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bueckets · 15 days ago

Text

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

Genre: romance (eventually), slow burn, enemies to lovers, kinda funny?, smut (eventually), cat n mouse

Description: When an overworked engineering student's late-night CAD project gets interrupted by a very drunk, very lost basketball star stumbling into the wrong dorm room, she learns that some defensive plays work better in love than on the court.

What starts as a case of mistaken identity turns into an unexpected game of cat and mouse when UConn's golden girl, Paige Bueckers, can't seem to take a hint– or maybe just doesn't want to. Armed with nothing but sarcasm, an overprotective stuffed bear named Mr. Gummy, and a borrowed team jacket that definitely isn't helping the situation, our engineering hero finds herself drawing up plays to defend her heart against college basketball's most persistent point guard.

They say offense wins games, but defense wins championships. When you're trying not to fall for a girl who treats the court like her kingdom and your personal space like a suggestion, maybe it's time to admit some battles aren't meant to be won.

WC: 11.2k

Authors Notes: i had first written this for jkxreader on my other blog (whoretan) however plot deviates heavily after the first encounter, um, kinda fuck girly paige, but kind of just a love drunk idiot too

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

Your eyes burned as you stared at the CAD model rotating on your screen, the internal combustion engine you'd been working on for the past—what was it now, eight hours?—still refusing to cooperate.

The familiar workspace of SOLIDWORKS had become both your best friend and worst enemy over the past three years at UConn, but tonight it felt particularly vindictive. You'd been trying to get the timing belt assembly to properly mate with the crankshaft for what felt like an eternity, and your deadline was creeping closer by the minute.

"Did you hear?" Riven's voice cut through your concentration as she burst through the door, her designer backpack hitting her bed with enough force to make your desk lamp wobble.

"Hear what?" You didn't bother turning around, instead zooming in on the problematic area of your model. The project was due in six hours, and you were nowhere near having it stress-tested. Sleep was starting to feel like a distant memory from another life.

Riven paused in her tracks—you could practically hear her jaw dropping in that dramatic way she'd perfected since freshman year. "Paige Bueckers was talking about how Q’s jump shot is worse than a middle schooler's."

The absurdity of the statement finally forced you to tear your eyes away from the screen. Your neck cracked in protest as you turned to face your roommate, who stood there with her perfectly manicured hands on her hips, waiting for your reaction. Three years of living together had taught you that Riven wouldn't let you focus until you properly acknowledged whatever piece of gossip she'd brought home.

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

Riven tilted her head, eyes rolling toward the ceiling in that characteristic way of hers. Six seconds of contemplation later (you’d learned to count), she shrugged and pulled out her iPhone, probably to text the women's basketball group chat about the latest drama.

Your roommate, much like all the other Huskies superfans, didn't care whose reputation a particular player tarnished. She'd much rather get on their good side, damaged reputations or not. It was a dance you'd watched play out countless times since freshman year, when you'd first been assigned as roommates.

Back then, you'd thought the random housing assignment would be a disaster—the sports-obsessed sorority girl and the robotics team president seemed like a recipe for mutual hatred. But somehow, your differences had created a strange balance. She dragged you out of your engineering cave occasionally, and you reminded her that there was more to college than chasing after basketball stars.

"Caitlin bought Kate those new custom Nikes." Riven thrust her phone in your face, revealing a photo of Clark's teammate happily posing with pristine white sneakers. The caption read, 'Thanks for the gift bb, @CaitlinClark22'.

You squinted at the screen, trying not to think about how those shoes probably cost more than your entire semester's textbooks. The basketball elite weren't just known for their court skills—their NIL deals were equally legendary. Every starter came from successful programs, the kind that built training facilities and had courts named after their alumni.

"What a lucky bitch," Riven sighed, flopping onto her bed.

Apparently, your roommate wasn't the only one who didn't care for her reputation. Last week, she'd blown up your phone with about thirty—maybe sixty—texts about how her sorority sister had seen Caitlin making out with someone else at The Tavern. Looks like those custom Nikes must've been an apology.

You looked up at your starstruck roommate with pursed lips. Riven caught your expression and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, she's being messy. So what? Those shoes are like two thousand dollars with the custom work, that's my fucking meal plan right there."

"Remind me again how you're a neurology student?"

Riven clutched her chest with an open hand, gasping dramatically. "Wow. I see how it is." She threw herself backward onto her bed with the theatrical flair of a soap opera star.

You couldn't help but grin, even as your eyes darted back to your computer screen. The smile quickly died on your lips.

Oh fuck.

The CAD model still sat there, mocking you with its incomplete state. You'd managed to complete maybe forty percent of the assembly, and the entire thing needed to be fully rigged and stress-analyzed by nine AM.

This was the cost of your procrastination, another dinner sacrificed to the gods of engineering deadlines. At least you had a good excuse this time: you'd spent the weekend helping the robotics team prepare for their upcoming competition. Being vice president meant putting in the extra hours, even if it meant cramming your actual coursework into impossible timeframes.

"I have to finish this tonight. Do not bother me with any more basketball drama." You spun your chair back to face your screen, not bothering to check if Riven was sticking her tongue out at you. You could picture it anyway, she had the maturity of a twelve-year-old sometimes.

Five and a half hours later, you finally pressed the glorious 'Submit' button on Blackboard. You turned off your PC with such violence that the desktop nearly toppled over.

"Never doing that again," you groaned, slumping into your chair and letting your head fall back against the cushion. Your neck felt like it had been replaced with concrete somewhere around hour six.

"You literally say that every time," Riven quipped from her side of the room.

If you had any energy left, you would've gotten up and punched her in the ass. Luckily for her, your eyes had started doing that thing where they drooped shut every few seconds without your permission. You'd decided about thirty minutes ago that your chair was an acceptable substitute for a bed. The walk to your actual mattress seemed about as feasible as climbing Mount Everest right now.

"How do I look? Good enough for the party?"

Fucking hell.

You summoned what little remained of your core strength and groaned as you forced your chair to swivel around. The sight that greeted you was, admittedly, impressive, even through your exhaustion-blurred vision.

Riven wore a black dress that hit just above her knees, with strategic cutouts along her ribs. The laced-up black heels she'd spent twenty minutes struggling with (while whining very fucking loudly) completed the look perfectly. She'd devoted the last hour of your project completion marathon to preparing for KK’s birthday celebration.

“Which party?” you croaked. “The one where everyone’s fighting or the one where they’re pretending nothing happened?”

Her nose wrinkled in that way it did when she was trying not to laugh. "You're so annoying."

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

You watched as Riven stumbled toward her drawer, rummaging through three compartments before pulling out a neon orange tiny bag. And when you say tiny, you mean tiny, it couldn't have been more than two inches across.

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

A wicked smile spread across her face as she opened the toy purse, pulling out her student ID and a tube of lipstick. Of-fucking-course. “Minimalist chic, baby. Besides, I don’t need much. Just the essentials. I'm serious. Tonight's gonna be fucking legendary."

“Legendary,” you deadpanned, swiveling your chair back to your desk. “Try not to end up on Barstool again.”

You swore she lunged forward, ready to attack you with her miniature weapon. But her phone rang, which happened to be a far more pressing matter. The assault could wait. Riven pressed the phone to her ear with a smile that would have made the Cheshire Cat proud.

"Are you here? Yeah, I'm ready. You have the Pink Whitney? Okay. Bye."

She turned back to you with that same manic grin. "I'll get you back for that later. Bye!"

And just like that, Riven leaped out of the room, her neon orange bag and its singular tube of lipstick disappearing with her into whatever chaos awaited at the UConn house.

The sudden silence in her wake felt almost oppressive. You sat there for a moment, contemplating your life choices. The clean lines and precise measurements of your engineering models never gave you this much drama. Maybe that's why you preferred spending your nights with SOLIDWORKS instead of at parties—machines were predictable, logical, and they never started drama about anyone's jump shot.

After nearly crawling your way across the room for what felt like thirty minutes (but was probably closer to five), you finally made it to your bed. Or rather, to the base of your bed. The problem now was getting on top of it. UConn, in its infinite wisdom, had given everyone the tallest fucking beds in existence.

Tall enough that all of your belongings fit underneath it so they could make the rooms ten times smaller by doing so. You sat on your ass, glaring at what felt like a sixteen-foot space between you and the mattress. You could, theoretically, just fucking get up and with one last surge of energy jump onto it. But the soft cotton of your fuzzy rug was suddenly hugging your back, tucking you in, cradling you like a loving parent.

Fuck it, the floor isn't even that bad. You've slept on much worse—like that one time freshman year when you passed out in the robotics lab after a forty-eight-hour building session. At least your rug didn't smell like motor oil and desperation.

Your head lay flat on the floor, the hardwood never felt softer. Riven had left hours ago, and you'd managed to successfully knock out on your chair for a bit. That was until you jolted awake, sweating out of every crevice of your body, and made eye contact with your actual bed. You'd said goodbye to the chair and began the voyage to your proper sleeping place. Clearly, that wasn't going as planned.

It was too late now to dwell on what could've been. Tomorrow, you'd start anew. Just like every time she partied, Riven wouldn't be back for two or three days. You'd have a full day to sleep on your actual bed without the mention of UConn and internal combustion engines.

You turned to your side, the fuzz tickling your chin as you nuzzled into it. Sleep was just starting to creep in when—

"Taylor! Tay baby, please open the door!"

The hairs on your arms rose and a fart you hadn't realized you'd been holding in released into the air. Some drunk player had the wrong door.

“Wrong room,” you called, hoping they’d get the hint. With a shaky breath, you nuzzled deeper into the carpet.

Not a second later, a bang erupted through your room. "Tay, please. I'm so sorry. I fucked up."

Your heart thrashed in your chest. Could you not have one night of peace? One night of tranquility to enjoy your own company? One night to enjoy sleeping on the hard floor?

"Taylor, for fuckssake." The asshole nearly knocked the fucking door off the hinges.

First, you're going to knock her the hell out. Then, you'll find out where Taylor lives and knock her out, too. Maybe you could work it into your next robotics project—a robot specifically designed to punch drunk athletes who can't read room numbers.

"Tay, please—"

You jolted upward and ran to the door so fast you probably broke several laws of physics. Swinging the wooden panel open like a madwoman, you yelled, "Listen asshole, I don't know who Taylor is and I don't give a damn. It's late as hell and some of us actually enjoy sleeping!"

Said asshole leaned against the door frame of your room, a Nike-covered foot tapping against the floor as she pressed a finger to your lips. "Shhhhh, baby, I said I'm sorry."

Your throat locked and you nearly laughed at the audacity. Did this fucker really not notice you weren't Taylor? Through your sleep-deprived haze, you managed to register a few details about the intruder: tall, athletic build that made your mouth go dry, honey-blonde hair falling in waves around her shoulders, and wearing what looked like exclusive UConn team gear. Great. A drunk basketball star.

Said basketball star happened to also push herself off the door frame and trudge past you, right into your room as if she'd been there a million times.

Much like you wanted to before your carpet trapped you, the stranger leaped onto your bed, stomach flopping onto the cushion of your mattress. She muttered something you couldn't hear as she grabbed your favorite pillow and brought it close to her chest. She was snuggling your Mr. Gummy.

You were going to go to jail for assaulting a Division I athlete. Yeah. This was the end of your girl boss engineering career. Goodbye feminist STEM icon. Hello convict. All those years of suffering to get into UConn just for you to catch a case over the Greek Goddess, Nike, herself. At least you'd submitted your project first, might as well get credit for that before you went to prison.

"Babe, I don't remember your bed smelling this good." She'd gone into a fetal position, kicking off her—yep, definitely team-exclusive Nikes. Maybe, just maybe, you'd knock her out and then sell her shoes on StockX. The proceeds could cover your legal defense.

You rubbed your forehead with the back of your palm, wiping away the stress sweat that had accumulated. You swung your head out of your door, looking left and right, then repeat. Empty. Fuck. Fuck, and fuck.

You paced back and forth a few times, biting on the edge of your hand. You can't pick this goddess off your bed. One, she's drunk as hell. Two, she's... You gazed back at the stranger, somewhere on her journey to your bed she'd tossed her UConn warmup jacket to your floor. Leaving her in a fitted tank top that left nothing to the imagination.

Who needs that many shoulder muscles? The definition in the arm that hugged Mr. Gummy was sculpted by years of perfect jump shots. Each shift of her body revealed new curves, like a living Nike ad designed specifically to torment sleep-deprived engineering students.

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

Okay, so you can't drag the basketball star off your bed.

Plan B it is.

You trudged into your room, taking one last look at the hallway. Should you close the door?

If someone did hypothetically walk past would they think you drugged her? She was slurring her words and hugging your favorite bear while you paced back and forth like you happened to "accidentally" slip something into her Gatorade.

You closed the door.

You needed to call Riven. You could care less that she was at the beginning of her three-day rager, you weren't going to wait till the next morning when Nike would wake up and start accusing you of kidnapping UConn's star point guard.

You slowly walked toward your desk, making sure to avoid the panels on the floor that creaked every time someone stepped on them. Empty. You pushed your chair back to see if it happened to fall earlier. Empty.

The air stilled, and you shook your head. No. No. She was laying on it.

You'd chucked your phone onto your bed after deciding to finally start your project. You had to call Riven. There was no other choice but to tell someone. And given the fact that your contact list included your parents and Riven, she was looking like the most optimal candidate.

As silently as you could, you tip-toed toward your bed and did a quick examination. Near her head? Nope. Mr. Gummy? Nope. Legs? Nope. Hip?

Yeah.

Maybe you would go to jail after all, for assault.

You better get an A on that fucking project.

You took a step forward, awkwardly climbing the edge of your bed to get closer to your phone. Which was nicely tucked right under the curve of her ass, your camera barely peeking out as if it was taunting you.

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

Your face contorted as you inched closer to the basketball player, thumb and middle finger clutching the edges of your phone and lightly tugging backward. She huffed out a soft groan. Dear god.

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

Your eyes left the phone and gazed to the floor where your Mr. Gummy lay sacrificed to the floor demons. Uh oh.

You turned back to retrieve your bear when your eyes locked with hers. Her very open eyes.

She was smiling.

"Baby I didn't know you were so handsy."

You stared. That's all you could manage to do—stare at the face of the beautiful drunk idiot in front of you. And holy shit was she beautiful. The kind of beautiful that made you question if UConn's recruitment standards included a mandatory photogenic quota for certain players.

The idiot had a playful smile playing across her stupidly perfect face. Taylor must be a lucky girl. Not lucky enough, though, considering her girlfriend was currently in a stranger's bed. How drunk did someone have to be to not recognize they had the wrong person?

"C'mere," she grabbed your arm, pulling you to your side as if you weighed nothing. A strong arm locked around your waist and began rubbing circles on your stomach. The motion sent shivers down your spine that you desperately tried to ignore.

"Missed you, n' I'm sorry baby," she slurred into your ear. Her voice was much softer now, a warm whisper that made your whole body tingle.

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

The words shot straight between your legs. You hadn't been touched in almost two years. Sue me. A gorgeous basketball star was rubbing your lower stomach while she told you—her girlfriend—she missed her. This had to be some kind of cosmic joke. You spend three years avoiding athlete drama, and now the universe deposits one directly into your bed?

You needed your phone. Pronto.

"Listen— I—" You raised a clammy hand to lift her, attempting to wrap your fingers around her wrist to lift it. Your engineering brain was trying to calculate the exact force required to remove her arm without waking her up further, but all mathematical ability seemed to have short-circuited.

"You're so squirmy tonight," she intertwined your fingers.

What the fuck are you supposed to do? You inched your body further away in an attempt to shrug her off. A move that, in retrospect, was about as well-thought-out as trying to integrate calculus while drunk.

Nike thought otherwise. She pulled you closer until her front was pressed firmly against your back, her breath warm against your neck. You could feel the defined muscles of her stomach through her tank top, her body radiating heat that made your head spin.

FUCK.

You'll wake up with a gay panic and a warrant.

"I'm really tired," you squirmed against the death grip around your waist. For someone supposedly blackout drunk, she had the grip strength of someone who'd spent their life fighting through double teams.

Just pretend it's not there. You do not feel anything. Just toned arms and her—

"G'to bed baby. I'll make it up— make it up to you n' the morning." Nike lifted herself to place one last sleepy kiss against your cheek.

Two minutes later, Nike’s light snores vibrated against the back of your neck, warm breath caressing your skin. You wouldn't be able to move her off you. You had no clue where your phone was. Her hip could very well have fully consumed it at this point, creating some kind of phone-eating black hole that physics hadn't yet discovered.

With a sigh, you closed your eyes, pretended there wasn't a Division I basketball star sleeping in your bed, and prayed that you wouldn't end up in some viral TikTok before noon. At least if you did become internet famous, you'd already submitted that goddamn CAD project.

Your last thought before drifting off was that Mr. Gummy better not tell anyone about this.

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

Are you being robbed? Is someone being murdered? You jolted upwards to see Riven staring at you with an open mouth, her perfectly applied makeup from last night now resembling a raccoon's Halloween costume.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of sleep. What's her problem?

She pointed to your bed and you turned your body to the side. Oh.

Oh.

Nike was rapidly blinking, those unfairly long eyelashes fluttering as she was most likely realizing you were not Taylor. The morning light streaming through your window illuminated her features in a way that should be illegal before coffee.

You laughed nervously, hands flailing in front of you like a malfunctioning windmill. "It's not what it looks like."

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

Paige Bueckers? The same UConn Basketball Star Paige Bueckers? No fucking way.

This Paige had cuddled Mr. Gummy half of the night before opting to trap you in the bed with her. There was no chance that this was the same Paige Bueckers that had NIL deals with Nike and Gatorade and had laid waste to half the NCAA.

Paige—definitely Paige—groaned beside you, hands rubbing her face. "Taylor's going to kill me," she mumbled underneath her breath.

"No, we— we didn't. We." You pointed between yourself and Paige, your brain short-circuiting like a poorly wired circuit board.

"Listen, sweetie, I'm sure it was the time of your life, but this was a one-time thing." Her voice had that practiced smoothness of someone who'd given this speech before, probably more times than the number of equations in your thermodynamics textbook.

Your eyes bulged out of their sockets. Was she serious? Did she think you two—? And she was okay with it? Now, this fits the description perfectly of the cocky superstar Paige Bueckers was known to be.

Your face burned hotter than an overclocked processor. "We did not have sex. You came in here drunk off your ass screaming about your girlfriend."

By the time the word girlfriend left your mouth, Paige Bueckers had already jumped off your bed with the agility of someone who definitely wasn't as hungover as she should be. She snatched up her UConn warmup jacket from your floor and was halfway down the hallway before you could blink.

What an arrogant little asshole. Your muscles quivered with the urge to strangle her. That is if you ever saw her again. Which, given your luck and UConn’s campus, was probably inevitable.

"How long have you and Paige been seeing each other?" The empty spot beside you filled with Riven's weight. "Is that why you never wanted to come to the games with me?"

"Riven, you have five seconds to get off of my bed before I strangle you."

"You can't avoid this conversation forever!" she called out as you stormed into the bathroom, slamming the door with perhaps more force than necessary.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you tried to process the reality that you'd just spent the night cuddled up with Paige fucking Bueckers. The same player whose name had been carved into the unofficial NCAA hierarchy since before orientation.

You splashed cold water on your face, trying to wash away the memory of how her arms had felt around you, how her breath had tickled your neck, how her—

No. Absolutely not. You were not going to join the ranks of college students who'd lost their minds over a basketball star. You had bigger things to worry about. Like whether your CAD project had uploaded properly. Or if you could ever look at Mr. Gummy the same way again.

The next few days passed in a blur of classes, labs, and actively avoiding any location where you might run into Paige. You'd even skipped Tuesday's Engineering Club meeting, sending your vice president a detailed email about needing to catch up on work. It wasn't entirely a lie—you did have work to catch up on, considering you'd spent half your study time calculating alternate routes to class that avoided the usual athlete hangouts.

But by Thursday afternoon, your luck ran out. The library was supposed to be safe—the one place on campus where the basketball players rarely ventured. They had their own private study rooms in the athletic center, after all. Which is why you'd let your guard down, settling into your favorite spot near the engineering section to catch up on your reading.

The peaceful atmosphere was shattered by two girls settling at the table across from you, their whispered conversation carrying clearly in the quiet space.

"So yeah, I like totally made out with Paige in the team room. We almost knocked over Coach's whiteboard, isn't that hilarious?" The prettier of the two said as she placed her MacBook on the wooden table, her voice carrying that forced casualness of someone trying very hard to seem unbothered.

Her friend laughed and took a sip of her Starbucks, a lemonade, probably sugar-free, because of course it was. "So how was it?"

Paige's latest conquest giggled and opened her laptop, trying to seem as uninterested in the conversation as possible. You'd seen this play before, the carefully crafted nonchalance that masked the inevitable disappointment when Paige moved on to her next target. You'd bet your entire scholarship that she'd gone home crying after being ghosted, only to watch Paige pretend she didn't exist the next day.

By this point, you'd given up all pretense of studying chemical processes and electron movement. You'd reread the same paragraph in your textbook sixteen times, your brain more interested in this glimpse into the life of your unexpected bedmate. So what if you're being nosy? Everyone is nosy, and besides, you'd mentally checked out the moment these two sat down.

"She's such a good kisser.” Her friend's mouth dropped open as she placed her half-empty cup onto the table, grabbing her friend's shoulder with one hand. The former nodded, still giggling, "Sarah, I know. She like totally picked me up against the whiteboard."

Are they not aware that people can hear them? That they're in a public space? You glanced around the library, which was half-empty as usual. So maybe you were the only one eavesdropping. Still, you wouldn't go around a library of all places announcing your hookups to the world.

"Hey buttercup," an eerily familiar voice purred in your ear.

You jolted, arms flailing like a malfunctioning robot, inevitably colliding with your pencil case and sending its contents scattering across the floor. Various writing implements rolled under nearby tables like they were making a break for freedom.

You turned to lock eyes with a very, very familiar pair of hazel eyes. Shit.

"Do I know you?" You asked through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how good she looked in her fitted Nike training gear. The amount of exclusive team merchandise on her body probably equaled your entire semester's expenses.

Why would Paige, of all people, be looking for you? If you remembered correctly, she was the one to so diligently inform you that whatever happened was a one-time thing—even though nothing had actually happened.

Paige's eyes crinkled at the corners as her lips tugged upward into that infamous smirk. She leaned forward, resting one hand on the edge of the table, the other on the back of your chair, effectively caging you in. "Don't play dumb."

She was in your bubble. Way too close for comfort, especially since you'd been planning on never having to interact with her again. You groaned and leaned backward, roughly pushing your chair back to give yourself space to lean over and pick up your scattered pens. The move was partly practical and partly designed to annoy her.

"Listen, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here either." Paige grabbed the chair to your left and pushed it closer to you, dropping into it with that natural athlete's grace. "I've been to your room every day since Sunday and you haven't been there once."

Welp. Why the hell would she be looking for you?

"I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was supposed to be waiting in my room for you." You shoved the pens back into your pencil case, gripping the zipper and tugging it closed with perhaps more force than necessary. Looks like the library was no longer a safe haven.

"I lost my phone and you're the only person I remember being with that night," Paige groaned, turning her head.

Does she truly remember that night? Remember that you two didn't actually hook up but instead cuddled? You wanted to convulse at the memory of how safe and warm you'd felt in her arms. How right it had—no. Absolutely not.

"Oh fuck," she mumbled, her expression shifting from annoyed to something closer to panic.

Your eyes followed her gaze to see what had caused this reaction.

Ha. Ha. Ha. In your face, superstar. You couldn't help but grin as you realized the two girls were still very much present. Not only present but staring at you and Paige with expressions that suggested their jaws might actually detach and hit the table.

Paige leaned back in her chair, sending them a small wave and a—was that a wink? Your eyes nearly rolled directly out of their sockets. How much more predictable could she get?

You didn't bother to look back at the two girls to see their reaction. You could guess it anyway—probably swooning in their chairs, maybe even planning their own strategic "accidental" encounters with her. You wouldn't be surprised if they were already planning to show up at her next practice session.

"Anyways," Paige turned back to you, her voice dropping to that low register that definitely didn't do things to your insides, "Have you seen it?"

You shook your head, closing your textbook. Time to get the hell out of here. "No, I haven't. Sorry."

"Are you mad about what I said? Is that why you're holding my precious phone hostage?" Paige's hand shot out to land on top of your textbook, preventing you from shoving it in your bag—or directly at her stupid, perfect face.

"Mad about what exactly?" You grabbed her hand and tried to shove it off the textbook. She didn't budge. Of course she didn't, you'd seen her arms during all those ESPN highlights Riven forced you to watch. "I do not have your phone."

Within seconds, Paige's hand slid off the textbook only to trap your hand against it instead. She moved to the edge of her chair and leaned forward until her lips were at the shell of your ear. Her warm breath hit your skin and you had to resist the urge to squirm. "About what I said in front of your roommate, sweetie."

Your blood ran cold. Does she think you give two shits about what she said in front of Riven? That she made your roommate think you two were secretly hooking up and that she would undoubtedly eventually let it slip to her sorority sisters? Who will tell the rest of campus? No. Not. At. All.

Asshole. She's a no-good little asshole with too many NIL deals and too little accountability.

You turned your head to face her, ignoring the fact that you were now inches apart. If you weren't so pissed you might've paused to appreciate how her eyes looked up close, how they seemed to hold more mischief than all the troublemakers in Cambridge combined. But now wasn't the time for character studies.

You held her gaze, noting the slight knit in her brow that suggested she wasn't as confident as she was pretending to be. "Listen here Bueckers, whether or not you want to keep pretending like we hooked up or not is none of my business. I do not have your fucking phone, and if I did I would've thrown that shit into the Charles River by now."

You yanked your hand away from her grasp and turned back to your desk. You managed to successfully toss your textbook into your bag and rise from your chair without another word from her.

Before making your very dramatic exit, you turned to face her one last time. Might as well make it grand.

Paige hadn't moved an inch since you'd stood up. She stared at you with a raised brow and that infuriating smirk tugging at her lips. She found this amusing? Found humiliating you in the library a good pastime?

You bent over your chair, placing one hand on her shoulder and leaning in until you were at the shell of her ear. She stiffened under your touch, and you felt a small thrill of satisfaction. What the fuck are you doing?

You leaned in further, so close that your chest pressed flat against your arm and her body. So close that your lips actually grazed her ear as you whispered, with all the venom you could muster, “This might work on your little groupies, but, I’m not interested.”

The last thing you saw as you straightened up and walked away was the shocked expression on her face, like she couldn't quite believe what had just happened. Good. Let her be confused for once.

You managed to make it all the way to the library exit before your hands started shaking. What the hell had gotten into you? You'd just essentially declared war on one of the most prominent athletes at UConn. The star player who could probably get you banned from every sports event without blinking.

But as you pushed through the heavy doors into the crisp fall air, you couldn't bring yourself to regret it. Maybe it was time someone stood up to the mighty Paige Bueckers. Someone who didn't want anything from her except for her to leave them alone.

Your muscles were still tense from your library encounter as you trudged up the stairs to your dorm room. The familiar hallway felt longer than usual, probably because every step reminded you of how spectacularly you'd just antagonized UConn's star player. At least you'd managed to get through your thermodynamics lab without dwelling too much on the way Paige's face had dropped when you'd—

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

You fumbled with your key card, missing the reader twice before finally getting the door open. The first thing you noticed was an envelope on the floor, likely slipped under your door while you were in class. You bent down to pick it up, ready to toss it in the recycling with all the other campus spam, when Riven's voice cut through the room.

"What's that?"

You jumped, nearly dropping the envelope. Your roommate was sprawled across her bed, still in her scrubs from her hospital rotation. She must have gotten back early.

"Nothing," you muttered, but it was too late. Riven had already launched herself off her bed with surprising agility for someone who'd just finished a twelve-hour shift.

"Oh my god," she squealed, snatching the envelope from your hands before you could protest. "These are courtside tickets to Saturday's game!"

Your stomach dropped. Sure enough, two tickets peeked out of the torn envelope in Riven's hands. But what caught your eye was the note attached.

Found my phone in the team room. Who would’ve thought, right? Peace? - PB

"We're going," Riven declared, already pulling out her phone. "I'm texting the group chat right now. Do you know how impossible these tickets are to get?"

You reached for the tickets, but Riven danced away, holding them above her head like a prized trophy. "We are not going."

"Oh yes we are," she grinned, typing furiously with one hand while keeping the tickets out of your reach with the other. "Everyone's going to be so jealous. How did you even get these?"

"I didn't—" you started, then stopped. How exactly do you explain to your basketball-obsessed roommate that these tickets were some kind of weird peace offering from Paige Bueckers? A peace offering that felt more like a challenge, especially given that note.

"Earth to engineering nerd," Riven waved her hand in front of your face. "You're coming to this game. No excuses. I've already told everyone you're finally embracing the Husky spirit."

You groaned, falling face-first onto your bed. Mr. Gummy stared at you judgmentally from his spot against your pillow. Even he seemed to be saying you should have thrown those tickets away the moment you saw them.

"I have to study," you mumbled into your comforter.

"You always have to study," Riven countered. "But how often do you get courtside tickets from Paige Bueckers?"

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

"PB?" Riven held up the note, smirking. "Please. I may be pre-med, but I'm not stupid. Also, her signature is literally on every piece of UConn merch in the campus store."

Great. Just great. Now you had no choice but to go to the game. If you didn't, Riven would never let you hear the end of it. She'd probably drag you there anyway, study plans be damned.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling as if it might offer some escape route from this situation. Instead, all you could think about was how you'd have to sit courtside—courtside—and watch Paige play. Watch her make those impossible passes, sink those perfect three-pointers, command the court like she was born to do it.

And she'd know you were there. That was the worst part. This wasn't just a peace offering—it was a power play. She was making sure you couldn't ignore her anymore.

"Fine," you sighed, already regretting the word as it left your mouth. "But I'm bringing my thermodynamics textbook."

Riven's squeal of delight was probably heard all the way in the engineering building.

You grabbed Mr. Gummy and hugged him to your chest, wondering how exactly you'd gone from successfully telling Paige Bueckers to fuck off to having courtside seats to watch her play. The bear offered no answers, but you could have sworn he looked a little smug about the whole situation.

The next two days were a special kind of torture. Riven had taken it upon herself to become your personal "game day preparation coordinator," which apparently meant forcing you to sit through endless highlight reels of UConn's recent victories. By Friday afternoon, you could probably recite Paige's stat line from memory—not that you'd ever admit that to anyone.

"You can't wear that," Riven declared as you pulled out your standard comfort outfit: UConn Engineering hoodie and black leggings.

You glanced down at your clothes, then back at your roommate. "Why not?"

"Because we're sitting courtside," she emphasized the word like you were a particularly slow child. "People are going to see us. The cameras might even pan to us during timeouts!"

The mere thought made your stomach churn. "That's exactly why I should wear this. I don't want to draw any attention."

Riven was already shaking her head, diving into her closet with the determination of someone on a mission. "No way. If Paige Bueckers gives you courtside tickets, you dress for the occasion."

"She didn't give them to me," you protested, even though technically she had. "They were just left under our door."

"Right," Riven emerged with an armful of clothes. "Just like she just happened to end up in your bed that night?"

You threw Mr. Gummy at her head. She dodged, laughing as the bear bounced harmlessly off your desk lamp. "We are not talking about that again."

An hour and approximately seventeen outfit changes later, you finally escaped. Your excuse about needing to pick up materials from the engineering lab wasn't entirely a lie—you did have a project due next week. The fact that the engineering building was on the opposite side of campus from the athletic facilities was just a bonus.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice the person exiting the coffee shop until it was too late. Hot liquid splashed across your chest as you collided with what felt like a brick wall of muscle.

"Shit, I'm so sorry!" A voice that definitely wasn't Paige's (thank god) exclaimed.

You looked up—and up—into the concerned face of one of UConn's basketball players. The Croatian accent and defensive intensity were legendary enough that even you, perpetually sports-oblivious, recognized her from Riven's endless team discussions.

"It's fine," you managed, trying to ignore how the hot coffee was currently seeping through your shirt. At least it wasn't your engineering hoodie—Riven would've killed you if you'd ruined her carefully planned outfit for tomorrow.

She was already pulling napkins from her pocket, dabbing at your shirt with a look of genuine distress. "Let me buy you a new coffee. And shirt," she added, eyeing the growing stain.

"Really, it's fine." You stepped back, ready to bolt. The last thing you needed was another interaction with a basketball player.

But she wasn't letting you off that easy. She grabbed your wrist with surprising gentleness for someone known for her aggressive defense. “Nah, I insist. I'm Nika, by the way. And I really do feel terrible about this."

Before you could protest further, she was steering you back into the coffee shop. The barista's eyes widened slightly at the sight of Nika—clearly a regular customer—but otherwise maintained their professional composure.

"The usual for me," Nika called out, "and whatever she wants." She turned to you expectantly.

You mumbled your name and order—"Just a black coffee"—trying to shrink into yourself. Several students were openly staring now, probably wondering why Nika Mühl was buying coffee for some random engineering student.

"And a chocolate croissant," Nika added, ignoring your attempt to protest. "Trust me, they're amazing here."

You shifted uncomfortably as she paid, very aware of the wet fabric clinging to your skin. Nika seemed to notice your discomfort because she shrugged off her UConn warmup jacket and held it out to you.

"Here, you can't stay in that wet shirt."

You stared at the jacket like it might bite you. The same style jacket Paige had left on your floor that night. The one that probably cost more than your textbooks.

"I can't—"

"You can and you will," Nika insisted, pushing the jacket into your hands. "There's a bathroom right there. Go change before you catch a cold."

Something in her tone brooked no argument. You found yourself in the bathroom before you could really process what was happening, staring at your reflection as you zipped up the warmup jacket. It was slightly too big, making you look like a kid playing dress-up in their older sibling's clothes.

When you emerged, Nika had already claimed a table in the corner, your drinks and the promised chocolate croissant waiting. She waved you over with a smile that somehow managed to be both friendly and slightly intimidating.

"So," she said as you slid into the seat across from her, "what's your major?"

"Engineering. Mechanical." You picked at the croissant, wondering how quickly you could eat it and escape.

Nika's eyes narrowed slightly, like she was trying to solve a puzzle. "Engineering— wait." Her eyes widened with recognition. "Holy shit, are you that girl?"

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

"The one from the library! The one who told Paige—what was it? ‘That you’re not one of her groupies’?” Nika's grin spread across her face like wildfire. "No wonder she's been such a mess lately."

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

"Oh my god, this is perfect. You're also the one she—" Nika cut herself off, studying your increasingly red face with growing delight. "The one whose room she crashed in after KK’s party?"

Your face burned hotter than the coffee you'd been wearing moments ago. "How did you—"

"Paige tells me everything," Nika leaned back in her chair, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Well, eventually. Had to drag this one out of her after she spent three days moping around practice like someone had stolen her favorite pair of Jordan’s.”

"I didn't steal anything," you protested automatically. "Not her phone, not her—"

"Oh, she knows that now," Nika waved dismissively. "Found it in the team room yesterday morning. Right where those girls said it would be." She paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to say, watching her spiral about it was pretty entertaining. She's not used to people calling her out like that."

The implication hung heavy in the air. You remembered the library girls' story about making out with Paige against the whiteboard. Something must have shown on your face because Nika's expression softened slightly.

"Look, Paige is complicated. She's not used to people seeing through her bullshit." She took a sip of her drink, considering her next words carefully. "Those tickets? That's her way of saying she fucked up."

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

"By letting you think she didn't remember that night."

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

Nika's phone buzzed before she could answer. She glanced at it and grimaced. "Speaking of her royal highness, I'm late for film." She stood, gathering her things with practiced efficiency. "Keep the jacket. Consider it compensation for the coffee attack."

You watched her head toward the door, your mind spinning with questions. Just before she left, she turned back with a knowing smirk.

"See you tomorrow at the game. Front row, right?"

The door chimed as she left, leaving you alone with a half-eaten croissant and more questions than answers. You looked down at the jacket, at the way the UConn logo seemed to mock you with its pristine embroidery.

Somehow, in trying to avoid Paige Bueckers, you'd managed to get tangled up in her world anyway. And tomorrow, you'd have to sit courtside and watch her in her element, all while wearing her best friend's jacket.

Mr. Gummy was definitely going to judge you for this.

"No." You glared at the suspicious red cup Riven was waving in front of your face. "Absolutely not."

"Come on! It's tradition!" She pushed the cup closer, its contents sloshing dangerously near the rim. The sharp smell of cheap vodka mixed with what you assumed was cranberry juice wafted toward you. "You can't go to your first real game sober."

You turned back to your mirror, adjusting Nika's warmup jacket for the hundredth time. The number 10 stared back at you, a constant reminder of yesterday's coffee shop encounter. You'd tried to talk yourself out of wearing it, but everything else felt too casual for courtside seats (according to Riven) or too formal (also according to Riven).

"I'm not pregaming a basketball game at three in the afternoon."

"It's four," Riven corrected, checking her phone. "And yes, you are. The team's already been at Gampel for hours, and we need to leave in thirty minutes if we want good spots for warm-ups. I refuse to let you sit there reading thermodynamics while history happens right in front of us."

You spun around, hands on your hips. "History?"

"Yes! We're playing Notre Dame. It's huge." She thrust the cup into your hands with such force that some of it splashed onto your fingers. "And you're wearing Nika Mühl's personal jacket. Do you know how many people would kill for that?"

"I got it because she spilled coffee on me," you muttered, but took a small sip anyway. Just to shut her up. The drink was surprisingly not terrible— mostly juice with just enough vodka to warm your chest.

"Right. Just like Paige 'accidentally' ended up in your bed." Riven made air quotes with her fingers, nearly spilling her own drink in the process. "And then 'accidentally' gave us courtside tickets."

"Can we not talk about that?" You took another sip, larger this time. The warmth spread through your limbs, making everything feel slightly softer around the edges. Maybe Riven had a point about the drinking thing.

"Oh, we're definitely talking about it." She flopped onto your bed, somehow not spilling a drop. "You're wearing her best friend's jacket to watch her play. This is like, next level psychological warfare."

You choked on your drink. "It's not warfare! I just didn't have anything else to wear."

"Mhmm." Riven's knowing smirk made you want to throw Mr. Gummy at her again. "That's why you spent twenty minutes adjusting it in the mirror."

"I did not—"

"You did! You were all,” She stood up, mimicking your earlier movements with exaggerated precision. "'Oh, should I zip it up all the way? Maybe halfway? What if I push up the sleeves?'"

You drained your cup in one go, grimacing at the burn. "I hate you."

"You love me." She was already mixing another drink, this one slightly stronger than the last. "And you're going to thank me when Paige sees you in that jacket and loses her mind."

"She's not going to lose her mind," you protested, but accepted the fresh drink anyway. "She probably won't even notice."

Riven's laugh echoed off the walls. "Oh honey. Paige notices everything. Why do you think she's the best point guard in the country?"

The walk to Gampel Pavilion was a blur of Riven's excited chatter and your growing anxiety. The drinks had taken the edge off, but your heart still raced as you approached the arena. Students were already lining up outside, many wearing jerseys and carrying signs. Your hand instinctively went to the zipper of Nika's jacket, suddenly very aware of what you were wearing.

"Stop fidgeting," Riven hissed, pulling you toward a separate entrance. "You look hot. Own it."

The security guard barely glanced at your tickets before waving you through. The arena was already humming with energy— staff rushing around with equipment, the band setting up in their section, early arrivals claiming their seats.

Your courtside seats were exactly where you'd dreaded they'd be: directly behind the UConn bench. Close enough to hear every word, see every expression, feel every moment of tension.

"This is insane," you muttered, sinking into your seat. The court stretched out before you like a stage, the overhead lights making everything feel surreal.

"Look." Riven nudged you, pointing toward the tunnel. "They're coming out for warm-ups."

Your heart jumped into your throat as the team emerged, led by the coaching staff. Players filed onto the court in perfect formation, their practice jerseys a sea of navy and white. You spotted Nika first— impossible to miss with her distinctive playing style, already intense even in warm-ups.

And then there she was.

Paige moved with that effortless grace that made everything look easy, her ponytail swinging as she dribbled two balls simultaneously. She hadn't looked toward the crowd yet, locked in that pre-game focus that elite athletes got.

"Here we go," Riven whispered, her phone already out and recording.

You watched as Paige went through her warm-up routine, each movement precise and practiced. She worked her way around the three-point line, barely seeming to notice as shot after shot swished through the net.

Then she turned to grab a rebound, and her eyes swept across the courtside seats.

You saw the exact moment she registered you. Her hands froze mid-dribble, the ball bouncing away forgotten. Her gaze locked onto the number 10 across your chest, then slowly traveled up to meet your eyes.

The intensity in her stare made your whole body flush hot. You watched as her jaw clenched, that familiar muscle ticking in a way that sent heat straight to your core. Her eyes darkened with something that looked dangerously close to possession.

Nika appeared beside her, saying something that made Paige snap back to attention. But not before you caught the way her gaze lingered on how her best friend's jacket fit your frame.

"Holy shit," Riven breathed, still recording. "I think you broke her."

You slumped lower in your seat, already regretting letting the vodka convince you this was a good idea. "Shut up."

"No way. This is better than any reality show." She zoomed in as Paige missed her next three shots in a row. "Look what you did to her."

"I didn't do anything," you protested weakly, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from Paige's form. The way her practice jersey clung to her shoulders, how her muscles flexed with each movement, the intense focus that had returned to her features – though you swore you caught her glancing in your direction between plays.

This was going to be a very long game.

The game started exactly as you'd expected— with Paige absolutely demolishing Notre Dame's defense while you tried very hard to look anywhere else. It wasn't working.

"Did you see that pass?" Riven screamed in your ear for approximately the eighteenth time. "She didn't even look!"

No, you hadn't seen the pass, because you were very deliberately studying the fascinating architecture of Gampel's ceiling. The vodka buzz had worn off about twenty minutes ago, leaving you hyperaware of every move, every sound, every time Paige jogged past your seats during transitions.

The worst part? Nika kept sending you these knowing looks from the bench, like she was watching her favorite rom-com play out in real time. You were starting to regret not bringing your thermodynamics textbook after all. At least differential equations made sense. They didn't smirk at you or have perfectly defined arm muscles or—

"Time out, Huskies!"

The players jogged toward the bench, and suddenly your personal space was invaded by very tall, very sweaty athletes. You tried to shrink further into your seat, but there was nowhere to go. Especially not when Paige dropped into a crouch right in front of you, ostensibly to grab her water bottle.

"Nice jacket," she said quietly, just loud enough for you to hear over the timeout huddle. Her eyes traveled down your body in a way that made you feel like you were wearing significantly less than a full warmup jacket and jeans.

You opened your mouth to respond with something witty, something that would put her in her place like you had in the library. Instead, what came out was: "Your friend has good taste."

Paige's eyes darkened, that same possessive look from warm-ups returning with intensity. "Does she?"

Before you could dig yourself into an even deeper hole, Coach Auriemma's voice cut through the tension. "Bueckers! Get your ass over here!"

You watched as she jogged back to the huddle, trying to ignore how your skin felt electric where her gaze had lingered. Beside you, Riven was practically vibrating with excitement.

"I got all of that on video," she whispered, waving her phone in your face. "This is going in the group chat."

"If you send that anywhere, I will reprogram your phone to only play the Barney theme song."

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

The timeout ended, and the players returned to the court. You noticed Paige was playing with even more intensity now, if that was possible. Her crossovers were sharper, her passes more precise, like she had something to prove.

"Twenty bucks says she's showing off for you," Riven muttered.

"Thirty says you're delusional."

But as you watched Paige sink another impossible three-pointer and turn slightly— just slightly - in your direction before jogging back on defense, you had to admit that maybe, just maybe, Riven had a point.

The game continued in a blur of strategic timeouts (during which Paige found increasingly creative ways to end up near your seat), incredible plays (that you definitely weren't watching just to see the way her muscles moved), and Riven's running commentary (which was getting progressively less about basketball and more about the "tension that could be cut with a knife").

By the fourth quarter, UConn had built a comfortable lead, and you'd developed a concerning familiarity with exactly how Paige's practice jersey clung to her shoulders when she was sweating. This was not information you needed in your life. You had CAD models to build, robots to program, a future in engineering to secure. You did not have time to notice how her hair had started falling out of its ponytail in these impossibly attractive wisps, or how—

"Game! Huskies win!"

The final buzzer snapped you out of your completely professional analysis of athletic biomechanics. The crowd erupted as players from both teams exchanged handshakes and hugs. You stood, ready to make your escape before—

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned to find Paige standing right there, still slightly breathless from the game, her presence filling your entire field of vision. Up close, you could see the flush of exertion on her cheeks, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the slight curl of her lips that suggested she knew exactly what she was doing to you.

"I have studying to do," you managed, proud that your voice came out steady.

"On a Saturday night?" She stepped closer, and you caught the faint scent of her perfume mixed with sweat. It should not have been as attractive as it was. "After watching me put up thirty points?"

"Thirty-two," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Beside you, Riven made a sound that might have been a squeal or a laugh.

Paige's smirk grew wider. "So you were watching."

"It was kind of hard to miss, considering where we're sitting." You gestured to the courtside seats that had started this whole mess.

"About that," she ran a hand through her hair, and those loose strands fell perfectly around her face in a way that had to be practiced. "I was thinking maybe we could—"

"Paige!" Nika's voice cut through whatever she'd been about to say. "Media's waiting!"

You'd never been so grateful for press obligations in your life.

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "This isn't over," she said, her voice low enough that only you could hear. Then she was gone, jogging toward the media section with that natural athletic grace that made everything look effortless.

You stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. Your skin still tingled where she'd been standing close enough to touch.

"So," Riven's voice broke through your daze. "Still think she hasn't noticed you?"

"We're going out," Riven declared, already rummaging through your closet without permission. "No arguments."

You looked up from your laptop, where you'd been desperately trying to focus on anything other than replaying the game in your head for the past two hours. "I have to—"

"If you say 'study' I will literally scream." She emerged with your one decent going-out top, the black one with the low back that you'd bought on impulse and worn exactly once. "You just watched UConn destroy Notre Dame from courtside seats while Paige Bueckers eye-fucked you in front of the entire student section. We're celebrating."

"She wasn't—" You cut yourself off, heat creeping up your neck. "And anyway, shouldn't she be celebrating with her girlfriend?"

The words tasted bitter in your mouth. You'd been trying very hard not to think about Taylor, about how Paige had crashed into your room calling out her name, about how clearly serious it must be if she was that desperate to apologize. The fact that she'd spent the entire game looking at you like... that... well, it just proved what everyone said about her, didn't it?

"Oh my god," Riven threw the shirt at your head. "Put this on. We're getting drunk and you're going to tell me everything you're overthinking about right now."

An hour later, you found yourself at The Tavern, nursing your second Moscow Mule while Riven recounted the game to anyone who would listen. The bar was packed with students celebrating the win, most still wearing their UConn gear and riding the high of victory.

"I just don't get it," you said, mostly to your drink. "Why is she suddenly so interested? I'm literally nobody. I spend my Friday nights debugging Python scripts and building robots that occasionally catch fire."

"Maybe that's exactly why," Riven waggled her eyebrows. "You're different. You don't worship the ground she walks on."

You snorted. "Right. Because what Paige Bueckers really wants is someone who told her to fuck off in the library."

The doors to The Tavern burst open, and suddenly the energy in the room shifted. A new wave of celebration swept through as the team arrived, fresh from their post-game duties. Your stomach did a complicated flip as you spotted Paige among them, now changed into fitted black jeans and a white button-down that should be illegal. Her hair was down, falling in waves that your fingers definitely didn't itch to touch.

"Speak of the devil," Riven smirked. "Want to test that theory?"

"Don't you dare—" But Riven was already waving enthusiastically, catching Nika's attention. The Croatian player's face lit up with unholy glee when she spotted you.

"Engineering girl!" Nika bounded over, dragging a very amused-looking Paige with her. "Still wearing my jacket, I see."

You started to unzip it, but she waved you off. "Keep it. It looks better on you anyway." She shot Paige a meaningful look that made your cheeks burn.

"I need another drink," Riven announced suddenly, grabbing Nika's arm. "Come show me where the team keeps their secret stash."

"We don't have a—" Nika caught on quickly, grinning. "Oh, right. That secret stash. This way."

And just like that, you were alone with Paige at the crowded bar, your body humming with awareness of how close she was standing.

"Subtle, aren't they?" Paige smiled, and for once it wasn't that practiced smirk. It was something softer, more genuine. She signaled the bartender, who materialized instantly. Must be nice being a campus celebrity.

"The usual?" The bartender asked Paige, already reaching for a bottle.

"And whatever she's having," Paige nodded toward your nearly empty Moscow Mule.

"I can buy my own drinks," you said quickly, reaching for your wallet.

Paige's lips twitched. "I know you can. But consider it part of my ongoing apology for the whole bed situation."

You raised an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "You always apologize to your drunken mistakes with expensive drinks?"

The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to snatch them back. But instead of looking offended, Paige just studied you with those impossibly intense eyes.

"Only the ones who let me cuddle their stuffed bears."

"Mr. Gummy," you corrected automatically, then immediately wanted to die. Again.

The bartender returned with your drinks, and you grabbed yours perhaps a bit too quickly, needing something to do with your hands. The Moscow Mule was perfect – strong enough to blame your burning cheeks on the alcohol.

"So," Paige said after a moment, looking far too comfortable for someone who'd just been called out on their drunken mistakes. "Engineering, huh?"

You nearly choked on your drink. "Are we really doing small talk right now?"

"Would you prefer I go back to staring at you from across the court?"

"I prefer knowing where I stand," you shot back, the alcohol making you braver than usual. "Because last I checked, you had a girlfriend you were pretty desperate to apologize to."

Something flashed across her face – regret? Embarrassment? "Taylor and I it's complicated."

"Isn't it always?" You couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of your voice. You'd heard enough stories about Paige's "complicated" situations to fill a textbook.

She turned to face you fully, and your breath caught at the unexpected vulnerability in her expression. "Look, I know what people say about me. Some of it's probably true. But Taylor and I have been over for months. That night... I was drunk and stupid because she'd started seeing someone new, and I handled it badly."

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

"By accidentally crawling into yours." Her voice dropped lower, sending involuntary shivers down your spine. "Which, in retrospect, might have been the universe doing me a favor."

You forced yourself to meet her gaze, ignoring how your heart raced at the way she was looking at you. "Does that line usually work?"

"I don't know," she smiled, and it wasn't her usual cocky smirk. It was something smaller, almost shy. "I've never used it before."

Before you could process that, a commotion erupted near the pool tables. You both turned to see Riven attempting to teach one of the team's shooting guards proper form, which seemed to involve a lot of unnecessary physical contact.

"Ten bucks says they end up making out in the bathroom," Paige said, amusement coloring her tone.

"Twenty says Riven chickens out and spends the next week telling me about all the signals she thinks she missed."

Paige laughed, and the sound did something dangerous to your insides. "You know your roommate well."

"Well enough to know she's going to interrogate me about this conversation later."

"This conversation?" Paige shifted slightly closer, and you caught that intoxicating mix of her perfume and something uniquely her. "What's there to interrogate about?"

You gestured vaguely between you. "This whole... whatever this is. Where you're suddenly interested in small talk about my major and making jokes about the universe doing you favors."

"Maybe I just want to know more about the girl who told me to fuck off in the library." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "While wearing my best friend's jacket, no less."

"That was an accident—"

"Was it?" She was definitely closer now, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Because from where I was standing, it looked a lot like a challenge."

Your grip tightened on your drink. "Not everything is about you, Bueckers."

"No," she agreed, her voice soft but intense. "But the way you've been looking at me all night? That might be."

The air between you crackled with tension. You should step back. You should remember all the stories, all the warnings, all the reasons this was a terrible idea. You should—

"There you are!" Nika's voice cut through the moment like a bucket of cold water. "Coach just texted. Team meeting tomorrow morning got moved up."

Paige's jaw clenched in frustration, but she recovered quickly. "What time?"

"Eight AM." Nika's eyes darted between you and Paige, her expression far too knowing. "Sorry to interrupt."

"You weren't," you said quickly, perhaps a bit too quickly judging by Nika's raised eyebrow.

Paige turned back to you, and the intensity in her gaze made your breath catch. "We'll finish this conversation later."

It wasn't a question.

You watched her walk away, trying to ignore how your body still hummed from her proximity. Nika lingered behind, grinning like she'd just won a bet with herself.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I've never seen her work this hard for someone's attention before."

"I'm not—" you started, but Nika was already following Paige, leaving you alone with your thoughts and a half-empty Moscow Mule.

Riven materialized beside you moments later, her eyes wide. "Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Nothing," you mumbled into your drink. "Just Paige Bueckers being Paige Bueckers."

But as you watched her gather her team to leave, she turned back just for a moment, catching your eye across the bar. The look she gave you was pure heat, a promise of more conversations to come.

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

888 notes · View notes

reidmania · 4 months ago

Text

loml | spencer reid

summary; after you and spencer reunite at JJ’s wedding after being broken up for two years, you are quick to realise it will never be the same as it was, you’re the love of his life, and he is the loss of yours.

warnings; exes to not lovers but something!! no happy ending, angst, fem reader, season 7 spence, mentions of arguments, falling back into feelings because its familiar, they are so in love, jj’s childhood friend!reader, reader wears a dress, no use of y/n cus ew, reader has long enough hair to have up, they are so meant to be its not even funny, everyone can see it. they are perfect for each other TIME IS MEAN!!!

an; hey this was ur fault ! also i made so much shit up abt the wedding because i cbf rewatching that ep tbh 🥰🥰

‘what a valiant roar, what a bland goodbye’ is this fic

also this was written in an hour and im sick and im pretty sure its horrible and doesn’t make sense but thats so okay!! lmk if u want a part two!! they deserve better pls want a part two!!

‘Who's gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames? If we know the steps anyway. we embroidered the memories, of the time I was away, stitching, "We were just kids, babe", I said, "I don't mind, it takes time" I thought I was better safe than starry-eyed. I felt aglow like this, never before and never since. if you know it in one glimpse, it's legendary. you and I go from one kiss to gettin married. still alive, killing time at the cemetery, never quite buried. in your suit and tie, in the nick of time. you lowdown boy, you stand up guy, holy ghost, you told me I'm, the love of your life’

You remembered it all too well.

The lights gleamed around the garden, there was some background music playing, quietly in the distance, probably louder for the people surrounding it. Whereas you had found yourself settled in a quieter corner of the beautifully set garden. The ceremony was beautiful, you sat through and tried to avoid shedding tears seeing someone so important so happy.

You were alone, watching the guests of the wedding dance when you felt the presence behind you. The familiar cologne filled your senses in a way that made your head spin and chest ache with familiarity and overwhelming comfort. Two years since you and smelt the cologne and it still had the same effect on you.

You remembered the conversation as if it was a broken record playing on repeat in your mind. How your head turned towards him and the smile lit up his face. Its not like you had ended on bad terms — not at all. It was a mutual agreement to break up all those years ago. You were just at two different points in your lives and it was beginning to clash.

His voice was gentle when he said your name. You had seen him around earlier, your heart had skipped a beat and your stomach filled with familiar butterflies, but you didn’t approach him. Now here he was, standing in front of you, saying your name as if no time had passed at all.

You repeated his name back, a smile on your face as you stood up from the white garden chair that had been delicately placed around the table. His arms enveloped you almost as soon as you were standing. You could recall the way they felt, safe, secure and the exact same as they had two years beforehand.

“You look great” He had mumbled into your hair, his hands pressing against the small of your back, furthering your presence against him, trailing of the silk of the floor length dress you had worn, face buried into your hair as if he had been waiting his entire life for this moment.

Your hands rested on the back of either of his shoulders, head resting against the front of his shoulder. You were sure he could feel the small breath of air you let out against his neck before you pulled yourself away from the hug. “So do you. It’s been so long.” You had said, eyes trailing over his face, taking in every noticeable change since the last time you had seen him.

“Too long.” He agreed, eyes mirroring yours as they danced along your features, as if he was committing it to memory.

The words had made your chest tighten and warm all at once. It wasn’t long before you were sitting at an empty table, catching up. You told him about everything that had changed in your time apart as did you. And then the topic swiftly changed as the two of you danced along fond memories of your years spent together.

“We were so young” He mumbled after you had recalled a specific memory of the two of you having pillow fights on late Saturday nights, a small thing that became a common ritual every night Spencer had been home on a Saturday. Your smiled had widened at his words — although only two years ago the maturity between you both and grown massively.

He added quickly as he reached out to take your hand, a familiar movement you had been neglected of the last two years. “I was too young, immature.. You always deserved more than what I could’ve given you then.” His words were sweet and sincere yet you begged to differ.

“I think that was the happiest i’ve ever been.” You recalled. Everyday spent with Spencer was a memory you kept safe in a secure part of your mind. You looked back at photos from that time, there was a certain gleam in your eye, one that wasn’t found in any photo recently, despite being content with your place in life currently.

Being with Spencer was a sort of fever dream, a sort of perfect you’d only find in a film or a romance novel, things like falling asleep while he read to you, or slow dancing in the dim moon light that gleamed through the kitchen window at late hours, small love notes left around the house, that was something that you failed to find anywhere else — not for a lack of looking.

His eyes stayed on yours, his skin glowing under the warmed yellow lighting of the fairy lights that dazzled the garden with their gleam, his eyes holding a certain sparkle you could only describe as nostalgia. “Me too.” He had said, eyes dropping from yours to your hand in his.

You didn’t know what to say. Your heart soared with the warmth from his touch, your mind fogging from any sense of realism, until your thumb traced his knuckles and it lacked the familiarity everything else did. His hands had grown rougher, more callous although the same soft in your touch.

“Dance with me?” He offered, eyes lifting to meet yours again. Voice gentle and barely above a whisper as if he was scared you would reject him, maybe even more scared you would accept and it wouldn’t be the same as it was.

You nodded, accepting anyways.

His hands dragged yours to the crowd of other people dancing. His hands moved to wrap gently around your waist, your arms slinging over his shoulders to wrap around his neck as his arms pulled you in close. Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

The music fell into background noise as your focus was pulled instead to the sound of his gentle breathing, and slow heartbeat as his head rested atop of yours that was press into his shoulder. You fell into step as if no time had passed at all, you swayed gently in his arms.

“I’ve missed you.” His words came out as a whisper and your heart pulled. This was wrong, you could feel it in your stomach yet the thought was quickly replaced by the feeling of home that buried itself in your ribcage as his hands trailed gently up and down your sides in a soothing familiar motion.

You wanted to reply and tell him you had missed him too, that every night you laid in bed and recalled every last moment between you too. How people from your past still asked about him, how their faces fell when you laughed and admitted you were no longer together.

You wanted to tell him that in the time that had passed you had still the framed photos in a box under your bed, how you hadn’t changed a single detail in your apartment just in case one day he came over. You wanted it to be familiar.

It was, This was. Everything about Spencer was familiar and it was safe.

“I think we needed the time.” You exhaled out, honestly. Maybe if you were to try again now it would end up differently. Maybe he was right in what he said earlier — you were both too immature to handle the intensity of the love the streamed between you. The pull that seemed magnetic the minute your eyes laid on his.

He hummed gently as his arms stopped their movements on your side and instead rewrapped themselves around your waist, dancing down your back, holding you close as he inhaled your scent. This was all he ever wanted.

“Everyone still tells me I was a fool for letting you go, that I was meant to be with you. I think they were right.” He mumbled out into your hair. You remembered being told the same thing. You remembered your friends telling you how sorry they were and how they could have never imagined you and Spencer ever breaking up, ‘you guys were the great love story’ they had rambled.

You shook your head against his shoulder. It was meant to happen like that. Maybe this was all you would ever be. Meant to happen, but never actually happening.

“Maybe” You exhaled, unable to bring yourself to say more as you relished in the moment. The distance of the last two years between you both seemed to disappear as your focus remained on everything that was the same.

The difference, he was different, you were different. Your likes and dislikes had changed, as you assumed his. How if you were to try again you would have to relearn one another. Everything he once knew about you was a distant memory, a familiar reminder of what had once been. Of what was once lost.

His lips pressed against the side of your head and your heart pressed against your chest uncomfortably as your heart beat increased. His hands left a burning trail on your skin even over the fabric of your dress. It was too similar, and too different all at once.

The love between you and Spencer was loud. You loved each other loudly. It was never meant to be a secret, everyone saw it in the shared glances, even now, in the way his touch was significantly gentler with you than anyone else, how your body relaxed in his grasp.

The love between you was loudest in the silence.

Everyone could see it.

Your mind burnt with the memory of the night you broke up, he brought the idea of a breakup up. He suggested it and you whole heartedly agreed. Not for a lack of love. You both mutually expressed the amount of love you had for each other throughout the entire conversation. It just wasn’t the right time. The conversation happened, he mumbled out ‘don’t be a stranger’ as he kissed your forehead in the doorway of your home.

You had let out a wet chuckle as his fingers brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, similar ones on his own. You agreed, he mumbled an I love you, and then a ‘ill see you soon’

And you hadn’t seen him since.

Until now.

You hadn’t been bitter about it. You were partially glad you hadn’t seen him. You knew if given the chance in those two years you would’ve ran back to him in an instant. Told him how you were sure your heart hadn’t been beating regularly without him by your side, then listened to him ramble about the science of broken heart syndrome as you pressed soft kisses against every inch of his face.

“Whats going on in your pretty head?” He asked. You let out a laugh at his sweet words. The sentence something he had used numerous times throughout the years of your relationship whenever you found yourself lost in thought.

Everything had changed, yet stayed the exact same.

“I don’t think I’ll ever move on from us.” You mumbled out honestly. The words a weight on your chest, a truth that had been buried down your throat you failed to admit to anyone else.

His touch provided a specific burn against your skin, his voice playing an irreplaceable melody in your mind, his sweet words and whispered nothings written on every butterfly that filled your stomach, his eyes unparalleled to another. the feeling in your chest that only he could arise. the smile on your face only he could provide, the gleam in your eyes only present when he was too.

He had left a mark on you, your relationship had left you in a daze for the last two years without you even realising it. nothing would provide the same fulfilment as being by his side did.

Every feeling with him had been new and original, a sort of happiness you didn’t know was humanly possible. You were pretty sure he provided you with a dangerous amount of dopamine, an addictive amount.

If Spencer was a drug, then you had been going through withdrawals for years.

“I know I will never move on from us” His admission carried a different weight than yours did. Despite being the same the meaning was different.

it left your heart heavy and regret flowering in your chest.

“I should go, I told my roommate i’d be home early.” You whispered out, against the soft fabric of his suit jacket. His arms tightened around you momentarily before releasing his hold on you.

His eyes were lidded when he looked down at your face, your arms fell from his shoulders and your stomach twisted at the familiarity of the loss of his touch.

“Don’t be a stranger.” He said, voice quiet, meaningful and honest and you felt an overwhelming urge to vomit. Everything left unsaid over the last two years coming up in the back of your throat but remaining unsaid.

“I won’t.” You promised.

His lips pressed against your forehead as he squeezed your waist gently, before letting you go.

The movement was natural, like you would spend every day of the rest of your life doing it. as if you would wake up in the morning tangled a-mess in his arms, the you would find yourself a giggling mess during a pillow fight on an upcoming Saturday night. As if you were finally going to happen.

You didn’t see him again after you left that night.

You burnt with the memory of his arms and his lips against your skin that night for the next years of your life.

For a love so loud everything seemed so quiet. You recalled the goodbye between you two that seemed so peaceful and tame, an understatement of the love that blossomed when in one another’s presence.

An invalidation of everything he had made you feel.

For a great love story, someone had to experience a great loss.

And he was yours.

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zombvic · 6 months ago

Note

enemies to lovers w kenan??🙏🙏

EYE TO EYE (kenan yildiz x reader)

summary : in which y/n and a certain turkish-german football player dont see eye to eye

face claim : no one exact

notes : thank you for the request !! hope its like you wanted :3

pairings : kenan yildiz x reader , childhood "enemies"

Ever since you can remember, Kenan has been a constant presence in your life. From childhood, you two never saw eye to eye. He was always around, whether it was a family dinner, a holiday gathering, or a neighborhood barbecue. The day your families became intertwined marked the start of what seemed like the ideal love story—the boy and girl next door. But reality was far from that.

As your families grew closer, it seemed like opposites attracted for them. Kenan was considered the typical jock: charismatic, popular, always surrounded by friends, and stereotypically, a football player. You, on the other hand, were far more reserved but possessed a strangely attractive confidence.

Kenan always challenged you. As the years passed, your dynamic didn't change. Your parents wanted you to be friends, but neither of you made the effort. Despite your parents' close friendship and frequent attempts to foster a bond between you, neither cared enough.

As you both grew older, the dynamics shifted subtly. The teasing evolved into playful banter, and the challenges turned into a mutual respect for each other's strengths. Yet, beneath the surface, there was an unspoken understanding that perhaps there was more to your relationship than met the eye.

"Y/n, the Yildiz family invited us for a get-together. Make sure you're on your best behavior," your mother said. You never really understood it; it wasn't you who made a huge deal out of your petty arguments. Hell, it wasn't even you who started the arguments. But it was never Kenan who got scolded; no, he was too perfect for that, wasn't he?

"And please, no more fighting. The last barbecue was more than enough." Ah, yes, the last barbecue—it ended with a small fire and a broken ankle. Obviously, it was my ankle; his football career would be in shambles if he broke his ankle during a friends and family event. But it wasn't my fault; he brought up the famous debate of who's the GOAT of Formula 1. I mean, you're literally German, what do you mean you don't think Schumi is the GOAT? The debate was supposed to be settled by a friendly game of pingpong, but it didn't end so friendly. What was I supposed to do, not dodge the racket he THREW at me? In my humble opinion, my actions were more than justified.

As my mom knocked on their front door, we were greeted by Engin, Kenan's father. Their house was cozy, shared between the parents and three boys. Every time we went over, the atmosphere was welcoming.

Kenan stood at the doorway, a sheepish grin on his face as he welcomed us inside. "Hey, Y/n," he greeted me, his tone surprisingly friendly despite our history.

"Hey," I replied, trying to mask the uneasy feeling his presence always seemed to stir in me. His eyes held some sort of amusement, as if he could sense my discomfort. I walked past to enter the familiar space of their kitchen connected to the backyard entrance.

Engin ushered us towards the backyard where the rest of the family and a few guests were gathered around the barbecue grill. Kenan's brothers were playing football in the yard, their laughter blending with the hum of conversation.

"Hope you're hungry," Engin chuckled, flipping a burger on the grill. "We've got plenty to go around."

Kenan slid next to me as we walked to the table, his voice low. "So, how's life?" he asked with genuine interest.

I hesitated for a moment, surprised by his sudden sincerity. "Um, it's been alright," I replied cautiously. "Busy with school and all."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I get that. Are you still into that video editing thing you were doing last summer?"

I couldn't help but feel a twinge of surprise that he remembered. "Yeah, actually. I've gotten some offers from certain companies."

"That's really cool," he said with a nod, a hint of admiration in his voice.

We reached the table where the food was laid out, and Kenan held out a plate for me to take first. I couldn't help but notice the small gesture of consideration, a far cry from our usual banter or tense interactions.

"Thanks," I said quietly, feeling a flicker of warmth towards him that I hadn't expected. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to Kenan than the cocky football player I always assumed him to be.

As the evening went on, the atmosphere at the barbecue shifted from tentative civility to a surprising ease between Kenan and Y/n. Engin's expert grilling skills were matched by his knack for storytelling, keeping everyone entertained with humorous anecdotes from his youth. The smell of grilled meat filled the air, mingling with laughter and the occasional cheer from the ongoing soccer match in the yard.

Kenan and Y/n found themselves drawn into a playful banter over who could stack their burger higher with toppings, each trying to outdo the other with combinations that ranged from classic to unconventional. It became a mini competition, with Kenan daring Y/n to try his "ultimate burger creation" while she countered with her own daring concoction of flavors.

"You're seriously putting pineapple and jalapenos together?" Kenan raised an eyebrow, eyeing Y/n's bold choice of toppings skeptically.

"Why not?" Y/n grinned mischievously, carefully balancing the overflowing tower of burger ingredients. "It's a winning combo."

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head in mock disbelief as he expertly flipped another burger on the grill. "Alright, I'll admit, you've got guts. Let's see if it actually tastes as good as it looks."

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the backyard, Kenan's brothers approached with mischievous grins on their faces. "Hey, Kenan! Y/n! How about a friendly game of football?" they called out enthusiastically, kicking a soccer ball playfully towards them.

Kenan glanced at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "You guys sure you want to challenge us? You might regret it," he teased, his competitive spirit already rising to the surface.

Y/n chuckled, feeling a surprising rush of excitement at the prospect of playing alongside Kenan instead of against him for once. "Bring it on, boys," she replied confidently, flashing a grin that mirrored Kenan's.

With a nod from Kenan, they divided into teams—Kenan and Y/n against his brothers. The game started with playful banter and competitive energy, but something shifted as they played. Kenan's skill on the field was undeniable, his passes precise and his movements fluid. Y/n found herself naturally falling into sync with him, their teamwork surprisingly effortless.

They communicated with quick glances and nods, strategizing on the fly and covering each other's positions seamlessly. Kenan's brothers put up a good fight, but Kenan and Y/n's teamwork proved to be a formidable force.

"Nice pass!" Kenan called out as Y/n dribbled past Eren with skillful footwork, earning an approving nod from him.

"You're pretty good at football, Kenan. You should consider becoming a professional," Y/n joked with a playful smirk.

Kenan chuckled, shaking his head modestly. "I don't know about that. I'd probably miss all the glamour of backyard games like this."

"Get a room, lovebirds," His brothers teased from the sidelines, a mischievous grin on their face.

Y/n rolled her eyes, playfully nudging Kenan. "Ignore him. They're just jealous that we make a better team than they do."

The game continued with laughter, cheers, and occasional playful taunts exchanged between teams. As the friendly competition progressed, Kenan and you found themselves enjoying each other's company in a way they hadn't before. The usual tension and rivalry gave way to shared goals and a shared sense of accomplishment each time they scored or defended together.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky and the game wound down, The brothers conceded defeat with good humor, congratulating Kenan and Y/n on their victory.

"You guys were awesome!" Kenans brother exclaimed, grinning broadly as he bumped fists with Kenan and Y/n. "We'll have to challenge you again sometime."

Kenan chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder. "Anytime, little bro. Just be prepared to lose again," he teased playfully.

As they gathered their breath and laughter echoed in the cooling evening air, Y/n couldn't help but feel a newfound sense of camaraderie with Kenan. Working together had brought out a side of him she hadn't seen before—the focused, determined athlete who also knew how to have fun and appreciate teamwork.

"Thanks for the game, Y/n," Kenan said quietly, his tone sincere as he glanced at her with a soft smile.

You nodded, feeling a smile tug at your lips in response. "Likewise, Kenan. It was... refreshing," she admitted, surprising herself with the honesty of her words.

As they shared a meaningful smile, the evening continued with laughter, shared stories, and the hope for more moments like this—where they weren't basically on the verge of killing eachother, but actual friends, if not more.

im sorry this kinda doesnt have plot and sounds kinda npc but erm ! ignore that plz

#fanfiction #football imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz #juventus fc #fluff

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austinbutlerslovers · 3 months ago

Text

One Night in Budapest

Label 18+

During your girls’ trip abroad,you make a stop in Budapest. After a day of sightseeing, you and your friends settle into a hidden gem restaurant for local Hungarians. Unbeknownst to you, Austin Butler is a frequent patron, currently in the city filming “Dune: Part Two.” When you see him, you instantly recognize who he is, and after he makes eye contact, the connection is undeniable. He joins your table, and after some lively conversation, he asks you to join him the next day for a private tour of his villa where things quickly become intimate.

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Instant attraction • sexual hesitation • mutual stimulation in a hot tub (hand job fingering)•foreplay •nipple play • size kink• passionate P in V • protection •multiple orgasms

📖 Proof Reader @purejasmine 🔗 Master List

One Night in Budapest

The cobblestone streets of Budapest are alive with the movements of tourists and locals, creating a lively backdrop as you and your two girlfriends, Emma and Sophie, soak in the city’s energy. On holiday, the three of you are enjoying every moment, your passports already brimming with stamps from countless exotic locations.

Now in Budapest, you find yourself captivated by the stunning architecture and the lively atmosphere surrounding you.

Your itinerary takes you to some of the city’s most iconic landmarks: the grand Chain Bridge, the soothing Széchenyi Thermal Bath, and the imposing Buda Castle. Each stop feels more awe-inspiring than the last. As the sun sets, casting a warm, golden glow over the Danube River, the three of you decide it’s time to find the perfect place to eat.

You stumble upon a quaint little restaurant tucked away in a narrow alley, its glass front revealing a charming patio adorned with vibrant flowers and flickering lanterns. The rustic charm, along with the enticing smell of Hungarian delicacies, draws you in.

Inside, the cozy courtyard features wooden beams overhead and candlelit tables that create a warm ambiance. You are seated at a table near the window, excitement building within you as you prepare to indulge in the local cuisine.

As you look over the menu, you glance up and notice a familiar face, Austin Butler, the actor deep in conversation standing next to a table of another group of guests.

His presence is magnetic, and it’s hard not to steal glances. He’s covered almost head to toe in a makeshift disguise: a trench coat, a hoodie, and a brimmed hat. But his gorgeous blue eyes are unmistakable. They shine with an intensity and depth that draw you in, even from across the room.

His disguise might hide him from most, but you recognize him instantly. The way he moves, the subtle confidence in his gestures, and the warmth in his laugh are all unmistakable. He seems relaxed and easygoing, exuding a casual charm despite the efforts to stay incognito.

He unexpectedly laughs at something the other person says, and the sound is so rich and genuine you’re transfixed, caught in the spell of his charisma.

As if he can sense your stare, his gaze suddenly meets yours and his eyes sparkle with intense curiosity. A faint smile tugs at the corners of his lips when he sees you and the connection is undeniable.

As the waiter takes your orders, you notice Austin wrapping up his conversation with the other table of guests. Your heart races as he starts walking toward your table, his tall, striking figure commanding attention as he approaches.

You look up at him from your seat and can’t help but feel a surge of excitement and disbelief at how tall and handsome he is in person.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, his voice smooth, accompanied by a disarming smile.

You and your girlfriends exchange stunned glances, barely containing your excitement before nodding eagerly and responding in unison, “Yes!”

Austin’s smile deepens, and he slides into the seat next to you, his warm, easy demeanor making the moment surreal.

After a round of introductions, you and your friends find yourselves deep in conversation with Austin, who turns out to be just as engaging and down to earth as he appears on screen.

He shares stories of his travels, film projects, and his time exploring Budapest. His laughter is contagious, and the way he listens, genuinely interested in your stories, makes each of you feel seen and appreciated.

As he speaks you begin to admire all of is stunning features finding what strikes you most about him is his unwavering eye contact which draws you in.

“So, what brings you to Budapest?” he asks, his voice lowering as he focuses all his attention on you.

You momentarily falter, searching for the right words, the intensity of his blue eyes sending a thrill through you.

“W-we’re on a girls’ holiday,” you recover, gesturing to your friends,.“We wanted a break from the usual tourist destinations to explore somewhere new.”

As you speak, you can’t help but admire the way his full lips curl into a knowing smile, a flicker of attraction in his eyes igniting a warmth in your chest.

You think Austin Butler might actually be into you, and the thought makes you bite your lip to contain your smile. The moment his eye linger on yours longer than necessary, you feel the pull of curiosity, you wonder how far this could go and lean a little closer as you ask,

“What about you, Austin? What brings you to Budapest?” You ask with a flirtatious tone hinting at another question lingering in the air: does he want you?

“Mmm, work mostly,” he says, unable to contain his smile, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as if he’s holding something back.

“What are you working on in Budapest?” you pry more, noticing how it excites him to keep a secret from you.

“It’s all under wraps,” he replies with a teasing grin.

“That’s too bad. I really wanted to know,” you say, letting your playful tone linger.

Austin rests his hand on his chin, a mischievous look in his eyes as a smile plays on his lips while he studies you.

“You’re not going to let me leave without sharing, are you?” He asks and the way his eyes meet yours tells you everything you need to know.

“Well, if it’s all under wraps…” you say in a mock-serious tone, delicately picking up a juicy cherry from your plate. As you take a teasing bite, the sweet flavor bursts in your mouth and you lock eyes with him as he watches as you lick the vibrant red juice glistening on your lips.

You savor the moment, your gaze still holding his, a playful challenge in your expression.

He stares at you, entranced. “I’m playing Feyd-Rautha, Paul Atreides’ arch-nemesis in Dune: Part Two,” he outright admits, captivated by your subtle hint of intimacy.

“So you’re a bad guy?” you grin, glancing at him with a seductive look in your eyes, the knowledge heightening your attraction to him even more.

Before Austin can reply, his assistant approaches with urgency.

“Hey, Austin, we’ve got another engagement this evening,” she says, gently reminding him of his schedule.

A flicker of reluctance crosses his face,clearly not ready for the night to end and as he stands and he looks at you with a smile that sends a rush of excitement through you.

“I’m staying at a villa just outside the city,” he says, his voice soft and inviting.

“Come tomorrow morning, I’d love to show you around.”

Your heart races at the unexpected invitation. You glance at your girlfriends, and they nod eagerly, almost too enthusiastically.

“I’d love to,” you reply trying to contain your excitement as you gaze up at him thinking of all the endless possibilities his invitation brings.

You exchange phone numbers, and for a moment, he hesitates, his gaze still lingering on yours.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, his tone full of promise.

As Austin leaves, you can barely contain your excitement.

The moment he’s out the door, you all burst into excited whispers, your joy so overwhelming that you blurt out, “He invited me to his villa?!” startling the other diners.

You hold up your hand apologetically, your cheeks flushed from the thrill and when the bill comes, you notice it has already been paid in full by Austin.

The Villa

The next morning, you arrive at the villa, a stunning property nestled in the rolling hills overlooking Budapest. It is a blend of modern luxury and classical elegance, with ivy-covered walls, expansive gardens, and a panoramic view of the city. As you walk up the driveway, you are greeted by none other than Timothée Chalamet, Zendaya, and Florence Pugh, all in casual hiking gear.

“Hey, welcome!” Timothée calls out, waving enthusiastically. Zendaya and Florence join him, offering warm smiles and friendly greetings.

“We were all just about to go on a hike,” Zendaya explains. “But it looks like Austin has other plans for you.” She says with a hint of playful sarcasm.

Florence giggles. “We’ll see you later… much later,” she adds, hinting that you’ll have the place to yourselves.

Then the trio heads off, leaving you to see Austin waiting at the front door, leaning against the frame.

He greets you with a warm hug and a smile, keeping his arm around you “I’m so glad you made it,” he says gently as you walk together.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all morning.” He admits leading you inside

You feel a flutter of excitement from his touch. “Me too,” you reply, your voice betraying your nerves and anticipation.

He gives you a reassuring squeeze as he continues, “I can’t wait to show you around. This place is fascinating”

As you walk through the villa, his arm resting comfortably around your shoulders, Austin points out various features, sharing little stories along the way. “This is the lounge,” he says, gesturing to the grand piano in the corner. “I like to play a bit when I need to unwind.”.

He guides you into the living room, an inviting space with soaring ceilings and a mix of modern and classical touches.

The furniture is elegant, complementing the contemporary style, and the expansive windows frame breathtaking views of the pool and the city stretching out beyond.

“This is one of my favorite views,” Austin says, leading you to the window. “Look, you can see all of Budapest from here.” He points, and your eyes follow, landing on the Chain Bridge spanning the Danube, connecting the two sides of the city

“This is amazing, Austin,” you say, astonished as you take in the view.

He smiles, his gaze lingering on you as you admire the cityscape. There’s something in his eyes, a subtle flicker of desire.

“It’s especially beautiful in the evenings,” he says softly “When the sun sets and the city lights start to twinkle on the water’s edge. Maybe you’d like to see it?” He asks, his voice warm, his eyes holding yours with a subtle seduction.

Your heart skips a beat as you answer. “I’d like that,” gazing into the depths of his blue eyes. He smiles at you and brings his hand down your waist ”Come on we haven’t finished our tour” he says guiding you from the living room.

As Austin walks with you to the private quarters of the villa he opens up about filming for Dune Part Two. He describes the elaborate sets and the intense action sequences without giving too much away.

As he continues the tour, you and Austin start bonding over your shared love of travel. He talks about his time in Budapest, describing his favorite spots in the city and his appreciation for his other travel destinations such as Rome and Spain.

You listen closely, captivated by his stories and the genuine passion behind his words. With every moment, you feel a deepening connection forming as the two of you explore the villa together, your conversations flowing naturally.

Eventually, his tour brings you to a large staircase. “There’s one more thing I want to show you, it’s a rooftop terrace,” he says, his eyes lighting up with excitement.” Then, with a playful grin, he adds, “You’ll need swimwear for this.”

His gaze flickers down your body momentarily before meeting your eyes again, his smile mischievous yet warm.

“Do you want to see it?” he asks, his voice filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely!” you reply, eager to see what he has planned for you.

He leads you to a tiled lounge, where several bikinis are laid out on a chaise lounge. “Pick whichever one you like,” he says with a smile. “I’ll wait outside. No rush.”

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, you browse through the selection and finally choose a bikini that makes you feel confident.

Once you’re ready, you step out to find Austin waiting for you, now in swim wear. His athletic frame is even more striking in the sunlight, his toned abs and broad shoulders immediately catching your eye.

“You look amazing,” you both say at the same time exchanging smiles.

“No, really—you look incredible,” he says, his voice full of genuine admiration.

You feel your cheeks flush at the compliment. “Thanks,” you reply with s smile. “You look incredible too,” you add, and his face lights up with a broad grin pleased by your words.

He takes your hand, and the two of you head upstairs to the rooftop.

When you step out onto the terrace, the view takes your breath away. The entire city of Budapest is spread out before you, with the river sparkling under the morning sun, creating a picture-perfect scene.

The terrace is beautifully decorated, with plush lounge chairs arranged around a pristine hot tub. The vibrant colors of the cushions complement the surrounding landscape, and the water in the hot tub steams invitingly in the crisp morning air. The entire setting feels serene and luxurious, like something out of a dream.

As you both take in the breathtaking view, Austin turns to you with that signature charming smile, his eyes glancing toward the hot tub.

“Would you want to get in with me?” he asks, his voice sincere yet playful.

Your heart flutters, a mix of excitement and curiosity rising within as you wonder what his true intentions are feeling more tempted by him every second

“Sure” you reply, your voice tinged with anticipation.

He guides you toward the hot tub, offering a steady hand as you step closer. You carefully step in and the heat instantly eases the tension from your body as you sink into the bubbling water. Austin climbs in after you, settling into the tub with a contented sigh.

You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment, the warm water and stunning view creating a sense of calm. You exchange a smile with Austin, feeling a sense of peace and gratitude for this unexpected experience. Everything about the moment feels perfect.

As you soak in the bubbling water, Austin leans in closer, wrapping his arm around you with a coy smile.

“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot today,” he says, staring off into the distance for a moment, his expression softening. “How life surprises you in ways you don’t expect.”

You nod in agreement, feeling a sense of calm and comfort spread through you, anchored by his presence. “I’m glad you’re here,” he adds, his voice sincere and warm.

“What is it about me?” you ask, your curiosity of his intentions finally getting the better of you.

He pauses, as if weighing his next words carefully then his eyes lock with yours as he speaks.

“The moment I saw you in that restaurant, I honestly couldn’t take my eyes off you,” he confesses, his voice raw with honesty. “There’s just something about you—something captivating, irresistible.”

Your heart skips a beat at his words, and a thrill of excitement rushing through you. The air between you feels charged as his hand brushes against yours. When your fingers intertwine together it sends a rush of warmth through your body.

“I knew I had to find a way to get to know you better,” he continues, his voice now softer, almost intimate.

“And now that you’re here with me, I know I made the right choice.” His smile is charming, his blue eyes filled with that same magnetism that drew you in from the start.

Before he can say another word, you act on impulse placing your hands to his jaw and pressing your lips on to his.

The kiss is perfect, sending a surge of emotions through you that you hadn’t anticipated. It’s a moment of pure instinct and passion, and for a brief second, Austin is stunned by your boldness.

As the kiss deepens, you feel him relax into it, his hands sliding to your waist, the connection between you intensifying with every heartbeat. In this moment, you know for sure you’re going to sleep with Austin Butler.

What else could he have expected, inviting a girl to his home so soon after meeting her the previous day?

Without breaking the kiss, you shift, climbing into his lap, your legs straddling him. The heat of his body against yours sending a thrill through you as your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his swim trunks.

He gasps softly into your mouth, his body tensing beneath your touch. Your fingertips trace a delicate paths down his abs. Then, you find it—his big hard cock. He is much larger than you expected and your fingers wrap around the thickness in reverence as your bodies press together.

He pulls away from the kiss, his breathing uneven, and you stare at each other, his eyes clouded with conflicting thoughts.

You can tell by the way he pants, by the way his gaze flickers between desire and restraint, that he’s battling something in his mind. “Do you thi…” is all he manages to say before you kiss him again, silencing the hesitation you feel building within him.

Your heart races, caught between the thrill of the moment and the intense connection you feel with Austin. There’s a part of you that wants to slow down, to take things at a pace he’s comfortable with, but you don’t have the patience for that. You’re both here, in this moment, and you can feel the insatiable need between you.

You take his hand from your waist and push his fingers into your bikini making his cock twitch in your hand.

A low moan escapes him as you push his fingers to explore you. He slips them through your slickness, his touch tender and commanding as he coaxes you into surrender of the pleasure that’s quickly building inside.

A soft moan escapes your mouth, swallowed by his kiss as every brush of his fingers sends waves of pleasure coursing through you.

His fingers easily slip inside you pushing to a depth that has you break the kiss with a loud moan, your body arching into him. The feeling is intimate, and intense, each thrust of his fingers making your breath hitch as your heart races. It’s like he knows exactly how to touch you, how to drive you deeper into that state of blissful surrender.

The sight of him with his hair and lashes wet is surreal. You look down at his powerful body, muscles flexing beneath his wet skin, and it makes your breath catch in your throat. It feels like a dream.

Your hand begins firmly stroking his cock and you feel his hard shaft pulse in your grip as he captures your lips again, this time with more urgency, his fingers thrusting into you with a deliberate rhythm, matching the intensity of his kisses.

His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady as his kisses grow deeper, more passionate. He suddenly slows his thrusts and pulls back from the kiss, leaving you confused.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs against your lips, his breath warm and heavy. “Do you want this?”

“Austin, of course” you whisper, your voice trembling with anticipation and desire. “I want all of you.”

A satisfied grin spreads across his lips, and his fingers move inside you once again with purpose, guiding you to the edge. His thrusts are deliberate, each one sending you spiraling closer and closer until the sensation becomes too much to bear.

The warm water laps against your skin, heightening the pleasure as he unexpectedly makes you come, your body trembling against his as waves of ecstasy wash over you.

He continues to stroke your inner walls as you ride out the orgasm, your breath coming in short gasps as you cling to him breathing softly against his neck. The sensation is overwhelming as he knows just the right way to touch you to have you falling apart.

When you catch your breath, you look into his eyes, the connection between you even stronger now. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel,” you whisper, your voice laced with promise.

Austin’s eyes lock onto yours, filled with longing. “I want that,” he says, his voice carrying a blend of anticipation and vulnerability. “I’m yours.”

You kiss him hard and demanding melting away all his reservations and stroke his cock firmly feeling the way he throbs in your hand, a steady pulse that becomes more urgent with every passing second.

His breath quickens, each inhale sharp and shallow, his chest rising and falling in time with your strokes as you on increase the pace. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the desire, the need building in his gaze.

“Fuck that feels good” he breathes, his voice barely audible over the soft sound of the water.

His body tenses beneath your touch, his hips shifting slightly, pushing into your hand as if he can’t help but seek more. The heat radiating from him intensifies, his cock pulsing harder with every stroke, and you know he’s getting close.

His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he lets out another low groan, his breath coming faster, more ragged.

He groans louder as you continue stroking him, your movements becoming faster, more powerful. His entire body seems to respond, shuddering as the tension coils tighter and tighter within him.

His lips part as he gasps, the sound filled with both pleasure and desperation, and you can feel the way his thighs tense beneath the you, his body teetering on the edge of release.

The moans that begin to escape his lips fuel your own arousal, and you find yourself lost in the moment, wanting nothing more than to bring him the same ecstasy he gave you.

He takes a sharp inhale, his breath catching as his eyes squeeze shut, his whole body trembling with the intensity of it. “Don’t stop “ gasps, his voice strained with need. “I’m gonna come.”

You quicken your movements, your hand gliding feverishly over his length and his hips buck against your hand with each stroke, seeking more as the pleasure surges through him, building to a breaking point.

His thighs tense, his entire body going rigid as he fights to hold back, but it’s clear he’s past the point of no return.

With a final, shuddering moan, Austin’s body locks, and he spills himself into your hand, his release warm as it mixes with the water around you. His hips jerk forward one last time, his cock throbbing in your grip as he lets go completely, the tension draining from his body.

He shudders, his grip on you loosening as the aftershocks ripple through him, leaving him utterly spent and breathless.

When he looks at you it is with pure, unfiltered gratitude in his gaze. “You’re incredible,” he says, clearly still trying to form a coherent thought. “I needed that and I didn’t even know it” he admits.

“When you said that life has unexpected surprises, I thought this was what you meant,” you respond playfully.

Austin grins, running a hand through his damp hair. “Well, I’m definitely surprised. Honestly, I was just trying to impress you today.” He confesses.

His admission catches you off guard, and your heart sinks at his sincerity. He wasn’t even thinking this would happen; he just wanted to make a good impression.

“Austin your so kind I didn’t mean to…” your words trail off, suddenly feeling self-conscious, but his warm smile eases your worry.

“I wanted you,” he says, his voice taking on a seductive tone, his eyes gleaming with unspoken desire.

His expression turns serious for a moment as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “Stay the night?”he asks, his voice is soft, but his intentions are undeniable.

“I thought that’s what you meant when you said the view looks better at night,” you reply playfully leaning in pressing your chest to his.

“It is now,” he says with a grin, his lips brushing yours as a mischievous look plays on his face.

Night Life

After you shower, you find Austin dressed in a white short-sleeved tee and light denim jeans in a king ropes trucker hat. He smiles softly and takes your hand, leading you to spend the afternoon together.

You sit beside him at the piano, resting your head against his shoulder, while he plays a gentle melody, his fingers dancing effortlessly across the keys. Every now and then, he glances at you with a warm smile, and you can’t help but feel completely at ease.

Later, as you relax on the couch, your head resting in his lap, he reads aloud from a book, his voice calm and soothing as his fingers gently run along the pages. The afternoon feels timeless, just the two of you savoring the quiet moments.

A private chef arrives, setting up in the kitchen to prepare dinner. You and Austin pause for a moment to watch, sharing a glance as the delicious dishes covering the table

Before long, Zendaya, Timothée, and Florence return from their hike, looking famished. When everyone is ready, you all sit down together to enjoy gulyás, a traditional Hungarian goulash.

Alongside the meal, you all sip on pálinka, a strong fruit brandy that adds a touch of warmth to the afternoon.

The conversation flows easily, laughter filling the air as you share stories and enjoy each other’s company.

After the meal, with everyone full and a little tipsy, Florence grins and suggests,

“Why don’t we head out to a local spot and dance the night away?” Zendaya quickly pulls out her phone, finding a popular bar called Insta Fogas that’s known for its lively atmosphere. She opens the Bolt app, calling a car for all of you.

Before long, you’re walking along Kazinczy Street, where the nightlife buzzes with energy. Austin holds your hand, walking ahead as he leads you. He glances back at you occasionally with a playful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

Once inside Insta Fogas, the music pulses through the air, and the group wastes no time getting on the dance floor. You all take shots of Unicum, a famous Hungarian herbal liqueur, before dancing to the beats of Fluor Tomi, one of Hungary’s most popular rappers. The night becomes a whirlwind of music, laughter, and movement as you lose yourself in the moment.

With Austin by your side, his arm around your waist as you dance together, it feels like the best night of your life. You don’t want it to end, this perfect blend of freedom, joy, and connection making you wish the night could last forever.

You all return to the villa around 1 a.m., with Timothée shouting wildly as he bursts through the front doors.

Without hesitation, he strips off his designer shirt, then kicks off his socks and shoes, and sprints straight to the pool.

The loud splash sends water flying everywhere, making Zendaya and Florence collapse into each other, laughing uncontrollably. Timothée comes up for air, yelling in excitement and splashing around wildly.

“Get in here!” he calls out playfully to them but they are still unable to contain their laughter at his spontaneity.

You and Austin sink into the couch together, the warmth of the drinks settling heavily in your veins. He takes off his King Ropes hat and runs a hand through his sandy blonde hair, tousling it slightly before wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close.

His body feels warm against yours, a comforting presence as you both relax into the quiet of the moment, enjoying the stillness of the night.

“Look at the view,” he says gently, nodding toward the large window. You follow his gaze and see the glimmering lights of Budapest spread out before you, the city glowing under the night sky.

“It’s breathtaking,” you whisper in astonishment, your eyes brightening at the stunning sight. When you turn back to Austin, the sparkle in his eyes mirrors the beauty of the city, and for a moment, everything feels perfect.

You kiss him deeply, your hands trailing down his chest as he pulls you closer, his mouth molding perfectly to yours with each kiss. His hands slide down your waist, then over your ass, cupping and squeezing as your tongues dance together.

The intensity of the kiss makes the rest of the world fade away, and you don’t even realize the others have left, giving you two a moment of privacy.

Austin breaks the kiss, the sudden quiet catching his attention. He grins, his eyes filled with desire as he whispers, “Come to my room,” his voice low and seductive, his gaze locking with yours.

“Okay,” you whisper back, completely captivated, unable to resist the pull between you.

Once you step into Austin’s room, the first thing you notice is the soft glow of moonlight streaming through the large windows. The light spills across the room, highlighting a four poster bed draped with sheer, flowing curtains.

The furniture is all natural wood, and soft linen fabrics in muted beige tones. The only other light comes from a small lamp in the corner, casting a warm, soft glow. The atmosphere is calm, intimate, and the moonlight makes everything feel almost dreamlike.

Austin takes your hand, his touch warm and gentle as he leads you toward the curtained bed. The moonlight casts soft shadows across his face, highlighting the intensity in his eyes as he looks at you. The room feels quiet, intimate, the world outside fading away as he pulls you closer, his fingers intertwining with yours.

Austin sits on the edge of the bed, still holding your hand, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. He looks up at you, the moonlight catching the soft smile on his lips.

“Tonight was perfect,” he says, his voice low and sincere. “I loved every second of it… the laughter, the dancing… just being with you. It was the kind of night you don’t want to end.”

You smile softly, stepping closer until you’re standing right between his legs. “Let’s not think about the night ending now,” you whisper, your hand gently brushing through his hair. “We’re here, together. That’s all that matters.”

Austin’s eyes darken with desire as he places his hands on your waist, pulling you even closer. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his voice low and filled with affection. “Just us… right now.”

Your lips capture his in a slow, deep kiss, and you feel his breath hitch as he pulls you even closer. His hands grip your waist, firm but tender, as the kiss deepens, filled with unspoken desire and the lingering thrill of the night.

His fingers trail slowly down your sides, gently pulling at your dress until it slips down, exposing your bare skin to the cool air. His gaze follows the movement, filled with admiration and desire, before he leans in, pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, his touch both tender and electrifying. The connection between you feels undeniable, the night unfolding with a quiet intensity that makes your heart race.

His mouth moves lower, grazing your nipples with soft, deliberate kisses. Each touch of his lips sends a shiver through you, his breath warm against your skin. His hands steady you as his mouth explores, lingering on the curve of your breast, the intimacy between you deepening with every slow, sensual movement.

You sigh heavily, your breath catching as you hold his shoulders, your fingers gripping him tightly. The warmth of his mouth on your breasts sends waves of pleasure through you, and you can feel the tension building between you both, the anticipation heightening with each moment.

His fingers trace slowly down your back, his touch light sending a shiver up your spine. He moves his fingers with purpose, exploring every curve as his mouth continues its tender assault on your nipples.

His fingers slide lower, gripping your hips, pulling you closer as the heat between you intensifies. Every touch, every movement, feels euphoric, drawing you deeper into the moment.

He slips his fingers beneath fabric of your panties, his fingers brushing against your wetness with a teasing softness. The sensation makes your breath hitch, the closeness between you both becoming even more intimate.

His touch is slow and deliberate, as if savoring every second, and the warmth of his hands against your bare skin sends a flood of desire coursing through you.

You step back, your eyes locked on his, and slowly begin to remove your panties, the air between you charged with anticipation. Austin watches you, his gaze filled with desire, before pulling his shirt over his head in one swift motion. The moonlight casts soft shadows over his toned abs and chest, and for a moment, you both just linger there, taking each other in, the silence heavy with unspoken desire.

He stands, his eyes never leaving yours, and slowly unbuttons his jeans, the sound of the zipper breaking the quiet between you. His movements are deliberate, as he lets his jeans fall to the floor.

You glance down, momentarily breathless, your eyes widening with surprise and admiration at the size of his cock. The sight of him standing naked and erect stirs something deep inside, and you feel a flush of heat rise in your cheeks. Your gaze lifts back to his, the desire between you both intensifying as his lips curve into a knowing smile, aware of the effect he has on you.

He steps closer, his hands finding your waist again, pulling you gently against him, his breath warm on your skin as he leans in, whispering, “I’ve wanted this all night.”

He kisses you deeply, his lips firm and full of need as he guides you back toward the bed. With gentle pressure, he lays you down on the soft sheets, his body hovering above yours. His hand roams over your skin as he leans down, capturing your lips again with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter. He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, the connection between you undeniable.

His hand reaches over to the nightstand, retrieving magnum package. He tears it open with a swift, practiced motion, his eyes never leaving yours as he rolls it on his large cock.

“I want to take my time,” he says, his voice low and laced with desire. “I want to savor every moment with you.” He says looking deeply your eyes.

“Of course Austin,” you smile resting your hands gently on his shoulders. He leans in closer pressing his hips down entering you slowly, the sensation of fullness making you gasp softly as your body adjusts to him. The stretch is intense yet incredibly satisfying as he guides his cock deeper inside pressing the weight of his body down on you.

His lips find yours, capturing every breathy sigh with a kiss as he penetrates inch by inch until he settles to the depth that makes you moan in pain. You can feel the deep ache from taking his large size.

“I’m gonna make it feel better” He promises and begins with steady, deliberate thrusts, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, as the pain slowly begins to fade into pleasure.

“Austin..you whimper feeling every deep stroke of his cock.

“I know,” he whispers against your lips, his breath warm and full of affection. He continues his slow, rhythmic thrusts as his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing tenderly along your skin.

His other hand grips your waist, grounding you in the moment as the intensity builds. With each thrust, the connection between you grows deeper, until you feel the tension building to peak, your body responding to his with a growing need.

“Austin …I’m so close” you breath and he responds by increasing his pace making your body arch into his. You can feel your orgasm approaching as your walls begin to flutter around his cock.

His grip tightens, and he moves harder, each thrust more deliberate and powerful than the last. You feel every inch of him, the heat and intensity building between you as the moment reaches its peak, your bodies perfectly in sync as you both near the edge, and then it hits—a wave of pure pleasure crashing over you both.

His body tenses, his grip tightening as he lets out a deep, guttural moan, and you feel the warmth of his release pulse inside you as you moan in pleasure. Your orgasm follows, overwhelming and intense, leaving you breathless as you cling to him, your bodies moving perfectly together at the height of pleasure.

He rests his forehead gently against your shoulder, both of you still catching your breath, wrapped in the warmth of the moment you just shared. Slowly, he pulls back, sliding his cock from your warmth and laying on his side. With a quiet sigh, he slips the condom off, the sound of it snapping softly in the room, and leans over to place it in the bin near the bed.

Once he’s done, he pulls the covers up, wrapping his arms around you, drawing you close so that you’re facing each other. His eyes meet yours with a quiet affection as he brings you both under the blanket.

“I don’t want you to leave me,” he whispers, his voice soft and filled with sincerity. A warm smile spreads across his face as his eyes lock onto yours, tender and full of affection. He holds you tightly, his fingers gently tracing slow, comforting circles on your back.

You smile softly, brushing your fingers through his hair, “I’ll be here until the end of the week.” you reveal and there’s a hint of sadness in your voice, knowing your time together is limited.

Austin shifts slightly, pulling you closer, his gaze steady and filled with determination. “Stay with me,” he says, his voice gentle but insistent. “You don’t have to leave. We can figure it out. I want more time with you… as much as we can get.”

He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. “Please,” he whispers, looking into your eyes. “Stay a little longer. We’ll make it work.” The sincerity in his voice makes your heart swell, and the thought of leaving suddenly seems impossible.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want that,” you admit softly, your fingers tracing gentle patterns on his chest. “But now… I don’t want to leave either.”

You pause, biting your lip before answering, “Okay. I’ll stay. I don’t know what happens after, but right now, I just want to be here—with you.” Your smile grows as you see the relief and happiness in his eyes, knowing you’ve made the right decision.

He kisses your forehead softly, his lips lingering for a moment. “I want to take you to set tomorrow,” he says, his voice filled with excitement.

You’re flattered and a bit surprised by the offer, before you can respond, he adds with a playful grin, “I’ve been having some wild ideas for the scene I’ll be filming”

Your eyes widen with intrigue “like what?”

He grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he says. “Licking a knife to test its sharpness … while wearing a ceremonial loincloth.”

There’s a brief pause, the absurdity of the image hanging in the air, and then both of you burst into laughter, the sound filling the quiet room. He pulls you close, his arm wrapping around you tightly as the laughter fades and his smile remains soft and content.

The warmth between you lingers, and soon you find yourselves drifting off to sleep together, perfectly at ease in each other’s arms.

🧳 End 🧳

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misshoneyimhome · 6 months ago

Text

500 FOLLOWERS FESTIVAL

“So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you?” I Matthew Tkachuk

Summary; Despite your mutual disinterest, as the younger sister of a Florida Panthers player, it was inevitable that you would cross paths with Matthew Tkachuk at the celebration party.

Tropes & warnings; Matthew Tkachuk x reader, enemies to lovers, player's younger sister, Stanley Cup celebration, alcohol consumption, language

Other notes; So, lovely babes, this is my first time writing for Matthew Tkachuk, so I'm beyond excited to hear what you think of it 🙏🏼 Also, this idea has been on my mind for a while, so hopefully it turned out well ✨ I really hope you enjoy it 🌺

Word count; 4.2K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny@justwanderingbutneverlost @cixrosie

➼｡ﾟ

The Florida sun slowly sank behind the streets of Miami, casting a golden light over the lively chaos following the Florida Panthers' Stanley Cup victory. The city was buzzing with joy, fans filling the streets, waving banners, and chanting team chants.

And as a guest at the team's exclusive post-championship party, you navigated through a sea of ecstatic family members and hockey players; the venue was a swanky club, decorated in gold and red, resembling the team’s colours.

Being the younger sister of a Panthers defensemen had its perks, but tonight, it mostly meant being pulled into conversations with unfamiliar faces. You spent the evening listening to hockey tales and politely acknowledging jokes you didn’t quite get. The loud music and constant chatter were starting to give you a headache, and you yearned for some peace.

So, leaning against the bar, you nursed a drink and tried to fade into the background. And sensing your need for a break, the bartender handed you a fresh cocktail with a sympathetic smile. You took a sip, the cool liquid a relief from the heat and noise.

However, just as you began to relax, a familiar voice broke your reverie. "Well, if it isn't y/n y/l/n," Matthew Tkachuk drawled, his smirk as irritatingly charming as ever, leaning beside you at the bar, his gaze meeting yours.

You rolled your eyes. "Tkachuk," you replied, your tone dripping with the disdain that had characterised your interactions from the start. He was a forward for the team, undeniably talented, though you’d never admit it aloud.

And even worse, he looked effortlessly handsome in a well-tailored suit that managed to be both relaxed and expensive; his tousled hair and that trademark smirk were frustratingly perfect.

"So, enjoying the party?" he asked casually, mischief glinting in his eyes.

You shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. "It's okay. More my brother’s thing than mine."

Matthew chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "Yeah, I can see that. But you have to admit, it’s a pretty epic celebration."

You glanced around at the crowd, the dazzling lights, and the palpable excitement. "I suppose," you conceded. "But I’d prefer somewhere quieter."

But his smirk just simply widened. "Really? I would’ve thought you were someone who enjoys being right in the middle of everything."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what makes you think that?"

Unexpectedly, Matthew leaned in closer, his voice lowering to a confidential tone. "Because no matter where I go, you always seem to be there."

Your eyes narrowed. "Maybe that’s because you always manage to show up where you’re not wanted."

Matthew laughed, a genuine sound that briefly eased your annoyance. "Fair point. But you know, sometimes the best things happen in unexpected places."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes once more. "Yeah, well, I’m not holding my breath for that."

Matthew had always managed to get under your skin. Whether it was his smug grin on that annoyingly handsome face or his undeniable skills on the ice, he exuded confidence without apology. He was the type of guy who knew his worth and flaunted it freely.

To put it bluntly, you had never particularly liked Matthew Tkachuk - well, at least, that’s what you thought. While he hadn’t directly wronged you, he was simply too much—too loud, too cocky, too... everything. His presence could dominate a room, sucking out all the air and attention effortlessly.

If you were to compare him to a fictional character, Matthew could easily pass for Prince Charming from the Shrek movies: overly self-assured, possessing a strong ego, and strikingly handsome in every way. His eyes were magnetic, his smile infectious, and his physique impeccable. He walked with a swagger that bordered on

arrogance, and it drove you mad.

Oh, that body...

There was this one time you inadvertently caught sight of it after a training session while meeting your brother, and the image had unfortunately burned itself into your memory. He had emerged from the locker room, shirtless and still gleaming with sweat, his muscles flexing with every move.

It even intruded into your private moments, alone in your bed, right when you were on the brink of climax. The memory of his sculpted abs and the way his shorts hung low on his hips invaded your thoughts at the most inconvenient times.

You were of course incredibly embarrassed about it, not wanting to admit to anyone that you had briefly fantasised about Matthew Tkachuk. And even worse, you had to acknowledge to yourself that you had enjoyed it. The fantasy of him, his strong hands on your body, his lips against your skin, had led you to that intense pleasure that left you breathless and somewhat ashamed.

Him. Of all people.

Naturally, you tried to convince yourself it was solely the work of your vibrator. Yet, you couldn’t shake the fact that he had crossed your mind. Every time you saw him, that memory lingered in the depths of your thoughts, causing you to blush and feel a mixture of irritation and something else you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

As you stood there, amidst the lively atmosphere of the Stanley Cup celebration, you had to clench your thighs together and banish all lingering thoughts of him. The vibrant energy of the party coursed through your veins, yet the memory of Matthew's teasing smirk and his lingering touch persisted.

But it seemed as though he could sense your unspoken resistance. And Matthew was the type who thrived on challenges; and you were a challenge he wasn't about to shy away from. So suddenly, he was closely beside you, his breath warm against your ear, cutting through the room's clamour. "Well, I must say I didn't expect to find you here, princess. I thought you didn’t like partying with your brother's teammates?"

Your eyes narrowed. "I don’t. I'm only here for the free drinks." You tried to sound nonchalant, but deep down, you couldn’t deny the thrill his proximity brought.

Matthew chuckled, and despite your efforts, a small smile tugged at your lips. There was an undeniable magnetism in his confidence, his playful demeanour contrasting sharply with the intensity he showed on the ice. But shaking your head, you reminded yourself of all the reasons why you shouldn’t like him. He was arrogant, overly self-assured, and absolutely the last person you should find intriguing.

Yet, his husky voice once again brushed against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Or maybe you’re just here to have a good time?”

Raising an eyebrow, you met his gaze with a defiant stare. “So you think my legs are going to magically spread for you just because we're at the same party?" you retorted, trying to regain your composure and create some distance between you.

You felt assured by your words. Maybe it was the outfit you'd chosen that gave you that extra boost of confidence — something you'd been very mindful of when putting it together; the sleek black dress you'd opted for hugged your curves perfectly. Its smooth silhouette highlighted your figure with undeniable allure, while the low neckline offered a subtle hint of cleavage, adding a touch of charm suitable for the occasion. Under the soft lights, the dress shimmered elegantly, catching the eye as you moved and subtly drawing attention.

Despite its form-fitting design, the dress fell just above the knee, striking a balance between sophistication and allure. It was a choice that exuded confidence, commanding attention without overshadowing the celebratory atmosphere of the evening. Plus, the drinks you'd been sipping for the past few hours had added to your courage.

Matthew simply raised an eyebrow, his blue-grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "Who said anything about magic?" he teased, his voice low. "But I wouldn't mind if it happened."

Your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. "You're unbelievable." The heat of the moment and his proximity made it difficult to think clearly, but you were determined not to let him get to you.

Matthew then leaned back, his expression turning more serious. "Look, y/n, I know we've had our differences—"

"You mean you've been a prick," you interjected, unable to hold back. It was instinctive, a defence mechanism kicking in to shield yourself from the unexpected vulnerability his seriousness revealed.

But Matthew just sighed, running a hand through his curly hair, styled into a soft, modern mullet. His eyes softened momentarily, revealing a glimpse of the person beyond the bravado. Yet, before he could say anything more, you were both pulled away to rejoin some of the others, their laughter and high spirits drawing you back into the celebration.

As the night wore on, both you and Matthew kept your distance, focusing on simply enjoying the party. You laughed, danced, and chatted with others, trying to push the encounter from your mind. Yet, every so often, you caught him glancing your way, his gaze thoughtful and intense, making your heart race all over again.

Despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but be aware of him, his presence a constant hum at the back of your mind. Though the celebration continued around you, a whirlwind of joy and excitement, there was an undercurrent of something else, something that left you wondering just what Matthew Tkachuk's intentions were, and whether you were ready to find out.

It was a huge win for the Panthers. The air crackled with excitement, a chorus of cheers and celebratory shouts echoing through the room. Drinks flowed freely, and the players, including Matthew, were eager to shed the weight of the season's training rules and simply revel in their victory.

Despite their attempts to keep the celebration controlled, the intensity of the moment quickly swept everyone up. Laughter filled the air as families began to depart, leaving behind only the players and their younger siblings at the lively gathering. And in the midst of it all, Matthew felt a surge of confidence building within him.

And that’s when his eyes landed on you once again.

From across the room, he observed you with a mix of curiosity and admiration. Your laughter resonated, adding to the jubilant atmosphere as you engaged in conversation with some of the other players' siblings. Matthew couldn’t deny that there was something distinctly captivating about you tonight, a subtle allure that drew his attention and held it.

“You should hit that,” Brady, Matthew's younger brother, interjected abruptly, breaking through his thoughts.

“What?” Matthew replied, caught off guard by Brady's blunt statement.

“Go for it,” the Ottawa player teased, a mischievous glint in his eye and a slight slur to his words. “You’ve been staring at her all night. Just go for it! You know you want to.”

Matthew chuckled dismissively, shaking his head. “I haven’t been staring at her all night. I’ve barely spoken to her.”

But Brady's lips just curled into a smirk, his confidence buoyed by the alcohol swirling through his veins, amplifying his bravado as he leaned in towards Matthew. His words dripped with sarcasm, each syllable a challenge meant to goad his older brother into action.

"Sure," he scoffed, the hint of a dare in his voice. "Come on, I dare you to go ask her for a dance."

Matthew's brows furrowed slightly, his eyes narrowing in playful disbelief at Brady's persistence. A chuckle escaped his lips, a mix of amusement and mild protest.

"No way, man," Matthew replied, shaking his head with a wry grin. His brother's teasing was nothing new, but tonight, under the influence of celebration and camaraderie, it almost struck a chord.

Brady, undeterred by Matthew's initial refusal, pressed on with the banter, his voice carrying a playful challenge underscored by the sibling rivalry that defined their relationship.

"Alright, I guess if you don't want to, it’s cool," he taunted, his words tinged with mock disappointment. “I mean bro, you can be a chicken if you want to, but don't tell me you're afraid. After winning the Cup, this should be a piece of cake. Unless you're scared she'll turn you down?”

And the barb hit its mark, stirring something within Matthew's competitive spirit. His jaw set with determination; he couldn't let Brady's jibes go unanswered. As athletes, the Tkachuk brothers were no strangers to challenges and dares—each one a gauntlet thrown down, impossible to ignore.

In that moment, Matthew's resolve solidified. He couldn't allow his younger brother to mock him for shying away from a simple act like asking someone to dance. After all, he was Matthew Tkachuk, a Stanley Cup champion—this should be effortless.

So, as mature as ever, Matthew raised an eyebrow. “Fine, you want a show? Watch this.”

Brady's eyes tracked his movements with a mixture of amusement and curiosity as his older brother weaved through the jubilant crowd. The room buzzed with excitement, cheers reverberating off the walls, and the beat of celebratory music filled the air. Despite the festive atmosphere, Matthew's attention honed in on your distinct presence across the room, a singular figure amidst the sea of revelry.

However, with each deliberate step toward you, Matthew felt a peculiar weight settle on his shoulders. His heart suddenly thudded loudly in his chest, a blend of nerves and adrenaline pulsing through his veins like a current.

Wait, what? Why? he silently questioned himself, puzzled by the sudden intensity of his emotions. It was just you, after all—a person he didn't need to impress or prove himself to.

Yet, there was an undeniable pull, an intrigue that had always lurked beneath the surface, even if Matthew had never outwardly acknowledged it. Unlike other women in his life, you exuded a unique aura that captivated him. Whether at the rink before or after training sessions, patiently waiting for your brother, you seemed to radiate an effortless calm and genuine happiness. Your vibrant smile lit up the room, your spirit almost ethereal in its positivity. But it was your sharp wit, akin to a sailor's banter, and your quick-fire comebacks that left an indelible impression on Matthew.

And perhaps it was precisely this multifaceted charm that intrigued the Arizona forward more than he cared to admit.

So, as Matthew closed the gap, he mentally bolstered his confidence, preparing to gently interrupt the small talk surrounding you.

"Hey," he said, tapping you lightly on the shoulder.

You turned, surprise flickering in your eyes before masking it with a smirk. "Back for more, Tkachuk?"

But he just grinned, leaning casually against the wall beside you. "Couldn't stay away."

"Of course not," you replied simply, rolling your eyes playfully as you tried to hide the slight flutter in your stomach that his presence stirred.

There was a brief moment of silence, a hint of awkwardness settling between you, as you both seemed unsure why Matthew had suddenly returned to talk to you. But then he broke the silence with a proposition that caught you off guard.

“How about a dance?”

“What?” you replied, genuinely baffled by his unexpected request.

“How about a dance?” Matthew repeated, his voice more confident this time, his gaze steady on yours.

You blinked in surprise, momentarily at a loss for words. This was not the Matthew Tkachuk you were used to—the cocky, overconfident player who always seemed to know how to push your buttons. This Matthew seemed... different.

Still, you weren’t about to let him off that easily. "You’re joking, right?" you replied, your tone laced with a mix of incredulity and sarcasm.

His smirk widened slightly, yet there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—determination, perhaps a hint of vulnerability. "No, I'm serious. One dance. Unless you're too scared to be seen with me."

And that did it. You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Matthew Tkachuk. "Scared? Of you? Please."

"So, prove it," he challenged, extending his hand towards you.

With a light huff, you placed your hand in his, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he led you confidently to the centre of the makeshift dance floor. The crowd around you seemed to part, creating a space where only the pulsing beat of the music and the heat between you two existed. The deep bass reverberated through your chest, setting a rhythm that seemed to sync effortlessly with your movements alongside Matthew.

As you danced, the initial tension between you began to melt away. There was an undeniable chemistry, an unspoken understanding that drew you closer despite your history of mutual animosity. Matthew's hand on your waist guided you with a firm yet gentle touch, each step bringing you closer together physically and emotionally. The energy between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

Despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of indifference, you suddenly found yourself swept up in the moment. The barriers you had carefully erected seemed to crumble in the face of this unexpected connection, leaving you both vulnerable yet exhilarated.

Then, as the song drew to an end, Matthew's breath warmed your ear again as he leaned in closer, his voice tinged with a hint of mischief and genuine warmth. "See? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking onto his with a mixture of defiance and something deeper—a flicker of unspoken emotions stirring within you. "I suppose not," you admitted begrudgingly, unable to ignore the rush of exhilaration that his proximity brought.

"Maybe we should do this more often," Matthew suggested, his tone playful yet his eyes revealing a sincerity that surprised you.

But you just raised an eyebrow, your guard instinctively rising. "Don't push your luck, Tkachuk."

He chuckled softly, "fair enough, y/n. Fair enough."

As you then turned to leave the dance floor, determined to regain your composure amidst the fluttering in your stomach—just like when you felt your very first crush—fate decided to intervene in the form of a clumsy collision. Another large body bumped into you, causing their drink to spill onto your dress, and you stumbled backwards, only to find yourself caught by Matthew's quick reflexes.

"Whoa there," Matthew's voice was calm, his arms wrapped securely around you. "Are you alright?"

Once again you met his blue-grey eyes, and you felt your heart racing as you momentarily lost yourself in their depths. "Yeah, I'm fine," you managed to say, your voice revealing a breathlessness you couldn't conceal. "Thanks."

Matthew steadied you, his hands lingering on your waist a fraction longer than necessary, stirring a warmth that spread through you. "No worries," he replied softly, his gaze holding yours with a gentle intensity. "But you can always just say it if you can't resist me."

Rolling your eyes in mock exasperation to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks, you teased back, "Don't flatter yourself, Tkachuk. It was just an accident."

His grin widened, mischief glinting in his eyes. "Sure, sure," he responded, his playful manner unwavering. "But accidents can lead to interesting places."

Unable to stifle a laugh at his persistence, you shook your head with amusement. "You're impossible."

"And yet, here we are," Matthew countered, his tone light but his eyes holding a sincerity that made your heart skip a beat.

But before you could reply, your brother appeared, slightly tipsy and curious. "Hey y/n, everything alright here?" he asked, eyeing you and Matthew with interest.

"Yeah, all good," you replied quickly, stepping back from Matthew's embrace. "Just a minor collision."

Your brother raised an eyebrow but chose not to press further. "Alright, just checking. You know how wild these parties can get."

"Yeah, I know," you agreed, grateful for the interruption. "Thanks."

As your brother then wandered off, Matthew turned to you with a more serious expression. "How about we leave?"

"What?" you asked, surprised by his sudden suggestion.

"Let's get out of here," he repeated, his voice soft but resolute.

Confusion mixed with a touch of curiosity as Matthew took your hand, leading you away from the bustling crowd. Despite your uncertainty, you were drawn to his calm assurance, ready to follow wherever this unexpected night might lead.

Matthew guided you out of the noisy room, his hand warm and firm in yours, fingers intertwined as if they naturally belonged that way. The sounds of the party gradually faded as you stepped into the cool night air, a refreshing change from the warmth and noise inside. You followed him down a path that veered away from the venue, guided by the gentle moonlight casting soft shadows around you.

"Where are we heading?"

He glanced back at you, a mischievous yet reassuring smile playing on his lips. "Just trust me. It’s… quieter."

You walked together in comfortable silence, the lively sounds of the city night slowly giving way to the distant crash of waves. After a few minutes, you arrived at a secluded spot overlooking the beach, the peaceful scene illuminated by the moon's soft glow. The rhythmic sound of waves brushing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop, while stars sparkled brightly above, mirroring the newfound excitement in your heart.

"This is... nice," you confessed softly, taking in the tranquil beauty surrounding you.

Matthew shrugged casually, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. "Sometimes it's good to escape all the noise. Clears the mind."

You nodded in agreement, savouring the calmness that enveloped both of you. "Yeah, it does."

Standing side by side, immersed in the serene atmosphere, you sensed a shift in the air. It was a moment suspended in time, where words felt unnecessary yet emotions spoke volumes. Despite the unexpectedness of being alone with Matthew Tkachuk, someone you often clashed with, there was an unspoken understanding between you now.

Then, almost as if to break the tension or perhaps to fully embrace it, you spoke up, your voice teasing yet tinged with uncertainty. "Listen, Tkachuk, if you're planning to kidnap me —"

"Then what?" Matthew interrupted, a playful smirk dancing on his lips as he turned and closed the distance between you, his tall figure towering over you. "What would you do if I did kidnap you, huh?" he challenged, his tone teasing yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You were momentarily stunned into silence, caught off guard by his unexpected boldness.

"Lost for words?" Matthew teased further, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he observed your reaction, his presence exerting a magnetic pull that left you slightly breathless.

"N-no," you managed to stammer out, your mind racing to process the whirlwind of emotions. "I'm just... not sure why you suddenly wanted to be alone with me like this."

Matthew paused, pressing his lips together and his expression softening as he considered his response, his gaze unwaveringly locked with yours.

"Lost for words?" you teased back gently. "I mean, you could have just—"

Before you could finish your sentence, Matthew leaned in and kissed you, a sudden gesture that completely took you by surprise yet somehow felt inevitable. The abruptness made your knees weaken momentarily, leaving you stunned. But then, driven by a newfound desire, you found yourself responding to the kiss, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt.

Matthew cupped your face tenderly with his hands, sending a rush of warmth through you. The kiss was filled with urgency, conveying emotions that words had failed to capture. It was everything unexpected yet strangely fitting.

And when he then pulled back, both of you were breathless, chests rising and falling together. His forehead rested gently against yours, and as you looked into his eyes, you saw a mix of vulnerability and determination that mirrored your own inner turmoil.

"I wanted to be alone with you because... I can't get you out of my head," Matthew confessed softly, his voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment between you. "You drive me crazy in ways I can't explain. I just... needed you to know that."

Your heart raced at his honesty, a swirl of emotions overwhelming you. This was Matthew Tkachuk—the guy who always managed to push your buttons—now standing before you with a vulnerability that felt disarmingly real.

"I..." you began, struggling to find words that matched the intensity of the moment. "I've been thinking about you too. More than I'd like to admit."

His eyes brightened with hope and relief upon hearing your confession, a gentle smile forming at the corners of his lips. "So, what do we do now?" he asked softly, his thumb delicately caressing your cheek, anchoring you in the present moment.

You returned his smile, genuine joy spreading across your face. "I suppose we see where this takes us. No more arguing, no more games. Just... us."

Matthew's grin widened, his eyes sparkling with happiness and anticipation. "I like the sound of that."

He then kissed you again, slower this time, his lips conveying a promise of newfound connection and unspoken possibilities. When you finally pulled away, the world around you felt different—brighter, filled with potential.

And as you walked hand in hand back towards the distant sounds of music and laughter, there was a renewed energy crackling between you. You knew your brother would notice the change immediately. Always protective, he might initially confront Matthew, but you trusted him to ultimately understand.

#500 followers festival #mt19 #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk imagine #florida panthers imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey imagine

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ohbabydollie · 9 months ago

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omg so i’m new here but i currently have brainrot for 2 things

1) being a famous celebrity (sortaaaa like the famous streamer one but more famous) where ur like, an actress or model, things like that. and having a semi-public relationship with schlatt where you’ll be spotted holding hands on occasion, or on a red carpet but not really publicly discussing your relationship (even though everyone knows you’re together), and everyone is either super happy and ships the ever loving shit out of you, or they clown on you a bit and make “who’s punching up” videos and odd comments, and just not giving a fuck and being happy together but kinda wanting to be viewed like any other couple and not just another famous couple to be analyzed. (also similar to mutual break up but you don’t care about hate and stay together)

AND

2) schlatt made a joke about having his cock out in the latest chuckle sandwich episode and….. giving him head under his desk when he films….. for some things, like recordings where he’s not showing his face, it’s easy, but when he has his face out, it’s a bit more challenging. he has to restrain the urge to watch you and moan SOOO bad…. that’s all.

LMAO NONNIE THE FIRST ONE, I HAD TOO

okay, let’s say you’re a celebrity that is agreed by men, women, etc. to be absolutely stunning

so many people that love you, call you their wife, etc.

you are an absolute style icon, wearing pieces made for you to exclusive red carpet events

even people who hate you have to agree you’ve got a great style in clothes and makeup and yes, you’re iconic, at least a little

then somehow you make your way to the youtube community

people assume from you being so open and sweet and social is how you find yourself starring in a project directed by Ted Nivison

you’re so excited for it, interacting with other creators, etc.

Jschlatt knows of you, but thinks you’re probably like all those LA stuck up influencers that managed to make enough connections to get what you wanted

but when he has his first interaction with you on twitter??

he’s taking the chance to flirt with you publicly

in any way shape or form

and is so public about his crush on you to the point everyone is convinced he runs a stan account for you

you both do get closer behind the scenes but don’t tell much people about it

especially considering his jokes that people love taking seriously and out of context

you both are pretty secretive about it, super down low about it until the day he decides to pay for your nails

a small j is on the underside of your ring finger as to not show it off too much

it can’t even be seen unless it’s up close

then someone points it out on twitter in a selfie

you say it was dirt, but they know what they saw

then the paparazzi comes in and takes a photo that goes viral of you in sweats and a suspiciously familiar wilson hoodie

you say it a coincidence over and over again but the evidence is undeniable when you post multiple selfies in familiar hoodies that look just a little too large for you

small scratches and bite marks on your arms but you never mentioned getting a cat

then you appear in a chuckle sandwich interview

but the vibe is different in that video compared to the rest with guests

schlatt is polite??? and listening to you??

he looks at you with so much affection

yeah, your team does damage control and quickly

claiming that you’re currently single and focused on your career

then you fuck up on your own

a misclick on a story made for your close friends of you kissing your boyfriend’s cheek as he has the biggest smile ever plastered on his face

oh well, too late to deny anymore

so you don’t say anything until your next red carpet event where he’s essentially your accessory

like arm candy and dressed to match you

then everyone definitely knows

and let me tell you, some stans are sobbing

lots of “i waited 3 1/2 years, white man did it in one week” from fans and other celebrities

punching the air too

lots of crying and audios after they realize you’re dating him fr fr and not them

people definitely make memes out of it

goddess s/o and bf they probably found digging around in the trash and probably has rabies

yk that one meme of shining armor and princess cadence?

yeah, that + other attractive partner and their silly bf

so so so many of those “do you think we’re…in another universe?” slides

they clip any time he talks about you and use it for edits

editing characters you play with c! schlatt (it’s giving jack frost x elsa)

they love the two of you and seriously cannot get enough

but they really are punching the air when he marries you and when he gets you pregnant (if applicable)

#schlatt x reader #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt x you #jschlatt x y/n #schlatt x y/n #schlatt x you #dollie yaps 🗣️#jschlatt hcs #jschlatt headcanons #jschlatt fluff #schlatt fluff

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ay0nha · 1 year ago

Text

An Ode to Ruination | T.S.

SUMMARY: Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callus to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.

PAIRING: Tommy Shelby x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.5K

WARNINGS: ANGST, swearing, smoking, drinking, semi-preoccupations with thoughts of death/suicide, mutual pining, meanish tommy because his feelings are hurt, canon-typical things, protective!tommy, rushed ending, etc.

A/N: Yeah, yeah, I’m back on my bullshit. This is inspired by @zodiyack‘s request/post (here). HAD to get it out of my system, I mean look how pretty he is. This is a mix of Old writing I had to dust off the cob webs for mixed with new stuff, so be kind. Enjoy.

“You’re leaving.”

Tommy’s tone was sterile. It left little room for interpretation or defiance. The statement came without hesitation but held pent-up sentiment veiled by familiar poise. You vetted his blank gaze for proper determination of his upset.

The cracks behind his exterior were so deeply concealed you hadn’t thought anything could slip between. Yet, standing before him, your decision was the ice-pick that’s pressure had shattered him.

“Ada told you?” You hummed with formality; his presence clearly a response to the question. “London will treat me well.”

Tommy tracked your movements. You envied how he filled the space better than you. Perhaps it was the vulnerability in his presence. Regardless, you felt like a guest in your own home. You felt caught, exposed.

The air was thick, causing Tommy’s deep breaths hard to hide behind a crackling record that you had on a continual loop, never able to stand too much silence. Your bags were organized beside the door for the morning, causing your heart to echo against the empty walls.

There was an odd sense of pride you felt with his presence. It confirmed the distant admiration that Tommy held for years. That the shared affection wasn’t something fabricated but complex. You respected his drive, but your desires fell elsewhere. He carved space for you despite your protests, but you could never be the one to fill it—you could never be his.

“A better life, eh?” Tommy mocked you, cigarette rolling over his lips with habit. “Fucks sake.” The confidence in his demeanor faltered. But he regained it quickly with a bitter laugh, “...I’ve given you everything, and here you are asking for more.”

With an instinct to comfort him, you wanted to reach for him. It spoke of your ability to read him and how exhausting it had become to interpret. He would miss you.

“Tommy—” You began. The calmness in your voice was deceiving. You could see it in his face, how expectant he was for you to tell him you’d stay. “—I’m not safe with you.” You paused, letting your admission sink in just as harshly as his words had, “I’m going to London.”

—

The bliss was idyllic.

Your wrist balanced on the windowsill as you lazily tapped the ash of your cigarette. The cool air caressed your arm and gave you goosebumps that reminded you that you were still alive. Human. Your senses were perked. The city outside kept you attentive as your head rested back. The day was long, but hearing the taxis carrying bubbling people made it worth it. You imagined how some were on their way to find warmth in their home while others were dressed for an endless night of laughter.

The living room was empty and quiet. You could no longer hear Ada’s shuffling feet above you, ushering both her and Karl to sleep. It was odd that you found such freedom with them. Protection of sorts that you could rely on as a necessary stepping stone. It caused a headache to form at the back of your head, reminding you of your lack of sleep.

Privilege came with the name associated that made your stomach churn. It was simple to push Tommy into a subconscious level. The task became daunting; an ache emerged from so deep within that it took months to realize from the start he was responsible. It was as though you could feel how his eyes were still on you.

It became a habit to remind yourself of your newfound safety. The distance created life: happiness and tranquility. You traded bloody nights for bedtime stories, sewing razor-filled caps for gin-filled gatherings, and Tommy’s scarcity of communication for peaceful nights like tonight.

A disruption was overdue. You answered the phone after the third ring.

“Ada?” The voice was unmistakable, even if it was whiskey drenched. It took him a beat to realize you were on the other end. “... ’m callin’ for Ada.”

Chewing on your lip, you debated silence and pretended like the call had never begun. But that incessant ache begged to be relieved.

“I can wake her.” Your voice was soft, promising something you were unwilling to do. It was nicety that filled the quietness you were met with.

“I—uh—” Tommy sighed deeply. The words were lost, jumbled behind an always racing mind. You could picture him well; his crisp shirt no longer having life as it was rolled up by anxiety, his tie no longer present, but still suffocating him, and everything around him reflecting how he moved with an intemperate haze. “—I’m drowning—”

“Tommy…” You refused to burst, but his name on your tongue tattered between warning and heartbreak. When he drank, he opened up to you, a foolish cycle. “Let me get Ada…”

The dark chuckle on the other end forced you to press yourself closer to the phone. “Sometimes, I wish I were dead so you'd think of me.”

A frown perked your lips. You were made out to be more heartless than the most heartless man you knew. It was a naive guilt trip that you almost slipped on. “Be fair to me, Tommy.”

There was a crackle on the other end, a cigarette lit purely by regret. The drag was long, trying to pull something thoughtful from a blurred mind. The reports he received from those he paid off weren’t enough. You were thriving with his absence, seen with a mix of people who, even acquaintances, valued you better. It elicited resentful envy. However, out of arms reach, you worried Tommy endlessly. The London associates sought blood, no matter who provided it. The paranoia was ruining him, and no answer could reassure him.

“You a communist yet?” Tommy cleared his throat with a vulnerability that was only reserved for this night. Maybe, you thought, it was an effort on his part.

“Almost…” The teasing comforted a dodged homesickness. “Think my card got lost in the post.”

“Shame.” He tutted with a gentle wit. There was a tender sadness he carried with him. It was almost as volatile as his anger. It was easy to blame it on the war, but it had latched onto him long before, never planning to let go.

You imagined how his exhaustion mapped along his body. His body probably mirrored your own; head back, limbs weakly sprawled, heavy-lidded eyes imagining the other beside each other, and a mutual worry that bounced between you.

“I am happy, Tommy…” Your promise was delayed, hardly believable. “Ada and I do miss everyone.”

I miss you.

Tommy hummed, “...have a funny way of showin’ that.”

“You haven’t seen our smoke signals?”

The laugh you were met with was small, light, and barely there, but it rushed through your limbs and heated your chest. You had a moment to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. Tommy was addicting. Chronic. His aura was intimidating. He was callous to those close to him. And yet, there was that desire to sink below that murky water—drown in him entirely when his want was so clear in his breath.

—

You knew Tommy would be there. For Ada—you reminded yourself. Yet, seeing him so closely caused your heart to lurch, your blood leaving your extremities with such fascination that you became light-headed.

“Drink.” Ada all but scolded you, crystal pushed into your hand. The instruction was welcomed, but it wasn’t enough to settle you. “Otherwise, you’ll clam up if Tommy bothers to find us.”

Tommy worked the crowd well. It was a feigned charm that he played into only for advantage. Although he claimed to be here for family, business always loomed. Ada hadn’t cared either way, the glitz far too intriguing to question his sudden presence in the city.

“Give him time…” Ada spoke openly to the air, her night’s indulgence tracing her words. “...always time with that one—wastes it, and yet, expects you to be there when he hollers. Does your head in, it does…”

The champagne bubbled down your throat. The night was meant to be celebratory, but you’d be lying if you said you knew why. It was a part of your distinction from the Shelby family that you questioned if ignorance truly brought you bliss.

“Surprised he came himself. Thomas Shelby in the flesh,” Ada continued with ease, mocking her brother. “Surprised he even lifted a pinky. Typically one of his goons—” She looked to you, her revelation cutting her off. “You do understand what you do to him, don’t you?”

“I don’t want to.” Your words were sharp. Your eyes filtered the crowd for the gloved waiter to replace your glass. “There’s nothing that I—I’ve put all that behind me.”

“That?” She pressed with practiced bits of patience. Ada’s smile grew comically. The shy glancing took years to turn into full sentences and Ada knew firsthand how to read her brother, and the way he lingered spoke volumes. He was past smitten.

It was all or nothing; you were it.

You were grateful how her attention shifted to her own relationship. You never tired of hearing how Freddie treated her and loved her since they were children. There was somberness in her eyes, but devotion carried in her words. You saw how she carried him with her; certain mannerisms mirrored not only in her but Karl. Love withstood.

There was a point in your life you believed you’d find something similar. You hadn’t faulted your growing mind; it was natural to romanticism your future at such a young age. Those around you promised there was something fruitful to look forward to. However, life proved difficult; men remained boys, and the only person that you regarded stalked toward you as if you were nothing more than a stranger.

“Ada.” Tommy approached his sister as if she were alone. He’d visited her in the city multiple times but never once shared the air with you. “Enjoying yourself tonight, eh?”

“Mothers can still have fun.” She teased him with a peck on the cheek. Even in her state, she ridiculed her brother’s behavior. With a shoulder pushed against his, Ada encouraged Tommy to acknowledge you. “Have you no manners?”

To others, his expression may have appeared vacant. However, Tommy wrestled with himself, unsure how to maneuver in uncharted territory. Stalling, his eyes danced the crowd as he languidly out his matches and carton. It denoted how natural his icy illusion became, and now he seemed able to practice it on you. Once he landed on you, you realized why he struggled to meet your eyes. It was his only form of self-defense.

“London suits you.” Tommy nodded, his greeting muffled through the newly lit cigarette. The small rush it gave him was enough to stay vigilant.

“It has its moments.” Your chest perked from the attention and chill, but Tommy’s eyes never faltered from your own. You were daring him to take your body in. It was the sole reason you chose a dress that cut low both front and back.

Tommy was never a blind man.

Nor was his sister. Ada excused herself, claiming whatever ‘this’ was, she wanted no part. You are no fun, she said. However, you weren’t sure who it was directed to. You held back from following her, but your shoulders remained open; you wouldn’t fold into yourself.

“I didn’t know communists could have fun…” Tommy mumbled to himself, eyes going to the crowd once more. Ada’s self-imposed isolation rippled through the family, only fracturing the stress of everyone’s well-being.

A scoff bubbled in your throat, “And what do you know about pleasure?”

“Pleasure?” Tommy became focused and pointed with his words. “Pleasure doesn’t exist.”

Eyebrows cinching with frustration, you stepped closer to be heard, “Don’t pretend like your pleasures don’t have names.”

That drunken call all those nights ago was a mistake. It showed you insight into a dream. In that dream, Tommy was free of what haunted him, light and present. Faithful. There his voice wrapped you in warmth with fulfilled promises. You never were as skilled at hiding your emotions. Your heart was broken on your sleeve.

“I’m going to—

There wasn’t a need for a protective air as those around Tommy knew never to challenge him. However, far and few between, there were those men self-entitled with such idiocy; they couldn’t recognize they were prey.

“Thomas Shelby. Birmingham man in London.” A hand clapped down on his shoulder, breaking the forming bubble around you. “Thought that was you! This must be the missus…”

“Not quite.” Your tone was bare, your hand extending with trained expertise. You could handle pleasantries. But the man was bold, leaving a damp kiss on your knuckles as if marking you.

Tommy was subtle, moving his body to act as a buffer. Fingertips brushy feather-bare against your lower back. You thought it would end there but held back a flinch when Tommy’s warm palm flattened where your back curved.

“Ah, understood!” The man replied with a boisterous cackle. It reflected years of unfiltered nicotine and a wet and sick penchant for bourbon. “I’ll have one of you warm my bed once all of this shit is over.”

You pinned your breath to the roof of your mouth. Your loss for words wasn’t due to the ill-mannered man. It was from the brush of Tommy’s thumb against your skin. It was a comfort and an apology for how he would have to agree with the man to keep him at bay.

It was all a part of the plan you were slowly catching onto.

“A good lay is a good lay, isn’t it, Mr. Shelby?” The man prompted again, a gauge to know if the future alliance would be worth it.

“Exactly right.”

You could storm off, cause a scene. Your anger steeped deeper than that. It lived in your bones, morphing into something vindictive. You stayed the course and played your part willingly. The morals you lectured Tommy on didn’t matter anymore when all along he had the upper hand.

To the man, you were a plaything, someone who the conversation held no standing. The information would be forgotten, implied confidentiality, as you’d move on to your next client. However, the further you orchestrated the conversation to continue, the more you learned.

The night was a business move, another party dosed in secrets and danger. You took in the man’s features, noting how he was aging, greys just starting to filter through his scalp. Your stomach turned, knowing there would be a bullet between his eyes by the end of the evening. The interaction was a courtesy.

Once alone again, you didn’t hesitate to move from Tommy’s shield. You felt dirtied.

“I can’t believe you.” You spat. “You’re incapable of—

“Enough.” Tommy’s words were low. He pinned you with a look alone, keeping you steady. “You want to run from me, but you can’t.” You battled with him until you lost. His face hardened like you were another associate. “It was him or you.”

#q #tommy shelby #tommy shelby angst #tommy shelby fluff #tommy shelby smut #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x f!reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fluff #thomas shelby angst #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby x f!reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fic #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader

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captn-trex · 1 month ago

Text

angel of small death

Howzer x F!Reader / Twi'lek!Reader

word count: 7.8k / 24k

part one | part two | part three

description: after the rise of the Empire, Howzer finds his position on Ryloth to be precarious at best, but his attention is drawn from his troubles when he finds himself captivated by a new politician’s arrival

warnings/tags: 18+ !!! strangers to lovers, mutual pining, some angst — political thoughts/discussions throughout, specific reference to clone rights/treatment/autonomy in this part, fluff :) smut in part three

a/n: ok I'm actually very proud of this one. lowkey my magnum opus. It took so fucking long to write though omg. if you get the title you get it, re: français risqué. but also howzer is hozier-coded in my mind and I can't tell you what that means. gentlemanly but not immune to hot women? perhaps? part two in a couple days :)

masterlist | join my taglist | read on ao3

Howzer shifted uncomfortably in his spot. He had never been one to play politics, but the conversations that he had been overhearing of late had him worried.

He stood guard at the door while Cham Syndulla spoke with diplomats of various denominations around a large oval table, and all the talk of the newly risen Empire made his insides twist with an unpleasant feeling. There was something truly sinister in play, he just couldn’t place it. That’s what distressed him the most about it.

He had heard of a new refinery that was situated at the edge of the city, he’d heard the rumours that the Empire’s methods were less than humane, that they were using slave labour. He didn’t want to put stake in false claims, but the whispers were getting louder. He wouldn’t dare speak of it to Cham, especially not now, while tensions were already so high.

He could see the focus on his superior’s face, a displeased expression that he knew all too well; a deep frown on his lips that would turn the tide of any conversation to his favour. The senatorial representatives seemed unphased, however. Howzer presumed they were more familiar with the tactics of politicians, of which Cham wasn’t recognised as by the senate, despite how much harder he had fought for Ryloth’s freedom than Orn Free Taa. The Hammer of Ryloth would fall on anyone in his path eventually, no matter how they were resisting his opening gambit, Howzer knew that.

It was what worried him the most.

There was no way Cham would be allowed to continue partaking in senator-level discussions, not when it was well known how the true senator of Ryloth felt threatened by his mere existence. He worried what Cham would do then. He could never be forced into subservience.

“Captain” the voice of his superior called to him, and he straightened, his gaze shifting over to the Twi’lek who approached, “is everything alright?”

“Everything is fine, sir” he replied assuredly, a respectful nod accompanying his words.

The diplomatic guests filed out of the door beside him, and Cham gave him an unsubtle and questioning look.

“Well then” he motioned to the door, “we are now to meet Senator Orn Free Taa in the foyer”

Howzer visibly cringed as he left the room behind Cham. He had never liked the politician. It was clear how little interest he had in his people, and how all of his attention was instead focused on making himself seem more important. Howzer didn’t play politics, but it didn’t take a genius to see that much.

He stalked down the hallway in silence, one step behind Cham, who in turn kept his distance from the senatorial reps.

“What is it Captain?” the Twi’lek asked him in a hushed voice, turning to face him.

Howzer sighed, looking to the floor ahead of him, “nothing sir, it’s just been a long week”

“Hm” Cham seemed unconvinced by his explanation, but he took it anyway, “it has been indeed”

At the start of the week, Howzer was still a soldier of the Republic. He was still a Captain in the Grand Army. Now? He wasn't sure what he was, or what he would become either. His men had been acting exceeding strangely, and he didn't know what to make of it. He figured that if he kept his head down and followed orders, something would come to light eventually.

The elevator ride down to the ground floor was quiet, and Howzer couldn’t have been more uncomfortable. The ping that let them know they had arrived brought a welcome reprieve to the tense atmosphere that surrounded the discontented politicians.

Cham's wife, Eleni, swept down stairs opposite, lifting the hem her gown in one hand. She held herself with the grace of a queen, acting accordingly, and Howzer had the utmost respect for her. He gave her a steady bow of his head, and she smiled warmly at him in return before greeting her husband with a kiss to his cheek.

“Where is our guest, my dear?” Cham spoke, running a hand down her arm.

Eleni chuckled, a pleasant and breathy sound, “Be patient my love”

Howzer kept his distance, hovering at the edge of everything. He preferred not to be involved, it was only his job to stand guard after all, and it was certainly no shame to miss out in conversation with Orn Free Taa.

The grand doors that opened into the square parted, a party of four being ushered in. It was unusual, ordinarily there was only the Senator and two of his aides. Howzer paid it no mind, keeping his gaze on those he was charged with protecting.

That was until his eyes caught the lilac skin of the fourth Twi'lek to enter the room. Her demeanour was a stark contrast to that of her counterparts. She bore a plain expression, and had none of the smug self-importance that the others had so perfected. Her clothes were a little more grandiose than the other aides, robes of rich velvet and silk hanging from her frame, cinched against skin and flowing freely in equal parts. She looked regal, and yet, there was something reserved about her appearance, as if she didn't want to make herself known.

For all that she hadn’t caught the attention of the other people present, Howzer could scarcely take his eyes from her.

“Senator” Cham welcomed him inside, “how wonderful it is to see you”

Howzer could hear how strained his voice was in saying the false words, and in the reply from the Senator even more so. He was not interested in the specifics of the mock flattery between the rival Twi'leks, he instead turned his focus to the woman who insisted on hiding herself behind the Senator.

He trailed his eyes down her lekku, which stretched past her waist and were adorned by pale swirling markings, reaching forwards towards her face and beneath her headdress. Her eyes were darkened by makeup, but when her irises met his, he was struck by the spark of life within them.

Her eyes found his a number of times throughout the exchange, the only two people who were not engaged in conversation. He tried to keep from staring entirely, not wishing to make her uncomfortable or seem improper, but his eyes always found their way back.

Eventually, Eleni addressed her, finally noticing the person who hung back from the Senator.

“What is your name? I don't think we've met before” she asked, taking her hand to shake.

You went to speak, but the Senator beat you to it.

“This is my aide” he explained, giving your name.

You looked at the man with a small amount of contempt before giving a polite nod to Eleni, “it’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am”

The sound was music to Howzer's ears. Your accent was similar to that of the other Twi'leks, though softened slightly, as if you had been off world for a long time.

Eleni smiled graciously, “the pleasure is all mine”

You stepped backwards, your hands folded neatly in front of you, and the conversation shortly dwindled. Cham was finding he had little to say to the pompous Senator, and luckily he was saved by way of his daughter, Hera, invading the room with her droid in toe.

Howzer smiled at the sight, and even more when Orn Free Taa looked visibly uncomfortable at the intrusion. He kept his head down from that point on, for fear of being called out for laughing at the Senator. He instinctively glanced over at you once more, and was pleasantly surprised to see you also having to hide your laughter.

Your lips were twisted in a smirk, your hand coming up to partially cover it, but from the angle, nothing was hidden from the clone. Your eyes met his, and a small moment passed between you, both of you having to try harder to supress your chuckles.

Howzer was convinced by that simple action alone, without having spoken to you himself, that in time he would find you to be the most welcome company.

When Howzer left the barracks the following morning, he was displeased to find that the air outside still felt heavy. It had been this way since the shift in power, an invisible mist that surrounded the people of Ryloth, but specifically his men. He took a deep breath, seeking some of the fresh air that should be present on sunny mornings such as this one, but evidently the powers of the galaxy didn’t see fit to reward him with any relief.

His walk towards the senate bureau was short enough, but Howzer revelled in every moment he could. Before long he’d be holed up inside once more, listening to overzealous politicians discuss the future of the planet, as if they knew the first thing about the inhabitants of it. Howzer couldn't help but feel resentful towards the bureaucrats. They posed as public servants, but being inside their talks, he knew they only cared for themselves. It was the reason that Cham and his freedom fighters had even had to step up during the war.

He tried not to let it weigh on his mind. There was nothing he could do to fix it, after all, and with the Empire on the rise, he wouldn’t presume that anyone else could either. He held back a sigh as he turned the corner into the square that the bureau overlooked, not needing to be questioned on why he looked so utterly defeated. As he strode across the square, his eyes caught on a glimmer of light, shining and dancing in the early morning sun, which he discovered had bounced from your silver headwear.

Howzer didn’t expect to see you again so soon, and he couldn't help but notice how utterly lost and confused you looked, wandering along the edge of the square and glancing all about the place. He smiled softly, adjusting his grip on his helmet, and changed direction to cross in your path.

“Are you alright miss?” he asked softly, not wishing to scare you.

You whirled around nonetheless, evidently a little surprised that someone had approached you. The moment your eyes caught his, he could see the embarrassment flash across them, and you let out a quiet self-deprecating chuckle.

“I appear to be lost” you informed him, though he had already figured that much out.

Instead of telling you that, he asked, “where are you headed?”

“Um… I'm not entirely sure” you admitted, a mauve blush appearing across your cheeks. Howzer gave you a patient smile as you collected yourself, finding it hard not to be instantly enamoured by you. “Might you know where the Senator resides?” you asked him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

He nodded, “I can show you the way if you like”

Your eyes lit up a little at his words, “that would be lovely, though I do hope it's not too far out of your way”

“It's not” Howzer assured with a kind smile, “this way”

You followed the clone trooper silently across the square, and he took stock of you in a flick of his eyes. Your robes were a dark plum colour, a little less formal than the queenly attire you had been wearing the previous day, but exceedingly opulent nonetheless. It was hard not to notice the clothes that you wore, not only because of their sophistication, but also because he himself never changed from the armour that he currently wore on his back.

“How long have you been working for Senator Taa?” he inquired, holding open the door to the building.

He noticed the way you sighed, squaring your jaw before you spoke, “a little over 3 years”

“So… you live on Coruscant?” he prompted, aiming to move the conversation from the imperious senator.

“I did” you looked up at him as you walked in tandem, a sad smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

Howzer instinctively raised his brows a little, “you don't like it here?”

“I do” you confirmed in an assured voice, your hands closing around your robes and lifting them an inch as you began climbing the stairs, “it’s my home planet, it’s just…”

Howzer watched the way your throat tightened as you forced yourself to swallow, burying your words. The action was filled with all the grace and restraint of a politician, though it was obvious that something was bothering you.

You gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes, “I shouldn’t say. It’s not my place”

Howzer nodded with an amiable enough expression, though his eyes observed your movements carefully. Your fingers slotted together as the two of you reached the top of the stairs, hands joined in front of your robes, your gaze ahead of you, fixed and steady, and your mouth a hard line. You were impossible to read, and he found it more than a little unnerving.

“What about you?” you turned your attention to the clone beside you, “do you like it here?”

Howzer was a little startled. Aside from his brothers, no one but Cham or Eleni ever asked him about himself. There was an expectancy in your eyes however, something kind and patient as you waited for him to reply, something that told him you cared to know his answer.

“Oh, well” he began a little inelegantly, “anything is better than Kamino, I suppose”

You chuckled, a charming sound that made Howzer’s heart flutter with pride, “have you always been stationed here?”

“For most of my time in the war, yes” he replied, guiding you through a doorway and towards the office that the two of you had been searching out.

The hall was far more luxurious than those which Howzer usually passed through. There were grand arches and satin curtains which swayed gently in the breeze, the lavish wooden windows thrown open to overlook the city. Your imposing garb didn’t seem so garish here, it just made Howzer feel underdressed.

“Well, this is it” he smiled cordially, gesturing a gloved hand to the door at the end of the hall.

“Thank you” you stopped, squaring your shoulders with his and giving him an apologetic look, “I’m sorry, I didn’t even ask your name”

Howzer couldn’t help but smile at you with more intention. He had never known a politician apologise to him.

“It’s Howzer” he spoke, “and it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ma’am”

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head slightly and a certain twinkle in your eye, “the pleasure is all mine, as long as you don’t call me that again”

Howzer huffed a small laugh, “certainly, my apologies”

“No need for apologies” you waved him off, “but thanks are in order, I would never have found my way here without you”

You held out your hand, and it took a moment for Howzer to register what was going on. He hesitated for a second longer even so, unsure if it was proper conduct to be touching senate officials, but your gracious expression made him give in. He took your hand and shook it firmly, though not gripping too hard for how delicate it looked wrapped by his fingers.

“Anytime” he bowed his head in respect and let his hand fall from yours as he exited the hallway.

Howzer could now admit that he was entirely fascinated by you. To him, you gave the air of such importance, especially as you were only an aide. Aside from that, you were unlike any of the other senate members he had had the misfortune of crossing. The difference being that you actually seemed pleasant to be around.

He took the route towards Cham’s office, and he had to suppress the grin that threatened to take over his face. He didn’t exactly know what he was grinning about, but he felt anything that could draw such a reaction from him in the troubling times he inhabited surely couldn’t be a bad thing.

The next few days passed in a blur of tedious meetings and rising tensions, and Howzer just kept his head down, staying out of everything. It was a welcome respite from the all-out conflict against the separatists, but he still couldn’t help but find it exceptionally dull.

As he had hoped, he had crossed paths with you reasonably often. He came to realise that you didn't speak an awful lot, or that you only spoke when you had something notable to say. You were practically silent in senate discussions, though you had a seat at the table. It only made Howzer more intrigued and confused, since the other aides stood behind the Senator, whereas your place was beside him.

You were always engaged, though it was clear that you aimed to keep to yourself. A number of times he could see you holding back, and he came to recognise the tick in your jaw when someone said something you disapproved of. It was fascinating to watch you work. You were the only one that took notes in meetings, the only one that seemed entirely immersed, and yet, you said so few words.

He couldn't fully understand the way you went on, and it only made him think that there was more to you than met the eye. The way you carried yourself was something curious to him. You were elegance incarnate, unaffected by your heavy robes and gliding around almost as if you were a ghost, hauntingly beautiful.

The most thrilling thing of all was that you made sure to speak with him every time you passed him by. It was always a simple ‘good morning’ or ‘good afternoon’, but he couldn't ignore the way it sent a shiver running down his spine, especially as your words were always accompanied by an affectionate smile, your eyes sparkling.

He found you entirely charming, and even more so when he often saw you sat outside of an evening, under a tree that the barracks overlooked, a flimsibook in hand and stylus working furiously against it. He greatly desired to know what you were writing. The scene was like something from a painting, similar to the ones he'd seen in the more grandiose corners of the senate bureau; your robes fanned out around you at the bottom of a tall whiptree, your expression thoughtful as you scribbled words down onto the pages of the leatherbound book. The dying light hit your skin in a similar fashion as those brush strokes, a warm glow that made you look ethereal, as if you had been someone's muse.

Howzer had even caught himself leaning on the window ledge, watching you write, and then internally scolded himself when he realised what he was doing. It was entirely improper to be fawning over a senate official, he knew that. There was just something about you he couldn't quite figure out, and he was determined to know what it was.

It was around midday when Cham addressed the people of Ryloth, Orn Free Taa at his side, with a speech that he had been preparing for a number of days now. You hung back from him, standing beside Eleni, and Howzer found himself edging forwards so he was in earshot of your conversation. His ears perked up the sound of your laugh. It was something he hadn’t heard since your first encounter.

“I couldn’t say” you replied to whatever Eleni had asked, “ordinarily I don't accompany Senator Taa to meetings”

“Oh? How come”

Howzer watched the way your shoulders sagged as a sigh escaped you, “Truth be told, we don’t usually work so closely. I represent him in the senate when he’s… otherwise engaged”

“You’re a senate representative?” Eleni asked, her tone surprised, “I could have sworn the Senator introduced you as his aide”

“Yes, well…” you jaw ticked with indignance, your voice becoming hushed, “the Senator doesn’t really seem to understand the work I do in his stead”

“I see” Eleni matched your quiet tone, “Though… if you represent him in his absence, why are you here on Ryloth? Shouldn't you have remained on Coruscant”

You didn't answer for a moment, and Howzer tried to gauge your thoughts. You gave nothing away, as always. His eyes followed the movement of your arms as you slotted your hands together behind your back, disappearing beneath your robes. It was clear that whatever you were about to divulge was not for the ears of everyone, so you must have trusted Eleni more than he realised.

“The Emperor saw fit to… relocate me” you admitted.

Howzer's eyebrows raised in surprise.

“The Emperor?” Eleni asked, her tone incredulous, “why does the Emperor want you here?”

You swallowed, glancing behind you, and Howzer averted his eyes as to not get caught listening in.

“I think it was more about me not being on Coruscant” you said lowly, your voice dripping with unease, though carefully measured.

Howzer was alarmed. What did you mean? What possible reason could the Emperor have for getting rid of you?

In any case, Eleni's own questions died on her lips as the Senator and her husband returned from the front of the room. Orn Free Taa addressed you, your name sharp on his tongue as he instructed you to accompany him to his office without so much as looking in your direction. You nodded and said a courteous goodbye to Eleni as you turned to follow him with Cham on your heels.

Your eyes flicked towards Howzer as you passed by him, and you gave a warm smile. There was a certain glint in your eyes, a small flicker of repressed amusement that didn't go unnoticed by him. He gave you a respectful nod, taking his place one step behind Cham as the four of you walked towards the Senator's office.

The session that followed was hard to sit through. It felt like a mutiny against Cham, whilst dancing around the fact that that's what was going on. The bureaucrats that had travelled from Coruscant rallied behind whatever the Senator was saying, and Howzer could feel his own anger and irritation bubbling up on Cham's behalf.

As if that wasn't enough, the session ran late, and the sun began to set as the heated discussion continued. Howzer kept half an eye on you, and though you stayed quiet, he could see the way your jaw was set. He felt that if you tensed it any harder then it would snap. He couldn't help but wonder why you wouldn't speak up if you so clearly didn't agree, and especially now knowing that you had more authority than most of the people in the room.

By the time some form of conclusion had been reached, the sun had fully sunk beneath the horizon. The senate members filed out of the room, but he saw you pull Cham aside. You spoke in a soft voice, and he couldn't hear what was being said, but the deep crease in your brow gave away the seriousness of your words. Cham nodded along, and then sighed, replying with a comforting hand on your shoulder. Howzer stood at attention until it was just you three left, and gripped his helmet a little tighter when your gaze wandered his way. You straightened, stepping back from the other Twi'lek with a gracious smile.

“Well, anyway, I should be getting back to my residence” you said, your voice raised from the hushed tone.

“Of course” Cham gestured to the exit, “Though, I would ask you to take extra caution, with it being darker than usual”

“I will” you nodded, making your way over to where Howzer was stationed at the door.

“Ah” Cham said suddenly, his eyes landing on the clone, “you know Captain Howzer, correct?”

Your eyebrows raised slightly as your eyes moved from the Twi’lek and over to Howzer, and he kept his expression as neutral as possible, despite being cautiously optimistic about your reaction.

“I do” you smiled at him, the slight tip of your head as you added, “Captain”

The inflection made it difficult for Howzer to keep a straight face, but he managed to supress his smirk nonetheless.

“Howzer, if you could escort the our guest here home, I would be very grateful” Cham addressed him.

“Certainly, sir” Howzer obliged, and followed the pair out of the room.

“Perhaps we can continue our conversation tomorrow?” You suggested to Cham as you descended the stairs, your voice airy and light, feigning innocence to anyone listening in.

“Yes, I was thinking the same thing” Cham replied, a glance in your direction that was not as subtle as your calculated demeanour.

Howzer trailed behind, keeping his distance and standing by the large doors while you said your goodbyes. You turned back towards him as Cham's receding footsteps rang out in the grand entrance hall, a tired smile gracing your lips.

“Shall we?” you asked, and Howzer promptly opened up the door, escorting you outside.

The air outside was cool, a light breeze gently rustling and scattering leaves along the stone floor of the town square. The feint scent of lavender hung in the air, and despite the amount of people moving about, civilians and clones alike, it felt still, calm.

“I didn't realise you were a Captain” you commented, looking up at him with a wry smile curving your lips.

Howzer couldn't hold back his smirk any longer, “I suppose we were both downplaying our roles then”

A soft laugh escaped you, and you shook your head at him, “I knew you were listening to that”

He shrugged, not sure what else to say for himself. He knew it wasn’t necessarily appropriate to be listening in on private conversations, no less private conversations that concerned the senate, but your expression told him you didn't mind all that much.

“So what do you usually do on Coruscant then?” he asked, taking his helmet in his other hand so he could inch marginally closer and hear you clearer.

You took a breath before you spoke, “for the most part, I attended senate sessions in his stead”

“How often did he have you doing that?” he questioned, lifting the branch of a tree as you passed underneath.

“Well…” you began, looking back ahead of you, “if I'm being honest, probably nine times out of ten”

Howzer's eyebrows raised, “you're essentially a Senator then”

You shook your head, a pessimistic chuckle leaving your lips, “whatever I was, it doesn't matter anymore”

Howzer knew when to keep quiet, and with the way your mask of stoicism swiftly covered your features again, he held his tongue. He had endless questions he wanted to ask you, and it took everything within him to keep his mouth shut.

Soon enough, you stopped outside a dwelling, a ground floor apartment with very little affluence to its outward appearance. If he had passed it by on his own, he never would have thought it belonged to a Senator, as he was now coming to think of you as.

“Thank you for the escort, Captain” you smiled up at him, “it seems I'm making a habit of dragging you around”

Howzer chuckled, especially as it didn’t seem like you were all that sorry about it, “I don't mind, I couldn't say it's really an inconvenience”

“I'm glad” you replied with a simper that set something alive inside of him.

He observed you for a moment. You were a little shorter than him, but your presence dwarfed him all the same, and he could feel the tips of his ears burning at your steady gaze. For all that you lived in Orn Free Taa's shadow, more literally than figuratively, you seemed exceptionally sure of yourself. It was a quiet confidence, where your imposing nature came from rationality and restraint, rather than in seeking unabashed dominance, like some other politicians. If you'd been raised in a different setting, he thought that you'd make a good soldier because of it.

“Well, thank you again” you spoke a little quieter, your hand raising to the control panel beside the door.

Howzer gave you a polite nod as he stepped back, “anytime”

You shortly disappeared behind the door, and Howzer turned to make his way to the barracks for the night. He rolled his neck, feeling the soreness that lingered there after a full day of keeping at attention.

His body still wasn't used to standing around all day, and neither was his mind, despite the fact that he felt he should be at peace. It was odd, really. He was in his element when in battle, and without it, he didn't know that he'd ever truly feel like himself again.

The following week passed without much consequence, but the mounting pressure was beginning to feel stifling.

Howzer had been stuck inside all morning with Cham, going over and rethinking the defence of the refinery just outside the city. It wasn't entirely clear to Howzer why it was so pertinent to guard the refinery so closely, but he wasn't in the mood for asking questions anymore. It was more for the fear of the answers he would get, especially from the Empire.

Finally, Cham dismissed him for lunch, and as it was far later than his usual lunch hour, he allowed him to take the rest of the day off as well. Howzer fully intended to join him again after he had replenished himself, but those plans were scrapped when he walked into the mess hall and saw you sitting in the back corner.

You looked so out of place. Your luxurious navy robe and silver jewellery only made you more noticeable, not to mention your pale lilac skin and lekku, but you were also the only other person in the room. You looked forlorn, and more outwardly emotional than he had ever seen you before. Your chin rested in your hand, your gaze fixed out of the window, and your lips were turned down in a frown.

Howzer called your name as he approached the table, and you whipped your head over to him, evidently having been lost in your thoughts. You gave him your best attempt at a smile, “Captain, how are you?”

Howzer brushed past the question, barely even registering it as he took the seat opposite you, “what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with the Senator?”

“Ah, yes. Well…” you trailed off for a moment, your eyes wandering back outside, “he dismissed me for the rest of the day”

Howzer frowned, “why? isn't that a good thing?”

You let out a humourless laugh, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. “He doesn't like when people speak out against him” you shrugged with a nonchalance that Howzer didn't quite believe, “I should know better really”

You hid your affliction well, but for Howzer, who had grown accustomed to your usual impassive expression, it was obvious that you were upset.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked, lowering his voice to what he hoped was a comforting tone.

“I didn't want to be around the other aides” you said, then glanced back at him with one side of your lips quirked up, “and I thought no one would be in here at this time”

Howzer huffed a laugh, “I'm sorry for disturbing you then”

“Don’t be” you smiled, genuinely this time, “I'm not”

Howzer’s eyebrows raised instinctively, a little taken aback by your candour. He supposed that you had never been anything but honest, so it shouldn't surprise him that much. You had withheld things, even obviously so, but you had never not made your opinion known when speaking truthfully.

“As it happens” he began, watching your reaction carefully, “I have the rest of the day off as well”

Your head tilted, almost imperceptibly, and you raised an eyebrow, encouraging him to go on.

“I could keep you company, if you'd like” he suggested.

Your lips lifted at his words, “I'd like that”

“Alright then…” Howzer smiled, looking out the window and then back to you, “have you eaten yet?”

You shook your head.

Howzer stood from his seat, “Let's go then”

Your eyebrows raised as you followed suit, stepping out of the bench and readjusting your robes, “let's go where?”

“I know a place” he shrugged, struggling to hold back his grin at your cautious expression.

You rolled your eyes in a playful manner as you fell into step beside him, “I didn't take you as one for clichés, Captain”

“Sorry” Howzer chuckled as he held open the door to the corridor, “it'll be worth it, I promise”

“Alright” you conceded with the ghost of a smirk crossing your face.

Soon enough the two of you were making your way through the marketplace, vendors and civilians alike milling about around you. There was a sense of joy in this area of the city that Howzer rarely got to see, an innocence, as if the war had never even happened. Children played together, chasing after each other while their parents watched on with bright smiles, eyes full of love.

“This way” Howzer said, gently guiding you down a side street, his hand accidently brushing your lower back as he placed a protective arm around you body to shield you from the hustle and bustle.

“You don't need to do that, Captain” you told him, “I'm not made of glass”

“Sorry, just doing my job” he insisted.

“By bringing me to some secret lunch spot?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Howzer huffed a laugh and his hand instinctively curled around the back of his neck, “I— uh, perhaps not”

“I’m just teasing” you smiled, “I don't expect you to do your job while you're not on duty”

“Then perhaps you can stop calling me Captain” he suggested, his heart beating a little faster, hoping you wouldn't see the request as improper.

Thankfully, you let out a small chuckle, “I suppose that makes sense”

Shortly, you came upon a stand that smelled divine, and the vendor's eyes shone as she saw Howzer approaching.

“Captain” she beamed, “it's been too long”

“It has” Howzer smiled back politely, “we'll just get two of the regular”

“Of course” the Twi'lek then cast her eyes to you, sweeping her gaze down your regal attire, “who's this?”

Howzer was going to answer, but you beat him to it, giving your name, and nothing else. He raised an eyebrow at you, wondering why you were so adverse to admit your importance, but you just glanced at him and subtly shook your head.

“Well, it's a pleasure” the vendor smiled, eyes darting between the two of you “never known the Captain here to bring anyone else with him”

“Is that so?” you asked, a wry smile curling your lips as you tilted your head to him.

Howzer could feel himself blushing, his cheeks burning as he looked down, “yeah, I guess not”

“Sorry Captain” the vendor chuckled, handing over two small boxes of food, “that'll be 15 credits”

Howzer busied himself with digging through the pouches in his belt, and pulling out the credits to hand over. Before the vendor could take them, you placed your hand on his arm to stop him.

“Please, let me” you insisted, pulling out your own credits from your pocket.

Howzer said your name in an aporetic tone, “you can't expect me to let you pay when I'm the one who brought you here”

“That's exactly what I expect” you spared him a glance as you counted your credits, and you looked startlingly serious.

“No” he shook his head, trying to hand over the credits again, “I won't let you”

You grabbed his arm and this time tugged it down, your gaze stern, “you will”

Howzer was more than a little confused by your actions, but he wasn't going to refuse what felt eerily like an order. A force of habit, perhaps, but the look in your eye was something fierce that he didn't want to be on the receiving end of again.

He let you hand over the credits to the vendor, whose lips were twisted in an amused smirk, an eyebrow raised at him. He waved it off, and led the two of you away, throwing a thank you over his shoulder as you left.

“Sorry” you looked up at him with more bashfulness than he’d ever seen from you, “I didn't mean to be rude”

“Don't worry about it” he smiled reassuringly, choosing not to dwell on it too much.

You mirrored his gesture back to him and then looked towards where he was leading you.

“So” you began, “where are you taking me now?”

Howzer's lips twitched with a smirk, “I told you, I know a place”

A genuine laugh escaped you, and Howzer's heart sang at the sound, “you're really talking it up”

“Trust me, it's worth the mystery” he claimed.

“Alright” you smiled with a light shake of your head, “I'll trust you”

Howzer led you out of the city, the streets becoming increasingly empty as you strolled, and the cheerful cries of children playing were exchanged for birdsong. The edge of the city gave way to a forest, tall whiptrees casting spindly shadows onto the outer buildings and scattering the floor with leaves.

As you made your way between the trees, you lifted the hem of your robes, an instinctual move on your part, but Howzer could only think about how graceful the action was. Your head was angled towards the ground, taking in the way the afternoon sun shone through the leaves and spread shadows across the forest floor.

Before long, the forest path opened up and you came upon a lake, the water a deep blue colour and glittering as it gently swayed in the breeze. Half of it was cast in shadow as a part of the cliff face above jutted out and hung over the body of water. Your eyes were full of wonder looking upon it, and he couldn’t take his own eyes away from your awe-struck expression.

“This is…” you failed to complete your sentence as you looked up at him with a wide grin, something of childlike wonder and pleasant surprise.

“It’s nice, right?” he said, taking a seat on a soft patch of grass by the side of the lake, gesturing for you to do the same.

“Yeah, you weren’t kidding” you laughed, your eyes dancing with amusement as you took your seat across from him, “this is some place you know”

Howzer allowed himself a smug look, a shrug to soften it, “told you”

He passed your food over, and popped the lid from his as you did the same. You inhaled through your nose, taking in the sweet yet spicy scent of the meal, and his lips lifted as you looked pleased by it. You both dug in using the utensil provided, and Howzer felt his shoulders relax as you let out a contented noise, your eyes closing for a moment to savour the taste.

“Good?” he prompted.

“Very” you nodded, opening your eyes, “you sure know how to spoil a girl”

Howzer could feel his cheeks burning as he chuckled and turned his attention down to his food. Your wry smile and the teasing glint in your eye was frankly too much for him to deal with if he wanted to maintain an air of professionalism, so he kept his head down for the remainder of the meal. It wasn't hard, the food was delicious after all.

“Howzer” your voice called to him, using his given name for the first time, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course” he said, placing his empty box down next to where you had left yours and giving you all of his attention again.

“Why is it that you're stationed in the senate bureau? If you're a Captain, I would have thought you might be elsewhere” you clarified.

“Oh” he looked past you for a moment, searching for the right words, “well, now that the war is over, I don't serve the same purpose. Cham trusts me, I suppose — we work well together, so for the time being, I'm stationed with him”

You nodded as he spoke, taking a moment to understand the information before you spoke up again. It was the very practiced act of a politician, and Howzer noted the concentration in your eyes that he only usually saw in meetings.

“Cham isn't a fan of the Senator, is he?”

Howzer hesitated, giving you a dubious look.

“I'm just curious, I'm not going to speak of it with anyone else” you assured him, and he relaxed a touch.

“No, we're not big fans of him, really” he admitted.

Your lips curled into a smirk instantly, “we?”

Howzer realised his slip up, a nervous laugh escaping him, “uh— yeah, I'm not a fan of politicians in general I suppose”

This time your eyebrow raised, and Howzer realised the error of his ways before you even spoke.

“I mean— no, I didn't mean it like that—” he tried to explain himself.

“Relax” you laughed, interrupting his ramblings with a hand over his forearm, “I don't like them either”

The weight of your hand delicately placed over his vambrace was surprising, but that's not what made Howzer raise his brows.

“Why not? You work with them”

“Exactly” you huffed, drawing back from him.

He watched on as you turned towards the lake and stretched out your legs, a brown pair of boots emerging from beneath your robes. They looked out of place poking out from the rich navy material, oddly comfortable among all the opulence. He supposed that they weren't usually visible, and it felt like a strange look into your psyche, who you were beneath all of the political propriety.

“It's odd, being back on Ryloth” you mused quietly, you eyes trailing the cliff which hung over the lake, leaning back on your palms.

“How so?” Howzer asked, slumping forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Well, I'm not from around here. It's like being home, but not really” you paused, tilting your head a little “and I suppose I'm more used to being on Coruscant now.” A small crease formed in your brow as you continued to speak candidly, “I've just— I've been so busy, for years, and now… well, I'm back to being a shadow”

Howzer frowned, “you want to be… important?”

“No” you said straight away, shaking your head, “I don't need to be important, I just want to be useful”

Howzer heard how defeated you sounded, but he saw it even more in the look on your face. Your mouth turned downwards in a frown and your eyes flicked towards your feet as you kicked your heel into the ground. He called your name gently, and your head snapped over to him.

“Why did the Emperor send you away?”

You sighed as you turned your body towards him again, you legs curled up beside you, “I can't know for sure, but… it's most likely because I was too vocal”

“Vocal?” Howzer asked in surprise. You were so quiet in the sessions he had attended that it seemed out of the question.

You chuckled, “yes, even when he was the Supreme Chancellor, he didn't like that I was one of very few who actually called for change within the senate”

“What kind of change?”

“It was things such as… improved spending policy, advocating for clone rights, fair distribution of relief supplies among—”

“Clone rights?” he interrupted, “what do you mean?”

“Well, I'm sure you're well aware that the clone army aren't recognised within the senate, you're—” you paused, “you're property, for want of a better term, to the Republic, and now the Empire. You don't get a choice in whether you serve or not, and you're not paid for it, it's essentially slave labour”

Howzer didn't know how to feel about it being put so bluntly. They were things he'd considered before, especially since the birth of the Empire, but to hear it so concisely described, it put a nasty feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to—”

“No, you’re right” he said, dragging his eyes away from you.

“But that's why it's important; a bill put forward against it would seek to give you the option to serve, and a wage should you choose to”

“Do you think it would pass?” he asked.

The sigh that left your lips gave him his answer, “truthfully, I don't know. There's a lot of vile people in this galaxy, people who would see to it that you aren't given what you're owed”

“And what am I owed?” Howzer questioned, a hint of mirth in his voice.

“To be treated like a person” you said simply.

Howzer was taken aback by how easily your mouth formed those words. He had no idea that there were a number of people in the senate that were advocating for him and his brothers, but the fact that you were one of them made his head spin. It just made him respect you more, a newfound reverence for you washing over him.

“I've kind of always operated under the belief that you've just got to do what you can, but the things within my reach have significantly decreased, and now… I don't know whether a bill like that would pass under the Empire, if it was contested when we were still a Republic”

Howzer nodded. He could understand that reasoning, however bleak it was.

“Is this why you wouldn't let me pay for the food earlier?” he then asked, one side of his lips curling up.

You chuckled slightly, looking down to the grass that you both sat upon, “Yeah, it was”

An unfamiliar warmth spread throughout Howzer’s chest, spilling throughout his veins and begging to reach out and tip your head back up to look at him.

“I probably shouldn’t have told you all that” you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes with a particularly sheepish expression which he couldn't help but find extremely endearing.

He offered you a smile, “your secrets are safe with me”

You returned the kind expression and sat up straight, a thoughtfulness about you that stoked the warmth inside of him.

“You're a good man, Howzer” you told him, eyes shining with something vulnerable, “you've been nothing but kind to me ever since I got here, and I just have to thank you for that”

Every word you spoke only sought to make him more enamoured by you, and he could feel the way a violent blush was creeping up the back of his neck, threatening to take over his face.

“You don't need to thank me” he replied, “you've made it very easy”

taglist: @darthnihila @cdblake1565 @heidnspeak @mae-lou-ron

#trex writings #captain howzer x reader #star wars #the bad batch #tbb #bad batch #clone troopers #clones #howzer #captain howzer #tbb howzer #howzer x reader #bad batch howzer #clone trooper howzer #clone trooper #clone x reader #divider by saradika #the clone wars #tcw

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underthetree845 · 11 months ago

Text

His Lady

Chuuya/fem pm! Reader Cws: pm fem! reader, mutual pining, getting together, alcohol tw, jealous chuuya, fluff, pent up emotions, light angst (little argument), reader is high up in the port mafia, reader flirts to get information (briefly), new years party, let me know if I missed anything! About 3.5k words Summary: What was being built up finally spills over at the new years eve party all the higher ups in the port mafia have to attend. A/n: So happy late new years I guess! I don't know I wanted to try a little something. Chuuya is so hard to figure out how to write- I did my best though! Black hearts divider credit // Red hearts divider credit.

You strode up to the grand staircase clad in your pretty crimson dress, the one gifted to you exactly one week prior. He told you that the shade would match his suit lining and tie. You didn’t question why he thought the two of you should match, but it proved impossible to stop thinking about leading up to the event. The boss’s sudden calling for an end of the year bash at the most luxurious banquet hall in town was suspicious to say the least, but with how often every executive and subordinate in the port mafia felt overworked, no one could find it in themselves to care.

As a high-ranking member yourself, Mori had you preview the profiles of some of the guests that would be attending. You were sure your superiors were swamped with even more. The presence of an executive alone provided a statement. Who they chose to mingle with, who they pointedly ignored.

Just as you were about to head inside, a familiar voice sounded from behind you. The word fell from his lips before he could stop it. “Damn,” he murmured. You spun around on instinct, and were met with the stormy blue pair of eyes you had grown so fond of; somehow all the more dazzling under the light of the moon.

“Chuuya,” you breathed, taking the time to soak in his appearance. Just as promised, his tie, suit lining, and even the handkerchief peeking out of his pocket were a deep scarlet. The way his gray vest hugged his body complemented his frame in a way that made your stomach do backflips. For once, Chuuya decided to step out into the world without the familiar pork pie that usually sat atop his head. It was a true blessing whenever you got to admire the way his hair fell to frame his face so artfully; what you wouldn’t give to run your fingers through it.

Your breath hitched when you noticed the way his eyes raked over your form, and you had to clear your throat once for the man to blink back to reality. You could have sworn that the faintest tint of red adorned his cheeks. “...Could you be any more gorgeous?” Chuuya let out a low chuckle and suddenly you felt your face go hot. “I- uh-” you stammered for a moment before clearing your throat a second time, “Come on, let’s head inside, people are expecting us.” you turned and approached the entryway. Chuuya followed closely behind you, sharing a nod with the servant who held the door open. The hall was littered with specs of gold; spotlights, balloons, and crystalline chandeliers distorting light and scattering it around the room. Round, black-clothed tables formed the perimeter, each with a warm oil lamp sitting comfortably at its center. Expensive-looking tapestries hung between tall marble pillars against every wall, only further complementing the gold-traced designs etched into the molding. Servers wearing black bow ties and suits fluttered from table to table like honey bees in a garden, eager to serve their purpose with a near endless list of tasks. Your heels tapped lightly against the polished floor as you made your way inside, trying not to gape at the extravagant orchestra that played in the far corner.

A long balcony wrapped around the perimeter of the room above your head with doors along the outer wall. It hung over a portion of the tables, shrouding them in shadow and contrasting greatly with the way the center of the hall was illuminated to create a slightly elevated dance floor. Clear glass made up almost the entirety of the walls above the balcony, creating a translucent dome that surely made for a very pretty picture on such a night. You and Chuuya found your way to a vacant table and it wasn’t long before you were approached by a waiter who requested that you provide your drink and food orders for the evening. “This place is breathtaking,” you commented, eyes still scanning over the venue. “I wanna know how much of our goddamn budget the boss spent on this,” Chuuya clicked his tongue and crossed his arms. He leaned back in his seat and you gave him a sympathetic smile. He sighed as he felt his resolve crumble away. It didn’t take long for your drinks to arrive. “S’ there anything you were looking forward to tonight?” Chuuya asked lightly, swirling around the wine in his newly-acquired glass before taking a sip. You paused for a moment. “...You mean, other than the huge New Years Eve bash being thrown by the mafia in, like, literally the most high class place I’ve ever stepped foot in?” “I mean, what were you hoping to get out of the evening?” Chuuya mused, “How’re you hoping to end this year?” Well.

“Oh… I’m not really sure. Honestly it’s pretty nice already to get to enjoy this place,” you smiled bashfully, bringing the rim of the wine glass to come into contact with your lips. Slowly, your head tilted back, allowing the chilled liquid to slide down your throat. The Dolcetto was rich and sweet, refreshing and left an herbal tang on your tongue. Appreciating the complexities of wine had gotten easier since meeting Chuuya. “I know of a few more places like this, if you’re interested,” Chuuya offered nonchalantly, “I could always use some company.” Your head snapped in his direction. “...Seriously? You would?” he couldn’t help but admire the small glimmer in your eyes. “Yeah, if it’d make you smile like that, I’d do it every week,” he replied with a grin. You leaned back in your seat with a new thrum of excitement in your chest. “What about you, Chu?” you inquired curiously, “Were you hoping for anything special tonight?” Now it was Chuuya’s turn to pause. The longer he looked at you, the harder it was to deny the growing ache in his chest. Being around you was one the thing he had always been waiting for yet he never knew he needed. He wanted to be able to come home to you after a long day. To show you how much you meant to him. To open his eyes and have you be the first thing coming into his focus on a Saturday morning, knowing that neither of you have to get out of bed. He would take you anywhere your heart desired, hand you the world on a silver platter if he could. “To be honest Y/n,” he started, “the best part of tonight is-” “Ah, to meet you at last, Mr. Nakahara!” a lively voice sounded from your left. It belonged to a stout man, maybe a few centimeters taller than Chuuya, who gripped onto the lapel of his suit with both thumbs and stood with one leg out. The executive looked over to study him for a moment. “Oh,” you saw Chuuya’s eyes flicker with recognition, “Mr. Penrod, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He put on one of his business smiles and stood from the table as you watched with intrigue. Atop Penrod’s head sat a suspiciously lopsided fluff of black hair, mostly brushed back in an effort to emulate elegance. Penrod’s eyes flickered from yours back to Chuuya’s and his expression changed. “Ah, forgive me madam,” he turned to you with a slight bow, “Would you allow me the pleasure of knowing your name?” “Ah, it’s L/n Y/n, and the pleasure is all mine,” you stood with a polite curve of your lips and shared a handshake with the man, which he prolonged for a moment longer than what would have been entirely comfortable. “Mr. Mori just sent me your way, Mr. Nakahara sir,” Penrod brought his hands together with an amiable grin, “I believe there are certain matters of due time for us to discuss.” It was clear who he intended to share the discussion with and who he did not. Not that it really bothered you; he wasn’t on the profile list Mori gave you anyway. “Would you mind if I stole you away from your lady for a brief time?” “‘Course not,” Chuuya replied, turning to you for a moment, “You don’t mind, do you, Y/n?” “I- no, not at all,” your voice wavered slightly. Chuuya nodded. Your eyes trailed the pair until they disappeared into the crowd, and you slumped back in your seat. The flutter in your chest was impossible to suppress. There was a single thought running through your mind: Why didn’t Chuuya correct him?

One hour left. Lipstick stained the rim of your wine glass, and your second and your third. A plate of appetizers sat mockingly on the table, long since left to go cold. Taking one more glance at the empty seat to your right, you decided that waiting any longer would prove to be a waste of your time. You caught several stares as you made your way through the sea of people, eyes filtering the crowd for any face you could recognize. At last, you spotted a man standing at the bar with sharp blue eyes and blonde hair straight as a pin. It has been slicked back, and he appeared to have a habit of running his right hand through it every so often. You let out a sigh, put on your best sugary grin, and strode over to tap the shoulder of the man’s navy suit. He turned his head, and you didn’t miss the way his eyes studied the contours of your body and face before a suave smile settled on his lips. The feeling that formed in the pit of your stomach was so different from the one you got when Chuuya looked at you that way. The man’s name, as you pretended not to know as he introduced himself, was Yamamoto Taishi. He was twenty six years old, a recent graduate of the finest college of finance and business relations in the country, the youngest son of the chairman of banking relations in Japan, and, as you quickly discovered, stupidly easy to win over. All it took was a few feathery touches up his arm, batting your eyelashes, taking one step closer, and you had him on the barstool next to you, babbling away in intricate detail about all the deals he was to handle alongside his father with flushed cheeks and breath that reeked of whisky. Little did you know, a certain redhead across the room was having trouble not shattering his own whiskey glass to pieces at the sight. The way Yamamoto looked at you made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Calm down dammit, Chuuya told himself, It means nothing. You know that. “Isn’t that something, Mr. Nakahara?” a gentleman’s voice sounded from his left, and Chuuya snapped back to the conversation he no longer cared to be engaged in. “Without a doubt,” he voiced smoothly, “Actually, I wouldn’t mind hearing more. Do you think you could elaborate on the last part of what you said?” “Of course, back to-” Miyazaki started again. Or Minamoto, or Mitsuba, or whoever the hell the guy introduced himself as.

Chuuya found himself unable to care as his gaze trailed back over to your form. He grit his teeth at the way the blonde man next to you seemed to be leaning closer and closer with every passing second. The moment the man decided to rest his hand on your thigh, what remained of Chuuya’s patience dissipated in a matter of seconds. Murmuring something about excusing himself to the restroom, Chuuya abandoned his glass on a nearby table and tried to calm the stinging feeling under his skin as he swiftly approached the scene. Thirty minutes left. “Ah, there you are, Darlin’, I was looking for you,” you recognized his voice instantly; before you could even process what he said, you felt his gloved hand snake around your waist to rest low on your hip. Chuuya’s cologne invaded your senses when his form leaned into yours, your heart giving an involuntary stutter. He eyed down the man still sitting in front of you; you’d be embarrassed to admit that you forgot the blonde existed for a moment. Retracting his grip from your thigh, Yamamoto leaned one elbow on the bar and upturned his chin to give Chuuya a sneer. “And who are you supposed to be? You’re kind of intruding.” “Yeah, Chuuya, what exactly are you doing?” you questioned. He ignored the implication in your tone. “You shouldn’t be fooling around with guys like this,” Chuuya turned his head to look at you and you struggled to place the emotion in his eyes, “you’re out of their league.” Yamamoto’s frown deepened. “And just who are you to claim that? The way I see it everyone gets a fair shot,” he retorted. “I’d just rather have my lady not waste her time on…” Chuuya gave the man a once over, “a man so clearly lacking the ability to treat her the way she deserves.” “You didn’t answer my ques-” Yamamoto tried to object again but Chuuya cut him off. “Anyway, we’d better get going, don’t you think so, Gorgeous?” Chuuya grinned at you, and you found your protests weak as he slid his hand down to grasp yours and lead you somewhere the air was quieter.

The hidden staircase had been cut from a gray granite; it spiraled left as you ascended. You barely got to take in the view of the ball from above before Chuuya swung a door open that led you outside. Twenty minutes left. The cool air on your skin did little to quell the heat bubbling underneath. You swore to yourself that you would refuse to leave the balcony until the executive gave you some clear answers.

Chuuya released your hand from his grasp but kept walking until he reached the polished railing overlooking the city and port of Yokohama. He leaned against it with a sigh, looking out onto the horizon as a thick silence filled the air.

“So, will you explain, or do I have to ask?” you started slowly, stepping up to meet him. He turned to look at you, his eyes deep and filled with thought. “What’s there to explain?” he sighed, turning to face you and leaning his hip against the railing, “Last time I checked, you’re not an idiot.” “That’s-” you let out a breath, “that’s besides the point. It’s still something that should be said.” “What is?” Chuuya’s grip on the railing tightened. “Why you acted like that with Taishi back there,” you attempted to prod, “I was just trying to squeeze information out of him. You know that, you were doing the exact same thing.” “Oh, so you’re on a first name basis with the gentleman now?” Chuuya scoffed slightly and you rolled your eyes. “First of all he insisted that I call him that, and second of all, buttering him up was the easiest way to get him to start telling me what I needed to know. Which I would have found out a lot more of, by the way, if someone hadn’t interrupted.” “I’d hardly call what you and I were doing ‘the same thing,’” Chuuya murmured, and you furrowed your brow. “And why not? The boss gave you a list too, right?” you placed a hand on your hip, “Profiles, attendees, individuals in possession of valuable assets. Yamamoto is quite the blabbermouth when he’s eager to show off.” “Freakin’ hell, I wasn’t the one...” Chuuya gestured to nothing, “gettin’ handsy with some goddamn court brat! From what I could tell there was a lot more than just an informational exchange going on there.” “Why does that bother you, Chuuya?” you took a step closer, “You still haven’t answered my question.” Lowering his eyebrows, Chuuya brought his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, and let out a sigh before crossing his arms. “You want me to spell it out for you or somethin’?” he looked at you again, defensiveness subtle in his tone. “Yes, Chuuya! That’s what I’ve been asking,” you replied, your eyes steady. Ten minutes left. “You want me to explain why I hate seeing you flirt around with other guys like that?” he scoffed slightly, annoyance bleeding into his voice. You noted the way he said 'other.' “I wasn’t flirting, that wasn’t real, you know that!” you insisted, but the man just continued. “You want me to explain why I can’t bear to see you making eyes n’ shit like that? Why I wish I could just keep you close?” Chuuya’s voice raised in volume. “For someone so direct you sure are being elusive about this, Chuuya,” you implored the man. “You want me to explain why I wanted to make sure we would match tonight? Why I bought you that dress that you look so… goddamn perfect in…” Chuuya clenched his jaw. “It’s because I want you to myself. It kills me that I can't tell if you care, and it kills me that I can’t seem to control myself around you.” “Chu, you-” you were about to cut him off but his fuse reached a boiling point. “I can’t control the fact that I love you, okay, Y/n?” he shouted slightly, “I…” he trailed off, and a deafening silence hung in the air. The flush that creeped into Chuuya’s cheeks rivaled the red of his hair. Five minutes left. Muttering a few curses under his breath, Chuuya turned to face the city lights down below, sliding his hands into his pockets.

Chuuya had been drawn to you like a moth to flame. It wasn't right, your relationship was supposed to be professional, with you technically being one of his subordinates and all. Murder and death were common in the field you both worked in. His affection for you scared him. After all, what good things are meant to last? He wanted to protect you, he'd never forgive himself if he let such a beautiful soul be ripped from the world. Chuuya found that you were strong, kind, and no matter how many times you insisted otherwise, so much braver than he could ever be. He adored the way you always fuss over his injuries after a mission, even if it was the tiniest bruise. You deserved all the good things the world had to offer, and a small selfish part of himself hoped you could find it in him.

The man glanced your way and let out a sigh to find that you hadn’t moved from your position. “Listen… Y/n,” his voice was steady and quiet, “I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to…” “So…” you started, and Chuuya held his breath, “you were jealous?” Chuuya let out a few sputters and turned to face you again. Only then did he notice the tinted color of your cheeks. The way you clutched a fist to your chest and looked at him like no one and nothing else existed in the whole world. The smallest hint of hope flickered in your expression, and his heart did a backflip. “I… guess you could call it that,” he admitted with uncharacteristic hesitancy. It took a moment for you to voice your response. “...I would be jealous too,” you muttered, and although Chuuya caught what you said he asked you to repeat yourself. “What was that?” he took a step forward, blinking a few times. You took a deep breath. “If I saw someone flirting with you- or if I saw you ‘making eyes’ at someone else… I would get jealous too…” you felt heat crawl up your neck at your declaration. Chuuya looked at you like your head was on backwards. “And why is that?” his voice carried softly, neither of you taking notice of the muffled sound of voices counting down from inside. “Because I love you too Chu…” you spoke quietly but he still caught it. You could hear your heart pumping in your ears. Just as Chuuya was about to spill out a reply, a startling boom sounded from your left. You turned your head and sucked in a breath at the display. Eruptions of colored fire danced around each other in the night sky. They echoed through the air, creating ethereal reflections in the water off in the distance.

“Happy New Years, Gorgeous,” Chuuya’s tender gaze never left your face. You turned back to look at him, and in that moment, with the way the moon and fireworks illuminated your form, he swore the sight before him was the most breathtaking view of his entire life. A light breeze blew by, the echoing explosions from the fireworks somehow fading into the distance. He glanced down at your lips and, even if ever so slightly began to lean in. A fuzzy feeling started in your chest as you closed the gap. His lips were warm, you’d never grow tired of the way he held you, kissed you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. You murmured softly after you pulled away, gentleness laced in your expression. “Happy New Years, Chu.”

A/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you can find many things that make you smile this year ^^

Tagging: @a-random-weeb @ringsofsaturnnnn

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joshsindigostreak · 5 months ago

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Running Through the Garden

Chapter One

“Rosemary: Remembrance, your presence revives me.” - Language of flowers.

Werewolf!Danny x Werewolf!OC

Authors Note: Hey y’all!!! Hope y’all enjoy this first full chapter of Danny’s story! I’m having a blast writing him 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Brief SMUT, 18+, m!masturbation.

The drive back to Sam’s house was a quiet blur for Danny. He replayed the memory by the lake over and over again, trying to figure out where exactly Ivy had run off to, even if it was futile effort knowing her. If Ivy Phillips didn’t want to be found she simply wasn’t, which was why he hadn’t seen her in the years since they graduated. Ever since the morning she left there had been no trace of her. No social media, no LinkedIn profile, nothing; she never showed up in any tagged photos of their mutual friends either. He only knew that she was alright because their parents had mutual friends and there had been light chatter between the parents about their kids. She didn’t want anything to do with him and made it abundantly clear.

But he could never figure out why she distanced herself. Things between them had been great, and Danny saw a future with her that he had never seen with anyone else, but those plans had been halted since that fateful morning when he woke up alone to a cold bed.

Sam had tried to get his attention a few times but eventually let his friend have some time to himself. He never took it personally when Danny was quiet the morning after a Full Moon, as he knew that he was probably exhausted and just needed a proper shower and a nap. Over the years Danny had essentially taken over one of the downstairs guest rooms. To make it less obvious as to why he was sleeping at their house, Sam would come up with various half truths to convince his parents that Danny was just a little codependent on him and loved being with their family. When they were teens, Sam snuck Danny into the house some mornings, terrified his parents would catch on and see his disheveled friend and figure out he was a Wolf.

When they got back to the Kiszka Manor, the monthly routine continued with Danny making a bee line for his usual room. It was the only guest room with its own en-suite, which allowed the young Wolf to have even more time to lose himself in his thoughts.

The scalding hot spray felt heavenly in his sore body. He watched the excess dirt run off his body and down the drain as he scrubbed at his hair and scalp. Mid-lather those giant green eyes flashed in his mind again, and he almost groaned at the memory. He was convinced he’d never see them again. Another memory of her familiar scent flooded his brain and his hands stopped what they were doing in his hair. His eyes fluttered shut as he got lost in it.

Ivy was Spring personified. She always reminded him of how the earth would smell after an early morning rain, when flowers would just start to open up as the Sun peaked out from behind the clouds. Memories of waking up with his face buried in her fiery hair trickled in, when his first thoughts of the day would be about her and he’d pull her even closer.

Danny tilted his head back under the shower head to rinse out his shampoo. It had been a long time since he had thought about her. He decided years ago that dwelling too much on memories of her ruined his entire week and he couldn’t keep putting himself through it. But after last night he couldn’t help it. He had seen her for the first time since the last month before he graduated, and it almost felt like a dream.

His skin prickled and he realized that the adrenaline from the Full Moon was still coursing through him. He tried distracting himself with his conditioner routine, but it was no use. Leaning against the shower wall, Danny wrapped his left hand around his aching cock. He didn’t even try to muffle the groan that escaped his full lips. He missed her so fucking much. There had been others before and after her, but no one felt as good wrapped around him as she did. Memories of being tangled together in his dorm, waking up together in the forest around Lake Champlain after a Full Moon, being locked in a bathroom together at a party and lifting her onto the sink while she sucked bruises on his neck and undid his belt, the taste of her core filling his mouth and him wanting to drown in it, the way she would shake underneath him when she came, the way he would shake above her with his forearms bracketing her head and his fingers tangled in her hair. His brain couldn’t focus on just one image before flipping to another one.

His hand worked his swollen cock even faster, squeezing the head every few strokes while his bottom lip sank beneath his teeth. His right hand was braced on the shower wall, and his head tilted to the side to rest on his arm as he got closer and closer. He missed her so fucking bad. He missed how they’d always end up at the apartment she shared with her roommates after a Full Moon and they’d wash the grime and outdoors off each other in a shower that was barely big enough for two people.

A wave of emotion mingled with the pleasure flooding his system. Those green eyes, always looking at him, looking through him, the only Wolf to never treat him like the future Alpha he was. He was just Danny to her, and he loved that. There was never any pressure between the two of them. They were just two college students trying to figure out how to be adults. He never had to worry about Duty with her. She was never intimidated by his mere presence like other Wolves around campus, or back home.

Danny’s mind finally settled on an image, a memory, of them facing each other on the soft forest floor, the sun barely peeking through the trees. He felt her hand on his face before he fully opened his eyes, and when they fluttered open those green eyes that he loved so much were warmly staring at him. Her thumb gently brushed over the dried blood near his mouth, and he noticed she had a matching stain on her face as well. That was who they were, at their most vulnerable, bare to each other in more ways than one, all alone except for a few birds in the trees above them.

His length thickened in his hand, and with a few last pumps and a low groan he found his release. He kept his eyes screwed shut as he worked himself through his high, trying as hard as he could to make it last while focusing on the sleepy smile on her face. As he slowly came down and his hand slowed, he shuddered as the last shockwave of his orgasm pulsed through him. His eyes fluttered open and he saw his release dripping down the tiled wall, and the reality of the last few minutes hit him.

He had just jerked off over his ex in his best friend's guest shower.

Danny was grateful for Sam being a human and being unable to hear what he had been up to from wherever he was in the house.

The Wolf sighed and used the shower head to rinse his mess down the drain, and finished his shower in silence.

~!~

Later, after sleeping most of the morning, he finally got properly dressed and grabbed two bananas out of the kitchen before going to the one place he knew Sam would be: the basement.

Sam's “office” was in the far corner of the underground level, hidden behind his own stacks of books and artifacts. In the years that the house existed, this particular corner still wasn’t as renovated as the rest of it, but Sam did his best to make it homey and definitively his. A few posters had made it down to this level from, including a standard Redwings poster that he snagged from a book fair in third grade, and one of those artsy “anatomy of a bass guitar” prints with certain parts crossed out and corrected with a black sharpie, and an old Lakewood University print bought right before they graduated.

But as Danny made it past the final stack that hid his best friend from view, he was greeted with one of the few normal and comforting images in his life: Sam hunched over his hand-me-down desk scribbling into a black journal before popping the pen he was using between his teeth to quickly type something on his laptop.

The Wolf lightly rapped his knuckles on the wall to his left and Sam looked up at him with wide eyes and his pen still in his mouth.

“Did you sleep enough?”

Danny looked at him incredulously as he took a seat in the chair that sat directly in front of Sam’s desk.

“Yeah, why?”

Sam gave him a knowing look, “because you look like shit.”

Danny rolled his eyes, “I’m fine. It was just a more intense Full Moon than I anticipated.”

Sam knew his best friend was lying, “sure it was.”

“I’m serious.”

“…and I’m the governor of Oregon, Daniel.”

Danny dropped one of the bananas on the desk as Sam sat back and folded his hands on his lap. He kept the other in his hand and began peeling it without another word.

Sam ignored his intended snack, “but seriously what’s up?”

Danny knew he couldn’t keep anything from him, “I saw her last night.”

Sam stared back at him blankly, “…who?”

“Ivy.”

At the sound of her name, Sam's face hardened and he made his chair squeak by him adjusting how he sat. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the She-Wolf, as she had utterly broken his best friend's heart and essentially abandoned him years ago. She hasn’t been around to see Sam pick up the pieces and help Danny move on.

“‘You sure it was her?”

Danny gave him a flat look as he chewed his banana, “red fur, green eyes, and a scent that has haunted me since junior year. I would always know if it was her.”

Sam sat there silently, wondering what the hell she was doing in Michigan in the first place. From what he could recall she was from Texarkana, and had seemingly gone back there when she disappeared right before graduation. At least that’s what the Instagram chatter implied. She had a mild twangy accent that Danny went stupid over.

“What would she be doing up here, in this town especially?” He verbalized his thoughts anyway.

Danny shrugged, “no idea but she was definitely out there last night.” The Wolf put gis resting bitch face to good use so Sam wouldn’t pick up on the glimmering hope that was producing butterflies in his gut.

“She was probably just passing through,” Sam offered.

“Wolves don’t just pass through anywhere, and you know that,” Danny replied in a flat tone.

He was right, unfortunately. While Wolves weren’t nearly as territorial as they had been not even a century ago, pack territories still remained internally governed and guarded. The section of the forest that Danny Ran around was put in place by his father as a potential future location to expand the territory when Danny took his place as Alpha. It was adjacent to the territory the family already occupied, so there was little fuss with Danny using it as his own for the time being. However the longer and longer he went without taking responsibility for his Pack, the more worrisome his parents and other Pack members became. But in order to do that, Danny needed to complete a Mating Bond with someone, and the young wolf had been extremely picky ever since he had returned home from college.

Danny seemingly had the same thought run through his head, and his eyebrows raised, “if she’s here…then she had to have had permission by a neighboring Pack to Run in their territory…and that patch of forest does butt up right against the Reynolds’ territory.”

Now it was Sam’s turn to raise his eyebrows, “the chances of her joining neighboring Pack are so-”

“Slim, I know, but that couldn’t have been a coincidence.”The logical side of Sam’s brain threatened to interject, but he kept his mouth shut. The Wolf continued, “I could text Jason…he’d know if there were any new Pack members.” Jason Reynolds being the nephew of the Reynolds Alpha, of course. He was a few years older than Danny, but had always maintained a quiet friendship with him as their fathers were allies.

“Danny.”

The gentle giant had stood up, turning to leave, “what?”

Concern riddled Sam’s features, “just…don’t get your hopes up, ok?”

Danny truly appreciated where Sam was coming from, but he was too anxious about the possibility of Ivy being this close to him.

He looked down at the abandoned fruit on the desk, “eat your damn banana, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes followed him as his best friend disappeared in the stacks and left the basement. A sigh left his lips as he rubbed his own exhausted eyes. Being best friends with a Werewolf was not for the weak.

~!~

However, across town there was a red headed She-Wolf curled up in her bed, not wanting to face the reality of the previous night. She had seen him for the first time in years, and her own heart and body betrayed her by how it responded by merely being in his presence. She had tried her best to not let him know that her body was thrumming with adrenaline not because of the Full Moon, but because of Danny himself. Years had gone by and she still felt the rush and magnetic pull to him like she had that very first day of junior year. His Wolf form was still so gorgeous and dignified, with his thick black fur and dark hazel eyes. Trotting around that pond like he owned the place, following her in a reverence that no other Wolf had shown her. But at the sound of her brother’s howl, she bolted, just like she always did.

She could have stayed.

She wanted to stay.

She should have stayed.

But she didn’t. She let the panic and apprehension govern her actions and she took off into the trees without looking back. With each step her paws took she felt her heart crack even more. Running from him felt so unnatural and just plain wrong, but it was how it was to be. Running to him at this point in their lives led to an unknown she wasn’t ready to face. If he chose her like he had promised years ago, would they themselves change along with it? She knew how her mother had changed for her father, and she always resented the mere idea of being a “Luna,” as the older Wolves referred to her future role. The title made her face crinkle as she thought of the word. She hated it. She never understood the reason behind it, no matter how many other Wolves tried to explain to her that it was the highest term of endearment in their species one could call their Mate. It felt old fashioned and suffocating to her. As soon as her parents had Bonded, her mother’s life and ambitions were abandoned to give her father children, Ivy’s older brother Derek being born within a year of said Bonding. Her mother was rarely referred to by her own name afterwards, even by the other Wolves in the pack.

No longer Alyssa Burke, now Phillips; just Luna, or Mom.

Ivy refused to let that happen to her.

But on the other hand, Danny was Danny.

The one Wolf who had held her so gently as if he was afraid she’d break at any moment, the only Wolf to hold her in such a way. The first time his eyes locked with hers all of the breath had left her lungs and she had nearly dropped her books in front of the entire quad. She wasn’t even supposed to be going in that direction on campus, but something deep down told her to walk towards the little grove of trees at the edge of the quad, where a lot of students would hang out on the stone benches that sat under the leaves. That's where he was., quietly conversing with a skinny male with long brown hair. But it was a sudden gust of wind that made him snap his attention to her. The breeze had rushed past her, sending her fiery hair over her face, and by the time she got it behind her ears she could feel his stare.

He sat there, stock still on that bench, completely ignoring his friend while he looked at her. Ivy herself halted in her tracks, nearly tripping over a slightly raised brick. To them, at that moment, they were the only people on that quad. The tiny voice got louder in her head, “go, go go,” it called so loud her ears started ringing. Her own feet acted before she could make a decision, and she shoved past an obvious human that was in her way.

Ivy rolled over and shook her head, trying to rid herself of the memory that plagued her mind. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to get her body to finally sleep. It took several minutes but at last she felt herself drifting off, the last thing she felt was a few tears sliding down onto her pillow, staining the fabric under her cheek.

To be continued…

Tag List: @dannyandthekiszkas , @readyforthegarden , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @kakejiszkas , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting , @texas-bbq-pringles , @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface , @sadiechar, @char289 , @stardustvanfleet , @sunfl0wer-power , @holdingup-fallingsky , @bladenotblaze , @gretavanlace , @lipstickitty , @jjwasneverhere , @josiee-gvf , @peaceloveunitygvf , @exokpopfreak, @gretavanhockey , @gretavanazula

#danny wagner #greta van fleet #danny gvf #running through the garden #Danny Wagner x oc #werewolf!danny #mutual pining #second chance at love #fated mates #my fics #my writing

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spenceragnewfics · 5 months ago

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THE MEET CUTE | Trevor Evarts x F!Reader

I'm so sorry if this sucks!

Summary: As a popular Youtuber and close friend of Chanse, you get invited to be on TNTL and meet an unlikely friend.

Word Count: 614

Being an influencer wasn’t something you ever thought you would be. Granted, you did grow up in the peak age of online content so it shouldn’t have been too surprising when you decided to try your hand at it during the pandemic. You were bored and thought it would help the time pass, it did plus you got five million followers in the span of three years as well.

During that time, you met a friend named Chanse. You two met at a mutual friend’s house and have been best buds since. His humor works perfectly with yours and you two are known for being super close. He used to be in a lot of your videos over Zoom or Facetime which got him some popularity too.

It’s because of Chanse that you are sitting on the Smosh Pit set right now, getting ready to film TNTL. You had watched the series for years so it feels like a dream to be filming it, especially with your best friend being right next to you. You had met some of the cast and crew before shooting but this was something else.

Sitting on the stool, your fingers are typing away when someone walks onto the stage. “Oh, hey, you’re Y/N, right?” A male voice asks and you look up to see the most beautiful man you have ever seen. His light brown hair and facial hair make his youthful face more mature but his glasses help keep his youthful look.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am. And you are?” You ask, getting off the chair. “I’m Trevor. It’s great to finally meet you, Chanse has said a lot about you.”` You look at him shocked, “I promise that most of it is probably not true.” He laughs while shaking his head. “It’s all been good, I promise. I’ve also seen a few of your videos. I’, excited to see if I can make you laugh today.”

“I’m excited to see you try.” You say, smiling before everyone gets called into place. Since you’re the special guest, you ae chosen to go first. It’s a smooth and funny filming and Trevor is the last one to go.

He comes out in a girly wig and holding a play camera as vlog camera. He lays on the floor and holds the camera in a familiar position before you spit out your water when he speaks, “Hey, hey, hey, all my panbaes.” It’s the intro you used to use back in the pandemic because you thought it was funny.

You soon understood how cringey it was and changed it but it had become a meme amongst your fans and now will get even more attention thanks to Trevor.

The rest of filming goes well before it’s called a day. Walking over to Trevor, you giggle “You did awesome, I genuinely did not expect that to come up.” He shrugs, trying to play it cool.

“Eh, I thought it would be funny. Do a bit of a throwback.” He says, his cheeks getting red. “So, have you seen more of videos than your letting on?” You ask, suddenly feeling more confident.

“Yeah, I used to watch all the time back when the pandemic was happening. I still keep up but not as much as I used to. I really like your stuff.” You smile and feel your cheeks heat up at his confession.

“Well, I would like to thank you and would also like to ask if you wanna get lunch sometime. Maybe we can discuss some of your past stuff, Mr. Streamer.” He chuckles and nods, “Yeah, yeah I'd like that a lot.”

“Okay, it’s a date then.”

#smosh #smosh cast #smosh games #smosh mouth #smosh pit #smosh x reader #smosh imagine #fanfiction #trevor evarts #trevor evarts x reader

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ink-stains-and-constellations · 6 months ago

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I usually write and post Undertale fanfiction on a different account, but I kept seeing those time-travel The Hobbit fics and I really liked the premise, so I wrote a small bit of one. I have no idea what else to do with it, soooooo here have the random fic I wrote at like 1 AM.

(Quick disclaimer, I'm not actually super well-versed in Middle-Earth lore. I've read and loved The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, but I haven't gotten around to reading The Silmarillion or anything yet. I probably got some stuff wrong in terms of lore, so sorry about that. This was written for fun and I'm not planning on making it into a longer fic, but I thought I'd share it because why not.)

Bilbo was dead.

He knew he was dead. He had died in the Undying Lands, finally succumbing to the age of his body, surrounded by Frodo and Gandalf and the elves as he drifted off into his very last adventure. He had lived a long life. A good life. One with regrets, of course, but also one with much joy and love.

Hobbit-lore had never said much about their afterlife - not like the lore of elves, dwarves, or even men - but Bilbo had always supposed it would be something like this, the comfort of home. For he had found himself back in his hobbit-hole, back in Bag-End, seated at his table with a lovely-looking tea spread out before him.

His aches, his weariness, were gone. His joints and back moved easily, without any pain to speak of. His eyesight was perfectly clear. Even his bald patches had vanished, his head and feet covered once again in thick bushes of curly hair.

"Why, I don't feel a day over fifty," he marvelled under his breath, grinning a little.

Leaving his food on the table, he explored his home, running his fingers along the backs of chairs and rifling through drawers. Most things were exactly as he remembered it - better, even for he had not seen his silver spoons for decades, yet there they were, sitting neatly with the rest of his cutlery. The only objects unaccounted for were the things from his adventure; Sting, the coat of mithril, the chests of gold and silver, and the ring (he caught himself a moment before thinking 'his ring'). But he had given Sting and the coat to Frodo anyway, the ring had been destroyed, and he didn't suppose he would need gold or silver in the afterlife, so he paid it no mind.

He had just sat back down to his tea when the doorbell rang. He was not expecting visitors, of course, as he had only just gotten to this hobbitish afterlife, but he was not nearly as fussy about that sort of thing as he had once been, so he got to his feet and went to greet his guest.

He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it hadn't been a dwarf, and it most certainly hadn't been a very familiar dwarf with a long beard and a dark green hood, worn and stained from travel, his bright eyes glittering from beneath its hem.

The dwarf hopped inside as soon as the door was open, hanging his hooded cloak on one of the pegs, then sweeping into a low bow. "Dwalin at your service!"

Bilbo was frozen, one hand still on the polished brass doorknob, staring at his old friend, who now looked decades younger and was wearing the same clothes he had been the first time they had met.

"Dwalin?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" Even if the dwarf was dead too, he surely wouldn't be here, wherever here was.

Dwalin frowned slightly. "I am here for the meeting, of course."

"Meeting?" he echoed, mystified.

"Yes, the meeting." Dwalin gave him an odd look, as if he should have already known. "And, er, whose service do I have the pleasure of being at?"

Bilbo blinked. "What?"

"Your name," Dwalin elaborated.

After a moment of mutually puzzled silence, Bilbo took a closer look at Dwalin. The clothes. The appearance. The expression, politely confused. Asking for his name.

I don't feel a day over fifty.

He swallowed. "I - Bilbo." Slowly, he bowed. "Mister Bilbo Baggins, at your service." He straightened, gesturing to the hall behind him. "I, uh - I just set out tea. Please, help yourself."

Dwalin nodded, bustling off down the hall. Bilbo did not follow him, but sat down on the ornamental chair by all the hooks and put his head in his hands. This... wasn't possible, was it? He couldn't be back then. He had died, for goodness' sake.

Before he could get very far with his thoughts, the bell rang again. He sprang up, nearly wrenching the door open to reveal an old, red-hooded dwarf, who immediately hopped inside.

"I see they have begun to arrive already," he noted as he hung his hood next to Dwalin's. He then bowed, giving Bilbo an entirely unnecessary introduction.

"Balin, at your service!"

"Bilbo Baggins at yours," Bilbo replied, bowing in return. "Dwalin is inside - please, go join him, I'll bring out more tea. Unless you would prefer a little beer?" he added, remembering his old friend's preferences.

Balin smiled. "Yes, and some seed-cake, if you have any."

"Yes, lots."

Balin set off down the hall to join his brother, and Bilbo went to the pantry to collect the beer and seed-cakes.

Well, that settles it, he thought, a tad grimly. I am back at the very beginning of it all. He wasn't entirely enthusiastic about the prospect, given that he knew what lay ahead, but he resolved to do his very best with this second chance. To make their journey better with his knowledge. Maybe he could even save...

He shook his head and quickly delivered Balin's food and drink, right before the bell rang a third time and he had to rush back to the door.

It was Fili and Kili this time, and Bilbo's heart started aching when he saw them, young and whole and alive, their yellow beards clean of blood and grime, their eyes sparkling and clear.

"Kili at your service!"

"And Fili!"

He took their hoods and bags, setting them carefully to the side, and bowed back, fighting the urge to pull them both into a hug. Somehow, he managed to speak past the lump in his throat. "Bilbo Baggins, at yours and your family's."

"Dwalin and Balin here already, I see," said Kili cheerfully. "Let us join the throng!"

Bilbo nodded and stepped aside to let them pass. He very firmly set aside his grief, his questions, his racing thoughts, and fixed his mind on the task at hand - namely, preparing enough food, drink, and chairs to host a company of fifteen.

While the four dwarves settled in and got to talking, he hurriedly set out more places at the table, then started raiding his pantry, bringing out everything from the wine to the cheese wheels. Halfway through, the bell rang again, and he practically sprinted to the door - in fact, he got there fast enough that Gloin had only just come puffing up to the doorstep.

Introductions were short, and the five newcomers soon joined the others at the table while Bilbo went back to emptying his pantries before they could do it themselves.

He had almost finished when a loud rapping echoed down the hall, the knock of wood against wood. Bilbo sighed heavily, thinking mournfully of the dent in his nice green door that he had never quite gotten around to fixing, and, whisking one last plate of food onto the table, set off to let his guests inside for the fifth and final time that night.

He made sure to open the door very slowly and carefully, so as not to repeat his mistake from all those years ago and end up with a pile of dwarves on his doormat. This time, all four of them hopped inside without incident, and Gandalf ducked through the doorway a moment later.

"Hello, Bilbo," he greeted with a smile. "I hope you do not mind terribly that I brought guests to our tea."

Bilbo sighed again, casting a glance in the direction of his depleted pantries. "Not at all, Gandalf."

"Excellent!" The wizard clapped his hands. "Now, allow me to introduce you to Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!"

There were the usual bows and "At your service"s from Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur, and none at all from Thorin, not that Bilbo had expected any. He gave all four of them a deep bow in return.

"Bilbo Baggins." He glanced up, meeting Thorin's proud gaze and ignoring the pang of grief, an old, old pain that had never really gone away. "At your service."

Thorin merely turned to toss his sky-blue, silver-tasselled hood onto a hook beside the others.

"Now we are all here!" declared Gandalf, hanging his hat at the end of the row of hoods. "Quite a merry gathering. I hope there is something left for the latecomers to eat and drink!"

"Yes, there's plenty," replied Bilbo, gesturing for the group to follow him down the hall.

Gandalf fell into step beside him, peering curiously down at him. He opened his mouth to ask something, but Bilbo quickly interrupted.

"Be careful of the -"

Thunk.

"Rafters," Bilbo finished with yet another sigh, watching Gandalf rub his head.

"A little low, these ceilings," the wizard commented, grimacing.

"Or maybe you're just a little tall!" called a grinning Fili from the dining room. "We seem to be managing just fine."

"Impertinent dwarf," Gandalf grumbled, hunched over to keep from hitting his head again.

Bilbo darted ahead to pull out a chair for Thorin, the grandest chair he could find in his little hobbit-hole. Thorin paused for a moment, then slowly sank into it, nodding his thanks. Bilbo gave him a quick smile and took his own place at the table, which he had made sure to include this time, as he didn't want to miss out on all the food again.

He wasn't much for conversation, as he didn't want to slip up and reveal all the things he knew, but he didn't bother asking if they would stay for supper after the meal was finished. Already knowing the answer, he just made to collect the plates, and didn't protest when the dwarves sprang up to clear them away instead.

The dishes were soon cleaned and put away, and the dwarves came back to find Bilbo watching Thorin and Gandalf blow smoke-rings around the room.

"Now for some music!" Thorin declared as his company filed into the room, snuffing out his pipe and setting it aside. "Bring out the instruments!"

There was a rush for instruments just as Bilbo remembered, and he sat back in his chair to listen to the dwarves' music. It was enthralling as it had been the first time, and he felt as though he was indeed fifty all over again and feeling a great desire for adventure. He found himself humming quietly along to the familiar tune.

It eventually stopped, of course, once dark had fallen, and Thorin stood to begin his speech.

"Gandalf, dwarves, and Mister Baggins! We are met together in the house of our friend and fellow conspirator, this most excellent and audacious hobbit - may the hair on his toes never fall out! All praise to his wine and ale!"

The ache in Bilbo's heart increased upon hearing his friend's typically long-winded beginning, and he barely managed to reply, "You are very kind." His voice came out with a funny choked quality to it, as if he was about to cry. Which was, of course, absurd, he thought as he blinked furiously against his burning eyes.

Thorin stopped, staring at Bilbo, his brow furrowed. "Is something the matter, Mister Baggins?"

Bilbo quickly shook his head, scrubbing away the tears that were leaking down his cheeks. "Nothing at all, Thorin," he whispered, unable to help the familiarity that slipped out with his friend's first name. "And, uh -" He cleared his throat, speaking a little louder. "Please, call me Bilbo, all of you. It seems appropriate if we're to - uh, work together."

Slowly, Thorin nodded, although he did not continue with his speech. He just... stared at Bilbo, a puzzled divot between his heavy brows, until Bilbo shifted uncomfortably, worried that he had made a mistake.

"Tell me, Mister Baggi - Bilbo," said Thorin suddenly. "Do you have much experience in the matter of burglary?"

Bilbo felt his lips twist into a humourless smile as images flashed in his mind. A golden cup. A large gemstone that could be called white, if you ascribed the same colour to the stars themselves. Before that, a set of keys, countless morsels of food, even the very dwarves who now sat in his dining room. All done while invisible, of course, but perhaps this time he could be a burglar before he found the ring as well as afterwards. (He was a little reluctant to take possession of the ring again now that he knew what it was, but he also knew that it had been an invaluable asset on their journey, and besides if he hadn't found it, it wouldn't have been destroyed, so he resolved to pick it up again as he had before.)

"Yes. Quite a bit, in fact."

A murmur of surprise went around the room. Even Gandalf's bushy eyebrows raised, although he stayed silent, still puffing on his pipe.

"How about travel?" Thorin asked, evidently set on grilling him now. "Fighting? Sword or axe, what's your weapon of choice?"

Bilbo sighed yet again. "I'm rather skilled at darts, if you must know, and I quite enjoy a good hike now and then," he answered, voice dripping with sarcasm that he never would have dared back at the beginning, but he was rather used to being treated with the indulgence afforded to eccentric elderly folk, so he didn't think much of it at all until Thorin snorted and he realised that the dwarf had taken his words seriously.

Another outbreak of muttering spread throughout the room, and amidst all the questions about his sincerity, he caught the fated words, murmured by Gloin to Oin.

"He looks more like a grocer than a burglar."

Bilbo's teeth gritted, and he addressed Thorin again, discarding the sarcasm this time. "In all seriousness, I favour a sword, although seeing how I am not currently in possession of one, the question seems moot."

Thorin looked him up and down, as if trying and failing to imagine him using a sword. "I see."

Electing to ignore the dwarves' doubt, Bilbo stood, heading towards the hallway. "If you'll excuse me for a moment, I am going to -" His toes snagged on something, perhaps a hole in the carpet, and he stumbled, a hand darting out to steady himself upon Gandalf, who happened to be the nearest solid object.

"Oh, terribly sorry, Gandalf," apologised Bilbo, looking quite a bit less flustered than one might expect. "As I was saying, I am going to fetch a light. I will return in a moment."

"Excellent idea," replied Gandalf, peering down at Bilbo. The dwarves may not have found his stumble suspicious, but the wizard was well aware of the surefootedness of hobbits and suspected Bilbo to be up to something, which, of course, he was.

At fifty, Bilbo Baggins had been polite to a fault and wholly inexperienced in theft. However, having lived over a hundred and thirty years before his death, he now considered himself a fairly seasoned burglar and quite disliked being doubted or mocked. So when he saw the opportunity to prove himself, he took it, and by the time he returned with a lamp, Gandalf was rifling through his pockets in search of a map he was certain he had had on his person.

Bilbo placed the lamp on the table and tilted his head curiously at the wizard, struggling to conceal a grin. "Is there something wrong, Gandalf?"

Gandalf's shrewd eyes snapped to him, and he gazed intently for a moment or two before explaining, "I seem to have lost a rather important map. You wouldn't happen to have any idea of its whereabouts, would you?"

"Not the foggiest clue," Bilbo replied, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Oh - wait, what is this?" With a - perhaps unnecessary - theatrical flourish, he withdrew the map from his waistcoat, holding it up. "Well, it appears it's right here in my pocket. How odd." He dropped it onto the table in front of Gandalf, his grin breaking through his attempted poker face.

Gandalf stared at the map for a few seconds, then chuckled loudly and suddenly, patting Bilbo on the back. "Very impressive, my friend."

Bilbo laughed and went to sit back down, not noticing the suspicious look Gandalf shot him behind his back.

"Now, then," the wizard began, spreading the map out on the table. "This was made by Thror, your grandfather, Thorin. It is a plan of the Mountain."

Thorin glanced at it, then shook his head, disappointed. "I don't see how this will help us much. I remember the Mountain well enough, and the lands about it. And I know where Mirkwood is, and the Withered Heath where the great dragons bred."

"There is a dragon marked in red on the Mountain," put in Balin. "But it will be easy enough to find him without that, if ever we arrive there."

"Unfortunately so," Bilbo murmured to himself, his shoulders curling a little inwards.

"There is one thing you haven't noticed, and that is the secret entrance," pointed out Gandalf. "You see that rune on the west side, and the hand pointing to it from the other runes? That marks a hidden passage to the Lower Halls."

"It may have been secret once," Thorin countered, "but how do we know it remains so? Old Smaug has lived there long enough now to find out anything there is to know about those caves."

"He may, but he can't have ever used it. It is far too small for him - 'five feet high the door and three may walk abreast' say the runes, and Smaug couldn't have crept into a hole that size even when he was a young dragon, let alone now, after devouring so many of the dwarves and the men of Dale. In any case, the door should be closed and hidden, made to look exactly like the side of the mountain, and therefore kept secret from the rest of the world, if not from Smaug."

Bilbo leant closer to get a proper look at the map, which he had not seen for decades. The Mountain drawn in dark ink on the paper seemed a lot smaller than the Mountain of his memories.

"Also," Gandalf went on, "I forgot to mention that with the map came a key, a small and curious key. Here it is!" He presented it to Thorin, a key with a long barrel and intricate wards, flashing silver in the lamplight. "Keep it safe!"

"Indeed I will," replied Thorin, taking the key and fastening it upon the fine gold chain that hung around his neck. "Now things begin to look more hopeful. This news alters them much for the better. So far we have had no clear idea of what to do. We thought of going east, as quiet and careful as we could, as far as the Long Lake -"

Bilbo had heard Thorin's ramblings before, of course, and if this was an ordinary meeting with friends, he would have tuned him out. However, he was acutely aware of just how precious his time here was - every second with Thorin and Fili and Kili alive, every second with the others smiling and in good cheer, every second unburdened by deep, heavy grief - so he listened quietly to the voice he'd spent so many years missing.

"- but we none of us liked the idea of the Front Gate. The river runs right out of it through the great cliff at the south of the Mountain, and out of it comes the dragon too - far too often, unless he has changed his habits."

"That would be no good," added Gandalf. "Not without a mighty warrior, even a hero. I tried to find one, but warriors are busy fighting one another in distant lands, and in this neighbourhood, heroes are scarce, or simply not to be found. Swords in these parts are mostly blunt, axes are used for trees, and shields as cradles or dish-covers; dragons are comfortably far-off, and therefore legendary. That is why I settled on burglary - especially when I remembered the existence of a side-door. And here is our little Bilbo Baggins, the burglar, the chosen and selected burglar. So now let's get on and make some plans."

"Very well, then," agreed Thorin. "Supposing the burglar gives us some ideas or suggestions." He turned to Bilbo with mock politeness, although it was a bit less mocking than it had been the first time around.

Bilbo drew himself up, meeting Thorin's gaze with a determined look. He was the only one there who knew what was in store, and over the course of the night, he had come to the decision that he meant to bring them all through the journey and out the other side alive and more or less intact, if at all possible. "Certainly, Thorin," he answered briskly. "I should think that we ought to focus on actually getting there and finding the side-door before we worry about dealing with much else. I take it there is quite a lot of treasure?" he added, although he already knew.

Thorin nodded. "Yes, halls upon halls of it."

"It will be impossible for me to move it all by myself. I will be able to perhaps steal one or two pieces before the dragon notices us, so I would suggest you give some thought as to which pieces you should like." A large white gem glimmered in his mind again before he pushed the image away and forged on, ignoring the echoes of dread. "I would also suggest -" His voice trembled, and he cleared his throat, trying to keep his words steady. "I would also suggest that we take a moment to consider the possibility of things such as dragon-sickness, and how it may be overcome once the Mountain is in our possession."

"Sage advice," said Gandalf approvingly, filing away his suspicion to deal with later and patting Bilbo on the shoulder.

Bilbo threw him a quick smile, though he was unable to hide the hint of tiredness to it. He found that he didn't particularly want to speak of their journey anymore, not with the knowledge of what was to come weighing on him, heavy as a sack of dragon-guarded gold.

"And, well, don't you know, I think we have talked long enough for one night, if you see what I mean. What about bed, and an early start, and all that? I would appreciate some help with breakfast tomorrow, if anyone would be so kind."

"You're the host, are you not?" replied Thorin, raising a dark, heavy brow. "But I agree about bed and breakfast. I like six eggs with my ham when starting on a journey - fried, not poached, and mind you don't break 'em."

Bilbo crossed his arms, staring at the dwarf expectantly, until Thorin reluctantly added, "Please."

Bilbo nodded and grabbed a small notebook that had been laying on the mantlepiece, quickly jotting down Thorin's preferred breakfast. "Anyone else?"

The dwarves and Gandalf all ordered their breakfasts, and Bilbo managed to get a 'please' from every one of them. Afterwards, he had to find places for all of them to sleep, which was thankfully a much shorter affair than last time, as he had his previous experiences to go by. He did have to dig extra blankets out of the linen cupboard, and set several dwarves and Gandalf (who was much too tall for his spare beds) up on couches and chairs, but he eventually got them all stowed away and retired to his own little bed. The shock of finding himself back in the past, along with having to host thirteen dwarves and a wizard, had left him rather exhausted, despite the renewed strength of his younger body. Before he collapsed into bed, he remembered to leave a sliver of his curtains unclosed, so that he would be awoken by the rays of dawn.

He fell asleep to the sound of Thorin's humming from the bedroom next to his, and this time, it was comforting.

The Hobbit was created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

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loilooloo · 1 year ago

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okay😭😭 can you do a tom x reader where tom, bill, y/n,gustav, and georg are at a friends party. y/n and bill are hanging out with each other, drinking and telling each other jokes yk, then tom notices and gets jealous? thinking him and y/n are “flirting”.

also i love your writing 😭

T. KAULITZ x READER

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: you having fun at a party until a certain someone gets jealous

★ 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: mentions of alcohol, cigarettes/smoking

★ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: thanks for the request!

your friend mila was hosting a party and all your mutual friends were invited. you didn’t know who exactly was going to be there but you knew you would see some familiar faces. you were running errands before mila called you, “can you come help set up the party tonight with me?” she asked. “sure! i’m actually out right now, do you need me to pick up anything?” you asked. “some drinks would be nice,” she said. so you were know at the liquor store, putting whatever you could find in your basket before heading over to mila’s place.

when you finally got there he place was a mess. “what happened here?” you asked, slighting shocked to see the dirty apartment. “i haven’t gotten around to cleaning, can you help me?” she asked. you sighed and started picking trash up from the floor. an hour later her house was now clean and it was time to set up the party. you laid out all the drinks and made sure there were enough cups. “you should probably put all your valuable things away,” you suggested to mila. you and mila finished setting up the beer pong table before the guests arrived. the first to show up were your friends terry and angela.

then followed a lot more guests before finally tokio hotel arrived. you didn’t know that they were coming and you started freaking out since you had a massive crush on tom and you didn’t look the best at the moment. “mila why didn’t you tell me they were coming?” you asked frantically combing your hair. “uhm can i change into one of your dresses?” you asked looking down at your casual jeans and a t-shirt. “yeah sure you know where my room is,” mila said before going over to some of her friends.

you walked into her room and closed the door. the music was muffled now which gave you a clearer headspace to think with. you looked at all of her dresses and chose a tight and short black dress. you quickly changed and hurried back to the party. “damn you look good,” mila said. you guys laughed together and went to go get drinks. “let’s go over to the couches,” you said after you both got your drinks. when you got to the couches. you saw bill and tan over to him, sitting down on the seat next to his. “hey bill!” you said enthusiastically since you we’re happy to see him. “where are the others?” you asked. “oh there somewhere, i know tom’s over there though,” he said pointing to the kitchen. you blushed at the sight of tom and immediately turned away when you guys made eye contact.

you and bill started talking and making jokes and as the two of you did you felt eyes on you. it was a really creepy feeling so you suggested you guys love some where else. “do you want to go play beer pong?” you asked bill, he nodded and you guys started walking. you looked around and realized that the started were from tom and you wondered what was up with him since he looked, mad? a few games of beer pong later, you and bill were now incredibly drunk. the two of you decided to go out on the rooftop for some cigarettes. when you two got up there you realized that neither of you had a lighter so bill went down to go find one.

a few minutes after bill left tom approached you and you were very nervous. your face turned slightly red as he started speaking. “do you like bill?” he asked bluntly. you were now shocked because you obviously had a crush on him. “what? bill? what are you talking about?” you asked in confusion. “i saw the way you guys were talking, you were totally flirting with him” he said. “i was just joking with, bill’s my friend,” you said chuckling. “sure,” tom said as he looked away.

“why do you even care?” you asked tom. he was shocked by the question and didn’t answer. “are you jealous or something?” you asked while laughing. “of course i’m not,” he said. tom was a bad liar and you could obviously tell by his tone and body language that he was hiding something. “i like you tom, not bill,” you drunkenly confessed. tom was speechless, “you’re drunk ______.” he said. “i’m not, i swear. i’ve liked you since we first met,” you said while laughing before going back inside to go find bill, leaving tom standing there in shock. he didn’t quite believe since first of all, you were drunk and second of all, you said it so calmly and suddenly. the next morning you woke up to mila cleaning and vacuuming. “finally cleaning?” you asked while laughing. your head hurt a lot and you had no memory of yesterday.

“ugh do you remember what happened yesterday?” you asked mila, getting up to go get a glass of water. “well i had that party and apparently you confessed to tom,” she said with a chuckle. you were silent, “what? i did what to tom?” you asked in shock. “oh my god, no,” you said as you frantically searched for your phone. you finally remembered last night on the roof top and your face turned red. “who else knows?” you asked mila. “just me and tom i guess, you were bragging to me all night,” she said.

“ughhh stop,” you said putting to hands over your face. “oh by the way they’re coming over in a few minutes,” mila said. “what?? why?” you asked. “breakfast,” mila said with a smile. you knew that she had invited them on purpose and immediately got up to go get changed. “i can’t believe you,” you said before storing off to the bathroom. a few minutes later they showed up, you were still in the bathroom even though you were finished changing. you just wanted to avoid tom at all costs because you didn’t know what to say to him. in the end, you decided to just apologize and use your drunkenness as an excuse.

you walked out of the bathroom and to the kitchen. “hey guys,” you said awkwardly before taking a seat next to mila. “look, tom whatever i said to you last night, i was drunk and i’m sorry,” you said as everyone except mila and tom. tom smirked at you before replying. “apologize for saying what?” he asked, obviously acting dumb. “you know, what i said on the roof yesterday,” you explained. “i don’t think i know,” he said with a big smile mastered on his face. “when i confessed to you last night,” you screamed, frustrated now.

everyone looked shocked as the room became silent. “i’m sorry,” you said before running back to the bathroom. “what’s wrong with you?” you heard jolie ask tom from a distance. seconds later you heard someone at the door, it was tom. “can i come in?” he asked. “no,” you replied. you heard him sigh and he opened the door. “______, i was just joking,” he said. “let’s just forget about,” you said. “i like you too,” he said laughing. “what?” you asked, shocked to hear what he had just said. “i said i like you too,” he said again but a little louder. “whatever,” you said before smirking and pulling him in for a kiss.

#no proofreading we die like men #2000s #tokio hotel #tokio hotel fanfic #tokio hotel x reader #fan fiction #2000s music #2000s fashion #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz x reader

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shinsorokiri · 2 years ago

Text

The Rockstar and The Farmer

Sam x Reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: language, spoilers for Jodi’s heart event, mutual pining, Sam being chaotically smooth

A/N: Yes I’m aware I said I’d hopefully have part two up by the end of the week, yes I am aware it is like three weeks later, everybody makes mistakes and I make big ones frequently. Part 3 will be out eventually, I promise. That being said, enjoy this very late posting of part 2! :)

part [1] 2 [3?]

“Seb, Abigail, and I are gonna unload our gear, so I’ll see you in like… an hour? Or so?” You nod. “Yeah, see you then,” you say, getting up and off the bus.

You walk back to your farm, being welcomed by your animals almost immediately. You go check up on them and make sure they’re all happy and okay before going inside your house to grab the fish you put on ice for Jodi. You check the clock and see that it took you a decent amount of time to check your animals and decide to start walking over now. You take your time, taking the scenic route and waving to Leah as you pass by her home. You check your watch, making sure

You knock on the door before letting yourself in. “Jodi?” you call out, and she dashes out from the kitchen. “Ah, I’m so glad you came, (Y/n)! And you brought the fish! Wonderful,” she exclaims, and you hurry over to her, handing her the fish. You begin to take it out of the cooler you brought it in while Jodi turns slightly towards the hallway that leads to her two sons’ rooms. “Sam! Could you come in here and help clean this fish?” You hear a pause before Sam’s voice responds, quieter than usual but loud enough for his mom to hear, though you don’t know if she picks up on the subtle annoyance in his tone. “Yes, ma’am.” You hear footsteps and the familiar creak of his bedroom door opening while you take the fish out of the cooler and hold it in your hands, presenting it to Jodi. “Wow, it looks wonderful… and it smells so fresh!” she takes it out of your hands and into hers before smiling at you, “Thanks so much for doing this, (Y/n).”

“No problem, I can help you with cleaning the fish, too, if you’d like,” you offer, and Sam’s eyes light up. “Yes!”

“No!” Jodi and Sam look at each other, and she sighs. “Sam… (Y/n) is our guest, we can’t make them help clean the food they came here to eat.” Sam frowns, disappointed that he’s going to have to gut and clean this fish with his mom instead of his crush best friend. You feel a tinge of disappointment as well, and before you even process, you’re speaking, you blurt out, “Oh no it’s fine! You were kind enough to invite me tonight so the least I can do is help you prepare the meal! Besides, I’ve gotten pretty good at gutting fish, I bet I could teach Sam here a thing or two.” Sam raises his eyebrow at you, obviously amused. “Who said I need someone to teach me?”

“Me, Sam. I know you, and you always need someone to teach you,” you tease, and he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face gives him away. Jodi watches, her own smile spreading when she seemingly changes her mind. “Oh, fine. You two clean the fish, and I’ll get some sides and all the other ingredients ready, okay?”

“Okay, Jodi,” you say, as Sam takes this fish from his mom, and you follow him into the kitchen. “I have been gutting fish ever since we moved here, farmer, let me show you a thing or two,” he brags and you giggle, rolling your eyes. “Please, Sam. Show me everything I already know.”

“Hey now, did you know that you can do this?” Sam begins to cut into the fish when the knife slips and falls to the floor. You both jump out of the way, and Sam quickly wraps his arms around you, pulling you back to make sure you’d stay safe. You ignore the fuzzy feeling that spreads through your chest and giggle. “No, Sam, I actually didn’t know I could gut the floor while simultaneously gutting a fish,” you joke, and his face turns bright red. “My hands got all slimy from the fish!”

“Yeah. Mhm, okay,” you laugh, bending over to pick up the knife and walking over to the sink to wash it off. “I’m being serious I am so good at gutting these guys,” he whines as you walk over to him and the fish, drying the knife off. You grin at him. “I believe you, but… maybe I should hold the knife,” you tease, standing in front of the fish and getting ready to cut into it. He sighs. “Fine, but I can still show you my tips and tricks… here,” he says, wrapping his arms around you from the back and holding onto your hand with his. You’re grateful that you’re facing the opposite way from him so he can’t see your dopy grin, but Jodi sees it. You and Sam interacting had always put a smile on her face, but especially now. She was excited to see what might come from all this subtle flirting going on between the two of you. And she’d be lying if she said she didn’t find herself encouraging this subtle flirting. She never thought she’d enjoy watching her son gut a fish this much.

With your help, you and Sam managed to gut the largemouth bass in record time, and Jodi shooed the two of you out of the kitchen so she could cook. “Come on, I have a new song idea and want you to hear it, we should have enough time until the casserole is ready,” Sam says, grabbing your hand and pulling you to his room. You feel your face heat up as Sam’s hand effortlessly intertwines with yours, and smile because you’re about to hear a new Sam original. “Can’t wait to hear Goblin Destroyer perform this one at their next show, you grin, and he chuckles a bit. He let’s go of your hand and scratches his neck. “Well, actually, this is more of a song for me…” he lets you know, quickly turning around and inaudibly mumbling, “and someone else…” You take your seat on his bed, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your face on your knees. You grin at him as he picks up his guitar and turns to you. He begins to strum his guitar and opens his mouth, getting ready to sing, when suddenly there’s a knock at his door. A tiny little knock. You and Sam glance at each other and he smiles apologetically. “Looks like I’ll have to show you the song after dinner, then,” he places the guitar back on it’s stand and opens the door. “(Y/N)!” Vince yells, running in and hopping up onto Sam’s bed and giving you a hug. You laugh and hug him back. “Hi, Vince!”

Sam stands by his door, leaning against the wall, observing the way you interact with his younger brother. He grins softly. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t warm his heart to know that Vincent loved you almost as much as him. Almost. He realizes that his eyes go from focusing on you and Vince to just you. He’d been trying to make more subtle moves to hint at his interest in you recently, and he’s really hoping that you’ve been picking up on it. But for some reason, it’s getting increasingly harder for him to not just straight up confess to you. In fact, he has a letter telling you to meet him at 8 in front of his house all written up and in his jeans pocket right now. Of course, he’s nervous about how you’ll react, but he really just wants to be able to wrap his arms around you all the time and keep you close to him. He wants to be able to refer to you as his partner with Sam and Abigail and actually mean it. He wants the rest of the people in Pelican Town to know that the farmer who moved here is a part of the community just as much as he is. He just wants you—

“Why are you staring at us like that?” Vince's little voice pulls Sam out of his trance and his eyes widen. “I wasn’t staring.”

“Yes, you were.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“Was no—”

“OKAY! DINNER’S READY EVERYONE!” Jodi yells, cutting the brothers off. You chuckle, watching Vince immediately run out to get food. You look over at Sam, whose face is still red, by the way, and get up off his bed. You walk over to him and tug on the sleeve of his jean jacket. “Come on, rockstar. Let’s go eat.” He grins slightly and follows you out to eh kitchen, sitting next to you. Dinner tastes great, you immediately start asking Jodi a ton of questions about the recipe, which she happily answers and agrees to write it down for you. You already have your mind swimming with ideas to add ingredients that might add more flavor or give the dish a new spin. You almost feel like a part of the family. It ends too soon, though, and before you know it, you’re yawning up a storm. “Oh, (Y/n), you must be tired. You did a lot of running around today,” Jodi mentions, and you wave your hand, shaking your head. “I’m fine, I promise, but it is about time I should head out. I need to go make sure all the animals are all snug and safe,” you say, standing up. “Let me help you clean the table first,” you say, starting to grab your plates. “No, don’t be silly! I can handle that. Sam, why don’t you walk (Y/n) home?” Jodi suggests and Vince jumps up. “Can I go?!”

“No, Vinny, you’re staying here. It’s nearly your bedtime,” Jodi says, and Vince whines. You give him a goodbye hug and make your way to the front door, putting your shoes on. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Thank you so much for the delicious meal!” you yell as you walk out of the house, Sam closing the door behind the two of you. Although it’s summer, it’s a very chilly night. And silly you, you left our jacket at your farm. You shiver slightly, and Sam notices. “Here,” he shrugs his jean jacket off, wrapping it around your shoulders. “Oh, no, Sam I’ll be fine—”

“No, no, no, you’re cold, you’re wearing it,” he insists, and you smile softly to yourself. “Thanks.”

“No problem, (Y/n/n).” The two of you walk past Marnie’s ranch, and you watch as fireflies light up the night. “Today was fun,” you say, and Sam nods. “So fun. Thanks again for coming to my show… and for coming to dinner… and helping me gut that fish and not my foot,” he says, causing you to giggle. “Of course. You know I’ll always be at your gigs. Oh! Speaking of you didn’t play me that song!” you exclaim, halting and turning to him. He lets out a small laugh. “That’s okay. I’ll show you another time. You wake up at like 5 in the morning and it’s almost 10:30. I’d rather get you home and in bed,” he says, grabbing your arm and pulling you to walk again. “Aw, so thoughtful,” you tease, before yawning again. “Mhm, and you said you weren’t tired.”

“I’m just used to being tired, comes with the farm.”

“Maybe you should sleep in a little later? Take a nap during the day?”

“Can’t,” you shake your head, “if I’m not caring for the animals, I’m planting crops, and if I’m not planting crops, I’m in the mines, and if I’m not in the mines, I’m fishing, and if I’m not fishing—”

“You’re taking care of the animals… I know. I guess I just worry about you sometimes. You do a lot, you deserve a break,” he shrugs, and you sheepishly grin, looking down at your feet. He’s right, you do overexert yourself. But you have to fix up the Community Center before that idiot Lewis sells it to Joja. You know you have to move quick. “Well once I have the best farm in Pelican Town, I’ll rest,” you say, and Sam rolls his eyes. “(Y/n/n), you already have the best farm in Pelican Town. You’re the farm of Pelican Town,” he says, and you shrug. “Can always be better.”

“I swear one of these days I’m gonna force you to lay down and do nothing all day long. Mark my words.”

“Words marked. I’d like to see you try though,” you say, and he scoffs. “Oh, I won’t just try, I will succeed.” You giggle as you walk onto your land, passing by the little pond by your coop. “Mr. Quackers, if you don’t get inside the coop and stop swimming around so help me Yoba, I will only let you swim in a bucket,” you shout out to your duck, who quacks at you, but seemingly understands the threat. Sam laughs as he waddles into the coop, and you close the door that lets the birds out. None of your babies are getting eaten by anything tonight. Or ever, for that matter. “Mr. Quackers?”

“Yeah. He also responds shockingly well to just Quack. He knows I’m serious when I call him his legal name though,” you grin, and Sam shakes his head. “I can’t believe he actually listened to you.”

“I just have a way with my animals,” you brag, shutting the open barn door after seeing all your animals are safe and sound inside. You glance to where your stable is and see your horse asleep with your dog asleep next to her. “Well, looks like all my animals are accounted for. Thank you for walking me home, Sam,” you grin at him as you get to the front door of your little farmhouse. He grins back. “No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, for sure… oh wait! Your jacket!” you start to shrug it off as he begins walking away. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow anyway. ‘Sides, it looks better on you,” he says, turning around and shooting a wink at you. You feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, and heat start spreading through your face all the way up to your ears. “I’ll get it to you tomorrow!”

“Or you can hold onto it for a bit, really, I don’t mind,” he insists, and you shake your head. But there’s no hiding the smile that breaks out across your face. “G’night, farmer!”

“Goodnight, rockstar,” you say, waving at him as he turns and begins walking home. You walk inside your home, your dog rushing past you when he hears the creaking of your door. You grin and lock your door for the night, slipping your shoes off. You’re about to take Sam’s jacket off when you stop. Maybe you’ll wear this to sleep in tonight. Just because you might as well get as much use out of it before returning it to him. Obviously. That’s a good reason to sleep in it. You change into your pajamas, before slipping the jacket back on and getting under your covers. You breathe in Sam’s cologne, noticing it’s more comforting than it usually is right now, and start drifting off. You don’t even hear your mailbox opening or notice your pup staring at the window for a moment before lying his head back down and falling asleep curled next to you. You fall asleep, with only one thought in your head.

‘See you tomorrow, rockstar.’

#stardew valley x reader #sdv x reader #stardew valley sam x reader #sdv sam x reader #stardew sam x reader #stardew valley sam #sdv sam #stardew sam

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pjisskullourful · 6 months ago

Text

𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚝𝚑

🦋Thomas × reader

NSFW 🚨 nasty explicit filthy playtime for adults

° Thomas Raggi/female reader insert

° they say sex ruins a friendship, thats why you've been avoiding your friend Thomas, waiting for this phase of being attracted to him to pass. is it truly just a phase?

wordcount::: 5,753

° inspired by a spicy audio

° [ITA:] principessa: princess

AKA thomas is besties w your brother& you thinks hes so fine -- AKA friends to loverrs -- AKA mutually secretly pining for eachother -- AKA thomas: *exists* - y/n: why does he have to be so hot around me?!

“So I’m not the last one awake.”

You looked up to find that Thomas was nudging your bedroom door further open. Your older brother’s best friend, you had expected that he would be passed out, along with the other guys that had come to your apartment for a place to crash after drinking the night away at their favourite bar.

Your brother, Ben was a great roommate - he was never late with paying his share of the bills and any disagreements that came up between the two of you were easily settled.

He always let you know when he was expecting guests, so you had known that some of his friends would be spending the night. It wasn’t a big deal, this had happened a few times before.

But you had been hoping to avoid spending any time alone with Thomas - a goal that you had been holding onto for the past two months. And you thought that you had succeeded. He had been out of sight and out of mind for you as you laid in your bed, lazily scrolling through the offerings on your Reddit homepage, planning to be asleep at any minute.

It hadn’t always been this way between the two of you. In the two years that you had known him, you had come to view him as a friend. He shared your love of The Simpsons, he was a worthy opponent in your favourite video games and he got your sense of humour. Typically, it wasn’t difficult to strike up a conversation with him. The two of you even shared a few inside jokes.

But right now you didn’t want to share a single thing with the guitarist. It was hard to not be annoyed at him for invading your calm, controllable solitude. And you were mentally cursing yourself for not shutting your door all the way.

“How come you’re still awake, principessa?” He asked, taking one step over the threshold and into your room. “It must be past your bedtime.”

You worked to keep your eyes on the screen of your phone, it didn’t matter that you weren’t finding anything interesting to read. “I can’t sleep.”

“Ah, and scrolling on your phone will definitely help that.” He said sarcastically.

“I would have guessed that you’d be a zombie just like the others.” You said.

“Designated driver.” He said.

“And now you’re the designated lurker in my bedroom.”

“First of all, I’m not in your room, I’m in the doorway.” He said. “And second of all, I’m not lurking. Your light got my attention when I was coming back from the bathroom, so I figured I’d say hey. It was pretty stupid of me to forget that you don’t say hey anymore, not since you started to hate me.”

This succeeded in tearing your eyes off of your phone, looking at the familiar blonde, as unfamiliar feelings rose up in you. “I don’t hate you.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. So how come this is the most that you’ve said to me for the past two months?”

You sat up a little, unsure of how to answer this. There were so many things in your head and you were only willing to share a fraction of this with him. But you didn’t really know where to start. “Believe me, it’s not that I hate you- oh, at all.”

He took another step into the room. “Alright, hate was too strong of a word. But clearly you don’t like me very much, not like you used to. You’ve put all this distance between us. Do you remember how close we used to be, like literally close?”

This evoked vivid memories - hours spent on the couch together playing video games, usually as part of a group, but sometimes just the two of you. You would sit side-by-side, your leg pressed to his. More than once you had even sat in his lap, refusing to let him sit on the cold tiled floor when no other places were available. Then you had had Mario Kart or Super Smash Brothers to distract you.

But now you were without the luxury of a single distraction. You met his gaze, feeling less annoyed as more time passed.

“Did I do something?” He asked. “Because if I did something to piss you off, I’d really like it if you would let me apologise. I wanna get back to us being friends. Nobody gets my references the way you do.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He furrowed his brow. “So you just picked up this attitude towards me ‘cause you were bored, or something? I think that makes it worse.”

“I do not have an attitude with you.”

He laughed dryly. “Yes, you do. Come on principessa, just admit it. The only thing that hasn’t changed is the way that you check me out.”

You tried to keep your voice as firm as possible. “I do not check you out.”

He was smirking as he shook his head. “Deny one more thing, I fucking dare you.”

“Thomas…” You said, attempting to reclaim even a shred of authority in this situation.

“Keep your voice down. Jeez, do you wanna wake the whole building up?” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, but inside you were cringing. You had always tried to keep your curious glances of him subtle, you only looked when you thought the coast was clear.

It’s not like you wanted to look, you weren’t actively trying to get drawn in by him. But those speedos that he wore to the beach left very little to the imagination, it was the kind of thing you couldn’t help noticing.

“If you don’t check me out on the regular, then why are you blushing so much?” He asked.

You didn’t have any defence to that, you were too intimidated to think of a sassy comeback. You looked down at your inactive phone as he took another step into your room. Silently, he closed the door behind himself.

“You shouldn’t be embarrassed over checking me out. Because the only reason that I’ve noticed is because I’m so often checking you out.” He said and you raised your head a little. “What can I say? I’m a big fan of how you look in yoga pants.”

Now you were blushing even more - why hadn’t you ever recognised this? The thoughts that you knew you shouldn’t be thinking were gaining more power.

You could have brushed this comment off by calling him a pervert and turning the teasing around on him. But instead you were feeding those thoughts. Thoughts you typically entertained during these early hours of the morning.

“So, who’s gonna say it first?” He asked and you lifted your eyes to look at him. But you were too out of your depth to feel like you could speak. “You have a crush on me.”

You didn’t nod your head, nor did you deny his statement.

Instead you were thinking back to how it had started - a little over two months ago, at a Måneskin show. It hadn’t been your first time seeing him perform with his band. But it had been the first time of taking along your best friend, Domenica. During one of his guitar solos, he had come to the front of the stage, towards where you had been standing in the crowd. This had prompted Domenica to lean in, speaking into your ear.

‘Is he single?’ She had asked, thoroughly surprising you. ‘He’s not really my type, but just imagine what else he could do with those fingers…’

You hadn’t made that connection before. You knew he was a ridiculously talented guitarist, but you had never just watched how his fingers worked. At times almost too quick to keep up with, confident and powerful, hitting one flawless note after another without any hesitation.

It was seriously impressive. And, thanks to Domenica’s new insights, it was also seriously arousing.

She had taken the thoughts that you held of this man that you knew so well, and shifted it all. You had always known that Thomas was attractive, cute in his uniqueness. But now you had been forced to face the fact that you were attracted to him.

It had changed too much for you. And you hadn’t known how to act normally around him with all of this new clutter in your head. So you had made excuses, retreating as you hoped for this phase to pass.

But now everything was coming to light and you had no chance of retreating.

He was smiling, a look you were so familiar with. “I’m not used to this whole shy girl thing from you, it’s cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” You asked.

“Yeah, I have functioning eyes, don’t I?” He said, coming right over to your bed. “Can I sit down here?”

There was a desk chair that he could take up, or he could sit on the floor rug.

But you were quite taken with the idea of having him closer than that.

“I should’ve said something sooner, I never wanted you to think that I hated you, ‘cause I never did.” You said as he sat down towards the end of the bed. “If I had known that’s what you were thinking, I would’ve… But I didn’t know how to say it and I was scared of everything changing, so I just tried to deal… I should’ve said something.”

One of his hands was resting on top of the covers and you couldn’t help noticing that it was within your reach. It would be different to any of the other times you had casually grabbed his hand. It might lead to more.

“I’ve been wishing for you to say something, principessa.” He said. “Not because I was thinking that you hated me- although that definitely sucked. But because it was wasting our time. Do you know what we could have been doing in that time?”

You smiled as you watched him leaning in closer. “What?”

He raised his hand, applying it to your cheek, where his fingers stroked across your heated skin. “I’m sure you can use your imagination…”

He came in even closer, his hazel eyes moving down to your lips. You could smell the cigarettes on his breath as you tilted your head to the side. There was a feeling of warmth in your gut as you moved in closer as well.

When your lips met it was an instant rush of relief. Everything you had been trying to hold back and keep secret was now allowed to flow freely.

Everything that you had been feeling now made sense and you confidently moved with him to deepen the kiss. There weren't any awkward hesitations, it was all smooth movements as your lips got acquainted with his. You rested your hand on his knee, letting out a dreamy sigh when you felt his tongue caressing your lower lip. You eased your mouth open for him as his fingers continued to tenderly stroke your cheek.

Your heart was racing and you yearned for more when he gently broke the kiss. You rested your forehead to his, continuing to enjoy the warmth of having him so close.

“All this time, we could have been more.” He whispered. “Do you have any idea how many nights I wanted to sneak in here and have my way with you?”

“As many nights as me.” You said.

He had begun to stroke your arm. “More.”

“It’s not a competition.” You corrected him with a smile.

“Can I show you how much I’ve wanted this?”

You weren’t sure what he was going to say or do next. But you were looking into the face of a man that you trusted (a man that had earned your trust) and so you let the unknown excite you. You let the intimidation trickle into arousal. A cocktail that had you wholeheartedly investing in this situation.

You nodded your head and he boosted himself up onto his knees. You kept your eyes on his face as he picked up one of your hands, pulling it towards him. He gently guided your hand to his crotch, your fingers brushing against the coarse fabric of his jeans. You could feel the firmness that was currently concealed by the denim and it made your heart pound harder.

After so long of wondering, everything was finally being confirmed.

You kept your hand at the outline of his cock, beginning to explore what you could of the bulge. He let go of your hand, satisfied that you didn’t need any further instruction. Instead he put both of his hands to your cheeks, keeping your head tilted back as he leaned in.

Your lips met as you continued to move your hand up-and-down the front of his pants. His tongue glided into your mouth, moving confidently past your teeth. He set his tongue to the roof of your mouth, massaging and tasting you deeper. You rubbed his dick harder, setting into something of a rhythm as your mind got lost in a whirlwind of possibilities.

You wrapped an arm around his waist, wanting to have more of his body on yours. No other man had ever made you feel this hungry.

He dragged his tongue back along the roof of your mouth, towards himself. His tongue left your mouth as he refocused his efforts to just sucking on your top lip.

His hands left your face, in favour of travelling down your sides. He started to gather up the satin fabric of your nightie, the hem lifting.

“You look real fuckin’ cute in this.” He murmured against your mouth. “But I’ve got this sneaking suspicion that you’d look even better without it.”

You gave your consent by reaching both of your arms up, above your head. He smiled as he lowered himself down to eye-level with you again. With his hands full of pink satin, he moved the clothing off of your body. Your nipples were hard as they met the night air. Momentarily, your vision was blocked as he pulled the short nightgown over your head.

When you could see again, you found that his eyes were fixed on your breasts. He hurried to toss the nightie away, to free his hands for your breasts. His eyes were wide, appreciating every inch of bare flesh now on display for him.

His hands were warm, so were his lips as he pressed them to your neck. He held a breast in each hand, his fingers caressing the soft skin. He placed kisses all over your neck and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, wanting to stay in this long-awaited embrace.

You slipped a hand up into his hair, grabbing for a selection of strands as he passed his thumbs over each very stiff nipple. His lingering kisses had moved lower, beginning to heat the area of your collarbones.

The desire was pooling between your thighs by the time his trail of kisses brought his mouth down to your breasts. You sucked in a quick breath as he wrapped his lips around a nipple. You gripped his hair tighter in your hand as you arched your back for him.

“Could I call…” You trailed off, laughing bashfully as you almost went back on your decision to make the request that was lit up in neon lights in your mind. “Would you be weirded out if I called you daddy?”

He looked up at you keenly. “Definitely not weirded out. I’d be turned on like crazy. Please call me that.”

You licked your lips as you gazed into his eyes. “Okay, Daddy.”

It fell so naturally from your lips, this name that you had been allocating to him in your fantasies.

His approval came through when he returned to your nipples, sucking more fiercely than before. Eager tingles spread through you as he worked his tongue all over the hard nub. Your other nipple was treated to attention from his capable fingers, giving it experimental squeezes and little twists.

His free hand went to your mattress, resting on the space behind your body. Then he was using his body weight to push into you, starting to get you to lean back. You went with this, ending up flat on your back underneath him. This was a position that you had imagined more than once.

He braced himself with both knees on the mattress. His wide eyes moved up to your face as he started to kiss his way off of your tits, moving lower. You lovingly pushed his hair back as you savoured the look in his eyes.

He kissed a trail down your body, his lips moving across your tummy. His eyes watched your face as he moved lower - potentially he was waiting for the moment when you asked him to slow down, or otherwise walked back your consent.

But that moment wasn’t going to come.

You were burning with anticipation, absolutely thrilled when he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your butt, assisting him in the task of working the lingerie down. It was slipped over your ankles and then you were totally naked before him. The heat in your cheeks intensified as he took a moment to let his eyes roam freely over your body - what was he thinking and would he act on every desire?

He settled where he sat between your legs. He placed his hands up high on both of your thighs as he leaned down again. He resumed his earlier path, applying his lips to the area beneath your belly button.

Slow kisses delivered him lower, until his lips brushed against the hair that covered your pubic mound. Your tummy was filled with butterflies and he continued to kiss lower.

His lips parted and you were feeling his hot tongue on your skin. It slithered down, moving in between your labia majora until contact with your clit was made. It was like an electrical current racing through your system and an excited moan bubbled up on your lips.

He used two of his fingers to gently fold your lips back, allowing him clearer access to your clitoris. He took advantage of this, laying kisses down on the hood. Each collision to the tight bundle of nerves felt better than the last and you were soon grabbing for a handful of his hair.

You slumped back on the mattress with a whine as he began working his tongue against your clit. You tilted your pelvis as he pressed the flat of his tongue against the pulsing hood. Then he used the tip to draw circles all around it, sending so much blood pumping to this area. You flinched, your sensitivities greatly increasing in response to him quickly zig-zagging his tongue over the hood.

His tongue moved lower, tasting your soaked entrance. Your legs drifted further apart for him as he keenly ran his tongue up-and-down your slit.

“Good girl.” He rasped and the sound of his voice was just as enjoyable as his touch. “You have no idea how fucking amazing you taste.”

“Um, thank you?” You responded to his compliment you hadn’t been sure you would ever hear from him.

“And you’re just so…” He halted the progress of this sentence so he could give your slit a thorough lick. “...wet for me.”

“It’s not the first time.” You admitted, squirming a little.

“And it won’t be the last.” He said. “I’m gonna make sure of that.”

His tongue lapped at your entrance, before being followed by something that felt different. You raised your head from the pillow to watch as he buried a finger into your cunt.

Soon a second finger was moving inside of you and he returned his mouth to your clit. Your walls fluttered excitedly around him as his tongue began working the hood over again.

Your muscles clenched and the arousal took you deeper. This was far superior to any sensations you had been able to secure for yourself with your own fingers, or even the assistance of toys.

You moved both of your hands into his hair, instantly curling them into eager fists. He started to pump his fingers inside of you, stroking your sensitive walls in a way that had you squeezing your eyes shut. His tempo was so very promising, all the while he maintained that delicious pressure on your clit.

You started to move with him, too excited to simply lie still. You desperately rode his fingers, rolling your hips in time with him. Your mouth fell slack as you happily lost yourself to the intensity.

“Daddy…” You whimpered as you realised that you were facing daunting heights.

He guided you up closer to that edge by curling his fingers inside of you. You were starting to quake, seriously doubting how much more you could take.

Then the orgasm was erupting inside of you, more powerful than anything else. Your mouth fell open as you were carried away by the shock.

You wholly surrendered, falling limp on the bed. And he was still going - his fingers slower, but continuing to move as he placed kisses tenderly to your clitoris. Your mind was empty as you simply rocketed from one sensation to the next, gasping and writhing.

He pulled his fingers out and sat back, but the aftershocks continued to wreck you. You kept your eyes shut as you tried to come to grips with what had just happened. For the moment, it all felt so unbelievable.

“Baby, look at everything you’ve been depriving yourself of.” He said.

With a groan of effort, you slightly lifted your head from the pillow to look at him. “I know. I feel really stupid.”

“Yeah, you should.” He teased, prompting you to lightly kick his leg. “Are you okay? Did you need me to get you anything, maybe some water?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Damn fine from my point of view.” He said.

You were still buzzing as you began to sit up, a smile on your face. “And from my point of view- you’re wearing far too much.”

“Is that what you think?” He asked, even as he put his hands down to the hem of his baggy T-shirt.

“Yep, it is.”

He tossed his shirt onto the floor, revealing what you had already seen before. Your interest went to where he was unbuckling his belt.

“There’s a popular theory that sex fucks up a friendship.” He said, wiggling out of his jeans.

Your eyes locked to where his boner strained against the fabric of his underwear. “Well I think that we should thoroughly fuck it up, like, all the way.”

He laughed and put his hands to your cheeks, manually redirecting where you were looking by gently tilting your head back. He was smiling as he brought you in for more kisses.

“Do you have condoms in here?” He asked.

You collected the protection from inside of your bedside table, handing it over. This prompted him to finally lower his underwear and your eyes widened as you took in a sight that you had only guessed at in the past. A tremble ran through your body as you tried to anticipate how it would feel to have that impressive dick inside of you.

He sat back once the condom was in place, resting his back against the wall as his eyes travelled over to you.

“Think you can take it, sweetie?” He asked - thankfully his tone was free from condescending.

You crawled over to him. “I’m dying to take it.”

He gave you a few kisses. “I like this enthusiasm. It’s so much better than the bratty attitude you’ve been giving me. And all it took to straighten you out was one orgasm.”

You silenced him by covering his mouth in kisses, nipping lightly at his lip, testing the bounds of what he would let you get away with. Your feistiness wasn’t reprimanded, instead he was pulling you closer. Between the feeling of his hands on your body and the wild ideas springing up in your mind, your cravings were recklessly rising.

Your plans of situating yourself in his lap were delayed by the movement of his hands and two words said into your ear: turn around.

You faced away from him and this was when you were brought into his lap. He slithered one arm around your middle and brought you in close, pressing kisses all over your shoulder as you got comfortable. You wiggled your butt against him, delighting in this new proximity.

He put a hand to your hip, the other reaching between you to grab his cock. His kisses to your neck lost some of their conviction as he instead concentrated on getting to your pussy. You were swollen and slippery for him, your soft lips parting around the head of his cock. He panted against the side of your neck as your cunt began to grip his penetrating length.

“Baby.” He whispered as you adjusted to his generous size.

You grinded back on it and turned your head to look at him. He captured your lips in a breathless kiss, his arm wrapping around your middle again, reminding you of just how secure you were. You leaned some of your body weight into him as he writhed beneath you.

You were sucking on his lower lip when he began to work his hips, setting the two of you into motion with his dick pumping into you. Between your sensitive walls, he stroked his cock, absolutely thrilling both of you. You were ecstatic to share this goal with him and your teeth grazed his lip as he began to find a tempo.

Before too long, he found a range of movement that he could lock into. He was getting more confident with each thrust. You could feel that tension gripping your body again, the intensity building as you met his every movement. You held onto his arm with both hands and your whimpers were being muffled by his mouth.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his eyes carefully looking you over.

You smiled and kissed him. “Yes. Yes, I’m so good, Daddy.”

He was smiling back at you as he reached his available hand forward, placing it over your cunt. He licked his lips, maintaining his rhythm inside of you as his fingers got reacquainted with your folds.

Your hips jolted excitedly up in response to him pushing the tip of a finger up to your clitoral hood. Your eyes began to flutter shut but you saw the pleased look on his face as he used his finger on your wet clit. This resulted in your cunt clenching harder around him, your eagerness taking control.

You were growing even more receptive to his thrusting, with all of these sensations coming together for an overwhelming harmony. His fingers working on your clitoris were perfection, bewitching you with each masterful swirl.

It was addicting in the way that you wanted to enjoy it for hours, genuinely unable to recall a time when you had felt better. At the same time, you were very aware of the fact that you wouldn’t be able to take all of this for very long.

The stakes were raised again, when his next jerk got his tip directly up against your g-spot. A powerful spasming of your body was triggered and you bit down on your lip, restraining the whimper that wanted to develop into a yelp.

“Fuck, Daddy…” You whined as he kept on playing with your clitoris.

There were stars in your eyes as he finished every pump at your sweet spot. He panted heavily but his resolve couldn’t be shaken, he remained set in his amazing pace.

“Oh, Thomas…” You moaned as you felt the dawning of your next climax.

You didn’t know how close he was. Even though it would be magical to come together, there was nothing in you that would have allowed you to hold on.

And it only took a couple more pushes from him to get you to completion. It was an astounding freefall, your toes curling and your eyes rolling back.

“Good girl, good girl.” He was whispering into your ear as you slowly recognised that he had stopped moving. His fingers had eased off of your clitoris as he allowed you the time to come back to Earth.

“Oh. My. God.” You said through shaky breaths. You looked at him - in the haze of your afterglow, you were even more taken with him than before. “Did you…?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

He gave you a kiss. “But you got me so close. Do you wanna turn around and face me again?”

“Yep.”

You were attempting to not look like the clumsiest person in all of history as you turned yourself around in his lap. Making each movement carefully, you were able to keep him inside the whole time - wet sounds from your cunt accompanied this effort. His hands on your back helped you stay steady.

You rocked your body weight forward, leaning into him and capturing more kisses. You brought your hands to his cheeks, cradling his face as your lips worked together. The way that he stroked his hands up-and-down your back was so sweet, reinforcing those giddy tingles that your orgasm had inspired into your body.

“I’ll do all the work.” He murmured against your lips. “You just hold on and, you know, enjoy.” You were nodding your head as he came in for another kiss. “Do you think that you could- like, do you have another orgasm in you?”

You giggled through the slight intimidation this brought. “No, I don’t know if I could do more than two. I mean, I never have…”

“Okay.” He said, his voice so soothing. “That’s okay, that is okay, sweet girl.” He kissed you. “Just tell me if it gets too much.”

“I will.”

He placed his arms around your middle, keeping you close as he started to kiss you again. You moved a hand into his hair, your fingers lightly brushing against his scalp. You were sinking deeper into this embrace, with so much to savour you were soon moving past that feeling of just wanting to sleep post-climax.

When he started to move, it was slowly as he gave some time to testing just how much you could take. It was all hitting you on such a deep level that you couldn’t help moaning a little as your thighs clenched around him. Your mouth grew slack against his and he lavished attention upon your lower lip, continuing to hold you tight.

You were secure in his arms as he worked to find a rhythm. You began to move with him, trying to meet his rocks - even though each one felt like it could destroy you. You remained firmly in the grips of your aftershocks, and you wanted to get him to that same (almost unreal) place.

“Please come.” You quietly whined, seeing no reason to try to hide how needy you were feeling.

“You're gonna make me baby, you're gonna make me.” He said.

He was moving quicker than you, repeatedly jerking himself up into you. You began to get the feeling like you could burst again. You were just as excited as before as you started working your hips, trying to match his rhythm.

He moaned, holding you tighter as you began matching all of his thrusts. He got to finish his motions at a deeper point inside of you, your pussy spasming in response to this intense stimulation (which came on the back of so much unbelievable intensity).

He rested his head back against the wall, all of his energy going to keeping the lower half of his body moving. You watched his face, seeing expressions dawning for the first time. They were somewhat similar to looks you had seen him wear before. But they were distinct, in their own league, as you pulled different sensations out of him. The exertion wasn't typical, coming from a deeper place. You loved seeing them all, reinforcing just what you were doing to him. He was so sexy in his current honesty.

Your gut clenched as he got faster, now reckless in how he jerked his hips. All of your effort went into keeping up with him, even as it got daunting. You didn't know how long you could hold on like this. You whimpered as you writhed against his body.

“Fuck sweetie, oh fuck, fuck.” He spasmed into you one last time and you heard his breath hitch. He stayed buried in deep, grinding his hips on yours as he was overtaken by the wave of pleasure and delight.

You were too stunned to move, taking in the sight of him as he began to peel back from you. His chest rapidly rose-and-fell as he leaned back on the wall for support. Your own tingles began to fade away, the adrenaline no longer needed.

“Oh, fuck…” He croaked, his eyes very slowly blinking open. His eyes focused on you immediately and he tensed his arms around you to bring you closer. He bumped his nose against yours before kissing you. “That was so fuh… are you okay?”

You nodded. “I'm better than okay. I'm really happy we got that worked out, I didn't like not being friends with you.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “But this is like enjoying your company like never before.”

You gave him another kiss before starting to move yourself out of his lap. Your body felt very tender as you returned it to the bed, finding the most comfortable way to lay while also keeping your eyes on him.

“Do you need me to get you anything?” He asked.

“No, but will you stay with me?” You asked. “I promise I don't snore. I just wanna cuddle.”

“You could snore louder than a fuckin' semi-truck horn. There's literally nothing that could keep me from cuddling you, angel.” He said, starting to reposition and take up the space available beside your body.

You tucked your feet in under the blanket. “We’ll figure out how we're gonna explain this to everyone else in the morning.”

“They'll probably be passed out and hungover for a while tomorrow.” He said, an arm going around your waist as he got comfortable. “So that gives us more time for starting the day right, before we have to worry about anyone else…”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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