#Fic: Spark

[saltiestblkgirlofall]

Spark [Chapter 2]

Summary: She is a spymaster, not a warden. A hunter, not a caretaker. Yet here she is, trusted with the keys that hold the prison of one Erik "Killmonger" Stevens.

Notes: This chapter was super wordy but I set up like...two other stories and some of what Spark's plot going forward will be, so I'm proud of myself for getting this far without a concrete chapter plan (best believe I will be forcing myself to write one this weekend). Just clearing something up: unless I state otherwise, all of my fics take place within the same continuity. All of my fics focus on oc x canon pairings, and those OCs are black women specifically.

Word Count: 3.70k

Warnings: Allusions to racism and canon-typical violence.

Chapter 1 || Next [12/23/2022]

--

1991, Birnin Zana

Fatuma awoke with a soft gasp, sitting up slowly and blearily looking around her darkened room. The only source of light was from her clock, which emanated a soft golden glow. The preteen scrubbed a hand over her eyes, smacking her lips, as she slowly sat up, tempted to sink back into her silky soft sheets. Her bed was still warm—she’d been suffering from a cold and so her mother had slept with her daughter, the young girl uncharacteristically seeking her mother’s physical comfort. Fatuma’s throat itched and she noticed her water cup was empty. Getting out of bed, she padded over to her cracked door, easing it open silently. 

As she headed towards the staircase which lead down to the kitchen and living area, her mother’s sharp voice stopped her in her tracks. 

“Is this true, my king?” Fatuma peered over the banister—her eyes widened into saucers when she saw her uncle standing there, clad in his armor. Although she wanted to go and greet him, something rooted her to the spot. 

“Yes.”

“I see.” The head of the Emem family ran a hand over her face. Expression strained, mismatched eyes fixed upon T’Chaka. When she spoke again, Fatuma heard the tears in her mother’s voice. A rare display of emotion from the otherwise stoic She-Wolf. “I will…I will update the records.” 

T’Chaka’s voice held a pleading note. “Desta—”

“T’Chaka.” Desta sharply said, before her voice softened. “Please. Don’t, Your Majesty. As your Spymaster, I understand. As your friend and sister-in-law…” 

“I know.” Another pause. The King swayed on his feet and Desta stepped forward, only for T’Chaka to raise a hand. “Will you tell Faraji?” 

“Are you insane—”

���It is a legitimate question, Desta.” 

Fatuma watched as her mother paused, then let out a bitter little laugh. “No.”

“Thank you.” Desta Emem turned away from the King, her brother-in-law, and walked over to the small bar, pouring herself a glass of wine and draining the glass. She leaned against the marble countertop for a long time, the King patiently and respectfully waiting for her to speak again. 

“…Is that all you want to tell me, T’Chaka?” Desta squeezed her cup. “Is there anything else I should know?” 

“…No.” T’Chaka firmly said. The She-Wolf blew air out through her nostrils. 

“I suppose both you and I will be telling our spouses some lies, come the dawn. I hope—I pray to Anub that it was worth it, Your Majesty.”

“I know.” A pause. “I pray it was worth it as well.” The King sounded more exhausted, more strained than she’d ever heard him. Repentant, even. Fatuma shuffled away from the banister and back towards her bedroom. The water could wait. Whatever the situation, it sounded grim and she did not care to listen any further. 

She pretended to be asleep when she heard her door open. Desta got into the bed next to her daughter and after checking her forehead, wrapped her arms about her daughter and pressed her cheek to Fatuma’s.

The young girl pretended not to notice the wetness of her mother’s cheeks. 

“It is my intention to deny any and all ‘exchanges’ to Wakanda.”

Fatuma paced the space below the throne room, as the Elder Council met above. It was tradition for the Spymaster to not be seen during such gatherings. She, after all, answered directly to the king. Never to the Council of Elders. She had respect for them—all of them. Their positions were earned, not simply given, just as her own had been. But as she answered to a single leader… 

The Americans are likely frothing at the mouth. Fatuma smirked to herself. It was she, after all, who advised against visitors to the country proper. She didn’t trust their leadership as far as she could throw them. Vigilance and suspicion. She’d advised T’Challa, Okoye and Ramonda, when they’d met privately the evening before. She’d spent time in America—sent agents into vital areas of their infrastructure. She knew how they treated their own people. Treated those nations with the resources they wanted and the lack of power to resist. She planned to assign two Dogs to each planned outreach center. They are like sharks—if they smell blood, they shall feast. 

“Shall we go ahead with suggestions of an embassy?” 

“Only in several countries.” T’Challa said. “The Americans refuse unless they are allowed to establish one of their own within Birnin Zana.” 

The Merchant Tribe Elder scoffed, “Out of the question.” 

Okoye piped up. “I agree.” 

Fatuma paused in her pacing, purposely letting her leg drop heavily. The sound of her heel clicking filtered up through the thin floor—she was sure that the elders had heard her nonverbal agreement. T’Challa, after masterfully disguising his laugh with a clearing of his throat evenly responded. 

“I have taken my advisors’ words into consideration and I will not permit the establishment of an embassy on Wakandan soil.”  

“My King.” The Mining Tribe elder said. “There is another matter we have been meaning to bring up.” 

Fatuma’s lips twitched—she had a sense of what it was. And based on T’Challa’s quiet ‘what is it’, he had a sense of what it was going to be as well. 

“The burden of the crown is a heavy one. Perhaps you should take a queen…” 

The rest of the meeting was a blur and standard. As they turned to more mundane matters, she made her way to the upper floor and waited outside of the door to the throne room—after a few minutes it opened. 

Fatuma inclined her head respectfully as the elders, one by one, filtered out of the great throne room. The Queen Mother squeezed her arm gently before vanishing down the hall with the others, leaving T’Challa alone, staring out at the skyline. She didn’t hide her smug amusement and called out, 

“An interesting conclusion, to the meeting.” 

“For Bast’s sake—my reign is not even two months old.” T’Challa turned away from the great window with an uncharacteristic scowl. Fatuma smiled—he was going to hate what she had to say, then. 

“I think you should get married, actually.” Fatuma folded her arms. “I might weep over Nakia’s loss, but she would make an excellent Queen.” 

T’Challa gave her a withering look.

“Nakia is someone I care for deeply. And she cares for me. She has been my lover and she is a close friend and confidant. But…” He left the end of his statement open. Fatuma strained her ears for signs of resignation or sadness, but there was simply a conclusion. “We desire different things.” 

“I understand.” Fatuma knew her best spy well. Marriage, queenship, a life tethered to the land of Wakanda…it was not in her nature. Nakia had always been one to look outwards, to look beyond. Her service to her people was in a more proactive, dynamic role. If T’Challa were a mountain, serene, peaceful and unmovable, Nakia—true to her heritage as a member of the River Tribe—was just that. Coursing and unpredictable, yet providing to the people who lived alongside it. It frustrated Fatuma to no end at times. But it was also what she—and perhaps T’Challa as well—loved the most about her. The She-Wolf came to stand alongside him, only for T’Challa to wrap an arm about her shoulder.

“What about you, elder sister? You will be forty, soon enough.” 

“Eh, eh! I am thirty-seven, cousin, do not add the extra years.” Fatuma swatted at the King as he began to laugh. “You sound like Halima.” 

“Speaking of Halima.” T’Challa thoughtfully said. “I want her reassigned to a particular task.”

“Reassigned to what?” Halima Emem, her younger sister, had been in deep cover in Hong Kong when Killmonger’s coup occurred. When she refused to accept orders, two of her fellow Dogs fled and the others attacked her. Like Fatuma, she had been charged with hunting and apprehending—or killing the rogue agents. Fatuma imagined their ends weren’t kind—she after all, had taught Halima everything she knew. And if Fatuma was vicious, Halima was brutal, built taller and stronger than her elder sister.

“I want her to go to Jabariland.” At Fatuma’s furrowed brows the King explained, “Shuri is Wakanda’s only princess and she is the head of our Development Group. As the Queen’s niece and one of the remaining members of the Wolf Cult, having Halima as an unofficial ambassador will show our confidence in M’Baku’s overtures of friendship.” 

Fatuma frowned but T’Challa gave a toothless smile. For someone who disliked politics, he was frighteningly adept at the art. Perhaps we are fortunate he does not relish the game so greatly. 

Working her jaw for a long moment, she finally conceded, “Halima will kick up a fuss, you know. She enjoys her work as a Dog.”

“I am well aware. But I have confidence she will not turn down what I am prepared to offer her.”

“Oh?” 

T’Challa gave a conspiratorial grin. Fatuma raised her brows. 

“Truly? That is how you intend to bribe her?”

“Do you think it is childish?” 

“A little.” 

“I have seen you baby your wolves, Fatuma, is bribing her with a panther cub such a ridiculous notion?”

Fatuma felt her cheeks flush as she thought of Sarabi and Zhali. She did tend to spoil them, that much was true--she planned to leave this meeting and go make them their favorite meal of rice, boiled chicken and yams. “I think Lord M’Baku will take issue with the sort of pets people like us keep.” 

“And that is why he will not know about the cub until Halima is already there.” T’Challa turned down the hall which lead to his office—clearly there were reports and missives to review. “I will make the proposition at the next  council meeting. I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to inform Halima of her new assignment.” Fatuma made a mental note to order some of Halima’s favorite takeout. 

“I did notice Lord M’Baku was not in attendance today.”

“One of his wives is ill—he wished to stay behind and care for her.”

“How many does he have?”

“Four, I believe.” Fatuma hummed thoughtfully and T’Challa snapped, “I will not bring back concubinage as the standard, so don’t you even think about asking.”

“The line of succession was never lean when the King had multiple wives, T’Challa.”

“Yes, but the lack of infighting is nice, don’t you think?” Fatuma sucked her teeth, knowing he was correct. “If you are so inclined, you and my mother may chat my ears off about dating when I return from my walkabout in the countryside.” The walkabout had been Ramonda’s idea—a way to restore confidence and security amongst the people following the upheaval of the past couple months. And it was standard for several weeks, up to a couple months a year, for the King of Wakanda to tour the provinces of the small kingdom. 

“The crown is a heavy burden. You should have someone to share it with.”

“I have my mother, and Shuri. Nakia has never denied me a listening ear or advice. And I do have you.”

“Mmm.” 

“How is Erik doing?” Fatuma’s brows furrowed and she frowned openly at T’Challa. 

“You see him quite often.”

“And he volunteers little information about the hours between our time spent together.” T’Challa gave her a pointed look. 

“I don’t spend much time with him, T’Challa.” It was true. 

The first couple weeks of their new arrangement passed in relative peace. 

Fatuma rose early and worked late, mustering up the energy to kick her shoes off in the front walkway before stumbling to the couch. There she would catch an hour of sleep before rousing herself enough to either fall into her bed or pass out on her study’s couch. Her heels were always in place by the entrance to her rooms in the mornings. 

Fatuma made a point of checking on Erik’s movements every hour or so, pulling up map on her beads and studying it. So far, he hadn’t done much—he spent a lot of time in the spare study, in the kitchen, in the palace training grounds. The mind-healer assigned to him came to see him in her quarters. 

Right now he was in the main living space, although she couldn’t ascertain what he was doing. If he’s eating on my couch, I will kill him. Fatuma thought, and closed her beads’ interface out. When she glanced over at T’Challa, there was a curious look on his face. It was one he got whenever he got down to the labs and tinkered, or was faced with a problem someone wanted him to solve. She didn’t like it and smacked his shoulder lightly. 

“Whatever you are thinking of, put it from your head.” Turning away, she called, “I have to meet with Okoye—do not cause trouble while I am busy.” Her beads hummed with a message—when she saw it was blinking red, she frowned. That meant it was urgent. 

“Me? Never.” 

His laughter accompanied her all the way down the hall. 

—

When Erik was a small boy, he found sitting still difficult. 

His teachers all claimed that he was ‘bright’ but ‘disruptive’, simply because his lessons bored him. Who gave a shit—he did his work, he got straight As, so he amused himself. If his friends got distracted by him fiddling, he felt that it was their business, not his, but this attitude got him hauled into parental conference after parental conference. 

His fourth-grade teacher, Ms. Duggan, sneered down her hawk beak nose at him as she recounted his latest offense, which had been attempting origami with his loose papers while the rest of the class worked on their math test. 

(A math test that he had naturally aced.)

Although normally Erik’s mother accepted teachers’ critiques with a practiced smile, this time she dropped the pretense of politeness. 

Demanding to know if her son quietly working on origami required both the principle and a hall monitor to be hauled in. When Ms. Duggan stammered, scrambling for answers, Dr. Cassandra Stevens gave Ms. Duggan a snarl of a smile and informed her that if she was called down to the school again for something so innocuous, she’d bring the board into this. She also informed Ms. Duggan that her son would not be serving a late detention, given that he was eight and she would not have him walking back to their apartment after the streetlights came on.

Erik had clutched his mother’s hand as she walked with him to the parking lot, keys jangling in her hand, black leather purse slung over her shoulder with his detention note peeking out, heels clacking loudly against the asphalt. She muttered under her breath in her thick Southern drawl, occasionally sucking her teeth and scowling. When they were both in her ‘82 Honda, she took a deep breath and stared out across the parking lot. When the heat in the car became too much, he tugged on her sleeve. 

“Momma?” Erik asked timidly. “You mad at me?”

Cassandra took a deep breath and turned to him, sighing softly and ruffling his hair. “No, baby, of course not. But remember what I told you about doing extra in class?”

He pouted at her. “But I was bored.” 

A fond, sad smile crossed her face.  “I know, Erik.” 

“Mr. Pritchard says you should skip me.” Erik said. 

“E-Erik w-we’ve spoken a-about…” Cassandra tripped over her words and took a deep breath. Erik reached out and put a hand on her shoulder, which made her smile as she turned to him. “You know your daddy and I don’t want that.”

“Why not? I’m the smartest kid in school, everyone says so, Momma.” 

“Because you are a little boy, not some excuse for the district to try and look good while failing everyone else left and right.” She swiped her thumb over the apple of his cheek. “Wouldn’t you miss Kareem, Danny and the others?” 

He saw his mother’s point—he’d be sad without his friends, but still. 

As quickly as his mother entered his mind, he banished her again. He wasn’t ready to mourn. He wasn’t ready to lay those memories to rest.

When will you be?

“Erik.” He took a deep breath and looked forward, at the woman staring across the table at him.

Madhi was a silver-haired woman with sharp eyes, a sharper tongue but a warm and honest heart. It was her job to be utterly impartial, and her commitment to her role stunned him. Not once did he detect resentment, anger or even disdain. Simply an open ear, sound advice, and perhaps even a bit of understanding. When he returned his attention to the elder woman she smiled a little. 

“Done daydreaming?”

“I wasn’t.” He insisted almost childishly. 

“Do you think you’re up to speak about your family today?” She laced her fingers together. 

“Everything’s in my file, doc.” 

“I knew Prince N’Jobu, Erik.” She reminded him. “And I’m aware of what’s in your file. But I’m talking about your father. Your sister. Your mother.” 

Erik fell into silence and he saw Madhi give a quiet, understanding quirk of the lips. Progress was glacial and some part of him deep inside felt guilty about making her job harder, but at least she wasn’t gnashing her teeth in frustration or throwing her hands up. His first and last attempt at therapy back in the States ended with the doctor, some tweed-wearing Becky from Upstate New York throwing her hands up and trying to put him on medication. After that, he’d been reluctant to try again, but T’Challa had mandated this shit…

“Alright, what about your interactions with your family here? T’Challa tells me that the two of you sparred the other day.” 

“It’s aight.” He shrugged lightly. Sometimes T’Challa’s capacity for forgiveness and tolerance made him want to smash his fist into his cousin’s face. Killmonger hissed that it was weakness and foolishness. Idiocy, even. Erik, Erik Stevens who once held an idealistic view of the world and of his future saw it for what it was. A form of strength. A willingness to embrace the shunned child, despite the disapproving gaze of the village. “It’s different.” 

“From your exercises in the American military.” 

“Yeah.” He felt, for the first time, that he was actually learning things again. As much as he hated to admit it, his cousin did know a thing or two.

Their session continued as normal, Mahdi silently reading through the journal she had him keeping, reminding him of their exercises and after bidding him a good evening, she departed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. 

His mind, he found, was a frightening place. It was a thought he’d increasingly had, in the last few weeks.

After pulling the spear tip free of his torso, Erik had awoken expecting to see the afterlife, only to see a panther the size of a horse staring at him. He did not need to be told who he was facing, for the orchid-colored eyes which burned out of Her face told him that he faced a goddess. 

He was inclined to spit at Her, curse Her for Her passivity, but something not quite fear and not quite reverence stopped him in his tracks. 

N’Jadaka. Son of N’Jobu and son of Cassandra. 

His father’s name had not stunned him. His mother’s had. 

“If you’re here to tell me how you always loved me or some shit, I’m not tryna hear all of that.” Erik snarled. Bast tilted Her head and a low rumbling reached his ears. It didn’t take him long to figure out that She was laughing at him. 

Even if I were so inclined, I would not beg forgiveness of you. Bast’s maw parted in mimicry of a smile. 

“Where am I?” 

You lie on the precipice between life and death. The goddess said. She got to her feet and loped past him. He felt inclined to follow. They passed between rows of baobabs, the call of the savannah distantly reaching his ears. He followed her into grass which tickled his bare feet, then rose to his knee, his waist and then above his head. My consort believes I should let you die. But death is easier than living—no, N’Jadaka, it is not yet your time. You carry my gift within you—and you shall use it for purpose higher than rage. 

“What purpose?!” He roared at Her. “I had my purpose!”

Did you? Bast stared at him. Beyond war, Erik Stevens, N’Jadaka Udaku, what was your purpose? When the ashes settle, there must be something to fill the void. Revenge only sustains one for so long. And when revenge is taken, where does purpose go? After reducing the world to nothing, would you have ruled the ashes?

“I--”

And what of your mother’s ancestors? What of their sacrifices and struggles, only for war and destruction to be their ultimate legacy?  

Erik was silent. The goddess gave what he assumed was a pointed look. 

Go, Erik. The panther melted into the great, pale stalks of grass. Heal. Seek atonement. Rediscover your purpose. 

The goddess had not visited him again, since that meeting. He had awoken on a metal slab, thrashing and screaming until his throat was raw. That had been three weeks ago. 

The first familiar face he saw was T’Challa’s. His cousin looked exhausted, yet told Erik that he was pleased to see that he was awake. 

“Why save me?” He’d demanded. His final wishes rang in his ears. "Just bury me in the ocean with my ancestors that jumped from the ships because they knew death was better than bondage." Yet here he was. Alive.

“Because She decided it was not your time.” T’Challa had answered simply. “And She can be insistent, when She is ready.” 

And so he continued to live, all because a fucking god decided she wasn’t finished with his ass. 

He couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh, to destroy something, or to cry.  Bonus: Spark Lookbook! (Prologue, Ch. 1 and Ch. 2) Taglist: @chaneajoyyy @muse-of-mbaku @tchallasbabymama @blackpinup22 @shimmerwriter @theunsweetenedtruth @why-wait-4-eventually

[spacedace]

Yall someone on reddit made a list of reverse writing tropes as prompts and I'm losing my damn mind over them:

I want to write something for each and every one of these. I already have ideas for some of them holy shit I love these 🤣

[mariyekos]

Okay to reblog to help sample size!

[andromedaprime]

"We could have built the future togeth-"

"Wrong. The only future we're building is in your forge."

[arafilez]

SPARK'S FLY ㅤㅤㅤ☆ ㅤ —﹙ SVT ﹚

FIRST KISS ㅤ,ㅤ with svt hyung line !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( x reader ) 𓂃 ㅤ fluff ㅤ headcannonsㅤ warnings kiss ㅤ⋆ ( 20 / mem ) ㅤ❟❟ㅤ maknaez ㅤ .ㅤ library ㅤ svt shelfㅤ navi

— ㅤ CHOI SEUNGCHEOL !

This man. Everyone can call him Alpha whatever he is the biggest glossy-eye emoji to exist.

Like remember how his voice and eyes became while saying, “Melon ppang, Mingyu-ah.” Yes!

He is such a gentleman, the proper first date, leaving you off at home, and walking back, he checks every box of the perfect boyfriend.

And the same goes for your first kiss.

It is his very gentlemanly attitude that makes your heart melt into a puddle.

He will be standing with you in front of your house as you exchange goodbyes.

And neither of you wants to part for the night and thus you wish time stills.

It doesn’t, but Cheol’s touches linger more, his fingers caress along with yours and even though his hold is light it remains firm on your hands.

“I had a great time tonight.” “Yeah me too.”

Is there anything to talk? No. Are you guys willing to let go for the night? Also no.

You are tempted to invite him inside but your mind balances on the fact a little if it is too early for that.

“I should go.” “Yeah.”

His face hovers over yours and you look up meeting his eyes and god, he is so beautiful.

His feet touch yours and for a fraction of a second, you feel his gaze on your lips but quickly look away.

Unable to control yourself you break into a smile and nod your head to a ‘yes’ and that is all he needs,

Leaning in slowly his lips attach to yours and you love how his lips taste.

Just like cherries you think and kiss him back as his hands holds one of yours and the other is placed lightly on your nape.

As soon as you part, it is all giggles and feeling shy for both of you.

You keep smiling and biting your lips as he leaves and close the door, sinking on the ground.

You feel lovesick and giddy for what’s about to come next for you two.

— ㅤ YOON JEONGHAN !

Jeonghan is a whole menace. The way your relationship is so playful with the continuous teasing and the pranks you play on each other.

Similarly your first kiss is really playful too.

The type that you would not even realise is happening until he has asked it in between his bubbly giggles.

Like hold this scenario, he is blatantly cheating on this video game you guys are playing.

Of course he is denying it while you try to pin it on him and you finally had enough and try to snatch his controller.

He laughs loudly at your failed attempt and stretches his hand more making you climb over him to get it.

Being the teaser he is, he tickles your sides and you fall down on the couch shrieking.

The game is now long forgotten (cue Wonwoo screaming in the VC) and you two are just attacking each other with tickles.

Your laugh and giggles fill the room and in that moment you throw a cushion at Jeonghan who tosses it and jumps over you.

And in between his laugh, he sees your smiling face and feels how lucky he is to have you in his life and ends up blurting.

“You’re so cute, I could kiss you.”

You feel like your breathe stops and Jeonghan realises what he said and your reaction doesn’t help. At all. He messed up.

He starts to slowly get up but you clutch his shirt and pull him towards you whispering “Yes” because finally??????

He balances himself with one hand and his eyes become rounder but he wastes no time attaching your lips to his.

First kisses are never perfect but you love how his lips feel soft and plush against yours.

They feel beautiful and sweet just like him.

When you pull away he looks at you, his eyes filled with adoration while you feel warm from every part of your body.

Jeonghan pecks your lips again, because he can’t get enough of your taste making you giggle lightly.

And suddenly he is tickling you again as if you two didn’t just cross a milestone in your relationship.

That is how natural and fitting it is for him.

— ㅤ HONG JOSHUA !

Joshua is a sweet but crazy boy and that is how your relationship is defined.

And we know he loves rain, way too much! He just loves water, no?

The day is really peaceful, you can smell the ground as the rain hits and you sit by the window enjoying the light taps of the rain against the glass.

Joshua comes up from behind and snuggles into the crook of your neck.

You smile, loving his warmth and his smell beside you and you run your hands lightly through his hair.

And he makes the craziest comment ever- “Do you want to get soaked in the rain?”

You don’t get a chance to answer, before he is dragging you out, his playful giggles contrasting your wide eyes.

As soon as you are outside, Joshua pulls you close to him and giggles.

The protest leaves your mouth but the water hits both of your skin and attach to his hair which makes it look full of beads.

You laugh and giggle at that even though you two are fully soaked and even dance around.

Shoes make sloppy noises and you two will catch a cold, but does that faze you? Absolutely not!

After a good few minutes Joshua suddenly pulls you closer to him and looks at you.

He loves how much you match his energy, how much you are willing to do anything for him (as long as it is legal).

You feel his eyes on your lips and it makes you tense about this being both of your first with each other.

Is it cheesy? Yes. But totally with your consent, light touches and small giggles he attaches his mouth to yours.

The water falls beside you but you love how you two fit perfectly. He pulls you close, hands running through your soaked cloth.

The kiss feels so sweet and crazy just like him, kissing in the rain, so rom-com-ish that it makes you laugh.

As soon as he pulls away he is placing a shy peck on your lips and you stare in his eyes adoringly.

You make out every detail of his face, the water in his eyelashes, his slightly red lips, and shiny eyes, adorable and mischievous smile.

And just like that you guys are kissing again, although this time a lot more messier than before because of you two constantly smiling.

— ㅤ WEN JUNHUI !

Junhui, the sweet playful boy. He loves taking you by surprise.

It’s not like he hasn’t kissed you before, just not on lips. And boy does he plan!

He plans so much that when it comes to do the actual thing everything is thrown out the window.

The sounds of the sea crashing at the shore reaches your ears as the two of you walk at the beach in the night.

He talks casually but is actually so nervous that his hand which is holding you are sweating.

You don’t take it into note a lot, mostly because you are engaged to the sound of his voice and how ethereal he looks.

Plans? What plans? He forgets them all as he pulls you towards the water both of you giggling and squealing.

And as you two are playfully throwing water around he giggles as he tackles you from behind and his soft breath reaches your neck as he holds your waist tightly.

You throw your head back laughing and he looks at you locking your eyes with his. The air thickens in anticipation as his slightly damp hair falls over his face.

One moment you are parting the strands of his hair from his eyes, the next moment he is locking his lips with yours.

You stumble lightly from the weight of his body pressed against yours but Junhui’s hands on your waist steadies you.

Your hands interlock with his soft hair and he smiles into your mouth, making you tug lightly on his shirt.

As soon as you part you both start smiling and giggling like kids as the cool water makes a stark contrast to the deep flush in your skins.

You rake your fingers through his damp hair, parting a few strands again as the air feels like sweet love around silence.

Jun watches you with hearts in his eyes and traces his eyes over your features, leaning in to your touch.

And suddenly his warm breath halts your movements and he gives one look in your eyes and presses his lips to yours. He holds you closer and tighter as he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

You feel bliss as you round your arms around his neck and your mind feels hazy as Junhui deepens the kiss before pulling away.

Parting, he looks at you and says, “I think I have a new addiction.” He is right, your lips are his new desperation and craving and god he wants more.

You giggle feeling the spark down your nerves at his love-drunk, melodious voice.

The moment last for a while before you squeal as Jun picks you up suddenly and runs making you scream louder. You just never know with his playfulness.

— ㅤ KWON SOONYOUNG !

The adorable little shy bean who is a whole fluff ball of energy.

Our hamster tiger would be so much giggly as he takes you out to an amusement park date.

You two would go on rides, eat a lot of stuff, go through the action and horror houses making you both tired.

The city lights start twinkling as you two decide to end the day with a Ferris wheel ride.

As soon as you two start going up the lights from the ground slowly dim out and the city lights enter through the glass panes.

You look down at your interlocked hands before trailing your eyes up to his to find him already looking at you with the softest smile ever.

You look into each other’s eyes unable to look away and inching closer every second as the wheel goes round.

His grip on your hands tightens in assurance and after a considerable time you two are finally close.

Noses brushing, lips almost touching, his hand inching along your waist as he whispers if it is okay.

Okay? Oh you are more that okay! You nod lightly and he presses his lips to yours as soon as you do.

You hum lightly in the sweet encasement as your hands round around shoulders.

His fingertips dance on your skin, as his lips part and hovers over yours in a feather-like manner.

A small laugh from him makes you smile too at his squished face and half-moon eyes that are twinkling with joy.

(This is too cliché isn’t it? He asks) (Yes) and you hide your smile against his neck.

Presses light kisses down your face before reaching your lips again and it fits naturally against yours.

This one is deeper, heavy with emotions and has a greater tug against your heartstrings as your lips move against each other.

The dim cabin makes it feel all the more romantic and intimate in your personal revelry.

Rosy cheeks and shy laughs until it is time to get off the wheel.

Today was- he trails off with an expecting look in his eyes.

Dreamy- you complete biting your lips feeling shy. Yes, it was overly exceptional!

— ㅤ JEON WONWOO !

It has been a few weeks since you and Wonwoo had started dating.

But you haven’t kissed yet and you are currently standing admiring him from afar.

That was not a problem but you were getting kinda impatient.

Which is wrong but you watch your boyfriend read as the sunlight hits his face your desire gets stronger.

You walk up to him, tilt your head towards him and ask what he is reading.

He looks up, wide eyes twinkling behind the glasses as he animatedly starts to explain about it.

Your head hangs over his face, taking in his features and even upside down you can see how beautiful and ethereal he looks.

You kneel to the floor and slowly thread your fingers through his hair.

With each stroke of his hair his voice gets quieter and breath gets stuck as he locks eyes with you.

What are you doing he asks and you don’t even realise you have leaned close to him.

You gasp trying to get back but he grabs your wrist as his eyes scream don’t.

His eyes travel down to your lips and for a moment you think you are hallucinating before he asks, “Can I?”

Have you continuously dreamt of this? Yes. Were you ready? Hell no.

As soon as you nod he wastes no time in locking his lips with yours.

The kiss is sweet at first before he grabs your chin lightly guiding you throw it.

You feel like vaporizing as you feel his lips move against yours and feel him slightly biting your lower lips.

When you two part, slightly out of breath he grins in a lovesick way saying, “Been wanting to do that for a while.”

You grin before replying, “Me too.”

“Good,” he says before he grabs you by your neck pulling you into another kiss and another until you were tired.

Needless to say you were never tired.

— ㅤ LEE JIHOON !

Jihoon the sweet boy with anger issues.

So now you are here listening to him rant at how messed up the song sounds because one of the assistant producer decided it would be good to add drum sounds.

Truth be told you were rather admiring his face than even attentively listen.

Because he looked so good especially when he is mad and then he looks even more adorable.

You did try to calm him down but that didn’t work as he ignores you and puts his headphones back on.

You sigh and giggle a little at your boyfriend’s red face before you get an idea.

You slowly knock on his headphones and wait for him to respond.

After a quiet moment he opens his headphones and opens his mouth.

Again.

And to do what? Rant.

Before he can do it you pull his chair towards yourself and put your fingers over his lips shushing him.

He looks flabbergasted at your sudden moment before locking eyes with you.

You take the opportunity to press your lips to his as his eyes widen at your bold move.

You senses come back as soon as it was gone and you try to pull back.

But he grabs you by your waist pulling you closer.

The kiss feels light and heavy all at once and you would be lying if you say it feels like a first kiss.

But maybe everything feels familiar with a person you love.

When you break apart you feel him smile lightly as your noses still touch.

“Why are you smiling?” you ask and he shakes his head already knowing the answer.

He is whipped he knows, as he pulls you into another sweet kiss.

ARA'S NOTES ㅤ,ㅤ this has been in my drafts way too long and i finally thought of publishing it, i swear maknae line will be out soon !

ㅤㅤ ᶻzㅤ( TAGLIST ) 𓂃ㅤ fill this or comment or ask to be added.

@slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @haneagerr

@aaa-sia @yeosayang @hursheys @okshu

ㅤㅤ(ㅤㅤ© arafilez on tumblrㅤㅤ)

[hedwig221b]

sterek twilight au

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SIX

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @xxloveralways14 @patscorner @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @makethemhoesmad @authentic-girl03

warnings infidelity, some sexual content

kalena speakss 🪽! this is easily my favorite chapter so far (for reasons that will become obvious towards the end) don’t expect another back to back update bc it’s not happening 😭 maybe thursday or friday at the earliest, i still have priorities!

June 2025 — Crypto.com Arena, Los Angeles, California 

“Paige, your shot wasn’t falling tonight like we are used to seeing from you. What was different tonight for you than either nights?”

It’s this that I’m not quite yet used to. The post lost pressers. It was different in college, where the team had way more wins for every one loss, but right now we’re at .500 and each time a loss follows a win and they ask me the same variation of the same question I get irritated.

But I’m media trained, which means I just answer the question no matter how dumb I feel it is. The real answer is that I played like shit tonight, forcing shots and getting into my head. Instead, I’m forced to say:

“We’re playing a team that has the reigning defensive player of the year and was just in the finals. It was gonna be a dog fight, for us to get settled against a defense like that, and they simply out performed us.” I look down at the stat sheet in front of me, I had 5 turnovers to my 4 assists, and I fucking hate turning the ball over. 

“Kayla McBride is a dog, she guarded me well tonight, forced me into some bad shots and got a few turnovers from me. But I gotta take all that and learn from it, it’s still too early in the season to stress out over things that are fixable.”

I'm the only one sitting at the podium tonight, Rickea and Dearica doing theirs together and Zia who had just gone before me. I knew what the gist of the questions would be, turnovers, defense, and the most gruesome: injuries.

“We saw you roll your ankle pretty bad tonight. Even though you finished the game, can you tell us a bit about the seriousness of it?” It’s a different reporter now, one that I recognize from our win the other night.

I shake my head. My ankle was fine up until he just mentioned it. Now, it stung bad. I had some extra tape around it, it was only sore, while I was sitting but walking and running full speed on the court made that shit hurt like no other. 

“It’s not serious.” I reply honestly. “We got two days off before the next game at home so I’m not worried. I’m gonna treat it like any other tweak and just follow what the trainers got for me, and hopefully we have a better night against Minnesota on Friday.”

It seems like that is a sufficient answer for the rest of the reporters in the room when I hear that wonderful “no more questions.” I stand up gingerly from my seat. They don’t miss my slight limp, but after a few steps the pain shakes off and it just feels uncomfortable. 

When I get back to the locker room it’s damn near empty except for Cameron and Rae. I give them both curt nods before heading over to my locker.

They don’t speak to me, which I’m silently grateful for because I might snap at them unintentionally. Losing is one thing, playing like dog shit is another, but my ankle really put the nail in the coffin.

I attempt to clean up my locker a bit, making life a little bit easier for the ladies who’re gonna come in and clean up when we leave. I throw my jersey and shorts in the growing pile of towels and warm ups and all other gear before reaching for my phone in the bag. 

just saw the injury on tv, pray it’s not too bad ❤️‍🩹

That’s the second most recent text in my phone, from about an hour ago from Maraye. It just briefly brings a smile to my face that I can’t even fight. It’s crazy to me that even when I’m at my grumpiest she finds a way to make me forget about it all.

I scroll through the rest of my notifications before tapping on her contact. I see that she texted me multiple times tonight throughout different parts of the game.

don’t fuck up my parlay tonight. jk good luck fav! 7:09pm

OKAY BLOCKKK GET UP THEN 7:20pm

omg the cross over??? don’t do her like that p 😮‍💨  8:03pm

I laugh fights through my lips, she told me in Atlanta she would start live texting me during games, I didn’t think she was serious. Nevertheless, I find it adorable. Maraye, throughout the busyness that is her schedule, turned on my game and watched the whole thing, keeping me posted on all her thoughts throughout the night.

I’m so beyond saving.

My thumb scrolls back down to the bottom of the thread. I can’t deny the way my heartbeat quickens in my chest at the choice of heart emoji. It’s not quite a red heart, but it’s enough to let me know she cares. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here like I’m in high school again, psycho analyzing her texts and gushing over them until my face is red.

“You headin’ out?” I look up and Cam is getting ready to leave. She’s going to be fully cleared to play this week, probably not playing with us until right before All-star. I’m excited for her, and I can tell that she is too because it’s practically beaming off of her.

I nod. “Yeah, inna minute. I’ll catch you in the morning.” Cameron takes that answer and walks out alongside Rae. I grab my back shortly after them, getting up and leaving the locker room. The arena is quiet, so is the parking garage as I make my way out there. The chirp of my car alerts me to it. I drop my bag in the trunk before sitting down in my seat.

The cushion practically eats me alive, I haven’t been this physically exhausted in months. 

Then I’m reminded that Maraye and I’d thread is still open on my phone. When I glance at the time I realize it’s not that late, I know that if I go home, I’ll just fall into the rabbit hole of watching film all night.

Instead I reach for the phone heavy in my sweatpants pocket. My thumbs begin typing away before sending Maraye a text back.

Nah it’s not all that bad 

You busy? Or can I slide?

I make sure my phone is connected to the speakers. When He’s Not There by Kehlani plays through the car while I get settled. Following that, I place my phone on its spot on the center console. It isn’t until Maraye’s name flashes on my carplay screen that I finally pull out of the parking garage.

yes please, come see meee

—

Paige sits comfortably to my left on my couch. Her leg propped on my coffee table with a bag of ice resting on her swollen ankle. 

It’s her first time at my apartment, but even then she navigates the place like she’s been here countless of times. It feels so similar to our friendship, just comfortable. 

Her arm is draped over my shoulder as I nestle into her side. When she first came over, I sat on the other side of the couch, so far away from her you would think we were fighting. And then she started talking, pulling me closer with her words until I sat right next to her. My body is leaning into her warmth.

An NBA finals game plays on the TV. Knicks versus the Thunder, it’s in the last few minutes of overtime, a high intensity game that Paige swore she couldn’t miss a second of.

“He’s so fine.” I chirp jokingly, Shai Gilgeous Alexander is on the screen, about to shoot game tying free throws.

Paige pulls her arm off of me, looking down at me incredulously before reaching for my remote. She lowers the volume on the TV, reducing Mike Breen’s commentating to a whisper.

“Who, Shai?”

“Yeah. You don’t think so?” I ask, looking up at her with a grin.

“I’m like a raging homosexual, but if you like it I love it?”

I laugh at that, pushing her hair away from my view. It cascades down her shoulders in soft bright strands that tickle my face. 

“You can never just laugh at my jokes.”

“Your jokes aren’t funny.” Paige says. The face she makes reacts to her own statement like it’s obvious, when we both know I could make her laugh until she cried if I wanted to. “And Shai isn’t your type.”

I move from my spot next to her, jumping up and turning my attention to her face, while hers are stuck to the game. The way she is seated briefly makes me forget my train of thought. Her legs are spread comfortably and she leans back on the couch with her arms against the back of the couch. She looks like a fuckboy, and in any other scenario I would make fun of her for it, but the TV glow shines on her face just right and her cologne in my nose nearly makes me go blind.

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s my type then, Paige?”

A commercial cuts on and Paige finally draws her eyes away from the screen. “What, Julian’s lightskin ass wasn’t the giveaway?” She laughs at her own joke, it’s stupid, but I love that laugh. So uniquely her. “Or y’want me to say you like six foot blonde girls.”

I roll my eyes, and when my vision clears up again, Paige is grinning at me.

“C’mon it was funny!”

“I don’t like women, idiot.”

“You like me.”

“I do not. I don’t even know why I let you hang out around me.” My body turns and my back hits the couch with a soft thud. Just to annoy her I sit further away from her body.

“Yeah okay, ma. You keep tellin’ yourself that.” Paige’s voice is low, a deep and raspy tone that I have never heard from her before. With Julian that had always been a given— he’s a man with a deep voice, that’s obvious. But when I hear it from Paige, I don’t know. It’s different.

My body just barely reacts to the pet name, but it’s there. The glob of saliva that pushes down my dry throat. And my legs just slightly press together. Paige reaches for the pocket of my striped shorts, tugging me back to my original spot in the curve of her body. 

“You’ve really never done anything with a girl before?”

“Paige—”

“No, not to be annoying. I’m just wondering.” She shrugs. Her hand reaches over to flick the bag of ice off her ankle and brings her leg down to my carpet. She looks down at me slowly, a lick of her lips and scan of my face lets me know she’s listening, waiting for my response.

I return her gaze. “Yes, I’ve really never done anything with a girl before.”

“Why? We’re much better. Better than whatever Julian is doing for you, I can tell you that much.” Paige’s voice is smug, teasing almost. I don’t know if she’s trying to rile me up between my legs or in my heart so I defend Julian. Either way it’s working, my heartbeat quickening in my chest.

“You seem sure about that.”

She nods. “I am. I think you forget how often you complain to me about that guy.” She says with a laugh.

The game in front of us is dying down, a three point lead for the Knicks with 40 seconds left in overtime, Oklahoma just now calling a timeout. I know she’s into the game, way more than me, but still she looks at me with an intensity that makes it feel like we’re the only two things in the world.

“Doesn’t mean a girl could do it better.”

Her eyes darted from my eyes to my lips, I’m expecting them to move. To look back at my eyes or even at the TV but she doesn’t. Just me.

“Y’believe that?” Paige asks me.

“Uh huh.” 

I’m going to lose. Whatever is going on with Paige and I, what has been going on for the last few weeks. The banter, the tension, the constant touching, it’s all a fight. Her and I are going back and forth like a fucking tennis match and she’s about to win. She’s about to make me lose whatever is left of my composure and grab the collar of her Hopkins High School t-shirt and kiss her until there’s no more breath in my lungs.

“Yeah? Ion know, can’t knock it till you try it.” She says, leaning into me for all of 5 milliseconds before sitting back in her seat and looking at the screen. The volume raises on my TV the cheers and commentary bouncing off the walls of my home.

Paige has left me frozen. Stuck there, in the exact position that she left me in. My eyes staring into the side of her perfect skin, burning holes there if I had the capability. I need her. My thighs are damn near glued together to keep me from dripping down my couch. 

I adjust my position some, sitting uncomfortably on my heels but with the way Paige is manspreading, it gives me just enough to be an inch taller than her. She looks at me, eyes trailing from my thighs past my covered stomach and chest, suddenly I’m hyper aware of how close my tits are from falling out of my Skims top.

“There some’ you wanna tell me, angel?” She asks. I hate the way that nickname makes me feel. She’s the only one that calls me that, the only one who makes me feel so small with just a single word. “Or you jus’ gonna keep lookin’ at me?”

The words just barely die in the air before I’m leaning into her, pressing my lips to hers. 

It starts off soft, so soft. Her body hesitates, like she knows better than to kiss me back but she does so anyway, tilting her head further and deepening the kiss. Paige hums against me, her arms still pressed against the back of the couch as if she has to avoid touching me. As if the second her hands touch my body then it’s game over. 

She bites my bottom lip, making me moan against her. I further into the kiss, cupping her cheek and then it really is game over. Paige reaches for my hips, lifting my body onto her lap and settling my thighs on the outside of hers.

Her tongue is entering my mouth, warm and tasting like candy. They’re clashing, messy and sticky and so damn hot. Now that I’ve gotten a taste of her I’m not sure I want to give it up. 

Paige roams my body with fervor. Trailing just a bit further to grab at my ass, kneading it in her large and veiny hands. I pull back from her breathlessly. Her hair is messy, lips so swollen and pink. It leaves me soaked as a response.

“This is doin’ so much damage. Y’know that?” She asks. Her hand travel back up my body to the back of my neck. I know it’s wrong, but still I let her pull me back into her. 

“Mmm, Ion wanna— stop.” I speak against her lips, letting her kiss me as she pleases. Grope me as she pleases. Talk to me as nasty as she wants to. I miss it, the feeling of being so vulgar with another person. Paige is on a different level and I want so much more. More of her, more than anyone has ever given me but for whatever reason I know that she can.

My phone starts ringing. I try to pull back to answer it but she pulls me right back, navigating my mouth with her tongue.

“Don’t.” She mumbles.

“I gotta.” I tell her pulling back with such force that I’m almost falling off the couch. I need to. Because if I don’t stop, I’m gonna let her see me in my most vulnerable state and even I know how wrong that would be. 

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, swiping to answer the call before I can even see who it is.

“Hello?” My voice is wheezy, and I’m huffing and puffing into the speaker.

“Hey, baby. You home?” 

It’s Julian. Of course it is. Of course God would let this man call me in the middle of making out with Paige just to make me feel guilty. Like the asshole I so obviously am right now.

“N— yeah. Yeah, but I’m busy. Sorry.” I stutter. “Paige is over right now.” I tell him honestly. But still, my breath hitches at my mention of her name. She rubs my thighs while I speak, looking at me like I’m a piece of meat. 

Her hand travels to her mouth, holding up one finger to her lips with a snide glare. I reach to slap her hand away, barely listening to what Julian says to me on the other line. 

Blah blah blah I miss you blah blah blah needa start hanging out with me blah blah less Paige. It’s gibberish. And I don't care.

“Yeah, okay. Goodnight Ju.” I tell him, bothered by his continued talking and wanting to occupy myself with something else. Namely, the pink lips in front of me that look so fucking pretty and the gorgeous face just inches away from mine.

I toss my phone on the couch after Julian responds and hangs up.

“You fuckin’ like me.”

“And don’t.” Just when I’m about to hop off of her lap, the TV blares loudly.

“Bang! Bang! Shai Gilgeous-Alexander takes us into double overtime!” Mike Breen’s cheers echo into my ears. Paige looks past me, obviously upset that she missed the shot.

“Damn. He’s good and fine?”

“Dont get fucked up, Raye.”

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

.

“I'm good, Stiles.”

Stiles thinks about the times when, all too often, he himself says I'm good in that particular way, and thinks about how it actually means everything in his life is currently lighting up like a dropped match landing in a trail of gasoline.

In the space of a single heartbeat, he knows he would somehow harness the contents of an entire fucking lake to dampen down that metaphorical trail for Derek, murdering the thought of that lost little boy playing Hide-Go-Seek in Derek's pale eyes.

Only he isn't about to start talking about things being on fire. Not to Derek, not ever.

Instead he says, “I always had this rule, you know, where I’d flat out ignore a problem and wait for it to—and I used to swear to myself that this would actually happen—” His lips drag themselves up one side of his face as he sweeps an arm dramatically through the drizzling rain and the pressing twilight. “—just go away.”

He then allows his arm to fall unceremoniously to his side, and the sound of hand slapping khakis rings out through the sparse and quiet branches of the preserve's stripped bare trees.

“Okay.” Derek says the word with an infinitesimal shake of his head, looking as if he wants Stiles to stop talking.

Thing is, if Derek wanted Stiles to stop talking he would say Stiles, stop talking.

So, Stiles troops on.

“And it kind of worked, a little bit. For a little while, at least. ” He takes a hit of chilly November air. Releases it slowly, enjoying the crazy plume of breath-smoke it creates. “Until I met you,” he shrugs.

Derek blinks and it's a betrayal, giving away his hard-won secrets.

Stiles briefly wonders who else—who left in the world—would know this about the werewolf standing opposite of him. Stiles doesn't need to be a ʼwolf to know this stuff, not when it comes to Derek Hale.

He tries not to look at Derek's lips when Derek licks them before asking, “What are you talking about, Stiles?”

“Magick,” he answers, his feelings and other things shifting underneath the layers of his skin, crackling away like a hundred tiny Roman Candles traversing his bloodstream and manifesting as gooseflesh.

Rolling his hoodie sleeve, he lifts a cold hand between the two of them and allows a miniscule fraction of whatever beats like a heart at the earth's core to flow up through the ground and into his feet and up his legs and down an arm, warm and thrilling, to then spring free out of his right palm.

A small sphere of pure light around the size of a tennis ball now glows about an inch above his hand, kind of like an oversized firefly—and just as alive.

“Cool as fuck, huh?” Stiles mutters, basking in its incandescence, super-proud of himself. Then he gets to his point. “Deaton showed me how to harness my spark, yeah? But I would never have found it in the first place, if you hadn't followed Scott and I into the woods that day.”

Derek blinks again. His jaw ticks like a clock.

“Stiles, that's a little like saying one, two miss a few, ninety-nine, a hundred,” he deadpans, and Stiles can't help but bark out a laugh.

Then he steels himself for one anticipatory moment before daring himself to take a step closer to Derek.

Derek stays put.

“Doesn't make it any less true,” Stiles shrugs.

Derek just stares at him for a moment, before peering down properly at Stiles's little orb, for the first time since Stiles summoned it.

“You've been practising,” he says simply, his eyebrows doing their thing.

He's now staring at Stiles's effort as if he wants to sink his fangs into it, like you would a quarter to test if it's real.

“Is it freaking you out?” Stiles asks.

“No,” he answers flatly. “I think it's cool as fuck,” and he looks up at Stiles like he might want to keep looking.

Stiles wants him to never stop.

“Then here, you can have it,” he says.

He takes another step closer to Derek.

They are toe to toe, now, and still Derek doesn't bolt, nor pounce, nor warn Stiles off.

So, Stiles—really slowly—reaches for Derek's hand.

Derek lets him.

Stiles then transfers the light to Derek's palm, cupping his hand around Derek's to ensure it keeps hovering there. He directs their hands to Derek's chest, stopping right over his heart and flattening them both there, he and Derek watching as Stiles's spark dissipates into Derek's body, leaving behind a few wispy tendrils of light that Stiles guides back into himself with a couple of waves of his free hand.

“Now, whenever you're good, I can be right there being good with you, even if I'm not around,” Stiles says, and then he hopes and hopes when he asks, “Is that okay?”

Derek smiles, and it's the first truly happy-looking smile that Stiles has been privileged enough to witness blooming on that beautiful, beautiful face of his.

“It's better than okay, Stiles,” he says. “It's magick.”

.

unedited, soz! this is for @dontcallpanic (pip knows why) <3

.

...edited version now found HERE on ao3 :)

[loulovingho]

Okay but imagine eddie and tommy getting into trouble. Like life on the line, deep shit trouble and tommy is severely injured. He tells eddie to leave him- just go- and come back once he gets help. But eddie is like hell no because “if anything happens to you Buck will kill me” then Tommy doubles down because “if anything happens to you evan will kill me!” and that’s when Eddie says “I guess we’ll both just have to make it out of here then”

like that’s my wet dream…

[randomshipperhere]

I tell you guys this has got to be the vibes of the fics.

[saetoru]

al-haitham’s the kind of guy who tilts his head slightly for a kiss before you even lean in to give him one. he just knows it’s coming. expects it. trusts it’ll happen.

he’s yawning when he sits at the table for breakfast, hair slightly disheveled from sleep. he sits down and when you place the mug of coffee in front of him, his head angles a little for that kiss you place on his cheek.

he’s drowned in endless paperwork at the akademiya when you stop by to visit, chuckling when he gives you that look of despair at the all the work he has to do. you don’t even manage to walk up to him fully before he’s leaning in and waiting for the kiss to the top of his head.

he’s shirtless in the bathroom, brushing his teeth at night when you walk in to brush yours too, bumping hips with his as you giggle. you don’t even have to turn before he’s tilting his head so he’s exposed and ready for that gentle peck you leave at his jaw.

“have you ever noticed how demanding you are for these,” you chuckle one day, pressing a kiss to his cheek to prove your point.

he grunts, leaning in and burying his head into your neck as you greet him at the door after a long day. “what makes you say that,” he mumbles.

“you’re ready for one before i’ve even come close,” you grin, “what if one day i don’t kiss you?”

“you’d stop kissing me?” he asks, squeezing your hips as he nuzzles into your neck. something tells you he already knows your answer.

and he’s warm. he’s close. he’s here and he’s everything all at once. he’s all you need and everything you’ve ever wanted. he’s the messy hair of your mornings and the pouty lips of your afternoons and that shirtless back of every night. he meets you halfway—maybe even takes the first step so you don’t have to.

he leans in for that kiss before you do. because he needs you, wants you, loves you—and he never lets you forget it. so you turn your head, press your lips against the side of his head and run your fingers through his hair as he sighs in content.

“no,” you hum, falling in love all over again, “no i’d never stop kissing you.”

[overlordraax]

Here is my Secret Solenoid for @hapships One of the prompts was for Slipstream and Windblade to meet up in one of Cybertron's last remaining ballrooms. It was such a sweet prompt and I was doing a lot of comic based stuff in November so this happened as well.

Do hope you enjoy! It's been lovely to see @secretsolenoid-revived organising this event! Thank you!

[fandomwriterstuff]

Sparks Fly

Poly!Marauders x fem!reader

Words: ~7.4k

Loosely inspired by Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

You would be attending your seventh year at Hogwarts in the next few days, and, as a muggle-born witch, you would be sorely missing your iPhone. Modern things like cell phones, smart watches, and ballpoint pens weren’t allowed on castle grounds. So there you were, the day before taking the train back to school, downloading as many songs as you could into your old iPod nano. It was old tech, but it was sturdy, it could hold a charge, and it was easily concealable. Muggle contraband was frowned upon but you figured your head of house would be understanding if you got caught. 

Professor Granger-Weasley was a legend, and you were lucky to be in Gryffindor house under her watchful eye. You’d heard even more wonderful things about her predecessor, Professor McGonagall, but that was before your time. Professor Granger-Weasley was one of the rebel witches and wizards who took down Voldemort in the second wizarding war. 

Professor Longbottom was also among the list, but you had a huge girl crush on your head of house. It was hard not to, she was independent and powerful while still maintaining her femininity and soft touch. 

The only thing you weren’t looking forward to this year was seeing your ex-girlfriend. A Ravenclaw who was more focused on her studies than your relationship, you were still shocked and heartbroken this past spring when she broke things off. 

However, you thought as you walked up to the castle for your last year, this is going to be my busiest year yet, no room to worry about romance. 

You see, you’d be taking extra classes this year. Your head of house had expressed to you that you could use her time turner to make sure you could attend all the classes that you wanted. You were ambitious, and headstrong. It was going to be awesome. 

The issue, however, was that as you were going to use it for the first time on day one of the school year, your ex ran smack into you, causing you to lose your grip on the spinning rings that encompassed the tiny hourglass. It also caused you to crash into the corner you were hiding in and knock your head into the wall.

Suddenly your vision was filled with a blurring whirlwind of students, all in Hogwarts uniforms, walking as if rewinding on double speed. Once you regained your ability to move (ow, your head hurt), you paused the spinning of the time turner and took a deep breath. 

Fuck. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, rubbing the back of your head and coming out of the corner. You needed to figure out what time it was. Unfortunately, you were met with another student running straight at you, red and gold tie flying out of his cloak and fluttering behind him as he looked back. “Fuck!” You backed up but there was nowhere to go, he turned at your voice and all you got a glimpse of was a pair of wide eyes behind a pair of thick glass and a head of curly dark hair. He knocked your head back into the wall and the only thing you could think of as you felt a searing pain in your skull was that there was no way you’d gone far enough back to see Harry Potter’s days at Hogwarts.

When you woke up, you were in the infirmary. Blinking, you looked around and the bespectacled boy, who was decidedly not Harry Potter (but who had a very strong resemblance to him), perked up at your alertness.

“Hey, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to run into you. Was in a bit of a hurry. Madam Pomfrey’s taking good care of you, though,” his words blurred into the background as you took in your surroundings. Things looked similar, but your infirmary had a different nurse by a different name. You didn’t know a Madam Pomfrey. You must have gone back further than you thought. The thought sent a panicked jolt through you as your heart rate skyrocketed. Fuck.

“What… Um,” you paused, not sure who to trust with this information. But you didn’t have anybody else, and this guy had waited by your bedside to make sure you were okay. “What year is it?” His tanned skin blanched and his eyes went wide. 

“Have you got a worse concussion than I thought? I didn’t think I ran into you that hard. I’ll call for-” you reached out and grasped his arm before he could stand. 

“That’s not it,” you sighed. “I was using a time turner and my ex girlfriend ran into me and I messed up my calculations and I was supposed to go back about an hour and a half and I think I’ve come back like… several years.” You put your best pleading look on your face to make yourself seem genuine, you needed him to believe you. 

“Well,” he drew the word out, and you sort of liked the way his lips wrapped around it. He had a nice voice. “I can help you figure that out, even if it does sound a bit unbelievable. What year did you come from?” He was smiling awfully disarmingly, and you sighed, internally bracing yourself. 

“Twenty twenty-four.”

Your assailant went through what looked like all the stages of grief before landing on hesitant acceptance. So you were further back than you thought. 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” he said in that smooth voice, and you closed your eyes against the headache you knew was coming. “It’s nineteen seventy-seven.” 

“James, did you hit the poor girl so hard she forgot what year it was?” Another voice approached, but your mind was reeling. 1977. You were trying to think of any famous James’ but that’s such a common name and you were always awful at wizarding history. 

That was, until the second person walked up. Sirius Black. A very young Sirius Black.

“Sirius Black?” Your brain-to-mouth filter must have broken. 

James looked over at you, eyebrow raised, as if saying I thought you were from the future.

“He’s,” you paused, both their inquisitive sets of eyes on you. “He’s famous where I’m from,” you muttered, eyes searching around. If that was Sirius Black, this must be James Potter. Oh, Merlin. You were in for it. 

“She’s from the future,” James deadpanned to his friend, and you facepalmed. Like, literally. You slapped your hand to your face. 

However, Sirius seemed to take his friend at his word, only raising an eyebrow at that bold declaration.

“Please don’t tell anyone else,” you groaned and turned your legs over the side of the cot you were on to make your way to standing, despite your pounding headache. 

“Well we’re going to have to tell Moony and Wormtail,” James added matter-of-factly. “Friends don’t keep secrets this big from each other.” You groaned and stretched, cracking your aching back in the process.

“You can do that. I need to make a plan,” you took a step forward. Or, you tried to. Maybe you were actually concussed, because you wobbled a bit and nearly fell over. You would have crumbled to the floor if not for James and Sirius’ quick reflexes. 

“I may be worse off than I originally thought,” you grumbled. “But I am fine,” you pulled your arms and waist free from their strong arms and took a much slower step. “See? I’m fine.” You were a bit lightheaded and your head hurt more than a bit. But if you were going to fix this, you’d need to see the headmaster. 

You knew they were watching you, and you were studiously ignoring it. So studiously, in fact, that when you finally made it to the entrance, you ran into what must have been either an immovable object or an unstoppable force for the millionth time that day. Yet again, before you crumpled into the floor like a broken toy, strong arms reached out and helped you up. 

“Sorry about that, beautiful,” you blinked slowly and looked up into another magnificent face. This one was littered with scars and freckles. 

“They don’t make boys this pretty where I’m from,” as soon as the words left your mouth you wished you’d died on the spot. However, the boy (who must have been Remus Lupin) only smiled at you indulgently.

“On second thought,” James called out. “I think I knocked her into the wall harder than I thought.”

That was your introduction to the Marauders. You met Peter soon after. He’d been distracting the professor James was running from. They walked you to the Gryffindor common room, explaining that it might be best to recuperate while the headmaster was out of town. 

“I really am sorry for running into you,” James was apologizing for the umpteenth time, and you were beginning to get the feeling that he was a real softie. Big muscles, strong jaw, but a big teddy bear inside. 

“It’s alright,” you said for the millionth time. “You were the second person to knock me into a wall headfirst today, and the first time I think was on purpose. So you’re really in my good graces. You’re just clumsy.” 

“Someone knocked you into a wall on purpose?” Remus looked rather concerned, eyebrows pulling together from where he perched in a comfy looking armchair in an even comfier looking sweater. 

“Oh yeah, you did say that your ex ran into you,” James nodded to himself. “Though I didn’t think she did it on purpose.” You were trying to ignore the raised eyebrows of your new acquaintances. Maybe people weren’t cool about bisexuals in the seventies? 

“Yeah well she was a Ravenclaw. They are notoriously bad at interactions with other people,” you grumbled. “I thought I could change her,” you shrugged humorlessly. “I was wrong. She still harbors ill feelings towards me.”

They were still looking at you quietly.

The silence dragged on. 

“Look, I know it’s like the nineteen hundreds but if you’re homophobes we’re going to have issues,” you put on your deadliest glare (or… whatever you could put on your face with the headache plaguing you).

Peter barked out a laugh, which seemed a bit unlike him. He’d been a quiet and nice boy, nothing like the traitor you knew him to grow up to be. Four sets of eyes snapped to him and he rolled his eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about us being homophobes,” Peter elaborated, and, well… You supposed you would have to take him at his word. You shrugged. 

“So, if the headmaster is gone, what do I do? I don’t want to mess with the time turner and end up even further back. I don’t even know if it goes forward,” you asked when the night was deepening. 

“You could talk to Minnie in the morning,” Sirius recommended. Right, they had mentioned Professor McGonagall at some point earlier. You were going to fangirl to death.

“But I don’t have clothes or a room or identification. All I have is what’s in my pockets which is literally just my,” you reached in and felt around. “A handful of galleons and my iPod.” You were met with questioning looks and you sighed. Right. 1977. “It plays music.”

You pulled it out of your pocket, the old corded headphones all knotted up. As you untangled them you explained that you could download digital music onto it. You weren’t sure if it made any sense to them, so you told them you’d show them some other time. 

“It’s muggle tech, and it’s from the early 2000s. So it’s old by my standards,” you shrugged. 

“Hey, what am I famous for?” Sirius finally asked after a beat of silence. You swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. You couldn’t just tell him that he wrongfully spent twelve years in Azkaban. You’d have to word it carefully.

“You saved the child of the prophecy and helped in the effort to win the war.” 

“The war?”

“I feel like I am genuinely going to fuck something up if I tell you any more,” the words were said apologetically. You weren’t sure what else to say. 

“Well, we can always ask Lily if they have an empty bed. Her roommate is always sneaking off to Ravenclaw tower to stay with her boyfriend,” Remus was back on task and you were grateful for the reprieve. 

“Nah, they’re all there tonight. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel,” James replied, and your hopes of getting a good nights’ sleep shriveled up. 

“Well then,” Sirius made a show of looking thoughtful. “You could stay in our room, though it’s against school rules to have a girl in the boys’ dormitory.” You weighed your options and only came to one conclusion. 

“Rules were meant to be broken,” you smiled awkwardly. “That is, if you all don’t mind. I can sleep on the floor if you have an extra pillow.”

“Nonsense,” Sirius stood and reached his hand out to you, which you gratefully took. You were still a bit unsteady on your feet. “I’ll share with Jamesie and you can have my bed.”

James groaned loudly, complaining that Sirius was a cuddler and a portable heater once asleep, but you could see his tanned cheeks darkening with a flush. That was curious. 

“As long as you don’t-” Sirius cut you off with a wave of his hand. 

“Don’t worry. It’s not a hardship to help out someone in need,” he smiled over at you, and you tried to think back on his history. You were always awful at history but if you remembered correctly he moved in with the Potter’s sometime during his teenage years. Maybe he was paying the kindness forward. 

The issue, however, was that you were in a room full of four boys in various states of undress. Pajamas was a loose term for what they wore. And you were still in your uniform. 

“Here,” you looked up to see Remus leaning against Sirius’ bunk with a pile of clothes folded neatly in his grasp. “We’ve given you a few options since you don’t seem to have any sleeping clothes. James will keep watch outside the bathroom door if you want to clean up.” You looked over and the muscular boy was giving you a thumbs up. “We can send your uniform to be cleaned by the house elves overnight.” You nodded mutely, overwhelmed by the kindness of strangers. 

“Thank you.” With that, you collected the stack of pajamas and James led you to the bathroom, which he quickly scouted and declared clear. 

Once inside, you exhaled deeply. This was a ginormous clusterfuck. 

You were glad, however, to find a towel and a bar of soap at the bottom of the stack. Cleaning up would definitely help clear your mind. 

Once clean, you changed into a pair of sweatpants that were too long for you, a white t-shirt, and a sweater that must have belonged to Remus. 

“Hey,” you cracked the door open and found James’ back facing you. 

“You done?” 

You hummed your assent and he turned, giving you a goofy smile. 

“Those don’t fit you very well.”

“Not everyone is ten feet tall, you know,” you rolled your eyes and followed the boy back into the dorm room. 

Once you were sat on Sirius’ bed, you felt the weight of your situation closing in on you, your heart pitter-pattering at breakneck pace. 

“So,” you started, drawing the word out as you picked at your nails. “I think I’m probably gonna have a menty b pretty soon, so if you don’t mind I’ll just close the curtains and consider my existence in silence.” There was a pregnant pause and you battled on. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I need to deal with the feelings I’m feeling right now.”

More pause.

“What, in Merlin’s name, is a ‘menty b’?” Sirius’ eyebrows were up in his hairline and you choked on a laugh that sounded more like a sob. 

“Uh, mental breakdown?” It sounded like a question when you said it, but it took a moment for you to realize that slang was a lot different in 1977 than it was in your time. 

“Are you going to be alright?” That was Remus, and you were beginning to get the sense that he was reading your facial expressions and tone of voice more effectively than the others. 

“Probably,” you shrugged. “But my other option is succumbing to the crushing meaninglessness of life, so,” you paused for drama this time. “I can suck it up, I just need a good cry and I’m not about to do that in front of four strangers.” 

“Fair enough,” Sirius muttered to himself. 

“So is everyone in the future so nihilistic?” Peter asked you, and you quirked an eyebrow at him. “What?” He asked, defensive. “Nietzsche was a wizard. He just dabbled in muggle philosophy from time to time.”

“Well, to answer your question, I would say that my generation is. But like nihilistic in the ‘nothing matters so I can do what I want’ way. Whereas the generation that preceded me is more ‘nothing matters and I’m fucking depressed about it’ way.” 

You were met with confused looks. You sighed, there was no way you could explain the nuances of millennials, gen z, and gen alpha in one night. 

“I’ll explain later. Goodnight, boys!” You smiled more cheerfully than you were feeling, and shut the curtains to Sirius’ bed, casting a silencing charm as you did so. 

You inhaled deeply, and exhaled until you couldn’t anymore. 

There’s nothing I can do tonight. Not until the headmaster is back. Tomorrow I’ll talk to the head of house and see about going to classes.

Until then…

You tucked your earbuds into your ears and selected a playlist that would maybe take your mind off the situation. 

The way you move is like a full on rainstorm

And I'm a house of cards

You're the kind of reckless that should send me running

But I kinda know that I won't get far

And you stood there in front of me just

Close enough to touch

Close enough to hope you couldn't see

What I was thinking of

Drop everything now

Meet me in the pouring rain

Kiss me on the sidewalk

Take away the pain

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

Get me with those green eyes, baby

As the lights go down

Gimme something that'll haunt me when you're not around

'Cause I see sparks fly, whenever you smile

You had the mind to turn off your iPod when you woke in the middle of the night, not wanting it to die. The next time you woke, it was to a knock on the wood frame of the bed. 

 “I’m up, I’m up,” you groaned and pulled open the curtains, the pinkish yellow early morning sun shining in. 

“If you want to talk to Minnie, you’ll have to catch her before breakfast,” James was whispering, and you peeked out to see Remus, Peter, and Sirius still asleep in their beds. 

“Why are you up?” You rubbed at your eyes and swung yourself out of bed, pleased to see your uniform had been returned by the house elves. “I mean, thank you,” you offered him a soft smile, which he returned tenfold. “But why are you up?”

“Gotta go for a run. I’ll see you later, no more running into walls, alright? Don’t want you doing any more damage to that pretty head of yours,” and with that, he was gone, leaving you flushed in the morning light. 

Jeez, handsome and flirty. I’m not going to survive it here. 

It wasn’t hard to find Professor McGonagall, and when she saw you, she stopped dead in her tracks. 

“Hi, Professor, I’ve been looking for you,” you approached her slowly as she raised an eyebrow at you, and you took that as your sign to keep going. It all came out in one long sentence, but your nerves were getting the best of you, to be fair. “So I was using my time turner to go back to take an extra class but someone knocked into me and it went back too far, like fifty years too far approximately, and I don’t know how to get back and I’d like to talk to the headmaster but I hear he’s not here right now,” you inhaled super deeply and pushed on. “And I’m a really good student I swear, I just don’t want to miss any classes until I get back so I was wondering if you could help me out?”

Stunned. Flabbergasted. Shocked. That’s what you were expecting. What you got instead was exasperation. 

“If this tomfoolery has to do with the mischievous boys in your house, I suggest you stop it now.”

“The - who?” Was all you could get out, and the exasperation only increased. 

“Potter, Black, Lupin, Pettigrew. Do these names ring a bell?”

“Well yes, but only because I’ve just met them. I promise I’m not lying. I’m in Gryffindor, I go to Hogwarts, I’m a seventh year student and it’s autumn of 2024 where I’m from.” 

She looked at you for a long time then, and you figured she could tell you were being truthful based on your desperation. 

“We will discuss this with the headmaster as soon as he returns. I will have a schedule prepared for you by the end of the day and you will start tomorrow. You would do well not to bring attention to yourself Miss…”

You gave her your name. 

“If you’ll excuse me, my day just got busier.”

When she was out of sight, you let out a big breath you’d been holding.

I can do this, I just need to lay low until the headmaster shows up.

“Hiya,” you whipped around at the new voice and cursed yourself for it, your head spiking with pain that you’d forgotten about. Maybe quick movements were to be avoided for the time being. “Haven’t seen you around here before, but you’ve got a Gryffindor tie on. Are you new?”

You were staring. You needed to stop staring. Start talking.

“Yes, I transferred from Beauxbatons.” The lie flowed out of you so smoothly you almost felt guilty. 

“Why on earth would you leave a posh school like that to come here?” She was laughing, she had such a pretty laugh, and you found yourself smiling. 

“It’s a long story,” you shrugged. 

“Well, Miss Mysterious, I’m Lily Evans, you can sit with me at breakfast today if you’d like.” 

It was just then that your stomach growled audibly. 

But more importantly. Lily Evans. Holy shit. 

You followed her to the great hall and sat down all in a state of numbness. She was an icon. A total badass. And you’d just met her. 

“Hullo, boys. This here is my new friend. She just transferred from Beauxbatons. Go on, introduce yourself,” she was looking at you expectantly and you turned to look at the rest of the table. A few other incredibly attractive women and the four boys you met last night who were giving you wide eyes. 

You gave your name with a tight smile and prayed they would play along. 

They did, for now, but you weren't sure how long you could keep up lying in front of these legends. Sure, the boys knew about you, but you couldn’t expect them to keep a secret forever. Especially Peter, a known secret teller. 

You explained to them that it was a short notice transfer and you wouldn’t have a schedule until tomorrow, but you’d been sorted into Gryffindor. Luckily, they didn’t ask any more questions and you were left to eat. 

The day flew by and if you were being honest, the next few did as well. Professor McGonagall gave you a typical seventh year schedule so your first few days weren’t stressful. She also assigned you a single room in the girls dormitory and gave you more uniforms. It meant you were lonely a lot, and you found yourself sitting in the common room a lot, reading or doing homework while you plotted your return home. 

It was Thursday of your first week in 1977 when Remus came to sit with you. You finished your homework reading and looked over at him. He was nice to be around, you could work in silence and still feel comfortable. 

“Haven’t seen you outside of class in a few days, we’ve been a bit worried you’d gone back to the infirmary for that concussion,” he was giving you a disarmingly gentle smile and you found yourself returning it. 

“No, just a headache now. And I’m really just waiting for the headmaster to get back so I can figure this all out. Though, I miss my roommates. Living in a single room is lonely.”

He frowned at that. 

“Can’t have that, why don’t you come to Hogsmeade with us this weekend? You can grab some essentials that I’m sure you’re missing, and we can get some more time with you.”

You found, yet again, the heat rushing to your face at the thought of time spent with such handsome boys. You nodded anyway. 

“I would like that.”

So, there you were, that Saturday, sitting in the Three Broomsticks with Sirius, James, and Remus (Peter was behind on his potions essay and was staying back). James and Sirius sat on one side of the booth, rather close together. You were beginning to think the three of them were in some sort of polyamorous situationship based on their casual proximity, their familiarity, and the sheer amount of physical contact they had with each other. But then you were seated next to Remus, whose sweater smelled of pine needles and wood and warm cozy things. And the reason you knew what he smelled like? He was seated so close to you that your thighs were maybe an inch apart, his arm slung across the back of the booth as he lounged back. He looked ever-so casual, but you were intensely aware of his presence.

His proximity to you and the general flirting you’d been the recipient of the last few days from the boys you sat with were the only reason you thought maybe they weren’t in a relationship. Because why would they flirt with you if they were? It was all so fucking confusing. 

Your attention was drawn back to the topic at hand by a slight tapping against your shoulder. Sirius and James were arguing about something, and despite his touch, Remus looked engaged in the debate.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” James suddenly turned to face you. 

“Yes, what do you think? Do you think Hufflepuff is going to beat us in the Quidditch finals this year?”

You scoffed a laugh. 

“Hufflepuff hasn’t won a Quidditch final in sixty years. There’s no-” you cut yourself off abruptly, heart in your throat. “I need to stop talking.”

James was grinning, though. 

“Told you so,” he stuck his tongue out at Sirius, and things were back to normal.

The next few days you were much more careful about what you said about the future. One slip up was minor, but it was really hard. The other thing you were struggling with was that the longer you stayed in 1977, the less you remembered why you had to keep your distance, why you had to be careful.

So, there you were, seated in the Gryffindor common room later that month, worried sick. The full moon had passed a few days ago and you hadn’t seen any of the boys outside of class since. 

Gnawing your lip, you tried to get back into your novel. 

“You said Sirius was famous where you’re from,” Remus suddenly dropped into the space beside you with a soft sigh, his arm draping around your shoulders. 

You hummed your confirmation as Peter, James, and Sirius all filed through and greeted you on their way to their room. 

“What about the rest of us?”

“What about you?”

He sighed, and you only noticed you were staring at him when he turned to look at you. 

“You’re being intentionally obtuse,” he didn’t say it meanly, but you still felt guilty. 

“I don’t think I should tell you why you’re all famous,” you mumbled, thinking about all of their horrible lives. His fingers started tracing shapes into the skin of your arm where they laid, and you found it difficult to concentrate. 

“I suppose that’s fair,” and again, you were staring. You saw the muscles in his jaw tense and release as if he was thinking about something stressful. “I just want to know,” he pressed his free hand into his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I just want to know what you know about-” he paused and seemed to lose his nerve, sighing deeply and resting his head against the back of the couch. 

You took a short moment to admire his profile before putting him out of his misery. First, though, you checked that you were alone in the common room. 

“You know, I think we all have issues. I mean, Sirius comes from a shitty family. Peter always gets left out of things. James always gets underestimated. My family disowned me when they found out I liked girls. But what I’m trying to say is, we all have issues and we have to find the people that care about us despite them, and love us because of them. That’s what we in the future like to call a Found Family. And yeah, family isn’t always the one you’re born into. Sometimes a family is a werewolf and three unregistered animagi.” 

You’d been looking into each other's eyes since the start of your little rant, the soft look in his gaze turning into bewilderment. 

“Really, it doesn’t matter why you’re famous, or what I heard about you before I met you,” you continued, taking a risk and gently holding his free hand between both of yours. “What matters is that you all helped me when I needed it, and I won’t forget it. And I’m forming my opinions of you based on what I know from your actions now, not what I read in a Daily Prophet clipping.” 

“You’re amazing,” the words were quiet, spoken reverently. You were forgetting again why it was a bad idea to give in to their flirting. 

“I mean, if you thought I was that amazing, you could just kiss me,” you shrugged, giving him a little grin. “Just saying.” 

He huffed a little laugh through his nose before he leaned down and kissed you with the softest lips. It was so gentle and wonderful and you felt his eyelashes tickle your cheek as he cupped your jaw and it was all perfect. Just perfect. 

“I meant to talk to you earlier about something but then the full moon happened and you were sitting here looking all beautiful and worried and I couldn’t help but ask if you thought I was a monster.” He pulled away a few inches to look at you, his long fingers still cupping your jaw. “But I don’t think I should wait. Because it would be dishonest,” you raised your eyebrows, asking him to go on. “Sirius and James and I are sort of,” he visibly struggled with the word he was looking for. “Well we’re sort of romantically involved, but it’s not a thing with a label,” he was grimacing, as if he knew you’d be mad at him. All you could do was smirk. 

“I fucking knew it.” 

“You - what?” 

“Yeah I could absolutely tell.” 

“Oh. Is that why you haven’t flirted back with us?” 

“Well to be fair, only you and James have been flirting with me.”

“Sirius hasn’t? He talks about how pretty and nice and special you are all the time.”

“Well he thinks I’m a lesbian so maybe he’s just respecting my boundaries.”

“He-” Remus paused, thinking. “He definitely thinks you’re a lesbian.”

“I think we should prank him,” your statement got a good reaction, Remus laughing joyously and nodding along. 

“Okay, what do you have planned?”

“Well, I’ve already somehow gained your affections,” he balked at you, unbelieving. “What? You’re like in the five most attractive people I’ve ever seen in my entire life, you’re smart, funny, popular, and you’re fucking kind. And I am a homeless time traveler with one pair of pajamas to my name.” 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, darling. But I'll have more time to convince you of that. Tell me about this prank.”

“I mean really it’s all to serve my selfish wants,” you laughed a little. “But if the three of you are in an unlabeled but ongoing polyamorous situationship, and all three of you are interested in me, I just think it could be… Let’s say mutually beneficial for the four of us to recognize and act on those feelings. And I think it would be funny for Sirius to find out I’m actually not a lesbian in a dramatic way. However,” you suddenly remembered your exes of years prior. “Who’s to say if you’re even interested in me in any way other than physically. I don’t know that, and I’m being awfully bold in assuming so. So maybe it’s a bad idea? Oh, fuck I’m going to actually have to move schools this is awful.” You were spiraling. 

“Please, breathe,” Remus was looking down at you, frown twisted in concern. “I’m speaking for myself here, but I bet the boys would agree, I’m definitely interested in you. You’re gorgeous, dove. But you’ve also shown yourself to be strong willed, warm hearted, and a trusting and genuine person. The three of us boys have some weird will-they-won’t-they thing going on, and it’s frustrating because we have real feelings for eachother, but I’m pretty sure Jamie is the only one who has fully developed emotional skills. And, yeah, we’ve been intimate, but how does one tell his best mate that he wants more than that?” Remus rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s hard. But you made it so easy for us to fall for you. It’s so easy to care about you, so easy to want you.” You were too busy in your panic before to make eye contact but now you were looking into Remus’ blown pupils. “So it’s not crazy, what you’re suggesting. And I definitely think it would be mutually beneficial.”

So you sat on the two-seater sofa in the common room for several more hours whispering into the night, cuddled up to Remus and hatching a plan to get James to make a move on you, and how to reveal your bisexuality to Sirius.

My mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea

You touch me once and it's really something

You find I'm even better than you imagined I would be

I'm on my guard for the rest of the world

But with you, I know it's no good

Things came to a head sooner rather than later. It was a Gryffindor victory party and James and Sirius were celebrating with the team. You’d spent the week sneaking glances with Remus, kissing sweetly in shadowed corners, and curling up together to read in the common room. You also spent the week being flirted with by James, who always knew how to make heat rise to your face. 

You were maybe a bit tipsy an hour or so in, and a boy you didn’t know was asking you about your time at Beauxbatons and telling you how much better Hogwarts was. He was so glad you had come to this party-

“-because I’ve been wanting to talk to you-” you were saved by a similarly tipsy James slinging his arm around your shoulder. 

“Hello, lovely,” his smile was brighter than the sun. Truly. You felt blessed just to have his gaze on you. “I saw you in the stands today, I’m glad you came,” the other boy wandered off, but you barely noticed. 

“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” It was the right response, because you were gifted another beaming smile in return. “Plus, you look really good in the uniform.” 

“Is that so?”

“Is what so?” Sirius was grinning as he walked up with three cups balanced in his hands, passing one to James and one to you, which you gratefully took. 

“I was just telling James how delicious he looks in the Quidditch uniform,” you blinked innocently, and you could see the gears start to turn in Sirius’ head. 

“Delicious?” James breathed the word, as if he hadn’t expected such a descriptive adjective to come out of your lips. It was just then that Remus swept Sirius away while he was distracted, and you clasped your fingers with James’, pulling him towards a darkened alcove. 

“And where are you taking me, pretty girl?” His charm was back in full force and you preened under his attention. 

“I just wanted to talk to you alone is all,” you replied, letting your back rest against the wall and using James as a privacy shield against the noise and lights of the party. 

“Well, you’ve got me,” your fingers were still loosely clasped, and he laid his free hand ever-so-gently on your waist. “What is it you wanted to talk about?”

“I have been scheming,” you started, and his dark eyes had an amused glint to them. “And I’ve been trying to get you to kiss me or ask me on a date, but it’s taking so long,” you drew the word out, whining, but in what you hoped was an endearing way. “And Remus and I thought-”

“Oh, so you’ve roped our dear Moony into your schemes now?” He was smiling softly, his affection for Remus and for you shining through. 

“Yes, well, he’s the brains of the operation, I’m the muscle.” you drew your manicured fingers up to grasp at James’ bicep (and what a wonderful bicep it was).

“So, what did the two of you cook up then?”

“Well, Remus is off getting Sirius into position, and I am here seducing you.”

“And what does Sirius have to do with you seducing me?” It was nice, having him this close, only centimeters between you. You could feel the heat off his body, his breath against your cheek. 

“Well, I’ve already gained Remus’ affections, and you flirt with me all the time so I was hoping seducing you would work and not totally backfire,” he was amused with your candor, you could tell. “And Sirius, well I’ve also got a major crush on him but he thinks I’m a lesbian.” You shrugged and James let out an incredulous laugh. 

“You really were scheming, weren’t you?” 

“Well when you’ve gotten emotionally attached to three amazing and beautiful boys who also seem to be pretty emotionally attached to each other,” you gave him a toothy smile. “You’ve got to jump at the chance.” You bit your bottom lip, the tiniest bit of anxiety creeping in. “Which leads me here, to you, in this dark alcove, baring my soul to you and hoping you’ll kiss me.”

“Well how could I deny you when you ask me so politely?” He whispered, adoration shining in his eyes for just a moment before he pressed forward, closing the gap between the two of you. James kissed you like he did everything he cared about: with passion and finesse. He was a great kisser, and he seemed happy to be kissing you, which was a wonderful experience.

The hand on your waist pulled you closer while the other rested at the nape of your neck, gently tilting you so he could explore your mouth better. You found yourself reaching up and feeling the muscles adorning his stomach and chest, your fingers trailing up until you could wrap your arms around his neck. 

You only broke away to breathe, and when you looked into James’ adoring eyes, your heart picked up the pace. You hadn’t felt this way since… well, ever. James, Remus, and Sirius made you feel wanted and cared for. It was wonderful.

“So, in this scheme of yours,” James started, laying a few kisses on your exposed neck. “What exactly are Sirius and Remus supposed to be doing right now?”

“Sirius should be walking over in a few seconds, jealous of me for kissing you or of you for kissing me. One or the other, maybe both. And then, well I’m no mind reader,” you peeked over James’ shoulder. “He’s coming over now so I guess we’ll see.”

It only took a moment for the elder Black brother to make it over to the alcove you were partially hidden in. 

“Tell me,” he spoke as he approached, shouldering in to stand next to James, eyebrow raised in question. “What have you got our sweet Jamesie in this dark corner for?”

“It’s the art of seduction, Sirius,” you smiled at him indulgently. “I wanted Jamie to kiss me just as much as I wanted you to realize that I like boys as well as girls. Got two birds with one stone.”

“And what are your intentions with him?”

“You should be asking what her intentions are with the three of us,” Remus was leaning against the wall, looking handsome as ever, and Sirius’ eyes shot over to him before landing back on you. He took a moment to process, and then he asked you, with a barely-there smile, what your intentions are with the three of them.

“I have feelings for all three of you, you three clearly have something going on with each other, and I am hoping and praying that you also have feelings for me. In which case, we have three options,” you held up three fingers and put them down as you started listing. “Option one, you don’t like me like that, you let me down softly, and we pretend this never happened. Option two, we go have really great sex because you think i’m attractive but you don’t have feelings for me. Option three, and this is my favorite one, we go on a date. All of us. And see where things go.” Your bravado was wearing thin, your heart in your hands as you waited for a response from any of them. 

There was a pause.

“I don’t want to pretend this never happened,” Sirius' voice was quiet and contemplative. “I don’t want to do option two either.” He paused, and you thought you could cry (but you weren’t sure why, you just felt overwhelmed). “I like option three the best, personally, but I’m going to have to consult the board on this one,” he was starting to smile more, that charming twist of his lips that you loved to see. “Boys? What do you think about that?” 

“Dating you two and this gorgeous angel? Literally my wildest dreams come true.” James was nearly vibrating with excitement and the three of you turned to Remus. 

“Why are you looking at me like that? I literally helped come up with this plan,” despite his words, he softened and reached out to stroke Sirius’ back and lock eyes with him and  James in turn. “There was never a doubt in my mind that I wanted to be with you, and our delightful schemer helped make it happen. And isn’t she a sight tonight?” His words had you flushed with heat, the attention of all three suddenly on you.

“Let’s dance, darling,” Sirius reached out to link your fingers together and pulled you out onto the dancefloor. You looked back only for a moment and caught a glimpse of James and Remus embracing in the alcove. “Eyes on me now, pretty girl. They already got to be on the receiving end of your seduction,” his hands were on your hips and yours were around his neck, playing with the baby hairs there. “I also find it unfair that you haven’t kissed me yet,” he was mock pouting in the most endearing way, and you couldn’t help but indulge him, so you pressed your lips to his. For once, everything was falling into place.

Masterlist

[c-o-t-o]

HOLY SHIT

HELP I AM NOT OKAY

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ エロチックトバー２０２４> MDNI / EXPLICIT CONTENT

TEETH TO YOUR FLESH 🍓 VINSMOKE ICHIJI X F! READER ＫINKTOBER DAY 6: BITING

🐙 requested by: Anonymous. Biting (Day 6) for Ichiji Vinsmoke and a female reader that’s his (promised) Fiancée since childhood days? ⚠️ tw: mdni. explicit content. not that sexual, more on the "romantic" side. arranged marriage. biting. 🐙 wc: 1.2k // kinktober 24 masterlist // join the taglist

“Auch! Mooooom, Ichiji bit me again!” you screamed.

Your mother snatched you from your little hand; a deadly stare made you silent almost instantly. The tears were kept at bay, as they just pooled in your eyelids. You shouldn’t, you mustn’t disobey nor piss off the Germa prince.

“Stop it, (Name). I told you; Ichiji-sama can do anything he likes! You will be killed if you disobey!”

You, by the time you were already born, were promised as future Germa 66’s king Ichiji as a wife. Somehow, to Judge himself and the rest of scientific crew, your potential was high enough to meet the future queen expectations -probably just to bare children even more modified than Ichiji himself-.

And the time flew with you having to put up with a kid that soon turned into a young man… You would lie if you said you didn’t miss him a bit when he became an adult; always from war to war, always training and studying… where was that kid that enjoyed messing with you? biting your arm all of a sudden, and even sometimes coming with tears in his eyes that nobody should see?

Yet, the time was close; the date set since forever, in which you would finally become his wife was around the corner. You were taken to his side of the Germa palace, were thousand maids started a month earlier to prepare you for your future husband…

“Miss (Name), Ichiji-sama will return today from a mission. You need to be ready for tonight!” one of the maids tells you.

Ah, that dinner you were told about a couple of months prior. Should you speak? Should you mention anything at all? What would happen tonight?

Dressed in red finest fabrics you stand in front of the mirror; your hair on a braid rests on your left shoulder and your skin exudes the sweet scent of chocolate and strawberry. You were specifically bathed in oils that smelt just like a sugary dessert.

Alone, with two guards behind you, you walk down an immense hall you remember from your childhood days. You were used to run from Ichiji’s biting torture; that kid had hyper fixated into using his teeth to play with you.

The opened doors of the dining room welcome you; a big table with only just two seats, one on each side, full of food you are sure two people can’t even remotely finish.

“Miss (Name), please take a sit. Prince Ichiji will arrive soon” a maître says, coming out of nowhere.

You nod and sit where you were indicated to do so. Nervous, you fidget with your fingers; It’s been a minute since you’ve seen him. Perhaps it’s been two minutes in total silence, but you felt it like an eternity until a warm, heavy hand slid through your shoulder and back.

“Sorry for the delay” his sweet voice, sweeter than he looks, reverberated inside you.

Your stiffened back remained that way as your eyes followed him walking to his seat. Wearing his prince attire, and not his Germa suit, Ichiji Vinsmoke had the appearance of prince charming – a very severe, not so friendly, and smoking hot prince charming-.

“Your hair has gotten a lot longer, hasn’t it?” he observes, once he gets comfortable. Ichiji acts a lot different that his brothers, he is a true royal. Manners are important if he wish to be the next King of these lands.

You take your eyes from the silver plate in front of you, to a swift look at him before answering. Cheeks on fire; when has he ever paid attention to your hair?

“I think so, Ichiji-sama… is it ok for you? or should I cut it?” you ask, grabbing the braid in between your hands.

Ichiji, taken aback, took some time before taking his dark cherry glasses off. For the first time in years, you are able to see his blue eyes again. And despite them being framed by an annoying frown, you realized that deep inside he is still a kid.

“Should a future queen ask such nonsense? Who am I to decide the length of your hair?” he asks, standing up and slapping the table. You, startled, blink a few times before freezing completely. Of course you must ask, you were taught you should obey him no matter what since the day you were born.

Ichiji’s annoyance grows the more you keep silent; he walks towards you, with his white cape flaming as he moves.

His hand, covered in little cuts he won’t admit he has from past battles, strongly takes the braid from your hands to inspect it.

“I don’t care how long your hair gets as long as it can be moved out of the way” he mutters, pulling so softly from it to let you know you should stand up.

The prince throws your braid off, letting it fall on your back and his hand land on your mandible. Just a finger there, and his thumb so close to your lips, seems enough to leave you breathless. Ichiji smirks; slowly, he moves your head to the side to expose your neck and coming close he simply murmurs some more words before attacking your flesh with sharp teeth…

“I don’t mind your hair, I don’t mind your clothes… MY only order is to let me enjoy your flesh, (Name)... and you smell, as always, so deliciously~”

You swallow, what order? If there isn’t anything you wish the most right now than him eating you alive?

He carves his teeth deep into your skin; marking your neck so that everybody knows Ichiji Vinsmoke’s future wife is only his.

You moan to his first attack, making the man topping you to slightly stop; that sweet whimper caused things to his insides he cannot even describe. His hands, in response, passed from your waist to your thighs, lifting you up to finally deposit you on the table. The food Scattered all around, he didn’t care and nor did you.

He rips the fine strings of fabric that were holding your dress up; he wants to enjoy your flesh, again, he doesn’t even care about the clothes.

“You’ve grown up…” he forgets, for a moment, that dominant role to become a simple man amazed by the beauty of your chest.

“You have as well…” you murmur, remembering once when you were innocent teenagers trying to discover what human anatomy looked like naked.

He smiles, this time so genuinely it almost scares you… Ichiji shouldn’t have feelings, yet you know he always hid them.

“Come’ere” he laughs, attacking your breasts with those sharp fangs you are so pleased to feel carving marks again… this time as adults, not innocently but so lustfully, so sinfully…

Slowly, your back finally meets the table. Ichiji falls on top of you, with his hands on each side of your shoulders and his hair slowly losing the hairdo; he looks so hot with his crimson hair down.

“I am dying to fuck you” he states, so needy. “Fuck me, then…” you whisper, with cheeks on fire and your nails carved on his back.

His eyes wander yours; his lips separate…

“You know I shouldn’t…” “I know…”

He can’t. He has it forbidden. Cruel rule imposed by his father, the King. He shouldn’t have intercourse with his wife if not before she’s been taken to the lab… exactly like his mother.

“Don’t tell anybody…” “I promise, I won’t…”

Taglist of amazing babes: @terrabear2003 @eyes-ofhell @cokou @seoul-is-a-dream @tinydonkeysforlife @appalost @themessedupsonata @adamsfanficstash @votaeto @ariesbbytings @animesnowstorm @lenablack9919 @anothersoulless 💖🍓

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER SEVEN

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

taglist @thaatdigitaldiary @ohbueckers @wbbgetsmewetter @rosemariiaa @tndaqlifwy @patscorner @pboogerswbb @xxloveralways14 @makethemhoesmad @h34rtsformilli @uconnpazzi @luvapaigeeyy @hedidnotpleaseme @paigesbabygirl @mopopshop @omg-imtumbling @ch12334 @wbb4l (sorry about these ones that didn’t work ☹️) @yassedsblog @jissy22 @blank-blank80 @brynslverr @melinaaa3 @alex-1347 @lolbods @girlypop05

kalena speakss 🪽! this is a filler chapter, everything starts to ramp up and get more messy (as if it isn’t already) starting next chapter ;)

June 2025 — New York City, New York

“Don’t even bring that up, oh my God.” Rickea laughs, reaching one of her long arms over to slap at my knee.

Rickea, Cameron, and I sit soundly in the green room, makeup placed deliberately on our faces. We played the Liberty last night, in a game with an outcome I would rather forget than talk about.

But today, after the team hopped on the first charter back to LA, we had a date with GQ. They called it The Teammates Quiz, and we were given the honor of being the first women’s sports team with the opportunity. I thought it was a cool idea, a game that I would certainly win because I know my teammates well.

However, it seems like these two know me just as well because they are airing my business out to everybody in this room right now. Well, maybe not all of it, but close enough. 

“Kea, you fell on your face in the middle of downtown LA. I’m with P, I’m so bringing it up.” Cameron laughs.

“I was drunk!”

“You were more sober than P. And she drinks like a man going through a divorce.” I instantly pull back from my makeup artist, looking over at my teammate incredulously.

“I do not!” I attempt to defend. “You two insisted on buying drinks after the draft, not me.”

Cameron, who’s seconds away from bursting out in tears of laughter, speaks up through her ragged breaths. “You got so drunk you were making out with random girls in the club.”

“Least I ain’t fall on concrete in the middle of LA.” I laugh, sitting back in my seat and allowing Joanna to get back to doing my makeup. I let her and Brittany take control of my look, they know best after all. 

You would think with the way the three of us all talk to each other that our on court chemistry is terrible, but it’s the complete opposite. Probably why GQ asked us to do this little segment today. I cut my attention back to my teammates when Rickea’s voice cuts through the air again.

“Have you talked to Raye lately?”

The way she asks it seems skeptical. Like she knows something, or is suspicious of something and I can’t pick up why. We’ve been keeping our friendship pretty cordial— at least to our friends and in public.

Maybe Maraye told her about the kiss. Maybe Maraye told her literally nothing, and Rickea is just trying to pry as she does often.

“Uh yeah, we hung out a few nights ago.” I respond, so lucky that Joanne is angling my head in the opposite direction, successfully hiding my growing red face from my teammates. “She’s pretty cool.”

Which isn’t a lie, we did hang out a few nights ago. Only my lips start tingling whenever I think about it. I swear I can taste her still on them all these hours later; like a mix of every single dessert on the planet. So damn sweet. I wonder if she always tasted like that, or if she tasted different elsewhere. 

And yes, Maraye is pretty cool. Pretty funny, pretty smart, pretty talented, pretty. So fucking pretty.

I’m realizing now that three days has been too damn long. To see her damn near everyday, then not at all for a week, then again in which I end up with my tongue down her throat. To not have been within inches of her for 72 fucking hours has me going just a bit crazy.

“I didn’t know y’all were hanging out.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you that.” I fire back too quickly. It makes it seem defensive, and it’s not. I have nothing to hide. 

Well yeah I do, but I think I’m pretty good at hiding it.

“Paige.” Cam says, cutting into the conversation awkwardly. “Please don’t tell me you did something stupid.”

I slouch back in my seat and Brittany, who I swore just magically spawned behind me, slaps my shoulder telling me to sit up. “I didn’t! You guys can’t ever just trust me.” I laugh.

“‘Cause you get caught doing stupid shit!” Rickea explains.

“Caught?”

“Caught? Again?”

“You haven’t seen twitter?”

Those four words always make my heart beat out of my chest. The internet is cool when it comes to me, out of pocket sure, but cool. But on the off occasion that they aren’t, it’s because they are either making shitty posts about what i’m doing on the court, writing think pieces, or minding my business rather than their own. I’m assuming, in context to Maraye, that it’s the latter.

“The fuck happened this time.” I ask with a huff. The first time, I had gotten too comfortable at the club. Which was admittedly my own drunken fault. The second time I was trending because people swore up and down I was making goo-goo eyes at Taylor Rooks. Which I was, she’s absolutely unreal. And now here we are.

Cameron is the one who looks first, and by the look of her face I assume it’s pretty telling. Rickea hands me her phone. I take it, slightly shaking and I don’t know why. 

My eyes are stuck to the screen, and it’s four pictures. I’m not sure who took them, but Maraye has reached A-list status and I forget the Paps are everywhere when it comes to her. 

The first is us leaving the bar in Atlanta. Maraye’s head isn’t in the shot, she’s busy hopping into the backseat of our uber, but mine is. It’s very obviously me, my signature braids down the side of my face rather than in the usual ponytail. My hand is stuck comfortably in the pocket of my zip up while the other holds the door open for her.

The second photo is from when we’re seated at Waffle house. I’m showing all 32 while Maraye talks, and it makes us look like a fucking couple. Her arms rest on the table, head slightly tilted. From the angle, again, you can’t see all her face but her side profile is obvious. Anyone could point it out and recognize her.

But it’s the last two that make us look the most guilty. My arm draped over her shoulder is very incriminating. She held her pink lemonade flavored slushee in her hand, looking up at me. One more swipe and I’m looking at myself paying for those two slushee’s. It doesn’t help that my jacket from earlier that night is now zipped up over her body. 

‘Paige Bueckers and Maraye Carter in atl this weekend 😲’  Reads the tweet. It’s messy, even more when I scroll further and see people putting pieces together. The replies are full of videos from opening night, screenshots of my recent activity in her instagram likes, and of course, of course, someone had to have seen me in my seat at her concert.

It looks bad. I would say worse than it is, but it all doesn’t even scratch the surface. 

“We just friends.” I mumble, I wouldn’t be surprised if my nose grew a centimeter or two. “Y’know how people get.”

I hand Rickea her phone back. She’s the one I should be scared off, Cameron has been done with my relationship issues since I first met her as kids. But Kea? After the talk about leaving Maraye alone, and how I know better, and how I don’t need to get hurt. I’m terrified that I’m about to get caught.

“Has she seen these?”

“Ion know.” She responded. “Probably. But If you two are jus’ friends’, then don’t sweat it. Hollywood moves fast.”

Really fast. 

—

June 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

“You’re literally a fan, shut up.” I joke at the blonde sitting besides me.

She’s messily scarfing down her chipotle bowl as we sit in her car. The windows are tinted nicely and my album shuffles through her speakers, even though she swears up and down that she didn’t add it to her library.

“Am not.”

“Yeah yeah, pinocchio.”

It’s my first time seeing her since the night in my condo, and it’s awkward. Which is weird because Paige and I have never been awkward together. Everything was always smooth, fluid, when it came to her. But now I don’t know what to say.

I blame it on the kiss.

It should’ve never happened. She knows that, I know that. Even then I don’t regret it. 

I’ve never in my life had feelings for a woman before, until now. And it’s so weird because I think I still have feelings for Julian too. It’s not the same thing though. Julian is perfect for me. Good job, family man, tall, handsome, the most gorgeous and perfect curly hair I’ve ever seen. Then there’s Paige, and she just might be perfect for me too. Work oriented, funny, insanely smart even though I tell her she’s not. 

So I sit silent in her passenger seat, not a clue in the world of what I should say to her. She makes me nervous, she makes the bottom of my stomach twist up whenever I look at her and see those beautiful blue eyes. I shouldn’t feel that way, I know that. But damn does she make it hard.

“Maraye?”

“Yeah?”

Paige chuckles, reaching over to wipe a bit of Vinaigrette from my lip. “I said ‘you good?’”

I nod and my head moves slightly away from her reach. “Yeah. Why?” I ask, taking a generous bit from my burrito.

“Because you’re sittin’ there all quiet.” She explains. “I know we kissed and all that but I ain’t think you would stop bein’ cool around me.” She says in an attempt to ease the atmosphere, the obvious tension that bounces off walls.

“It’s not that.” I mumble.

She puts the lid on her bowl, reaching towards the back seat to drop the trash in the brown chipotle bag. When she turns back to face me, I get a great look at her for the first time all night. Her hair is in a messy bun, strands slightly framing her face.

“Then what is it, Raye?” Paige slouches in the seat. “‘Cause don’t get me wrong, I feel some typa way about you but we’re friends first—”

“I wanna kiss you again.” I blurt out. It’s word vomit, like I can’t help but tell her how badly I want her lips on mine and her tongue in my mouth. Hands on my waist, my ass, in my hair. 

She laughs, and I pray to God she’s not laughing at me. “That’s why you can’t talk to me anymore?”

“I wanna kiss you, but I know how wrong that is. I have a boyfriend, and everyone already thinks something is going on here.” My finger gestures between the both of us.

“You saw the pictures?” Paige cuts me off. Her hand slips forward to grab her phone.

“Did you?”

“Kea showed me them yesterday.”

We sit in silence. I’m trying to process her response. 

“Did, uh, did Julian see them?” She asks.

Shit. Julian. It seems like I’m constantly forgetting about him whenever I’m with her. Always. I’m such a fucking asshole. 

“No, I-I didn’t show him. I don’t think I needed to.” I explain through my stutter. He didn’t need to see them. One, because it wasn’t anything serious. The photos made Paige and I look bad, sure, but there was nothing to worry about. It would only make me and him argue, and we do enough of that already.

“Good.” She nods. “He probably shouldn’t anyway.”

“Yeah.”

“Y’know I really wanna kiss you too.” Paige says. I thought that was it. The kiss happened once, and we were back to being friends. Being normal.

“Paige—”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

“P, quit it.”

“I keep thinking about how you taste. Like all day. And I shouldn’t, I know that, but you make it fuckin’ impossible.” The blonde sighs. Her eyes fall shut like it’s painful, painful to not kiss me. 

I shake my head, hoping that it’s enough for her to stop talking about it. “Paige, you and I are friends. That’s it. I have a boyfriend, and you’re not a home wrecker. We aren’t doing that again.”

She goes quiet. Then her eyes open and she turns back towards the wheel. It’s 10:30 at night and she has a game in the morning. Paige’s hips raise slightly to fix her sweatpants. A pulse races through me when it happens. 

“You understand? We can’t.” I ask, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah. Yeah, just friends.” Paige says.

I want to believe her. I really do. But the look in her eyes tells me I shouldn’t. Those blue orbs I know so well are suddenly a deep color, pupils wide. She slightly bites the corner of her lip, staring at me like I could run away.

“Stop looking at me like that.” I push at her shoulder, a chuckle escaping my lips. “I’m serious. No kissing, no flirting. I’m not a cheater, P. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“I know, I know. I won’t.” She responds. “But if it happens?” Paige leans into me again. Her hand flicking a curl away from my face before playing with it. She stares at me with intensity.

“It won’t.”

“If it does, I’m not apologizing for it.”

And then she pulls back, sitting in her seat and pulling her seatbelt over her body. She turns the engine on without even a second thought.

I sit there speechless, burrito growing cold between my hands. And I know, without a doubt, no matter how badly I want to hold out and follow through on my promise.

Paige is dangerous, and I don’t think I have it in me.

She’s gonna win. Again.