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silverfairywings · 4 months ago

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— IN THE WAKE OF FLAMES. PT I

eris vanserra x archeron!reader

summary: even before you became fae, your favourite season was autumn. it’s a little hard to hide this when your least favourite newly appointed high lord has made it his life’s mission to be the most annoying male in your life.

a/n: not sure what this is but let me know if u want more lol

You’d think that hiding behind the Spymaster of the Night Court, a literal Shadowsinger, would allow you to blend in well enough to go unnoticed.

The auburn silk of your dress is a near perfect match to the grandeur of the Autumn Court ballroom you’re unfortunate enough to have to be in, and you tell yourself that the attempt at camouflage is the reason you were so drawn to the colour.

When Rhysand approached you and the rest of the Inner Circle with the invitation of a ball thrown by Eris to celebrate his newly inherited title of High Lord, your sister Nesta had dragged you out to shop for new dresses. You were adamant to wear an old gown until the dress caught your eye, the gold beads glinting in the light, almost mimicking a gently burning fire. The deep orange hue of the silk slip was muted ever so slightly by the sheer overlay, cinching at the waist before cascading to the ground and the wisps of fabric around your legs gave the illusion of sparks every time you moved.

Nesta had made a comment about the dress being perfect for Autumn Court and you had to physically restrain yourself from grimacing. You just liked the colour. It didn’t mean a thing.

Nesta and Feyre looked like perfect representatives of the Night Court and even Elain was donning soft shades of purple and blue tonight, a perfect embodiment of twilight. You loved your sisters, but you felt like you never quite fit in to the Night Court the way they had grown to. And you certainly felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb tonight.

Eris was definitely going to comment on the dress and you curse yourself internally, not having thought it through. He was jarring at the best of times, let alone a night that was solely dedicated to him. And you were dressed in the colours of his court.

You were extremely glad when Eris’ mother was the one to greet you all when you first entered the Autumn Court and not him. It allowed you to fully appreciate the beauty of his lands with unrestrained awe. Your sisters knew that Autumn had always been your favourite season, so the way you were so happy catching each falling leaf out of the sky was even more amusing to them considering they also knew how little patience you had for Eris.

That’s why you find yourself hiding behind Azriel’s wings tonight. As soon as you spot Eris making his way to greet Rhysand and Feyre, you sneak behind the Shadowsinger in an attempt to make yourself invisible.

“Seriously?” mutters the Illyrian, but he stays still for you all the same.

“Keep quiet,” you hiss, prodding him in the back. “You know very well how much he targets me. Gods, I thought he hated Cassian, but I seriously give him a run for his money.”

Mor, overhearing you, snorts into her cup. She creeps up next to you, lowering her voice to match yours. “You are so oblivious. He doesn’t hate you. He wants-”

“Might I interrupt the riveting conversation that I’m sure is going on behind the Shadowsinger’s wings?” you hear a voice drawl from in front. Your blood runs hot at being caught and you nearly burst into flames when Azriel starts to lower his wings, revealing you and Mor. She rolls her eyes at Eris’ attitude and walks away to talk to the pretty faerie in the green dress.

The years have softened the strained relationship between the Circle and Eris and none of them view him as a threat any longer. That doesn’t mean they find him any less irritating though.

Eris smiles at you when you cross your arms and clench your jaw, already feeling impatience with him bubbling up inside of you. He glances down at your dress and his lips quirk up a little higher. “Looking stunning as ever, Y/N.”

The others have already dispersed, and even Rhysand and Feyre have started to garner the attention of other important people they need to talk to. As they start to leave however, Rhysand speaks to in your head. Let me know if he’s bothering you too much. Just… try not to throw a plate at his face this time, please.

You glare at the back of Rhysand’s head. That was one time.

He doesn’t respond but you see his shoulders shaking with laughter for a millisecond before Feyre nudges him to behave in front of an Autumn Court official.

“Talking about me?” Eris asks, amused. You open your mouth to snap back at him, but notice the growing number of guests that are around the two of you now that the others have moved away. You bite your tongue for once. He is the High Lord now after all.

You plaster on a sweet smile. “Only good things… High Lord.”

Eris raises his brows at that, but chooses not to comment. He holds out his hand instead. “Dance with me.”

You’re about to laugh in his face and tell him absolutely not, but his request has caught the attention of a couple guests and they nosily look over in what you’re sure they think is a subtle way. “I’m a little tired. Sorry,” you say through gritted teeth, still smiling.

“Surely you’re not going to deny me such a small request on tonight of all nights?” he says softly, part mocking and part pleading.

You know for a fact he won’t force you to dance, but if you deny him in front of the other guests, it’ll undermine him and while you dislike him, you’re not that cruel. Plus, Feyre would probably have your head if you were to insult a High Lord in public. In private, she only ever laughs when you disparage him, but appearances are everything.

“Of course not,” you deadpan, reaching for his outstretched hand and trying not to react to the way the warmth radiating through his palm is warming your previously cold fingers.

He leads you into the crowd of dancing guests, placing his free hand on your waist as you rest yours on his shoulder, keeping a respectable distance. He rolls his eyes and tugs you forward so your chest is nearly flush against his own. When you glare at him, he merely smirks. “It’s a little hard for two people to dance when one of them is halfway across the room from the other.”

You hear a giggle from one of the guests near you and nearly whip around to glare at them. Eris catches the expression on his face and it’s as though he can read your mind with the way he’s holding back a grin. “My apologies,” you mumble, before lowering your voice to a whisper that only he can hear. “Smartass.”

“I do so enjoy your pet names for me,” Eris teases, utterly unbothered. Every time you interact with him, you swear to yourself you’ll keep a cool head. And every time, you fail. “I like your dress.”

You narrow your eyes at the compliment, but since he hasn’t actually said anything insulting or with a double meaning like he usually does, you don’t have anything to be annoyed about and begrudgingly accept the nice words. “Thank you.”

“You look ravishing in the colours of my court.”

You step on his foot.

He hisses in pain, but the grin doesn’t leave his face when he sees that he’s succeeded in irritating you.

“I didn’t choose the colours on purpose,” you say, defensively. “I just happened to like the dress.”

“You know, you often happen to like Autumn colours,” he muses, expression turning thoughtful and not in a sarcastic way this time. “Or any colour that isn’t of the Night Court’s fashion. Tell me, do your sisters know how you long to find someplace you actually belong?”

Your stomach drops and you feel like you’ve been doused in freezing cold water.

“I wasn’t aware you were a Daemati, High Lord,” you say, scowling. Eris furrows his brows at the title and spins you out before bringing you back in, this time a little closer than before. “You’re wrong.”

“Stop calling me that,” he mutters, a hint of impertinence in his voice. It takes you by surprise since you assumed he’d be revelling in all the glory, the power of High Lord coursing through his veins. Instead, he sounds like a boy being denied his favourite sweets. “Call me Eris again.”

“No.” You frown at him, pulling back slightly to meet his stubborn gaze. “We’re not friends. You’re the High Lord of Autumn now and I’ll be addressing you as such.”

“What, I’m High Lord now, so you have to respect me all of a sudden?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you sigh, already anticipating this conversation taking a turn you don’t want it to.

“You have to be pleasant with me?”

“Yes.”

“Listen to my commands?”

“Yes.”

His smile turns wolfish. “Then I command you to call me Eris.”

“I can think of a few other things to call you, if not High Lord,” you mutter, careful not to allow any eavesdroppers to hear.

“And while I’d love to hear them, I doubt they’d be suitable for the delicate ears of court officials.”

While he’s exactly right, the way his eyes twinkle with mischief tells you that he’s insinuating a completely different type of unsuitable and your cheeks burn.

“Don’t you ever tire of being so wearisome?” you say, drily. His eyes soften ever so slightly as they scan over your face.

“Don’t you ever tire of pretending?” he asks quietly, meeting your eyes determinedly. You don’t bother asking him to clarify.

“Why can’t you just mind your own business?” You try to snap at him, but the way his words hit you deep have all the bite leaving your voice and instead you sound imploring.

Eris doesn’t answer your question and just keeps going as the two of you dance. “My mother wants me to tell you that you’re welcome to visit any time, by the way.”

“I’ll let Rhysand know.”

“She didn’t say Rhysand, she said you.”

”What?” You look up at him, shocked. That was probably the last thing you expected him to say, “Why in the world would your mother want me to visit? She saw me hurl that plate at your head last month.”

“Yes, and she told me I probably said something to deserve it,” he grumbles, but without any real malice when talking about his mother. It’s clear as day that he has nothing but love for the sweet woman.

“She’s a smart one, your mother,” you say, grinning at the thought of Eris being reprimanded. You catch him watching you without speaking and immediately frown, not wanting him to think you’re actually smiling at him. Which you definitely aren't. “I still don’t understand why she wants me to visit.”

Eris shrugs, although his eyes stray from yours, and he’s seemingly bored with the conversation as he looks down to the floor as your feet move gracefully across it. “She likes your attitude.”

“My bad attitude?” you ask, wrinkling your nose in genuine confusion.

“Passionate,” he corrects you, meeting your eyes again, and you find no traces of humour in them. “And ‘fiery’ as she called it. Don’t feel bad for not being able to always control your emotions in front of others like the rest of them. You’re allowed to feel.”

Any response you might have had is lost to nothing and the silence stretches as your heart feels like it’s slamming against your chest. It’s a mix of fear and something else with the way he’s looking at you and you suddenly need to be anywhere else.

Clearing your throat, you step back in the middle of dancing and lower your hand from his shoulder to smooth down your dress. Your other hand is still ensnared in his and it lingers there while he speaks.

“If you do accept my mother’s invitation, you don’t have to see me if you don’t want to,” Eris adds and you try and listen out for any veiled mocking.

“Why do you even care?”

At this, his lips quirk up almost involuntarily. Slowly, his fingers start to loosen up around your hand and he begins to let go, faintly trailing his hand down your own as he does so. Instead of stepping away, he walks closer, stepping to the side slightly to lean down so his lips brush against your ear in a way that makes your breathing erratic.

“My mother was telling me that she saw you practically light up like a forest fire surrounded by the trees. She feels as though you should be able to stay longer next time,” he says in a normal voice before lowering it to a whisper. “She also overheard one of your sisters call Autumn your favourite season.”

Before you can protest and, let’s face it, lie to him, Eris calmly walks away and you know for a fact that the smug bastard is smirking at the way he’s succeeded in getting under your skin.

There’s no way you’re accepting his mother’s invitation, as sweet a woman as she is. You think about all the possible ramifications and decide to push the thought in its entirety out of your mind.

Nothing good ever comes from agreeing to dance with Eris. It’s extremely similar to playing with fire, you think.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x you #Eris vanserra fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris fanfic #Eris vanserra imagines #eris x oc

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

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lovingly dominant

capt. john price

tags: smut/pwp, age gap (20s/30s), size difference/kink, dom/sub dynamic, bdsm au, virgin!reader, light bdsm, praise (kink)

a/n: in a surprising twist, bunny has written call of duty again!! expect more cod stuff into december when the f1 season is over and it stops eating my brain <3

john price considered himself a little old fashioned. he thought it was better to have his birdie of the week on her back and rut into her until they both finished. he had no need for whips, chains, collars, and whatever else the world of bdsm had to offer.

but after so many missions and so many years, the pollution of combat bled into his sexual desires. he craved for control, near domination of his birdie. yes, they looked cute on their backs and their soft noises. but it looked far more appealing to keep her blindfolded, second guessing what was being done to her while price's filthy words spilled across her brain like wine on a white carpet. tainting her. tainting you.

most dominants loved a trained submissive. loved that they knew the ins and outs of the dynamic, tinkering to their liking. price on the other hand had a thing for over eager virgins. ones who got all their bdsm know-how from horribly written fan fiction. he liked to teach and guide, he liked to shape his submissive into the perfect image of what could be.

and when he met you, oh, well something else came up. an unwavering possessive need. price tried to not get possessive, this was all just a little game for sexual pleasure. but when he found out his little trainee worked at a flower shop, it was all over for him. it was only doubled down when you had your first meeting at a coffee shop and you got the most delicious looking slice of strawberry shortcake.

the cream on the corner of your mouth almost made john price lose resolve. instead he covered up with a cough before you asked, "do you want some, mister price." and who was john price to deny such a lovely girl her offer. you even fed it to him, a glimmer in your eye and gentle smile.

"it's lovely, baby girl." he said before he wiped a bit of the cream off his beard which made you giggle. that giggle seared into his brain and he knew that you weren't getting with any other man.

you met at his flat a few weeks later, and you were eager. price liked that. sex was only half as fun when the person he was fucking was almost having a good time. you came over in a big sweatshirt and jeans that were a little baggy, something that covered up. it made price curious as to what was hiding underneath.

"look beautiful, birdie." he said as he guided you inside and you got your sneakers off. you looked over at him to help you through the flat. you held onto him a little nervous, the only familiar thing in the place. price held you by the middle and let you press your face up against his strong chest.

he was in a flannel with a white undershirt and jeans. you could see the gold chain around his throat and the heavy chest hair. you had seen him naked from photos shared and he had seen you naked, but to feel it up close left a shiver of excitement through you. he leaned down and kissed you on the top of your head as he led you to the bedroom.

he said, "afterwards, i'll make ya some dinner. not the best chef, but, i can cook ya somethin' to replenish the energy you spent fucking me." he then ruffled your hair, which made your heart leap and he got you onto the bed.

you nodded meekly, you looked so small. so innocent. a girl like you should be on dated with finance guys or even the artsy kind. not a weathered, older military man like him. but even things in smaller packages can be surprising, just like when you took off your clothes and revealed a matching set of bra and panties. a soft grey colour with pastel yellow accents. it made price have to adjust himself in his jeans.

"ah, pretty girl got a surprise for me. how sweet?"

you nodded, "i wanted to make tonight special. good luck for a long... dynamic between us. so, you don't get rid of me if i suck." and soon you were in price's embrace while you still sat on the bed. your cheek pressed hard against his soft but firm middle.

he petted your head a little and said, "ah, don't worry, petal. even if you do bad tonight, i got every intention of trainin' ya. make you the perfect girl." the words spoken hit right to your core and when he pulled away long enough to strip down, you felt your eyes go wide for a moment.

a photo couldn't capture every inch of john price's skin. the scars, the tattoos, the hair, the muscle, the fat. he was like a big brown bear and it made you soaked. you shifted a little in your spot on the bed and rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. it was surprising that you were still a virgin, but you always chickened out. now as an adult, you wanted to just get it over with. but, you wanted to have fun. and why not have fun with a well experienced dom who wouldn't half-ass your first time. it didn't hurt that he had the kind of looks that would make any man with half a brain jealous.

"i hope i meet expectations." he chuckled as he put his hands on his hips. his cock stood at full attention and you swallowed. there was something so masculine about him, but not in a toxic way. he played with your hair once more before he patted your cheek, "no need to gawk, petal. i'm not goin' anywhere." and you swallowed. he chuckled before he got into bed with you and slowly unwrapped you of your lingerie like delicate christmas paper.

he hadn't been this excited to upwrap something since he got the toy firetruck as a kid. but in total fairness, you were hotter than any fire red truck. his hands grazed across your body with total tenderness and his hungry blue eyes gazed the skin.

the stretch marks, the moles, your own scarring. you were beautiful in ways that price couldn't describe. to compare you to something would be unfair to the thing being compared to your beauty. he took you by the wrist and kissed the center of it.

"this is a promise, petal. for as long as you keep me as your dominant and you my submissive, i with cherish you, adore you, and most of all. make sure that you cum over and over again." before he kissed you on the lips and got you onto your back. he admired you, "usually i like to take pretty things on their hands and knees. but, tonight's gotta be special, right, doll?"

you nodded.

he tapped your nose and said, "ah, ah, ah. that won't cut it. the words are 'yes, sir', got it? would hate to bruise that little behind during our first time."

you found your voice and said, "yes, sir." and was met with a rough pat on the cheek before price pulled away to rest on his knees to fuck you with just right. you felt heat course through your body as you took in the sight of him. burly, large from top to bottom.

course dark hair on his body, a little heft in his middle (but who didn't love that), a sparkle in his blue eyes, and hands large enough to break things between the digits. he admired you in return and said softly, "pretty little petal, yeah? ah, who let ya be so beautiful?" he chuckled as he rubbed his cock up against your slick sex, "i got so much to teach ya. how to tie ya up, how to gag ya properly. mmm, we'll have so much fun." he then pulled away to grab a condom from the nightstand. he held up the silver foil to you and said, "rule one, play safe or don't play at all."

you nodded and remembered to reply, "yes, sir."

price gave you a smile that lit you up and said, "good girl." then quickly got the condom on. he admired your soaked sex for a moment longer, "she achin' for me, huh? cute." then slowly, almost agonizingly, he inched into you and felt the spread of warmth through his body.

heaven was created with your pussy in mind. price was never a quick finisher, but he almost finished inside of you when he managed to get all of himself inside of you. he kept eyes and ears open, the type of examining done in his line of work, to make sure that you weren't in too much pain.

"ya alright?"

you nodded and swallowed.

price added, "baby girl. words." and then nodded his head when you replied that everything was okay, he nodded and said, "roger that." which made you pussy clench. a smile spread across price's face as he leaned forward. he captured your hands in his and pressed them to the bed under you. he chuckled lowly, "ah, someone likes a military man? a man in uniform gets ya goin'?" he kissed your pulse point, "ah, too cute, petal. i guess seeing that on my description didn't scare ya off." he rocked against you, "know it's a crime to mess up a man's uniform."

you swallowed, "sir. fuck." and felt the strike of heat through your body. you had to admit, you had seen a few photos of him in uniform. the beret, boots and all. and it made something turn in your stomach. only added an appeal to him that made you hot.

price replied, "i guess it worked out. because i like cute little civilians who are more than eager to make me feel good. doin' your civic duty makin' me cum, baby girl." these was a tension in his voice that made you heart hammer and your throat feel tight. the bed squeaked a little under the both of you as he continued his movements. he knew he was going to have an amazing time with you.

you whined, "please, sir."

"tell me. tell me what ya like about it? what gets my baby girl goin'? i gotta know, because maybe i can get somethin' together that'll rock your world." his words were hot and your cunt fluttered around his achy, hard cock. for a moment he was uncertain if you were actually a virgin, you took him so well.

you moaned when you felt a spark of pleasure in your core, your entire life had just been your hands and an assortment of toys. but to have price work your body beautifully was something else. you replied sweetly, "i... i want to thigh ride you in uniform." you felt a flush of embarrassment.

he chuckled, "oh that would be quite the sight, huh?" he continued to move against you beautifully, "i bet that i could make ya cum just from my thighs. rub your cunt all over it, messin' up the fabric. higher-ups will be wonderin' about the pussy stains all over the fabric. maybe if i'm lucky i'll get some of your wetness in my beard. let 'em smell you on me." and well, that excited you deeply.

you arched your back a little bit, but price kept you pinned perfectly under him. you tightened your thighs around him and he continued to work your body. it wasn't rough sex, but it also wasn't boringly soft either. he worked you at a steady pace, like a man with immense stamina. he eyed the bounce of your breasts and he moved against you.

he licked his lips at the sight of you, "baby girl." he purred, "you're a dirty girl. but don't worry." he soon held onto your wrists instead of your hands, a further act of domination, "i like 'em dirty. i like girls i can sink my teeth into. soon enough you won't be able to cum unless it's my fingers, tongue or cock in you. ya got the kind of soft skin that would bruise perfectly. but be careful, petal, i can be quite mean with a paddle." and it was met with a heavy moan. music to his ears.

you had never been spoken to like this before, but it excited you. you wanted to be price's dirty girl any day of the week. you felt excitement cross over you as he picked up the pace. the two of you fucked heavily and it left a taste of want in your mouth. this was better than anything you hoped for. it wasn't just that price checked boxes on a superficial level, he knew exactly how to make you squirm and moan. heavy noises came from your mouth as he worked your achy cunt, you felt amazing.

"ya like knowin' that i'm your first. big, scary captain makin' a mess of the sweetest cunt in the world. knowin' in a way, i got ya for life." he licked his lips. he liked that you were pure in that way, call him old fashioned. but knowing that he got to have you first was sort of like getting the first slice of cake at a party. something he wished to sweetly devour. and with you it was with heavy thrusts and filthy words. taint you to his liking.

you whined as you clenched your fists, you tensed up and he loved the feeling. he could almost read your mind with how sweet you felt. he could nearly feel your heartbeat as he fucked you. he loved the sight of you, you looked damn near perfect under him. you said between heavy pants, "please, sir. fuck, please!"

"feel good, petal? like how i take you." he moved against you further and it left him feeling the anticipation for climax. he continued to fuck your sweet body, working every last centimeter of warm skin, "remember, ya gotta ask me to cum."

his movements were overwhelming, his pace left you feeling breathless. and in your first lesson of intimacy, you croaked out, "can i cum, sir? please, i need to cum."

and price could be a giving man. he looked down at you, haze in those blue eyes as he said, "of course, baby girl. cum for me, cum for your captain." and swore under his breath as you beautifully came apart for him. he held onto your wrists tighter and groaned. it paired nicely with your sweet little moans.

"sir! fuck!" you gasped as you clenched around him. you finished and it only prompted him to move faster while you laid in such a blissed out state. no one had made you finish like that, not even your own nimble digits.

but price was just that good.

the bed creaked further and the headboard hit against the beige wall of the bedroom. he fucked you faster and made sure to cram every inch inside of you. with a few more heavy strokes, he finished into of you with a heavy groan. he fucked you through his climax before he slowed to a stop.

he wiped the sweat from his forehead and exhaled deeply, "beauty, beauty. where has the world been hidin' ya from me." he chuckled as he kissed you on the lips. you melted against him and moaned.

when he pulled out, he got up with a creak in his hip to throw out the condom before he was back in bed with you. you were both naked under the covers as price traced your form with his calloused fingers. the roughness on your soft skin made you shiver.

"how about it, lovie." he said in that low, gruff tone of his. his hand grazed across your side and behind, "how about i invite the boys over and their little birdies and we can have a little playdate. introduce you to the group."

you swallowed, "play... date?"

price pulled you closer. he held onto you the way someone would hold a stuffed animal. he smiled at you, "don't worry, petal. no one's gettin' their hands on ya. not while i'm still breathin'." his voice was tinged with a possessiveness. you nodded in response and he added, "besides, i know i'll make the boys nice and jealous with you." he chuckled, "my beautiful baby girl." then kissed you on the lips.

you could only imagine what would happen at a playdate with price's friends and their submissives. it also didn't help that it made you a little excited as well. <3

#bunny writes #call of duty #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #price smut #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john price x you #price x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price #john price cod #john price call of duty #captain john price smut #john price smut #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty fanfic

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wanders-in-wonderland · 3 months ago

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Don't Move

*Loosely inspired by the new Netflix movie Don’t Move but I haven’t actually watched it and only saw clips and read the synopsis.

I never should have parked so far from the grocery store. I’d stopped to grab a few items for dinner on my way home from work and parked in the last row, wanting to give myself an opportunity to walk a little extra to the store and stretch my legs after sitting at a computer desk all day, especially since today was an uncharacteristically sunny fall day. When I finish shopping and come back out to my car, I vaguely take note of another car parked next to me.

Weird, considering half the lot was empty but who am I to judge, I’m not the parking police. I roll my cart to my car, unload my shopping bags, and return the cart before rounding my car to get in and leave. That’s when I realize that the car next to me parked absurdly close to mine.

I silently judge the distance and decide that maybe I can squeeze myself into my driver side door without dinging his door or mine so I step in the space between the two vehicles. As soon as I pull open my door, I can tell that my plan won’t work. I huff out a little laugh and decide to just crawl in through the passenger side when I hear the car door slam from behind.

“Sorry!” An embarrassed sounding male voice sounds. “I totally misjudged the distance and parked a little too close.”

I turn to see a tall man stride around what I assume is his car that he was sitting in, coming towards me. I smile back at him, “No worries, it happens to the best of us. I can just crawl in through the other side.”

His eyes crinkle in a kind smile and he raises one hand to run through his hair bashfully. I realize that he’s really attractive, the kind of boy-next-door attractive that makes you feel at ease. He’s closed the distance between us and stands near the back bumper of both our cars, his frame filling the space and effectively trapping me in.

“No, don’t, I can move my car, just give me a sec,” he says, giving a wry chuckle. I glance down at his other hand and see him holding an umbrella. I raise an eyebrow, gesturing towards it with my chin, “Expecting rain?”

He looks down as if he’s surprised to see the umbrella in his hand, “Oh! This! Well, you can never be too prepared, right?” He shrugs lightly and takes another step into my space.

“Plus, it’s really useful for times like this,” he says before clicking a button on the handle that makes the tip light up with electricity. His umbrella is a stun gun in disguise. Before I can react, he jabs it into my side and I let out a strangled yelp as sharp pain floods my body and I crumple.

He catches me and the last thing I see before my vision goes black is his handsome face twisted in a dark, menacing smile.

—

The rhythmic jostling of a car wakes me up and I found myself laid out across the backseat of a car with my arms tied behind my back and my legs tied together at my ankles. I let out a soft whine, my body aching as I slowly clear my head.

My eyes dart around the car and I see him driving. He tilts the rearview mirror down so we can see each other and he flashes me a charming smile.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” His voice is teasing, as if we were lovers, waking up in bed together and not a deranged kidnapper and his prey.

“What the fuck? Let me go!” I thrash against my restraints but he’s also strapped me into the seatbelts and made it impossible for me to get free.

He smiles, “Don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

I feel the car turn and from my limited view out the windows, I see him turn us from a main road onto a smaller path that seems to lead into the forest. Fear starts to overtake my every emotion.

“Where are you taking me? Are you going to kill me?” I say, my voice cracking.

He laughs in response but doesn’t deign to give me a verbal response. Before I can muster up the courage to ask more, the car comes to a stop and he steps out before opening the door by my feet.

With a strong grip, he hauls me out of the car and I stumble out, legs unsteady and uncoordinated from being bound together. “Please, please, let me go!” I beg him, my heart in my throat.

He grins at me, “Let’s play a game. I’ll give you an opportunity to run, and if you out-run me, I’ll let you go.” I gasp, staring at him, waiting for the catch. He reaches behind me and with a swift motion, unties my arms. He leans down and does the same for my ankles and I stare at him in shock.

“You better run, little bird.” His voice is teasing as he takes a step back from me. I don’t hesitate. I spin and take off.

My breath is harsh and my heartbeat wild as I sprint through the woods, ignoring the branches that scratch at my face and arms. I hear his laugh following me and then his voice shouting after me, “Run, little bird, run as fast as you want but you won’t get far!”

I don’t stop to think, just mindlessly crashing through the woods as fast as I can, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. I’m not sure how far I’m able to get when suddenly, my leg seems to give out from underneath me and I take a tumble.

I gasp, trying my best not to scream as I trip and find myself landing hard on the ground. Pain shoots through my body and I grit my teeth, not wanting to make any more noise in case he can hear me. Adrenaline is still pumping through me as I scramble to push myself back up from the floor. I manage to stand and take a step before my knees buckle again and I drop to my hands and knees.

What the fuck is going on? Why isn’t my body cooperating? I’m frantic, horror filling my blood as I realize something is very wrong. My legs won’t move and I don’t know why. I try to crawl forward but suddenly, my arms give out and I end up sprawled across my front, branches digging into my body painfully.

I can’t escape like this. My brain is begging my body to just move and keep running but nothing is happening. I use an excruciating amount of effort to roll myself from my front to my back so at least I can have a better vantage point but that’s all that I’m able to accomplish before my body completes shuts down. I’m left splayed out on my back, limbs frozen, mind screaming in panic when I hear footsteps approaching.

And then, I hear his voice. “Little bird, did the drugs kick in?”

My heart drops at his words. He drugged me. That was why I couldn’t move. Tears filled my eyes and I blinked rapidly, the only movement I could still produce.

I see him walk into my view through my tears and I hear him chuckle. “Looks like my little bird can’t fly anymore.” He walks up next to me and looks down at me and waves a syringe mockingly.

“A paralytic. Fast-acting and long-lasting. You’re going to be like this for at least several hours,” he says, a maniacal gleam lighting up his eyes. I try to speak and realize that I can’t even do that.

He crouches down next to me and brushes my hair off my face, then trailing a hand down my cheek, collecting a tear. “We are going to have so much fun together, little bird.”

He hefts me up into his arms and carries me through the forest, retracing the path I’d ran down. I realize with a sinking heart that I did not make it far at all and in a few hundred yards, we end up back at the car. My mind is still screaming at my body to move but nothing obeys.

He carries me into a cabin, the intended destination of our car ride, and I stare listlessly at the space around us. We end up in a bedroom with a large bed and I feel another wave of fear pass over me. He’s going to rape me.

He lays me down gently on the bed like I’m some kind of precious cargo. Then he disappears from view and I hear the sound of running water from what I assume is the connected bathroom. He comes back holding a first aid kit and a wet towel. He starts with the scratches on my face, wiping them down before putting some kind of cream over them, his fingers gentle.

He makes a tsk sound at me, “Look at you, little bird. Covered in scratches, I’m going to need to take good care of you, hm?” He smiles down at me and my stomach curdles. My eyes are wide as I stare back at him, silent.

Then he pulls out a pair of scissors and I want to flinch but I can’t. He starts to cut my shirt off my body and I feel dizzy with terror as my clothes start to fall away in strips. I beg my body to move but just like before, there’s nothing in response.

He moves down to my pants, opting to unbutton them and gently pull them off my legs, taking care to maneuver my body around. Tears are streaming down my face, wetting my temples and my hair as I stare up at the ceiling blankly.

I’m naked now, stripped bare, splayed out on the bed. “Fuck, little bird, you’re beautiful,” he says, his voice low. He runs a hand down my cheek, ghosting over my throat and down between the valley of my breasts, over my stomach, and he comes to rest in between my legs. I close my eyes, trying to escape from this horror.

He nudges my legs further apart, revealing my pussy to his hungry gaze and I feel his finger dance across me. The movement is gentle, teasing, and if I could move, it would have made me tense and jerk away. But instead, I lay still, my body unable to do anything except let him take what he wants.

He trails a gentle finger against my clit and the touch makes electricity dance down my spine. He pulls his hand away for a second and I feel his finger press against my mouth. My eyes fly open to meet his. He smiles at me before gently pushing his finger into my mouth. My lips part with no resistance and when he pulls his hand away, a string of saliva follows.

His spit-wet finger goes back to between my legs and he rubs my clit again. My eyes clench shut as an unwanted wave of pleasure washes over me and if I could moan right now, I know that I would be biting it back. His wet finger moves up and down over me and he knows exactly how hard to rub and where to touch. I feel my breath stutter in my chest and I want nothing more than to push him away, to make him stop.

“Little bird, I can feel you getting wet,” he purrs at me and I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to block it out. “I’m going to take such good care of this pretty pussy,” he says as he gently slides a finger inside of me. I’m so wet now that there’s no resistance at all, and my relaxed body only helps him breech me.

He adds a second finger and suddenly, I feel the hot touch of a mouth on my clit. It’s unbearable, the forced pleasure permeating every single sense and nerve, the paralytic erasing every possible outlet I could have to soothe the sharp, overwhelming blanket of unwanted bliss. I can’t clench my legs, can’t roll my hips, arch my back, or even make a single sound. It’s torture.

His mouth and fingers work at me relentlessly and I can feel an orgasm building up. Except my body can’t respond to it, my pussy can’t tense and contract, there’s nothing to soften the rush of pleasure that slams into me. Tears are streaming down my face as my orgasm takes my breath away, the unimaginable pleasure shooting through me with no physical outlet. It makes my entire being go hazy, my breathing quickening as much as it could with my body in this state.

He doesn’t stop when I cum. His fingers continue to slide into me, curling upwards to hit my g-spot with painstaking accuracy. He lifts his mouth from my clit and flashes me a devious smile, “I told you I’d take good care of you. And fuck, you taste so fucking good, little bird. I could do this all day.”

His lips seal around my clit again, sucking, flicking, licking. I’m trapped in my body, trapped in this unbearable pleasure, as he wrings another orgasm out of my helpless body. Finally, he pulls back, sliding his fingers out of my dripping pussy. He sits back on his heels and looks down at me, triumph and satisfaction making him look like a king surveying his conquest.

He slides off the bed but stays in my field of vision as he begins to strip, every article of clothing removed revealing his attractive form. When his pants and underwear come off, I see his long, hard cock jut out, tip already dripping with pre-cum. I want to beg him to stop, tell him that I can’t take anymore but I can’t. I can only watch as he stalks toward me, crawling onto the bed and settling between my legs again.

He’s on his knees, towering over me as he strokes his cock languidly. “I’m going to make you fall apart on my cock, and make you take every single inch in that tight fucking cunt of yours. You are going to be mine, little bird.”

He moves my legs from where they’ve been spread wide, moving them to press both against my chest, leaving my pussy exposed and open for him. I feel the head of his cock push against my pussy and I close my eyes, trying to will myself away from this.

He laughs, “You can’t hide from me, you know that.” His body moves as he slides his cock into me. He’s gentle, slowly feeding an inch at a time, giving my lax body time to adjust to his massive size. I want to thrash and writhe, the feeling of his cock filling me so completely takes my breath away and it feels so fucking good I want to crawl out of my skin.

He lets out a low groan, cursing under his breath as he finally sinks all the way into me. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good, your cunt was made for me.”

Then, he fucks me. His hips slam into me without remorse, every thrust making my body jolt, his grip on my legs and hips the only things keeping me in place. My eyes roll back into my head as the pleasure overwhelms me.

Every thrust slams into my cervix, the pain-tinged pleasure makes me want to scream, to do anything to relieve this mind-melting, all-encompassing feeling. His movements are relentless, each one punctuated by the sound of his pleasure-filled groans. The sound of my pussy’s wetness fills the room, along with our skin slapping together, creating a cacophony of lewd noise.

“Fuck, little bird, I’m going to cum in your tight cunt. I’m going to mark you as mine from the inside,” he growls, his grip on me tight as his hips speed up. Waves of pleasure crash through me and I want to claw myself out of my physical form. I can’t cope with the pleasure shooting through every nerve with nowhere to go.

His hips stutter against mine and I hear his voice rasp out a drawn-out moan as he cums inside of me. He lets my legs down gently, taking care not to strain me as he leans over me. “Fuck, next time I do this, I want you writhing underneath me in pleasure,” he says, voice breathless. I can only stare back at him in response.

He pulls away from me, the feeling of his cock leaving my pussy sending tingles down my spine. He looks at me, his cum dripping out of my cunt and he smiles. “Don’t worry, we’re not done yet.” His words push a stab of anguish into me. What more can he do to me? I can’t handle any more.

He climbs off the bed and steps out of my line of sight. When he comes back, he’s holding a horribly mean-looking vibrator. My eyes widen and I blink frantically, my mind screaming at him to please stop. He can’t hear me but he wouldn’t listen to me even if I could verbalize my pleading.

He smiles and spreads my legs apart again, leaving me exposed and I hear the wretched sound of the vibrator fill the room. There’s no gentle touch, no softness that comes to soothe me, just the horrible, nerve-shattering press of the vibrator against my clit.

My mind breaks. The pleasure explodes out of me but every single muscle of my body stays relaxed, amplifying the unimaginable feeling. There’s nothing to dampen it, no clenching of my legs to make it any better, no cries, moans, whimpers, and screams leaving my throat to distract me. Just the vibrator destroying me.

My orgasm rips through me and he doesn’t relent. Moments later, another orgasm makes my every nerve combust and he only grounds the vibrator harder against me. The next one makes my vision go white and my brain shuts down any higher function and leaves me a shell only capable of experiencing the torturous pleasure. The last orgasm rips through me and tears through my consciousness and my world fades to black.

—

I wake up to a darkened room, clearly a few hours since I passed out, judging by the dusky sunset peeking in through the windows. I’m raw, destroyed, shattered. I desperately will my body to move and I feel my heart jump when my fingers twitch against the bed. My eyes dart around the room, taking in the lack of his presence, and for the first time, I feel hope beat in my chest.

And then, I hear footsteps and see him walk into view. My heart sinks. He’s holding another syringe and he smiles at me. “I see you’re awake, I hope you had a good nap.”

I desperately try to force my body to move but all I get is another pathetic twitch of my fingers. His gaze zeros onto it and he smirks. “Looks like you need a second dose, little bird.”

I want to scream, to beg, to do anything to put up a fight but there’s nothing that can be done. He comes up to the bed and with gentle fingers, pushes the syringe into my hip and presses the plunger down. Tears drip out of my eyes as I fight against my paralyzed body, my fingers still twitching desperately.

A few moments later, even that movement leaves me. He brushes my hair off my forehead and leans down to press a long kiss against my head. “You’re mine forever now, little bird.”

Note: This concept is so hot to me and when I saw a clip of the movie's premise, I knew I had to write this! Hope y'all enjoy! <3

#nsft concept #overstim kink #dark fantasy #cl1t torture #rap3 fantasy #sex and drugs #tw noncon #tw rap3 #rap3fetish #overstim nsft #kidnap fantasy

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steveseddie · 1 month ago

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apply directly to the forehead

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompt: alone | rating: t | wc: 997 | tags: hurt comfort, steve has migraines, eddie takes care of him, hand holding, forehead kisses read on ao3

No one notices when Steve slips out the front door. No one but Eddie, who tells Jonathan he’s going out for a smoke and follows him.

There are only woods around the Hopper-Byers cabin, and the only light comes from the Christmas lights hanging from the roof so it takes a moment for Eddie’s eyes to adjust to the near darkness. He sees Steve sitting on the steps with his head between his knees and taking slow, deep breaths.

“Steve?” Eddie speaks softly, trying not to startle him but Steve still flinches. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Steve mumbles, keeping his head down.

Eddie sits next to him. “Wanna try again? That wasn’t very convincing.”

Steve groans but it’s not his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan, it’s a pained groan.

“‘S just a headache, ‘m fine,” Steve insists but his voice sounds weak.

“Look at me.” Eddie squeezes his knee. “Stevie, please, look at me.”

Steve sighs but lifts his head. Eddie can’t help but wince at how he looks. His face is twisted into a grimace, his skin is paper-white and there are tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Steve. It’s a migraine, isn’t it? A bad one?” He gently brushes some hair off Steve’s face. Steve gives a tiny nod. “When did it start?”

“A few hours ago,” Steve says with a shuddery breath. “While shopping with Robin, all the lights, the music and the crowds–”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

Steve shrugs, then winces. “Didn’t want to worry anyone.”

“Of course not.” That’s why Steve still showed up to the Hopper-Byers Christmas party, knowing there would be loud music and even louder kids, and then forced himself to smile through his pain. Eddie sighs. “C’mon, I’m taking you home.”

“No, Eds–” Steve protests weakly. “I can drive myself-”

Eddie huffs. “Steve, you can’t even keep your eyes open right now.”

“But the party–”

“–will carry on without us,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes. “Wait here, okay?”

Steve sighs and nods, and Eddie squeezes his knee again before heading back inside.

He finds Robin and tells her that Steve isn’t feeling well and he’s taking him home.

“Do you want me to come?” She asks, worried.

“Nah, I got him,” Eddie says. Steve wouldn’t want someone else to leave the party early because of him. “Just tell Hopper I’ll pick up the van tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, thanks, Eddie,” she says with a quick hug.

Outside, Eddie finds Steve leaning against the railing, looking like he’s about to keel over.

“Alright, big boy. Let’s get you home,” he says, leading them to the Beemer.

“No van?”

“Nope. You complain about how fucking loud my van is on a good day. Figured you wouldn’t appreciate it today of all days.”

Steve chuckles weakly. “Admit it, you just want an excuse to drive a cool car for once.”

Eddie scoffs indignantly. “My van is plenty cool, Harrington.”

“Uh huh.”

He sticks his tongue out at Steve and starts the car. The drive to his house is quiet. Eddie turns the radio all the way off, Steve keeps his head against the window and his eyes closed, and Eddie tries his best not to jostle the car too much.

He has to gently shake Steve’s shoulder once they arrive and then he follows him inside.

He goes straight to his bedroom and collapses on the bed, taking his shoes off but leaving his jeans and his ugly Christmas sweater on.

Eddie finds some sleeping clothes and tosses them his way. “Take those jeans off, Harrington.”

Steve huffs. “At least buy me dinner first, Munson,” he says, his hands working on his belt buckle.

Eddie’s cheeks turn pink but with just the moonlight illuminating the room through the curtains, he doubts Steve can see it. “So that’s what it takes to get into Steve Harrington’s pants?”

“Usually,” Steve says, shoving his jeans off before sliding on sweatpants, keeping his movements slow to not make his headache worse. “But for a guy as hot as you, I can make an exception.”

Eddie chokes on his spit. Leave it to Steve to flirt while his head is waging a war against the rest of him.

After changing out of his Christmas sweater, Steve falls back into bed, burrowing his face into his pillow with a groan. The mattress dips when Eddie sits next to him, his back against the headboard. Steve blinks one eye open. “You don’t have to stay, I’m–”

“-in no condition to be alone right now,” Eddie finishes, rolling his eyes.

“You should go back to the party. I didn’t mean to ruin your night–”

“Steve Harrington called me hot. Nothing could ruin my night after that,” he jokes even if there’s some truth to it.

Steve groans– this time it is his ‘Eddie is being annoying’ groan. “I’m gonna regret saying that.”

“Because you didn’t mean it or–”

“Oh, I meant it,” Steve says, rolling to his side and looking up at Eddie through half-lidded eyes that might not have anything to do with his migraine. “But now you can hold it against me.”

“It would be kind of hypocritical of me since I also find you hot,” Eddie says, playing with a rip in his jeans.

Steve’s fingers find his, intertwining them. “If my head wasn’t about to explode I would suggest we do something about that.”

Eddie’s widen. “Something like–”

“Like kissing. Though I could be persuaded to do other things.”

“Jesus,” Eddie says laughing shakily. “Now my head feels like it might explode.”

“We can talk in the morning,” Steve says, shifting until he finds a comfortable position.

“Thought you didn’t want me to stay,” Eddie teases.

“Said you didn’t have to stay, Eds. I always want you here.”

Eddie’s stomach flutters. “Okay,” he says, sliding down until he’s lying next to Steve, their fingers still intertwined.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” Steve whispers, half asleep already.

“Anytime, sweetheart,” Eddie says softly, kissing Steve’s forehead. “Anytime.”

#steddie #steddie fic #steddieholidaydrabbles #stranger things #stranger things fic #soft boys being soft!#steve harrington #eddie munson #monse writes

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autorepairdepew · 2 years ago

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aurynsia · 2 months ago

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what would be the life after hogwarts for james and reader? i can just imagine james thinking of the best ring he could give reader to ask her to marry him, or even like thinking of where they should live in.

Life After Hogwarts

James Potter x Reader

Summary: James won’t settle for anything less than perfect for his perfect girl...

Warnings: Intense fluff, Reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, James is just a good hearted rich boy who wants the best for his partner <3

Word Count: 1.1K

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wrote this as a sequel to this series, but it can just as easily be read as a stand alone oneshot. Enjoy!

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“Pads, please focus here. This is serious!”

“No, I’m Sirius, born and raised! Are you sure you aren’t feeling lightheaded, Prongs?”

James and Sirius stood bent over the cabinet of delicate rings, the latter struggling to free himself from a ring size too small. James huffed in frustration, brows furrowed in contemplation as he glanced across the display one last time.

“None of them feel right, I’m telling you! We‘ll just have to find somewhere else, she won’t like how flashy all of these diamonds are,” James sulked and grumbled as Sirius finally eased the ring off of his nimble finger.

“Prongs, this is the fifth jeweller we’ve been to in the past four hours. Merlin, the sun is already setting and you haven’t even considered a single one of the more than acceptable rings we’ve looked at!”

Sirius scrambled to chase James out of the store, pace quickened along the damp concrete of the sidewalk.

“It needs to be perfect, she’s perfect. I will settle for no less.” James held his head high, nose turned upwards at the raven haired boy who grew visibly sluggish with every step.

Sirius groaned, only following his bespectacled friend for another quick moment before James stopped abruptly at a pawn shop window, eyes bursting wide with hope.

The ring in the window shone elegantly against the store’s harsh light. The metal twisted and turned in a smooth curve that was sure to make your skin glow radiantly in contrast. It was understated, with only the minor details in the engravings making a quiet display of the mountain of money James was about to spend.

“That’s the one. It’s perfect.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

The cool breeze wrapped around the Potter’s summer house with ease, pressing against your skin to form goosebumps along the soft surface.

James had been acting strangely all day, almost avoiding you at every turn of the house’s walls like his life depended on it. He fiddled with his fingers, stuttered out his words and blushed at every subtle sound of amusement you made.

Finally relaxing into your side, James sheltered you from the wind with his body on his family’s beach-side deck. Your evening beverage was pressed between your legs, freeing your hands to run soothing circles over your boyfriend’s back.

His eyes clenched shut, head growing wrinkles as he sought his trademark courage that seemed to all but disappear the moment you were near.

Slowly, tentatively, he lifted his body from your warmth, flashing you a sympathetic smile to compensate for the absolute fool he was about to make of himself.

“Love, I- you mean the world to me…” he turned to face you. “These past years with you have made for some of the happiest moments I’ve ever experienced…” he shifted to lift up onto his knees, gazing down at your curious expression.

“I love you so, so much. I loved you when I first met you, the shy girl on the Hogwarts express. I loved you when we started dating, all smiles over candle lit dinners, and…” He moved again, down on one knee. “I want to keep loving you when you marry me.”

You gasped at the genuine glaze of his soft brown eyes, his lean towards your stationary body, and the ring sat in his grasp, shrouded by a velvet box.

He coughed slightly at the awkward atmosphere, repeating himself with clarity. “Will you…marry me?”

“Godric, James- yes!”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

Fleamont Potter was showering his son with engagement gifts. James never had any reason to complain about his family or economic situation, and to say he grew up comfortably would be a drastic understatement.

House hunting was James’ first protocol after his successful proposal. He had patiently listened to you ramble about your dream house for years, trying to stay focused under your captivating gaze and endearing energy. Big windows, lots of light, and a burning fireplace.

That’s exactly what James was searching for as he strolled down the streets of Godric’s Hollow. He had inspected every single house he could find, taken or not. The day was wearing out, washing lines already dried under the subtle summer heat.

His gaze fell in a wave of sluggish fatigue, only to be snapped open by the sight of a Southern-style mansion positioned right on the edge of Godric’s Hollow, towering over the sidewalk. The house was decorated with shutters and balconies, as well as a small red sign in the front yard.

FOR SALE.

He rushed to the front door, conveniently propped open. “It’s a beautiful place, really, but we’re after something a little more…modern.” A family glided past James in a pack, concluding what he could only assume to be a tour of the house.

The estate agent fixed his tie as he bid farewell to the family, promising something about searching closer to the city the following week. He spun around to find James gawking eagerly at the front door, before clearing his throat to gain the young Potter’s attention.

“Would you like a tour?”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

James flashed you a smug smile as you gazed in awe at the intricate architecture of your new townhouse. You were perched on the front lawn, tucked into James’ side with his hand on the small of your back.

“It’s so beautiful…” you mused wistfully, gaze drawn to the rustic tiles on the roof like sunflowers to the sun. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble, I mean- this must have been an absolute pain to buy…” you finally tilted your gaze to see James peering over you, a lovesick longing painted on his features.

“Love, my father knows people - too many to count - who were more than happy to help with this little engagement gift,” he chuckled, eyes still locked on yours. “When I saw this house for the first time…it was calling your name. Our names.”

The house was big enough to hold a few kids and some small pets - clearly too big for just you and James, but he hoped that your family would fill it out in the coming years. There needed to be room for at least one big black dog.

Still uncertain, you gave James a sceptical look. “It was no trouble, really.” He didn’t wait for a reply as he drove you through the open door by your shoulders.

You stumbled through each room, captivated by the warmth in every corner you turned to. James was hot on your heels, guiding you by your waist every now and then to show you specific features of the kitchen, the bathrooms and the already decorated master bedroom.

You jumped onto the bed with glee, warmth engulfing you under your body.

“Jamie…it’s perfect…” you mused, eyes shut as you felt the bed dip with your Fiancée’s weight, who shifted to kiss your forehead with care.

“You’re perfect, love.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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drkershawltd · 3 months ago

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writingbuckets · 2 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐯

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 2.9k

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in a while, been super busy with finals coming up and thanksgiving break <3

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling city streets. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, your steps quick but unhurried as you made your way to the familiar café. It had become something of a ritual—a brief reprieve from the chaos of your growing platform. Since your last podcast episode, the buzz surrounding “Y/N and Paige” had reached a fever pitch. Fans dissected every word, tone, and pause between you and Paige during her guest appearance, spinning narratives from mere banter. Some took it lightly, treating it like an amusing rivalry, while others speculated wildly about an unspoken connection.

You tried to ignore the noise, but it was impossible to escape the notifications flooding your phone. Clips of the episode went viral, with captions ranging from “This is your sign to ship Y/N and Paige” to “When will Y/N admit she’s obsessed with her?” What started as harmless sports commentary had snowballed into something much bigger—and much messier.

The café door jingled as you stepped in, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You inhaled deeply, savoring the moment of normalcy, before slipping into line. The barista gave you a knowing smile; you were a regular here, and they didn’t need to ask for your order anymore.

As you waited, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, a familiar voice broke through the din.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite podcaster.”

You turned, startled, and there she was—Paige Bueckers, standing just a few feet away, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. She looked impossibly casual, yet every movement radiated confidence. Her hair was pulled back, and the slightest smirk tugged at her lips, giving her an air of effortless charm.

“Bueckers,” you said, keeping your tone steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be practicing or something?”

“Recovery day,” she replied with a shrug. “Coach’s orders. But what about you? Hiding out from your adoring fanbase?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Something like that.”

There was a pause, one that felt weighted despite its brevity. Paige glanced toward the counter, then back at you, her expression softening. “Tell you what,” she said, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make it feel like a private conversation. “This place is nice, but I know a spot around the corner that makes the best sandwiches in the city. Let me take you there. You look like you could use a break from all the chaos.”

You hesitated. Lunch with Paige? It wasn’t the first time you’d crossed paths, but there was something about this invitation that felt… different.

“Alright,” you said finally, unable to resist the hint of vulnerability in her tone. “Lead the way, Bueckers.”

As you stepped outside, walking side by side, you felt a strange sense of ease settling between you. It was surprising how natural it felt, how the tension that had been building for weeks seemed to melt away with each step.

The sandwich shop Paige led you to was small and tucked away, the kind of place you’d never notice unless someone pointed it out. Inside, it smelled like fresh bread and roasted vegetables, the warm, savory aroma instantly calming your nerves.

Paige held the door open for you, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder as you stepped inside. You told yourself it was nothing, just a polite gesture, but your heart betrayed you, quickening its pace.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you teased as you looked around. “This place is a hidden gem.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Paige replied, her grin widening. “Wait until you try the turkey pesto. Life-changing.”

The two of you ordered and found a small table near the window. The conversation started light—sports, favorite foods, the absurdity of social media trends—but quickly delved deeper. Paige was easy to talk to, her quick wit and relaxed demeanor making you forget, if only for a moment, the chaos waiting for you outside.

“So,” she said between bites, her tone casual but her gaze steady. “How’s life in the spotlight treating you?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s… a lot. I didn’t sign up for this whole ‘public figure’ thing. I just wanted to talk about sports, you know? But now, it’s like every little thing I say gets blown out of proportion.”

Paige nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. People love to read into things, make it bigger than it is. But you handle it well—you’re honest, and people respect that. It’s why your podcast works.”

“Honesty doesn’t stop them from turning me into a meme,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Paige chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Memes aren’t so bad. Means you’ve made it.” She paused, her expression softening. “But seriously, if it ever gets to be too much… just say the word. I’ll set the record straight.”

Her words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. There was something about the way she said it—earnest, almost protective—that made your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “But I think I’ll survive. Par for the course, right?”

She smiled, a quiet understanding passing between you. For a moment, the world outside the café—the trending hashtags, the speculative headlines, the invasive questions—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation from other diners filling the comfortable silence.

“So,” Paige said, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her expression was playful, but her tone carried a softness that made your chest tighten. “What’s your go-to escape plan when the world feels a little too loud?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, caught off guard by the intimacy of the question. “Wow, we’re skipping small talk, huh?” you teased, though there was no bite to your tone.

She shrugged, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Small talk feels… boring. And besides, I feel like you’re not exactly the type to waste time talking about the weather.”

You tilted your head, considering her for a moment. “Fair enough. My escape plan?” You glanced out the window, thinking. “I usually just… disappear for a while. Shut off my phone, pick a random spot where no one knows me, and let myself breathe.”

“Alone?” Paige asked, her gaze steady, as if she were trying to piece together something about you.

“Most of the time,” you admitted, fidgeting slightly with your fork. “It’s easier that way. No one to ask questions or expect you to explain why you need a break. It’s just… quiet.”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. Quiet can be hard to find, though.”

“Especially for someone like you,” you countered, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you handle it? The constant attention, the noise?”

Paige leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s a balancing act, honestly. Some days it feels like I’m thriving, and other days…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Other days, I just want to crawl under a rock.”

The honesty in her voice surprised you, and you found yourself leaning in, drawn to the vulnerability she was showing. “So, what’s your escape plan?” you asked softly.

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “When I was a kid, it was basketball. I could lose myself in it for hours. But now…” She shrugged, her smile turning wistful. “Now it’s not that simple. Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s a long drive with no destination. And sometimes,” she said, her gaze locking with yours, “it’s just finding someone who gets it and talking to them.”

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the weight of her words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Does that work?”

“Sometimes,” she said simply, her voice quieter now.

The air between you felt charged, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was as though you were both carefully peeling back layers, exposing just enough of yourselves to keep the conversation honest without feeling too vulnerable.

Paige broke the silence first, her grin returning, though it was softer now. “Okay, your turn. What’s your go-to for cheering yourself up when life gets ridiculous?”

You let out a small laugh, grateful for the shift in tone. “Honestly? Binge-watching terrible reality TV. The trashier, the better. There’s something oddly comforting about watching other people’s drama when yours feels overwhelming.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Let me guess—Love Island?”

“Close,” you said, smirking. “The Bachelor franchise. It’s my guilty pleasure.”

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Wait, are you serious? You’re out here roasting me on a podcast, and yet you willingly watch people argue over roses?”

“Hey!” you protested, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s fascinating. And besides, it’s nice to watch other people’s lives spiral for a change.”

“Fair point,” Paige conceded, laughing again. “I’ll admit, I’ve seen a couple episodes. Pure chaos.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “Pure, unfiltered chaos. It’s the best kind of escape.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer, her smile softening. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “What, because I like bad TV?”

“No,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Because you’re not what I expected.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. For once, Paige had managed to throw you off balance, and the realization brought a small, knowing smile to her face.

“Ready to go?” she asked after a moment, her voice casual again as she reached for the check.

You nodded, still processing the shift in the conversation. As the two of you stood to leave, you couldn’t help but glance at her, wondering what, exactly, she had expected—and why you suddenly cared so much.

**********

By the time you returned home, you felt lighter than you had in days. Paige had a way of making things feel simple, even when they weren’t, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax.

That peace lasted all of two hours.

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with notifications. At first, you ignored it, too tired to deal with whatever fresh drama the internet had conjured. But when the buzzing didn’t stop, curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your social media app, you were greeted by a flood of posts—tweets, Instagram stories, TikTok videos—all revolving around the same thing: a photo of you and Paige at lunch, laughing like you didn’t have a care in the world.

The photo, clearly taken without your knowledge, was candid and undeniably intimate. The way Paige was leaning toward you, her eyes crinkled with laughter, and the way your hand rested on the edge of the table, as if caught mid-gesture—it looked like something straight out of a rom-com.

The captions ranged from playful to outright chaotic:

“Y/N and Paige Bueckers spotted on a secret date? The internet needs answers!”

“Y/N called Paige overrated, and now they’re laughing over sandwiches? We love a plot twist!”

“Enemies to lovers arc confirmed?”

Scrolling through the comments, you saw everything from flame emojis to users jokingly begging for an invite to the wedding. Some fans even made memes comparing the photo to stills from romantic comedies, complete with over-the-top taglines like “From Courtside Critique to Courtside Cuties.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch, groaning. The sheer intensity of the internet's reaction was overwhelming. What was supposed to be a casual lunch now felt like the centerpiece of a media frenzy. Your podcast was supposed to be about sports, not… this.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone, and for a second, you wondered if it could somehow be Paige. But when you opened the door, it was your co-host, coffee in hand and an all-too-knowing grin on her face.

“Thought you might need a caffeine boost,” she said, holding out the cup before stepping inside. “Also, I wanted a front-row seat to your existential crisis.”

You groaned again, collapsing onto the couch. “It’s a circus out there.”

She plopped down beside you, pulling out her phone. “Oh, I know. You’re all over my feed. And, can I just say, that picture? Chef’s kiss. The lighting, the smiles—it’s perfect. Whoever took it deserves an award.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, burying your face in a pillow.

“I mean, come on,” she teased. “You have to admit, it’s kinda cute. The queen of hot takes and the queen of basketball, sharing a meal? It’s like the internet’s dream pairing.”

You peeked out from behind the pillow. “It’s not cute. It’s invasive. I didn’t sign up for this.”

She tilted her head, her tone softening. “No, but you kinda did when you started calling Paige out on the pod. You built this dynamic, whether you meant to or not. And now people are invested.”

You sighed, knowing she was right. “It’s just… my podcast was supposed to be my space, you know? I didn’t think it would spiral into this.”

Before your co-host could respond, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text—from Paige.

Paige: “So… about that photo. Sorry if it’s causing chaos.”Paige: “Also, we’re trending #2 right now. Just ahead of some celebrity breakup, so I guess congrats to us?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. Paige had a knack for disarming you with humor, even when you were spiraling.

You: “Yeah, congrats to us. We’re practically internet royalty now.”Paige: “Want me to make a statement? I can clear the air if this is too much.”

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. The offer was tempting. Paige’s popularity could easily shift the narrative if she addressed the rumors. But a part of you hesitated. Would that make things better or worse?

Your co-host, who had been reading over your shoulder, nudged you. “You should let her say something. It’ll take some heat off you.”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll handle it. Comes with the territory, right?”

Still, you typed back, trying to keep it light: You: “Nah, it’s fine. Let them talk. I’m used to it.”

Paige’s reply came almost immediately: Paige: “Alright, but if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime… don’t let it stress you out too much. You’re good at this.”

You smiled faintly at the screen, her words oddly reassuring.

By the time evening rolled around, the noise online hadn’t died down, but you were determined to push through it. You set up your recording equipment, deciding to address the situation live for your next episode. If nothing else, it would give you a chance to reclaim some control over the narrative.

Your co-host leaned against the desk, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “So, what’s the plan? Are we diving headfirst into the Paige drama, or are you gonna keep it professional?”

You adjusted the mic, smirking. “Why not both?”

When the livestream started, you dove into your usual banter, easing your audience into the episode. But it didn’t take long before you hit the inevitable topic.

“So, let’s address the elephant in the room,” you said, leaning closer to the mic. “Yes, I had lunch with Paige Bueckers. Yes, someone took a picture. And yes, the internet is apparently losing its collective mind over it.”

Your co-host snorted. “Losing their minds is an understatement.”

You continued, your tone carefully measured. “Look, I get it. Paige and I have this… weird dynamic that people seem to find entertaining. But let’s not get carried away. It was just lunch.”

You paused, glancing at your co-host, who was giving you a look that said really?

“Okay, fine,” you added with a smirk. “It was good lunch. Paige has decent taste in food. I’ll give her that.”

The rest of the episode was a mix of humor and genuine reflection. You acknowledged the frenzy without feeding into it, carefully steering the conversation back to your comfort zone: sports.

When the episode ended, the reactions were immediate, and once again, your mentions lit up. But this time, amidst the chaos, there was a surprising amount of support. Fans praised you for addressing the situation head-on, while others couldn’t resist shipping you and Paige even harder.

And then, just as you were about to log off for the night, another message from Paige popped up:

Paige: “Just listened to the episode. Solid take. But next time, give me a heads-up before you roast my food recommendations on-air.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you typed back: You: “Noted. But no promises.”

Paige: “Fair. By the way, I’m free this weekend if you want to give me a chance to redeem myself. Lunch, round two?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you played it cool: You: “We’ll see, Bueckers. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Her reply was instant: Paige: “I never do. But I’m annoyingly persistent, so good luck with that.”

You set your phone down, a small smile tugging at your lips. The noise might not die down anytime soon, but for now, it felt… manageable.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the attention so much anymore.

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn wcbb #wcbb #wlw fanfic #wlw post

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rubiehart · 28 days ago

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thinkin’ about jayj and bsf!reader at poguelandia 2.0 when everyone’s away…

imagine a world where after the pogues get the money for finding el dorado, jj doesn’t spend the stupid amount of money on the maybank property and they get it for a decent amount, so they’ve got a shit ton of money left over for renevations and stock and also, jj’s auto shop.

from all the time he’s spent over the years fixing up his own bike he’s learned quite a bit from himself so he’s pretty much qualified, setting up a little auto shop near the tackle and bait shop, all the locals know it’s the best place to go because he doesn’t rip you off and the service is good, and you love it because you get to watch your man working all day in minimal clothes, grease smattering his tan skin while you kick back on the work bench with a cold one,offering him sips every now and again which he appreciatively takes, always trying to hide his half hard on from everhone customer that comes in when he catches a glimpse of you in his peripheral, shooting daggers at anyone who dares to glance at you when you’re strutting around in bikini tops and daisy dukes, thank god for outer banks scorchers.

so on busier days, you decide to kick back in the house, helping sarah and cleo with dinner or tending to the growing garden with kie, which gives you a little bit of a restriction on seeing jj. so on nights when everyone else is away, just you and jj left on the lot, the others gone on a bait run up the coast, he’s trudging up the stairs with his heavy boots on, whistling absentmindedly to himself as he swipes them off against the welcome mat before letting himself inside.

you’d seen him coming so you’re slinking around the corner into the entryway all sultry and smiley, wearing just one of his shirts, stretched out around the neck to reveal your collarbones and the ‘J’ necklace he’d bought you for your 17th dangling between your tits, and a black thong, sandwiched between the thick globes of your ass as you round the counter to grab yourself a glass from the higher cove, standing on your toes, back naturally arching. you’re looking a little sleepy, and it’s all domestic and warm as your head turns towards him, filling up your glass as you look over your shoulder at him, laughing softly at the way his eyes snap up from your ass at the sound of your voice, cheeks a little blushed. “hi, baby.”

once you’ve taken a sip, jj’s trained on the way the condensation drips down your chin and onto your chest, you’re skipping over to him to greet him properly, immediately you’re met with his strong musk as his strong forearms wrap around your waist to pull you flush against him, you can feel every indent of his muscular chest through his thin wifebeater as you lean up to kiss him gently, melting into him. “hey, pretty girl.” he mumbles against your lips, and you can feel his smile as his light stubble grazes your soft cheeks.

leads to a quiet little conversation in the entry way, bodies smushed together, quiet questions and answers between kisses, a soft, reverent mood that neither of you are in often so it’s nice when it does happen. of course this then to her asking him after a beat of casual silence, hot breath mingling. “you gonna shower?”

“maybe.” he’d teased back softly, fingertips dancing along the curve of your hip, partly from his undiagnosed adhd and partly because of how desperate he was for you.

“only if you’re comin’ with me. water conversion, y’know?” he’d say, flirtatious smile on his face and you can’t help but laugh softly, nose wrinkling as you shake your head.

“y’mean conservation?”

“potato- patato.” he shrugs with a soft smile, calloused hands moving down to give a playful squeeze to the supple cheeks of your ass. “so is that a yes?”

you don’t give yourself a chance to answer before your lips are on his, and he takes the hint immediately, strong arms coming under your thighs to lift you off the floor, your legs immediately coming to wrap around his waist as he carries you off down the hallway, thankful that all the other pogues were out right now or he’d be getting a mouthful off of john b about pda, he never cared though. why should he ever be ashamed about showing everyone how down bad he is for his girl? john b sure wasn’t either. hypocrite.

#꒰ bsf!jj ꒱ྀི #꒰ jj maybank ꒱ྀི #wanna do a part 2 about what happens in the shower…#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #jj obx #jj maybank blurb #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank headcanon #jj maybank obx #obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj maybank fluff

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joelslastofus · 5 months ago

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[SUMMARY: Joel is protective of his alcoholic neighbors daughter.]

PART 3

Mention of Violence and blood. angst

“I see you with a mark again, I ain’t stayin’ back.” He warned you as you quietly walked inside and closed the door.

The next day you woke up realizing a slight bruise forming on your cheek from where your father had smacked you. You sighed wondering how the hell you were supposed to hide that from Joel when you suddenly heard glass break. Closing your eyes as you took a deep breath you heard the sound of more glass breaking. Your father was on a drinking binge like never before, you had no idea what to do.

Knowing Joel was at work you knew you wouldn’t be seen, you did your best sneaking out the front door. A walk into town would’ve done you some good, anything that meant you weren’t near your father.

After roaming around for most of the day and window shopping you got yourself something to eat. Sitting by a window by yourself you thought about how bad things had been lately with your father. This was just suppose to be a nice summer visit, part of you couldn’t wait to go back to your campus yet you knew you couldn’t leave without knowing he was in rehab and so you decided to wait the following semester to go back. Convincing a stubborn man anything was wrong with him wasn’t going to be an easy battle.

Walking towards your house you cursed at yourself when you noticed Joel’s truck pulling in his driveway. He should’ve already been home by now but of course with your luck he wasn’t already inside. He instantly looked up to see if the light in your room was on, he wondered if you were home. He hadn’t spoken to you since he called you the day before after Tommy told him what happened with your father.

Coming out of his truck he noticed you walking down the block with your head down. You knew he would stop you, you hoped that somehow the sun setting would make it harder for him to see the bruise forming.

“Hey, I called you earlier” you looked up hesitantly relieved to see he was still far enough to not notice.

“Yeah, uh sorry. I had a busy day” you smiled quickly just as you turned to your porch.

“Hang on a second” he some how caught up fast enough to take hold of your arm. You stood still before giving in and looking up at him.

His face changed instantly.

Although you didn’t know, of course he knew the truth of what happened to you yet he still didn’t expect to see evidence of what your father had done. He hadn’t spoken to Tommy after he got off the phone with you the night before but he more than ever he wanted to knock some sense into his brother. How could he have seen you in trouble and not done a thing?

“Look he’s never done this before” your quick attempt to defend your father’s actions only pissed him off.

“Where is he?” He asked as he turned your face slightly to the side to get a better look at the bruise.

“I-I don’t know, Joel. Look I’m fine ok-“

“Like hell you are” he snapped, anger fuming through him. He controlled himself when he noticed your reaction to his tone.

“Why didn’t cha call me?”

“For what? To hear you like this. We had a disagreement and-“

“A disagreement? Ya gotta be kidding me” he whispered looking behind him to make sure Sarah hadn’t come out.

“I’m gonna have him go to rehab, Joel. Just let me talk to him-“

“No. Not alone-“

“Joel” you whispered.

“Hey dad, everything ok?” Sarah’s voice startled the both of you making him turn back.

“Yeah, honey. I’ll be inside in a minute” he assured her.

“I’ll be fine, Joel. I’ll wait until he’s sober to talk. We should just…keep our distance for a bit. Go inside” you proceeded to walk up your front lawn as he took a step back with his hands on his hips.

“I see you with a mark again, I ain’t stayin’ back.” He warned you as you quietly walked inside and closed the door.

“You ok, dad?” Sarah asked as she walked in the house in front of Joel. She looked back noticing how he stayed looking out the window as he walked to the kitchen.

“Yeah, honey. Everything’s fine,” he responded without looking at her.

“Dad” her tone making him look down at her.

“Everything’s fine” he assured her before pulling her in and kissing her forehead just as Tommy walked in.

“Uh, sweetheart, why don’t cha finish up your homework while I have a word with uncle Tommy” Sarah nodded as she smiled to her uncle and walked into her room closing the door.

“What I do now big brother, leave a box of pizza on the counter?” The playful tone in Tommy’s voice only making Joel lose his patience. Without thinking he walked around the table and grabbed his brother by his collar and slammed him into the wall.

“Hey! Easy man!”

“How the hell could you not help her?!”

“What?!” Tommy asked confused.

“Y/n, her father hit her and you just turned away” he slammed him against the wall once again making Tommy wince. Sarah could hear her father upset but she knew better than to leave the room.

“I don’t know her like that, Joel! I don’t know what that man is on!”

“Ya ain’t gotta know a woman to help her dammit, she needed your help!”

“Why the hell do you ever care so much?!” Tommy yelled back. Joel stood silent, his lip quivering as he looked at his brother in disgust.

“We were raised better than that, you know better than that” Joel whispered.

“You ever see her in trouble again you stop what you’re doin’ and ya help her. Got it” he clenched his teeth together as Tommy quickly nodded. Joel released his brother roughly and walked into the room.

Weeks went by as Joel cautiously watched for any sign of any kind of disturbance. Some days your father was sober but most of the time he was drunk. A part time summer job kept you distracted for the time being. Talking to him about rehab seemed harder than you expected and so you delayed your approach.

One Saturday morning you woke up to music blaring loudly throughout the house. Your head throbbing you turned around and sighed just as a wave of nausea hit you like you had never felt before.

“What the hell” you whispered as you slowly got on your feet.

“Jesus Christ dad,” Rubbing your eyes you walked out into the living room to find no one was there.

“He would do this” you whispered to yourself as you turned to shut off the music. Just as you did your father’s voice made you jump.

“Hey, I was listening to that” he walked in with a beer in hand.

“Dad it’s my day off, I’m trying to sleep” you sighed walking into the kitchen.

“It’s the 15th already aren’t you suppose to be back at your campus?” He asked with irritation, clearly he wanted you gone.

“Dad I’m-“ you suddenly froze realizing he said it was the 15th.

“What day is it?” You asked running to your planner that sat at on the counter.

“The 15th, your classes are probably already started” he continued to talk as you opened your book and realized you were four days past your period being due. Your father continued to talk but somehow you zoned him out, you felt sick to your stomach.

This couldn’t be right.

Getting dressed and making your way to the door you ignored your father mumbling things you could barely understand. Your head not in the right place as you quickly made your way to your father’s car. The thought of being pregnant made you begin to hyperventilate as you slammed the car door. You had been taking your birth control strictly every day you couldn’t understand why this happened.

And if you were, this meant you had to tell Joel, the thought of what his reaction might be only making you panic more.

Grabbing what you needed from the pharmacy and getting back into the car you sped back home eager to take the test. So eager to run in and take the test, you never noticed Joel sitting on his porch as you pulled up. Joel had respected your request and kept his distance but he never stopped thinking of you or watching to make sure you were ok. Thankfully he never saw much of your father, Joel seeing him wouldn’t have done him any good. Just as you came out of the car Joel stood up and made his way towards you.

“Hey” Joel’s voice made your heart skip a beat. You looked up to see him walking in your direction before he stopped right before you.

“I know ya told me to give you space but I just…I wanna make sure you’re alright” he whispered as you stood still holding the plastic bag that held your box of pregnancy tests.

“I know, Joel. I-“ just as you began to speak you both turned to the sound of your front door opening and your drunk father stepping out.

“Where’s my beers?” He asked in snotty tone as you looked at him confused. Joel flared his nostrils at the sight of your father for the first time since he learned that he put his hands on you.

“Dad, I didn’t get any. Please get inside” you spoke softly hoping he would listen.

“Come on, wheres my fucking beers…” he slurred as he came towards you. Joel instantly stepping before you as you tried to pull him back by his arm.

“It’s fine, Joel-“ your father suddenly yanked the bag you held.

“Give me my drinks-“

“Stop it!” You pulled back when the bag broke and out fell the very thing you didn’t want him to see.

“You’re good for nothing!” Your father waved his hand at you, too drunk to notice a thing and walked back inside. Joel stood still looking at the box on the ground as you stood silently. He didn’t say a word as he picked up the box before looking directly into your eyes.

“I’m not sure-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispered coldly.

“Because I’m not sure, Joel” you lied. Deep down you knew it, you knew you were pregnant. Never had you been late before.

“I would’ve had you out of there a long time ago-“

“Look, Joel I…I don’t know anything yet and-“

“But cha think you are don’t ya” his response leaving you speechless. Looking down at your fingers you felt a knot in your throat as you held back tears.

“Well ya ain’t goin’ back in there with him that’s for sure”

“What?” You looked up at him confused.

“Joel, I can’t just leave. Look I was going to talk to him tomorrow about rehab it’s been hard to bring it up.”

“Let me talk to him” he insisted.

“No!” You grabbed the box out of his hands.

“This is my problem-“

“Not if you’re carrying my kid” he whispered low close to your face. Swallowing nervously you took a step back and turned to your house. Joel quietly watched feeling helpless, his breathing was heavy watching you close the door behind you. The anxiety he felt was an anxiety he wasn’t familiar with. Turning back to his house he slammed the door shut to find Tommy on the couch.

“You alright?”

“Mhm” he walked straight to his room slamming the door shut once again not wanting to speak. Talking wasn’t his thing when he was pissed like this and Tommy knew it.

Feeling so many mixed emotions you went up to your room and took one test out of the box. Your father was distracted screaming at the tv during a game and so you took advantage and went to the bathroom.

Minutes never felt so long like they did in this moment. Holding your breath you paced back and fourth until finally time was up. Taking slow steps towards the test that sat on the counter you hesitantly leaned forward to see two bright pink lines.

“Oh fuck!” You turned around quickly holding in your tears just as your father began to bang on the door.

“Hurry up, I gotta take a piss!” He yelled. Quickly you took hold of the test making sure there was no evidence of anything else and opened the door. Walking past him as fast as you could you made your way to your room and locked the door shut.

Joel sat on his bed looking down at the floor as he thought over the possibility of you being pregnant. None of this was suppose to happen, he never meant for things to quickly escalate the way they did but the feelings Joel knew he had for you, wasn’t a lie.

The next day Joel tried calling you but you ignored his call while you were at work. You knew you had to tell him, your conscience couldn’t let you lie to him.

Joel rushed home from work hoping to catch you out front but you had already been inside. Calling your phone repeatedly you muted it and threw it under your pillow.

“God dammit!” Joel hissed and walked inside. The unknown was driving him insane yet you felt you couldn’t face him just yet. Telling him you were pregnant would only make everything more real and you didn’t know how much of it you could handle.

That night you could barely got any sleep and in the morning you felt sick. Your father once again leaving a mess for you to pick up, you sighed as you found him passed out on the couch.

“Today we’ll have the talk, today it is” you whispered to yourself, you waited long enough to tell your dad about rehab. Picking up garbage from the floor made you sick to your stomach, quickly you turned and threw up in the garbage bag behind you.

With little to no energy in you, you picked up the garbage bags and dragged it outside. Joel noticed you just as he got out of his truck and paced quickly towards you.

“Gonna keep ignorin’ me” he called out as he walked towards you, the second you looked up he noticed how pail you were. His look of frustration quickly changed to concern.

“You alright, what’s the matter” he closed the distance between you two lifting your chin up with his index finger.

“I’m fine…it’s just…-“

“Just what?” He asked eagerly.

“It’s morning sickness, Joel.”

Although a part of him felt you were pregnant, it was still different to hear you confirm it.

“Well then you should be in bed dammit, not pickin’ up your father’s trash” he took the bags out of your hands and threw them into the bin.

“Well, I can’t leave the house dirty” you explained with a sigh.

“Where is he?” He looked towards your door hoping he wasn’t home.

“He asleep, on the couch. He’s out cold”

“You should be in bed”

“I have work”

“Quit, stay in bed. I don’t want cha like this out and about-“ you began to laugh with your hand on your chest.

“The hell is so funny?” He asked stepping forward.

“You, you expect me to just quit my job?”

“I’ll take care of ya” he insisted, you turned serious realizing he was serious.

“Joel, I’m not doing that. I need to work and help my father” you explained.

“I don’t want cha doin’ all this while you’re pregnant”

“I never said I was staying pregnant” you blurt out catching him off guard. He stood silent for a moment unsure with how to respond.

“What happened with us wasn’t suppose to happen, we should’ve never slept with each other. I appreciate the help you’ve given me while dealing with my father but that’s all it was suppose to be-you helping out a neighbor. Not me getting pregnant”

“I ain’t plan it to be this way if that’s what cha think, I was really just trynna make sure you were alright” he explained.

“Joel, I have to get back to my campus soon…I can’t…I can’t do this”

“I can help you” Tommy walked out the front door making Joel look behind him.

“We’ll talk later” you sighed as you walked off. He didn’t say a word and simply turned to Tommy who raised a brow wondering what was going on.

Just before you left to work your father woke up and he was sober. You knew this was it, it was now or never to speak to him about rehab.

He stood in the kitchen taking Tylenol as you placed your purse over your shoulder and hesitantly got his attention.

“Dad” he winced from the pain of his headache.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, um…about all of this…” your words catching his attention.

“Look I know I’ve been drinking a lot lately but I’m slowing down-“

“No you’re not.” You quickly disagreed.

“Dad you need to go to rehab” you blurt out as you squeezed your eyes shut worried about his reaction.

“Rehab?”

“Yes, there’s a program for three months I already looked into-“

“You signed me up?”

“Not yet” you whispered. You could see the hesitance in his eyes.

“You’re not yourself when you’re drunk, dad you hit me the other day and you’ve never done that before” he looked at you shocked. He had no idea how bad things had actually turned.

“If it makes you happy I’ll do it.” He finally agreed making you let out a breath of relief.

For the first time in a while you felt a huge weight off your shoulders.

At work your mind still wandered off thinking about Joel, thinking about your pregnancy and what was the right thing to do. With nausea and migraines through out the day, you couldn’t wait to get home and sleep.

On your way home Joel called you just as you reached your front lawn. Him asking if he could see you was something you weren’t sure was a good idea in this moment but you gave in.

“How ya feelin’?” He walked towards you with a look of concern.

“Just tired” you responded softly. You could tell he had a lot to say but didn’t know how to start.

“Listen, whatever you do…I’m here alright. I wanna be there for you”

“Oh, Joel” you smiled in relief.

“Thank you” support was all you truly wanted.

“My father is going to rehab, I spoke to him this morning” you looked towards your front door.

“Oh yeah?” Joel pressed his lips together, he didn’t trust it. His expression changed once you looked back up at him.

“Thank you for being there for me, Joel. I promise we will talk more about this.” you unexpectedly reached towards him and hugged him. Joel froze for a moment before wrapping his arms around you.

“I just want cha safe” he whispered.

“I am” you assured him before taking a step back not knowing that your father was at the window, watching the both of you behind the blinds.

“I’ll text you later” you spoke softly and left to your house.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you as you walked inside. Something left him unsettled, he didn’t trust a man who could put his hands on a woman, drunk or not. He walked backwards back to his driveway and began cleaning out his truck.

“Dad, I’m home” you called out as you walked to the kitchen to be caught off guard by a half empty bottle of whiskey. You sighed with disappointment as your father walked into the kitchen.

“Dad-“

“So this is what you do after I pay all that money for your tuition” his words confusing you.

“What?”

“Don’t play stupid with me, you and this guy-“

“What guy?!”

“Miller” Joel’s name made your heart stop.

“Dad, it’s not-“

“You sure?” He threw your left over box of pregnancy tests across the counter at you. You gasped, standing speechless as he made his way around the counter and cornered you against the wall.

“You pregnant, little girl?”

“I am not a little girl” you whispered.

“Are you pregnant?!” He slammed his hand on the counter beside you making you jump. Your silence was enough to give him an answer, he turned away throwing a large glass vase by the window. The sound of the glass shattering making Joel look up. Joel immediately walked towards your house trying to look through the windows but couldn’t see a thing. He began to call your name making your father’s eyes widen.

“Joel, I’m fine!” You yelled out but he could hear the fear in your voice.

“Open the door!” He wiggled the door knob to no avail. Your father angrily grabbed your face with his hand making you scream as Joel began running his shoulder into the door.

“You think you’re gonna act like a whore while I’m paying for your college and just throw it all away!” He yelled angrily.

“Dad! I’m not throwing it away!” You screamed in defense when the front door broke open. In ran Joel to see your father’s hand on you as you stood still.

“Let her go” he spoke with a threatening tone. Your father turned to him as he stumbled before reaching for his bottle of whiskey and taking another sip.

“You think I’m gonna let her keep that thing”

“Dad-“

“Shut up!” He roughly pulled you by your hair in front of him making Joel step forward. You screamed as he yanked your head back.

“You know what? You want her, you could have her” he threw you across the floor towards Joel. Joel quickly crouched down to you helping you up without taking his eyes off your father.

“You alright? You ok?” He asked just as Tommy walked in shocked to see his brother in the middle of everything.

“Joel, what’s goin’ on?”

“Take her inside” Joel instructed as he walked towards your father.

“Joel- no-“

“Make sure she’s ok, keep her inside and call a damn ambulance” Tommy did just as he was told and pulled you out of the house while you cried.

“What’s he gonna do?” You asked looking back. Tommy knew the damage his brother could do but didn’t say a word.

Your father laughed as he finished up his bottle of liquor.

“What are you gonna do asshole?” Joel waited for you to walk into his home before grabbing your father and head butting him hard. Blood instantly gushed from your father’s nose as he went down to the ground. Grabbing your father by his collar with his fist in the air, Joel wanted to do more but the man could barely defend himself at this point and he knew how much it would hurt you. Leaving him unconscious he took a step back with a deep breath. Hearing the ambulance close by he left the door open and walked out back to his house. Joel knew you would all be questioned once they arrived but he didn’t care.

“Is he ok? What happened?” You ran up to Joel desperately.

“You alright? You feel alright? I want em to check you before they leave.” He ignored your questions and unexpectedly placed his hand on your stomach making Tommy realize just what was going on. Sarah came out of the room confused when multiple ambulances came crashing into the street. Police cars pulled up as you looked out the window confused when a man beside your house walked out into the street. Cops instantly came out there cars and hid behind their doors aiming their guns.

“The hell is going on?” Tommy whispered when the man suddenly ran towards the cops. Gunshots went off making you jump as Joel quickly locked the door shut as you all watched in shock with what was happening.

“Oh my God!” You gasped, the man was shot at multiple times yet kept running. The rest of your neighbors peaking out their windows when finally the man was shot dead.

“Ladies and gentleman please stay inside, lock your doors. Do not come out until you’re told” an officer announced through a microphone.

“What’s happening, dad?” Sarah asked with wide worried eyes.

“I don’t know, baby.” Joel proceeded to close the windows not wanting his daughter to see anything else.

“What about my dad” you whispered but before he could respond more gunshots went off making you and Sarah jump and the lights went out…

Just like that it was the beginning of a massive disruption that would turn everyone’s world as they knew it upside down more than you already felt it was….

*tagging for some reason isn’t working for me but I’ll figure it out soon. No one’s name is coming up.*

#pedro pascal #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller angst #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n

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goldfades · 2 months ago

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oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home; and at your best, you were magic, we were sold; so don't tell them what you told me; don't even tell them that you know me; i would rather burn forever, but you should know that i died slow, running through the halls of your haunted home; merry christmas, please don't call; merry christmas, i'm not yours at all ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige had been the kind of love story everyone admired from afar: picture-perfect in the daylight, chaotic behind closed doors. it wasn't her fault, not entirely. paige had her own ghosts, shadows you couldn’t chase away. but this Christmas, as the snow falls in connecticut and the ache of her absence presses like a bruise against your ribs, you realize you can't keep bleeding for someone who won’t stop breaking.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SOULCRUSHING ANGST W/ NO HAPPY ENDING!! pazzi mention, paige being a PLAYER and descriptions of anger (directed at reader), manipulation (?), just overall angsty

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i've been listening to merry christmas, please don't call so i just HAD to make an angsty paige fic, i hope yall enjoy! (im so sorry for this fic)

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it wraps the world in glitter and glassy snow, fooling you into believing anything could be beautiful if you squint hard enough. The kind of month where people hold hands and drink too-sweet cocoa, and you’re left standing under a streetlamp that flickers like a pulse—waiting for a call you know better than to answer.

You tuck your hands into your coat, biting back the cold. Connecticut is quieter than you remember, or maybe it’s just your corner of the city. Paige isn’t here to fill the space with that too-bright laughter that used to feel like sunshine and now feels like static in your chest.

The coffee shop across the street is closing for the night. You watch the barista flip the sign, your reflection ghosted in the fogged window. It looks like someone else—someone better, someone softer, someone who could’ve saved her.

But you couldn’t save Paige. Not from herself. Not from the carousel of pressure and pain that spins faster than either of you can jump off.

The two of you had been magnetic once. You couldn’t say it was perfect—it never was—but there had been a time when Paige made the air around her shimmer like heat on asphalt. Everyone wanted to be near her, but you were the one she chose. At least, that’s how it felt in the beginning.

The story of you and Paige wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be, not with how bright her world burned, how impossible it was to separate the good from the bad, the joy from the heartbreak. It all started with her charm—effortless and magnetic, the kind that made you believe she could do anything.

You met during her sophomore year at UConn, the same year her name became synonymous with excellence. She’d smile at you during study sessions, her sneakers squeaking against the gym floor as she absentmindedly dribbled a basketball while you worked on assignments. Her laugh was a sound you could pick out of a crowd, bright and airy, like it didn’t belong in a world this heavy.

The early days were golden. Paige had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room, her attention sharp and unwavering. She'd surprise you with late-night drives to nowhere, the car filled with the smell of takeout and the sound of her carefully curated playlists. She'd drape her hoodie over your shoulders when the Connecticut winters bit too hard, her hands brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

She wasn’t just a basketball prodigy to you; she was Paige, the girl who could quote Parks and Recreation word for word, who cried during Marley & Me, who kissed you for the first time under a canopy of stars in a parking lot after a particularly grueling practice.

You learned quickly that loving Paige meant loving her ambition, her relentless drive. But it also meant loving her through her shadows—the doubt that crept in after a bad game, the pressure that clung to her like a second skin. At first, you thought you could handle it. You thought your steady presence could be her anchor.

But Paige’s world was intense, overwhelming, and sometimes suffocating. There were moments when she’d retreat into herself, shutting you out completely. Nights when she’d sit in silence for hours, staring at the wall, her thoughts a storm she refused to share.

“I’m fine,” she’d say, her voice clipped, whenever you tried to reach her. “It’s just basketball. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you knew it. It was the weight of the world on her shoulders, the unspoken expectation to be perfect, to never falter. And sometimes, that weight turned her into someone you didn’t recognize—distant, sharp-edged, unreachable.

There were good days, though. The kind of days that made you believe you could weather anything together. The way she’d look at you like you hung the moon after a big win, her joy infectious and radiant. The soft kisses she’d press to your forehead when she thought you were asleep, the whispered promises that everything would be okay.

But the cracks in the foundation grew wider as time went on. Paige didn’t know how to lean on you—didn’t know how to share the parts of herself that weren’t shiny and triumphant. And you, in turn, didn’t know how to break through the walls she built so carefully around her heart.

The arguments started small: missed dates, unanswered texts, her constant insistence that she “needed space.” But they grew sharper, uglier, as the stress of her career bled into every corner of her life. You tried to be patient, to understand that her world was chaotic in ways yours wasn’t.

“I’m trying,” you told her one night, your voice breaking after yet another fight about her shutting you out. “But I can’t keep doing this if you won’t let me in.”

Her response was cold, distant: “Maybe I don’t need you to fix everything for me.”

It was the beginning of the end.

The good moments became fewer, swallowed whole by the tension that never seemed to fade. Paige became harder to reach, her laughter rarer, her smiles strained. She’d come home late, exhausted and short-tempered, and you’d sit across from her at the kitchen table, wondering when you stopped feeling like her partner and started feeling like a stranger.

And love, real love, isn’t just about the good moments.

The cracks began to show in small ways. The way she’d go silent when you asked how she was really feeling after a rough game. The forced smile she’d wear in public, only to collapse into your arms behind closed doors, her exhaustion radiating off her in waves. Paige didn’t talk about the pressure—not really. She’d shrug it off with a joke or brush it aside with a kiss, but you could feel it in the way she clenched her fists when she thought no one was looking.

And then there was the anger.

It didn’t show up at first, not in ways you could name. Paige was too composed, too practiced at keeping herself in check, her emotions folded neatly into the corners of her well-rehearsed smile. But over time, the cracks in her composure grew sharper, splintering into moments she couldn’t quite hide.

You remember the first time it caught you off guard. It was late November, and the two of you were walking back to her apartment after a grueling game. Paige had played well—at least, that’s what everyone kept telling her. She’d drained three-pointers with a precision that seemed almost effortless, threading passes that left defenders spinning. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Paige.

“I should’ve done more,” she muttered, her voice low but heavy with frustration. You glanced at her, confused.

“Paige, you scored 26 points,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I think that qualifies as doing more.”

She stopped walking, her breath fogging in the cold air. Her jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, and the sharpness in her voice cut through you like a knife.

You blinked, taken aback. “Then help me get it,” you said carefully, stepping closer. But she only shook her head, her hands buried deep in her pockets.

“Forget it,” she muttered, and the conversation ended there.

But the tension lingered.

It wasn’t always so direct. Sometimes it was the way she’d sigh too loudly when you asked her a simple question, or the way she’d press her fingers to her temples when you suggested she take a break. Other times, it was silence—the kind that stretched too long and settled too heavy between you, a chasm you didn’t know how to cross.

And yet, there were still moments of sweetness. Paige was never just one thing. She’d show up at your door with takeout after you’d had a rough day, or pull you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as though she could shield you from everything. She’d kiss the top of your head and whisper things like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and for a while, you believed her.

But the anger didn’t go away. It grew, festering in the quiet corners of your relationship until it felt like a third presence in the room. It wasn’t directed at you—not always—but it seeped into everything.

You’d watch her pace the living room after a game, her movements restless and sharp, her hands running through her hair. She’d mutter under her breath about missed shots, bad calls, and how the team deserved better. You tried to comfort her, to remind her that she was enough, but your words never seemed to stick.

“Stop,” she’d say, cutting you off mid-sentence. “You don’t have to fix this. Just… let me be.”

You told yourself it wasn’t personal. That she wasn’t mad at you, but at the weight she carried, the expectations that pressed down on her until she couldn’t breathe. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming collateral damage.

The fights started small—little disagreements over nothing. Where to eat, what movie to watch, whether she could manage to take one damn day off. But they escalated quickly, her voice rising in frustration, yours trying to keep up.

“I’m trying to help you,” you said one night, your voice cracking under the strain.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “You think you can just fix everything? Newsflash: you can’t.”

Her words hit you harder than they should have. Maybe because deep down, you’d started to believe she was right.

The nights after those fights were the hardest. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence between you louder than any argument. Paige would sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, the weight of her regret pressing her down. She never apologized—not with words, anyway. Her apologies came in the form of a soft kiss on your shoulder, a whispered “goodnight” that barely reached your ears.

But you started to wonder if love was supposed to feel this heavy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love her. God, you loved her. Even when she was angry, even when she pushed you away, even when the weight of her world started to crush you, too. But love wasn’t enough to keep you from drowning.

The night it all came crashing down, the snowstorm outside was unforgiving, a whiteout swallowing the world whole. You stood in Paige’s apartment, the dim light of her living room casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The heater rattled and hissed, struggling to keep the space warm, but it couldn’t touch the frost between you.

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands gripping her hair so tightly you thought she might pull it out. Her breathing was uneven, each inhale sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said finally, her voice cracking on the last word.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of her statement hitting you square in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, but tonight it felt different. Final.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your own voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it.

She looked up at you then, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face a mask of exhaustion. “It means I’m tired,” she said. “Of… of everything. Of trying to be everything for everyone and failing every single time.”

“Paige,” you began, stepping closer, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, and the venom in her voice made you stop in your tracks.

“I’m not one of them,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Paige. I’ve never asked that of you.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it made your stomach churn. “But you expect me to be okay,” she said, her words like knives. “You expect me to keep it together, to let you in, to… to lean on you like that’s supposed to fix anything.”

“Is that such a terrible thing?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “To want you to let me help? To not have to feel like I’m walking on eggshells every second I’m around you?”

Paige stood abruptly, her sudden movement startling you. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ll never get it. You don’t know what it’s like to have the whole damn world waiting for you to screw up. To know that no matter what you do, it’s never gonna be enough.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring you to respond.

“You’re right,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to love you, and to feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked at you like she wanted to say something. But then her expression hardened, her walls slamming back into place.

“Maybe you’re not,” she said, the words so quiet they almost didn’t register. Almost.

You froze, your heart dropping into your stomach. “What?”

Her eyes were cold now, her shoulders tense. “Maybe you’re not enough,” she repeated, louder this time. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t feel like this all the time. I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk away.”

Paige turned away from you, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean it,” she muttered, but the damage was already done.

“Yes, you did,” you said, and the finality in your tone made her turn back to face you. “You meant it, Paige. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not enough for you. But I’ve been trying. I’ve been here, through everything, while you’ve been pushing me away and blaming me for things I can’t control.”

She didn’t respond, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her neck.

“You want to be alone so badly?” you said, your voice breaking. “Fine. Be alone. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paige didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. And that silence said more than words ever could.

You grabbed your coat, your movements mechanical as you headed for the door. Your fingers fumbled with the handle, but before you stepped out into the freezing night, you turned back one last time.

“I loved you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hope you know that.”

And then you left.

The cold hit you like a slap in the face, but it didn’t compare to the hollow ache in your chest. You walked away from her building, your breaths coming out in shaky puffs of air, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But as you disappeared into the snowstorm, you couldn’t shake the image of Paige standing in that living room, alone with her anger and the ghosts she refused to let go of.

It was summer in Connecticut, the kind of evening where the world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a twilight haze. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the small lake where Paige had driven you after practice. She had her hand on the back of your neck, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin as you leaned against her car, watching the water ripple in the breeze.

“This is the spot,” she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

“The spot for what?” you asked, turning to face her.

“For when it gets too heavy.”

Paige rarely talked about the weight she carried—her expectations, her relentless drive to be more, to be better. But you could feel it in her sometimes, the way she’d go quiet after games or the way her smile would falter when she thought no one was looking.

You followed her gaze out over the lake. It was still, reflecting the sky like a mirror, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, safer. Paige tilted her head back against the car, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath.

“You ever feel like you’re just… spinning?” she asked softly.

“Like everything’s moving too fast, and you can’t get off?”

She opened one eye, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, like that.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the stillness like the first notes of a song. “All the time.”

Paige turned to you then, really turned, her gaze heavy and intense in that way that always made your heart stutter. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered, her fingertips brushing against your cheek.

“You make it stop,” she said, so quietly you almost missed it.

“Make what stop?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, her other hand cutting through the air like she was trying to grab hold of something intangible. “The spinning. The noise.”

Her eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, you felt the full weight of her, the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. Paige Bueckers—the golden girl, the superstar—looked at you like you were the only thing holding her together.

And maybe you were.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this carousel, you know? Like I can’t get off, even when I want to. But when I’m with you…”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “When you’re with me, what?”

“I forget about it,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “I forget about everything else.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the two of you wrapped in a quiet moment that felt too fragile to last. Paige’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the soft rise and fall of your breaths.

“Promise me something,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your temple.

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave. No matter how bad it gets, don’t leave.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your heart breaking at the vulnerability etched across her face. “I won’t,” you said, the words heavy with meaning.

Paige kissed you then, slow and deep, her hands framing your face like you were something sacred. And for a moment, the world did stop spinning.

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars began to flicker into view, you lay on the hood of her car, her arm wrapped tightly around you. She traced constellations in the sky with her finger, whispering their names like secrets only you were meant to hear.

It was moments like this that made leaving unthinkable. Paige could be selfish, distant, and infuriating, but she was also this—the girl who made you feel like the center of her universe, if only for a little while.

And that’s why, even now, with the carousel spinning faster than ever, you knew that if she called, you’d pick up. You’d step back into the whirlwind, the heavy gaze, the endless cycle.

Because Paige had a way of making you believe in the calm between storms, in the stillness of a summer night by a lake that felt like it belonged only to you.

Paige had this way about her—a pull that felt almost gravitational. It wasn’t just her talent, though that was undeniable. It wasn’t even her looks, though you’d be lying if you said her golden hair and sharp blue eyes didn’t make your stomach flip every time she turned that full-force charm your way. It was something deeper, something intangible. Paige made you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. Especially when you didn’t want to be.

She’d waltz into a room like she owned it, every movement effortless, every smile calculated but somehow still genuine. Paige Bueckers had the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance, but with you, it softened. She let you see behind the curtain—the cracks in her armor, the moments when the golden girl wasn’t so golden.

And God, those moments were everything.

You remember one night in particular, when the weight of everything had been too much for her. The team had just lost a game they were expected to win, and Paige had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire bus ride back. You’d waited until everyone else had cleared out of the locker room before approaching her, unsure if she even wanted you there.

But the second she saw you, something in her crumbled.

“I can’t,” she’d whispered, her voice shaking as she sank onto the bench. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t say anything, just sat down beside her and pulled her into your arms. She clung to you like a lifeline, her tears soaking into your shirt as you ran your fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances.

It was moments like that when you realized just how deeply Paige had wormed her way into your heart. She wasn’t just the superstar everyone else saw; she was vulnerable, complicated, and so achingly human. And she trusted you with that side of her—a side no one else got to see.

But it wasn’t just the heavy moments that kept you tied to her. It was the good ones, too—the nights she’d show up at your door unannounced with takeout and a goofy grin, insisting that you needed a break from studying. The way she’d drag you to the park at midnight just to lay on the grass and stargaze, her hand intertwined with yours as she pointed out constellations you’d never heard of.

It was the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

Paige had a way of making every moment feel electric. When she kissed you, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was an event. Her hands would cradle your face like you were made of glass, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. And when she smiled at you afterward, that lazy, lopsided grin that was so uniquely hers, it felt like the world had been set right again.

You knew it wasn’t healthy. Paige could be selfish, possessive even. She wanted you on her terms, when it was convenient for her, when she needed someone to hold her up. And you let her, because when Paige loved you—even if it was only halfway—it felt like the sun had risen just for you.

You told yourself that you were the one who truly knew her, the one who saw the real Paige beneath the accolades and the golden glow. And maybe that was true. But knowing her didn’t make it hurt any less when she started to pull away.

Because Paige Bueckers had a chokehold on you, and no matter how much you wanted to let go, you knew you never really could. Even now, with everything that had happened, all it would take was one call, one look, and you’d be hers again, no questions asked.

That was the thing about Paige—she was a storm, unpredictable and destructive, but you couldn’t help but stand in the rain, hoping for just a little more sunlight.

The air was thick with warmth and laughter, the kind of joy that buzzed around a room full of people who felt like family. Paige had insisted you come to the team hangout, her eyes softening in that way that always made it impossible to say no.

"It'll be fun," she had promised, lacing her fingers through yours. "And Azzi will be there, so you won't feel out of place."

You swallowed back the irony now, standing on the fringes of the crowded living room as Paige and Azzi shared a quiet laugh across the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them together, their bond growing closer in ways that should’ve been comforting. It should have made you feel secure—Paige having someone who understood her world, who could shoulder the weight of the same pressures.

But it didn’t.

It hurt.

Azzi’s laugh was the same pitch as Paige’s, soft and genuine. The way Paige leaned in when she spoke, her eyes crinkling at the corners, was painfully familiar. You’d seen that look a thousand times before—directed at you. Once.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your drink warming in your hand as you watched them. It wasn’t just the way they talked, like no one else was in the room, or the casual touch of Paige’s hand against Azzi’s arm. It was the comfort, the ease. The way Paige smiled at her, unguarded and free.

You’d been here before. In the passenger seat of her car during late-night drives. On her couch, curled up with her hoodie draped around your shoulders. Sharing secrets that felt too heavy to speak aloud. It was supposed to be your safe space—yours and Paige’s.

Now, watching her light up for someone else, you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost. A witness to something that wasn’t meant for you anymore.

Azzi said something that made Paige throw her head back in laughter, her hand brushing Azzi’s knee as she doubled over. The sound echoed in your chest like a bullet ricocheting off hollow walls.

And you died slow.

The walls of this house weren’t hers, but they may as well have been. Paige had a way of haunting every space she occupied, leaving pieces of herself in every laugh, every look, every touch. But tonight, it felt like you weren’t welcome in the hallways of her haunted home. You were an intruder in a space you used to know intimately.

The toughest part wasn’t the way she drifted to Azzi like a planet pulled into a stronger orbit. It was the fact that you both knew exactly why it was happening. Paige wasn’t trying to hurt you, not intentionally. She was finding something she needed—something you couldn’t give her anymore.

And it crushed you, knowing she wasn’t the person everyone else thought she was. She wasn’t just the golden girl with the easy smile and the killer jump shot. You knew the sharp edges, the flaws she tried to bury under layers of charm. The way she’d lash out when she was scared, the selfishness that reared its head when she felt cornered.

You knew her. Really knew her. And you still stayed.

Stayed when she’d shut you out after a bad game, refusing to talk for days. Stayed when her ambition left no room for you, when she forgot birthdays and date nights and promises. Stayed because Paige wasn’t just the bad parts.

She was also the Paige who kissed your knuckles when you cried, who brought you flowers "just because." The Paige who whispered “I love you” like it was a secret meant only for you.

But now, watching her laugh with Azzi, you wondered if you’d stayed too long. If you’d held onto someone who wasn’t yours anymore.

Paige glanced over, catching your eye for a brief moment. She smiled—polite, distant. And then she turned back to Azzi, her attention snapping back like a rubber band.

It hit you then, the final blow.

Paige’s world had shifted, and you weren’t the center of it anymore. You were the afterthought. A memory of a time when she was still figuring out how to carry the weight of her life.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe Paige wasn’t yours at all. Maybe she never really had been.

There’s a cruel intimacy to grief. The way it finds you in the smallest moments, in the cracks of your routine, in the way the wind moves through the trees or how a song starts playing in a grocery store. Paige is everywhere in Connecticut. Or maybe she’s everywhere in you.

You tried to move on. God, you really did.

At first, it was sheer force of will. You buried yourself in work, in plans with friends who didn’t know Paige beyond the headlines. You deleted her photos off your phone, shoved her sweatshirt to the back of your closet where the scent of her—a mix of fresh linen and something indefinable—couldn’t haunt you.

But grief has a way of sneaking back in. It wasn’t the big things that unraveled you; it was the little ones. The way every basketball game you flipped past felt like her shadow. The sound of laughter at a bar that hit the same pitch as hers, making your chest tighten with phantom warmth.

And God help you, it was the moments when you wanted to hate her but couldn’t. Not when you’d catch yourself remembering how she used to light up at the simplest things—pancakes on a lazy morning, a dumb joke that wasn’t funny but made her laugh so hard she’d double over.

Then there were the rumors. Whispers and Instagram stories. Paige and Azzi—courtside banter turned into something more. The first time you saw it, you scoffed, dismissing it as gossip. Paige always had a way of pulling people into her orbit, Azzi included.

But then came the photos. Nothing overt, nothing scandalous. Just Paige leaning too close during post-game interviews. Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, casual but deliberate. They weren’t trying to hide it, but they weren’t broadcasting it either.

The night you saw it, you stared at your phone for too long, trying to decipher the ache in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. You hadn’t expected Paige to wait for you, not when she had the kind of life that moved at the speed of light. But it was the simplicity of it that hurt the most. The way Paige could give Azzi the pieces of herself you’d fought so hard to hold onto.

You spent the rest of that night curled up on your bed, scrolling through her photos until the light from your phone burned your eyes. By the time you fell asleep, the only thing you felt was exhaustion—the kind that settled in your bones and didn’t leave.

And now, it’s Christmas Eve.

You’re back in Connecticut, surrounded by family and the kind of warmth that’s supposed to feel comforting. But it doesn’t. Not entirely. The house is decked out in garlands and twinkling lights, your mom’s favorite holiday playlist drifting faintly from the kitchen. Your siblings are laughing over some board game you’ve never liked, and you’re standing by the window, watching the snow fall.

It’s quiet in your corner of the house. Too quiet.

The phone in your pocket buzzes. Once. Then again.

You don’t have to look to know who it is.

Paige’s number is burned into your memory, as familiar as your own name. Your chest tightens as you pull the phone out, the screen glowing with her name. It’s been a year since you last spoke. A year of awkward smiles at mutual friends’ events and polite nods when your paths crossed. A year of trying to forget the sound of her voice, the way she’d say your name like it was something precious.

You should answer. Or maybe you shouldn’t.

The buzzing stops, and you think it’s over. But then it starts again, more insistent this time. She doesn’t leave voicemails anymore. Just lets the silence hang in the air between calls.

Your hand hovers over the screen, your breath hitching as the familiar ache rises in your chest. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the cold seeping through the windowpane, on the distant sound of your family laughing.

When the buzzing stops again, you shove the phone back into your pocket.

Merry Christmas, Paige. But I can’t do this. Not tonight.

You turn away from the window, your heart heavy with the weight of all the things you’ll never say. The snow keeps falling, covering the world in glitter and glassy silence. Paige is still everywhere, even when she isn’t. And you?

You’re still trying to move on. Still waiting for the day when the sound of her name doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

The night stretches on, slow and agonizing, the kind of quiet that sinks into your skin and keeps you awake for all the wrong reasons. You sit by the fireplace long after your family has gone to bed, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Your phone sits heavy on the armrest, as if its weight could pull you under.

You wonder what she wanted to say.

Paige wasn’t one for grand gestures, not outside the court. She wasn’t the type to pour her heart out over the phone, but you knew her well enough to read between the lines, to decipher the emotions she couldn’t put into words. And that was the worst part—knowing that whatever it was she wanted to say, it would hurt.

She’d moved on. You were sure of it. Azzi filled the space you used to occupy, and that should’ve been enough to keep Paige away. But here she was, her name lighting up your phone like some ghost that refused to rest.

You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing her—where she was, what she looked like tonight. Was she staring out her own window, watching the snow fall, her lips pressed into that familiar line of determination? Or was she somewhere loud and bright, surrounded by the buzz of life, calling you from the edges of a party she didn’t really want to be at?

The questions gnawed at you, each one another layer of hurt you couldn’t shake.

You thought about the last Christmas you’d spent together, curled up on the couch in her apartment, the world outside forgotten for a few stolen hours. Paige had draped an arm over your shoulders, her face buried in your neck as she mumbled something about how she wished every day could feel like that—quiet, safe, yours.

But nothing stayed quiet with Paige. She lived in a whirlwind, and you’d gotten caught in the eye of the storm. You let her pull you under because you thought, for a moment, that you could save her.

Instead, she left you drowning.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence, and you blink back the tears threatening to spill.

You reach for your phone, your thumb hovering over her name. It would be so easy to call her back, to let her voice fill the space between you. She’d say something half-apologetic, half-charming, and you’d forgive her like you always did, because how could you not?

But you don’t.

Instead, you turn the phone off and set it face-down on the table. The room feels emptier without its glow, but you welcome the darkness.

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it promises joy wrapped in ribbons and snowflakes but leaves you colder than before. It’s a month of ghosts, of memories that slip through your fingers like frost.

And Paige? She’s the cruellest ghost of all.

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rafesslxt · 10 months ago

Text

friends on vacation | mattheo riddle x reader x slytherin squad

mini series pt. 1

summary: you and your friends go on vacation before you start your last year at hogwarts. Let‘s just say it get‘s interesting between you and your best friend Mattheo.

warnings: modern slytherin group, vacation to spain, cursing, making out, touching a little, lap dance, hickeys, kissing pansy as friends in game, english is not my first language

Enzo, Blaise, Draco, Theodore, Mattheo, Pansy and me. We all sat together at my house around a big round table. My parents and I had a big house in New York, living there when the wizard world got a little too much.

It wasn‘t the first time that I had all of my friends over, we were inseparable. Everybody knew. So after a few years I showed them a little of my second world, leaving them no choice but to like it. Just like me, they liked to escape our world sometimes, leaving all the monsters and unicorns behind for some relaxing. Just like now.

"So.. where do we wanna go, huh?" Theodore asked into the round, lightning his cigarette.

"Why don‘t we think about what kind of vacation we want first?" I said, taking my Ipad in front of me and opening my vacation apps. " Please somewhere near the beach. I wanna tan and we‘re around the forest and mountains all the time in Hogwarts." Pansy said, stretching her legs over Draco‘s and Blaise‘s laps who were sitting on my garden couch.

"Yeah I agree, If I see one more forest I‘m gonna die." Blaise joins the conversation with a dramatic sigh at the end.

Mattheo and Draco teased each other at the meantime like little kids, throwing their cherry pits at each other.

"What about Italy? There‘s beach and sun." Enzo asks, sitting on the grass beneath us, playing with my dog. "Nah, I already live there that‘s no vacation for me." Theo answers, shaking his head and blowing out some smoke while speaking.

"I have an idea! Spain is beautiful and it‘s really hot there too, perfect to tan. I was there a few years ago with my parents. And the flight from there back to Hogwarts isn‘t that long. 2-3 hours I think." I suggested and looked around the table, all eyes on me now.

"Where exactly in Spain?" Mattheo asks me, sitting right next to me on a second couch, throwing a pit at Draco again. " Alicante is a great vacation spot. Lots of palms, beach, great fruits and sun. You guys will love it." I smile, already looking for flights for the next days.

"Sounds fine to me." Enzo shrugs, smiling up at me while the rest of our group joins in with "great idea" and some "let‘s do this".

2 days later

" Oh my god its beautiful! " Pansy says, stunned at the apartment I booked for us. "Wow, what a view. You really did a great job y/n." Blaise agrees.

The apartment has indeed a beautiful view, you can see the ocean right in front of us even tho it‘s night, you could see it because of all the lights from the little shops and restaurants along the ocean.

"Soo I booked this apartment with the balcony, 3 bathrooms which should be enough for us and 5 bedrooms. Pansy and Draco will share due obvious reasons." I started looking at them. "Also a kitchen so we can.. i din‘t know, have breakfast or have some snacks if everything is closed at night. And this big fat living room we‘re standing in."

" Blaise is right, you really did a great job at that." Mattheo grins, standing right next to me and looking around the living room.

We all settled in and unpacked our things. Pansy and I marked the biggest bathroom with our makeup and skincare stuff so the boys directly knew its our territory.

"Hey guys Theodore and I are going to a store, getting some groceries." Enzo shouted trough the apartment before walking outside the door with Theo.

"Pansy and me are showering!" I shouted so they‘d know what we‘re up to.

Mattheo and Draco looked at each other, before storming off the couch and sprinting to our bathroom only to realise the door was already locked. "Ugh."

I laughed at them together with Pansy as I shook my head. I took off my makeup as Pansy already got in the shower. "Mattheo is so smitten by you it‘s obvious." She laughs, shampooing her hair.

"You know we‘re just friends, Pansy." I say, cheekly smiling. Mattheo and I are best friends since first grade. All of us got friends real quick. Mattheo and Draco knew each other because the Malfoy‘s raised him for Voldemort. Pansy got a crush on Draco and didn‘t leave his side. Pansy and I had to share a dorm in Hogwarts which made us best friends too really fast. I met Enzo at my first class as he was my partner for the whole year. Blaise met Draco in the common room as they battled for the coolest broom. That‘s how we kind of found our way to each other and I wouldn‘t want to change it for a second.

"Yeah but he looks at you different as he looks at me for example." she answers. "Yeah because you‘re with Draco and he would chop Mattheo‘s dick off!" I laugh before joining her in the shower.

"No y/n, because he likes you a little more than just friends do. And hey I‘m not saying he loves you but all I‘m saying is that there is a little spark between the two of you."

Mattheo and I liked to flirt with each other a lot but we never really did something about it because we‘re just friends. And we just like to flirt for fun. Thats it. I think..

As we were ready we put on some clothes and walked outside the bathroom, our hair still wet from the shower. Pansy sat next to Draco, putting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her. I had to smile at them, they always made me smile no matter what they did. Draco always acted cold towards eveyone around him, besides from his friends of course, we are like family. But he acted really warm around her which made me happy for both of them.

I sat down between Blaise and Mattheo, making myself comfortable laying my legs over Blaise his lap and my head on Mattheo‘s tigh. "Why am I always getting your girls legs?" Blaise complains with a little smile on his face. "Oh shut up you love my legs." I say winking at him which just made him laugh and shaking his head.

A few seconds later I felt a hand in my hair, massaging my scalp which made me purr a little. "Like that?" Mattheo asks, grinning down at me. "You know I do, Matty." I sigh, closing my eyes and enjoying his touch. "Your hair smells really good when it‘s wet. What is it, peach?" he asks me and lowers his head a little bit to my hair. " Oh so my hair only smells good when it‘s wet? But yes, it is peach indeed." Mattheo chuckles at my answer. "No it always smells great. It just smells more intense when it‘s wet."

Suddenly I heard a gagging noice which made me lift my head and see Blaise fake gagging. "Can you two take a room?"

"You‘re just jelous because you‘re alone." Draco snickers from the side, stroking Pansy‘s back. I laugh at his comment before I get a death glare from Blaise.

We all get interrupted by our phone‘s ringing. I take mine out if my pocket just like the rest did and saw a notification from our group chat. Yes, I made them get a phone a year ago but they all only used it between the holidays. Never in Hogwarts. But I did and I also made everyone of them an instagram account a while ago but Theo, he only joined this week.

Theodore: Yo guys we‘re on our way with all the groceries get ready for some drinks! And aye y/n this app you showed me is fuuuull of hot girl why didn‘t you show me sooner dude! *picture attached*

I laugh at his message just like the others do and answer him.

Y/N: I told you but you didn‘t want to join! 😤 I‘m getting the glasses 👀

As i send the message i stand up and walk towards the kitchen to get some glasses and shot glasses. "I‘m gonna help." Mattheo speaks as he stands up from his spot and follows me.

As I grab some glasses from a shelf above me, I feel his presence behind me. "Are you smelling my hair again?" "Yeah it‘s kind of addicting." He admits and kisses the top of my head before he grabs some glasses too and brings them back to the living room and sets them on the table in front of the couch.

I turn on the tv and switched to netflix putting on some random show for some background noises. Just in time Theo and Enzo came trough the door with bags full of alcohol and some food. "Hey guys, just put it on the table, glasses are ready."

"Yo Y/n we got something for you." "What is it?" I wondered as Theo pulled out a big bowl of fruits, handing them over to me with the words "here principessa, you talked the whole fucking flight about the food and especially the fruits here."

"Oh thank you thank you!" I hugged them both tightly and opened the bowl exited to eat some fruits right away. As the first piece of melon hit my tounge I moaned dramatic, sitting back down on the couch. "Ugh I love it so much. Here guys, try some fruits."

They all laughed at my behavior and took some fruits out if the bowl. "Wow these are really good." Blaise nodded, eating a piece of pineapple.

I took out a strawberry and put it to the half into my mouth, slightly sucking on it as I looked over to Mattheo, holding the bowl out to him as he was the only one who didn‘t take some.

He sat down to my left and took the other half of my strawberry, eating it while looking into my eyes. My cheeks flushed a light color of pink and I had to look away which made him smile.

"Come on guys let‘s drink something." Draco says standing up and taking the first bottle, looking towards me. "What‘s that? Jim Bean. There‘s an green apple on it, does it taste like that?"

"Uh- a little bit, it‘s strong alcohol like firewhiskey but with a hint of green apple." i tell him.

"Sounds fire." he says and pours something into our glasses, mixing it with Coke. We all took one, cheered and took our first sip. "And? You like it?“ i ask Draco with a smug face on my face. "Yeah i like this muggle stuff more and more." We all laugh at that and continue drinking and chatting, also planning a little bit what we‘re gonna do the next few days.

A few hours later we are all drunk, sitting on the couch and on the floor, but all around the table, playing uno. It was only Pansy against Blaise, the rest of us already lost. Blaise lay‘s down a wish card, seeing Pansy has only left 1 card. He thinks for a sec and says "blue" before Pansy springs up happy and dancing, throwing her blue card on the table. " Uno! ha!" Blaise groans in annoyance and lets himself fall back onto the couch.

"Let‘s play something more interesting guys!" Pansy suggests." Somethink like.. never have I ever or.. truth or dare!"

"Truth or Dare!" I giggle, taking an empty bottle from the ground. " I have a perfect app for this guys! It‘s called piccolo." I took out my phone and put all of our names into it so it could give us our first quest.

Draco and Enzo tell us about your most embarrassing story ever.

We all look at them, waiting for them to tell. Enzo tells us how his pants ripped at a date and Draco claims nothing embarrassing has ever happened to him but Pansy tells us how he sneezed into her face at the first dinner with her parents.

Theodore, choose someone‘s glass at the table and drink it all.

Theo groans and try‘s to take the glass with the least drink in it and chooses Mattheo‘s who has a little less in it then mine.

Mattheo, fill up your glass again.

Now Mattheo‘s the one who groans and does as the phone tells him to.

Y/n, choose your left or right for a at least 10 second kiss.

My eyes widen as I look to my left and see Mattheo grinning and to my right Pansy. "Sorry Mattheo." I giggle as i turn to my right and look at Pansy. She has to giggle too and comes near my face.

"Damn boys am I dreaming or are you seeing the same thing I do?" Theodore asks as he gawks at us.

"Shut up and be quiet!" Draco hisses and looks at us too. "Let‘s give them a show." Pansy giggles and pulls me closer. Our lips meet and I can‘t help but smile against her lips.

"Shit.." i hear Enzo whispering. She giggled against my lips as she hears him too and as the 10 seconds are up we seperate and look around us. They all look at us with big eyes and drooling mouths. "God what is it with boys that they find it so hot when teo girls are making out." Pansy asks.

As I lean back into my spot, Mattheo leans right next to me, his lips beside my ear as he whispers inside it "i don‘t know if i should be jelous or lucky to see something like that." My cheeks heat up again but I try to hide it with rolling my eyes and answering " you‘re a little pervert, mattheo." But I still have to laugh.

"And they‘re gone." I hear Blaise saying, which makes me look at them again to see the last bit of Draco and Pansy before they leave the living room and stumble kissing inside of their shared room.

I shake my head chuckling, Theo shouting "Use condoms my kids!"

Enzo, choose someone to drink against you, loser has to do the cleaning.

Enzo looks around the room and grins at me. "Oh my god why.." i half laugh and half whine as I take my glass and start drinking as fast as I can but Enzo is way faster and smashes his glass back down onto the table it almost broke. "Ha! yes!" Enzo celebrates.

Theodore, choose someone in this round and give them an interesting task.

Theo thinks for a moment before his lips curl up into a devilish smile. "Y/n.. " he starts "choose someone of us to give a lapdance to."

My face heats up at his words and my mind starts to think who to choose as I stand up to walk over to Theodore, but a pair of hands grip my hips and pull me into their matching lap. "Don‘t you dare pick someone else than me little peach." mattheo‘s deep voice echoes in my ear.

I look over to Blaise and tell him to put on a song for me. "Damn she really is gonna give him one." Enzo chuckles as he watches me standing up again in front of Mattheo.

Blaise puts on a song which comes out of the music boxes beside us.

I take a deep breath in and out, hoping not to embarrass myself in my drunken state.

I take his hand and leat him to an empty arm chair besides the couch.

I start slowly circling the chair, my finger gazing his shoulder and his chest as the music starts. When I stand behind him I grap his hair and softly pull on it so his head throws back. I arch my back and lower down a bit until i tease him with brushing my lips against the skin of his neck, making him shivers in his seat. I get back up and walk around the chair again, still touching his arm softly.

When I stand in front of him I put my foot on his chair between his spread legs, slowly tracing it with my own fingers. I know how much he loves me legs, he always told me. That was the real reason why Blaise always got the legs. Because I wanted to tease Mattheo.

I saw him gulping and his hands twitching as he trys not to touch my leg. I take my leg back to the ground and arch my back again, pushing his legs together and sitting on his lap in one smooth motion.

I hear the boys whistle at my move and I have to hide a smile. I slowly start to grind on his left tight, after a minute on his right but not with too much pressure, always just brushing and gazing touch.

I looked at Mattheo, him biting his lower lip and looking down at my hips grinding. I stand up again, turn around and bend over with an arched back, shaking my ass.

After that I took a few steps towards him but still with my back to him and sat down on his lap this time, leaning my back against him and slithering one arm around his neck so his head was at my shoulder. I started grinding my hips slowly but this time with more pressure. "And you wanted to do that on one of them?" Mattheo whispers in my ear, laying his hands on my moving hips.

Without answering him I stood up as the song was over. They all cheered and clapped their hands together which made me laugh and blush. I sat back down on the couch looking over to Mattheo who stood up, his hands hanging in front of his crotch.

He walked over to me, sitting beside me with a little frown to his face which made me gulp. "What‘s wrong?" I asked him quietly so the rest wouldnt hear, even tho they were already distracted by something new. "Nothing." he mumbled and looked at the still running tv. "Come on tell me, we‘re best friends. I can see somethings wrong."

Then he looks at me with sharp eyes, taking my hand and putting it on his lap. "Does this feel like nothing to you, y/n?" he asks with a low voice, my eyes going wide as I felt him hard in his pants, because of.. me?

Without even thinking I grabbed him trough his pants, making his eyes go wide. At first he looked at the boys, then at me. "Y/n.. " "Mattheo.."

Suddenly he grabs my shirt pulling me towards him and crashes his lips against mine. This time my eyes go wide as I feel his lips against mine. They feel soft and full, tasting like the apple whiskey we drank all night long. His hands roam over my body, feeling almost every inch of me.

I lick his bottom lip before I let him explore my mouth with his tounge. "Fuck you taste so fucking good." he breathes against my lips.

My hand is still on his lap, feeling almost paralyzed as i didn‘t move out of fear what would happen next If I continue. But I could feel how much harder he got from our little makeout session.

"Mattheo.. we have to stop." I whisper against his lips, my forehead against his. "But it feels so good.." "I know it does, but we will regret it If we don‘t stop, okay?" He groans and takes me by my hips, pulling me on top of him.

"Y/n, please. I beg you. Just make out a little more with me, I need this." he slurrs, obviously still as drunk as I am. That‘s why I blame my next decision on the alcohol.

My hands grab his shirt and I pull him even closer to me, brushing my lips against his. "Tomorrow we‘re normal friends again okay? Nothings going to be awkward or different, because we just make out a little.. like friends do, helping each other just to ease a little. Promise me." the words come out as a whisper and he nodds, agreeing to them. ".. I promise."

Desperately he closes the space between us, taking my lips in for a heated kiss again. My hands were on his hair, slightly pulling on some strands. "Do that again.." he groans. I pull again and a strangled moan leaves his lips making me shiver on him.

He arches his back a little, bucking his hips against mine. He shudders when my hips move back against his, still sitting on his lap.

"What are you even doing to me, Peach – huh?" I hear him say before he traces down an invisible path down my neck, leaving light and wet kissed.

– thats all I remember before waking up in my bed in the morning with my head hurting like hell. I groan and try to get up, wanting to take a shower. It sounds like the rest is still asleep so I walk into mine and Pansy‘s bathroom, taking off my clothes to get into the shower. With one last turn I see myself in the mirror, my eyes widen. What the fuck.

I had a hickey right between my breasts and one on my collorbone but it was really small and almost bot noticeable. Who was - shit Mattheo.

—

yoo 2 posts in less than 24h ?? Crazyy

this is going to be a mini series. 🫶🏻 inspired by my vacation 2 weeks ago to Barcelona 🇪🇸

my Masterlist

xoxo Sarah <3

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