the rest of the chain, and right now I think Wild is acting as the more mature person.

Wild

I adore Wild. He is baby and I love him. I think it is also important to acknowledge that although he is clearly making efforts after Twilight's injury, Wild has ignored Wars for the majority of Lu, by not speaking to him much, and not thanking or acknowledging Wars when he directly helped him. (Small example being walking with Hyrule not Wars when injured and not directly responding to Wars)

Wars cares about and respects Wild, but it seems Wild wants nothing to do with him, and he's been cold towards Wars for the majority of Lu. To Wild, Wars reminds him of his perceived failure. Which is valid feelings, but still not fair. And I think that ask is talking about these two.

The thing I love about this is each of them are right and wrong in some ways, leading to the tension between them. So fully blaming either of them is not logical

The rest of the chain is just vibing. Except twilight who's mad and wants them to just grow up, but. Heros of courage not wisdom @uniquevoidflowers ;)

And that ask- '''Are any of the Links ever jealous of another Link for adventures that were less difficult/life threatening?'' ''When you hear Wild say he 'hates' someone you'll have your answer.''' somewhat leads to my next point-

Wild's identity and memory issues exacerbate all of this

In Entrance, Twilight is being stressed and defensive, that's ok. What concerns me most is that Twilight has talked with Wild through stuff like this in his rough moments

Wild has tried to be formal several times- he is not very good at it

Four's face I can't didnwidkekfjej

Wild isn't and can't be 'him'- the same 'perfect' (<actually has crippling anxiety) knight he was before, and Twilight knows this. And I agree with him a bit, I think, that Wars is making things worse in Wild's mind by being that perfect soldier, and seemingly holding Wild to a standard he isn't

Wild's attempts at saluting is symbolic of that- Wars makes him feel like a failure trying to be the person he should be. But Wild shouldn't be anyone but himself.

Anyways. Fire.

Wars and Wild have issues, and I want them to work through all their relationship drama so they can reach their PEAK dynamic, which is obviously this

I mean like. We need these two to be friends

Anyways. Wild is in this constant state of identity crisis, and being around Wars has not been beneficial- neither of them is or has been showing the other the respect they deserve. Not as knights, but as people and brothers. They need a get along shirt.

All this Art is by Jojo @linkeduniverse au!

#that's it that's my argument. they need a get along shirt #I think times armor would work. they are small enough to be the kids shoved in dads clothes to get along #it could hold up when wars starts breathing fire and wild blowing stuff up #linked universe #linkeduniverse #hiii Jesse #Lu wild #lu wars #let's talk about it! I know some of yall will disagree with me probably on some of this #open communication and whatnot #but. do not take this post to hate on wild or wars bc they are both baby <3 fire babies #this post took like three days. like it.#<wait that's unclear. I don't mean literally like it lol I just want you to like as because I made it for you and want it to make you happy #':D if I've said anything like mean or offensive accidentally sorry let me know. we all care so much about these little arsonists <33 #remember you are loved yall matter so much and I care about you #:)#if I have type the word 'wars' or 'wild' one more time I'm gonna lose it

769 notes · View notes

willows-escape · 9 months ago

Text

My Angel - 1990!Erik x Reader

Pairing: 1990!Cherik x AFAB!Reader (gender neutral pronouns/language)

Summary: You woke up that morning expecting a peaceful, regular day, but you were quickly proven horribly wrong as things began to travel down south. Fortunately, Erik is there to try and relieve some of the pain - even if it is excruciating.

Warnings(/Tags?): menstruation, descriptions of extremely painful periods (adenomyosis/endometriosis), erik is dramatic but its okay he has an excuse, nausea, mentions of vomit but no actual vomiting, early 1900s appropriate period shame, blood and heavy bleeding, brief mention of reader not eating all day but it's only due to lack of appetite, reassurance, fluff!!!!, like TOOTH ROTTING sweetness!!!!

Words: 6.9k

Notes: this isn't what i originally planned to post today, but i have adenomyosis and when my periods come they come bad and the pain is making me feel very sorry for myself. and i did promise something soon. so this is just self indulgent fluff in the mean time.

the other thing i was writing will be entirely gender neutral, so people who do not at all identify with menstruation or just don't want to read about it will hopefully enjoy that when it's done!

DISCLAIMER - this is based off of my experiences with periods, which will not look like most because I have a gynaecologic condition. but if you do 100% relate to this, go see a doctor! like, yesterday!

The morning began like any other, with a restless night's sleep behind you. As you stirred awake, you found yourself alone in bed, but a smile crept across your face as you noticed the lingering warmth on the sheets beside you - a subtle reminder of a certain someone’s recent presence.

Succumbing to the lethargy that clung to your limbs, you reached for the nearest available outfit. The garments were wrinkled and well-worn, but they served their purpose of preserving your modesty. You slipped them on, grateful for the barrier they provided against the cool morning air, despite their less-than-pristine condition.

As you emerged from your bedroom, you stumbled, the door slamming shut behind you with an echoing thud. Your body felt leaden, each limb weighed down as if filled with concrete. Shafts of light piercing through the stone crevices assaulted your eyes, intensifying the dull throb that had begun to pulse at your temples.

"Erik?" your voice cracked, barely above a whisper. The name came out as a hoarse, groggy mumble, hardly recognizable even to your own ears.

Despite your feeble attempt at calling out, Erik appeared before you almost instantly, as if summoned by your whisper.

"Y/N! You're up," he said joyfully, his body adorned in one of his special going out outfits, "much earlier than usual, may I add. I was in the middle of preparing us a picnic before you have to go back up but-"

His gaze finally narrowed onto your hunched form, his previous relaxed expression shifting to one of concern. Your dishevelled appearance was evident - your hair in disarray, your eyes glazed over, bloodshot, and unfocused. It was clear that you were far from your usual self, and to put it lightly, appeared extremely unwell.

"What is the matter?" he asked. You hadn’t noticed it before, but the picnic basket he had been holding clattered to the stone floor, forgotten in an instant as his full attention focused on you.

As though his question was the trigger, a wave of nausea crashed over you. Your chest constricted, forcing you to hunch over even further. Your skin flushed hot in an instant, beads of sweat forming and quickly multiplying across your skin.

"Angel, what's wrong?" Erik's voice trembled, his words tumbling out in a rush. Had you been more lucid, you might have felt a pang of guilt for causing him such distress.

"I'm fine," you mumbled unconvincingly. His hand gently rested on your shoulder, and instantly your body betrayed you. The comforting touch seemed to signal to your system that it was safe to let go, and suddenly, you felt overwhelmed by a surge of nausea and dizziness.

A dull ache blossomed in your lower abdomen. Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively pressed a hand against your stomach. The discomfort flooded your senses as your face contorted, a grimace etching itself across your features as you struggled to maintain composure.

Within moments, the discomfort escalated from a mild annoyance to an all-consuming agony that left you immobilized.

Shivers began to wrack your body. Your legs turned to lead, a numbing sensation creeping up from your toes. Simultaneously, a searing, deep-seated ache took root in your lower back.

If Erik was worried before, he was panicking now. His eyes widened with alarm, his breathing quickened, and his usually steady hands began to tremble visibly. The calm composure he typically maintained crumbled in an instant, replaced by an overwhelming sense of dread and urgency.

Your legs buckled beneath you, your vision blurring as you felt yourself wilting towards the unforgiving stone floor. Erik sprang into action, his arms shooting out to catch you. The world spun as he scooped you up, your body limp in his grasp. A sharp cry escaped your lips as the sudden movement sent a jolt of agony through your core, the comfort of his embrace overshadowed by the searing pain that threatened to consume you.

With swift strides, Erik navigated the winding halls, cradling you protectively in his arms. He retraced your earlier path, arriving at the door you had just exited moments ago. With a forceful kick, he flung it open, revealing the familiar sight of your shared bedroom.

"I'm going to set you down onto the bed," he explained slowly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. "I’ll be as careful as I can."

When he gently pulled back the blanket on your side of the bed, you felt a slight jostling. Your attention, however, was abruptly drawn by a sharp intake of breath, his gasp cutting through the silence of the room.

"Erik?" you mumbled weakly. Your words were abruptly cut off as another wave of pain tore through your abdomen, causing you to cry out involuntarily.

Once more, you felt yourself being moved, this time to Erik's side of the bed. Confusion clouded your mind - why the change? But as you weakly lifted your head, the reason became starkly clear.

"Oh god-" you gasped, your eyes widening in shock at the sight before you. The vivid crimson stain on your side of the bed was impossible to ignore, its stark contrast against the pale sheets making your stomach churn with a mix of embarrassment and dread.

“I need to go find Gerard, you need to be seen by a doctor,” he declared, voice urgent and desperate.

He finally lowered you onto the clean side of the bed, and your eyes instinctively sought his face. It was then you realised his mask was off, likely because he hadn't anticipated you waking so soon. Without the barrier, you could clearly see the stark pallor of his unmarked skin and the unmistakable fear etched across his features. His typically composed demeanour had given way to raw, unfiltered concern that was both touching and unsettling.

He turned to leave.

"Erik, wait," you gasped, your hand shooting out to grasp his arm. "The pain is... excruciating, I won't lie. But I don't think—"

Your words were cut short as another wave of agony crashed over you. A strangled whimper escaped your lips as you curled into yourself, your body trembling uncontrollably. The pain was all-consuming, leaving you breathless and disoriented. You clenched your eyes shut, willing the torment to pass, knowing all you could do was endure until it subsided.

"Where's the pain? Can you pinpoint where you're bleeding from?" his eyes darted across your form, taking in your dulled complexion and the sheen of sweat on your skin. "You're burning up. Do you have a fever?"

His questions came in rapid succession, but his touch remained gentle as he brushed your damp hair away from your forehead.

"I... um..." you hesitated, struggling to articulate through the pain. The situation presented a dilemma: discussing such a private matter with a man felt improper, yet the severity of your discomfort and the alarming amount of blood made it impossible to simply dismiss. You found yourself caught.

Another intense surge of pain rose in your stomach, but this one more overwhelming than the last. Your ability to speak fully vanished as your eyes clenched shut. Soft whimpers escalated into frantic, muffled cries as the relentless throbbing in your lower abdomen intensified, twisting your nerves and leaving you gasping for breath.

"Angel, please, tell me what’s going on," Erik pleaded, tenderly taking your hand in his. The desperation in his eyes was palpable as he watched you struggle to form words. “I really believe you need a doctor, please just let me-”

"No, please," you winced, your voice barely audible through gritted teeth. The words came out strained, a mixture of pain and embarrassment colouring your tone. "It's... it's not something I can easily explain," you paused, taking a shaky breath before adding, "it's rather private."

"Private?" he echoed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and concern. "Forgive my being impolite, but you are currently writhing in agony and bleeding profusely- how on Earth is that private!?"

"Erik," you implored, your eyes silently conveying your discomfort with the subject. However, his concern for your well-being trumped any social niceties. Undeterred by your unspoken plea, he persisted with his questions, determined to understand and help.

"If you explain what's happening, I might be able to help," he insisted. You gave him a sceptical look, but he pressed on, "my years in isolation weren't idle, I've acquired a vast array of knowledge from the countless books that have kept me company."

"It's just not appropriate for me to discuss this with you!" you cried in refute, your voice strained with both pain and embarrassment. Despite your best efforts to remain composed, your tone came out sharper than intended.

You silently prayed he would forgive you, considering the fact that you were enduring mind-boggling amounts of pain. Not only that, the fact you could distinctly feel the familiar warm leakage of blood trickling down your thighs and onto the bedsheets below was driving you utterly insane.

Shame coursed through you as your eyes fell upon the stark evidence of your debilitating pain staining the otherwise white sheets. Averting your gaze, you felt utterly exposed and vulnerable. An overwhelming desire to shield yourself from Erik's concerned stare gripped you, making you wish you could simply disappear.

However, your discomfort eased as Erik's touch changed. His firm grip on your hand softened, his fingers now tracing gentle patterns on your skin. Despite the worry in his eyes, you sensed his effort to stay calm for your sake.

Your heart tugged in your chest at the realisation.

"Y/N," he began, his voice tender yet hesitant as he tried to hold himself together. His gaze locked onto yours as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Please, put your shame aside for one moment and let me in- if only so that I can help you. It kills me to see you like this."

His ignorance of the situation was evident in the way his chest heaved and how he chewed the inside of his cheek with a vengeance. It was clear he believed you were in grave danger. You knew you needed to say something to ease his mind, even if it went against everything your instincts were telling you to do.

"Oh," you breathed, wincing as another wave of pain crashed over you. "It's... it's a delicate matter. Not something typically discussed in polite company."

"Do I look like polite company to you?" Erik's sarcastic retort was accompanied by a growing urgency in his previously calm ministrations. His eyes started to dart frantically between the blood staining your skin and your tired, visibly distressed face.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for Erik's potential upset. Despite your fears of his disgust or anger, of him calling you dirty or telling you to leave until you return to normal, a small part of you hoped he might be more understanding than expected. It was this glimmer of optimism that gave you the courage to finally speak.

"Erik," you began hesitantly, "are you familiar with the concept of... menstruation?"

The prolonged silence following your question spoke volumes. When Erik finally shook his head, it only confirmed what you had already suspected.

"Well," you began hesitantly, searching for the right words, "it's a process that occurs in people with uteruses. It involves bleeding and a lot of pain, typically happening monthly for one week out of the month. I don't really know much about the biological reasons behind it, but-"

Your explanation was abruptly halted as another shock of excruciating pain engulfed you. Erik, sensing your distress, quickly offered his hand. You latched onto it, your grip surprisingly fierce. As the agony intensified, your body convulsed against the sheets, and muffled sobs escaped your lips. You desperately willed the torment to stop, but it seemed endless despite your determination to endure.

"Fuck!"

Erik looked taken aback by your cussing, but seeing as you were squeezing his hand so hard he felt like your aim was to tear it off, he didn't focus on it too much.

Eventually, the pain faded back to its baseline ache - which was still extremely unpleasant, but manageable.

"I apologize," you coughed through your tears, your voice strained as you brushed away the beads of sweat trickling down your forehead.

"There's no need to apologize," he reassured, his voice filled with compassion. "I'm deeply concerned for your wellbeing, but I trust your understanding of this situation. If you say it's not life-threatening, I will trust you."

“Yeah, I'm definitely in no life threatening danger," you assured him, "but the pain is so intense, it almost feels like I am."

"It hurts so badly," you whimpered, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over. "Ever since I was young, I've had to live with such excruciating pain and such heavy bleeding that I can barely function or even leave my bed. It's so exhausting and I've lost count of the times I've passed out on dirty floors, lying in my own vomit because of this."

"I know, I know," he murmured, not truly understanding and internally slightly horrified but wanting to comfort you regardless. He gently wiped away your tears as they fell, his touch tender and reassuring.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. "This is terribly embarrassing. You shouldn't have to witness this. You tried to regain composure, but the combination of physical discomfort and emotional vulnerability made it impossible to stem the tide of tears.

Suddenly, Erik began to move. Your attention was so focused on the hurricane of emotions swirling around your body that you barely noticed him shifting to your side of the bed. It wasn't until he began to lower himself onto the mattress beside you that panic set in, causing you to react instinctively.

"No, wait!" you exclaimed, your sudden outburst causing him to recoil in surprise. Realizing your tone, you softened your voice. "I'm sorry, but please don't sit there. I... I don't want you to get dirty."

"Dirty?" Erik repeated, his eyes flickering to the stain beneath him. A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "It's just blood, I mean really- it's not like I haven't been covered in my own fair share of the stuff. This small spot is hardly cause for concern."

"Erik, please, it's not just blood!" you insisted, the shame taking over as you looked at the spot where you'd bled. It didn’t help that you were in too much pain and felt far too weak to even do anything about it!

He raised an eyebrow at you. "How can it be 'not just blood'? Does your blood contain arsenic?"

You couldn’t help but groan at his sarcastic retort.

"Menstrual blood comes from a person's private areas," you grumbled, your cheeks burning with embarrassment as you tried to convey the gravity of the situation.

He paused for a moment, then replied, "well, that certainly wasn't the answer I expected, but it doesn't change my opinion. Blood is blood, no matter where it comes from. Besides, fabric—and people—can always be washed. You don't need to be moving around for the sake of preserving meaningless things, you need to rest."

"But!-"

"Now that that's settled..." he shrugged off the jacket he’d been wearing and eased himself onto the mattress, inching closer to your awestruck form.

You were utterly speechless. He just- and then he- and he said-

"May I hold you? I won't if it causes you pain," he asked, his voice earnest and gentle. His tender concern only added to your bewildered state.

Words failed you as Erik gently pulled you into his embrace. The warmth of his body enveloped you, offering a comfort you didn't realize you so desperately craved. Despite the momentary twinge in your abdomen as he carefully adjusted your position, you found yourself melting into his arms. In that moment, his presence was a bandage to your pain-wracked body and troubled mind.

"Is this position comfortable?" He inquired. His arm gently supported the back of your neck, while his other hand rested lightly on your upper arm, providing a comforting presence without applying pressure. You managed a small nod in response, grateful for his attentiveness.

"Good. Now, where does it hurt?"

As his hand began to drift lower, more particularly towards your thighs, you suddenly realized the direction his thoughts were taking. Your eyes widened in a mix of surprise and mild alarm.

"Wait, not there!" you exclaimed, immediately regretting your sudden outburst as a fresh wave of pain surged through you. You winced, silently chastising yourself for your impulsive reaction.

"Oh. My deepest apologies," Erik said, his voice tinged with embarrassment as he blinked sheepishly. "I wouldn't have touched you anywhere without permission, but when you mentioned the blood's origin, I assumed—well, I thought—"

"Yeah, I know what you thought," you laughed breathlessly, wincing as another flash of pain assaulted your insides. "But contrary to your guess, the pain is mainly in my lower abdomen. Still, I appreciate your... eagerness to help."

His hand, which had been hovering uncertainly, now settled gently on your stomach. The warmth of his palm seeped through your skin as he watched your face intently, searching for any sign of discomfort. Finding none, he took your relaxed expression as silent permission and began to move his hand in slow, soothing circles.

Your mind went blank.

The warmth of his hand on your stomach felt heavenly. The sensation was unlike anything you'd experienced before. While it didn't eliminate the pain by any means, it soothed the intensity more than you thought anything ever could. As his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles on your skin, you felt your entire body relaxing, tension melting away with each careful movement.

Your tears, once born of shame and torment, now flowed from sheer relief.

"Thank you," you sniffled, peace washing over you whilst your body finally began to relax. As your muscles slowly unclenched, the bed beneath you seemed to transform, becoming a soft, inviting cloud that cradled your aching form.

Erik could sense your growing ease just from the shift in your demeanour. He was well aware that the mattress and bed sheets were likely ruined, but your comfort and rest took precedence over any stains—especially ones that no one else would ever lay eyes on. And it wasn’t like he couldn’t always procure new clothes for you if your current ones were beyond saving.

"Rest now, angel," he murmured softly, his hand continuing its soothing motions. "I'll be here when you wake up."

As you drifted off into a peaceful slumber, Erik decided it was probably time to delve into those medical journals he'd long avoided.

What? He just preferred reading fiction, that's all.

As evening fell, you stirred from your sleep, immediately noticing the emptiness beside you. Your hand brushed against the cool sheets where Erik had been, confirming your suspicion—he had left your side some time ago. Disappointment creased your brow as you pondered his whereabouts.

You laid motionless on the mattress, your gaze fixed on the spot where Erik had been before you drifted off. The pain in your lower abdomen persisted, but it had noticeably diminished compared to earlier. Your skin felt clammy, and your throat parched, yet overall, you felt surprisingly okay.

"You're awake," a familiar voice called from the corner of the room.

Your frown melted away as you realized he hadn't left at all. True to his word, Erik had simply shifted to the corner of the room, maintaining his vigilant watch over you.

"It's 7:30 PM, which is quite an unusual time to start your day, don't you think?" he teased. You sat up, observing him sitting comfortably in the chair you two kept in the room for convenience's sake.

This time, he wore his mask, unlike earlier when you had awoken. Your gaze drifted downward, landing on the enormous tome in his hands—the bulkiest book you'd ever laid eyes on. Curiosity piqued, you gestured silently toward the literary behemoth he cradled, wordlessly urging him to elaborate on the book in his grasp.

"I know—this is definitely a hefty one. Thank god for chapter indexes," he remarked, weighing the book in his hands. "However, I must say, its contents are appallingly lacking in knowledge."

"How so?" you prompted.

"Well, this is supposed to be a medical journal, and yet, when I look for information on menstruation, it's woefully inadequate," he scoffed. "It merely states that menstruation is linked to the reproductive cycle and helps the uterus prepare for potential pregnancy. That's all."

"Well, that's still more than I knew before," you said with a shrug.

"It's obscene. I read in another book that it happens to half the population from around ages 16 to 50, and yet so many people have gone their whole lives not knowing why?" He shook his head in bewilderment. "And I thought science had come much further than that."

“You read another book? How many of these have you read?” you asked, astonished by his dedication.

“Oh, just whatever I had lying around. A couple dozen or so,” he replied, as if everyone just had dozens of books on medical knowledge floating around their abode. “But some of them were so old they attributed menstruation to miasma, so I didn’t pay much attention to those. And I also busied myself with books on herbal remedies and pain relief- apparently there’s this new medicine called Aspirin on the market? Exciting, but I can’t get a hold of that right now, unfortunately.”

As he rose from the chair, you noticed the stacks of books surrounding his feet. He hadn't exaggerated when he mentioned "a dozen or so" - they were all massive, thicker than any you'd ever seen! You racked your brain, trying to recall where in the cellars he might have been concealing these enormous volumes, but you couldn't remember ever spotting them before.

"I may be mistaken, but you seem to be feeling better than you did this morning," he observed, neatly arranging the books into orderly stacks rather than leaving them scattered haphazardly.

"Definitely," you nodded. "The pain is still present, but it's significantly less intense now."

"That's good," he replied, humming as he pushed his first pile to the side to work on the next. "You did give me quite a fright earlier. I thought... Well, I'm not sure what I thought."

"It's understandable. I mean, I'm not sure why, but I expected you to have some... slight awareness of the subject," you admitted, awkwardly averting your gaze.

Even though you knew Erik wasn't raised with the same rules and expectations as you, discussing menstruation still felt like breaching a taboo. The topic remained uncomfortable, despite your rational understanding that it shouldn't be.

"I do feel quite foolish for not being aware of it sooner. But then again, how many women do you think I've encountered in my life? Besides my mother, the answer is none. And even that meeting was brief," he said matter-of-factly.

You didn't really know how to respond to that, so you let a comfortable silence settle between you. Erik swiftly finished organizing his books, then hurried out to return them to their proper places. He reappeared within moments.

"Now, unless there are other aspects of your anatomy I should be aware of," he said with a hint of amusement, "I believe a bath is in order." His eyes darted meaningfully towards the bed, drawing your attention to the mess you had somehow overlooked. You were mortified as you realized the extent of the stains, which had spread far beyond where you'd expected, creating abstract patterns on the once-pristine sheets.

"Ugh, yes," you grimaced, suddenly noticing the uncomfortable layer of blood on your skin. "A bath is definitely overdue. But what about you? Have you had a chance to clean up?"

"You've been out for eleven hours. I bathed ages ago," he stated. "Just give me half an hour or so to boil some water for the bath. That way, you won't be freezing in there."

While you appreciated Erik's thoughtfulness, the sensation of dried, itchy filth on your skin was unbearable. The prospect of waiting even a moment longer to cleanse yourself seemed more daunting than enduring the bite of cold water.

"Don’t bother," you cringed, "I can't bear this feeling any longer. I need to wash off immediately, even if the water's cold. The discomfort of icy water is preferable to this... filth."

“Have some patience. It’s the late evening in a cellar right next to a lake, you’ll die from cold exposure,” he deadpanned.

Though you understood the logic behind his words, you couldn't suppress a playful pout. Erik's eyes rolled with amusement as he approached you on the bed. Leaning over, he tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead, the gentle gesture melting away your feigned disappointment.

"Are you sure you're not in too much pain right now? Tomorrow I'll ask Gerard to procure some herbs, but until then I have a few remedies I can try with items lying around," he asked, straightening up to look down at you with a raised eyebrow.

"It's bearable," you affirmed.

"Good," he said, moving towards the door. "Stay here while I set up the bath. If you need anything, just call for me."

“Trust me, I won’t be going far anytime soon.”

Thirty minutes later, Erik returned as promised. During the wait, you occupied yourself with daydreams and silent lamentations about your bodily predicament. You couldn’t help but be stuck on the thought that you’d be stuck like this until you were 50—you weren't even halfway through!

"Can you walk alright?" he asked, concerned about you putting any unnecessary strain on your body.

After considering your current condition, you replied, "I think I could manage, but would you mind carrying me to the bathroom anyway? I've heard blood leaves quite stubborn stains on stone."

Wordlessly, he obliged, gently cradling you in his arms. One arm supported your back while the other nestled beneath your knees. As he carefully lifted you, his eyes fell upon the crimson stain left behind. The sight of such copious bleeding caused a flicker of concern to cross his face, though he tried to conceal it.

You were supposed to bleed that much every month for a week straight without dying?

Pushing aside his alarming thoughts about your potential demise, he carried you carefully to the bathroom, his movements slow and deliberate. As he cradled you, you realized this level of attentiveness was something you could easily grow accustomed to. You made a mental note that future menstrual cycles would be spent here in the cellars, rather than hiding from him in the Opera Populaire as you'd done before.

"Thank you for today," you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. As you spoke, you instinctively burrowed closer, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

He let out a low chuckle, tinged with self-deprecation. "Thank you? I've barely done anything noteworthy," he scoffed, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. You couldn't see his expression, but you sensed the frown in his words. "To be honest, I feel rather inadequate. I wish I could have been more helpful to you in this situation."

"Don't say that," you insisted, nudging his chest with your head in retaliation. "You've gone above and beyond what most people would do. You've read dozens of books today just to understand me better. You've prepared a bath for me and prioritized my rest over your bedding. Most men would have either shooed me away or fled in your position."

A door creaked open, plunging you into momentary darkness as Erik gently lowered you to your feet. Your voice softened with emotion as you whispered, "your kindness and attentiveness mean more to me than words can express."

The gas valve hissed softly as it turned, gradually illuminating the bathroom. As your eyes adjusted to the light, you noticed a plush black towel draped over the edge of the tub, ready for use. On a nearby rack hung a set of fresh clothes—their style unmistakably reminiscent of Erik's wardrobe—waiting patiently for you to don them after your bath.

He cleared his throat loudly, a gesture you'd come to recognise as his way of masking his flustered state. "It's nothing extraordinary," he mumbled, his voice tinged with a mix of modesty and discomfort at the praise, "just basic human decency."

“But-“

"Is there anything else you need before I go to clean up?" he abruptly asked.

You sighed, giving him a pointed look for interrupting you. Deciding to let it go, you allowed the shift in conversation.

"I can manage from here, thank you," you hummed. "But would you mind fetching my sanitary belt from my bag? I'll need it after the bath."

“Sanitary belt?”

"Yeah. It's a belt that wraps around your waist and holds a sanitary towel in place to collect the, um, blood," you explained, awkwardly gesturing with your hands to illustrate. "You'll recognize it when you see it."

With a tender kiss on your forehead, Erik departed, promising to return with what you need.

The moment he left, you wasted no time shedding your clothes and depositing them in the nearby basket. Eager for relief, you eased yourself into the bathtub, a contented sigh escaping your lips as the pleasantly warm water enveloped you. The soothing heat melted away any lingering discomfort, allowing you to immerse yourself fully in the task of cleansing. With meticulous care, you began to wash away the day's troubles, savouring the unexpected comfort the bath provided.

He returned shortly after, placing the belt on the rack alongside your other necessities. Once again, he inquired about your well-being, prompting you to playfully scold him for his constant concern. Nevertheless, you reassured him that you were fine, adding that the warm bath water provided more pain relief than you had anticipated.

He seemed on the verge of making a sarcastic comment—likely along the lines of "I told you so"—but thought better of it. Bidding you a final goodbye, he left to strip and prepare the bed, allowing you to finish cleaning up in peace.

You continued this until the water was doing you more of a disservice than it was cleansing you. Pulling the drain cover open, you allowed the dirty water to flow out and empty the tub. Silently, you thanked Erik for installing this modern convenience in his home—one of the few upgrades he'd chosen, despite his ability to afford many more.

A chill crept over your damp skin, urging you to hasten your routine. Goosebumps prickled across your body as you quickly patted yourself dry with the towel, appreciating how he'd made sure it was black and not white. You then clumsily secured the sanitary belt around your waist, wincing at its familiar discomfort.

Immediately after, you slipped into the night shirt he had provided. The loose-fitting trousers were a blessing, their gentle embrace and soft material accommodating your tender midsection without adding pressure. Once you finished dressing, a sense of satisfaction gleamed in your chest. You felt refreshed, clean, and rejuvenated.

You made sure to brush your teeth before finishing up in the bathroom, when the horrific cramps returned once again. Doubled over and jaw clenched, you shuffled towards the door with painstaking slowness. Your quivering hand fumbled with the gas valve, finally managing to shut off the light. The room plunged into darkness as you walked out, door falling shut behind.

Groaning softly, you shuffled back towards the bedroom, where you found Erik fluffing the pillows on your freshly made bed. He wore his night attire, and despite your discomfort, you couldn't suppress a smile. Even doubled over in pain, the sight of him warmed your heart.

He swiftly noticed your presence, helping you onto the bed to spare you the effort of weakly propping yourself up. He then approached the dresser, where a mysterious lump lay concealed beneath blankets. Unfolding the coverings, he placed his hand on the hidden object and nodded with satisfaction.

He refolded the blankets over it before walking over to you. Curious and confused, you tried to maintain an inquisitive look while fighting off the storm raging in your abdomen.

"I anticipated the pain would return once you started moving again," he said, gesturing for you to lift your shirt to reveal your belly. You complied, though your confusion deepened. "This is called a 'hot water bottle,’ a recent invention. Gerard suggested I try one to ease some discomfort from my... condition. It doesn't help me much, but it might work for you."

"How does it work?" you asked, flinching slightly as the bottle touched your skin.

"It's made of rubber and filled with hot water to transfer heat efficiently," he explained, helping you pull your shirt back down over the bottle to keep it pressed against your skin. "Since you mentioned the warm water helped, I thought this might be worth trying."

"So it's like a hot water pig, but made of rubber instead of stoneware and more convenient?" you hummed thoughtfully, resting your hands over the bottle for an extra layer of added security.

“Precisely,” he nodded.

As the warmth from the hot water bottle gradually permeated the blankets, you found it soothing but not quite potent enough to fully alleviate your discomfort. The heat offered a welcome respite, yet you yearned for more intense relief from the persistent ache.

"It does take the edge off the pain," you admitted, biting your lip pensively, "but would it be possible to remove the blanket? I think more intense heat might help even more."

"Absolutely not," he said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. "Direct contact with the bottle could result in burns. The blanket stays."

After a moment's consideration, you decided that the risk of burns did indeed outweigh the potential relief from your cramps—at least for now. You nodded, opting to keep the blanket wrapped around the water bottle, appreciating its safer warmth.

A sense of contentment washed over you as you marvelled at how this day, which had started so unexpectedly, had blossomed into something truly special.

You were with the love of your life, freshly bathed and dressed in his clothes, tucked into a clean bed with a soothing hot water bottle warming your skin and fighting against what usually was traumatic levels of pain. Tears welled in your eyes as pure bliss coursed through your veins, overwhelming you before you could even process the feeling.

As the first tear rolled down your cheek, Erik instinctively sprang into action. You couldn't help but laugh through your cascading tears, raising your hands to signal him to relax. Though hesitant, he wordlessly complied with your wishes.

"I'm okay," you sniffled, your words punctuated by small sobs. "I don't know why I'm crying. I'm just so... happy. I think I'm really, truly happy."

His eyes widened behind the mask, a mixture of surprise and awe flashing across the few of his visible features. Unable to resist, you reached up, gently grasping his hand and guiding him to lay beside you on the bed. He remained motionless, seemingly caught between disbelief and anticipation. Your heart racing, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a tender, affectionate kiss that conveyed all the emotions words couldn't quite express.

Wiping your eyes with the sleeves of your night shirt, you clutched the water bottle tighter and rolled onto your side. You nestled into his chest, his arm instinctively wrapping around you as you melded into his trembling form. Yearning for closeness, you draped your leg over his hips, your body seeking every possible point of contact.

"But—" He stammered, shaking his head in disbelief. Bewilderment dripped from his voice as he continued, "You haven't eaten all day. Surely, I should prepare something for you—"

"No," you replied, your tone firm yet affectionate.

"You must-"

"Nuh-uh," you teased.

"Really I should-"

"Shh." You leaned closer, your faces mere inches apart as you rested an arm over his waist. He tensed at the contact, despite the familiar porcelain barrier between you. "Just stay with me like this for a little while, please? Afterward, you can make all the cold meat sandwiches your heart desires."

"You told me you liked those," he grumbled in playful accusation.

A soft laugh escaped your lips as your eyes shimmered with unbridled affection. If Erik were to meet your gaze, all he'd be able to see was the pure, unadulterated euphoria radiating from your smile.

"I do," you agreed with a nod, “but only because you make them with so much love."

"So, you don't?"

You hummed thoughtfully, tilting your head back as if deeply pondering the culinary merits of cold meat sandwiches. "They're good, but they could use a little something extra," you mused. "Maybe some cucumber for crunch? Or a slice of mozzarella for creaminess?"

He scoffed in mock offence, "That completely distracts from the flavour of the meat."

"Flavour?"

"I'm glad you agree."

You pursed your lips before releasing a long, deliberate sigh. Your eyes flicked from his face to the clock. The time read 9:45 PM, yet an unwelcome wakefulness clung to you—undoubtedly a lingering consequence of your excessive eleven-hour nap.

"I’ve completely ruined my sleep schedule, haven’t I?" you mumbled. "It’s late in the evening, and I’m nowhere near tired.”

Erik paused thoughtfully before replying, "I can make you something to aid with sleep, if you'd like."

"What do you have in mind?" you asked, curiosity evident in your tone.

He thought over the matter before deciding.

"I have some dried valerian root that I can steep into a tea," he offered. "I've tried it on rare occasions. It's quite bitter, but I can add some chamomile to sweeten the taste."

"You're so lovely," you giggled, unaware of how he tensed at the compliment. "So kind and thoughtful—you call me an angel, but I think the real angel here is you. My Angel."

He paused, visibly stunned by your words.

His voice was soft and hesitant as he asked, "you believe that?"

You nodded, a soft hum of agreement escaping your lips. "I do," you said sweetly, your voice brimming with unwavering certainty.

You felt the rise and fall of his chest as he took a deep breath, seemingly trying to steady his racing heartbeat. His hold tightened around you, drawing you even closer. A radiant smile spread across your face.

"So," he stammered, clearly flustered by the compliment, "is that a yes to the tea?"

"I'd love some tea," you nodded eagerly. "But could you stay with me for ten more minutes first?"

He nodded, and you both settled into a comfortable silence—a respite he seemed to appreciate. Your fingers traced idle patterns on his palm, while his gently wove through your hair.

Ten minutes passed in this tranquil state, and you quickly realised that maybe the tea was unnecessary after all. Every thirty seconds or so, you found yourself stifling an uncontrollable yawn—a gesture you noticed Erik unconsciously mirroring.

Your eyelids grew heavy, the combined warmth of his body and the water bottle proving irresistible. You drifted toward sleep at least five times, always jolting awake at the last moment before you fully succumbed. Despite your drowsiness, you yearned to savour this moment just a little longer.

"Do you still want that tea?" Erik asked, his voice heavy with exhaustion.

You shook your head and nestled closer to his chest. "I'm fine now," you murmured contentedly.

"Good," he replied, his hand gently smoothing down your flyaway hairs. He seemed on the verge of saying more, but fatigue clouded his thoughts, and he let the moment pass.

He yawned once more, momentarily pulling away from you. You whined in protest, but he shushed you as he reached behind his head to untie his mask. Attempting to place it carefully on the bedside table, he misjudged the distance, and it slipped towards the floor.

The mask remained intact, though the sound it emitted was sharp enough to make you flinch. To your astonishment, Erik seemed unconcerned by the possible harm. Instead, he calmly readjusted your position so you were laying as before, then closed his eyes. A surge of emotion swelled in your chest.

Erik had grown comfortable with you seeing him without his mask, though he typically preferred to keep it on unless taken by surprise or during the quiet hours of the night when you were both sleeping. His current indifference toward the mask could mean one of two things: either he was too exhausted to notice its near demise, or he had become so deeply at ease with you that he no longer felt the need to shield himself behind it.

Erik possessed other masks, but they could never replace his favourite. His primary one was treated with the utmost reverence, as fragile and irreplaceable as a feather. It was the one he felt most secure in and allowed him the most normalcy, therefore it was always his first choice regardless of other options. Yet now, without hesitation or concern, he had allowed it to fall away, as though its significance had vanished entirely, as if the bond between you had rendered it unnecessary.

You felt the urge to cry again, but not wanting to disturb his sleep, you suppressed your tears as you contemplated the significance of this moment for both of you.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice cracking with emotion. Though it could be mistaken for tiredness, the tremor in your words betrayed your overwhelming desire to burst into tears of joy.

After a moment, one bleary eye opened as he turned to face you. His lips curved into a genuine smile as he whispered, "I love you too."

'hot water pigs' are what people used to call hot water bottles, or at least their versions of them, just so you know lol. writing these fics always requires so much research into old terms and the existence of things that are now regular everyday items, it's kind of crazy. like trying to figure out how much was known about periods in the late 1800s early 1900s was a challenge.

#phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera musical #phantom of the opera x reader #erik destler x reader #cherik #erik the phantom #erik destler #gaston leroux #poto #musical #1990 phantom of the opera #phantom of the opera 1990 #poto 1990 #poto x reader #cherik poto

461 notes · View notes

elllisaaa · 1 year ago

Text

no nut november - bangchan (4th to lose)

-> pairing : chan x fem!reader

-> words count : 3,1k

-> genre : smut, friends/sex friends to lovers

-> warnings : switch!chan, begging, teasing, dirty talk, praising, unprotected sex, hair pulling, handbjod, manhandling, creampie, use of 'slut', a tiny little bit of angst because chan is overthinking + the way i'm depicting bangchan does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors dni

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | no nut november

November 18th, 10 pm, and all Chan was thinking about was you. Nonetheless, he should focus on what was going on behind his eyes, on his screen. But his mind was clearly not at it since this morning. He tried to work on his new song, on the lyrics, on the beat, on everything he could but nothing seemed to help.

Chan leaned into his desk chair, sighing and closing his eyes in an attempt to stop his thoughts from running. Without needing to concentrate this time, you immediately appeared to him. At first, it was just your beautiful smile when you were talking about the things you loved, or the way you had to sit on chairs, crossing your legs and making you look so tiny Chan wanted to protect you from the world. But then, it was like someone corrupted him. He could easily picture your blissed out face when you came around his fingers or cock, even more easily picturing your hands stroking his dick.

Chan sighed again, but that didn’t help him with his little problem. What would’ve helped him was if you were there with him. He saw his phone from the corner of his eyes, peacefully resting on his desk, and he hesitated for several minutes. What should he do ? Call you and lose ? Or just resist ?

Your relationship was pretty unusual, to say the least. Since the first time you saw each other, you clicked immediately. You were caring and calm, but once you started talking about something you loved, you were the most passionate person he knew. He loved it because you were always able to relax him just with your presence and voice, but he also loved the fact that you could be as energetic as him at other times.

But besides that, you were also someone who knew what she wanted. And you made it clear to him really quickly that he was what you wanted. And who was Chan to refuse such a proposal ? Obviously, he didn’t. But the more time passed, the more his feelings grew. And worst of all, he couldn’t stop it. Because you also made it clear that you didn’t want something serious, just being friends with benefits was fine, right ?

It was until Chan messed it all up with his feelings. But before his brain could even register it, he had grabbed his phone and called you already. Must do that quickly so he would not have the time to regret what he had done.

“- Long time no see Channie !”

The said Channie closed his eyes, feeling his heart skipping a beat hearing your voice. He stayed away from you since the start of this stupid bet, he didn’t realize until now how much he missed you, all of you.

“- Yeah… Sorry, I know I’ve been distant but…

- Don’t worry ! Binnie told me about it, I have no problem with that. And it’s kinda flattering.

- Flattering ?

- Yeah… It’s like you admitting you can’t control yourself when you see me, isn’t that right ?”

He gulped at your words. You were sadly not that far from truth, except the fact that it wasn’t only your body, but your all self that was tempting him, from the way you were clenching around him when you were about to come to your beautiful smile. Everything about you was a temptation to him, but he couldn’t admit it to you, nor was he able to stop all of that before hurting both of you.

“- You saw right through me again…

- I know you very well, I must admit.

- So you surely know why I call you ?

- Of course. I’m on my way.”

He could hear your smirk as you talked, and before he even had the chance to answer, you hung up. But you weren’t the type to lie, Chan knew you were gonna knock on his door in a matter of minutes, and he didn’t want to figure out why he felt a heavy weight on his heart.

________________

“- Missed this…”

Your lips trailed along his neck, licking and sucking on it, and Chan tilted his head to the side to grant you more access to his skin. His hands were gripping your thighs firmly, preventing you from moving away from him. Once you put one foot in his room, you didn’t let him think twice before pushing him back into his chair, straddling him and kissing him like you hadn’t tasted him in years.

“- Missed you Chan…”

His heart melted hearing your sweet voice saying you missed him. And God knows how much he missed you. So much. But he had to be realistic : you didn’t really miss him, you just missed his lips on yours, his hands on you, his dick in you. The facts were there, though. But Chan just decided to push it back and simply enjoy your lips on his and feeling your skin under his fingertips.

“- I missed you too…”

Your little smile made you look so hot, so hot he wanted to pin you down on his bed and ruin you. But he was weak, you made him weak. So weak you just needed to move slightly against him to get him to moan. And your smile widened at the sound, loving to actually hear the effect you had on him. You closed your eyes, starting to grind on him at the same time. Chan’s hands flew to your hips, pushing you down against his hard cock. You whined quietly, gripping on his shoulders for support.

“- What do you want me to do baby ? Just tell me.”

Your eyes were only focused on him, nothing else, and Chan felt overwhelmed. He wanted you to kiss him, to lick his body, to let him fuck you. He wanted you to do what you wanted, all of it, just because what he really wanted was to please you.

“- Whatever you want. I just need you.

- That’s why I’m here. My hands ?”

Chan nobbed and you pecked his lips one more time before backing off a little, allowing you more space to touch him. He saw you licking your lips while pulling off his shorts and boxer just enough to free his hard cock, and it was hot as hell. He should have been ashamed by the fact he was already leaking precum, but your hungry look threw away his last piece of dignity, leaving him entirely at your mercy.

“- You weren’t joking when you said you missed me, hm ?”

Once again, Chan should've felt ashamed, but you both knew you were right. The feeling of his own hands on him wasn’t quite the half of what he was feeling when it was your hands. Your lustful gaze was focused only on his throbbing dick, your teeth biting into the flesh of your plush bottom lip as you watched him chasing your touch. That was making it very difficult for him not to blow right away.

“- Feels good Channie ?

- Yeah… Keep going, please.”

You chuckled lightly at his pleading. He should have known how crazy he was driving you just by existing, not to mention the effect he had on you every time he turned into a stuttering mess under your hands, and it was even worse every time he decided to take control - and you let him do that happily every time. He should have known that he didn’t need to beg for it, that you were eager to please him whenever he liked.

You pushed your thumb against his flushed cockhead, making him gasp and whine under your touch, before spreading his precum along his now fully hard dick. Your wrist was moving way faster now, your fingers tightening around him. Chan closed his eyes shut, feeling his orgasm approaching too fast. He wanted to enjoy your touch some more, wanted you to look at him the way you did right now all the time - as if he was the only thing in your world. But he needed his sweet relief, he needed to finally let go of the tension and frustration of these past days.

“- Just a little more… Please…”

You almost moaned, only hearing his low voice begging you was enough for you to surrender and give him what he wanted. You quickened your pace one more time, leaning down to kiss him. And that was all he needed to completely let go, moaning in your mouth as he came hard, his vision becoming blurry and his head starting to spin.

Chan stayed still for a moment, trying to come down off his high. And when he finally opened his eyes again, it was to see you licking your fingers clean. That made something switch in him. You’d notice by the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched hard, the way his fingers dug into the skin of your hips.

Without saying a word, he stood up, placing his hands under your thighs to prevent you from falling. You were about to put your hands around his neck but he threw you on his bed, a whine leaving your throat when your back hitted the mattress. That. That was what you loved so much about Chan - he could be putty in your hands and the next second manhandling you like you weighed nothing.

You admired him as he tossed his clothes away, letting your eyes wander on his tough shoulders, his toned abs, his muscular thighs. You found yourself speechless every time you saw him naked. How could he not see how handsome he was ? You pressed your thighs together trying to suppress your growing desire as he hovered over you on the bed. In no time, he settled between your legs that you spread for him as soon as you felt his knee pushing against them, earning a growl of approval from him.

“- Take off your clothes.”

You didn’t think twice before doing it. You didn’t think at all in fact. His hungry gaze was burning you, so much you thought you’d explode if he didn’t touch you. Thankfully, he unfastened your belt, sliding your jeans and underwear down your thighs as you threw away your shirt and bra, ending up naked underneath his starved look. He immediately brought his hand to your core, pushing his thumb against your clit, making you whimper.

“- So wet already… Want me that much baby ?

- Yeah… Please Chan…”

He took your chin between two of his fingers, forcing you to look at him while he sucked off his thumb covered in your slit. And that was enough to make you whine, not only because he was so hot you wanted to bounce on his dick for hours, but also because you knew how much he loved every noise coming out of your mouth.

“- You’re really not going to stop teasing, hum ?”

Your smirk was telling it all, and Chan had enough of you and your filthy mouth. He just wanted to hear you cry and scream only his name, wanted to feel like he was the one made for you.

“- On all fours baby, and hang on tight.”

You gulped and just obeyed, as if your ability to speak had been removed from you. You settled yourself, and as soon as you stopped moving, he thrusted into you so roughly you would’ve crashed into the headboard if you weren’t gripping on it tightly. The sound you were letting out were animalistic, but you weren’t able to care anymore, not when Chan was pounding into you so hard you think you’ll split in two. But the worst was that you liked it so much, feeling like he could make you come with each thrust of his dick in you, even if he didn’t take the time to stretch you out, it was even more delicious.

“- C-Chan…”

You were interrupted by a loud moan when the man behind you buried himself even deeper inside of you, hitting all the right places at once. You tried to talk again, tell him that you needed more, but your words were coming out as an incoherent mumbling.

“- So dumb everytime I put my dick in you, aren’t you ? Just need me to fill up your tight cunt…”

You nobbed eagerly, unable to do something else than crying out his name. And that was driving him crazy, his chest filling up with pride knowing he was the only one to please you like that, to fuck you like that. One of his hands slid from your hips, all along your spine, spreading shivers on your skin, only to end up in your hair, grabbing a fistfull of them and forcing you to arch your back even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you. You were probably drooling, but you didn’t gave a fuck, simply moaning when Chan pulled your hair.

“- Look at you baby… Can’t even talk anymore…”

He tugged your hair harder, the nails of his other hand digging in the skin of your hips from how roughly he was guiding you on his cock.

“- Maybe I should shut you up like this more often, what do you think ?”

You wanted to say something, wanting to let him know he could use you whenever he wanted to and that you would absolutely adore it.

“- Would you like me to fuck you every time you talk back ?”

And like every other time, he knew what you wanted, saying all the things you needed to hear, doing all the things you needed him to do.

“- Please… P-Please Chan… I-I need to-”

Another thrust shut you down, reducing you to a mumbling mess. You felt tears pool under your eyelids as the pleasure hit you harder and harder with each thrust, tightening the coil in your stomach.

“- Use your words, slut.”

The nickname paired to the moan he left out when he felt you clench around his shaft made you feel dizzy, made you feel like you were on the edge of your orgasm.

“- N-Need to cum… S-Shit !”

Chan let go of your hair, your head falling back into the pillow, guiding his fingers directly on your clit, circling it harshly and sending you over the edge in less than a minute. Your moans were so loud you almost felt sorry for his neighbors. Almost because you couldn’t bring yourself to care when you were feeling so much pleasure you could’ve faint.

Your arms were numb, and your legs were shaking so much you would’ve passed out from the intensity of your orgasm if Chan wasn’t holding you. But his sloppy trusts were keeping you awake, aware of every move he was making, of every noise coming out of his mouth.

“- Fuck ! You’re so tight… Can I cum inside ?”

You couldn't help your smile, loving the fact that he kept asking you the same question, even though you both knew your answer would always be the same.

“- Yes, please…”

Chan moaned, and you could easily picture him throwing his head back, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came, face contorted by the pleasure he was feeling as his orgasm washed over him. You felt his hot cum being spilled out of your pussy as Chan slowed the pace of his thrusts until he stopped totally. You needed a long time to find your breath again, feeling the desire to sleep creeping on you quickly.

You didn’t react when Chan pulled out of you and helped you get on your back to clean you up. You hummed happily, feeling his touch as light as a feather on your thighs and whole body. You only came back to reality when he stroked your cheek, finding him smiling at you brightly.

“- Can I stay tonight ?”

You didn’t think about it, it just came out naturally, like it was where you should have been for a long time. It was strange to realize how much you wanted to sleep in his arms just now. But what felt even more right was his honest answer when he immediately said yes. You settled yourself comfortably in his arms, enjoying being engulfed by his warmth and scent.

“- Thank you for coming…”

You chuckled lightly against his chest, remaining playing with the hair at the back of his head.

“- You don’t need to thank me for that Channie, I’ll always be there for you no matter what happens.”

Chan stayed silent for a long time. He felt like it was the right time, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that maybe he will scare you and ruin his chances to be with you one way or another. Maybe you will run away. Maybe you will tell him you just wanted him as a friend, just wanted him for sex. But he knew he could not keep up with this situation much longer.

“- I really did miss you… And not just only for… That… Think I might be starting to really like you.”

You said it almost in one breath, not wanting to lose your courage at the last second. You were aware that chances of him liking you back were very low, and you were aware it was you who had established the rules between you. But you also knew that you liked him much more than a friend or a fuck buddy. You liked all his little habits, even the ones he said were the most annoyings, you liked being the only one staying so late in his studio and getting to cuddle him even if he was busy as hell. You liked his smile, his tendency to always care for you, his ability of remembering all of these little details you even forgot telling him about.

“- Might take you on a date then… I want to do things right this time.”

You finally lifted your head up, meeting his nervous but shining eyes. You could feel his heart beating way faster under the palm that was still placed on his chest.

“- You did everything you could right. It’s me. I set up boundaries just to cross them out a few months later… And I was stupid to do that just because I was afraid of my feelings. I would love to go out with you.”

Chan kissed your forehead, and you sighed in relief. You didn’t realize until now how much you were craving this tenderness from him, and you couldn’t wait to finally be his official girlfriend to benefit from it every day, and so did Chan. You were all he could have ever dreamt of, and now you were in his arms. And he knew, for the first time of his life, that everything would be alright : with you by his side, he could only be alright.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

taglist : @bangchans-angel @its-hannjisung @3rachasninja @boi-bi-ahaha @supergoodjudgepsychic @jaiuneamesolitaiire @starsandrqindrops @anonymousreader55 @iwannabangchan69 @b3tOxic @fawnpeaks @lxrii @channiesgoodgirl @imsotiredandalsonineteen @bbchangbinnie24 @chrishak @cscsi @minskzy @hyunlixs-wife0309 @stayconnecteed @miserya99 @puppy-minnie @kaitchan @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @linosssss @channiesbedbug @whosanaanyway @coastalmaine (if your pseudo is crossed out, it's because i can't tag you and you'll have to change your settings).

#skz x reader #skz x yn #stray kids fics #stray kids x reader #chan smut #bangchan smut #chan x reader #bangchan x reader #skz smut #nnn #nnn skz #no nut november

2K notes · View notes

ptej1980 · 2 months ago

Text

Ok….Meh

So not bothered by any adjacent activity at this point. It is actually laughable. I see friends supporting friends more than ever. Her photo dump mostly modelling pics and some from here and there. Yes Luke liked it in record time, but was it him or was it his PR company. She put up and took down the post 3 times. So who knows. Remember when he was with Jade he did not even like everything she posted, so again it screams obligation.

What annoys me is the stupidity of the fan accounts trying to hype and spiral people to cause drama. The same ones who come on to our Lukola blogs to call us delusional and ask us to shut it down.

Ok. So let’s begin with one major one to stay away from Twinkle and Twerk. The IG account is posting pictures saying 🐜 is Italy 🇮🇹 with Luke and she has proof. The picture.

Is from Paphos in Cyprus and is old. Other new things that has come out and been posted is a frantic clip of Luke looking for 🐜 probably because he does not want her to go rogue. And a sad Luke picture from BAFTAs

Many things are certain about the last month that have made me have clarity. I can’t make up your mind for you but this is just my opinion.

1. 🐜 cleaned up her tags of anything to do with Luke, including the last SOHO pic, she was either instructed to or wanted to. If you were in a relationship this would not happen no partner would ask to scrip each and every connection off them on their IG.

2. Nic has cleaned up her tags, their is minimal JD tags the only ones left are ones which refer to him as a friend.

3. Luke and Nic have many posts of each other on their IG. And yes most are work related but there are definitely some personal BTS selfies and Nic has dinners out of hours and pics of her with Luke clearly on her phone in a Polaroid on her grid.

4. Luke’s team went to great lengths to remove any connection to A especially from wikerpedia. They shut that shit down. Releasing publicly single. It does not scream happy in a relationship.

5. Luke’s body language is clear. It is obvious. There is no hiding his emotions, he looks stressed, upset even angry in the 🐜 presence, when with Nicola it is the complete opposite.

The morsels are even more and very telling if need a pick me up visit @frantastical

This is what I see when I think of Lukola

This video they look like they wanted to or were about to kiss.

I don’t know when they will confirm but I feel that whatever they are doing they are happy. Luke was practically jumping out of his skin at the SAGs he could not contain it.

Sail on 🚢 We see what see, and we know what we know.

#lukola #manifesting #lukola4eva

122 notes · View notes

mrs-elsie-barnes · 1 year ago

Text

Omega Ours - Part 2 | Alpha!Cassian x Alpha!Nesta x Omega!Reader | Short Series 3.4k

Nesta and Cassian try to stay away from you, but your heat is just so irrisitable...

Warnings: 18+ sexual content, language & themes. Omegaverse dynamics including Alpha & Omega and the sexist assumptions/implications that go along with it, heat/heat cycles, claiming & knotting! Explicit sexual content, vaginal sex, anal sex, use of toys, oral sex, dp, creampie, dirty talk, bit of degredation/humiliation/teasing very much under-negotiated. NSFW. Filth.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources patient beta reading and mutual squealing from @christywantspizza ❤️

Created for @polyacotarweek - prompt 7 free day so ... Have some disgusting smut because I wish I was in a Nessian sandwich!

Cassian & Nesta - from Pinterest

Part 1 | Masterlist | Poly Fics | Cassian

“Nesta -” Cassian’s voice was a low warning growl, you kept your eyes closed as the bed dipped.

You felt worse, if anything, not better. Their scent was everywhere. On the sheets where you’d heard them make love night after night, on the pillow where the scent of Nesta’s soap lingered. Your heart was racing, your palms hot and sticky with sweat and that sick, dizzy feeling made the room spin. You couldn’t open your eyes if you tried.

Then there was a cooling hand on your forehead, fingers long and delicate, Nesta. Without thinking, you sighed into the touch, rolling towards her.

“Nesta, we talked about this, we need to get off the bed now.” Cassian’s voice was so far away, floating from the doorway, but Nesta’s was a balm against your aching mind, whispered in your ear.

“She doesn’t want me to leave, Cas, and you don’t want to leave either.”

“No, I don’t, but she made it quite clear -”

You were drowning in them, their presence, their very beings, the hum of magic that Nesta seemed to emit wherever she went, the swell of power behind Cassian’s syphons, it called to you. Your body was its own, separate from your will, arching off the bed with a whimper.

“Fuck,” Cassian was closer now, his hand touching your cheek, you nuzzled into it, the callouses on his hands were rough but his palm was a dry warmth, comforting.

The throbbing that had started in your chest moved down and you recognised the dull ache between your legs. A flush rippled over you, sending goosebumps in its wake and the humiliating feel of slick between your thighs.

“Hmm - exactly, Cas, fuck.” Nesta sounded as gone as you did, her nose tracing the line of your jaw. “I know you’re awake, sweetheart,” she cooed. Her hands slid over your body, tracing down your side and then up over your stomach and between your breasts. Naked under the blankets, your nipples pebbled when she rubbed a thumb over each nub.

The bed moved, and Cassian’s hand joined Nesta’s, cupping your full breast and squeezing gently. You moaned in response, trapped between them, your thighs wet with arousal, sliding over each other.

And then your eyes flew open and the reality of your situation dawned on you.

“What-?”

Nesta’s head dipped to nuzzle at your neck, her teeth scraping over the delicate skin and that primal side of you wanted to go lax, to let her scent you and bite you and claim you. But you wouldn’t allow it, couldn’t allow yourself to give in.

Cassian’s hand was still holding you, his wings flaring behind him, taking up every inch of your eyeline, each movement sending tingles down your spine. His smile was low, hungry and his hazel eyes flicked down to your lips before looking over your shoulder at his mate.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, we’ll take good care of you,” his voice rumbled.

Angry, you sat up, your head swimming, and pushed their hands away. “I don’t need anyone to take care of me,” you insisted, "I can take care of myself.”

With difficulty, you scrambled from the bed, dragging the sheet with you to keep your naked body covered. “If you insist,” Nesta purred, her finger trailing down your back as she passed, moving slowly towards the door. “You can probably deal with this alone, omega.”

Cassian followed, towering over you as he tipped your chin up with one long finger. “You could deal with it alone, this is your heat after all. But if you need some help, you only have to ask.” He ran his hand over your cheek and down your neck before following Nesta from the room.

As soon as the door was shut, you threw yourself back on the bed. You knew from their own activities that there were toys and oils in the little table by the bed and it was here you went first, pulling open the drawer and rummaging around until you found a beautiful crystal toy, it was long and phallic, not an unfamiliar shape, but you’d never been able to afford something beautiful before.

It was blissfully cold against your heated skin, sliding between your folds and you welcomed the stretch as you eased the toy inside, sighing as you lazed back into the bed. You moved the toy slowly, finding a rhythm that had you clenching on the unrelenting material. The haze took over again and you allowed your eyes to close, revelling in the relief of being full.

Cassian was right, this was a heat and you were sure you could handle it yourself, even if you’d never had to deal with a heat near an Alpha, let alone two, where their heavy presence remained even when they were gone, their scent, the feel of their hands. You tugged at your own nipple, remembering the feel of Nesta’s fingers. Before you could stop yourself, you were sighing her name, imagining that she was still curled up behind you, taking control of the toy between your legs. Then there was Cassian. When you were feeling so vulnerable and dizzy he had kept you steady, his agreement that this was something you could weather seemed genuine, but so was his offer to help.

They hadn’t been what you expected, this strong, warrior like couple and you moaned again. “Cassian.”

The toy stopped, a delicate hand moving yours away and taking over, the new angle brushing against your swollen clit.

“I knew you wanted us,” Nesta’s clear voice made it through the haze, your will to fight fading as she worked the toy harder, pressing up just as a large hand smoothed over your lower stomach. Stars exploded in your vision and you reached out grabbing at them both as you rode out your orgasm.

Above you, Cassian leaned over, cupping Nesta’s face and pulling her into him. They kissed with such passion you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Hazel and blue-grey eyes turned towards you, their gaze piercing, taking in your sweaty forehead, open mouth and pleading eyes.

Nesta ran a thumb over your lip. “Do you require some help, sweetheart?” Her voice was a tease, making you throb with need. You didn’t hesitate to nod. Her thumb was replaced with her tongue, teasing along the seam of your lips before dipping inside, claiming and tasting you. Cassian continued moving the toy slowly inside, the ripples of your orgasm still making you twitch.

Nesta’s lips were replaced with Cassian’s, his pressure harder, more insistent and you luxuriated in the feel of them moving around you, taking control of your body. Cassian slid the toy from you and the feeling of emptiness made you whine with need, grabbing at the two alphas.

“I knew you’d be wet for us,” Nesta hummed, and you opened your eyes in time to see her lick your arousal from the length of the toy. Her hand cupped you between your legs, fingers teasing. “Your pussy’s so wet you’ve soaked the sheets, I knew it.” Her grin was feral, like a cat after cornering a mouse.

“Let me taste.” Cassian brought Nesta’s fingers to his lips and sucked lewdly.

You were empty again and this time your whimper did not go unnoticed. “Does someone need their pussy filled?” Nesta pouted at you, her eyebrows raised.

“Yes, yes, please - I - please,” you begged, the fog of your heat taking over your ability to think. All you could see was them, all you could feel and all that you wanted.

Nesta turned you to face her, cradling your body into her chest. Instinctively, you licked at a rosy nipple, taking the bud into your mouth and sucking hard until Nesta gasped.

“Good girl,” she soothed, petting the back of your head, “You’ll need to bite down on something when he pushes in.” Her hand hooked your thigh up over her hip, opening you up and then you felt the blunt, wide head of Cassian’s cock nudging at your entrance and - she was right.

“Oh Gods,” you moaned, pushing your face further into Nesta’s chest, breath heaving as you adjusted to his size.

“You’re doing so well.” She stroked your back over the curve of your bottom and then back up with her nails, soothing then scratching in turn. The mixture of pleasure and pain was enough to confuse your already addled brain and, before you could register it, Cassian was flush against your back, panting in your ear.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you feel so good on my cock, so tight.” He kissed behind your ear, the gentle gesture so at odds with the rough cant of his hips. “We’ll fuck you through this heat, don’t worry.”

“I can- I can do it on my own,” You insisted meekly, meeting Nesta’s storm grey eyes.

“Of course you can.” She bent and kissed you gentle. “You’re doing so well, getting through this heat. It’s okay to ask for help. We’ll help you, won’t we, baby?”

“Of course we will,” Cassian grunted, his thrusts slow and steady but deep, so deep, so full.

When their eyes met, Nesta mirrored Cassian’s smile, knowing and understanding and teasing and Alpha. They’d take care of you, you knew they would, and you’d be satisfied and satiated by the end but you would be theirs, there would be no arguing your way out of this.

Your eyes rolled as Cassian hit a particularly delicious spot, sending shooting pleasure up your spine, “Gods, Cassian - I”

“Come for him,” Nesta instructed and you couldn’t stop yourself, your body obeyed before your mind could argue, pleasure washing over you so fast you had to dig your nails into Nesta’s arms to hold on, so sure you’d be pulled along by it.

You recovered slowly, floating in a daze of post coital bliss only to find yourself sat above Cassian, the general sprawled below you, his hair like a devilish halo on the white pillow cases and his handsome face contorted with pleasure. That deep ache was still inside, making you grind your clit down against him and it was then you realised he was still buried inside of you, his cock twitching with every movement of your hips.

“You look so pretty when you come for us.” He held your hips in his hands, keeping you seated despite your surprised attempt at getting up. “You can’t pretend anymore.”

Nesta’s hands joined Cassian’s, twining together to hold you down, her chin resting on your shoulder. How did she move like that, so silent and stealthy? “I know what you need now, you need to be fucked and filled, isn’t that right?”

You keened, leaning back into her arms, allowing her hands to travel up to your breasts and circle your nipples again.

“I said, isn’t that right?” Her hand moved over your collarbone, coming to rest at the base of your throat where her fingers pressed down on your pulse.

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes - I - I need to be -,” you stuttered, still reluctant to give in to the omega side of you that really did need this, needed to have their body used and filled and be given pleasure.

“Come on.” Cassian thrust up inside, his cock so deep you were sure you could see it in your belly.

“I need to be fucked and filled.”

“Good girl.” Nesta rewarded you with a kiss to your cheek. “Now for the last part, you need to be fucked and filled, by…”

“I need to be fucked and filled by my Alphas. Oh Gods, please, please, I need to move.” You ground your hips again and Cassian obliged, fucking up into you, his feet planted on the bed to keep him steady.

Behind you, Nesta moved again, her fingers tracing down your spine and the scent of lavender oil filling the room. Her hands cupped your bottom, helping to lift and lower you onto Cassian’s cock, controlling each movement. Cassian’s hands covered hers, spreading you open and pulling you forwards so you were completely exposed to Nesta’s hungry gaze.

“Such a pretty pussy.” She dipped her finger into the slick flowing over Cassian’s cock. You couldn’t stop the feel of it, dripping between you, easing the way for him. Her finger returned, circling the tight pucker of muscle Cassian’s exploring hands exposed. “Let’s see if we can fill you some more.”

The first press of her fingertip felt strange, but as she curled and worked her finger deeper pleasure spread up from your back. She was right, it felt so good to be full, a second finger joined her first, scissoring until the pressure was gone and only pleasure remained.

“Nesta - please,” you begged incoherently, unsure of what you even needed from her, chasing the feeling.

“Shhh, sweetheart.” Her fingers were replaced by the still body warm head of the crystal toy.

“Fuck, Nes, push it in harder.” Cassian gritted his teeth, his grip moving you lightly and then you both shouted in pleasure, the toy pushing against the thin wall separating it from his cock.

“So full, so full, so ful,-” you babbled, much to Nesta’s amusement, her dark laugh in your ear had you clenching around the hard cocks inside of you.

Cassian’s hand took over from Nesta’s keeping the toy inside and allowing you the freedom to grind down onto him again.

Free to move, Nesta appeared before you.

“There’s our little cock hungry omega, nice and full and satisfied.” She ran a finger around your open mouth before dipping it inside to tap your tongue. “Now you stay there,” she instructed, moving up the bed to hover over Cassian.

“Yes, Nes, you come here. Been working so hard to take care of our little omega, come and sit down.”

Cassian’s face vanished between Nesta’s thighs, the muscles tensing and relaxing as she lowered herself. You watched, fascinated, as her perfect face twisted with pleasure, the controlled look in her eyes and crooked smile gone. She closed her eyes, cupping her breasts, rolling her nipples as she’d done to yours. You ached to reach out and touch her, to lick the dusky bud again, to taste her and feel her, to run your fingers through her hair.

Your hand twitched forwards, grabbing her thigh and squeezing. Nesta moaned in return, her eyes shooting open and locking with you while she rolled her hips, taking her pleasure from her mate, using his mouth and tongue until she bit her bottom lip and tipped her head back, panting and moaning through her release.

She fell backwards onto the bed, resting her head on her arm and continuing to gently circle her nipple, riding the waves of her orgasm.

You watched, catching Cassian’s eyes as he too turned to view his mate, her legs spread and wet pussy glistening in the candle light. With a tap to your hip, you reached up, releasing his cock with an obscene squelch, but you had no ability to be humiliated by your position, half full of her toy, crawling towards her as if possessed. Your own legs were so wet they slid as you moved and Cassian took the opportunity to nip at your thigh as you made your way to Nesta.

She was smiling, long lashes fluttering on her cheeks as she rested, but she must have felt you approaching because she beckoned you on, cupping the back of your head and pulling you down for a sloppy kiss.

Her long fingers gathered your slick, smearing it over your folds, your clit, back towards where the toy still split you open, and cupped your cheeks, parting them for Cassian.

The male was behind you again and gave the toy a few experimental thrusts, revelling in the way you whimpered and moaned, depending on how he angled the head. You could practically feel his grin when he pressed a kiss to the base of your spine, nipping at the round globe of your ass and pulling the toy free, leaving it to roll off the bed onto the thick rug.

You whined, completely empty and still needy, humping forwards into Nesta’s teasing hand, her kisses just as biting, just as harsh, sucking your bottom lip between her teeth and worrying the delicate flesh.

Cassian’s voice was gravelly when he whispered in your ear, “Ask us nicely, omega. Ask us to fill your wet little cunt and your greedy hole.”

“Please, please, fill me, please, fuck me!” you panted, hips moving of their own accord, seeking any friction they could find.

Nesta cupped your cheek. “Open your eyes.” You obliged, meeting her own lust filled gaze. “Now beg.”

You cried out in frustration, “Please, Alpha, please I need it, I need you, I can’t do it - help me - please - help me. Fuck me, please, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me-” You dropped your forehead to hers, pleading, praying.

Then, you felt Cassian’s cock again, not parting your folds as he’d done before, but running it between your cheeks and pressing against the gap left by the crystal toy.

“You want me to fuck you?” he asked again.

“Yes, Alpha, fuck me, take me, please, I need your cock - I need - ahh.” The first push was long and deep, he was merciless, splitting you open.

“Gods, you feel good everywhere, ‘mega.” Cassian’s kisses returned, wet and hot along your shoulders. “Nesta -,” he grunted and the female slid her hand back between your legs, shoving three fingers into your already sloppy pussy without hesitation.

“Look how well you take us, sweetheart. Letting your Alphas use all of your holes like a good little omega. Just a hole for us to fuck aren’t you?” she cooed, pinching your cheeks again. “Cassian’s been dying to fuck me like this for years, haven’t you?” He only grunted in answer, his pace increasing. You could barely breathe now, every inhale punched out of you by the force of his fucking. “But I wouldn’t let him. Good job we’ve got our own little plaything now. You take him so well, made for it, aren’t you?” she continued to tease and you burned with the humiliation of it, the deliciously dirty feeling of being spread open, used, vulnerable under their hands. And yet you had never felt pleasure like it, the complete surrender of your thoughts, your body, to your two Alphas.

The thought had you tingling. Were they yours now? Were you theirs?

Cassian’s pace slowed, his hips faltering as he hurtled towards his release. His long hair brushed against your cheek. “Never letting you go, omega. You’re ours now.” His teeth scrapped down the side of your neck and you shivered, making the decision in a split second, and tilting your head to the side. Cassian’s bite was strong, his teeth breaking your skin quickly before his tongue lapped over the sore spot. He nuzzled into you as he sucked the bruising kiss, inhaling your scent.

Nesta reached up, guiding your head towards Cassian’s and exposing the other side of your throat before biting down too. Her claim was rougher, her teeth tasting, exploring before biting down and sucking.

“Yours - yours - yours -” You allowed their claiming bites to consume you, to wash over your senses, and felt the calm of being mated rising to meet you, buoying you up.

“Good little omega,” Nesta praised, tapping your cheek until you opened your eyes. Hers were surprisingly soft, her mouth wet and lips pink.

“Such a good - fuck - good fucking omega, our omega,” Cassian grunted, sending you over the edge.

“Yours - yours - yours -” Your orgasm ran towards you and you clenched down on them both, forcing Nesta’s fingers out as your walls rippled. You bent and sucked on her collarbone, needing something, anything, to ground you.

“Fuck -” Cassian followed, his hips driving forward, pushing you down further into Nesta’s chest and painting you with his release. His cock swelled, impossibly large and pressing against your entrance. His cum leaked around the edges of his knot, mixing with your own release in a sticky, claiming, mess. There’d be no denying your feelings now.

He withdrew slowly, carefully, his hand cupping your swollen sex as he did and the gentleness of the touch surprised you.

The three of you lay there, panting and sweating, slick soaked and satisfied until Cassian broke the silence.

“Does this mean you’ll sleep in the damn bed now?” You turned into his chest, resting your face against his tattoos, and laughed, nodding. Behind you, Nesta curled over your back and smiled into your shoulder.

“Good.”

545 notes · View notes

sweetdreams1994 · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 8: Game Start

Summary

As a hardworking trainee, you’ve spent years pushing yourself to debut. When the final evaluation comes, you’re chosen as the sole candidate—but what you don’t realize is that your fate was already sealed. BTS, the seven men you idolized, manipulated everything to make sure you were theirs.

At first, their attention feels like a blessing to aid you as a trainee. Then, it becomes suffocating. Their possessiveness turns them against each other, each one willing to destroy the others just to have you alone.

⚠️ Content Warnings: ⚠️

Intense competition & high pressure, verbal & emotional manipulation, psychological stress & anxiety, favoritism & corruption, Strong language, detailed smut, y/n is 18+, drugging

The room was filled with flashing lights, the hum of quiet conversations, and the occasional click of a camera shutter. The aftermath of your debut was a whirlwind of emotions and media attention, and now, sitting before a panel of reporters, you were expected to maintain your composure under the scrutiny of the public eye.

The three senior members and leader sat around you, forming some protection. Yoongi was to your right, his expression unreadable, his fingers tapping lightly against the armrest of his chair. Hoseok sat to your left, his body angled slightly toward you, an ever-present smile on his lips, though his eyes told a different story. Jin and Namjoon were placed next to Yoongi and Hoseok , making sure you were comforted within their presence. Safe. The world might not have noticed, but you did.

The interviewer, a polished woman with sharp eyes, offered a practiced smile. "First of all, congratulations on your debut! It was a breathtaking performance. How does it feel to finally step onto the stage after so much preparation?"

You swallowed, willing your voice to remain steady. "Thank you. It still feels surreal, honestly. I’ve worked so hard for this moment, and being able to finally share it with everyone means everything to me."

Namjoon, ever the leader, nodded beside you. "She’s incredibly dedicated. We’ve all watched her grow into the performer she is today, and we couldn’t be prouder."

The interviewer turned her attention to Yoongi. "I noticed you were watching the performance very intently. As someone known for your sharp critique, how would you say she did?"

Yoongi’s lips quirked up, but his eyes remained calculating. "She was mesmerizing. Every moment on that stage belonged to her. She’s not just a performer; she owns the music, feels it in a way that draws you in. That’s not something you can teach."

The air around you shifted, thickened. The weight of his words settled over you like a brand, and for a second, you found yourself lost in his unwavering gaze. There was something possessive in his tone, something that told you his praise wasn’t just for the public—it was a reminder.

The interviewer chuckled. "High praise from you, Yoongi-ssi. It’s clear you all have a strong bond with her. I imagine training together must have built a deep connection. How has your mentorship been? Anyone taken the lead in creating the wonderful star we see infront of us?"

Yoongi’s fingers tapped lazily against his knee, but his eyes were sharp as he listened.

The interviewer smiled. “It’s clear you all have a strong bond with Y/N. Who would you say took the lead in mentoring her?”

Hoseok didn’t hesitate. “That’d be me,” he said smoothly, shooting you a knowing look. “We spent weeks together, perfecting her performance. Every move, every detail—I made sure she was ready.”

Yoongi let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah? And who do you think kept her from falling apart after those practices?” His voice was casual, but the edge in it was unmistakable.

Hoseok’s smirk faltered for just a second. “Training can be tough. We all helped.”

Yoongi leaned forward slightly, gaze dark. “Some of us more than others.”

The air grew thick, and the interviewer glanced between them, sensing the tension. But before it could escalate, Namjoon spoke, voice calm but firm. “We all played a role. She put in the work, and we supported her—that’s what matters.”

Hoseok’s hand briefly brushed against your knee, so subtle it could have been mistaken for an accident. "She’s family to us," he said smoothly, though you caught the slight edge in his voice. "We’ve made sure she’s always supported, both on and off stage."

The word 'family' sent an unexplainable shiver down your spine. It should have been comforting. Instead, it felt more like a declaration of ownership for some reason.

The interviewer nodded before flipping to a new card. "There have been some whispers about potential solo projects down the line. Is that something you're considering?"

Your lips parted, but before you could answer, Namjoon spoke. "Right now, she’s focusing on growing within the group. We believe in taking things step by step." His words were carefully chosen, his voice even, but when his eyes met yours, there was something else there. A silent warning.

They weren’t going to let you go that easily.

The interview continued, polite questions met with equally measured responses. But beneath the surface, there was an unspoken tension. A silent war between the members for something unnameable. You could feel it in the way Yoongi’s gaze lingered on you, in the way Hoseok’s hand remained just a little too close, in the way Namjoon took control of the narrative before you could speak for yourself.

Then came the real twist.

A reporter toward the back suddenly cleared his throat, pushing his glasses up his nose. "There’s been a lot of speculation about a certain senior-junior relationship within the company. Some have noticed a particular closeness between you and—"

Before he could finish, Jin let out a laugh, effortlessly shifting the mood. "She’s close with all of us. We’re like a family. Isn’t that right?"

The moment was expertly diffused, but you felt the shift, the ripple of tension that passed between them. The way Yoongi’s fingers curled into a loose fist. The way Hoseok sat just a little straighter. The way Namjoon exhaled slowly, as if reigning in something unseen.

The interview wrapped up shortly after, but the energy in the room remained charged. As you stood to leave, Yoongi’s hand found your wrist, stopping you just as the others moved ahead. His voice was quiet, almost too soft.

"Be careful what you say next time."

You blinked up at him, searching his face. "What—"

His fingers tightened just slightly before he let go. "Just be careful."

From across the room, Hoseok was watching. And when you met his gaze, you knew—you weren’t the only one Yoongi was warning.

Something had shifted between them, between all of you. The performance was over, but the real show was only just beginning.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had been late one night, long after practice had ended. Most of the members had already gone to their rooms, but he had found you in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge with tired eyes and a furrowed brow.

“You know, most people sleep at night,” he had teased, leaning against the counter with that easy smirk of his.

You had glanced up, unimpressed. “Most people don’t have a schedule designed to kill them.”

He had laughed at that, genuinely amused. “Fair point. What are you looking for?”

You sighed, shutting the fridge with a little more force than necessary. “Something edible. But apparently, there’s nothing.”

Jin had tsked, stepping forward. “That’s because you don’t know where to look. Step aside, rookie.”

You had raised a brow but moved back, watching as he skillfully gathered ingredients with the ease of someone who had done this a thousand times. Within minutes, he had a pan sizzling on the stove, the rich aroma of garlic and butter filling the space.

“I can handle myself, you know,” you had said, crossing your arms as you leaned against the counter. “I don’t need someone cooking for me.”

Jin had glanced at you, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh, I know. But I also know you’ve been running on nothing but caffeine and stubbornness all day, and if you collapse, the company will probably blame me for not feeding you.”

You had scoffed but didn’t argue, which he had taken as a small victory.

As he cooked, you had stayed close, your usual guarded demeanor softening just a little. You had watched him, curiosity flickering in your eyes, and for a moment, he had thought—maybe—this was it. The moment you would finally let your walls down, finally look at him the way he wanted you to.

But then, the moment had shattered.

Just as he had placed the plate in front of you, the door had creaked open, and Yoongi had walked in. His sharp eyes had flickered between the two of you, his expression unreadable, but the weight of his presence had been enough.

You had stiffened almost immediately, your attention shifting from Jin to Yoongi like it was instinct. And just like that, whatever progress Jin had made had slipped through his fingers.

Yoongi had said nothing. Hadn’t needed to.

He had simply looked at you, and you had followed—offering Jin nothing more than a quiet, “Thanks,” before leaving your half-eaten meal behind and walking out with him.

Jin had stood there, staring at the untouched food, annoyance curling in his chest.

That night, he had realized something crucial.

You weren’t just playing hard to get.

You were already being pulled in a thousand different directions, your mind tangled in the web they had spun around you.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The current night was quiet, save for the occasional hum of a passing car outside the dorm. The rest of the members were scattered—Yoongi was in his studio, Hoseok had disappeared somewhere after practice, and Namjoon was likely buried in some book, deep in thought.

Jin, however, had spent the past hour watching. Observing.

You had retreated to your room after the interview, exhaustion evident in the way you barely spoke on the ride back. The day had been draining—being paraded in front of the cameras, answering questions designed to spark rumors, dealing with the ever-watchful eyes of the boys who seemed to think you belonged to them.

Jin chuckled to himself. That was their mistake.

They hovered over you, suffocating you with their presence, thinking it would make you fold. Yoongi with his silent intensity. Hoseok with his suffocating control. Namjoon with his calculated dominance. Even Taehyung and Jimin, playful as they seemed, were watching, waiting.

It was pathetic, really.

They thought brute force would be enough to claim you. But you weren’t some naive girl, dazzled by attention. No, you were smarter than that. Stronger. That’s why his usual tricks hadn’t worked on you.

And yet… he knew you could be won.

It just required a different approach.

Jin had stayed in the background for a reason. He wasn’t like the others, driven purely by impulse and desire. He knew how to wait. How to strategize. How to make sure that when he moved, the victory was absolute.

He had tested the waters before, back in the kitchen with YN, hinting at his plans, gauging how you reacted to charm. It hadn’t been enough he quickly realized. So now, he would do what he did best.

He would play the long game.

You needed an escape from them, from the weight of their obsession. And he would be that escape. He wouldn’t rush. Wouldn’t overwhelm. He would be patient. Steady. The one you turned to when the rest became too much.

And when you did—when you finally let him in—he would make sure there was no way out.

Jin smirked as he pushed off the kitchen counter, finally heading toward his room. The others could fight over you all they wanted. They could hover, stalk, suffocate.

But in the end, it would be him you ran to.

And once he had you, he wouldn’t let go.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning after the interview, the media frenzy had exploded, and the headlines only deepened the cracks forming between the members. The articles and social media posts flooded in, each one more explosive than the last. Your debut was now surrounded by rumors, speculation, and a growing divide among the members.

One of the articles that caught your attention was titled “BTS's New Star: Mentorship or Rivalry?” It analyzed the tension between Yoongi and Hoseok, focusing on their differing approaches to your mentorship during the interview. They’d both declared themselves as instrumental in your success, but it was the undercurrent of rivalry that the media fixated on. The article suggested that their close bond with you wasn’t just about guiding you to success, but about something far more personal.

"Yoongi, who is known for his stoic nature and sharp critiques, seemed to imply that he had been the one to truly guide the rookie, while Hoseok, ever the optimist, declared himself the one who had prepared her for the spotlight. Their conflicting claims have led fans to question whether there is more to their mentorship than meets the eye."

It wasn’t just the words that hurt, but the images that accompanied the article: pictures of the two of them exchanging heated glances, the tension palpable. The implication was that this wasn’t just about your talent—it was about ownership. And beneath it all, the question lingered: Who did you belong to?

The articles speculated wildly. Some even hinted at a romantic relationship, suggesting that Yoongi’s intense gaze during the interview and Hoseok’s more overt attempts to gain your attention could be signs of competition, not just for your attention, but for something more. But none of the articles truly understood what was happening. None of them understood the jealousy, the possessiveness, the claim each of them had already staked on you.

As the articles snowballed, the fans’ reactions grew even more extreme. The pressure mounted. You received death threats on your social media accounts, your inbox filled with vile messages. “Stay away from them, you don’t deserve Yoongi!”“Hoseok has been nothing but kind to you. Yoongi doesn’t care about you, he’s just using you!”

The fans were clearly divided, some of them already picking sides based on the media portrayal. It was suffocating, and you found yourself retreating to your room to escape it all.

That evening, the members gathered for a meeting in the living room, the atmosphere tense. Namjoon was the first to speak, his voice steady but filled with concern. “We need to address this. It’s getting out of hand. The media’s twisted everything, and it’s putting Y/N in a really difficult position.”

Yoongi was the one who responded first, but his tone was colder than usual. “I’m not mad about the articles,” he said flatly. “They don’t matter. What matters is that no one sees the truth.” His gaze locked onto Hoseok. “The truth is, I’ve been the one to guide her. I’ve been the one who’s been there for her when things got hard.”

Hoseok bristled at Yoongi’s words, his normally cheerful expression replaced with a flash of irritation. “That’s rich, Yoongi. You act like you’re the only one who’s had a hand in her development. She’s not some doll you can claim as yours.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed, his voice laced with frustration. “I never claimed she was a doll. But you don’t get it, do you? She’s mine. She’s mine in a way that you’ll never understand.” His words were sharp, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone.

Hoseok’s jaw clenched. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve been by her side from the start. I’ve helped her build herself into who she is. You’ve been too busy trying to control everything, making her into some kind of puppet.”

Yoongi didn’t flinch, but his anger simmered beneath the surface. “I’m not controlling her. I’m making her into someone who can stand on her own. But she wouldn’t have made it this far if I hadn’t been there—if I hadn’t shown her what it meant to truly own her power.”

Namjoon intervened, his voice calm but firm. “Both of you need to stop. Fighting like this only makes things worse. The last thing Y/N needs is for you to act like children over who’s been a better mentor.”

Yoongi ignored him, his gaze still locked on Hoseok. “She’s mine. You don’t get to act like you’ve had more of an influence. I’ve shaped her. I’ve made her feel what she needs to feel. I’ve been there when she broke, when she needed someone to pick up the pieces. You don’t even see it. You’re too busy trying to make yourself look good.”

Hoseok shot to his feet, his frustration boiling over. “You think I haven’t been there for her? You think I haven’t helped her through her struggles?” His voice raised, and there was a dangerous intensity in his eyes now. “I’ve made sure she feels safe. That she doesn’t feel like she’s drowning under the pressure. And if you want to pretend I haven’t had a hand in that, then fine.”

Namjoon stepped in again, this time with more force. “Enough.” He looked between Yoongi and Hoseok, trying to keep control of the room. “We’re not doing this right now. We need to stop pretending this is about who did what. This is about Y/N. We need to fix this before the press tears us apart.”

Yoongi’s expression softened, but his eyes still held an intensity that made Hoseok falter for a moment. “She doesn’t belong to anyone but me,” Yoongi said, his voice low and dangerous, as if it were a statement that was both an ultimatum and a promise.

Hoseok didn’t respond immediately, his fists clenched. He wasn’t about to back down. Not now.

The room fell into silence, the tension palpable. No one spoke for a moment, each member lost in their own thoughts. It was clear that things had shifted, and there was no going back. The feud wasn’t just about mentorship anymore—it was about control, about who would get to claim you fully.

And as they sat there, the truth hung heavy in the air: the real battle wasn’t just over who would guide you, but who would ultimately have you for themselves.

Taglist:

@misbangtan @knjkitten @mystica1whore @mageprincess7 @illnevertrustmyselfagain @princess-angele333

#bts fanfic #bts x reader #jimin x reader #jungkook x reader #namjoon x reader #taehyung x reader #bts ot7 #idol au #yoongi x reader #bts #yandere bts x reader #hoseok x reader #jin x reader #jungkook

77 notes · View notes