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ghostedgwen · 2 months ago

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but I knew you | j.potter [part three]

note : Thank you all so much for the love and support on the two previous parts! I am still trying to get back into writing and getting my old style back but it is still a work in progress. Really happy you lots enjoyed them and are asking to even be tagged in the next parts!

warning : more angst but some cute moment as well, Remus is an mvp on this one I love him, mentions of blood and injury, violence, there's a nasty fist fight, a brief moment of a man being a man and some misogyny.

James gets into an accident during a Quidditch game and develop amnesia - he doesn't remember the past 2 and a half years, and he currently has the mentality of fourth-year James. This doesn't bode well for you that your boyfriend of 2 years now currently thinks he's still in love with Lily.

└——————— - [ 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : 𝚃𝚊𝚢𝚕𝚘𝚛 𝚂𝚠𝚒𝚏𝚝 - 𝙲𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚗 ]. +

It's been weird. Actually, that's an understatement. It has been absolute hell ever since that Quidditch accident, no one knew how to act around either you and James.

By now, the whole school knew and with how the school is quick to absorb gossip like greedy sponges, it was quick to be the topic of every conversation.

Girls would throw pitiful looks your way, and it grated your nerves to receive them. You didn't need their pity, not even one bit.

"I don't know how much more of this I can take," you groan into your hands, pressed into your closed eyes. "This fucking sucks."

Remus gives you a tight-lipped smile that might as well be empty. "How about retracing your steps?"

You frown, taking your palms off your face and turning to Remus who began putting his book down.

"I'll talk to him, I'll convince him to practise with you."

"Practise what?"

"Remembering. You should know the core memories you two have made throughout your relationship, just recreate those moments with him," Remus shrugged. "Might work."

"It might not." You shake your head, giving up hope before it could even exist.

Remus makes a face at you. "This is so not you, you're not a quitter, ____."

A pregnant pause.

You heave a sigh. "Okay," you give in. "Bloody hell."

You watch as James casually approach you. Same mannerisms and all that but he feels unbelievably strange, you almost didn't recognize him with how he regarded you so casually. Curtly nodding and crossing his arms.

"Moony convinced me to humor this," he huffs. "Where are we off to?"

You bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to go through with this despite not wanting to do this. This was the only solution that made somewhat sense, and it was ultimately better than waiting it out while you try to act like the problem did not exist.

You click your tongue. "Where you first fell for me," you answered. "In your own words, of course. A bit cheesy for me, in all honesty."

He chuckles at that and you gesture him to follow you which he did. He walks beside you, not too far but also not close enough. You have to constantly remind yourself that it's not his fault. If he had met your James, he would've been pissed at himself right this very moment.

You didn't mind the distance much and continued your strides to the spot. You both pause, he looks around the empty hall with a frown.

"Sirius said he'd make sure the hall was clear for us." You tell him.

How he made it happen doesn't matter to you, but you had a few guesses. No time to dwell on that when he turned to look at you expectantly. You scan him, before speaking again.

"What do you feel when you look at me?"

"Honestly?" he licks his bottom lip with hesitation. "Nothing."

Wow, ouch. Okay.

You were about to speak again when he continued - "At first, because I really don't know you. . .but the more I look, the longer I stare at you - I have this urge to hold you."

That brought a small smile out of you. "Seems my James is still in there somewhere."

He didn't react to that, pretending he didn't feel a clutch in his heart at that. You shake your head, forcing the smile away and turned to the very spot you two stood on that day.

"Muggles science did say that love is in the head, not exactly the heart," you tell him with a bitter chuckle. "I guess you don't abide by that law. You still feel for me, despite not knowing me. I just badly need you back."

You can only imagine how much harder this is on him. While it absolutely hurt to be forgotten by your lover, you can empathize with his situation. How confused he must be to be a 14-year-old in the body of a 16-year-old James.

"How does it feel?" You ask him.

"Weird," he answered truthfully. "I feel weird. Like every inch of my body is on fire but it doesn't hurt. Uncomfortably warm."

You cannot even begin to image what that feels like. "I'm sorry, by the way. I have been too focused on the fact you forgot about me to even realize you lost a whole lot more than that."

He blinks. Your voice was comforting, and your words were kind. He still does not know how he pulled away from Lily, but he can see the appeal of why he fell for you. Your words, how you carried yourself and that confidence that oozed out of your every action without trying hard.

"I'm sorry too." was all he said.

You cleared your throat. "This is where I slapped you, by the way." You laugh humourlessly at your own words. "You had the absolute audacity to imply that you'd buy me, what a right git you were."

You look at him and see him blink in confusion, "What's your last memory before waking up in the infirmary?"

He gives you a huff, dropping his shoulder and walking to the wall with a wide open window. He sat there, leaning against the stone wall with his head hanging low. "I remember just returning to Hogwarts, I had asked Li- Evans out again during the welcome dinner, got rejected again - and I went to bed after arm wrestling with Pads."

You followed him, sitting across him while listening attentively. "Then I woke up, and here I am."

A moment of silence passed, you just watched him. You can see the gears turning in his head, a faraway look in his eyes as he gets lost in his thoughts. "It must be extremely hard for you too."

James nod. "It is, because I can see that I'm hurting you - and the lads, but I can't force it out of me. I feel a bit unwanted."

You scoot closer, hesitantly putting a hand on his shoulder. "That's not true, we're all just struggling as well. You don't know it yet, but Sirius - he could never unwant you, you two are basically soulmates and I am the thirdwheel."

"Does something happen? To him?"

You nod when he lifts his head to look at you. "Yes, but that's not until you both are 15."

"When do you come in?"

You smile bitterly. "Today. The second day during our fourth year, I enter the story."

James' jaw dropped. "I remember everything - until exactly the day I meet you?"

You laugh humourlessly, nodding to his words. "What a cruel joke."

"How's it been?" Remus asked, settling beside you on the couch. You had a book propped on your lap and was getting lost in the words when he pulled you out and grounded you back to reality. "You've been at it for a week. What timeline are you in now?"

"Just about finishing up fifth year," you answer him casually. "He's compliant, and behaved. Would you believe that? He's behaved, around me."

Remus laughs. "That's good at least, he's willing to try."

"He said he felt unwanted by us," you tell him, watching his jaw drop. "We got too busy minding the fact he forgot."

"Merlin - " Remus runs a hand through his hair. "Bloody hell."

"He's 14, right now and he must feel so scared to be in this familiar - yet strange environment he has ended up in. I didn't wanna tell you, he confided in me but I can see how he's been struggling throughout the week. He needs his brothers too, not just me."

Remus slowly nod along your words. "You're right. We thought to give you some space. Pads is still in shock and Peter is just depressed at this point."

You heave a sigh. "We'll get him back, no worries."

"____!" You turn to the voice that called you, you spy a familiar boy clad in black and yellow uniform run up to you. He had on a bright grin as he greeted you, a bookbag hanging off his shoulder. "Glad I finally caught up to you."

You frown at him. "You've been looking for me, McLaggen?"

"Yes," he nods and gestures to you. "But you've been with Potter this whole week."

You blink in confusion. "Of course I will, he's my boyfriend." You answer him bluntly, but he only shrugged at that with a tilt of his head.

"Whole castle knows by now that he's forgotten 'bout you, I thought you two had broken up."

You felt an eye twitch at that. "Nevermind that, why were you looking for me."

"Was hoping I could ask you to be my study partner, for the upcoming Ancient Runes quiz. You are pretty much a genius at it, wouldn't hurt to be tutored by you."

You cross your arm. He's never once had the courage to approach you before ever since James took an interest in you. He introduced himself so confidently when you transferred and even offered to show you around the castle - that was until James entered the picture and everyone steered clear.

No one wants to mess with the Marauders.

"Why would I do that for you?" You ask, having nothing to gain from his proposal whatsoever. He's demanding you help him study in a subject you excel in without even offering anything in return.

McLaggen flashes you a bright grin. "I'll treat you on a date on the next Hogsmeade trip."

You scoff at his words. "A date? You think I'd accept tutoring you for a bloody date? I'm taken, in case you forgot."

He laughs. "Your boyfriend doesn't even remember you, babe. I'm your next best bet, he's technically just a little boy right now, yeah? What age is he mentally? 12?"

"He lost two years, he's 14, you dumbass." You corrected him.

He shrugged. "Don't matter now, does it? He's just a little boy right now, you'll do well with a man."

You hold back a laugh at his words. "You think you're a man then?" You step back, providing more space between you and not once did his height intimidate you throughout the exchange as he address you while looking down. "You are a pig. Take your offer elsewhere, you disgust me."

"____-" he grabs your arm as you turn to leave but another voice also called out your name.

"____!" You turn to find James fast approaching, the rest of his gang trailing after him. "What's going on here?"

You tug at your arm and he finally released it. You fix your posture and glare at McLaggen, "We were just talking." you tell him and can see the anger bubbling in him with the expression on his face.

You turn to meet Sirius' eyes and gesture to James, he acted fast, grabbing him by the arm. "Calm down, mate. She said they were just talking."

"Didn't look like talking to me." James spat.

McLaggen stepped back, raising both hands in surrender. "My bad, mate. You don't even remember ____ anymore, the least you could do is let someone else have her."

You felt your jaw drop at his words, talking about you like you were an item to posses and freely give awya - like you had no say in the matter and you couldn't even process a reaction to his vile words when James swung for his face.

His fist colliding with McLaggen's face and he drops to the ground on the impact. He would have jumped on him as well if Sirius didn't pull him back with Remus who were desperately trying to calm him down.

"The fuck?" McLaggen hissed, clutchinng his now bruised cheek in disbelief. "Fuckin' hell!"

You turn to James, and it all happened so fast. The two boys lost grip on him and he slipped out - jumping on McLaggen to throw more punches but this time, the other boy got to react and returned the favor.

The two exchanged blows while the other three boys tried their best to pull them apart, you were only grateful that the halls are empty or this would be another spectacle for the whole castle.

You run to them, figuring that the three boys' attempts were not working - but it was too late. McLaggen pulled something out of the bookbag he carried - an ink bottle? And smacked James right across the head with it.

"Prongs?" Sirius called out to James who dropped after the hit, McLaggen appeared shocked at the result of his actions. He threw away the bottle and scrambled to get up.

"James!" You called out and dropped to his side, Merlin - he's out. He's breathing but he is out. The hit must have gotten him good. You angrily turn to see McLaggen running away from the scene. You can deal with him later, you turned your focus to the passed out James. "Bloody fuck, not again."

to be continued . . .

part four | masterlist

#james potter #james potter x reader #marauders x reader #james potter imagine #marauder imagine

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savanir · 1 year ago

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DP x DC prompt [3]

during one of the final psych evals at Arkham right before he gets to be released, the whole thing wrapped up so tidy, just a little relapse which involved a robbery. Getting sent back to Arkham, but he got to stay at the asylum so long that he no longer has to serve a prison sentence, score!

But during that eval his overseeing psychiatrist recommended him to have a change of scenery, some fresh non polluted air.

Riddler was rather convinced the guy was making this recommendation to everyone in Arkham in their own weird way to convince them to just leave Gotham and become someone else's problem. should he notify Batman about it somehow? nah, it’ll be more interesting to see how this is gonna turn out in the long run.

But can he leave the state? Can he even leave the city? he never really bothered to look into it, at least not legally, up until now if he felt he needed to leave for one of his plans he just did it.

Turns out he can, it’s a whole hassle and a half though, first a judge and then a probation officer and he’s pretty sure both were like “what the hell is this psychiatrist guy thinking!?” but at the same time, shrink probably knows what he’s doing (WRONG) so he’s allowed to go visit out of state family or whatever.

he had to wear this nice ankle monitor though, Wayne Enterprises™ tech, not overly bulky but still very present. real fancy, and a fun extra challenge heh.

now as for a good reason to leave New Jersey he’s going to need distant relatives, and he finds some, great grandpa walker also has a son, who had a son who had a daughter Madeline, who married some guy Jack Fenton, and she lives somewhere out in the boonies Illinois. great he’ll visit her.

far enough away in all sense of the word that there is no way she knows anything about him. it would be best to call her first though, be polite about it.

“hello, you have reached Fenton works, this is Maddie speaking”

“Riddle me this-” ah whoops, habit, oh whatever, “we don’t share parents, but certainly a part of your life, from laughter to strife. Who am I?”

there is a pause … he’s going to be a bit disappointed if she hangs up if he’s honest.

“cousins~” comes the cheery reply.

“correct! the name is Edward Nygma, we are distantly related you and I and well-”

“oh you simply must come visit!”

well this was rather easy, perhaps a little too easy, but she lives in the midwest so maybe just going with whatever some guy says over the phone is normal there? stranger danger not really a thing in a small town where everyone knows everyone?

things start to make a little more sense once he gets there and he’s starting to think some things might run in the family. like a preference for the colour green and weird hyperfixations and genius bordering on insanity. Though that remains to be seen, Jack does not seem like a very bright light after his very enthusiastic welcome.

their kids however are observant and sharp. young Jasmine is wasting no time trying to psychoanalyze him. and the boy, Danny, he had not really meant to and he swears he’s sticking with calling the kid Danny so he wouldn’t seem overly familiar, but he might have called him little bird a couple times now.

but that’s all whatever, he’s playing nice here. and he doesn’t even have to worry about his eccentricities tripping him up because this place is insane.

There actually is a local teen vigilante active but he seems about as loved as he’s disliked. and the ghost boy’s enemies are basically all his own kind, which another crazy thing to now know about. ghost. they are real actually, how is Gotham not completely overrun? and how do they even work? and where do they keep coming from?

Edward might be getting a little sidetracked here. He had fully intended to sneakily get his next big game plan underway all the way out here, ankle monitor be damned. but he hasn’t made any progress at all.

Instead he’s been listening to Madeline and Jack to maybe figure out what the deal is with these ectoplasmic entities, he has to know, at this point he might go crazier if he doesn’t.

He’s making Jasmine promise him not to get her doctorate in Gotham, he’s going back and forth with space riddles with Danny.

so yeah the whole thing kinda just became a vacation, maybe the psychiatrist had the right idea after all? hmm nah, probably not. but this is fun. He’s thinking about recommending this place to some of the others.

It's different enough to get the vacation feel, but enough crazy shit happens to make it all feel like home.

it is not until Maddie wants to talk with him about potentially switching the position of godfather of Danny to him rather than some weird rich friend of theirs that Edward realizes he might have lost the plot somewhere

Apparently the little bird basically begged them with a powerpoint presentation on how he likes Edward so much more than that Vladimir guy.

And honestly, the fellow sounds like a Dracula Lutho so even if it’s kinda sad Edward can understand why he’d be considered a better option. Even if the guy has more money and a huge company that makes him said money. And it’s not like the Fentons know about his Riddler activities.

Thinking it over, Edward does think that Danny would like Gotham and Wayne has that space program thing right? The kid is definitely smart enough for that (Nygma certified), and yeah Edward does quite like their space themed back and forth. So, fuck it, why not, what is the worst that could happen?

He doubts Maddie and Jack are gonna kick it any time soon anyway out here in the boonies, it’s just a title thing, a stamp of approval or something.

he should have known he was going to eat those words later… he had this whole beautifully elaborate trap set up for the whole Batclan, and he was just getting to the good part when his phone went off.

Had to put the whole thing on pause cause that particular contact wasn’t gonna get ignored. He did promise to be available.

If the whole thing he had planned now went tits up he could at the very least laugh later at the reactions of the bats as he told them to “hold up one second, I have to take this.” while they were all in various perilous positions.

Sadly he did have to go, he had a very distressed godson to pick up.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny fenton #The Riddler #jasmine fenton #madeline fenton #jack fenton #edward nygma #Story idea #it took me annoyingly long to figure out how to add a read more line btw #I was going to add some other things as well but I didn't want it to get super long #I imagine Vlad was absolutely furious about losing his godfather status #but our boy Eddie just runs circles around him and humiliates him every step of the way #there is only one vampire themed guy that can put the Riddler in his place and you ain't it chief #also I was planning on adding a thing where Edward ends up in the ghost zone somehow #which makes his ankle monitor go off #notifying the bats #because he either somehow managed to destroy the thing in an instant without making any of the build in warnings go off #or he's no longer on the planet

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fleurstruck · 3 months ago

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"babe, look," you call for his attention, raising your own screen up to him. "i'm also a gamer!" you exclaim with pride, holding back a laugh with how his face suddenly sours at the sight of a 3d man on your tablet screen. seungcheol takes off his headphones letting them rest around his neck after exiting his game.

"babe… who's that?" he asks, reaching for your device. you quickly snatch it away before it gets in his grasp.

"my fictional boyfriend," you reply, smug as you go back to choosing the character's outfit. "his name is sylus."

"why do you need a fictional boyfriend—" seungcheol huffs. he takes up the seat next to you, snuggling close as he watches the movement on your screen— "when you have a real one right next to you?"

you could no longer hold back your laughter, pausing your game to not affect your progress. "are you jealous over a man who's very much not real?"

his denial comes swift but you could tell, by the pink tinge of his cheeks and the way his eyes squint into a glare at your tablet, that he was very much jealous. you chuckle softly, turning your tablet off and setting it on your other side so you could cuddle up to him. you press a quick kiss to his cheek to placate him.

he preens under the attention, holding you even closer, the pout you'd fallen in love with present on his face. "he's not gonna take me away from you, ever."

#❀ eishi's petals #seventeen #svt #seventeen fanfic #svt fanfic #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #s.coups fanfic #s.coups x reader #s.coups fluff #s.coups imagines #choi seungcheol #s.coups

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wordsofwhimsy · 25 days ago

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⏱︎ 𝙊𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚 ⏱︎

Pairing: Main!Mark Grayson x fem best friend!Reader

Warnings: None

Tags: Friends to lovers, Mark’s spittin mad game, fluff, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1,822

Synopsis: Mark comforts you after being stood up on a date.

a/n: i have it listed as a fem reader but i really did try to keep this more gender neutral!! i also have an idea for a 2nd part to this but idk i might just make that it’s own separate thing. we shall see

You used to joke that Mark Grayson was like gravity. Always nearby, always familiar. Something you didn’t have to think about.

He was your best friend.

The kind of best friend who sat on the floor of your bedroom, eating Hot Cheetos and watching you panic over homework. The kind who’d text you stupid memes at 3 a.m. just to make you laugh. The kind who, every now and then, looked at you like he wanted something more.

And before everything changed, maybe you would’ve let him have it.

Maybe you wanted to.

It was starting, back then. The soft kind of beginning. Lingering hands, long glances. You don’t remember who initiated the shift—but it was there. One of those stupid liminal phases, stuck between friendship and something else.

And then he got his powers, and the shift stopped all together.

He stopped being just Mark.

One day he was your dumbass best friend. The next, he was Invincible.

Suddenly he was gone half the time. Bleeding from places you couldn’t see. Showing up at your door with bruises he didn’t explain. Disappearing in the middle of conversations. Swallowing emotions like if he just didn’t talk about them, they weren’t actually real.

And still, he showed up.

Every single day.

He found you in parking lots. At work. On your stoop with takeout. Orbiting you like the earth was just a little too far and you were the only thing steady enough to keep him tethered.

He never said it. Not directly. But you could see it in his eyes—every time he showed up late with a smile, like he’d been lost but now finally found his way home.

But you wouldn’t let it breathe. Stepped on it before it could bloom. Told him he was sweet. That you loved him—just not like that.

Said things like, “We don’t make sense. You’re out saving the world. I’m… folding laundry and deciding if I’m ready to learn how to use a propane grill. I’m just not the kind of person that fits into a life like yours—not in that role.”

He’d just stand there. Quiet. Hurt. Letting you talk.

Letting you lie.

Because he knew the truth. He always had. You were the only person who could fill that role, and it would always stay an open position until the day you decided you were ready.

—

You hadn’t been on a date since... well, ever. Not really.

There was just Mark, and that almost-what-if stage that promptly collapsed under the weight of reality.

So when you finally downloaded the app, picked a stranger, and said yes to dinner, you told yourself it was progress.

You even styled your hair in a way that was new. Just for this moment.

You sat at the restaurant in an outfit that you swore felt like too much but talked yourself into anyways. Checked your phone a hundred times. Ordered a drink. Then another. Then realized slowly that you definitely had been stood up. This guy wasn’t coming.

No call. No message. Hell, you would’ve taken a messenger pigeon at that point. Some type of acknowledgement would’ve made it all feel just a little bit less… embarrassing.

You paid for your drinks and walked home in silence, feeling stupidly overdressed and like every person you passed knew about the wordless rejection you’d just faced.

Mark was already waiting on your stoop.

He didn’t ask where you’d been. Just handed you a bag of takeout and scooted over to make room.

You didn’t speak for a while. Just sat with your knees touching, paper bag warm between you, the hum of the streetlight buzzing faintly overhead.

“Am I that bad?” you said abruptly without thinking.

Mark paused mid-chew, a fry half in his mouth. “Huh?” he mumbled, clearly confused.

You shook your head, eyes on the sidewalk. “Nothing. Just... I don’t know why I even tried.”

Mark swallowed. “Tried what?”

You gave a soft, bitter laugh. “The date.” His face changed instantly.

“Wait—you were on a date tonight?”

You scoffed, ripping the fry in your fingers in half. “If you could call it that. The guy didn’t even show up.”

You took the tiniest bite off one of the torn pieces, more so for the act of busying yourself than actually wanting to eat. “Guess I needed the reminder though. Like, of course he didn’t. Why would he?”

“Whoa, hey—” Mark leaned in, brows furrowed. “That’s not on you. That guy’s an idiot.”

You shrugged, but it was too stiff. “Or maybe he just looked at my picture a little too long and was like, y’know what, on second thought—”

“C’mon, don’t do that,” he said, voice low, sincere. “That’s not fair.”

You laughed, like it was really starting to become funny (even though it wasn’t at all). “No no, seriously. The guy was probably showing his buddies my profile and they were all oof, you bagged a DOG—”

“Alright—unless the rest of that sentence is ‘a doggone beautiful creature’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

You choked back a laugh, bumping your shoulder into his. “God you’re so corny.”

Mark gave you a weak smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes before his lips fell back into a harder line. “I’m serious. You’re not a dog. You’re not—whatever it is you’re trying to say right now.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to reach back into the bag for more fries—for another physical means of distraction. But his grasp closed around the greasy brown paper, around your wrist, locking you finger-deep in the takeout.

“I fight bad guys for a living, [y/n]. It’s literally my job to like, curb stomp your inner demons.”

You couldn’t help the pfft that sputtered past your lips. “You might need to clock in for overtime ‘cause they’re kicking my ass tonight.”

Mark grinned, just a little too much mischief sparking behind his eyes. “I’m always in overtime. Job never ends.” He finally pulled your hand free of the bag. “Now let a man work.”

You were fighting back a smile of your own as he turned your wrist in his hand, eyes tracing every line like he was inspecting rare art. “These hands?” he said, tone suddenly reverent. “Adorable. Perfect. Nails always going crazy.”

You snorted an embarrassing sound, but he’d heard it a hundred times before. “They’re literally just French tips...”

He grinned wider, ignoring you completely as he kept going. His fingers found a lock of your [hair color] tresses, twirling it around his knuckle. “This hair? Should be in a Pantene commercial. Smells like a teenage boy’s dream.”

You laughed again, softer this time, trying to pull away—but he held on, gently. Then he leaned back just slightly, eyes raking over you with a grin that slowly began to fade as his gaze caught on everything else.

“I mean, you’re dropping jaws just walking around in jeans,” he murmured. “But this?” He gestured vaguely to your still-sorta-date-night look. “The man should be thanking God he didn’t show. ‘Cause I promise you would’ve ended his whole life.”

Your face went warm, lips furling inward in your nervous habit. You tried to play it off, bury your smile in another shake of your head, but it was already happening. The racing of your heart. The stuttering of your breaths.

And then his hand came up, brushing your cheek so soft and careful. “These lips…?” he whispered.

You were still as stone, eyes wide as you watched him. “What about them…?”

His thumb brushed across your lower lip, so gentle it made your chest ache. His gaze flicked up to your eyes, then back down again, like he couldn’t keep his stare away for longer than a moment. “If God ever needed to talk, I’m pretty sure your lips would be the vessel.”

You didn’t say anything.

You couldn’t.

The words had dried up somewhere between your lungs and your throat, stuck there trembling while your lips—those stupid, supposedly divine lips—parted just slightly under the pad of his thumb.

And then he was leaning in, chocolate eyes never leaving your mouth as if he was following them to his destiny. Maybe in another lifetime you would’ve stopped him. Told him again that this didn’t make sense, that you two could never work. Maybe in another dimension. Another version of reality. But there, in that moment, it was inevitable.

It was barely a touch at first. His lips ghosting over yours like he knew what you were thinking, knew that you were probably begging internally for him not to take it here. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t pull back, and he felt like he’d been gifted a second chance at life.

The kiss lasted only a second before he pulled back, his forehead resting against yours as eyes fluttered shut, stomachs tied tight in knots. “Tell me you felt that too,” he breathed, thumb stroking mindlessly over your jaw. You still couldn’t find your voice to answer, and instead tilted your head just enough to press another kiss to his lips. Then another. And by the third, it all began to unravel.

His hand slid to cup the back of your neck, locking you in as his free hand trembled against your hip. The manicured nails he just was praising now scratched lightly up his back, sending chills over his skin until one palm pressed flat between his shoulder blades and the other tangled in his hair.

Your mouth opened without thinking, and his tongue slipped in – no hesitation. You couldn’t believe you were tasting him like this. Couldn’t believe he was holding you like a lover, and not a friend. Couldn’t believe how utterly right it all felt.

What had you been denying yourself this whole time? How many other things in your life had you been so stupid over? Your thoughts could only spiral for so long before he broke away again, breathing hard – and not from lack of oxygen (the man could hold his breath for hours) – but from the sheer heat of it all.

“We should go inside,” he exhaled, his eyes glancing to a woman walking her dog past your front steps. Your pink cheeks burned cherry red, and all you could do was nod.

#invincible fanfic #invincible x reader #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson fanfic #invincible fluff #mark grayson fluff

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wonderjanga · 6 months ago

Note

Billy and Freddy along with Mary watches gacha reaction videos (if you don't know what that is your missing out). But they can only do it in the watch tower and stuff due to the lack of technology in Fawcett. This ideas been going around in my head for a while and I KNOW Freddy would love it.

Hal was having a normal day. The sun was shining, the Earth looked beautiful from the Watchtower. He wanted to go watch the game on one of the Watchtower’s gigantic and beautiful TVs.

GL: *on his merry way to one of the rec rooms, whistling a little tune*

Marvel and Junior: *occasional gasps*

GL: *thinking they’re watching a horror movie and decides he’ll just watch it with them until it’s over* “Hey guys-”

Marvel and Junior: *sitting right in front of the screen, staring like iPad babies and watching a Rivals react to Ayano Aishi vid*

GL: *stares for like a solid second* “What- What the fuck are y’all doing?”

Marvel: *pauses it* “Huh?” *looks back to Hal*

GL: “Why are you guys watching this baby content?”

Junior: *sounds offended* “It’s not baby stuff.”

GL: “Uh yeah. It is.”

Marvel: “No, it isn’t. Stop being a hater.”

GL: “Marvel, you’re a grown ass man. And Junior? You’re at least 14. Why are you watching this??”

Junior: “It’s entertaining.”

GL: “Entertaining. Really?”

Marvel: “Yeah! Come on.” *pats a spot next to him* “Watch it with us.”

GL: “Dude, no.”

Marvel and Junior: *share a look* “Watch it. Watch it. Watch it.” *chanting*

Hal eventually caved.

That’s how he found himself sitting on the floor with them, and watching a surprisingly entertaining “mha reacts to deku as kokichi video”. A couple minutes later, Mary came by with snacks and joined them.

Mary: “I brought some Cheetos and popcorn- wha? You guys started without me?!”

Marvel and Junior: “Sorry, Mary.” *in unison and in shame*

Mary: *sighs and just sits down with them* “Why’s Green Lantern here??

GL: “I just found the fact that a grown man finds this entertaining very interesting.” (He’s actually completely enthralled in these but he’s too embarrassed to admit it)

Mary: “Uh huh… sure.”

Hal’s a little ashamed to admit that they spent like two hours straight doing this until they transitioned into the GLMMs.

GL: “Wait, I don’t get it. Why does the Mom just not love her child?”

Marvel: *shrugs* “Cause she’s mean.”

A couple minutes later…

GL: “Wait, why did the dad die?!”

Mary: “For story progression!”

Like ten minutes later…

GL: “She’s a wolf-cat-angel-demon-unicorn hybrid…?”

Junior: “Yep, she’s special!”

GL: “HAH! Her bitch of a sister’s just a cat!”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *all just happy Hal’s invested*

After a couple GLMMs such as Bad Girls vs Gangsters, Emotionless Girl, and The CEO is my Boss, (shout out to everyone who watched these) they moved on to even more kiddy content. Such as Fnaf videos, but not just any… no no no, these ones

After the Fnaf thingy…

GL: “Damn.” *stands up* “My ass hurts from sitting on the ground for so long.”

Marvel: “Dang…” *pauses their next gacha vid* “So you’re out?”

GL: “Yup.” *stretches*

Mary: “It was nice having you Mr. Green Lantern Sir.”

Junior: “Yeah, thanks for letting us put you on.”

Marvel, Mary, and Junior: *same blinding smile*

Also, by the way, they were definitely watching GLMVs and singing along to “I’m a bad girlfriend” and “She’s crazy but she’s mine” and “Copycat” and “Queen.” All of which were and still are peak and I stand by that till this day.

#billy batson #shazam #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #fawcett city #fawcett #fawcett comics #hal jordan #green lantern

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wbbfannnnnn13 · 3 months ago

Text

Almost, Always // Chapter 11

paige x azzi

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 -

A/N: Alright readers, I spent all night writing this because I just had to get my ideas on paper for how I want the story to progress... this chapter is turning the corner from angst to hope so for those of you who've been struggling with the last few chapters, here you go! I also wanted to have things go in a positive direction before March Madness starts! I won't be able to continue the series until next week so enjoy this for now :)

WC: 6.1k+

Chapter 11 – Beneath the Noise

Paige had told herself she was fine. Told herself to focus. To compartmentalize. To let the weight of that last call with Azzi slide off her shoulders and leave it on the bench like another piece of gear she didn’t need to carry into game day.

But she wasn’t fine. Not even close.

The words kept looping in her head — just a breather… pause… not from us, just everything else. She kept trying to replay the call in a way that made it feel lighter, like it hadn’t meant what it sounded like. But no matter how she spun it, something in her had shifted. And she couldn’t unfeel it.

She moved through practice like she was underwater — running drills and pushing through reps with practiced intensity — but her mind was always somewhere else. On that call. On Azzi’s voice. On all the things that hadn’t been said.

Her body was moving, but her focus was fractured. Her rhythm was off. She missed a defensive cue during a walkthrough, and Dijonai gave her a look from across the paint. A subtle shake of the head, not annoyed — just clocking it. Paige didn’t even bother pretending she didn’t notice.

She chalked it up to fatigue. Told herself it was the playoffs. Pressure, adrenaline, nerves; nothing new. But deep down, she knew better. This wasn’t just pre-game tension. This was that quiet unraveling she thought she’d gotten past. That ache in her chest had nothing to do with matchups or scouting reports and everything to do with the person she wasn’t sure she still had in her corner.

Later, after practice finished, Paige stood in the training room, ankle wrapped, shoulders tight, zoning out while a trainer walked her through basic stretches she’d done a hundred times. Her body moved on autopilot, but her head wasn’t anywhere in the room.

“You good?” Arike asked from the table beside her, tossing a rolled towel across the floor with her foot.

Paige snapped out of it. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Arike gave her a look that said she didn’t buy it, but didn’t push.

Dijonai chimed in from across the room. “You’ve been tired for three weeks straight. You might wanna switch up the lie.”

“Maybe I just like consistency,” Paige mumbled.

But it wasn’t just tiredness, and everyone knew it. The rumors and the media had worn on her. But it was the pause conversation that really hadn’t sat right with her, no matter how many times she replayed it in her head. She wanted to give Azzi the benefit of the doubt. She wanted to believe it really was just about the noise — the chaos, the timing, the press.

But something about it kept catching in her chest, like a thread snagged on a nail. The way Azzi had said it — Not us. Just everything else. It sounded simple, reasonable. But the more Paige turned it over in her head, the more it twisted. Because how do you hit pause on everything else without creating space between each other? How do you separate the noise from the relationship when the noise had already started bleeding into every part of it?

She tried to shake it off as she finished treatment and headed into film review, but right before she sat down, her phone buzzed in her pocket. A text. From Katie.

Her stomach dropped.

She hadn’t even thought about what Azzi’s parents must be feeling in the middle of all this. The silence, the tension, the headlines. It had all kept her so focused on Azzi’s absence, on the weight of her own guilt and confusion, that she’d completely overlooked the people who had welcomed her like one of their own. Katie and Tim had just given their blessing for Paige to ask Azzi to marry her. And now, all of that trust was caught in the crossfire. Paige couldn’t shake the thought that they might be questioning her too, wondering what kind of person would put their daughter through this. The idea of disappointing them twisted something deep in her chest.

She pulled her phone out under the table but was quickly interrupted. She didn’t open it. Couldn’t. Not yet. Coach was already talking through matchups, clips rolling on the screen. Paige shoved her phone face-down on her thigh and tried to focus, but the anxiety settled under her skin like static.

She barely registered half of what was said. Her mind was spinning too fast. All she could hear was the looping question: What if they’re disappointed in me too?

When the meeting finally ended, she stepped out into the hallway and opened the message.

KATIE: We’ve seen the headlines. Just wanted you to know we trust you. But we’d love to talk soon. Hope you’re holding up.

Her chest tightened. Trust. The word hit her like a gut punch. It didn’t feel like something she’d earned anymore, not after the way everything had unraveled so fast. Not with the headlines circling, not with Azzi’s silence still echoing in her ears. She wasn’t even sure if she still trusted herself—her instincts, her decisions, the version of love she thought she was offering. It all felt shaky now, like she’d misjudged what they could withstand. And yet, somehow, Katie and Tim still believed in her. Still offered grace. That made it hurt even more.

She stared at her phone, thumb hovering, pulse pounding in her ears. But this time, she didn’t hesitate. She owed them that much. She owed Azzi that much. Without giving herself another second to spiral, she stepped outside, thumb pressed the call button, and brought the phone to her ear.

Katie picked up on the first ring. “Hey, Paige.”

“Hey,” Paige said quietly, then paused. “Thanks for the message.”

“We just wanted you to know where we stand. We’ve talked to Azzi a lot, but we wanted to hear from you too.”

“I get it.” She paused, throat tightening. “Actually… I was going to tell you this before everything blew up. That woman I was seen with—the one in the photo outside the restaurant? She wasn’t some random girl. She’s an event planner. I was meeting with her to start planning a proposal. I already have the ring.”

The words sat heavy between them, even over the phone. Paige exhaled slowly, her voice softer now. “That was the whole reason I was there. I didn’t say anything because I wanted it to be a surprise. But then everything happened, and now it looks like something it wasn’t. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain things to her without ruining everything… I hate that she might’ve thought—” Her voice broke off before she could finish the sentence. “It just… it wasn’t what it looked like.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then Katie’s voice came through, warm but steadier than before.

“Oh, honey.”

It wasn’t pity. It wasn’t disappointment. Just understanding, layered with something maternal and unshakeably kind.

“You should’ve led with that,” Katie said gently. “Tim and I… we didn’t believe the rumors, not really. But we also knew Azzi would need time to sort through how it looked. You know how much she loves you. But this obviously clears a lot up.”

Paige swallowed hard, feeling the burn behind her eyes now. “I didn’t mean for it to fall apart like this.”

“It hasn’t,” Katie said. “You’re still in it. You’re still trying. And she sees that even if she hasn’t said it yet. Don’t lose sight of that.”

Paige sighed. “She asked to pause things. I don’t even know what that means, not really. But it’s been in my head ever since.”

“Did she say she wanted space from you?”

“No. But it felt like it.”

Katie paused. “Paige, I know it’s messy right now, but Azzi loves you. And you know her. You know how much she overthinks everything. She’s just scared.”

“I’m scared too.”

“I know,” Katie said gently. “But don’t let that fear rewrite everything you already know about each other. Just hold steady.”

Paige didn’t say anything, but her grip on the phone tightened. “Thanks for not thinking the worst of me.”

“We’ve seen how you love her. We’ve never questioned that.”

When the call ended, Paige stayed on the bench outside for a while, phone resting loosely in her hand. The ring lingered in her thoughts, heavier than before—not because she questioned it, but because she still believed in what it represented. Even if Azzi wasn’t ready yet, she was. And that belief, steady and unshaken, was its own kind of weight.

______________________________________________________________

Azzi’s phone rang later that night. Her mom’s name lit up the screen, and for a moment, she just stared at it. Not because she didn’t want to answer, but because she already knew what this call was going to be. There’d been a lot of these lately. Quiet check-ins, gentle nudges, and moments where Katie and Tim tried to be supportive without overstepping.

She’d talked to them more in the last few weeks than she had in months. Sometimes just for a few minutes between practices, sometimes for longer stretches at night when she couldn’t sleep and needed to hear a voice that felt like home. Katie always knew when to push and when to simply listen. Tim didn’t say much, but when he did, it stuck. They’d been her grounding force through all the noise.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey, sweetie. Just checking in.”

Azzi could hear the edge in her mother’s voice — careful, but purposeful, like she was threading each word through a filter. The kind of tone Katie used when she didn’t want to push too hard, but still had something to say. It wasn’t scolding, just… intentional. And that alone made Azzi’s stomach knot a little tighter.

She wondered how much Katie already knew. Not just from the internet — but from Paige. Her mom had been vague on their last few calls, asking how she was holding up, encouraging her to stay focused, but never outright bringing up the rumors or her relationship with Paige. But tonight, something in her voice felt different. Like she wasn’t just checking in — she was steering toward something.

Azzi could picture her mom sitting at the kitchen counter, phone in one hand, concern in her eyes. The way she always had that soft tension in her posture when she was holding back just enough to let Azzi come forward first. She’d done it all through high school, through college, through draft night. She never pried. But she always knew. Always had a way of seeing what Azzi was struggling to say before she even found the words herself.

And Azzi had a feeling she wasn’t going to get through this call without facing at least one of those things.

“I’m fine,” Azzi said, even though it wasn’t entirely true.

“Are you?”

Azzi sighed softly. “I don’t know.”

Katie let that hang for a moment, not rushing to fill the silence.

“I know things have been... intense,” she said carefully. “And I know you’re trying to keep your head down and focus, but I also know you. You carry things quietly, even when they’re heavy. I just don’t want you trying to carry this alone.”

Azzi’s fingers curled tighter around the phone.

“There’s a lot I’m still trying to sort out,” she said finally. “And I feel like every time I get a grip on one part of it, something else spins out.”

Katie’s voice softened. “That’s fair. But I hope you’re giving Paige a little grace in all of this too.”

Azzi stilled. “You talked to her.”

Katie didn’t answer right away. “We’ve been in touch here and there,” she said carefully, not confirming too much. “But more than that, we’ve just been thinking about you both. Watching all of this unfold from the sidelines hasn’t exactly been easy.”

Azzi’s jaw tightened. “I know.”

“I’m not here to tell you how to feel,” Katie said. “But I will remind you of one thing — you know her. Better than anyone. Better than the internet. Better than whatever headline people want to run with next. And I know you’ve had your doubts lately, but I also know what that girl has meant to you for a long time.”

Azzi closed her eyes. The weight of that truth settled hard.

Katie continued, gentler now. “You told us once that you’d never let fear be the thing that breaks you two apart. So don’t let it start now. And for the love of God, stop reading the comment sections. Focus on your game. Focus on your team. And, if I may suggest — beat her ass on the court. Nicely, of course.”

That pulled a quiet laugh out of Azzi, even as her throat tightened.

“Thanks, Mom.”

“Anytime, baby.”

Azzi stayed on the line a few seconds longer after her mom hung up, listening to the silence, as if the weight of Katie’s words hadn’t fully settled yet. She finally set the phone on the nightstand, then leaned forward, elbows on her knees, hands loosely clasped.

Her mom was right. She always had a way of cutting straight through the noise and saying the exact thing Azzi needed to hear, even when Azzi didn’t want to hear it.

But that didn’t mean it made everything easier.

Her mom had been the one to first ask the hard questions. What are you really afraid of? Is it Paige? Or is it everything around her?

And Azzi hadn’t known how to answer.

Because it wasn’t Paige. It had never really been Paige. It was everything else. The spotlight. The scrutiny. The exposure that seemed to stretch beyond what either of them had signed up for. She thought she could handle it — had told herself she could. But the past few weeks had made her wonder if she’d underestimated just how much pressure came with loving someone whose name was always in the headlines.

And worse, she hated that somewhere along the way, that pressure had started to reshape how she looked at Paige. She didn’t want to admit that, even to herself. But it had. Not because she stopped loving her — that hadn’t changed — but because the weight of what came with her had started to feel overwhelming.

Now, her mom’s voice echoed in her head again. You know her. Better than anyone. Better than the Internet.

Azzi exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. She did know her. That was the part that hurt the most. Because if she stripped away the noise, the fear, and the headlines — she still believed in who Paige was. Still believed in what they had. Still believed that, deep down, nothing about that had changed.

She just wasn’t sure if she’d waited too long to say that out loud.

______________________________________________________________

The cameras were already set up when Paige stepped into the media room. Rows of chairs, light panels, boom mics — the usual chaos disguised as routine. She’d done this so many times before, but today everything felt different. The air felt tighter. The noise a little louder. Like everyone was waiting for her to slip.

She adjusted her warmup jacket and took her seat at the podium alongside a couple of teammates. Her knee bounced under the table. She told herself to relax, to focus, to treat this like any other presser.

But it wasn’t any other presser. Not after the last few weeks. Not with her relationship suddenly turned into a headline, a thread for people to pull at.

She knew what was coming before it hit.

At first, the questions were light. Basketball stuff. Matchups, adjustments, scouting reports. She answered them easily, slipping into her polished media voice without much effort.

Then came the pivot.

“Paige, there's been a lot of outside attention lately — off the court. How are you balancing the media noise with the playoff pressure?”

Her stomach tightened. Not unexpected. Just unwelcome.

She leaned toward the mic. “I’m focused on our team and this series. That’s where my head is. That’s what matters right now.”

It was measured. Safe. But the follow-up came fast.

“Are you and Azzi still together?”

The question hung there, heavier than the others. For a split second, Paige thought about deflecting. Thought about the way Azzi had said pause, about the ache that had followed. But she caught herself.

She took a breath. “We’ve both agreed to keep our focus on basketball right now. That’s all I’m going to say.”

She didn’t let her voice crack. Didn’t let the weight of it show. But inside, it rattled. Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure what pause really meant. And it didn’t help that the world was trying to figure it out right alongside her.

The next few questions blurred together — more about rotations, shot selection, and playoff intensity. She answered them all, steady, professional. But she felt her focus splitting, pulled between the words she said and the thoughts clawing at the back of her mind.

When the presser wrapped, Paige was the first to stand. She muttered a quiet thanks to the media staff and stepped off the stage. Her phone buzzed the second she hit the tunnel.

One new message.

AZZI: Just saw some of the clips from your presser. You handled it well. Thanks for not feeding into it.

Paige stared at the screen for a second, thumb hovering.

Then she typed.

PAIGE: I meant what I said. I didn’t dodge those questions because I’m scared. I just didn’t want to make it worse for you. For us.

A moment passed.

Then another buzz.

AZZI: I know. I appreciate it. I really do.

Paige’s shoulders dropped a little. Not relief exactly, but something close. It didn’t fix everything. It didn’t answer all the questions still tangled between them.

But it was something.

She looked back toward the court. Walkthroughs were starting soon. Azzi would be arriving soon too. For the first time in weeks, they’d be in the same room again.

And she wasn’t sure if that thought steadied her — or unraveled her more.

______________________________________________________________

Walkthrough was already underway by the time Paige laced up and jogged back onto the court. Coaches were running through sets, players scattered across the floor, music humming low through the arena speakers. The energy felt different now—focused, sharp, like every player could feel the stakes rising just beneath the surface.

But Paige couldn’t get her head to settle.

She kept replaying Azzi’s message. The texts had been short, kind, supportive even. But there was something she couldn’t shake—like she was reading between lines that didn’t exist, searching for something more than what was actually there. It left her off balance. Like trying to catch her footing on a floor that kept tilting under her.

“Yo,” Arike said, falling into step beside her. “You good?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, quick, too quick.

Arike raised an eyebrow. “You sure? Because you’ve run the wrong play twice now and you just tried to screen NaLyssa by accident.”

Paige gave a half-laugh, scrubbing a hand down her face. “I’m locking in, don’t worry.”

Arike didn’t press, just clapped her shoulder and jogged ahead. But Paige could feel the glance that lingered.

She turned back toward the half-court line, just in time to see the other team walk into the gym.

The Mystics.

And Azzi.

Her breath caught for a second—just enough to make her chest tighten.

Azzi was wearing her warmups, hair pulled back, talking with one of her coaches. She looked relaxed. Composed. Like everything wasn’t tangled in knots behind the scenes. Like none of this was weighing on her at all.

Paige stood still, trying not to stare, but her eyes kept locking on Azzi anyway.

Azzi turned, just slightly, and their gazes met.

It was just a moment. Just one look across a crowded court.

But it felt like something.

Azzi didn’t say anything. Didn’t wave. But she offered a small smile. Soft. Careful.

Paige didn’t know what to do with it.

She smiled back—tentative, unsure—and raised a hand in a low wave. Azzi nodded once, then turned her attention back to her team.

And just like that, the moment passed.

Paige stood there a second longer, caught in the afterglow of it, then turned back to her own bench.

Her heart was still beating too fast.

She didn’t know what it meant. Didn’t know if it meant anything at all. But it stirred something in her chest—a flicker of warmth, the smallest crack in all the weight she’d been carrying.

______________________________________________________________

Azzi felt Paige’s eyes before she even saw her.

She had walked into the arena with her teammates, nodding along to whatever Aaliyah was saying about defensive switches, but her body was buzzing with something else entirely—nerves, adrenaline, maybe both. She didn’t want to admit how much she’d been dreading this moment, or how much she’d rehearsed it in her head.

When she glanced across the court and found Paige standing near the half-court line, her heart stuttered.

There she was. Fully in it now. Paige’s shoulders squared, jersey half-tucked, hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, every inch of her locked in. Except for her eyes. Those still softened when they met Azzi’s.

For a second, the rest of the gym faded.

Paige raised a hand in a quiet wave—tentative, cautious. Azzi offered a small smile in return. Not out of politeness. Out of instinct. She wasn’t even sure what it meant. It was just… there.

Then she turned away, pretending to re-focus on warmups.

But her pulse didn’t settle.

Back in the locker room, the pregame energy was humming. Shoes squeaked across the floor. Someone was blasting a hype playlist from the speaker in the corner. Coaches rotated through, giving reminders, and calling out rotations. It all felt familiar—ritualistic, grounding.

Azzi sat at her locker, tugging on her shooting sleeve, letting the noise wrap around her like armor.

So she laced her shoes tighter and kept moving.

As they stepped out of the tunnel, her heart was pounding hard enough to hear. The arena lights were blinding at first, the crowd already buzzing with anticipation. Azzi scanned the stands, then the court, then—inevitably—Paige.

She didn’t even have to look hard. Paige was always magnetic that way.

They lined up for warmups, separated only by a stretch of hardwood and tension. The distance between them felt small and enormous all at once.

Azzi went through her routine—corner threes, pull-ups, a few easy finishes at the rim—but her mind kept flicking sideways. Catching glimpses of Paige out of the corner of her eye. The way she moved, the way she carried herself—sharp, precise, controlled. But Azzi could still see the flicker of weight in her posture. Like Paige was trying to burn it off with every drill.

They didn’t speak. Not here. Not yet.

Then came tip-off.

Azzi took her position on the wing, bouncing on the balls of her feet, adrenaline prickling beneath her skin. Across from her, Paige settled into her stance. Their eyes met once more, just briefly. Something unreadable passed between them.

The whistle blew.

And everything snapped into motion.

Azzi ran hard. Cut sharper than usual. She wanted—no, needed—to lose herself in the rhythm of the game. But even as plays unfolded, she felt Paige like a shadow. Every possession carried more weight, every screen more impact. It wasn’t personal—not in the basketball sense—but it was personal in every other way.

At one point during a timeout, Azzi reached for her water bottle and happened to glance toward the opposing bench. Paige was already looking at her.

Neither of them looked away.

It was nothing. But it wasn’t.

Late in the third, they collided on a drive. Paige came around a screen, attacking the lane with force, and Azzi rotated over just in time to take the hit. Their bodies crashed in a tangle of movement—shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip—before Azzi absorbed the blow, stumbled a step, and kept her balance. The contact wasn’t malicious, but it was hard. Sharp enough to rattle. Sharp enough to remind them both that this wasn’t just basketball, not really.

They didn’t say anything. Just a flick of eye contact—quick, searching, loaded. Not anger, not apology, just something unspoken hanging between them.

And then, as they passed each other in transition, Paige reached out, almost without thinking. Just a brush of her fingers against Azzi’s forearm—light, fleeting, but deliberate. A grounding gesture. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough for Azzi to feel it. Enough to say: I’m still here.

Azzi didn’t turn. Didn’t react. But her hand flexed at her side once, just slightly. As if holding onto something that wasn’t quite gone.

The game stayed tight until the final minutes, every possession tense, every rebound fought for like it meant something more than just points on the board. The crowd was loud, energy vibrating through the arena with each shift in momentum. Azzi had just knocked down a corner jumper to tie it, and for a moment, the noise felt like thunder.

But then Paige took over.

First, a step-back three from the wing — clean, high arc, net barely moving as it dropped through. A dagger. The kind of shot that made defenders sag just a little slower the next time down. The kind of shot that said: this game’s mine.

Then a steal. Anticipation, instinct, pure reflex — she jumped the passing lane and took off down the court before anyone else had reacted. She didn’t even glance at the defender trailing her. Just gathered, exploded toward the rim, and finished clean at the glass.

The next play, she didn’t shoot at all. She drew two defenders on a drive, then slung a no-look pass to the corner, right into her teammate’s hands. Catch, release, three. The crowd erupted. Her bench did too — leaping to their feet, arms thrown in the air as the scoreboard ticked forward.

Azzi pushed to close the gap, digging in on every possession, chasing shooters off screens, crashing the boards harder, sprinting the full length of the court like sheer effort could will her team back into it. She called for the ball more, drove harder into the lane, fought through contact that left bruises blooming under her jersey. But every time she got them within striking distance, Paige answered — another stop, another smart pass, another moment of composure that tilted the momentum back.

Azzi felt the seconds bleeding off the clock, too fast, too unforgiving. She barked instructions during timeouts, clenched her jaw tighter with each missed opportunity, tried to rally her team with defiance in her voice even when exhaustion pressed down on her legs like lead.

But it wasn’t enough.

The gap stayed just out of reach, widening slightly with each possession that didn’t go their way. And as the final minute ticked down, Azzi knew it. She could feel the weight of it settling into her chest — not from the loss alone, but from everything wrapped inside it.

When the final buzzer sounded, the Wings had taken Game 1.

Azzi walked toward the tunnel without lingering. She didn’t go looking for Paige, didn’t scan the court. Not because she didn’t want to—but because she wasn’t sure what she’d say if their eyes met again.

______________________________________________________________

Paige watched as Azzi walked off the court without a word. Just a quick postgame handshake—brief, automatic, the kind they’d given each other a hundred times before. No smile. No lingering glance. Just contact, then gone.

It hit harder than the final buzzer.

She stayed frozen near half-court for a few seconds longer than necessary, caught in the slow unraveling of something she couldn’t name. Her teammates were celebrating around her, high-fives and towels and laughter echoing in her ears, but Paige couldn’t hear any of it.

All she could hear was the silence Azzi left behind.

By the time she made it to the locker room, the headlines had already started flooding her phone. Push notifications stacking one after another.

“Paige and Azzi: Over?” “Mystery Girl Resurfaces After Game One.” “Is Paige Bueckers a Cheater?” “No Postgame Interaction Between Bueckers and Fudd.”

It was relentless.

Paige stared at the screen for a second, then tossed her phone onto the bench like it burned.

The worst part was that it didn’t even surprise her anymore. This was what the world did—took what was complicated and cracked it wide open, let strangers dissect every gesture, every silence, every clipped expression. Turned emotion into clickbait.

She showered in silence, barely listening to the music thumping in the background. Her teammates were in good spirits—celebrating the win, hyped about the series lead—but Paige felt detached, like her body was still moving through the motions while her mind stayed stuck in that moment on the court. The part where Azzi walked away like they were strangers.

When she got back to her apartment, the quiet was deafening. She didn’t turn on the TV. Didn’t even take off her jacket right away. She sat on the edge of her couch, elbows on her knees, head in her hands, trying not to let it all feel like a sign.

She thought of the ring again, still tucked away in that drawer. And she hated how distant that version of her now felt—the one who had picked it out with a steady heart and a sure mind. The one who believed they’d find their way through anything.

She thought she’d be that person forever. Now she wasn’t sure.

Her phone buzzed again. She ignored it at first, assuming it was more headlines or group chat chaos. But then it buzzed again. And again.

When she finally looked over, her breath caught.

Azzi. FaceTime Incoming.

Paige blinked, almost not believing it. For a second, she just stared at the screen, unsure whether to answer. Unsure what this meant.

But her fingers moved on instinct. She picked up.

Azzi’s face appeared, her hoodie pulled up, hair tied back messily. Behind her, the dim lighting of the hotel room cast everything in a warm, muted glow — the edge of a suitcase half-zipped on the bed, a pair of sneakers kicked off by the door, a TV playing quietly in the background, forgotten. She looked a little worn down, a little rumpled from the day, but still entirely herself — the kind of familiar that made something in Paige’s chest settle, even if just for a second.

“Hey,” she said quietly.

Paige’s chest tightened. “Hey.”

There was a pause. A beat too long. The kind of silence that used to be comfortable between them, now edged with uncertainty.

“I saw the headlines,” Azzi said, voice low. “I figured you probably did too.”

Paige let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Hard to miss.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “I didn’t mean to walk off like that. I was frustrated—at the game, at myself, at everything. It wasn’t about you.”

Paige shrugged, trying to play it off, even though her voice cracked a little. “Didn’t look that way.”

“I know,” Azzi said, softer now. “I’m sorry.”

Another beat of silence passed between them.

Paige swallowed. “You FaceTimed.”

Azzi gave the faintest smile. “Yeah. I didn’t want that to be the last thing between us tonight.”

The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, just full. Full of everything they hadn’t said.

Azzi shifted, her voice quieter now. “I know I said let’s take a breather… but I didn’t mean from you. I meant everything else. The noise. The questions. The pressure.” She exhaled slowly. “I’m still in this with you, P. I never wasn’t. I love you. I just… I needed to come up for air. And I want us to talk through it all, just not while we’re in the middle of this series.”

Paige’s jaw tensed for a second, but then softened. She nodded slowly, eyes not leaving Azzi’s. “I get it. Even if it’s not what I wanted to hear. I do get it.”

“I hated how that call ended,” Azzi said. “It’s been messing with me. I should’ve said more, said it better. You didn’t deserve the confusion.”

“You didn’t deserve to feel like you had to carry everything alone,” Paige said. “I should’ve checked in with you differently too. I just… I’ve been so afraid of losing you, I didn’t want to push.”

“You’re not losing me,” Azzi said firmly. “You never were.”

Paige let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her smile came slow, small, a little worn around the edges. “You’ve got a funny way of showing it.”

Azzi winced, then gave a sheepish smile. “Okay… fair. I deserved that.”

“I mean, you ghost me,” Paige said, shifting slightly on her couch, her hand rubbing at the back of her neck. “You drop a vague ‘pause’ speech mid-FaceTime, then walk off the court like we’ve never shared a toothbrush.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, half amused. “We’ve never shared a toothbrush.”

Paige tilted her head, a smirk already forming. “As far as you know.”

Azzi recoiled, nose scrunching in mock horror. “Oh my god. That’s disgusting. Please tell me you’re joking.”

Paige just shrugged, expression unreadable. “Guess you’ll never know.”

Azzi groaned, shaking her head, but her laughter broke through anyway. “That’s actually vile. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“But you still love me,” Paige said, her voice dipping into a familiar, teasing lilt.

Azzi rolled her eyes, but there was no hiding the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Unfortunately.”

“I’ll take it,” Paige said softly. This time, her smile wasn’t just playful. It was warm. Real. The kind of smile that crept up from somewhere deeper.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable—it was full in a different way, layered with everything they hadn’t quite figured out how to say yet. Not resolution, not closure. But something.

“I’ll see you in D.C.,” Paige said after a moment, her voice quieter now, but still carrying that steady undercurrent of hope.

Azzi nodded. “You better bring your A-game.”

“Oh, I will,” Paige said, grin sharpening again. “Just try not to get too distracted out there.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “By what, your step-back jumper?”

Paige smirked. “Nah. More like these arms. I’ve been putting in serious time in the weight room.”

She turned her phone slightly, angling the camera to flex her bicep, putting on an exaggerated show. “Check it out — peak athleticism.”

Azzi burst out laughing, shaking her head. “Please. That’s barely a muscle.”

Paige grinned. “You weren’t saying that last summer.”

Azzi blinked, then laughed harder. “You’re delusional.”

“Mmhmm. Sure,” Paige said, letting the silence stretch just long enough to let the teasing land. “I’m just saying, don’t blame me when you start bricking shots because you’re distracted by these babies.”

Azzi shook her head, still grinning. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.”

Azzi sighed dramatically. “So inconvenient.”

Paige grinned. “Tell me about it,” she said, playful but softer now, eyes holding just a little more weight. “You keep loving me anyway.”

The words slipped out casual, easy—but there was something truer behind them. A quiet acknowledgment, a thread of understanding that ran deeper than the teasing. And for a split second, Azzi caught it—realized what she’d just admitted. What Paige had gently pointed back to. But instead of pulling away from it, she let it sit between them, unspoken but known.

And the moment rolled forward, lighter than it had been a minute ago, but heavier in meaning than either of them said out loud, neither one rushing to end the call. The tension between them hadn’t vanished completely, but something gentler had moved in—something that felt like a step back toward solid ground.

When the screen finally went dark, Paige sat there for a moment, staring at the reflection of herself in the blank screen. Her fingers still hovered near the phone, like she didn’t quite want to let go of the moment yet. The ache in her chest hadn’t disappeared, but something in her felt steadier now—like maybe she wasn’t the only one still trying.

For the first time in weeks, it didn’t feel like she was chasing something that was already slipping away. It felt like Azzi was still there, reaching back. Not all the way, not yet, but enough.

Paige leaned back against the couch, letting herself exhale fully for the first time all day. The rest of the short series would still be brutal. The media would still stir things up. And there were still conversations they hadn’t had yet…

But the way Azzi had smiled. The way she’d said You’re not losing me. The way she still knew how to tease her like nothing had changed, even when everything had.

It gave her something to hold onto.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics #azzi fudd #paige bueckers

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fatliterature · 6 months ago

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The Streamer

Something was happening to Carlos.

Before it began, he was an early 20s hoodie-wearing streamer boy. See his tub of protein powder on the shelf behind him, his laundry basket in the corner, his gym bottle reflecting the blue LED lights of his room. He had all the gear, the lights, the mic, a good brb animation, his subscriber count wasn’t crazy but he was happy with his progress. ‘What is uppp guys uhhhhhh I’m gonna stream some Fortnite tonight guys… but I also wanna watch some stupid videos on YouTube maybe?’ See his face framed by his hood. He’s cute, he has big dark eyes and thick eyebrows, lots of potential. This is the night he makes a mistake. ‘Okay okay okay lemme get up my YouTube okay I have uhhhh…’ He shares his screen with the viewers. There is a kind of guilty pleasure in seeing a streamer’s screen shared for a few seconds, a weird wallpaper, a messy desktop, how many notifications? He opens the browser and brings up YouTube. It’s the usual recommended videos, they look like yours, games, video essays, meme compilations. But what’s that? The bottom right hand corner. There is a recommended video. It’s on his ‘watch again’ list. The screen changes but it’s too late. The chat starts to react. ‘Uhhhhh what are you all talking about?’ There’s a long pause. Belly play video. Belly play video. Bro…. Belly play video? WTF LMAOOOOOOOOO. Bro is watching belly play videos whatttt. OMG. No. No, no, no, no. ‘Chill. Someone uhhhh somebody sent that to me as a joke chat literally chill.’ It’s fine. They’ll move on. They’ll forget it. Jesus why would the algorithm do him dirty like this. Last time he ever shares his screen on his YouTube homepage. Plus, it was TRUE, somebody had sent him it as a joke, and he had loved it, he’d laughed and watched it again, and again, and again. Each time laughing less, each time getting a little quieter, totally perplexed, and… curious. ‘OKAY guys, we’re gonna go to Fortnite.’ He thinks the moment is forgotten. But someone watching him won’t forget.

It’s a few months later. And chat is driving him crazy. He had started eating on stream, just snacks and whatever. But someone in the chat was making it into a thing. 600 calories! The first time they did it he barely noticed. But the next time he ate… 450 calories! Was that the same person in the chat? 1800 calories!!! OMG yesss! Okay, so every time he ate something, they were gonna comment the amount of calories it had, kind of a weird joke. Also, what the fuck, this meal has 1800 calories? He finished his soda. 400 more calories! Keep it up king! Fuck. Something about this was making his brain feel funny. ‘Chat why is everyone calorie counting me? Let me live!’ He looked away from his game for a second and read the chat. We love it king. You should eat more. Everyone spam 5000 CALORIE GOAL in the chat right NOW. 5000 calorie goal!! 5000 calorie goal king Carlos!! You can do it! BANG! He looked back at his game. Game over. You placed #80th. ‘Fuck.’ How long had he been staring at those words? ‘Alright guys, clearly I suck at this game tonight.’ His heart beat a little faster. ‘You wanna see me reach 5000 calories by the end of the stream? Get me to 5000 subscribers! Then maybe I’ll think about it you fucking weirdos.’

It’s a few months later again. This is where it’s safe to say, something was happening to Carlos. He tried not to think about it too much. His audience of subscribers had grown, a lot. And they seemed to be in on the joke. It was a joke by the way, the calorie counter at the top of the screen, which had made the chat go WILD when he first put it up to make them laugh. Carlos found that the more he leaned into the joke, the more his subscribers grew. The more he did what they wanted, the more they came back for more. The more he ate, the bigger he got. And he had definitely gotten bigger. ‘I mean chat, look at me, you’ve made me blow up it’s not even funny, I don’t move off this chair and you want me to RAISE the daily calorie goal are you insane?’ He jiggled a little when he laughed. His brain felt funny a lot of the time now, it made him feel kind of foggy, to play along with this. But what was he doing? He had actually gained weight… and he had yes, gained a lot of subscribers too. And they loved it, they loved it more than the games he was streaming. His breathing got a little faster. What if my subscriber count just kept getting bigger? What if I kept it up? Could this be like, my gimmick? Ge could just let his chat decide how big…. His breathing got a lot faster. Up until this point, he had denied the semi erection that happened every time he started thinking like this. He tried not to think about it too much. But he wanted those subscribers, he wanted his platform to grow… he wanted…to grow. What? ‘Chat I think you guys are messing with my head.’ A long pause. The comments appeared… We just want you to be who you truly are - Calorie Carlos! Omg yes. Calorie Carlos… our fat streamer boy. Carlos felt dizzy. Calorie Carlos! Our growing streamer pig lmaoooo. Okay, his erection wasn’t going away. What the fuck was happening. He tried not to think about it, as he reached for the keyboard. He tried not to think about it, as he raised the daily calorie counter to 6000 a day, he tried not to think about it, as he lifted his hoodie, jiggled his belly for the camera, and changed his name to Calorie_Carlos.

It’s a year later. The games Carlos plays are almost irrelevant. The calorie counter glows in the corner of the screen, it makes sounds and animates as it tracks his every meal, and every time it updates the chat goes wild. The more he gave in, the more he shared his growing belly and showed himself eating, the more every stream filled with responses. Encouragement. Looking good Calorie Carlos! Looking BIG. Keep growing! This changed the landscape of his chat. It…. turned him on, it KEPT him turned on. And eventually it began to change the landscape of his brain. Good streamer. Good piggy. Never stop. He couldn’t get away from it. The hazy brain fog that happened when he read these things, it became how he spent most of his days. Show your belly in the next 1000 calories king. Good fat boy! Eat more for us. What effect did this have on Carlos? He stopped worrying about why this turned him on, the validation he received from so many subscribers meant his mind was filled with encouragement and gluttony, it struggled to find space for anything else. His personality began to change. See his tubs of ice cream on the desks around him, his neglected gym gear pushed into the corner and hidden under empty pizza boxes, his 2 litre bottles of soda reflecting the pink LED lights of his room. He is Calorie Carlos. ‘What is upppp guys uhhhh URPP tonight I’m getting a HUGE fast food order and I’m gonna rate it all as I eat it, I know you all wanna see this massive belly when it’s full ha! Well, you’ll just have to keep watching.’

#belly gainer #gainer boy #weight gain story #gainer stories

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sungbeam · 1 year ago

Text

nonidol!jung sungchan x f!reader

at some point beneath the glittering summer sun and along evening tides, you and sungchan tripped over the line drawn in the sand.

▷ genre, warnings. brother's best friend!au, friends-ish 2 lovers, family vacay + sungchan lol, swearing, kissing, fluff, humor, sungchan does go shirtless (it's a beach), mentions of food, mentions of alcohol; lee jeno, sohee, and anton r ur brothers! (so u have the lee last name but u "look more like ur mom"); barely proofread, also im sorry if this is boring my head has not been in the game for Months

▷ word count. 10.0k

DISCLAIMER: i DO NOT actively write for or stan riize; this is literally just a birthday present T-T so if dynamics/personalities aren't right, i literally don't know these guys 💀

a/n: happiest birthday to my beloved soulmate and wife @justalildumpling :')) i hope u like it <3

OFTEN when you came back home from work, your joints and muscles ached to the point you could barely stand, your hair felt gross on your head, and your eyes stung from dehydration and sleep deprivation. That was the toll of working closing shift at the restaurant you worked at, and had been working at, for the past several years.

It wasn't out of the ordinary to see the lights in the house still warm and bright when you got home either. Your family was a handful of night owls, not discounting yourself. They had witnessed you in this particular rat-nest dump of a state time and time again, which was why you didn't worry about looking like Death Incarnate.

“Hey.”

Your soul left your body.

Sitting on your living room couch was not a family member. Though, he might as well have been a part of it from how much you had been seeing him lately. Jung Sungchan was your older brother Jeno's best friend, but Sungchan was in your year rather than Jeno's. The two met via the high school soccer team and had been good friends since.

Years later, he was sitting on the living room couch, nearing one in the morning, his hair damp from a recent shower, T-shirt sleeves rolled up his shoulders, and his phone paused from the game he was playing. Your brain was too tired to even register the amount of muscle packed onto his arms (what the fuck—).

“Sorry, did I scare you?” He chuckled sheepishly, reaching up to ruffle his dark hair, grown out slightly.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted instead. Exhaustion meant that conventional politeness was completely defenestrated. It was one in the morning on a summer night… usually your older brother was out clubbing or drinking (not that you were any different, but you worked quite a bit more nights lately).

Sungchan's eyes danced up and down your form. “Jeno and I decided we're gonna pull an all-nighter for the road trip in—” He glanced over at his phone, “—seven hours and just knock out in the car. How was work?”

Road trip? Car ride? If you could just make it to the shower… “It was fine. Tiring,” you said with a sigh. You trudged over to the far side of the room, behind Sungchan, into the kitchen. You grabbed a cup to fill with water, then drained it down your throat just as fast as it had been filled.

With water in your body, your systems were finally coming back online. Road trip. Car ride. Your eyes widened. “Oh my god. I have to pack.”

“You haven't packed yet?” He queried, tone light and teasing as he watched the progression of your panic with amusement. “Even Jeno's packed.”

You sputtered back at him, “Quiet, you!”

Sungchan's warm laugh followed you out into the hallway and all the way to your room. You couldn't understand why your face felt so hot; you should have been too preoccupied to be embarrassed, after all.

You slammed your bedroom door shut, dragging a hand down your face. You couldn't believe Sungchan just saw your I-just-worked-for-eight-hours-in-customer-service face. Not even some of your closest friends had seen the aftermath of your night shifts at work yet.

Crazy.

It wasn't every family vacation where a plus-one was invited. Your family tried to set aside time for these trips just for the six of you, but this time was an exception. Somehow—you weren't a part of the delegations—Sungchan was invited on this summer's trip to the coast. Your mom mentioned offhandedly it was because Sungchan “was a nice boy,” or something to that effect. Your family rented out a cabin right along the beach for a week, and the lot of you were going to be stuck in the family minivan for a good eight hours together.

And if Sungchan was tagging along, that meant you were going to have to fight for the middle row seat or—

“Yn—you’re in the back with Sohee and Anton.”

You came to a screeching halt on your way out of the house, a bucket hat shielding your puffy eyes from the waking world, your duffle strapped over your shoulder. It was seven hours later—an ungodly eight in the morning. “What? Nuh-uh; I don't think so.”

Jeno stood only a few meters ahead of you by the door of the minivan, his hands primed on either side of his hips as if he was the self-proclaimed guardian of the car seating chart. “Well, I said so. Sungchan has longer legs than you—”

“Why don't you sit in the back then?” You shot back with a saccharine sweet smile. You were too tired for this shit.

Sungchan scratched the side of his head as he walked out of the house to stand by you and join the argument, his flip flops thwacking against the ground. “Uhh, I can sit in the back middle seat. It's cool, dude.”

“Sungchan's too tall for the middle seat,” your dad interjected. He took yours and Sungchan's bags to add to the trunk. “Yn's in the back. Sorry, hon.”

“Dad,” you groaned.

“You can switch with Jeno half way.”

“Dad!” Jeno squawked this time.

Your father gave a tired sigh, saying more than he would ever say aloud. “Everyone in the car. Can't you two be like Sohee and Anton? At least they're knocked out.”

“They know they'll be sent to the back without question,” you pointed out as you made your way to the minivan. As you passed by your brother, you sent him a very potent stink eye, then clambered into the back row.

Like your father had said, your younger brothers, Sohee and Anton, were already dead asleep. Their mouths hung open wide enough to catch any wayward fly with their heads angled back against their neck pillows. You snorted and snapped a photo of them to add to your collection of brotherly blackmail.

Your mom was settled into the front passenger seat already queuing up driving directions to get to the coast. From your perch in the middle, you had a clear view of her phone screen—seven hours and two minutes. Yay.

You supposed there wasn't anything too terrible about the middle seat; you were out like a light as soon as the car pulled out of the driveway.

When you woke up, it was about four hours later, and your parents were having a hushed discussion amongst themselves and Sungchan. A baseball cap had materialized on top of Sungchan's head at some point when you were asleep, and the sleeves of his T-shirt were once again rolled up to expose his muscled shoulders. Did this guy not have a tank top?

“...I like it, at least—well, I don't mind all the extra requirements, and I know it'll help me reach my ultimate end goal, so.”

Your mom let out a hum of approval. “Ah, that's good that you like it. You'll be busy as a nurse.”

Right, Sungchan was in the nursing program. Your brother wasa kinesiology major, and you were going into law. It made for quite the diverse pool in the car.

You opened your mouth in a yawn and fumbled your hand around your lap for where your earbud had fallen out of your ear, carefully so that you didn't shake off Anton's head on your shoulder. (Oh no, was he drooling?)

“Yn-ah, good morning,” your mother teased quietly.

You glanced up, eyes going wide when you realized both your mom and Sungchan were now peering back at you. “Morning,” you murmured. Your fingers enclosed around your fallen earbud to tuck it into the case left in the bag at your feet.

“Sleep well?” Sungchan piped up. There was that twinkle in his eyes, the same one from last night. It made your stomach twist in a way that was more pleasant than not.

You cleared your throat, unconsciously reaching up to adjust the placement of your bucket hat and praying you didn't look like a sewer rat. “For the most part,” you replied. “How about you?”

He shrugged. “I had a decent power nap. Your mom says you're going into law. That's really cool.”

“Oh,” you blinked. “Thanks. And you're in nursing, right? That's cool, too—super admirable.”

Sungchan's mouth widened into a small grin. “Thanks. It's only our first year, but it feels like so much work already.”

“Right? Tell me about it…”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the family van pulled into the parking lot of a diner off the interstate, exactly halfway through your journey. The seven of you, weary and hungry, filed out of the vehicle and into the establishment. You and your parents slid into one booth, while your brothers and Sungchan occupied the one behind you.

There was a low-spun fan swirling above your heads, an 80s song you vaguely recognized wafting through the air at a dull decibel. Your phone was stashed away in the bag tucked into your end of the booth seat while you idly sipped on your glass of iced water.

You jolted at the feeling of something light hitting the back of your head.

A gasp from behind you.

You rolled your eyes, twisting around in your seat while picking the wadded up straw wrapper from your hair. “Who did it?” You deadpanned.

The boys table was filled with sheepish expressions, to their credit. Your younger brothers, who were sitting on the far side facing you, thrusted their fingers in each other's faces in a torrent of blame and accusation.

“Aish, never mind. I don't care who did it,” you dismissed. Your eyes caught onto Sungchan's. He sat just diagonally to your left and for some reason, his eyes on you made you feel warm.

You flicked the wrapper back; it hit Anton square in the forehead. Jeno barked out a laugh.

“Nice shot,” Sungchan nodded, extending his fist to you.

You couldn't suppress the smile from coming onto your face as you bumped his fist with yours.

Food arrived swiftly afterward, and it was demolished as quickly as it came. In the sway of a palm tree frond, the seven of you were back in the confines of the family minivan.

The remainder of the car ride carried over quickly. Though Jeno unhappily sat his ass down in your previous spot with you claiming his from before, he and your other brothers snored away five minutes in. You didn't go back to sleep despite having a full belly and less than five hours of sleep under your belt; you watched the world pass by outside the window in a blur.

Urban skylines melted into rolling emerald mountains and pastures, sank into palm trees and sandy shores that met a blue horizon as far as the eye could see.

The beach house your family rented this year was a two story cottage-type. It was small, with only one bedroom and bathroom upstairs, a bathroom downstairs, and a living room and kitchen. The rest was all beach. It was determined that you and your mom would be given the honors of the upstairs bedroom and bathroom, while all the boys piled into the living room.

Once everyone was settled in, there was little else to do but go make use of your new backyard for the next week.

“Yn! Come on, slowpoke!” Sohee shouted at you from the shoreline with cupped hands. You saw his bare back as he splashed into the waves after Anton, who was already only a speck in your vision.

Your bare feet sank into the sand, and you wiggled your toes between the warm grains. Sunshine, glorious and concentrated above the distant horizon, soaked into your skin. Ah, this was the life.

Just as you reached for the hem of your shirt to reveal your bathing suit, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Jeno and Sungchan were coming onto the beach from the front of the house, a disassembled volleyball net hanging between them.

Your eyes nearly fell out of your head at the sight of Sungchan's back—

Before Jeno or any of your other brothers or Sungchan could catch you ogling, you gave yourself a nice, mental slap to the face. No more. You needed to stop this. When did you ever look at Sungchan like this?

(You could still remember when he was the gangly kid with the growth spurt trying out for the high school soccer team. He was paired with Jeno to test his potential, and the rest was history.)

Sungchan was the first to spot you as he and Jeno determined a place to set up the net. He beamed boyishly, his chin inclining toward you. “Hey, wanna play?”

Your eyes flickered to the corded necklace hanging from his collar and between his—Yn, shut the fuck up. “Sure,” you said simply, feigning nonchalance.

If he noticed your wandering eyes, he didn't comment. Instead, he nodded back at you. “Sick.”

You both turned back to your original tasks. Your hands went back to the bottom hem of your shirt to tug it up and off your body. (Maybe you weren't the only one with wandering eyes, though.)

You draped your clothes over the back porch railing and began making your way down to the shoreline. “I'm gonna take a dip and then come back up!” You said to Jeno and Sungchan.

“Oh, okay—ow!”

You didn't see nor hear what happened, but when you glanced back, Sungchan had his back turned to you as he furiously rubbed the back of his head, while Jeno smiled innocently.

Your older brother waved you along. “Carry on!” He said.

Walking backward for a couple steps, you shot him an incredulous look, then turned around to meet your little brothers in the ocean. Whatever.

You had been staring at the wooden ceiling above your head for the past forty-five minutes. Your mom's even breathing and the ocean waves rolling outside the window failed to rock you into unconsciousness. You'd figured the sunlight from this afternoon would have made you tired, or perhaps all the food you ate for dinner, but your eyes continued to stay wide open.

A quiet sigh fell from your mouth as you rolled over onto your side and gently peeled the covers off. With near silent footsteps across the oak floors, you slipped out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

The cacophony of combined snoring from all the men in the living room was comparable to the volume of the waves just outside.

You barely contained your snort of amusement. You didn't worry about waking any of them up as you crossed the living room, full of a smorgasbord of limbs and bodies draped across the large couch sectional and blankets on the floor.

The back door was left unlatched when you reached its threshold. Outside, moonlight dappled across the calm sea like a sprinkling of diamonds. You slowly pried the door open, freezing.

You and Sungchan made eye contact from across the back porch. He was perched on the top step, nursing a bottle of beer in his hand. A loose breeze wafted through the strands of his hair.

“Sorry,” you whispered, moving to retreat back into the house.

“Oh, no—please.” He patted the empty space next to him on the porch step.

You blinked, at odds. He was clearly out here for a reason and you'd figured he wanted some space, but if he was inviting you, then…

You closed the back door behind you and settled beside him, with a comfortable amount of negative space between your bodies. You folded your arms over the tops of your knees and stared out at the midnight horizon. It smelled of salt and sea spray, and the light wind was a refreshing crispiness against the humid evening air.

“Couldn't sleep?” He murmured, glancing over at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. You?”

He hummed in response.

“I'm not surprised,” you said. The corners of your lips curled upward. “I wouldn't be able to sleep amongst my brothers either. Their snoring could wake a bear.”

Sungchan sputtered out a laugh as his eyes crinkled upward and he pressed the back of his knuckles against his mouth. “I wasn't gonna say it, but…”

You shared a grin with him. “I will happily say it for you, dude.”

His eyes were stunning in this lighting. The moonlight hit his irises at an angle that made them shimmer like a shade of molten copper. He licked his lips, and you saw his eyes dart from your eyes, down a few inches, then further down to the beer bottle in his hands.

“Oh, uh,” he stammered, tipping the bottle nose in your direction, “want some? I thought the alcohol would help me sleep, but it's not looking awfully promising.”

For a split second, your heart leapt at the thought—your mouth pressed against the place his mouth had been, tasting the place he'd drunk from.

You dashed the thought from your mind. It couldn't have been so significant as your brain was making it out to be. You were probably just sleep deprived.

“Thanks,” you said while reaching across the gap to accept it from him. Judging by the weight, it was just about half full, and you took a light swig.

A drop of liquid dribbled out of the corner of your lips, and you swiped it with the pad of your thumb, sticking the finger into your mouth to suck it off. You passed the bottle back over to him, catching his eyes not looking at yours.

(The organ in your chest was no longer in your chest. Was it normal for your heart to make a home in your throat instead? Why did he look at you like that?)

“Any reason for not being able to sleep?” You asked him to break the silence. “I mean, besides the symphony my brothers and dad are conducting, of course.”

His eyes shuddered, as if breaking out of a trance. “Oh, uhm—nothing in particular, I guess. Maybe it's just from all the excitement. I think it's usually hard for me to sleep in new places.”

You bobbed your head in understanding. “No, I get that. It takes me a little to get used to new environments, too. I don't know how I would have survived if I was living in the dorms at uni and not at home.” The university you attended was a decent commute from your house, so living on campus was never something you gave much thought to. The idea of living independently appealed to you sometimes, but in general, you didn't have a ton of qualms against your circumstances now.

“For sure,” Sungchan whistled lowly. He contemplated the opening of his beer bottle, then took a gentle sip of its contents. “Have you made a lot of friends? I feel like it's a lot harder than people make it seem.”

You passed him a curious glance this time. “Some, but it's definitely not as easy as high school. You haven't made a lot of friends?”

“The soccer team, mainly,” he chuckled. “The occasional ally in my classes.”

You let out a bright laugh that made his smile widen. “'Ally?’” You parroted. “What a fun word to call classmates.”

“It's true!” He insisted, chuckling. “Some of these professors are evil, man. Competitive grades? Not a chance,” He scoffed. “We're all in this together, even if the curve is against us.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth to keep from being too loud, but the rolling waves likely covered your noise plenty. Your family were deep sleepers.

“I just figured that you meet lots of people,” you offered when your mirth died down to a giggle. You toed a pile of sand sitting on the last step of the porch. “Your socials are pretty active,” you said, “but I guess I shouldn't judge a book by its cover.”

“I could say the same about you, Miss Party Girl,” he smirked. “When are you gonna drag me to a rave?”

Heat raced up to your cheeks. “I've only been to one,” you said, rolling your eyes. He'd seen that post? First, the post-work daze, and now, the turnt raver? “I haven't gone to a party in a few weeks 'cause of finals anyway.”

Now that you thought about it, you'd been so busy as of late, you couldn't even count the amount of outings you'd declined on your two hands.

“Trust me, I get it.” He raised his hands in an act of surrender, his knees angling toward you. The negative space was suddenly a lot less negative.

Another tip of his beer bottle; it swapped hands once, twice more. The liquid dribbled smooth down your throat just as Sungchan knocked the rest back. The empty glass made a dull thunk sound as it hit the wooden porch to Sungchan's right.

“So what I'm getting,” you drawled, mimicking his position by angling your knees toward his. You felt your legs brush—the stimulus sent a jolt down your nerves that warned of addiction and tasted like the forbidden. “Is that you've never been to a rave before?”

Sungchan gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe I have.”

You mocked his shrug. “Maybe you have.”

“Or maybe it's just that I haven't gone with you yet.”

Even the waves seemed to quiet for a second. Your heartbeat stuttered in your chest, and you tied down the nervous laugh ready to bubble out of your mouth. You bit your lip and found yourself nodding. “We'd paint the town red, Jung Sungchan,” you murmured.

There it was again—that flicker of his gaze to some place you both knew crossed a line. It was the beer, was what you were telling yourself. It was the beer.

Seagulls surfed the ever-blue sky. Eternal summer could be thought of as a filter of golden, glittery gauze across one's already rose-colored glasses. But summer, truly, was the shade of Jung Sungchan's tank top peeling off his body as he sprinted down the sandbank after your brother, Anton.

You watched the fabric whip around in the salt breeze before settling into a heap where his footprint melted into the mineral grains. You were giving Sohee the sunscreen spritz-down up on the covered porch, while Jeno barreled down the bank after his friend and brother.

From behind you came the scratch of the back door sliding open. You and Sohee peered back to where your mom poked her head out.

She just barely caught her sunglasses in time as they slipped off her head. “Hey, your dad and I are heading out. Watch each other, okay?”

“Got it!” You and Sohee chirped.

One more nod from your mom, and then she was gone. Your parents were going to take a date into town, just the two of them. That left you and the boys here with the surf and sand—definitely not a terrible compromise. If you wanted, you could probably have the whole house to yourself, anyway. These guys could entertain themselves.

“Yn! Sohee!”

Jeno arced one arm up into the sky to beckon you down to the sea, only to get dragged underwater by his two comrades. You and Sohee harked out twin laughs as you watched Jeno fight for his life with limbs flailing and foam flying into the sky.

You patted Sohee's shoulder as you set the can of sunscreen onto the porch step. “Alrighty, you're good to go, bro.”

“Thanks—race you down!”

“Hey!” Your laughter echoed as you bolted down the sand after him to join the fun.

As your feet dug into the wet embankment, your palms made purchase against Sohee's shoulders to shove him into the water. A yelp leapt into the air, and you turned away to avoid getting hit in the face with the consequence of your prank.

“I'm so gonna get you for that!” Sohee spat water out of his mouth, a wicked grin pulling onto his lips.

“No, you're not, actually!”

You bolted—well, stomped, your way through the knee-deep water, furiously trying to get away from karma. Water yanked down on your limbs in a forceful coax to give into your punishment, but you were determined.

You could hear your brothers’ hollers of encouragement: “Get her, Sohee!” and “RUN, YN, RUN!”

Adrenaline pumped through your veins and you pushed your legs harder.

“I got her!” Wait, was that Sungchan?—

You suddenly felt a pair of hands on either side of your waist—you swore as your legs came out of the water and your world twisted.

“No, no, no, no, no!” You squawked, squirming wildly in Sungchan's arms as he scooped you into his hold like a bride. (NO. NOT LIKE A BRIDE. WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE A BRIDE?—) One arm cradled your back and the other under your knees, and he laughed—he chuckled—as you attempted to flip yourself out of his grasp.

“You're not getting out of this, party girl,” he said close to your ear.

For a heartbeat, you lost your breath at the rasp behind his words and the grin on his face. But a heartbeat was all he needed.

There was free fall, and then all sound muffled as cold water engulfed your body. You plugged your nose and screwed your eyes shut. You felt your ass hit the sand at the bottom in slow motion, before the air in your lungs began to lift you back up to the surface of the water.

You broke out with a gasp, hair flipping back as you furiously swiped your hands down your face to get the water out of your eyes. They stung like a bitch, but you could feel the rush of blood in your ears; it was thrilling.

A hand in your vision enclosed around yours.

“You asshole!” You scowled up at Sungchan from where you knelt, though it was half-hearted.

He beamed back at you boyishly with damp hair hanging in his eyes and water running down the crevices of his stomach like a goddamn system of canals. “You're a good sport, Yn.”

“I'm really not.”

You had the distinct pleasure of seeing the smile slip off his face before you used his grip on you to yank him into the water. You swallowed a good half pint of saltwater, but the revenge couldn't have been sweeter.

When Sungchan's head broke the surface, it was followed by a dog-like shake of his head. You laughed to turn away from the spray of water; Sungchan delighted at the sound.

Amusement still lingered on your lips as your eyes snagged on the piece of seaweed that made its home on his head. You didn't think twice about it before leaning closer to reach it.

You stepped forward, and—oh boy, was that a mistake.

You had a front row seat view of a droplet of water slipping down the slope of his nose, the curve of his lips, and the cliff of his chin. You wrestled down a swallow, and pulled the seaweed off his head, flinging it into the water.

“You had, uhm, a little…”

“Right, thanks—”

You both flinched apart as a man-made wave of water crashed into your sides. “AMBUSH!” Your three brothers declared, springing up out of the water and parading a full-blown attack with all weapons firing.

You and Sungchan were swift to launch your own counterattack.

Merriment filled the summer air as much as saltwater embedded into your skin and eyes and mouth. You almost made the mistake of thinking your racing heart was just from the determination to beat your brothers, and not from the guy on your side of the war. The heat was getting to you and the sun was getting to him.

It was about an hour later that you found yourself lazing upon the slick and smooth plane of a surfboard. The ocean rocked you gently from beneath the board; it had been surprisingly calm all of today.

At some point, you and the boys established a truce in the Great Water War, mainly because your brothers were hungry and there was a big, juicy watermelon just begging to be cut open and devoured in the house.

Suffice to say, you let your brothers figure it out.

Your consciousness faded into the foreground of your mind as a distant sound of splashing neared. You peaked one eye open, lifting the rim of the hat up to see who dared to encroach upon your isle.

You could recognize Sungchan's mop of hair from a mile away, at this point. You couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing, but why did it have to be either?

He cropped up right beside you, pushing back his hair to keep the water out of his eyes. “Hi.”

A smile curled onto your lips, teasing. “Hi. Good swim?”

“Good nap?”

“As good as one can be on the open ocean,” you said, shifting the hat up so you could see him better, but keeping your face shaded. “I don't know how dolphins sleep with half their brain on.”

Sungchan's brows rocketed toward his hairline. “They sleep with half their brain on? Crazy.”

“I know. I can't even stay awake with half my brain on.”

You and he shared a laugh, and he set a palm on the board next to your body. “Aw, no,” he assured. “If you've got less than half a brain on at all times, then I've got one brain cell.”

“Joke's on you, half my brain is half a brain cell.”

He wrinkled his nose at you. Cute. “Sweetheart, hate to break it to you, but that's not how brain cells work.”

You nearly fell off the board. “Okay, Mr. Know-it-all, do tell.”

“I'm not about to talk about neurons on my vacation.”

You challenged him with a look. “Overruled, counselor. Answer the question.”

His mouth fell open in a stunned daze, and his reaction made you break face for a moment to laugh. He blinked. “I have to be really honest with you…” Sungchan carded a hand through his hair, then pressed his knuckles to his mouth. “That was really hot.”

Was it suddenly five degrees warmer out here?

If blood rushing in your ears was akin to the sound of waves crashing, there must have been one hell of a tsunami in your veins right now.

You sputtered a laugh. “You need to get out of the sun—”

“I'm sorry I said that aloud,” he grimaced sheepishly.

“Nurse? Nurse!—” You feigned raising your head up to look around for an imaginary nurse in the middle of the ocean. “Oh, right. You are the nurse.”

He groaned, tilting his head back and playfully punching your shoulder. “You're so—”

“Hot?”

You howled at the sight of his cheekbones blooming the color of ripe watermelon. “I'm kidding; I'm teasing!”

He sighed, smiling despite the pain etched onto his gorgeous features. “Never living that down, am I?”

You shifted your position to laying on your stomach now, your arms folded beneath your chin. Sungchan carefully turned the surfboard so the tip faced him, and you were trapped in his gaze, head-on. “It was cute,” you consoled.

“So you think I'm cute?” He cocked a brow.

“And you think I'm hot.”

He flicked water at you. “Aaand, there it is!”

You laughed again, delighted at the red lingering on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. God, he was fucking gorgeous.

A beat passed for a second. Something settled between the two of you, a thing you couldn't yet put a name on, but it had been there since last night. Or maybe it had been there longer, festering in the negative space between you until said space could become something of a memory.

You weren't sure why he was here—why he'd swum out here to meet you when his best friend was back at the beach house, gorging on watermelon and getting his ass handed to him in Mario Kart by his siblings; why he all of a sudden occupied a part of your mind like the tide creeping up the embankment at four in the afternoon. At first, he was far enough for you to settle into a false sense of security; until all of a sudden, there he was, the foamy waves lapping at your feet and his smile the only thing you could see when you closed your eyes.

His tongue swiped over his lips and he cleared his throat. “So, uh, watermelon?” That was his original reason for coming out here. (He did volunteer, after all.)

You perked up. “Right, sure. Watermelon.”

“Great.” He broke into a smile, but the corners of it were softer, fonder. You could get used to the look of it.

There was this saying—the elephant in the room—but here in the cabin living room, it was definitely more of a blue whale. Just completely out of the water, weighing about thirteen tons, the size of twelve school buses… yeah, that sounded about right.

“GO FISH!” Anton flung his finger across the circle at Jeno with the glee of a kid on Christmas morning. “Suck it!”

Your mom sent an express glare his way. “Anton.”

Your youngest shrunk down sheepishly. “Sorry, eomma.”

The seven of you were settled in the living space this fine evening with a deck of cards. Your parents were on the couches watching the movie on screen and the game before them, while you, your brothers, and Sungchan huddled around the coffee table playing said game. Sunsoaked and weary, it only took one hearty and filling dinner to perk the lot of you right back up like a field of sunflowers.

“This is a stupid game,” Jeno sulked as he examined his hand of cards.

“You only say that because you're losing,” you pointed out. “Anyways, Jeno, can I have that three?”

Jeno cut you a glare as the rest of the table rolled into fits of laughter. Your smile was cheeky, reaching out to snatch the three Jeno revealed he had during his turn.

“That's cold,” Sohee snorted.

Your eyes darted over to Sungchan opposite you. His eyes were glimmering. “Yeah, I didn't know you had so much ruthlessness in you, Yn.”

“Why do you think she's going into law?” Jeno grunted. Though one card less, it meant that he had one less pair in his finished pile. At this rate, you might win and end up with the most pairs.

“Guys, it's literally just how you play the game.” You nodded over at Sohee. “Sohee, do you have a jack?”

Your younger brother handed it over without ceremony. “Unfortunately.”

“Anton, do you have an ace?”

He shook his head. “Go fish, noona.”

“See?” You said to the rest of the table, but your eyes went to Sungchan's. “The nature of the game.”

They let you off the hook because you didn't plunder everyone of their cards this round. It continued on with Sohee, then Anton, before landing on Sungchan.

He made a show of considering his cards, a furrow between his brows. He glanced up at you over the rim of his hand and gestured with a curl of his fingers. “I'd like that ace, Yn.”

“Oooh,” Anton giggled.

Jeno grinned as you extended the ace across the table to Sungchan. “Karma.”

“Thank you—” his fingers grazed against yours as he plucked the card from your grasp, “—very much.”

You pressed your lips into a small smile, nose wrinkling up at him. You had a few cards left to rid yourself of.

Your dad cleared his throat as he stood up from the couch to bring his empty bowl to the sink. “By the way, are you kids still going into town tomorrow?”

The five of you exchanged brief eye contact with one another. “Yep.”

The idea had come up during dinner after your parents came back. They'd mentioned a variety of activities and little shops to visit that might be fun for you to see, including a hand churned ice cream shop and a port side arcade building. It would just be the five of you going, while your parents would walk down to the beach trails about a mile from the cabin to go hiking.

In the morning, you and everyone else in the house took your time getting up and ready for the day. Breakfast was taken together at the table before you split off into your separate parties.

Jeno took the wheel with Sungchan riding shotgun, and you sat in the middle row with Sohee, while Anton occupied the back. You rolled down your window to rest your chin on the fold of your elbow, your sunglasses slipping down the bridge of your nose as you watched the scenery pass by.

Right in front of you, Sungchan also had his window rolled down with his arm propped on the lowered sill. He chatted animatedly with Jeno about whatever game he and all three of your brothers were playing this morning, but you could feel his gaze go to his side view mirror more than once.

The ride was an easy, breezy one.

The main town center bustled with locals and visitors alike in the late morning. Jeno found free parking about a block away, and the five of you walked over as one big group.

“Ice cream first!” Anton declared with one arm raised toward the sky.

“I concur,” you chimed in. You lifted your sunglasses up slightly so you could read the town directory easier. “Seems like we're close by.”

Anton nodded in approval. “Onwards, then.”

You and your youngest brother led the way. The idea of ice cream made your mouth water, especially since you could already feel a bead of sweat dribble down your spine. Why was it so goddamn hot?

The shop was a cute, little building with a pink and white striped awning and a large window in the front that gave visitors a front row view into the ice cream churning experience. You snorted as Anton pressed his nose up against the glass, a wide grin splitting his face.

“You're scaring the workers, dude,” you jested, tugging your brother along.

Anton scrunched his nose up at you. “You scare me every morning.”

“Just because you're a wimp when I put toner pads on—hey! Do you want ice cream or not?” You cackled as he attempted to flick you square in the forehead.

Jeno groaned. “Guys, can we please act normal for once?” He asked as he swung the door open for everyone.

Sungchan beat you to the punchline, slapping his friend on the back while he ducked inside. “That's rich coming from you, man.”

“Hey!”

The squabble was swiftly swept out of your mind when you stepped foot into the shop. You were nearly knocked over from the potency of the sugary waffle cone scent that occupied the room. At the sight of tubs upon tubs of frozen treats kept within the display case, your entire face lit up, eyes going glassy with wonder. “Oh no, too many to choose from,” you gasped, cupping the lower half of your face.

Sungchan chuckled beside you as he crossed his arms and assessed the dozen options before you. “I didn't know you were such an ice cream fanatic, party girl,” he mused. He glanced over at you with a fond sort of gleam in his eye.

“Don't even get her started,” Sohee groaned. “She and Anton have a sweet tooth to rival Willy Wonka.”

Anton flagged down one of the workers, having already found his targets to try. He was in here for less than two minutes and was already rattling off the entire menu to the poor girl behind the counter.

“Tiramisu sounds really good,” you muttered. Your eyes moved slowly from tub to tub. Another gasp flew from your lips, and you clasped a hand on Sungchan's shoulder. “Wait—but strawberry shortcake—hhhhh.” You wrinkled your brows together, lips pressed into a taut line.

This was not good.

“You could always get a double scoop,” Sungchan suggested.

You bobbed your head. “That's true, but I'm just worried I won't be able to finish, y'know.”

“Well, maybe I'll get one of the flavors you want and we can split.” His shrug was all too casual.

“Really?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said, biting his lip through a smile.

The organ in your chest gave a hop, skip, and a leap. You weren't sure if it was at the thought of it all working out alright or if it was because of Sungchan's generous gesture. You were telling yourself it was the former, but you could be persuaded it was the latter if given a light shove in that direction.

When everyone's scoops were paid for, you fell into a loose formation to stroll around town while you finished your treats.

You and Sungchan were glued to each other's sides out of necessity since you were sharing flavors. Jeno walked on his other side, however, lapping at his cotton candy blue scoop seated upon a throne of waffle cone. The two youngest walked in front, leading you all to wherever they wished to go.

The town itself was rather quaint when you finally soaked it in. It seemed like the kind of place everyone knew everyone, and if you were new or only visiting, the locals were just as friendly and welcoming. The town center was stocked with anything a resident might need—a small grocer down the street, clothing stores and restaurants lining the boulevard, a newspaper stand at the corner, a laundromat, a hardware store, and more places you were certain you wouldn't be able to see in just one walk.

As you scooped a bite out of some of the last bits of tiramisu in Sungchan's cup, Jeno was summoned up to his brothers who were debating over which way they should turn next. You and Sungchan lingered behind to finish off the ice cream in your respective cups.

Just as you slurped up the melted shortcake ice cream at the bottom of yours, your eyes caught onto a storefront behind Sungchan. It was decked out in cliché boho-chic, with braided nets, shells, and sand dollars in the window and over the door frame. The souvenir shop seemed to embody the quintessential tourist trap, and you didn't mind falling into it.

“—guys, we're gonna go to the arcade now!” Jeno said, beckoning you and Sungchan over. They must have decided on a route then.

You made your decision. “You guys can go ahead! I'm gonna pop into this place for a second. I promised I'd get my friend Minjeong something.” Minjeong was one of the few close friends you made at university, and though you didn't promise to her face you'd get her something, you were determined to get her a little trinket as a token of your affection.

“You're gonna go alone?”

You blinked. “Yeah, I'll just meet you guys at the arcade.”

Sohee piped up, “But mom said buddy system.” Okay, you should probably honor that, but it wasn't as if the four of you always followed that rule.

“I'll go with you.”

All eyes went to Sungchan who tossed his empty cup and spoon into the nearby trash can. He gave a nonchalant lift of his shoulders. “I wanted to get my mom something anyway.”

You tilted your head to the side curiously as Jeno narrowed his eyes at Sungchan, like they were communicating telepathically. Odd.

In fact, you didn't really know what to think about being alone with Sungchan. There was a difference between coincidentally ending up on the porch together or conversing in the ocean away from everyone else, to purposefully breaking off from the group to spend time with each other.

Then again, he said he was getting something for his mom. That gave a different implication to him volunteering to accompany you. The goal was capitalism, not something forbidden.

Maybe you were thinking about this too much.

“Okay, fine,” Jeno relented. “We'll meet you at the arcade, but don't take too long or we'll leave without you.”

“Aye-aye,” you teased, raising a hand to wave goodbye to your brothers. “C'mon, Sungchan.”

You dumped your empty ice cream cup and spoon into the trash before slipping inside the souvenir shop with Sungchan following right after you. You lifted your sunglasses up on top of your head, skin prickling with gooseflesh from the draft of air conditioning wafting overhead. A soft-toned acoustic played in the background, accompanied by the cheery greeting of a staff member from behind the register.

You and Sungchan lifted your hands in warm reply, then disappeared into the aisles to explore.

Your fingers grazed along the racks of clothes branded with the beach town's name and minimalist artwork; your eyes roamed over the ships displayed in bottles on the walls, the not-for-sale surfboard hung for decor. Like many souvenir shops, there were several turning displays that boasted rows upon rows of themed keychains with specific names engraved into them.

“I will never find my name amongst these,” Sungchan mused quietly from beside you as the two of you rifled through the surfboards and seashells and sharks. “And yet, I look for the S names all the time.”

“Valid,” you nodded. “Sometimes I can't find my name either, but it's the hope that gets you.”

“And fails you,” he pointed out.

“Touché.”

Near the keychain displays stood a tower of hats and head accessories galore. There were crocheted bonnets, straw hats, ball caps, and even headbands. Your expression glittered as you plucked up a headband with twin sunflowers on the top like a pair of antennas.

After hanging your shades on your shirt color, you donned the headpiece, twirling around to show Sungchan. “Thoughts?” You asked, failing to sweep your grin away.

Sungchan beamed back at you. “Oh, you're too cute.”

You ignored the heat creeping up the back of your neck to reach for another headband—this time, one topped with red crab claws. Sungchan graciously bowed his head for you to crown him with the piece.

“Fabulous,” you declared with your hands on your hips.

He peered into the small mirror to the side of the hat rack. “You think?”

“Of course.” So much so, that you pulled out your phone to snap a picture. You tilted your head toward his to fit both of your faces and headbands in the frame.

Sungchan peered over your shoulder to take a glimpse at the photos. His tongue was jammed into his cheek, and you could feel his breath along the shell of your ear. “Send me those?”

“I'd need your number first.”

He grinned boyishly, roughing a hand through his hair before taking your phone from you. “You don't even have to ask.”

As he saved his contact information into your phone, you attempted to calm the giddy butterflies in your stomach by peering back into the mirror at the headband on your head. You squished the plush sunflower heads with your fingers, humming thoughtfully. “I low-key wanna buy this.”

He glanced up from your phone before handing it back to you. “If you buy that one, I'll buy this one,” he replied, pointing up at the crab claws on his head.

“You're such an enabler,” you jested. A beat passed. “Okay, but only if you get it with me.”

“That is what I said,” he chuckled, eyebrows arched.

The remainder of the time you and Sungchan spent in the shop was mainly to figure out what you would purchase for Minjeong and what Sungchan would buy for his mom. (Mainly, implying that there was still room for shenanigans.) It took a little more than half an hour, but you both emerged from the souvenir shop with a gift bag each, containing your headbands and the baubles bought.

The arcade was only about a ten minute's walk from your location, so you and Sungchan took your sweet time getting there. As the two of you walked—the backs of your hands grazing against one another, shoulders bumping—you nearly forgot that Sungchan was your brother's good friend. Jeno had never made it a point that you and his friends should never mix, and you knew he could care less about your love life, but this was different. (Was it?) It felt like something that shouldn't happen, and yet, why were you starting to want it so badly?

The outside of the arcade was a cream colored building, much like the others in town, but with large posters on the outside beckoning guests to come in and try their hand. Your brothers texted you to let you know they were in a game of laser tag right now, so that gave you and Sungchan a little more time to yourselves within the arcade.

“I have an idea!” Sungchan grabbed your free hand and hauled you off toward something in the distance.

The feeling of your fingers slotting with his had more than just your steps skipping. “Hey, man—you and your long legs need to chill!” You hollered at him through a laugh.

He sent you a look over his shoulder before stopping at one corner of the arcade. With jazz hands, he presented his marvelous idea. “Ta-da!”

Before you was an all-time classic: Dance Dance Revolution.

Your eyes widened just as your smile did. “It's like you read my mind,” you marveled.

The machine was just like the movies with a multicolored screen of bright blues and purples, a platform with two sets of arrows in the floor, and two arched rails at the back for each player to hold onto as they danced the night away.

Sungchan marched up onto the platform and fished a wadded up paper bill out from his wallet. “Have you played before?”

When the machine devoured his money, the screen leapt to life and blasted its opening music to announce that somebody was willing to step up to the challenge.

You set your gift bag down at the foot of the platform and climbed up to join him. “I've only seen it done before, but I've always wanted to try it.”

You and he locked eyes, and you were sure the twinkle in his was a reflection of just how excited you were.

“Well, today is your lucky day, party girl,” he chirped. “Let's see what you've got.”

It didn't take long for you to figure out that “what you've got” was a lot less than whatever Sungchan had.

You grappled onto the railing behind you tightly as you stomped your feet against the coordinating arrows that flashed on-screen. How long had it been since that fateful first round? Ten minutes? Two days? It was all mashing together.

“This is unfair; you have longer limbs,” you groaned after missing a few arrows in a row. Why were you so out of breath?

A bead of sweat dribbled down the side of Sungchan's head. It was almost comical how serious you were both taking this game. “I have practice,” he corrected cheekily.

“Same difference!”

“A master never blames his tools.”

You huffed. “Bullshit.”

At this point, your losses were becoming ridiculous. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

For a sequence you knew you were going to miss, you leaned over and pinched his side. Sungchan jolted—it did the trick, and he missed the steps. His head whipped over to you, an impish gleam in his irises.

“Oh ho ho… you wanna play that game?”

You placed your hand on your hip as the round ended. “If I'm gonna lose, might as well go out with a bang.”

His tongue swiped over his lip. “You're on.”

The next round commenced, and adrenaline spiked through you like a spear, more powerful than before. You knew to expect Sungchan's revenge, but you struck first.

A poke at his side resulted in a tickle at your waist. You returned his parry with a blind poke at his stomach.

Anticipating his response, you spotted his arm incoming out of your periphery and moved to step out of his reach. Instead of solid platform, however, your breath hitched at the feeling of half your sandal slipping off the edge.

Sungchan's eyes went wide and his arm instead curled around your waist and hauled you to him. “Shit,” he muttered, “are you okay? Sorry, that was totally my fault.”

Your palms had landed on his chest, your heart rate slowing but not fast enough. All of the excitement in your veins was likely more so from the game itself, and not from almost falling off the platform… and perhaps, another part of it was you realizing just how close you and Sungchan were now.

You nodded. “Yeah, I'm completely fine; don't even worry about it. And it wasn't your fault—I miscalculated my step and I started it anyway.”

He pressed his lips together. “Still.”

“Nice catch, by the way,” you said quietly.

You saw his eyes leave your gaze, and this time, you followed in his movements. He ducked his head, almost shyly. “I guess so,” he chuckled. “I'm glad I caught you.”

If anything, your heartbeat was gaining speed again. The hand pressed into your waist was a little more addicting than you would have liked, and his mouth was closer than you thought it had been.

In the neon glow of the Dance Dance Revolution screen, you and Sungchan leaned toward one another with one aim, and one aim only.

“Hey guys!”

You leapt off the dance platform at the same time that Sungchan zipped to his side, gripping the railing with an expression akin to a deer caught in headlights.

You pressed a hand against your palpitating heart and turned to find all three of your brothers bounding over to where you and Sungchan were.

“Oh my god,” Anton gasped, “is that DDR?”

It seemed that Anton and Sohee were more focused on the game than yours and Sungchan's compromising position. But Jeno… you noted the suspicious narrowing of his eyes, his arms crossed over his chest…

You swore you and Sungchan swallowed at the same time.

“Did we interrupt something?” Jeno drawled.

“Nope!”

You and Sungchan looked at each other at your simultaneous answer. Great. That definitely wasn't even more conspicuous or anything.

Jeno pressed his lips together. “Uh-huh,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, Mom and Dad texted and asked for us to meet them at the house, so we've gotta go.” He lifted the screen of his phone up for you to see. Dear god, you hadn't even realized they'd texted the group chat.

You cleared your throat. “Right.”

You picked up your gift bag, and your younger brothers immediately flanked you on either side to gush about the game of laser tag they had just partaken in. Though you nodded and engaged in their conversation, your mind was elsewhere.

Plus, it was hard not to be hyper aware of the fact that Sungchan was now alone to face Jeno somewhere behind you. You were not looking forward to the car ride back.

There were always some, unspoken fine lines that should not be crossed—at least, purposefully. In retrospect, you knew Jeno didn't care about who you chose to spend your time with, as long as they treated you right. In the same vein, you didn't care much about what he thought when it came to your own decisions, and yet, you found yourself caring a little more because this was one of his friends. Not yours.

But feelings were feelings… and you were slowly coming to terms with yours.

It was like déjà vu when you crept down the stairs in the dead of night for the second time this vacation. You simply could not bear staring at that wooden ceiling any longer with your mind reeling from this afternoon's events.

The living room was yet again a cacophony of light snoring, and you crossed the room toward the back door once more.

You paused again, the sight of Sungchan's back a familiar one. Instead of sitting on the porch steps, though, he leaned against the railing, gazing out at the dark waves. It was yet another calm night out on the embankment, but the moon tonight was hidden away behind a few wisps of cirrus clouds.

He glanced over his shoulder at you. “Hey.”

“Hey,” you greeted softly, gently closing the door behind you so you could join him at the railing. It was funny how you both were on the same wavelength. Fate had a funny way of encouraging you.

You and he hadn't properly spoken since the arcade, and Jeno hadn't said a word about it to you either. Dinner had gone on normally enough, so you were unsure of where this all stood.

“I wanted,” Sungchan began, “to talk to you about something.”

You glanced over at him and found his eyes already on you. “Sure, of course.”

He straightened, gesturing to the sandy beach beyond. “Walk with me?”

You nodded and followed him down the porch steps. Your feet met the cool grains of sand, and a sense of calm seeped into your bones from the bottom up.

A hand outstretched in your vision, uncertain. You clasped your hand in his palm, and the pair of you began to walk. You couldn't recall whether you began to adore the feeling of your hand wrapped up in his earlier or just now.

“So…” you trailed off.

“So,” he picked up. “About earlier today. I wanted to, uhm, make sure we were on the same page about something.”

He stopped you both when you were a good distance from the house, where the waves slipped along the sand louder than the snores.

“I had a really fun time with you today,” he said.

You nodded your head in earnest. “I had a great time with you, too.”

He smiled then, hand letting go of yours to drag over his face. “I'm—I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, and you were sure he was trying to hide his growing giddiness.

You reached over and gently pried his hands away from his face. “Did Jeno talk to you about today? Did he say anything?” Before he could reply, you added, “Because I know he means well, but who I choose to spend my time with is my decision. If he can't handle us together, then he'll have to learn to suck it up.”

“He did say something to me about it,” Sungchan admitted, “but it was just to make sure I wasn't playing around.” With his hands locked in yours, he gave your palms a reassuring squeeze. “And Yn, I'd like to take you out sometime—properly. No playing around.”

No more toeing the line in the sand.

Your heart rattled violently in your chest. “I'd really like that.”

His expression melted into something tender, like the dark swirls of molten chocolate in the scoop of tiramisu ice cream. His thumb grazed over the back of your hand. “Okay,” he murmured, barely audible over the soft laps of the waves, “good.”

He considered you for a moment longer, teeth digging into his bottom lip. “I also—I did intend on kissing you earlier today, and I probably should have prefaced it, but—mmmh!”

You looped your arms around his neck and pulled his mouth over to yours. He sank into your hold with a content hum, his hands slipping around your waist to tug you closer to him. You'd never really thought about what kissing Jung Sungchan would be like, but you knew that your imagination couldn't have been better than this.

When you broke apart with your foreheads pressed against each other and sharing breathing air, you let out a small laugh. The sound coaxed a warm chuckle out of your counterpart.

“Sorry,” you breathed against his lips, “I probably should have asked first.”

He smiled against you. “You can apologize by kissing me again.”

He most certainly didn't have to tell you twice.

a/n: pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! (idek if that was good, im off my Game and off my Rocker dkfnrj)

m.list

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#kflixnet #riize x reader #jung sungchan x reader #riize oneshots #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize scenarios #riize drabbles #sungchan oneshot #sungchan fluff #sungchan drabbles #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios

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millervrse · 10 months ago

Text

A SECOND CHANCE ! joel miller x reader

summary: Joel was sent by Marlene to come find you and bring you to Saint Mary’s. You are the only human aside from Ellie Williams who has been bitten and not turned: You are the only way that a cure can be created where no blood is shed. But to do that, you’ll have to warm up to the hardass that is Joel goddamn Miller.

pairing: joel miller x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, so minors dni, occurs after the plot of the first tlou, but before joel gets ellie out of saint mary’s, some canon facts are changed for the sake of this story, ENEMIES TO LOVERS! reader has a heavily established backstory that is to be explored throughout the series, game references (tess, the fireflies, sarah, the general plot of the game, etc). implied age gap. reader’s just as tough as joel, if not worse! warnings will change and be updated as the series progresses.

word count: 2.8k+

LYN SPEAKING! alright, hey! i’m lyn, and i’ve had this idea in the back of my mind for close to a year now (yes, a year) and baby FINALLY finished the first installment of this series i plan to work on based on it. i sincerely hope this is well received! if you want to know when i update this series, please let me know, and i will kindly tag you. also, if you have any ideas as to where this story can go, my inbox is wide open! alright now, buckle up and enjoy!

PART I: IMMUNE

“If there’s no way for you to do this where Ellie lives,” Joel said, a dark gruffness to his voice as the words leave his lips. “Then it ain’t happenin’. I swear it.”

Joel Miller and Ellie Williams had been through hell and back to deliver her to the Fireflies. People had died along the way, close to the pair or not, and sacrifices had been made for the greater good. But now, as they stood at the end of the line, Joel realized that there was no greater good, and that they hadn’t been to hell.

Because this was it.

Joel stood defensively before Marlene, the woman who was the reason this was happening in the first place. The Fireflies wanted to make a cure for the virus that had taken their world by surprise twenty years ago. One that would cure the infected of their curse, to bring them back to the human beings that they once were. But to do that, Joel would have to make the biggest sacrifice of them all.

Losing Ellie.

He couldn’t bear to lose a second daughter, not when he had already given his all to have her. To keep her. Not when he had already lost Sarah in his arms all those years ago. No, no, no. Sarah had been unfairly shot, unfairly killed, and Joel was powerless to help her.

That wouldn’t be the case with Ellie.

He stood in front of an unconscious Ellie now, laid out over a bed in the hospital he had delivered her to. He had managed his way in here by narrowly avoiding Firefly personnel. But just as he was about to flee, Marlene and several soldiers behind her had him cornered every which way.

“Joel—“ Marlene did her best. But Joel didn’t want to hear it.

“No,” he barked, gun trained on the brunette. It didn’t matter if this ended in flames. It didn’t matter if he died. If he was doing it for Ellie, then he’d do it again and again, in this life and the next. “If there is no scenario where this little girl survives, it is not, happening.”

There’s a pause, a look of delay in Marlene’s eyes as she looks at Joel. She debated. Should she tell him? Should she reveal a secret she had been holding back since he had taken this assignment nearly a year ago?

This was no time to hang back.

“There’s one.”

That, was the moment in time when Joel Miller learned about you.

A girl, who had also been bitten, and not turned. A girl, whose history Marlene refused to delve too deeply into. A girl, who could be the cure to the cure, where nobody died.

Where Ellie lived.

“Where do I find her?”

———————————————————————

That’s how he had gotten here.

A noise sounds from behind you as you're readying to go and hunt for food in your house in Vermont, alongside a brief patrol to make sure that no infected were lurking by. You’re quick to tense when the sound fills your ears, grabbing the crossbow that was on the counter near you, the one that you’d thankfully just loaded, and whipping around.

A man who looked much older than you stood in the doorframe. He was tall with tousled hair, a green, wrinkled shirt mirroring his gruff demeanor. Your gaze darkened at the sight. You hadn’t seen a human being in a millennia. Let alone one that you hated to admit, was handsome.

You didn’t let that deter you, however, raising your crossbow higher and aiming it at him.

"You've got five seconds to tell me what you're doing here,” your voice firmly rang out as you drew the bow. Thank God you’d always been a natural at aiming. “Or I'll put one between your eyes.”

The man put his hands up, though his face remained neutral as he stood in place, as if to show he wasn’t afraid of you. “Easy does it,” he rasped, his voice as gruff as he looked. “I’m not here to hurt’cha.”

“Then, leave,” you returned. “This doesn’t have to end in blood. And if you get any fucking closer, I promise you, it will.”

“Well, aren’t you a ray of sunshine,” the man said in jest, causing you to draw your arrow back more, a warning for him to watch his tone. A sigh escaped his lips as his shoulders tensed at the gesture, closing his eyes and opening them to meet yours. “Look. I was sent here to find you. Alright? I just need to talk.”

This wasn’t going to be easy for Joel, was it?

Your aim never wavered as you responded. Your first thought was what the fuck was he talking about, but the curse doesn’t make the cut as you answer. “Sent by who?”

A pause.

“Marlene.”

You tense.

“She said you’d know her.”

Oh, you fucking know her, alright. Who the fuck was this man and how the fuck did he know about you and Marlene? It’s impossible, you think. That was years ago. This man was lying.

Right?

“Marlene?” you scoffed, your voice shaking. “That’s bullshit. I haven’t spoken to Marlene in years, and she sure as hell wouldn’t be sending anyone to find me,” you return, the furrow already present in your eyebrows deepening, eyes drowning in suspicion. “Who are you, really?”

The man doesn’t move, instead keeping his arms raised like he’s some sort of peace offering. “The name’s Joel, Joel Miller, and I swear on my life that what I’m tellin’ you is true,” he said. When he took note of the apprehension in your expression, he lowered his voice, letting it relax into one that was meant to make you feel calm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Alright? Just let me explain.”

It didn’t help.

You wanted to shoot this man already, with every fiber of your being. Your trust issues were rattling like fireworks in your brain, telling you that he was a liar, that he was trying to get you vulnerable, catch you off guard. But against your better judgment, you nodded, hanging fire for him to go on.

"There's a, uh, little girl. Her name's Ellie. About a year ago, Marlene asked me and a friend o’mine to smuggle her out of Boston, where we were, in exchange for some guns. We agreed. But Marlene didn’t tell us why,” Joel began, sighing before going on. “Come to find out, little girl was infected, but the bite was three weeks old.”

A pause.

“She was immune.”

You tense again, like you had been over and over again since Joel had walked into your house. That word, that fucking word. That word that made your blood run cold. Made your head spin. Made horrid memories rush to the front of your brain.

Immune.

You raised your eyebrows at Joel in disbelief of the three words that had just fled his lips. “That’s impossible,” you said. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not,” he returned a little too quickly. “I was thinkin’ the same way you are. Ready to kill her right there and then when I found out. Thought Marlene set us up, knew it was only a matter of time before she’d turn and catch us by surprise. But the little girl, Ellie, wasn’t lyin.”

You grimace. A fucking little girl. You didn’t even want to ask how old she was.

Because if this was going where you thought it was, then your heart was going to ache a whole lot more.

“Our journey had its ups and downs. We had to reroute over and over again. Fireflies can be pretty damn hard to find these days. But we ended up finding out that most of the ones who were remaining, were in Utah, holed up in some medical center. Ready to make a cure.”

Joel was about to go on, keep explaining. But he didn’t have to.

You cut him off.

“I’ve heard this one before,” you laughed, but it wasn’t one of amusement, let alone humorous at all. It was one of disbelief, because how in the fuck had the universe spared you that day, just to bring it back to your feet? A scoff escapes your lips, and you sigh, pushing your tongue into your cheek before answering. “Saint Mary’s, isn’t it?”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows. “How’d-” he said in confusion, wondering if he had accidentally let it slip a few minutes ago in his hasty battle to keep an arrow out of his brain. “How’d you know?”

It’s your turn to be confused. If Marlene had really sent this man all this way to come find you, you figured she wouldn’t have spared him the details on the true nature of your connection, or lack thereof, to Marlene. “Are you kidding me? I’ve lived this,” you say, a bit of malice behind your words as you raise your bow. “And if you think I’m going to go through that again, you better think fucking twice,” you warned.

Joel scoffed, undeterred by your threatened show of violence. He had seen scarier in his over twenty years in the apocalypse, and he was sure that if you wanted to shoot him, which you were more than capable of doing, you would have done it by now. "Little lady, I am not asking you too, alright? There's more to it."

Your expression doesn’t get any more welcoming, much to Joel’s annoyance. “Then you better get to talking, because I’m dying for an excuse to shoot you. Pun intended.”

Killing a bloater is easier than suppressing an eye roll at your words.

"Look, that girl and her bite, Marlene thinks that the head surgeon over at the Fireflies could fix up a cure. A cure for mankind. But she can’t undergo the surgery alone, not unless, unless—”

You finish for him.

“Not unless she dies.”

Joel nods, his feelings too grim to ask how you know that. He was sure that there’d be lots to uncover about you, that is, if you agreed to come back to Utah alongside him. “Right. And Marlene said, that if I found you, there’s a chance you could undergo the surgery with Ellie. And she’d survive.”

You take his words in, mulling them over in your head. The survivor in you was screaming to not let your feelings take hold. That no matter how desperate this man was for you to come with him, you would have to decline. But your conscious, the moral part of you that somehow persevered no matter how cruel this world had been to you, was bellowing. It wasn’t fair, what was happening to that little girl. It wasn’t fair that she would have to die to fix a world that was arguable beyond fixing.

But then again, what had happened to you was unfair too. And so was this unexpected arrival.

“You’re asking me to leave the comfort of my own home, travel across the damn country, go off with a man I don’t fucking know, all for a goddamn chance?” you asked. There was no violence behind your words this time. Just disbelief, incredulousness. “Who the fuck do you think I am?”

Joel never lowered his hands as he spoke. “Look, I know you’re uncertain, and I would be too. But this girl, Ellie, she—” he paused, doing his best to maintain his composure. “I just can’t lose her, okay? I can’t.”

Now your face relaxes, if only a little bit. You can see the raw and vulnerable look in Joel’s eyes, the gloss to his brown eyes that shines in the dim light of your house.

“You’ve grown attached to this girl, haven’t you?”

Joel Miller was a tough man. Feelings weren’t in the cards for him. Not since Tess, not since Sarah. And for the love of God, if he could turn them off and never feel again, it’s likely that he would. So for now, he doesn’t tell you how much Ellie really means to him, returning to the cold approach he took on the world before he met her. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I have, not that that matters,” he dismisses. “Point is, lady, if I have to drag you out of here kickin' and screamin', I will. But I ain't leavin' without’cha."

You scoffed. "You don't even know my name."

Well, for some reason, you figured he didn’t. But just then, he said it, proving you wrong in seconds.

“Ain’t it?”

Don’tfeeldon’tfeeldon’tfeel.

You and this man were more alike than you knew.

Rolling your eyes, you speak up once again, pushing your feelings down into the gutter where they belong. “Let me tell you this, Miller. I gave up the hope a long time ago that there was anyone else out there like me, and so did Marlene. Why in the hell should I believe you?" you ask.

Joel parts his lips to speak, but words don’t come out. You were right. He had given you no reason to believe him, to trust him, and especially not, like you’d said, to leave the comfort of your own home and join him on his quest to save mankind, to save Ellie, if she was actually fucking real.

There’s a brief pause before he answers. "I don't know how else I can convince you. I can't, to be honest. But Ellie, she needs you. I can't let her die."

You paused for a second, allowing his words to sink in. God, you were apprehensive, but he, he was adamant. And the look in his eyes was tearing your survivalist ideologies to the ground.

"Saint Mary’s ain't close,” you say.

Joel’s eyes light up. It’s not a yes, but it’s hope. "I know,” he says. “I've got a car."

"A car?" you asked in shock. What more did this man have up his sleeve? You hadn't seen a working car in years. They weren’t easy to come by, and even if they were, gas was a major aspect of why nobody had cars anymore. Marlene and the Fireflies used to always have them, but because it’d been so long since you’d last seen her or a Firefly in general, you couldn't actually remember the last time you'd driven one.

"Yeah, it's a means of gettin’ around, kind of like-" Joel began. Annoyedly, you cut him off.

Did you really look that young?

"I know what a car is,” you said in annoyance. “Haven't seen one in years. You really have one?"

Joel decided to ignore your offended response, though it was hard to suppress a smirk at just how offended you’d gotten. "Yeah, I do. I told you, I'm not lyin'. Not about the car, not about Marlene, and not about Ellie. I promise.”

Promise.

You had it engraved in your brain that the word promise was a synonym for lie. It was just a kinder, less harsh way of putting it. But regardless, they were bullshit. Promises weren’t real. This wasn’t real. Joel wasn’t real.

You want to pinch your arm to make sure. Then you realize you’ve never had dreams this vivid.

You hated your face for the way it relaxed. You hated the fact that you could hear the genuineness in his tone, the converse of lies in his gruff demeanor. You hated the way your crossbow unconsciously lowered.

And you were going to hate Joel Miller for sure.

“You try anything, Miller—” you bark.

Joel’s eyes light up once again, and he can’t help the small smile that takes the corners of his lips. "You’ll put one between my eyes, I know. And I won’t, I promise.”

“So are you comin’ or what?”

"Not so fast," you said quickly, shaking your head. "Give me some time to pack, mull it over a little more. You owe me that."

Joel wanted to protest, just a little bit. But he refrained, nodded, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes, ma’am.”

Your eyes remained watchful, fixed on Joel as you walked backwards to the top floor.

There, in your bedroom, you think over what just happened. Were you really going to do this? Were you really going to risk the life you had created, all for a chance? Who the fuck were you right now, and what had you done with the tough woman you had always been?

You were about to let your morals cloud your judgment, traveling far and wide to save a little girl you didn’t know, alongside a man you were sure you were going to hate. You were about to throw away all you’d become, all you’d ever wanted to be since what went down with the Fireflies all those years ago. With Marlene.

God fucking damnit.

What the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

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alcoholfreenayeon · 1 year ago

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Three times a day

CW: G!p Mina x f!reader, smut, oral, nsfw, fluff

Word count: 2200

A/N: Happy Birthday @keervah 🥰🎉, this one is for you. Hope you like it👀

“Hah!”, you exclaimed smugly as you beat the boss after a few difficult attempts and progress further on your game. As the next part was loading, you glanced at the clock, it was almost 7 pm now and you sighed. It sucked. It was your birthday today and even though you had the day to yourself, your girlfriend didn’t have the day off. Not only that but she had an exceptionally busy day as well. It wasn’t unexpected though, she had already been apologetic the last two days and had been doing everything she could to try and make it up to you. She didn’t need to though. You were happy enough to see her be that thoughtful.

You pause your game, putting your controller to the side and roll over to your back, letting your hand and head dangle off the edge of the sofa as you look at the clock again, swinging your legs.

‘When was Mina going to come back, she said she’d be back by now’, you think to yourself. You groan and stretch, feeling lazy. You had been playing for about 3 hours straight and taking a break was probably a good idea. You sit up slowly, stretch again and then sigh. That’s when you hear the door open and your eyes light up as you turn towards the room’s entrance waiting to see the face of your love. Ruffling and shuffling sounds as you hear her take her shoes off and it also sounds like she’s carrying something, maybe food?, you think as you subconsciously began to smile brightly just at the thought of seeing her.

A few moments later, Mina is at the doorway, a tired smile appears on her face as she sees you sitting cutely waiting for her. “Sorry I took a bit longer to come back”, she apologized.

“I don’t care anymore about that, just come here and hold me”, you tell her, spreading your arms.

Mina smiles and approaches you, putting the packet on the table carefully before sitting next to you and hugging you tightly, resting her head on your shoulders while you buried your face into neck. She stroked your back softly and you held on to her tighter.

You sigh and breathe into her, taking her scent in, this is exactly what you needed. You could stay like this forever but then Mina pulled away much to your disappointment. You had a small pout but it disappeared when Mina reached for the bag and pulled something out of it, it was a box of snickers bars and another small-ish box. You were about to leap for the snickers when Mina giggled and stopped you, “Hey! Wait a second….”, she couldn’t stop smiling and giggling but she also had a slight blush now for some reason. Mina gave you the other box, watching in anticipation as you prepared to open it.

You looked at it in your hands and took a deep breath, smiling excitedly at Mina, it didn’t feel very heavy so you weren’t sure what was in it….earrings maybe? Unable to wait any longer, you just went for it, opening the top in one go and then gasped. It was a necklace, a beautiful one at that, you couldn’t believe it, you looked at Mina in disbelief who just looked back at you smiling happily, her cheeks tinted red and she asked in her cute voice, “do you like it?”.

“I love it.”, you reply, picking it up and having another look at it, “I love it so much.”

Mine kept smiling brightly, she felt so happy that you liked it and your reaction, she found it so cute. “Let me just…”, she suddenly got up and sat behind you, taking the necklace from your hand. She then moved your hair to the side, exposing your neck and then put both arms around you, and then began to put the necklace on you, you shivered slightly as you felt the metallic touch on your skin and more so when you felt Mina breath down your neck. A few seconds later, Mina was done and she leaned forward to take a look at you. “Pretty, so pretty”, she said sweetly and gave you a peck on your neck and then wrapped you around in another hug, resting her head on your back.

You were blushing now, in just a matter of minutes you went from feeling bored to lazy to happy and now you felt like the atmosphere was really intimate. You really felt so touched. Despite her workload, Mina made the time and effort to do so much for you. You put your hand on her arms and gave them a slight squeeze as you leaned back onto her. Mina sighed contentedly, leaning forward and kissing your cheek, “I love you Y/N”. You make yourself smaller in her arms as you feel blissfully happy, you loved her so much. You just wanted to melt away while Mina held you. You sigh heavily in happiness and turn to face her, getting on her lap, wrapping your arms around her neck, staring at her lovingly.

Mina put her hands on your hips, smiling somewhat shyly as you moved around, “eh…what are you…?”, she giggled but then let out a surprised muffle when you began to kiss her passionately. Mina began to relax after a few seconds, kissing you back. Pretty soon this was a full blown make out session and by the time you both pulled away, you both were breathless, looking at each other. You couldn’t help it, you leaned in and began again, Mina followed your lead. A few minutes later, you both pulled away again, unable to look from each other, panting hard. You knew what you wanted, no, needed, and were able to feel what Mina felt too, though it seemed like she was trying to not let you know. You smirked and grabbed her face, “Mina….whats wrong”, you asked trying not to sound smug.

She looked at you gritting her teeth, trying to calm her breathing down, “nothing…i-it’s nothing”, she said that but her eyes said something entirely different, you knew that look of her, what it meant.

You grinned smugly, “really…? It’s…”, you grind on her teasingly, “nothing? Are you sure? It doesn’t feel like it”.

Mina takes a shaky breath, she almost loses control but takes another deep breath and calms a little, “it’s….no, it shouldn’t be about me, not today, today is about you love..”, she says looking away, a hint of guilt in her voice.

You look at in amusement, a naughty smile appearing, “How thoughtful of you baby but you know me right.”, you slide off her legs and get on the floor, on your knees. Mina seems like she wants to protest but at the same time, she follows your lead almost instantly, trying just a little to not seem too eager but you know she’s so down for this. “Just let me…”, you say biting your lips with a smirk as you pull her shorts down and free the beast. You glance up at her with a teasing grin and then you get to work.

Grabbing her cock and starting by stroking it though she was almost completely hard anyway. You looked up at her again, lust in your eyes and then begin to give her cock head slow sensual licks causing Mina to inhale sharply and put her hand on the armrest, holding it firmly. You smile to yourself, enjoying her reactions as you continue to lick her cock while using one hand to slowly stroke the end of her shaft. A couple minutes later, you felt that it was time to move on further. You take the whole head into your mouth, sucking and running your tongue all over while being as loud as you can be.

Mina was starting to breath heavily now, her grip on the armrest tightening slowly, she was trying to keep her eyes closed, imagining random things so she can keep herself distracted but it was getting harder and harder to do that. She let out a quiet moan when you began to bob your head, taking more and more of her length little by little. Half of her cock was glistening with your saliva, you could practically feel Mina’s heartbeat through her cock.

This goes on for a couple of minutes and then you free your mouth, giving yourself a chance to catch your breath while you use that time to stroke her cock again, coating the rest of the length with your saliva as well. You could tell Mina was loving this so much, the way you could hear her breath so hard, the way her hips would start to gently squirm when you would start to take her deeper, her failing efforts to not moan out loud. You take one last breath and start to throat her cock again, going deep right from the start this time.

Immediately Mina gasps and her right hand automatically moves to hold your head, stroking your hair as her head falls back, Mina seems to be struggling to catch her breath. But you don’t care about that right now, your focus was on taking her whole length in and you were going to do that now. You force yourself to go deeper, gagging slightly as it’s a lot of effort. You have taken by 3/4th of her length and are trying to go the last mile but you feel the air in your lungs rapidly fading so you decide to take another breather. As you begin to withdraw, Mina lets out what sounds like a sad moan, like she’s upset that her cock is leaving your throat. You nearly smile but it’s kinda hard to do with a cock in your mouth. As you catch your breath, you take a moment to study Mina, her breathing is so fast and heavy right now, like she’s so close. You decide that this time you’re going to not only take her whole cock but also make her cum. No matter what.

As Mina begins to calm down a little, it’s all gone to waste as this time you are more used to it and her cock is also really slippery and wet now so you take in her whole length almost immediately, struggling a little as you start to reach the end. Mina gasps, then gasps again before both her hands grab your head tightly, squeezing it from the side while she uses her things to stroke your forehead and hair. “I’m….I’m really close…”, she pants out in between moans, her toes curling and her waist begins to rise. That’s all you needed to hear. You use all your skills to make it as pleasurable as possible for Mina, sucking, humming, rolling your tongue over her sensitive spots and of course, looking up at Mina to keep eye contact.

As you start to hum, Mina feels a jolt of pleasure surge through her and in surprise she looks down at you, only to see you with her whole cock in your mouth while you look at her. That’s enough to push her over the edge, she shrieks in pleasure, pushing your head down, holding it in place as she begins to cum. You can clearly feel her pulsate and throb as she keeps firing load after load of cum down your throat. You close your eyes as you try to keep up but it’s overwhelming pretty soon and her cum begins to drool out through the corners of your mouth. Mina fires a few more waves before you hear her take a deep breath and sigh happily. You feel really full now. Your face is a mess. The floor is messy too. You pull away from her cock and pant and smile up to Mina. “Did I do good”, you ask cheekily.

“Huh”, Mina asks, like she didn’t hear you but her cock twitches and begins to rise again and you giggle knowing the answer to your question now. You smile teasingly and kiss the tip of her cock. “Want some more”, you tease.

Mina closes her eyes, an amused smile on her face and she sighs, “Stopppp….I should be the one doing this for you”, she opens her eyes and smiles again, a slight tinge of red on her cheeks.

“Do it then”, you taunt brattily.

Mina sighs and gets up, towering over you. She grabs your hair and lifts you up. “You know, even though it’s your birthday, I feel like I’ve spoiled you too much. You’re being really bratty right now. But don’t worry.”, she says sternly as she takes hold of your arm and begins to drag you towards the bedroom, “when I’m done with you, you’ll be a good girl again”.

You can only bite your lips in anticipation as you prepare yourself for the sleepless night Mina is about to put you through. You might not be able to feel your legs soon but it’ll be worth it….

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