#I hate them (I love them more than anything ever) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

goldfades · 3 days ago

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never felt so alone───paige bueckers

free palestine carrd 🇵🇸 decolonize palestine site 🇵🇸 how you can help palestine | FREE PALESTINE!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 6.7k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | requested by @wanderlusturous -> Paige x reader too 🤍 like maybe some teammate fics | i hope you enjoy, babe!

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | angst to fluff, ACL injury stuff, paige being a cutie patootie, not sure if theres anything else but it has a happy ending!

The first time you let yourself cry about it—really cry, not just a few silent tears swallowed in the dark—you were alone in the training room, knee wrapped in ice, watching your team warm up on the screen mounted in the corner. The sound was off, but you didn’t need it. You could hear it anyway. The sneaker squeaks, the ball hitting the floor, the echoes of laughter and easy, thoughtless movement. It was the sound of a world that had moved on without you.

And you hated that it hurt this much.

It had been almost a year. A year since your body betrayed you in front of thousands. Since your whole life had changed in a single wrong step, your knee buckling beneath you in a way it was never supposed to. A year since you lay on the court, gripping your leg with hands that shook, blinking up at the overhead lights while everything around you blurred into background noise. A year since you had to sit in that tiny, sterile room with a doctor who didn’t bother to soften the news: ACL tear. Surgery. Recovery. Long, slow, brutal.

And just like that, everything you had been working toward, everything you had been so sure was yours—the draft, the number one pick, the future you had mapped out for yourself since you first picked up a ball—was gone.

You tried to be okay about it. You told everyone you were okay about it.

But you weren’t.

Because now, every time you walked into that gym, it wasn’t the same. You weren’t the same. You felt it in the way people looked at you, in the way their eyes darted to your knee before meeting your face. In the way their encouragement sounded more like pity, their reassurances empty, weightless.

“You’ll be back,” they’d say, and maybe they believed it. Maybe they didn’t. It didn’t matter. Because you knew the truth. You weren’t the same player. You weren’t the same person.

And you had never felt more alone.

But if there was anyone who understood, it was Paige.

She never said much about it, but she didn’t have to. She had been through it too. She knew what it was like to go from untouchable to sidelined, to watch the game you loved move forward without you, to wonder if you’d ever be the same again.

And lately, she was the only person you could stand to be around.

You had been staring at your phone for so long that the screen dimmed, and for a moment, you just let it. You let the notification blur into the background, just another soft glow in the otherwise empty space of your mind. But the words were already burned into your vision. You could still see them, could still hear them.

ESPN: The new projected #1 pick in the 2025 WNBA Draft has been updated.

You hadn’t even opened the article. You didn’t need to. The bets had been completely off for you for a while now. They had kept your name there at first, had held onto you like a favorite whose odds just kept slipping, but eventually, reality set in. You were old news now. Another cautionary tale. A talent with a question mark hanging over her head.

And now, someone else was in your place.

You stared at the screen, willing yourself to feel something other than this heavy, creeping numbness. You should be angry. Should be heartbroken. Should be something.

But you just felt… gone. Like the piece of you that used to care had been hollowed out somewhere along the way.

A year ago, you had been untouchable. A sure thing. The future. The kind of player people built franchises around. And now? Now, there was a chance there was no draft for you at all.

Because the truth was, you weren’t healing fast enough. You had tried. God, you had tried. You had pushed your body past the point of exhaustion, past the pain, past the doubt. You had done every stretch, every exercise, followed every rehab plan like it was a religion. But the clock was still ticking. And if you didn’t get back soon, if you didn’t prove that you were still the player they had once fought over, then what?

Then no one would draft you.

Then it would all be over before it even began.

Your fingers tightened around your phone, stomach twisting into knots, the weight of it pressing against your chest, against your throat, until you felt like you might choke on it.

And then, suddenly, it was gone.

You blinked, hands grasping at empty air as Paige plucked the phone from your grip, her movements casual but firm, like she had seen this moment coming before you even did.

She didn’t say anything at first. Just held your phone in one hand, looking down at you with those sharp, knowing eyes, the ones that had always seen through you too easily.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered, shifting on the bench, trying to sound bored, like your world hadn’t just cracked open a little more. Like you weren’t barely holding it together.

Paige didn’t buy it. Of course she didn’t.

She turned your phone over in her palm, thoughtful, before slipping it into the pocket of her hoodie. “You don’t need to look at that.”

The damage was already done.

Your chest still felt tight, your stomach still sick, your mind still racing down the same dark paths it had been on since the moment you read that notification. Paige could take your phone away, but she couldn’t erase the words from your head, couldn’t make you unsee them, couldn’t stop the way your pulse was pounding in your ears, reminding you over and over of what you had lost.

Paige must have seen something shift in your face because she exhaled, long and slow, before sitting down beside you.

“You’re still in this,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, edged with something softer.

You laughed, but it didn’t sound like you. “Am I?”

She didn’t answer right away, just studied you like she was trying to figure out how far gone you really were, how much of you was still left.

And for the first time in a long time, you weren’t sure of the answer.

The locker room was dead silent. Everyone could feel the tension thick in the air, suffocating, pressing against their chests. No one wanted to look at you. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire.

You sat there, jaw clenched so tight it ached, hands curled into fists on your knees, staring at the floor like if you looked anywhere else, the whole thing would snap you in half.

"You think this is easy for me?" Geno’s voice cut through the silence, sharp, impatient. "You think I enjoy calling you out like this? I don’t. But this attitude you’ve had? It’s not helping you. It’s not helping the team."

You felt your throat tighten, but you swallowed it down. You always swallowed it down.

Geno sighed, dragging a hand over his face before leveling you with that look, the one you’d seen him give so many players before. The one that usually meant tough love, a push in the right direction. The one that used to light a fire in you.

"You know what I’ve told you before," he continued, voice calmer now but still firm. "Half the battle is in the mentality. You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can prove to everyone that you’re still the player they think you are. It’s your choice."

That was it.

That was the moment you broke.

The moment you couldn’t keep it all bottled up anymore.

Because it wasn’t just about your mentality. It wasn’t just about your attitude. It was about how everything had been taken from you in one second, how you had clawed your way through recovery, how you had done everything right and it still wasn’t enough. It was about the way people talked about you now, like you were a what-could-have-been instead of a what-still-could-be. It was about the fact that you didn’t even know who you were anymore without basketball, and no one seemed to understand that.

Your voice shook when you spoke, but the words spilled out anyway, raw and desperate and unfiltered.

"Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t replay that moment every single night, over and over again in my head, trying to figure out how I got here?" You laughed, but it wasn’t funny. It was bitter, broken. "Do you think I don’t want to be out there? That I don’t want to be the player I was?"

Your eyes were burning now, but you refused to let the tears fall here. Not in front of him. Not in front of them.

"I’ve done everything I was supposed to do," you whispered, voice hoarse, barely holding it together. "And it’s still not enough."

No one said anything.

Not Geno. Not the team.

No one.

So you left.

You grabbed your stuff, shoved past the stunned silence, and walked out before anyone could stop you.

Paige was the only one who followed.

She didn’t call your name. Didn’t try to talk to you. Didn’t try to tell you it was okay, because she knew it wasn’t.

She caught up to you outside the gym, her footsteps quiet but steady, and the moment you turned to look at her, everything you had been holding in—the anger, the grief, the exhaustion—crashed into you all at once.

And without a single word, Paige wrapped her arms around you.

She hugged you tight, like she was holding you together, like she could feel the way you were unraveling, thread by thread. And for the first time in a long time, you let yourself cry. Really cry. Not just a few tears wiped away before anyone could see, but the kind of tears that shook your whole body, that made it hard to breathe, that carried everything you had been too afraid to say.

Paige didn’t let go.

Not when your shoulders trembled. Not when you gripped the back of her hoodie like a lifeline. Not when your sobs turned into ragged, uneven breaths.

And that night, she didn’t leave your side.

She didn’t say much. She didn’t need to.

She just stayed, close enough that you could hear her breathing, close enough that, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel completely alone.

Paige had always seen you as untouchable. As unstoppable.

Seeing you like this? Broken, vulnerable, hurting in a way that even she couldn’t fix?

That broke her, too.

You had always been the one. The kind of player people whispered about before you even stepped onto the court. The kind of talent that didn’t just demand attention but held it, bent the game around you like gravity. Paige had seen it from the first time she played with you, the way you moved, the way you thought the game three steps ahead of everyone else. You were special. And everybody knew it.

That was why, when it happened, it felt like the world had cracked open.

She remembered it too clearly. The sharp sound of your body hitting the floor, the way you clutched your knee, the way your face twisted in pain. She had never seen you like that before. Never seen you down and not bounce right back up.

At first, she thought—hoped—it was just something minor. A bad landing. A scare. You’d get up, you’d shake it off, and everything would go back to normal.

But you didn’t get up.

And when they helped you off the court, when she saw the way you wouldn’t even try to put weight on it, her stomach dropped.

Because she knew.

She knew before the MRI, before the press release, before the hushed conversations about recovery timelines and worst-case scenarios. She knew the second she saw your face.

And that night, when she found you sitting in the locker room long after everyone else had left, staring down at your knee like it wasn’t even yours anymore, she realized something else.

You weren’t just scared of being hurt. You were scared of what came next.

Paige understood that fear. She had lived it. She knew what it was like to sit on the sidelines and feel like the game was leaving you behind, like the thing that made you you was slipping further and further out of reach. She knew how isolating it was, how no amount of support or encouragement could touch the parts of you that ached the most.

But this was you. And in her mind, you had never been touchable, had never been stoppable. The idea of you being anything less than that—it wasn’t something she could wrap her head around.

So she had told herself, You’ll come back. You have to come back.

But months passed, and she watched the way you changed. The way your fire dimmed. The way you started retreating into yourself, isolating, pulling away from the team, from her.

The way your name slowly started disappearing from draft talks.

The way you looked at yourself like you weren’t sure you belonged here anymore.

And now, sitting beside you, holding you as you finally let yourself fall apart, she felt helpless.

Because this wasn’t a game she could win for you.

She could fight for you on the court. She could hit big shots, make big plays, try to keep the team moving forward. But she couldn’t fix this. She couldn’t make your knee heal faster. She couldn’t take away the doubt, the fear, the loss of everything you thought was certain.

She hated that.

She hated that all she could do was hold you, that all she could offer was her presence, her warmth, the steady rhythm of her breathing against yours.

But if this was all she could do, she would do it.

Because you weren’t alone.

And as long as she was here, as long as she had anything to give, she would make sure you never felt like you were.

It started with an alarm.

A shrill, relentless alarm at 5:30 AM. The kind that made you want to throw your phone across the room.

At first, you thought you had set it by accident. But then you heard the knocking.

No. Not knocking. Pounding.

You groaned, pulling your blanket over your head, willing whoever it was to just disappear.

No such luck.

"Get up," Paige’s voice rang through the door, clear, firm, unmovable.

You shut your eyes tighter. "Go away."

The door opened.

You peeked out from under the blanket just in time to see Paige standing in your doorway, arms crossed, dressed in workout gear like she had been up for hours.

You glared. "Do you not believe in knocking?"

"I knocked," she said, unimpressed. "Then you ignored me. Now get up."

You scoffed, rolling onto your side. "Not happening."

You should have known she wouldn’t just accept that.

Paige walked over, grabbed the edge of your blanket, and ripped it off you in one swift motion. Cold air hit your skin, and you practically yelped, curling into yourself.

"Jesus, Bueckers—"

"You can cuss me out later," she said. "Right now, we’re going to the gym."

You stared at her like she had lost her mind. "Paige, it’s five in the morning."

"Yeah, and you’ve got work to do," she shot back, unfazed. "Season starts in a few months. You wanna be ready or not?"

You hesitated.

Of course you wanted to be ready. Of course you wanted to get back to where you were before, to prove that you weren’t just some washed-up has-been before you even got the chance to be a someone.

But that want—that need—was buried under months of frustration, self-doubt, exhaustion. You had pushed yourself so hard for so long, and it still felt like you were running in place.

And now, here she was, asking you to choose again.

Paige must have seen the hesitation in your face, because her expression softened. She sat down on the edge of your bed, nudging your knee lightly.

"I know you’re tired," she said, quieter now, more serious. "I know this hasn’t been fair. But you’re too good to let this stop you. You know that."

You swallowed, looking away.

She sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on her knees. "You’re not doing this alone," she continued. "I’m gonna be here every step of the way. If you have to push yourself, then I’ll push you. If you fall, I’ll catch you. But I’m not letting you give up on this. I won’t."

Something in your chest tightened.

Because she meant it. You could hear it in her voice, in the unwavering steadiness of it.

Paige had always believed in you. Even when you stopped believing in yourself.

And maybe—just maybe—that was enough to get you out of bed.

You exhaled through your nose, rubbing a hand down your face before finally, finally sitting up.

"Fine," you muttered. "But if I pass out halfway through, it’s on you."

Paige grinned, already victorious. "You’ll live."

And with that, she tossed you your sneakers, stood up, and waited—because she already knew you were going to follow.

The next couple of months were hell.

But not the kind of hell you had been drowning in for the past year. Not the slow-burning, isolating, empty kind of hell where every day bled into the next, where the weight of your own expectations crushed you before you even got out of bed.

No, this was different.

This was the kind of hell that left your muscles aching in the best way, your lungs burning as you pushed through another sprint, your hands gripping your knees as you bent over, gasping for breath, feeling alive again. The kind of hell that reminded you why you had ever loved this game in the first place.

And it was all because of Paige.

She didn’t go easy on you. If anything, she was worse than the trainers. She forced you out of bed before sunrise, dragged you through drills that made you want to collapse, and refused to let you quit.

"You’re too slow," she’d say, breathless, as you tried to keep up with her full-speed cuts. "Use your damn left hand," she’d scold when your layup was just a little too stiff. "Again." That was her favorite. No matter how many times you told her you were done, she’d look at you with that infuriating smirk and make you do it again.

And somehow… somehow, you needed it.

For the first time in forever, you felt like a player again. Like you were clawing your way back to the person you used to be. And with every day that passed, with every extra rep, every bead of sweat rolling down your spine, every time you beat Paige in a shooting drill and got to see the way she rolled her eyes, shoving your shoulder with a muttered, "Whatever, lucky shot,"—you started to believe, just a little, that maybe you still had a chance.

It was exhausting. It was painful. It was the hardest thing you had ever done.

And you had never felt more alive.

But then there was the other problem.

Because somewhere along the way, between the early morning workouts and the late-night film sessions, between the inside jokes and the way she always, always knew exactly what to say to get you out of your own head—something shifted.

You caught yourself watching her too long. Not just as a player, not just as the Paige Bueckers that the world knew. But as her. As the person who had seen you at your absolute lowest and refused to let you stay there.

As the person who had held you when you broke. Who had stayed up with you on the nights where the doubt crept in too deep, the one who knew, before you even said a word, exactly what you needed.

And it scared you.

Because Paige Bueckers wasn’t just some random person. She was your teammate. Your best friend. The person who had dedicated months of her life to making sure you didn’t give up on yourself.

And you couldn’t risk losing that.

So you ignored it. You ignored the way your heart picked up when she brushed against you. The way her hand lingered on your back whenever she guided you off the court. The way she looked at you sometimes, like she was trying to figure something out.

You ignored everything.

Because preseason was coming. And you weren’t where you needed to be yet.

You had made progress—real progress. You were moving better, sharper, stronger than you had in months. But you weren’t there yet. Not fully healed. Not fully you.

But baby steps, right?

You weren’t giving up. Not anymore. And maybe—just maybe—you weren’t as alone as you thought you were.

The gym was nearly empty when Paige found you.

Late night, lights dimmed, the faint echo of bouncing balls from the other side of the facility. You had just finished your last set of shooting drills, your knee wrapped tight, sweat dripping down your back, exhaustion clinging to your limbs. It was another long day of almost being back, almost being who you were before.

But almost wasn’t good enough. Not yet.

You heard the door open but didn’t look up. You knew who it was. Paige had a presence, an energy that filled the space before she even said anything.

"You really gotta stop sneaking in extra workouts," she called, footsteps slow as she crossed the court. "What if I tell Geno? He’ll make you sit out of practice for real this time."

You rolled your eyes, bending down to grab your water bottle. "You won’t tell Geno, because that would make you a snitch."

She scoffed. "I think it makes me a responsible teammate."

"You dragged me out of bed at five in the morning for conditioning all summer, but now you wanna be responsible?" You shot her a look. "Little hypocritical, don’t you think?"

Paige grinned, coming to a stop a few feet from you, spinning a ball lazily in her hands. "That’s different."

"How?"

"Because I was supervising. You out here by yourself?" She made a tsk sound, shaking her head dramatically. "Reckless. Careless. Dangerous, even."

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head. "Whatever."

Paige took a step closer, that knowing look in her eyes. "You know you don’t have to do this alone, right?"

Your grip tightened around your water bottle. It wasn’t the first time she had said something like that. And every time, it hit the same.

"I know," you muttered.

She studied you for a second, then nodded, spinning the ball again before flipping it toward you. You caught it out of reflex.

"One-on-one," she said casually, stretching her arms overhead. "First to five."

You narrowed your eyes. "You just had practice."

"So?" She smirked. "I still won’t go easy on you."

That shouldn’t have made your stomach flip, but it did.

You licked your lips, tossing the ball between your hands. "I won’t go easy on you, Bueckers."

Her smirk deepened. "Good."

And just like that, the banter faded into the familiar rhythm of competition—the kind where words weren’t needed, where the only thing that mattered was movement, instincts, the game itself.

But even as you tried to focus, as you tried to lock in, you couldn’t ignore the way Paige’s eyes lingered a little too long. The way her hands brushed against your waist when she reached for a steal. The way she grinned every time you scored, even though she hated losing.

The way the tension between you two had started feeling different.

And you weren’t sure what scared you more—losing the game, or what would happen if you stopped ignoring it.

The sun was starting to set as you and Paige walked back from physical therapy, the sky streaked with warm oranges and purples, the air crisp against your skin. Your knee was sore, but in the way it always was after PT—stiff, a little swollen, but manageable. You were used to it by now. What you weren’t used to was the fact that you didn’t hate these sessions anymore.

Not since Paige started showing up.

At first, you thought she was just being nice—checking in on you, keeping you accountable, making sure you weren’t wallowing in self-pity (even though you totally had been). But then, she started coming every time. She sat in the waiting room during your sessions, tapping her foot impatiently like she was the one getting worked on. She cracked dumb jokes when you winced through exercises, flipped through old magazines and read the worst horoscopes out loud just to make you laugh.

She was like your own personal emotional support dog. If emotional support dogs talked a lot.

And the thing was? She made you feel less bad about all of it.

The injury, the rehab, the endless cycle of progress and setbacks. It didn’t feel so heavy when she was there.

Now, as you walked side by side, your duffel slung over one shoulder, Paige stuffed her hands into the front pocket of her hoodie, gaze flicking toward you before settling on the sidewalk.

"You know, I’ve been here before," she said after a beat, her voice quieter than usual.

You frowned. "What do you mean?"

"This place," she nodded back toward the therapy clinic, her expression unreadable. "I came here after I tore my ACL. Same time, same days. Same routine."

You blinked. You knew about her injury, obviously—everyone did. But she had never really talked about it. Not like this.

"That was before I got here," she continued, exhaling, her breath visible in the cool evening air. "Before I really got back. And it sucked. So bad." She huffed a laugh, but it wasn’t really funny. "I don’t think people get how… alone it makes you feel. Everyone’s moving forward, the season keeps going, and you’re just stuck in the same place. Trying to convince yourself you’re still the player you were before."

Your stomach twisted at how familiar that sounded.

Paige kicked a loose pebble down the sidewalk. "I didn’t really have anyone who—like, I mean, I had people who cared, but no one who really got it. Not like this. I wanted someone to be there for me the way I’ve been here for you."

You stopped walking. Paige took a few more steps before realizing and turned to face you, her brows furrowing slightly.

"You never told me that," you said, voice softer than you meant it to be.

She shrugged, a little sheepish. "It wasn’t something I talked about much. Didn’t think it mattered."

"It does matter," you insisted.

Paige held your gaze for a second, something flickering behind her eyes. Then, she took a step closer.

"You know what else matters?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "The fact that you were the only person who actually pushed me to get my ass back on the court."

You blinked. "What?"

She smiled, but it wasn’t teasing. It was real.

"You don’t remember?" She shook her head, laughing to herself. "I do. You were a freshman, and you wouldn’t shut up about how I needed to get back out there. You kept saying I was too good to waste it, that I had to stop feeling sorry for myself. It pissed me off so bad."

Your eyes widened. You… vaguely remembered that. You remembered standing outside the locker room, Paige still moving stiffly, not fully cleared yet, and you had said something—something blunt, something stubborn, something about how she was going to regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t push through.

"You were annoying as hell," Paige added, smirking. "But you were right. I don’t know if I ever told you that."

You were still trying to wrap your head around it. You had no idea you’d made that much of an impact on her. That you had been the one to push her the way she had been pushing you now.

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

Then, finally, you huffed, shaking your head. "So… what you’re saying is, this is revenge?"

Paige snorted. "One hundred percent."

You both laughed, but beneath it, something else settled in your chest. Something warm.

She had been there before. She understood.

And maybe, just maybe, that meant you could come out on the other side of this too.

The doctor barely got the words out before Paige exploded.

"Let’s goooo!" she shouted, jumping up so fast her chair screeched against the floor. She clapped you on the back—hard, like she forgot her own strength—before pulling you into the tightest hug you’d ever been in.

You were still processing it. Cleared. Cleared. After nearly a year of waiting, of doubting, of pushing yourself until you couldn’t breathe, you were finally back.

You let out a breathless laugh, gripping the back of Paige’s hoodie as she squeezed you tighter. "You realize I’m the one who just got cleared, right? Why are you more excited than me?"

Paige pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes bright, that signature smirk tugging at her lips. "Because I knew this would happen," she said like it was obvious. "I told you. You’re too good not to come back. It was only a matter of time."

You swallowed hard, suddenly feeling warmer than you should’ve in an air-conditioned office. There was something about the way she was looking at you—like she had been waiting for this moment just as much as you had. Maybe more.

The doctor cleared his throat, clearly trying not to laugh. "Are you two done celebrating in my office, or do I need to step out and give you a minute?"

You and Paige both whipped around like guilty kids, muttering quick apologies, but the grin never left her face.

And it didn’t leave the rest of the day, either.

She refused to let you go home without celebrating. Took you straight to your favorite restaurant, ordered way too much food, and every time you even thought about checking your phone, she smacked your hand away.

"Tonight is not for film. Or texts. Or stressing," she said between bites of fries. "It’s for you. And me. And this delicious meal I just paid for."

"You literally stole my card to pay," you pointed out.

"Yeah, but I swiped it," she said smugly, sipping her drink. "Which means I paid. Which means you should be grateful."

You rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped, and you weren’t entirely sure it was from the food.

Because here she was again. Paige Bueckers, making you feel like the most important person in the room.

And that feeling hadn’t gone away.

The first practice back, you were expecting a normal warm welcome. Some pats on the back, maybe a few sarcastic finallys thrown your way.

What you were not expecting was to walk into the locker room and see balloons tied to your chair, a giant cake sitting on the bench, and the entire team yelling, "She’s baaaaaaack!" the second you stepped inside.

You stopped in your tracks, wide-eyed. "What the—"

"Surprise!" Paige called, stepping forward with an exaggerated bow. "Courtesy of your personal hype woman."

You looked at her, then at the cake—white frosting, piped-on basketballs, and the words WELCOME BACK, SUPERSTAR in bright blue icing. You could tell she definitely decorated it herself, because one of the basketballs was slightly misshapen, and the lettering was just a little off-center.

Your chest felt tight, but in a good way. A way you didn’t quite know how to explain.

"You did this?" you asked, already knowing the answer.

Paige shrugged, but her grin was unmistakable. "Figured you deserved it."

The warmth in your chest spread.

"Alright, get over here and eat before I do it for you," she added, shoving a plastic fork into your hand.

The rest of the team dove into the cake, laughter filling the room as people threw icing at each other, teasing you about how they were gonna light your ass up in scrimmages.

And through it all, you kept sneaking glances at Paige.

Because this was the part that was messing with your head.

The way she always knew what you needed before you even said it. The way she was so damn proud of you, like this wasn’t just your win, but hers too. The way she looked at you sometimes, like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

And suddenly, you couldn’t keep pretending that your feelings for her were just friendly.

Because they weren’t. Not even close.

The second the buzzer sounded, the roar of the crowd barely had time to register before Paige was on you.

You didn’t even have time to celebrate properly, barely had time to process the fact that you had just played in your first official game back, before she grabbed you—hands firm on your waist, tugging you straight into her.

"You killed it," she practically breathed against your ear, voice thick with something deeper than excitement, something that sent a full-body chill down your spine.

You barely had time to respond before she pulled you closer, her arms locking around your back, holding you like she was afraid to let go. Her heart was pounding against yours, fast and erratic, and you swore she was holding on for longer than a normal post-game hug.

Not that you were complaining.

Your hands hesitated for only a second before finding their way to her back, gripping onto the fabric of her jersey, still warm from the game.

"You act like we just won a championship," you teased, but your voice came out softer than you meant it to.

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands sliding down to rest on your hips. "We won your first game back," she corrected, like that was the real victory.

And the way she was looking at you—the way her eyes were scanning your face like she wanted to memorize it, the way her fingers were still gripping onto you like she wasn’t ready to let go—made your stomach flip so hard you almost felt dizzy.

It was so obvious.

So obvious in the way she refused to move more than a step away from you during the entire post-game celebration, always lingering close, her hand brushing against yours, her shoulder bumping into you.

So obvious in the way she reached for you again when the cameras swarmed, her arm slung around your shoulders like it belonged there.

So obvious in the way she beamed every time she looked at you, like she was the proudest person in the damn world.

And it should have been overwhelming, should have felt like too much.

But it didn’t.

Because if you were being honest, you didn’t want her to let go either.

The ice cream shop was packed, buzzing with late-night energy—fans still wearing jerseys, kids on sugar highs, groups of students laughing loudly in the corner. The air smelled like waffle cones and melted chocolate, and the whole team was crammed into two booths, talking over each other, hyped from the win.

And through all of it, Paige wouldn’t leave your side.

She had slid into the seat next to you the second you got there, pressing close enough that her knee knocked against yours under the table. And she stayed there, so damn close, even when there was plenty of room to move.

Not that you minded.

She was warm, practically radiating heat against your side. Every time she laughed—really laughed, head tilting back just slightly—her shoulder bumped into yours. Every time she reached for her cup, her fingers brushed against your arm like she forgot how much space she was taking up.

Or maybe she just didn’t care.

"Alright, we’re making a bathroom run," one of your teammates announced, and the rest of them quickly followed, leaving you and Paige alone at the table.

The shop was still loud around you, but suddenly, everything between you two felt quiet.

You tapped your spoon absently against your cup, not looking at her. "You planning on sticking to me like glue all night?"

Paige scoffed, leaning back like she was just now realizing how close she was. But she didn’t move. "Psh. Please. If anything, you’ve been following me."

You raised a brow, finally meeting her gaze. "Oh yeah? That what you’re telling yourself?"

She smirked, like she had been waiting for this exact opening. "Well, you do like me, so."

Your spoon paused midair.

Your brain short-circuited.

She had said it so casually, like it wasn’t the biggest bomb she could have possibly dropped. Like it wasn’t the exact thing you had been trying not to admit to yourself for months.

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Blinked. "I—what?"

Paige just grinned, stirring her ice cream like she didn’t just say that. "Relax, it’s not that deep," she teased, but there was something lighter in her voice, something testing.

You swallowed. "So you’re just out here saying stuff?"

She shrugged, still grinning, but you could see the shift—the way she kept glancing at you, like she was trying to gauge your reaction. Like she was actually nervous.

You inhaled slowly. "Paige."

She finally stopped stirring her ice cream, finally let the teasing drop just a little.

"Okay," she said, quieter now, tapping her spoon against her cup. "Maybe it is a little deep."

The air between you shifted.

You could still hear the noise of the shop, the hum of conversations, the occasional burst of laughter from across the room. But none of it mattered. Not when Paige was sitting this close, looking at you like that.

Like she had been waiting.

Like she wasn’t scared of saying it anymore.

Your chest felt tight. "Oh."

Paige let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. "Oh? That’s all you got?"

You swallowed again, your heart beating way too fast. "I mean—what do you want me to say?"

"I don’t know," she murmured, voice almost playful but not quite. "Maybe that you like me too?"

Your mouth felt dry.

Because you did.

Of course you did.

It had been obvious for so long, in the way your heart jumped every time she touched you, in the way you gravitated toward her like it was second nature. In the way she made the worst year of your life bearable just by being there.

So, really, what was stopping you?

You let out a breath, then shook your head, smirking just slightly. "You are so full of yourself."

Paige rolled her eyes but leaned in just a little closer. "Am I wrong, though?"

You huffed, pressing your lips together—trying to hold onto the last shred of self-control you had, but it was so hard when she was right there, when she was looking at you like she already knew she was right.

And then—

She reached out, fingers curling around your wrist, lightly, like she was giving you an out.

She didn’t need to.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

And before you could second-guess it, before you could talk yourself out of it—

You kissed her.

It was soft at first, tentative, like neither of you could believe it was actually happening. Like months of unspoken tension had suddenly snapped all at once.

But then Paige exhaled against your lips, like she had been holding it in for so long, and you felt her smile into the kiss before she kissed you again, deeper this time, her fingers tightening around your wrist, pulling you in.

You felt weightless.

Like everything—the injury, the doubt, the fear—had led to this.

And, for the first time in forever, you weren’t thinking about the past.

You weren’t thinking about the future.

You were just here, with Paige, and nothing had ever felt more right.

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blairxbear · 3 days ago

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When they realise they are in love with you.

MHA Class 1A Head cannons

Izuku Midoriya

• He doesn’t realize it at first—it hits him like a train when someone else points it out.

• You’re patching up his wounds after a battle, scolding him like usual, and he just stares at you.

• “They care about me so much… I don’t ever want to lose them.”

• That’s when it clicks—his face turns beet red, and he literally short-circuits trying to process it.

• He starts writing about you in his notebooks, not just as a hero, but as his hero.

• Tries to confess a dozen times but ends up stammering and running away.

Katsuki Bakugo

• He freaking hates it when he realizes he’s in love.

• He notices he gets jealous when you talk to others too casually.

• He starts training even harder because he wants to be stronger for you.

• The moment it fully hits him? You defend him from someone bad-mouthing him, and his chest tightens.

• “Shit… I don’t just like them. I love them.”

• He won’t say it out loud but becomes insanely protective overnight.

• If someone flirts with you, he glares daggers and pulls you closer.

• His confession is awkward but genuine—probably blurts out “I love you, okay?! Now deal with it!”

Shoto Todoroki

• Love isn’t something he understands right away—it’s foreign but comforting.

• He notices he trusts you more than anyone else and actually wants to be around you.

• One day, you brush a strand of hair from his face, and his heart skips a beat.

• “Why does my chest feel warm? Is this…?”

• He spends weeks thinking about what this feeling means.

• His father’s influence made him fear attachment, but with you, he feels safe.

• He realizes he loves you when he catches himself smiling for no reason just because you exist.

• When he confesses, it’s simple but deeply meaningful—“I think I love you. No, I know I do.”

Eijiro Kirishima

• He’s the type to fall fast and hard, but he won’t admit it until it hits him like an explosion.

• You do something small but meaningful, like fixing his hair or remembering his favorite drink, and suddenly, he’s melting.

• His brain just goes: “Oh no. Oh NO. I LOVE THEM.”

• The moment he realizes it, he becomes the most obvious person alive—grinning like an idiot, blushing when you compliment him.

• Denki figures it out first and teases him relentlessly.

• He confesses spontaneously—probably during training or when you’re just hanging out.

• “Hey… I, uh, love you. Like, really love you.”

Denki Kaminari

• He thinks he’s just crushing on you, but one night, you laugh at one of his dumb jokes, and his heart flips.

• “Wait… why do I want to make them laugh forever?”

• He starts noticing the little things—the way your eyes sparkle, the way you say his name.

• Suddenly, every love song reminds him of you.

• He realizes he loves you when you comfort him after a bad day, holding his hand without judgment.

• He panics—freaks out and tells Sero before he even tells you.

• Ends up blurting it out without thinking—probably during a sparring session.

• “Oh, shit—did I just say that out loud? …Well, I meant it.”

Henta Sero

• Realizes it slowly but surely—love creeps up on him like his tape until it’s wrapped around his heart.

• It happens during a casual hangout, maybe when you’re laughing at one of his dumb jokes.

• “Damn, I’d do anything to hear that laugh every day.”

• His friends notice before he does because he starts bringing you up in every conversation.

• “Oh, Y/N likes that movie too!” “Y/N would totally win this game.”

• When he realizes, he’s cool about it but lowkey dying inside.

• He confesses casually but sweetly, probably while sharing a snack.

• “So… I’m kinda in love with you. Thought you should know.”

Fumikage Tokoyami

• He doesn’t see it as love at first—he calls it “a deep admiration”.

• Dark Shadow calls him out first: “Dude, you’re OBSESSED.”

• He realizes he loves you when he misses you more than he should.

• The thought of you being hurt makes his blood run cold—he becomes fiercely protective.

• He confesses in a poetic and dramatic way—probably quotes some gothic literature.

• “My heart, once shrouded in darkness, now finds solace in you.”

• He’s nervous about whether you’ll accept him, but when you do, he’s deeply devoted.

Tenya Iida

• Love is logical to him, so he doesn’t understand why his brain short-circuits around you.

• Realizes it when he starts worrying about you more than necessary.

• “Are they drinking enough water? Did they eat today? Should I check on them?”

• The real moment? You tell him to relax, placing a hand on his arm, and suddenly, his heart is racing.

• He denies it at first—tries to rationalize it.

• But one day, you cheer for him in a match, and it clicks—he wants you by his side forever.

• His confession is formal but flustered—“I have come to the realization that I love you. I hope you will accept my feelings.”

Mashirao Ojiro

• He falls first but doesn’t say anything—he’s the quiet type about his feelings.

• The moment he realizes? Sparring with you, when you pin him down and smirk.

• “Oh, I’m completely in love with them.”

• He acts normal but becomes a little more protective, a little more soft-spoken around you.

• His tail wags when you’re near, and he hates that everyone notices.

• He confesses simply but sincerely—probably under the stars or after training.

• “I love you. I don’t need anything back, I just wanted you to know.”

Mezo Shoji

• Realizes it when he starts looking forward to your voice every day.

• He’s always been reserved, but you make him feel safe.

• The moment he knows? You tell him he’s beautiful, and he nearly chokes on air.

• “They… they actually see me.”

• His confession is quiet but meaningful—probably late at night when you’re alone.

• “You’re the only one who makes me feel like this. I think… no, I know I love you.”

Rikido Sato

• He realizes he’s in love while baking—he catches himself making extra portions just for you, even when you’re not around.

• One day, you sneak into the kitchen to help, and he watches you struggle with frosting a cupcake.

• Instead of laughing, he just smiles fondly and thinks, “I want to do this with them forever.”

• The moment it really clicks is when you try his baking and get so excited, giving him the biggest grin.

• His heart pounds, and suddenly, the sweetest thing in the room isn’t the cake.

• Becomes super flustered around you after that, fumbling with ingredients and spacing out.

• His confession is adorably shy, probably over a homemade dessert.

• “I, uh… I made this for you. And also, I think I love you.”

Koji Koda

• He falls slowly but deeply, and it takes a while for him to understand his feelings.

• He realizes it when he notices the way animals react to you—his rabbits love you, birds always fly near, and even skittish animals trust you.

• One day, you rescue a tiny injured bird, and as he watches you care for it so gently, his heart swells.

• “They’re so kind… I never want to leave their side.”

• The next time you smile at him, his whole face turns red, and he gets so nervous he forgets how to talk.

• Starts getting extra shy around you, but his actions speak louder—always carrying things for you, making sure you’re safe, sitting near you quietly.

• His confession is soft but heartfelt, maybe while watching the sunset with you.

• “I… I think I love you. You make my world so much brighter.”

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bapeach · 1 day ago

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Valentine's Day

Anyone else suck at writing summaries for their stories? Anyways, happy belated Valentine's! I hadn't planned on writing a Valentine's related story, but here we are. Hope you all enjoy! Constructive criticism is always welcome :D Find my masterlist here :)

Pairing(s): Paige Bueckers x female!reader Word count: 4.8k+ Warnings: a bit clinché, swearing, long-distance Summary: Valentine's Day isn't so bad when you get to call with your long-distance best friend, except things don't really go the way you planned. You're not mad about it, though. ------------

Valentine's Day. A day loved by many and hated by even more.

You belonged in the latter category. Why did couples need an extra day to celebrate their relationship? Why would you require an extra day to be nice to your partner when you should do that any other day as well? The only thing this holiday does is make single people feel bad. You’re not bitter about it or anything, it’s just a fact, okay fine, you’re a little salty.

Today is another Valentine that you’re spending single, but this time at least you have plans! While most of your friends were going to be off on dates, you were going to be calling your long-distance best friend and making fun of the whole holiday. To say you were excited to talk to the girl was an understatement.

Being a student-athlete wasn’t easy, Paige had complained about her busy schedule enough for you to know. Not that she had to, you could tell how exhausted she was whenever she found a bit of time to call you between school, homework, and basketball. It saddened you to know the blonde was wearing herself out completely to be the perfect student while also making sure she’s the best basketball player she can be. She barely ever has time to relax, and you’re scared she’s going to give herself a burn-out.

You were glad Paige found time today to hang out with you. You’ve missed her more than you thought you could ever miss anyone, not having heard her voice in weeks and only having gotten short messages to let you know she’s still alive.

“Everyone is gonna be out and about on friday after practice so I’ll have the dorm to myself, FaceTime at 10:30?” Her message had read last Sunday, and you’d immediately agreed. While you knew the Valentine’s Day hangout was just a friendly hangout between best friends, you liked pretending it would be a date.

When you met Paige, you never thought you’d ever fall for her so deeply, let alone be such good friends with her. But here you were, 6 years later, with the biggest crush on her.

When your mom sent you to a random month-long summer camp when you were 16, you’d protested with your whole being. You’d much rather stay home, bundled up on the couch all summer, re-reading your favorite book series, not going to a random camp out in the wild. “You’ll learn so much stuff! And you’ll make friends for life!” She’d said, making you roll your eyes. You didn’t believe a word she’d said, knowing that even if you managed to make friends, you’d only talk to them for that summer and maybe a month after.

You didn’t meet Paige until a week into camp. Her cabin was nowhere near yours, and so you weren’t in the same activity groups as her. One of your roommates had met her one night when she couldn’t sleep and went on a walk. She said you two would get along well, but the more she talked about the blonde, the less likely it seemed to you.

While you were shy, loved staying in, let people walk all over you, and were a bit of a teacher’s pet, 16-year-old Paige was the complete opposite. She was outgoing and friendly, and she loved teasing people even when she didn’t know them. She preferred the outdoors, getting restless when she had to stay in and couldn’t play her sports. She loved breaking the rules and always seemed to get away with it too, her charisma being able to charm all the camp leaders.

When your cabinmate had called her over during dinner, you were incredibly intimidated by the taller girl. She towered over you with a big grin, her blue eyes wide and full of mischief. She was loud and immediately set her eyes on you when she noticed your quietness. When your friends had joked about how shy you were, she’d only grinned wider, saying she was going to get you to come out of your shell.

She managed to win you over a lot faster than you dared to admit. After that dinner, she was always able to spot you in the crowd, coming over to tease you or introduce you to more people. Within a week, you two were glued at the hip. She managed to do what she said she would, making you a little less afraid to speak your mind, while you were able to bring a calm to her that no one knew existed.

You swore saying goodbye to her at the end of camp was one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do. You were quite dramatic at times. Sadly, you’d been right about the not staying friends thing. You two sent each other two letters once camp was over and called five times before life got too busy with school, extracurriculars, and new friends. After that, you didn’t talk for two years.

The next time you saw her again, you thought you were dreaming. You were touring different universities and had just finished the UConn one. Paige had managed to get even taller, her muscles were more defined, and she’d finally found her style. You thought you were mistaken at first, but then her bright eyes found yours, and a wide smile made its way onto her face. She excused herself from the conversation she was in and jogged over to you, not letting you say more than a hi before pulling you into a hug. You let yourself fall into the comfortable, familiar feeling, sinking into her as you hug her back.

This time, when you two parted and said you’d stay in touch, you actually did. Sadly, you didn’t end up going to UConn, instead choosing a university over two hours away from the blonde. Keeping in contact was easier now that you were older and more mature. You called each other multiple times a month, texting almost daily, and even met up IRL whenever you could. You’d attended quite a few of her games, and she even surprised you on your birthday last year.

That birthday is your favorite one so far. Paige had surprised you with flowers and a book you’d been wanting for ages. She spoiled you like crazy that day, even staying the night at your dorm before having to go back to UConn. The day after was the day you realized you were head over heels for her. You became aware of the fact that the butterflies you felt in your stomach weren’t just from being excited at seeing your best friend, they were actually because you had a crush on her.

You never told her about your feelings, however. You figured she only saw you as a friend and knew that there were hundreds of girls throwing themselves at her feet, so why would she choose someone who didn’t even live in the same state as her?

You shake yourself out of your thoughts as you readjust yourself on your bed. Seeing it’s already 10:28, you open your camera to make sure you look okay. Patting down the flyaway hairs, you smile at your reflection. Closing the app, you grab your water bottle to take a sip and calm your growing nerves.

Knowing you’ll be even more nervous if you keep staring at the seconds tick by, you open TikTok and scroll on your FYP to pass the time. You quickly realize that wasn’t the best idea, seeing as there are only edits of Paige on your screen. Your face becomes a bright red as you watch the videos and save them all. You close the app after seeing an edit that makes you feel certain things, fanning your face as you try to get rid of your blush.

When you look at the time again, you shake your head in amusement. 10:35. In the years that you’ve known the blonde, there haven’t been many instances in which the girl has been on time. Usually, it bothers you to no end when someone is late. It makes you feel as though they don’t respect you enough to be on time. With the blonde, it’s different, however.

It’s cute to see her all flustered, apologizing again and again for her tardiness. It makes you laugh when she pouts at you, complaining about how her laptop had to do another update, how her alarm didn’t go off, or how Geno always has it out for her during the practices before a call. You grin when she leaves out the part where she was once again being a menace at practice, teasing her about it after Nika texts you to let you know Paige will be late and why.

You send her a quick text, asking if she managed to piss off Geno again, before checking to see if the Croatian had texted you anything. After another 5 minutes pass, you frown a little, slightly worried about the blonde. When your phone buzzes, you sit up straighter, fluffing up your hair a bit as you prepare to start the call. Grabbing your phone, you expect a “Sorry I’m late! You ready?” message, but you deflate instead.

“Hey, sorry I can’t call 2day, feeling exhausted, rain check?” It reads.

Of course, this isn’t the first time Paige has had to cancel on you. You understood that her busy schedule left her incredibly exhausted, and you knew she hated herself every time she had to cancel. Usually she pushed through, calling you anyway and falling asleep within 10 minutes of the call. She’d apologize profusely, a big frown on her face as her eyes turn a murky blue in sadness. You always told her you didn’t mind, you actually found it cute how her tired eyes would slowly blink at you before finally closing.

The fact that she actually canceled this time meant she didn’t feel good at all, so you let her know it was okay and that you’d talk soon. Once you wish her sweet dreams as she goes to take a nap, you close your laptop with more force than necessary.

While you typically wouldn’t mind all that much, you did this time. You missed her like crazy, you hadn’t had the easiest week, all your friends were out having fun, and to top it all off, you were about to have your period, making you even crankier than usual. You sit in silence for a moment as you try to blink away your tears. You press your palms to your eyes as you shake your head. Slapping your cheeks softly, you try to snap out of it. “Don’t be such a little baby,” you think to yourself.

You get up and stretch before pausing in the middle of the room. You look around a little lost, unsure of what to do now that your plans fell through. You bite your lip as you think about the tub of ice cream you left in your freezer for when you had a bad day. You pout as you realize you’ll spend yet another Valentine’s Day watching a cheesy movie that’ll make you cry into your ice cream.

Right as you’re about to open the freezer, you hear a knock at the door. You throw your head back, holding in a groan as you debate pretending no one is home. You knew it was most likely your roommate, who knew you were going to be home, having forgotten her keys again, so you make your way over to the door.

You take a quick peek into the mirror to check if your eyes look red from your mini breakdown, silently cursing when they do. Rolling your eyes at yourself, you open the door, ready to tell your roommate to not mention it.

You freeze as your jaw drops open. Paige is standing in the hallway, holding a bouquet of red roses and a big teddy bear, a wide smile carved on her face. “Surprise,” she says, her voice soft as she takes you in. You cover your mouth with your hand as tears well up in your eyes again. “Damn these hormones,” you think, blinking to make them go away.

Seeing your watery eyes, the blonde’s smile softens as she mutters a “C’mere.” You fall into her open arms, squeezing her tightly as you nuzzle your face into the crook of her neck. Paige leans her head against yours, pressing a gentle kiss against your temple. She slowly shuffles you backward into your dorm, using her foot to close the door behind her.

Once you realize the way you’re gripping onto her, you let her go, heat creeping up your face. You feel a bit embarrassed, but the feeling gets taken over by the happiness of finally being near the blonde again. “What’re you doing here?” You breathe out as you look at her in childlike wonder. “Wanted to spend Valentine’s with my favorite girl,” she replies, shoving the flowers and bear towards you. The butterflies in your stomach flutter around as you take the gifts with a wide smile, your cheeks bright red at the nickname.

You quickly put the flowers in a vase with some water before setting the teddy bear down on the couch. When you turn back towards Paige, you see her already staring at you with a soft look in her eyes. You skip back over to her, flinging yourself back into her arms, making her chuckle. “Thank you,” you mutter against her shirt, fondness seeping through in your voice.

You pull back slightly with a loving smile, looking up at her but not leaving her arms. She moves one hand away from your back, bringing it towards your face as she rubs your cheek. “Anything for you,” she mumbles as she takes in your face like she’s trying to memorize every bit of it. You can feel your face heat up, but you can’t look away. Your heart beats faster as you admire her, waiting to see what’s on her mind as you see different emotions swim around in her eyes.

Softly clearing her throat, she steps back nervously as she takes an envelope out of her pocket. She shifts her weight from foot to foot as she looks down at the envelope, her throat bobbing as she swallows harshly. “I, uh,” she starts, biting her lip before looking up at you with an anxious yet hopeful look. “This is for you,” she says, handing you the envelope. You raise an eyebrow at her as you ask, “What’s this?”

“Jus open it,” she says, fidgeting with her sleeve. You open the envelope tentatively, a little nervous at how anxious the usually confident girl is. Folding open the pink letter, you scan the page, smelling her perfume as if she sprayed it on the paper. You smile in adoration as you see the usual scribbly handwriting, this time a little less messy. Taking a quick glance at the girl, you see her rub her neck, nodding at you to read it. Your heart skips a beat as you read the words.

It’s… It’s a love confession.

You grip the paper a little tighter as you read about how Paige has had a crush on you for the past two years and how much you mean to her. Your eyes stay glued to the page until you reach the end. “Will you be my valentine?” The last sentence reads.

You look up at her in shock, excitement bubbling in your chest. The athlete is still looking at you, her eyes wide and hopeful. “Really?” You whisper, not wanting to break the intimate atmosphere. She nods her head as she bites her lip shyly. A broad smile spreads across your face as you nod enthusiastically. “Yes!” You say, your voice a bit higher as you’re unable to contain your joy.

“Yeah?” Paige grins, her confident, cheerful self showing again. She grabs you again, lifting you up as she twirls you around. You can’t help the laugh that escapes your lips at the giddiness you’re feeling. “Okay, uhh, I’ve made dinner plans for tonight, but I was thinking we could just chill here for a bit and then go get lunch in that cute little café we went to last time I was here!” The blue-eyed girl beams.

You’re already nodding your head before she finishes her sentence, knowing you’d do anything with the girl. Seeing as you still have some time before you need to start getting ready, you drag the basketball player to your couch. You let her sit down first before settling down next to her and swinging your legs over her lap. You’d been in this position plenty of times before, but those times never felt as intimate as this time.

Your heart thrums in your chest as Paige immediately rests her hands on your legs, rubbing them softly as she relaxes into her seat. You hold your new teddy bear against your chest as you watch the blonde fondly. Catching you staring, she sends you a smirk, making you look down with a chuckle.

“So, how’d you manage to get coach to let you skip practice?” You ask, your head tilted in question. “Oh, that was easy, he loves me, so he said he’d let me skip for once,” she replies smoothly. You huff out a laugh as she says that, mischief clear in her eyes. “You’re such a liar,” you grin back. “Okay, okay, maybe that’s not exactly how it went,” she rolls her eyes playfully. You look at her triumphantly as she gives your leg a little squeeze, more amused than annoyed that you caught her. “He said I could skip, but that my next practice is gonna be extra hard.”

You look at her in amusement but also slight worry. “You didn’t have to do this, you know? I would’ve been happy with just a phone call. I don’t want you to work yourself to the point of passing out,” you reply, your brows furrowed slightly in concern. She shakes her head, bringing one hand to your face to smooth out your frown. “I know I didn’t have to, but I wanted to. Besides, I think I would’ve gone insane if I didn’t see you soon,” she says, her voice more vulnerable than you’re used to.

Your lips curve back into a smile as she continues. “And stop worrying about me so much, I’m okay. If things get too much, I’ll let you know, I promise.” She sticks out her pinky finger, grinning at you as you interlace yours with hers.

You two keep talking until it’s time to get ready for lunch. Seeing as Paige is already dressed, you leave her on your couch as you walk up to your closet to pick a nice outfit before running to the bathroom to put yourself together. Once you’re satisfied, you return to the couch, blushing as you see the blonde check you out. You raise your eyebrow and send her a teasing grin, letting her know you caught her. She simply sends you a smirk back as she gets up.

There’s not a moment of silence on the way to the café as you two talk about the latest things in your lives. You talk about classes, basketball, family, friends, and the weird dreams you’ve had. The conversation continues to flow during lunch and into the afternoon as you walk around the city with Paige. A smile is permanently etched into your face as you stroll around with your hand in the blonde’s. While her hand is a bit rough from playing so much basketball, it’s still very soft. She rubs her thumb across your knuckles as she animatedly talks about the shenanigans she’s been up to with the team.

When you stop for ice cream, you order your favorite flavor before noticing Paige taking another flavor you love. It confuses you a little, knowing she doesn’t really like it, but you don’t really pay any mind to it as you continue rambling about what your professor did last class. When you sit down, you enjoy your ice cream as you listen to the girl in front of you. She takes small bites in between sentences, making her still have half of it left when you’re done with yours. As she talks, she starts feeding you some of her cup, making you smile at how cheesy you two are being. You don’t mind, though, this is exactly what you’d dreamed of.

When you notice the blonde isn’t eating her ice cream anymore, only feeding you, you go to protest. You don’t get the chance to, however, as the girl knew what you were up to. She quickly shoves another spoonful into your mouth when you open it to speak, rolling your eyes playfully. She grins as she shrugs a little.

Once you two are done, you walk back towards your dorm, silently thanking your roommate for having her own plans and not being home. Once inside, you guide the blonde to your bed, plopping down as you put on a random show for background sounds. You spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing harder than you have in months.

“So, this dinner, where are we going?” You ask Paige as you crane your neck up from where you’re lying against her. She pretends to lock her mouth and throw away the key, making you roll your eyes. “You’re so unhelpful, y’know that?” She laughs, knowing it’s true. “Can you at least tell me what the vibe is? Do I need to dress fancy?” You question as you get up and walk over to your closet. You rifle through your options as the athlete speaks. “Semi-formal, I guess,” she shrugs, getting up herself. “Where are you going?” You ask as she starts walking towards the door.

“Gonna grab my bag from my car, I’m not going to dinner in this outfit,” she replies, making you nod in understanding. Once she’s gone, you pause for a moment, pinching yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. When you know for sure you’re not, you let out an excited squeal before calming yourself down and getting ready. Once you’re dressed, you sit down in front of your mirror to apply some light make-up.

You hear Paige walk back in, having borrowed your keys, as you’re applying mascara. Once you’re done, you look at her through the mirror and send her a bashful smile. She doesn’t smile back, too enthralled by your beauty. You shake your head as you giggle, grabbing your lip gloss. You lean in a bit closer to the mirror, applying a thin layer of gloss to make your lips shine. You glance over at Paige, seeing her eye the applicator as you glide it across your lips. She swallows harshly when you make eye contact, looking away sheepishly as she walks over to get ready in the bathroom.

You scroll through Instagram as you wait for the blonde, liking the Valentine’s Day posts from your friends. When you hear the bathroom door open, you glance up, your throat going dry. Paige always looked gorgeous, but right now, you think she’s never looked better. She smiles softly at you as you take her in. She doesn’t tease you about the way you’re basically drooling over her, knowing she’s just as enamored.

“You look beautiful,” she says, grabbing your hand and giving it a soft squeeze. “Says you,” you grin with rosy cheeks. Her eyes twinkle with happiness as she leads you to the door. “Oh, one sec!” You mutter, running back towards your dresser to grab something. You quickly put the tiny box in your bag before walking back over to Paige. “Alright, I’m ready,” you say, rocking back and forth in excitement.

You walk towards the taller girl’s car in comfortable silence, your hand in hers, fingers interlinked. You let her open the passenger door for you, chuckling at her as she gives you a bow. “M’lady,” she tries to say seriously, but she can’t stop the smile growing on her face. “You’re such a dork,” you reply as you get in, hoping she doesn’t notice the bright color of your cheeks.

Once you two are on the road, Paige takes one hand off of the steering wheel, putting her arm on the center console. You look at it for a moment before grabbing her hand and interlacing your fingers once more. You take a peek at the blonde to see her reaction and feel your stomach flutter when you see her sporting a tiny, content smile.

Once you get to the restaurant, you look around in awe. It was beautiful. You still can’t believe that all of this is real. That Paige Bueckers, your best friend, is taking you out on a date and treating you like a queen. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been smiling all day.

You two share a bottle of wine as you enjoy your food, letting one another taste each other’s dishes, grinning when you find the other’s food better. You giggle as you switch your plates around, not paying any mind to the looks you’re receiving. After finishing your meal, you order dessert, sharing the sweet treat, feeling pretty full from dinner.

Once you’re done, Paige pulls out a wrapped box with a tiny ribbon bow. For a moment you’re confused where it came from, but you quickly dismiss your confusion. “Paige, you didn’t have to get me anything! You’ve already paid for everything today,” you whine, feeling bad about how much the girl is spending on you. “Oh hush,” she says, “I love spoiling my girl.” “Your girl, huh?” You tease with a grin. She rolls her eyes lightheartedly. “Open itttt,” she says impatiently.

You giggle as you open it, letting out a gasp as you see the bracelet inside. “Paige…” you breathe out, “this is beautiful.” “Yeah? You like it?” She asks, hoping you’re speaking the truth. You nod eagerly, flashing her a toothy smile as you brush your thumb over the P charm. “I was scared it would be too possessive, giving you something with my initial on it for our first date,” she admits, scratching her temple. “I love it, P,” you say, letting her help you put it on.

You grab your bag, pulling out your own gift box. “You didn’t,” Paige grins as you hand it to her. “I did,” you grin back. “How? You didn’t even know I was coming today,” she asks, giving you a curious look. “I got this a while back and was just waiting for the perfect moment to give it to you,” you say, your heart drumming in your ears as you nervously wait for her reaction. Her face lights up at the sight of the new chain you’d gotten her. She lifts it out of the box, letting it shine in the dim restaurant lights.

She taps the tiny basketball pendant as it swings on the chain. The blonde sends you a radiant smile, her eyes shining with love. “Thank you,” she says, adoration clear in her voice. You raise one finger, making her pause. You rummage in your bag, grabbing a tiny plastic bag, before handing it to her with a smirk. She holds it close, laughing as she realizes what it is. Opening the bag, she grabs the tiny charm, twirling it between her fingers. “I see we had the same idea,” she smiles, her cheeks becoming a soft pink at the thought of wearing your initial on her neck.

You help her put it on before waving over the waiter for the bill. You begrudgingly let Paige pay, knowing you’d never win that fight against her. You hold her hand as you walk towards her car, squeezing it softly. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst with joy and adoration. Once you reach the car, you look at the taller girl as she pauses.

Her eyes flit over your face as she softly grabs your hips. She steps closer, gently pushing you against the car. She leans in closer, her eyes looking into yours with a questioning look. Your heart skips a beat as you nod lightly. The blue-eyed girl leans even closer, her lips hovering over yours for a moment to give you an extra second to change your mind. When you don’t, she presses her lips against yours in a slow but deep kiss. You grab her face, trying to pull her even closer as you close your eyes. After a minute, you pull away slightly to catch your breath. You move your hands towards her neck as you play with her baby hairs. The smile she sends you makes you weak in the knees, making you silently thank God that you’re leaning against the car.

“Be mine?” Paige breathes, her question sounding almost like a statement. You don’t need to think twice as you nod, pulling her into another kiss.

You know it won’t be easy, being in a relationship while you’re miles apart, but you know that it’s all worth it when you get to call this amazing girl yours.

#paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #paige bueckers oneshot #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x you #oneshot #imagine #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #wlw fanfic #bapeach writes

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silksongeveryday · 2 days ago

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Drawing Hornet everyday until Silksong comes out - Day 731.

Well, after two long years of posting, I’m finally taking a break.

Thank you guys for everything for the past two years. It’s genuinely been so fun making daily doodles. But all good things must come to an end eventually. I’m tired.

What are the plans moving forward?

read below the cut if you’d like to know!!

Taking a break:

Life in general has been really rough lately. Tons of family drama, personal medical issues making it impossible to function some days, and my childhood dog recently passed away a few days after Christmas last year. So it was a real challenge to “keep up appearances” if you know what I mean.

I’ve said this plenty of times in the past already, however I’ll repeat it since there’s surprisingly a lot more new people that have followed since then. I’m taking a whole month off from posting entirely. So I won’t be active on Silksongeveryday until about March 14th. Why? Hopefully it’s obvious but posting daily content for two years straight really does something to you. I’ve grown tired of this blog just a little bit, and I feel stepping away from it for a month will help me reconnect. I still love the game and its community, and I’d hate for my disinterest in a single blog to ruin that. If a month long break could fix that then so be it.

I’m also taking a somewhat indefinite break from daily doodles. I WILL still be posting doodles occasionally every once in a while after I come back from my month long break. However I won’t be doing daily doodles.

So no daily doodles ever again?

There is only one condition that has to be met for me to return to daily doodles.

A Silksong release date is announced.

Which is…let’s face it, a release date might not happen any time soon. 6 years of near radio silence from TC? I’m not expecting much, especially not in a month.

But WHEN a release date is announced I’ll definitely return to daily doodles and do a sort of daily “countdown” until Silksong is officially out.

Will doodle requests still be open?

Yes! Even if I will no longer be doing daily posts I will still occasionally post every once in a while with doodles! So if there’s a specific doodle you’d like to request and you have an extra $1 hanging around, hornet doodle requests are open on my ko-fi!!

What about the current projects that were happening on Silksongeveryday?

I’m still working on them! Just as mentioned before, a lot of stuff happened irl so it’s kind of on the back burner.

For the Hornet Journal Series: I plan to post the remaining entries after I come back from my month long break. Whether I work on them during that month long break totally depends on how I’m feeling. But there may be a likely chance I work on a few here and there on my own time! But regardless, I do plan to finish this project. So no worries!

For Hornet’s Strange adventures: I know it’s been ages since this particular project finished on the blog. Development for the free game is slow going since I’m working on this project entirely by myself with a game engine I’ve never used before. Progress is being made but it’s unfortunately slow thanks for irl conflicts. But, just like the journal series, I do plan to finish this project so I promise it won’t be abandoned!! I just need a break first lol.

___________

I think that’s all I have to say?? But if anyone has any questions, asks are always open and I’m more than happy to answer just about anything!

Thanks again for the wonderful experience, it’s been an amazing journey with you guys <3

See you all in a month!!

#ssed #silksongeveryday #hollow knight #silksong #hk hornet #hollow knight hornet #silksong hornet #hollow knight fanart #hk fanart

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leighsartworks216 · 2 days ago

Note

could I request it being the first time ur in a relationship for valentine's and youre not sure how to make it special for sylus because you've never celebrated before ? :)

My First Valentine

Sylus x gn!Reader

I wrote most of this today even tho the request came in a week ago 💀 sorry

Warnings: fluff, anxiety, nervousness, embarrassment, kissing, gift giving, flowers, Valentine's Day, insecurity, declarations of love, established relationship, pet names, reader is implied as being shorter/smaller than Sylus

Word Count: 1,922

Main Masterlist

First - Second - Third LADS Masterlists

AO3

Tag List Form

'45 Fun And Romantic Valentine's Day Date Ideas!' '13 Fun Valentine's Day Activities!' '25+ Romantic Things To Do This Valentine's Day!'

You sigh, closing yet another tab of holiday ideas. You don't know how many websites you've looked at now, all of them promising fantastic gifts or experiences, sure to sweep your partner off their feet. But none of them felt good enough. Not for Sylus.

All your life, Valentine's Day was another lonely day. Your friends and their partners would be out and about or getting together at home, and you'd be stuck in pjs, eating ice cream and watching the same cheesy rom-coms as the year before. The most you'd ever gotten out of the day was in school, when you'd get those little themed cards with a heart-shaped lollipop poked through them.

Now that you have a partner, every single thing you come across feels too cheesy, or like something he wouldn't be into. Not to mention, anything you could possibly buy, he could get on his own with his gobs of money.

Go on a trip? He owns his own private jet; he could go anywhere anytime.

Buy him flowers? More likely than not, they'd wilt twice as fast in the darkness of the N109 Zone.

Dinner at a restaurant means you'd have to find some really fancy place to suit his tastes to make sure he has a nice time. Cooking something yourself could hardly compare to his professional private chef's cooking.

You could get him some vinyls, but you'd hate to get him a duplicate. Weapons? Well, he's got that covered; he deals them.

Asking Luke and Kieran is a non-starter when they're equally as likely to give you good advice as fake advice that would make you look foolish.

You can't fathom how your friends make it look so easy to make plans for the day and get gifts for their partners. Though, you suppose, none of them are dating a multi-billionaire (if not multi-trillionaire or more) crime boss.

You sigh and close your laptop with a snap. What does Sylus enjoy that you can treat him to as a special holiday treat? Something you can feasibly accomplish before the actual day rolls around? Something other than a cheap visit to the arcade or the cat cafe...

Wait... Actually...

Sylus knows you live in rather modest means. He always insists you pay with his black card so you're not stressing about going broke. Why would he suddenly expect you to dish out wads of cash now on a trip or gift? Anything you give him - even if it's a cheap toy from the dollar store - he'd cherish like a gem.

And that's when the idea forms.

With all the preparations written down, you text him, bubbling with energy.

Syyyy

You seem rather playful all of a sudden. What's got you excited, kitten?

You can tell all that from one word??

No, I can tell all that because I know you

Awe 🥺 stop being so cute

Anyway!! I actually wanted to tell you that I have Valentine's Day all worked out!

Oh?

But it's a secret!

Well now I'm interested. What do I need to do for these plans of yours?

Just show up at my place at nightfall on the day of :3

That's it? Why do I feel like I'm being lured into a trap?

Oh yeah the worst trap of all a doting partner who wants to pour all their love on you

Alright. I'll see you then, kitten

But don't think I'll be showing up empty handed

I'd be concerned if you did ngl

Ily <3333333 Goodnighttt

Goodnight, sweetie. I love you too

For how simple your plan is - or perhaps because of how simple your plan is - you've never been more nervous in your life. You've double and triple checked everything, made sure he'll be comfortable and not too disappointed with what you've come up with, and second-guessed yourself several times about whether this is actually a good idea.

Not that it matters. You'd be really down to the wire to come up with something new now.

You pace the living room, wringing your hands together, chewing your lip, fussing with your hair. You feel like a dog excited to see its owner when you hear a patterned knock on the door. So excited you nearly trip over the corner of a blanket in your haste to answer it.

Sylus is there to greet you, an easy grin on his face and softened eyes. A large bouquet that you'd drown in rests deceptively small in the crook of his arm. A bag hangs from his other hand, but he sets it down when you step into the hall to hug him.

He chuckles fondly, squeezing you tightly to him and kissing your head. "You look cozy," he teases playfully. His fingers tug at the back of your pajamas.

You laugh nervously as you step back. "Ah, yeah. It's part of the stuff I planned, actually."

He quirks an eyebrow. "I'm a bit overdressed."

"Don't worry! I got you some!" Your face grows hot. You feel like an idiot, flustered and inexperienced. "Come in, so I can explain better."

You take the bouquet from his arm. It's full of your favorite flowers, their delightful aroma tickling your nose as you carry them into the kitchen to look for a vase. You have to rely on your muscle memory to move around; they completely block your vision. Sylus follows in after you with his bag, peering around the little space of your apartment. He'd offered to get you a bigger one, once. Somewhere with a view, soundproof walls, and all the upgraded appliances you ogled in the stores. But you refused, and he respected that, even if it meant being inconvenienced by the lack of space for someone of his size.

His eyes land on the couch, covered in blankets of all sizes. Various DVDs cover the coffee table alongside a neatly folded pair of pajamas. It's cluttered, but purposefully so, as if the mess has been built into the experience.

You find a vase (bought after the first time he bought you flowers that you had to divvy up between various drinking cups) and settle the bouquet on the small dining table. There's no room left for two people to eat there. You come back out looking a mite more disheveled than before.

You smile awkwardly up at him, eyes flickering from his face to your setup as you rock back and forth on your feet. "So! Um, I've never actually had a partner to celebrate Valentine's Day with before, so I used to get a bunch of ice cream, maybe some takeout, and I'd just spend the night on the couch with a bunch of cheesy rom-coms. And now we're together and I didn't know what I could do because you can have anything you want at any given moment. But, um, I just thought, for my first Valentine's Day with someone, I could... share my 'tradition' with you." You exhale a shaky breath. "I know it's probably not what you were expecting..."

"Sweetie," he gently interrupts your rambling. He sets the bag on the couch, then closes the space between you, holding your face in both his hands, urging you to meet his eyes. They shine with something warm and sweet, like cherry wine. "It's not what I was expecting, but it's better than anything I could have imagined."

You scoff. "You're just saying that."

He shakes his head. "I can't buy a tradition, sweetie. This is something that means a lot to you. I'm fortunate enough to be the one person who gets to share it with you; no amount of money could do that."

Your heart feels light. It floats around your chest like a balloon filled with helium. Butterflies flutter in your stomach to join in on the fun. Is this how your friends felt with their partners? It's addicting. You try to blink away the incoming tears before they can form.

"What did you bring?" you ask suddenly, redirecting the conversation away so you can have a chance to gather yourself.

Fortunately, he lets you have it. With a knowing smirk, he kisses your forehead and steps away back to the couch. You miss the proximity immediately.

He pulls out each item one by one, holding it up to show you. "Wine. I can't say anything about how it'll taste, but the label was pretty, so I thought you'd like it." He sets it on the coffee table.

"You mentioned that you liked to go to the store the day after to buy the discounted candy. Well, it wasn't discounted, but I grabbed a variety." Those remain in the bag, but he has to shift it all around to reach something at the bottom.

He seems the most proud of - and the most nervous for - this one. He glances over at you before he pulls it out, as though double checking he has your attention. From the bag comes a hoodie, that he holds by the shoulders to let it unfold. It's nothing too special to look at, but the size is what strikes you. When he holds it up, it's clearly the perfect size for him. His ears tinge pink as he holds it out for you.

"You complained once that I don't have any hoodies for you to steal, like other couples do," he reminds you, voice soft and vulnerable.

He watches carefully as you step forward and reach out to feel the material. It's soft. So soft. You take it into your arms. The familiar scent of Sylus wafts up from the fabric; his body wash, his cologne, him. You hold it up to your nose to smell it better as you look up at him in awe.

"I wore it for a couple days," he admits. "If you don't like it, I can-"

"I love it." You really are going to cry now. You step forward, clinging the hoodie to your chest as he wraps his arms around you. "Sy, this means so much to me. I'm never gonna be able to take it off."

He chuckles. His arms squeeze you just a bit tighter, pull you a bit closer. "I'm glad. You're my first Valentine, too."

You pull back enough to look up at him. Your eyes are glassy, surprise to earnest on your face. "Wha- Really?"

"You sound surprised."

"Well, I mean, I just- You're so... you. That's a compliment, by the way."

"I was waiting for the right partner," he says with a huff of laughter. He dips his head down, soft lips capturing yours in a meaningful kiss. When he speaks again, it's in soft murmurs between kisses. "I'll go change... into the pajamas you got me... and then... we can watch... your movies."

The butterflies are back in full force. Each kiss has them flittering about, doing swoops and swirls in your stomach, wings tickling your insides. "Okay... Mm, but, stay here a bit longer..."

He smiles against your lips, hands sliding up your body to hold your face as he tilts his head, yearning to taste more of you, feel more of you. "Love you, sweetheart..."

You blindly set the hoodie on the arm of the couch to hold his fancy shirt in both hands, drawing him closer, knuckles brushing against the defined muscle beneath the fabric. "I love you, Sylus... Mm, so much... so much..."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko @deusfoundry @that-lost-one @always-just-red @22carolina08 @lunaizhere @sine-nomine0 @beautifulthingsiadore @lalaluch @burningtrashgentleman

#fanfic #fanfiction #sylus #sylus x reader #love and deepspace sylus #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads #lads x reader #lnds #lnds x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #gender neutral reader #x gender neutral reader

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beardedmrbean · 3 days ago

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SpaceX has managed to bring the cost of launches down exponentially the same as some of the other private contractors for regular satellite launches and ISS crew and supply missions while at the same time letting NASA focus it's energy on it's core mission of finding out what's out there and getting crewed missions out further than we ever have.

The amount that doing all of this has saved the taxpayer will more than offset the subsidies and concessions the different companies get if it hasn't already.

As investments go this one is paying off in huge ways for the American public and global population as well, not just in monetary terms but the technologies they need to invent or refine are going to be very good for the planet and the people that live on it.

There's some SpaceX bottom/booster stages that have over 25 launches to their names, the payload fairings get picked up after a launch and reused as well, not sure how much they save with the boosters but it's $6 million for the fairings each time. Turnaround on the boosters is pretty dang quick too, can't compare it to anything else because there's never been anything like it.

I love the Space Shuttle, but man that was a money sink and reusable could be debatable at least in part.

Hate musk all you like, but SpaceX, Rocket Lab, Firefly, and several others do good work at a lower cost

I could do without Blue Origin doing the suborbital tourist launches, but that's gonna be mostly because I'm jealous I can't go on one.

I'd like to keep the federal funding for Public radio and TV, but I would like there to be some oversight on what they put out because if the taxpayers are funding it then it should represent all of the taxpayers, which it hasn't for a long long time, it's moved so far to the left on things that at times they make msnbc look right wing.

Then again if the numbers on that tweet are correct, then cutting that funding shouldn't be much of a hit for them.

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kaisollisto · 3 days ago

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“Are you here?" Ava barely breathes it, there's a tension in the air that she can't recognize, an energy that squashes her. Her throat feels scratchy and she can feel the Halo slotted between her shoulders. Ava's flat on her back head turned to look over at Beatrice. She feels wimpy like a stomped flower, her left arm dangles dangerously close to Beatrice-territory. She wants to reach out, to touch Beatrice to confirm that she's here but something stops her. She feels so silly, she could easily shift over to touch Beatrice, shake her gently and -

Beatrice slides over, a firm sleepy sister warrior knife wielding badass with frumpy hair poofing from what remains of her low bun. She moves towards Ava, inches away from her but moves to answer her. It’s rare for Ava to see her like this. Beatrice is clearly fighting sleep, rubbing her eyes and doing her best to move in hopes that it’ll shake the sleepy spell.

She’s dressed in one of Ava’s ugly loose white shirts, a huge bass clashing with faded big blocky lettering that just reads “FISH”. Beatrice had looked at her weirdly when Ava had dug it out of the bins at a thrift store disheveled and ecstatic.

Ava had spent hours coaxing her into it doing her damn best to hide Beatrice’s laundry when she wasn’t looking. It fills a warm feeling in her chest and Ava wants to burrow further into it. It was a fool proof plan.

Ava found her shortness made it exhausting to reach up towards the Beatrice-level-cabinets. The halo pulls at her pinching and knotting up the muscles in her back after a long day of training. She feels it alive within her, an uncomfortable reminder sealed inside her back.

At the end of the day Ava settled on hinging at the waist. She had slowly started integrating Beatrice’s sleep shirts in cabinets that Beatrice had to bend down to reach. Ava always tried to situate herself at the scene of the crime doing her best to seem inconspicuous while she leaned over hungry for Beatrice’s reaction. Ava thumbed her findings down in the recess of her mind, her finger tracing over it in a hurried desperation. The time would pass and she did not want to forget.

(It helped, the imagery of Bea’s furrow when she would find her sleepwear underneath the sink when Ava would have to tuck her spine into the halo as she placed the shirt somewhere clean.)

Thanks to her genius planning Beatrice had finally caved and worn Ava’s huge “FISH” t-shirt after weeks of her persistence. She looked adorable, she was drowning in it and constantly tugging at it. She had found Beatrice loved to tuck it into the band of her sleep shorts creating puffy funny creases distorting the text even further to say “FSH”. It looked so ugly and old and endearing.

She looked out of her depth and it made Ava’s heart thump funny. Beatrice with her weird posh mannerisms combined with the peaceful unguarded look when she slumbered made her feel hot all over.

It was the prospect of the future, a glimpse into her life with Beatrice, of when they would grow old together. It shakes her, the idea that Beatrice will get wrinkles with her. She takes it seriously, a study that she isn’t well versed in but preparing for. It is a long hard internal debate flipping between what wrinkles will show first. Ava selfishly hopes it’s smile lines, that Beatrice will smile at her as much as she does in secret. She’s happy to be wrong, Beatrice’s forehead crinkles have always been cute. She hopes that Beatrice never stops looking at her, thinking of her. She wants to spend a long time being the source of her wrinkles. And just for right now she can handle the role of being just her friend.

Beatrice blinks one eye open, the other pressed against the pillow as she stifles a yawn. Her hand blocks her mouth in a delicate way and Ava can see her nails are short and uneven in places. Ava wishes she could touch them, study them in a way no one has done before. She wants to press against Beatrice hard enough to watch her skin fold around hers. Some sort of truth that she was here, that she is here.

Beatrice scoots over slowly, her elbow tucked under the pillow. She stops inches away from Ava, a frown set in her jaw. Ava mirrors her position albeit more awkwardly and more wiggling than Beatrice’s but she finds a place where the Halo won’t bite her back.

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs it, a quiet thing between them.

Ava closes her eyes hoping Beatrice won’t notice her shakiness. She blinks a few times before she presses closer, the arm she’s laying on moving to support her head underneath the pillow.

There’s so much to tell her, anything and nothing at all and Ava doesn’t know where to start. It constricts her throat, the constant stream of consciousness from inside of her heart. It’s horrible and she can’t stop it as the feeling balloons inside of her lungs. Ava wants help, she so desperately wants to feel okay again, to feel anything other than the stupid fucking halo. It grates on her nerves and muscles, a burning hot metal ring poking and prodding at the entirety of her upper torso. It leaves her reeling, a sort of anger that beckons for her to hurt (hurt something, hurt someone, hurt), disregarding the aftermath of tears and shame.

Ava is sure she’s shaking, a layer of sweat gathers between the space of her shoulder blades as the Halo lights up with her inner turmoil. It’s a faint pitiful thing that Ava would be ashamed of if not for the bone aching tiredness.

She wants to say she’s sorry the words clawing their way up her throat and it feels wrong to feel anything but that. There’s a sort of unspoken shame that haunts her with the Halo. It’s a thing she’s known long before any of this.

Beatrice drags her out of her turmoil with her hand hovering near Ava’s pinky. She has a gracefulness to it, like she has practiced it a hundred times over. It’s weird, to be in a bed, a soft and lumpy bed looking at Beatrice. Beatrice with such plain features and subtle cheekbones that Ava can’t stop looking. It pays off, watching Beatrice, Ava knows it when Bea smiles a grin too wide for polite acknowledgement and Ava can see her dimples pronounced.

“Can I?” Beatrice’s finger lingers near her hand, a hovering itch that Ava needs scratched. It’s so wholeheartedly Beatrice that Ava can do nothing but nod. Something inside of Ava aches harder than the rest of the organs inside of her. It’s the unwavering crushing thumping feeling that squeezes around her heart. The sincerity of Beatrice.

She places her hand over Ava’s and squeezes her gently. Beatrice’s hands are firm and soft. She can feel the callouses on her palms prodding at the back of her hand and wonders if Beatrice has ever had them fade away. If she’s had the pleasure of unscathed palms. Her hands are warm but not sweaty, not like Ava’s.

Ava can’t feel Beatrice’s pulse but she tries her best to match it. She imagines it would be a slow melody playing a duet with a classical track. Some sort of tune that spurs comfort or a feeling of nostalgia. She briefly wonders if Beatrice listens to music, if she seeks out music that has spoken to her. If there was a song that shook her to her core so deeply she had to sit down and digest it. There’s so much she still needs to know and so little time.

“I admit I’m not sure what you need from me.” Beatrice whispers it quietly, she’s hunched awkwardly, hovering close in Ava’s space but too far away for her own comfort.

Ava clamps her mouth shut, sure that “come closer” will betray her. That she will reach too far into Beatrice and take far too much.

Beatrice pays no mind to Ava’s silence and slowly caresses her hand, it’s a small little gesture that seems to have no set course. Ava briefly wonders if it’s the start of a massage or if Beatrice is looking for her joints underneath her skin and touching her tendons in apology.

It should be awkward, Beatrice and Ava orbiting each other in a lopsided manner. A rotational tilt that is unfamiliar to both of them and yet feels intimate. An unknown dance with their eyes closed and their breaths mingling. (It’s easy to follow Beatrice’s lead, Ava knows love.)

There’s nothing Ava can say to her, she chokes up at the prospect and they both blink at each other. She’s not sure what she needs, only that it’s nice having someone here.

Beatrice drowsily blinks rapidly and slowly at the same time as Ava watches swallowing the bits of her smile. Her hand has slowed its pathing, opting to curl on the inside of Ava’s fingers. It’s endearing watching one of her favorite bad ass sister warriors lose against sleep. It softens the edges of Beatrice who is always carrying some unseen obligation. (Here it is only the two of them free of their past and future burdens, just two girls sprawled thinly on hopes and dreams).

She can feel Beatrice’s grip loosen, she’s going to fall back asleep any minute now but Ava doesn’t have the heart to keep her up. Beatrice is no doubt tired, powered by her own sleeping and eating habits unlike Ava who has the artifact to juice her up.

She isn’t quite unwound but she feels manageable now. It’s weird to be within reach of Beatrice, someone who cares about her. To be in proximity of someone who will look for her, be in step with her, maybe it’s duty but Ava holds it close to her heart regardless. (It’s all the same to her, devotion, loyalty, love).

She clings to Beatrice afraid to let the moment go, she had called and someone had answered, Bea had answered. Ava can feel her eyes watering, it almost feels like a distant dream. She tucks her chin closer to chest and thinks, how awful to be loved.

She can feel her throat closing up and she squeezes Bea’s hand just a tiny bit harder. (She answers in the twitch of her hand, clearly on the cusp of sleep). The Halo still thunders in her back throbbing some fatal fate but here in the hush of night grounded by the touch of Beatrice she has some reprieve. (Part 1)

#tko_writes #oh how awful it is to be loved #had that revelation when my sister kept texting me if I was alive and ok oh boy that fucked me up #hello dytik installment #it's probably gonna run as a 5 times __ and the 1 time __ but that's if i can pull 3 more things out of my ass #hahahah #ooops #there's like no structure here #I think i did too much trying to jampack everything #but we'll see #closing my eyes and hitting post #cuz we r writing ugly and scared #zzzzzz #THAT'S NOT MY PROBLEM #I JUST WRITE AND MAKE MISTAKES AND LEARN FROM IT #so many good ideas here but sometimes they don't all fit together and that's what i think what happened #Offtopic I read a fic from Arcane and it was like CaitVi but from the perspective of Cait's mom (n cait was transfem WOOOOOOOOOOOOO)#and that shook me and I briefly fantasized about Avatrice but through Bea's parents #Somethign something i think it would nice to see complex characters come to life instead of writing it off as #homophobia n typical strict asian parents #and instead as sometimes you venture into the unknown unsure whether you will be whole on the other side and it is the only way you know ho #to live and you must make sure that your child knows the same feels the same lives the same way you only know how because there is no optio #for failure and ur just so scared by that failure that you don't want your child to go through it and having to learn and adapt to the new #future of hey it doesn't have to be this way anymore. TLDR IS THERE ANYTHING MORE UNDOING THAN A DAUGHTER #it all boils down to having a CHILD AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA but like i get it #it's just the complexity of hating your parents but understanding why they are the way they are and how could you fault them when this is #all they've ever known #and it's fucked up but it's still love #love for you and blah blah blah blah #anyway enough yapping for a diff story

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wanderingblindly · 3 days ago

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Number 60 on the Situations list with Oscar pls!!💞

I'VE WANTED TO WRITE A TRUTH SPELL FOR SO LONG!!!!! this one is teeechnically norpiastrell (i think that's the full ship name??) but it's only landoscar on screen. Hope u enjoy!!! Celebratory prompt list here!

Please Shut Me Up

Oscar snags Lando as when he walks by the closet, door just cracked enough for spying purposes. Lando yelps, expectantly, and Oscar makes quick work of eliminating the evidence: clamping his hand over Lando's mouth, closing the door, turning them so his back is pressed against it as a makeshift lock.

Lando's brows are drawn together, staring at him like he's grown a second head. And considering the situation, Oscar can't really blame him.

He takes a deep breath and lowers his hand.

"Mate, what the fu–"

"Something's wro– you smell really nice," Oscar winces, biting his tongue. The closet is tight, it's not his fault that he noticed. Right?

Lando manages to look even more confused, a feat. "Thanks?"

"Something's wrong, Lando."

"Because I smell nice?"

"God, you're an idiot," Oscar groans, hating that he said it. He doesn't really mean it, not like that, but apparently there's only room for literal truths – not nuance. "Not an idiot, you're not stupid – you're a bit daft, but not, um. Fuck. I really don't wanna keep talking, reckon I can't stop. Can you – your hands are um. I think about them –"

It's Lando's turn this time, slapping a hand over Oscar's mouth, only managing to muffle the onslaught of horror coming from him.

"I think your hand is big enough to –"

"Oscar," Lando hisses, holding his jaw shut with his other hand to finally shut him up. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Oscar's reply is muffled, lost in his cheeks and spoken to closed teeth. 'I love you.'

"Don't answer that."

Oscar rolls his eyes.

"I'm gonna call Max –"

Oscar shakes his head fervently, awash with renewed terror. Making an ass of himself in front of Lando, he could handle that. Lando would probably laugh off anything, would think that it wasn't a truth spell but rather a humorous sort – fine. Oscar can take his feelings being a joke.

But Max would know.

Max would know.

"Right so… no Max?"

Oscar nods.

"You wanna explain?"

Oscar shakes his head.

"Really think you need to explain, mate. I dunno what to do about this." He starts to relax his grip on Oscar's mouth, his jaw, and in a desperate panic – heart rate dangerously high – holds them back in place.

He starts trying to babble about how hot it is that his hands don't cover Lando's, something about how he wants him to be rough with him, but thankfully it's too muffled to mean anything.

"What the fuck would you tell Max?" Lando raises a brow at him, eyes squinted in suspicion.

Oscar shakes his head.

"Oh, nothing? You'd tell him nothing, then? Right, let's go –" Lando slides his hands out from under Oscar's, releasing a torrent he'd rather die than own up to.

"I love him. I love you. I don't wanna break you up, that's… You're gonna think this is all a joke, but Max is gonna realize that it's real, so we can't call Max. But I been in love with you both for ages and it's – stop me, please stop me, please stop me," Oscar grits between his teeth, trying with all his might to hold his jaw closed, screwing his eyes shut so he doesn't have to see Lando's look of utter–

"You… what?" Lando whispers, voice so soft that it somehow manages to make Oscar's tongue freeze, makes his eyes open.

He's staring at him with wide, astonished eyes – lacking any sort of hurt, any tinge of repulsion. It's just…

Oscar feels like he's going to throw up. "I love you. Both. You and Max, I love you and Max, I –"

"You muppet," Lando closes the minuscule space between them, struggling to wrap his arms around Oscar's neck. He's beaming, the one that crinkles his eyes into the most adorable crescent moons he's even seen, as he leans his entire body against him – warm and lithe and everything Oscar's ever wanted. "It's… yeah. Let's call Max."

"I wanna kiss you," Oscar says dumbly, truth-addled brain too lost to believe what's happening.

And Lando does it, presses his lips against Oscar's gently – something like a whisper, a passing dream. Until he tilts his head, inviting Oscar to take what he really wants, to wrap his arms around his waist and kiss him fully, deeply.

He doesn't even notice the feeling of the spell snapping in the back of his mind – some arbitrary criteria met. It matters so much less than the feeling of Lando's tongue darting across his lips, the taste of breathing in his quiet, contended hums.

Maybe calling Max is a great idea.

#THIS WAS SO FUN #landoscar #norpiastrell #pianortrell #i think?#f1 drabble #ask me :)#liquid's milestone celebration!!!#f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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angstywaifu · 2 days ago

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Black Dahlia - 35. Just Sex?

Summary: Fucking War Games.

Garrick Tavis x OC (Dahlia Aetos)

Black Dahlia Masterlist | Masterlist | Links

I can’t help but glare up at the dais. Fucking War Games. Leadership had strolled down the halls at an ungodly hour this morning, ringing bells, banging on doors, and calling for us all to dress and head to formation. Which for those who got sleep was fine. Myself on the other hand… the multiple rounds Garrick and I had gone for had left both of us with very little sleep. And by very little. I got none.

I wanted to burn the memory of me trying to scurry off Garrick, hastily dressing in my dress uniform before I’d rushed out the door only to run into Xaden who was about to knock on the door, as well as Bodhi who had been following him like a lost puppy. Bodhi who was now staring a head with a shit eating grin on his face.

”What’s up with you two? You look like you want to murder someone and Bodhi looks like you’ve given him the best gift he’s ever gotten.” Austin comments as she looks between the two of us.

”Oh because she did.” He joyfully adds as he smiles down at me. I roll my eyes, ignoring his comment.

“It’s nothing. I just didn’t sleep well.” I say dismissively, Austin looking at me like she doesn’t believe me but slowly nods.

”I hardly think Garrick is nothing.” Bodhi teases from besides me, Austin’s eyes snapping to him. I on the other hand turn and narrow my eyes at him, catching a pair of familiar hazel eyes as I do so. “Remind me where I found you this morning?”

Austin grasps my shoulder excitedly. “Holy shit, did it happen?”

”Oh it definitely did.” Liz says happily as she pokes her head around Austin.

”For fucks sake, yes. Now keep your voices down.” I hiss at them as I turn my attention back to the front where leadership and wing leaders are talking.

”So are you two like together?” Bodhi whispers to me as he leans closer.

I shove him away jokingly. “It was just sex.”

Bodhi looks shocked at my words, looking between me and where I know Garrick stands. I don’t dare meet Garrick’s eyes though. I know if I do I’ll want to drag him away at figure out what the fuck we were now. And maybe go another round or two. Two weeks ago he’d essentially broken my heart even though I’d never given it to him. Then he’d come and defended me against my father like I meant something to him. And then I’d thrown caution to the wind and kissed him. Let him consume me, and give into the tension that had been there for the better part of the year. Though the few words we had spoken indicated this was more than just sex. But how much more I wasn’t sure. ”

I don’t think it was just sex, for either of you.” Bodhi states as he turns his attention back to me. “I might have only known you a year Dahlia, but I’ve never seen you like this. Go tell him.”

I look over and see Garrick looking directly at me. His hazel eyes piercing into mine, as if trying to read my thoughts, see what’s going on inside my head. I should hate him. Should want nothing to do with him after everything that had happened in the last year. But I didn’t. I wanted that handsome asshole more than anything. I wanted to leap into the unknown and see where the hell it took me. See what this could be, even if it meant getting hurt again.

”We have War Games to win first.” I tell Bodhi as I turn my head to look at him. “Let’s see if we survive that first before diving into my questionable love life.” A/N: And don't worry, I'm not that cruel to leave you hanging for a week. Post War Games coming tomorrow.

@imtoanonymousforyou @simplyme-fornow @omalmal @lalaluch @wolfbc97 @leptitlu @fullmoon-94 @the-fandom-ness @fan-of-many-bands @awkardnerd @heeseungthel0ml @acourtofsmutandstarlight @fairchild06 @freyagallileaevans @pit-and-the-pen @hannraumari @elliot-rain @thestarseternaal @stupid-and-contagious01 @hyperfixation-train-station @lxnvmvrzx @thebreadisthetruevillian @red0202 @fangirling-galore @craftytrashprincess @taliyahvermillion @xadenswhore @fenixyrie @lagrandeourse @hellodarling1357 @iambored24601 @thegiftofacreativemind @fanfictionjunkie1112 @mysticalfuncollectorus

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #the fourth wing #garrick tavis #fourth wing imagine #the empyrean #garrick tavis imagine #garrick tavis x reader #fourth wing x reader #garrick tavis x oc #garrick tavis x dahlia aetos #dahlia aetos #black dahlia #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran

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levanterhaze · 2 days ago

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── GAMEBOY, BANGCHAN

♡ ― 󠀬󠀬 fratboy!bangchan x f!reader there's no smut in this one just a sliiiight mention of it, this is just drama and angst because this chapter will tell a lot about their future relationship! contains mentions of anxiety too.

♡ synopsis ― Bangchan is the campus playboy—charming, cocky, and infuriatingly irresistible. One reckless, drunken night leads to a secret you swore you'd never have. Now, hating him is harder than keeping him your dirty little secret.

[5.5k words ]♡― i can't believe that so many people like gameboy, like, that's crazy! thanks for everyone's support. to those who ask to be added to the taglist, it warms my heart. if you want to talk about the story or anything else, i'm open to questions and conversation! don't forget to listen to the playlist and those who just got here PLEASE READ THE PREVIOUS CHAPTERS!!!! that said, have a good read.

♡― THE PLAYLIST.

♡ [part one] ♡ [part two] ♡ [part three]

You're scared of heights, that's vertigo You wanted lights, go see a show You ran away, that's touch and go You're scared of love, well, aren't we all?

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into two days, then three, then four. Before you even realized it, seeing him had become part of your routine, like breathing—natural, inevitable, and far too easy to justify.

Today, though, your mind was anywhere but on him. Mrs. Baek had scheduled a meeting, nothing more, nothing less. You and Hyunjin were goofing around, hands clasped as you twirled like a chaotic, offbeat version of Jack and Rose at a third-rate ballroom. Seungmin doubled over laughing, because of course he did. That was just your dynamic—ridiculous by nature, friends for life.

Then, everything stopped. A chorus of surprised gasps cut through the room, followed by an eruption of chatter that made your spinning halt. Confused, you glanced around, searching for the source of the commotion—until you saw her. Mrs. Baek stood at the front, and next to her…

No. Absolutely not.

Your stomach flipped as your eyes landed on him. Standing there with his head tilted slightly downward, one hand gripping the opposite arm—ridiculously muscular, by the way—Bangchan looked unfairly good in a black T-shirt that was doing the bare minimum to cover anything.

Your gaze flickered to Hyunjin, then to Seungmin, silently demanding an explanation, but before either of them could speak, Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the haze of your disbelief.

“…which is why we now have a new student to take care of the sound design. Welcome, Bangchan.”

And then—anger.

The girls whispered like they’d just witnessed the famous idol in the world. Bangchan basked in the attention, grinning at them, then at the guys. And then, of course, his eyes found you. One brow lifted, pure challenge.

No. Fucking. Way.

“Sound design? Since when?” you weren’t really expecting an answer, but Hyunjin, ever the dependable sidekick, squeezed your shoulder and offered a half-smile.

“It’s kinda his and Jisung’s thing,” he said, arms crossed as he observed Bangchan effortlessly charm his way through the group. “Jisung’s drowning in work this semester, so I guess that’s why.”

Oh, how nice. How convenient. You couldn’t care less. It was one thing sneaking around with him in secret. It was another for him to invade your space. Your special space. And worse—acting like he belonged there.

As soon as the group began to break apart, you made your exit, feet moving fast. The last thing you needed was—

“Running away already?”

You stopped dead, fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. Spinning on your heel, you found Bangchan standing there, arms crossed, smirking like he had all the time in the world.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you shot back.

“Ouch.” he clutched his chest, faking a wince. “You look angry.”

“Oh, do I?” your voice dripped with sarcasm. “That’s because I am.”

Lucky for him, the corridor was empty—just the theater crew lingering in the distance.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you demanded.

“Gonna need you to be more specific.”

You inhaled sharply. “Seriously? Sound design? You don’t even like theater.”

He took a step closer, brows furrowing.

“How would you know? We’re not friends.” the way he said it was off—something about his tone made your stomach twist. But you ignored it. “And if you actually bothered to find out, you’d know that, shockingly, I do this for real.”

You hated being proven wrong. But you especially hated being proven wrong by Bangchan.

“Look,” you sighed, arms crossing. “I don’t know what your game is, okay? But just… don’t mess things up. I like them the way they are.”

Bangchan nodded, slow and deliberate. But something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable. His stomach clenched, and he didn’t like the reason why. Because the way you said it, like having him here without sex was some kind of inconvenience, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” his voice dropped an octave, sharp and cold. He met your gaze head-on, not an ounce of warmth left. “The world doesn’t revolve around you.”

And just like a punch to the gut left hanging in the air, he was gone. No rush, no glance back—just the weight of his words lingering between you.

Things were a mess, and you needed to get a grip. Studying, focusing—doing something that wasn’t theater or… well, him. The last few days had blurred together, your attention split in ways you weren’t used to. And you hated it.

The library was too quiet, the kind of silence that crawled under your skin. Three art history books sat open in front of you, mocking your lack of focus. It was ridiculous. How the hell had you let some guy scramble your brain like this? That wasn’t you. It had never been you.

Frustration boiled over, and before you knew it, you snapped one of the books shut, the sharp thud cutting through the silence.

“Jesus. What did the book ever do to you?”

The voice came from behind you, smooth and amused. You barely looked up before Mingyu’s face came into view. It hit you then—how distracted you’d been at the fundraiser. Otherwise, you definitely would have noticed him before. That annoyingly charming, white-knight smile. Tanned skin. Muscles for days.

He grinned, leaning over your table, arms flexing just enough to be intentional.

“Sorry. My head's a mess.”

Mingyu nodded, taking in your exasperated, borderline fried expression. “Yeah, you look like it,” he said with a knowing half-smile, sliding into the empty chair across from you like he belonged there. No permission needed.

You sighed, gesturing vaguely at the books. “Just trying to focus.”

His smirk deepened. “Right. Because nothing says laser focus like slamming a textbook shut like it just insulted your mother.”

You huffed, but the corner of your mouth twitched.

“Well, since you’re clearly on the verge of a breakdown, I have an idea.” He leaned back, stretching in a way that was both casual and strategic. “A coffee. On me.”

You opened your mouth to answer, but your phone vibrated against the table, barely visible beneath the stack of books. A quick glance at the screen. One new message.

Bangchan: my dorm. 30 min.

Your pulse jumped. Short. Direct. No room for misinterpretation.

“Everything okay?” Mingyu’s voice pulled you back, his eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, yeah.” you laughed, maybe too lightly. “Just… distracted. Coffee sounds good.”

His grin widened. “Perfect. Let’s go.”

“Just let me put this back…” you grabbed one of the books, heading for the shelf when your phone buzzed again.

Bangchan: ignoring me?

You exhaled, fingers hovering over the screen.

You: I can't. I have plans.

A pause. Then—

Bangchan: ok.

You pressed your forehead against the bookshelf, inhaling deeply, willing away the strange tightness in your stomach. It was ridiculous. It was just a text.

When you returned, Mingyu was still at the table, casually texting someone. He looked up as you approached, grinning. “Everything good?”

“Yeah.” you nodded, forcing a smile.

He was nice enough to grab your bag and help carry your notebooks, the easy charm of someone who had probably been effortlessly handsome his whole life. The café wasn’t far—just a short walk from campus—but the crowd made it feel like the busiest spot in town.

Mingyu picked a table near the entrance, the air thick with the smell of espresso and fresh pastries. Strawberry sponge cake. Cinnamon rolls. Chocolate mousse cupcakes. The kind of place that made you want to abandon all responsibilities and drown yourself in sugar.

And yet, as you sat down, all you could think about was the ok.

Mingyu ordered coffee for you both but went the extra mile, adding a slice of strawberry shortcake to share.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.” you smiled, wrapping your hands around your cup, already feeling the caffeine seep into your system like a lifeline.

He shrugged. “I wanted to. You looked like you needed something sweet.”

You caught the double meaning but let it slide. He was being nice, and you weren’t in the mood to overanalyze. “Right. So… football?” Smooth. Real smooth.

Mingyu didn’t seem to mind. “Going well. We’re set for the next game, and if we keep this up, the next university sponsorship should be ours.”

“That’s great, Mingyu.”

“Yeah, but I heard drama class was saved. Good news, huh?”

“Great news. We’ve got enough for now.” you took a bite of cake, letting the sugar melt on your tongue. Mingyu watched you, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“I’m happy for you. Getting the basketball team to sell brownies half-naked must’ve been a real passion project.”

You laughed. “It was, but that wasn’t me. That was Bangchan.”

It felt strange, saying his name out loud. Different when he wasn’t there.

Mingyu frowned, arms crossing over the table.

“Bangchan did that?” his brows knitted together, skepticism lacing his tone.

You shrugged, taking another bite of cake. “That’s what I heard. Why? You guys friends?” the idea alone made your stomach twist in an oddly unpleasant way.

“No. Not even close.” he laughed, shaking his head as if the thought was ridiculous. “Just curious.”

“Well, instead of wasting brain cells on him, you should try this.” you pushed the plate slightly toward him. “It’s actually amazing.”

Mingyu picked up a fork, took a bite, and let out an appreciative groan. You grinned, clapping your hands as if you had just won a bet, then promptly stole another piece for yourself.

Being with him was easy—effortless, even. A surprising friendship you hadn't expected but didn’t mind one bit.

Back at the dorm, Eunji and Sohee were curled up on the couch, sharing a bucket of popcorn while a movie played on the laptop. Your casual entrance was met with two pairs of curious eyes locking onto you like detectives sniffing out a case.

“Where have you been?” Eunji narrowed her eyes, her fingers pausing mid-popcorn grab.

“Why?” you laughed, kicking off your shoes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” she accused, tilting her head. “Always busy, barely around.”

“Sorry, I... I've just been very busy. The theater is eating me up. And there's the exams...”

Sohee smirked. “Why do you smell like coffee?”

“What?” you instinctively sniffed your shirt, the rich aroma of espresso lingering faintly.

Eunji gasped, scandalized. “You totally went out with someone!”

Sohee just shook her head knowingly, already seeing through you. “Liar.”

“Alright, fine! I got coffee with Mingyu. Happy now?”

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sohee’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “Mingyu from the soccer team?”

Eunji, on the other hand, nearly leaped off the couch. “Girl, you rocked it! I knew you had game, but Mingyu? That man is fine.”

You groaned, already regretting your life choices. “It wasn’t a thing, okay? We’re friends. We had coffee. That’s it.”

Eunji scoffed, dramatic as ever. “Honey, nothing with Mingyu is just coffee. That man doesn’t do casual.” she clasped her hands together like she was already planning your wedding.

You sighed, exasperated. “Make her stop.” you turned to Sohee, your last hope.

But Sohee just smirked. “I mean… she’s not wrong.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “Oh my God.”

“Look, you’ve been drowning in rehearsals and exams. Maybe this is a good thing,” Sohee added, ever the voice of reason.

A good thing. That uneasy feeling crawled up your spine again.

Because the problem wasn’t Mingyu.

Because you had met someone. Someone who already occupied every corner of your mind. Someone who texted you with demands instead of invitations. Someone who kissed like it was the only language he spoke.

And that someone sure as hell wasn’t Mingyu.

“Alright, I’m done.” you grabbed your things and stood up. “I’m taking a shower. Goodnight.”

Before they could say another word, you ducked into your room, shutting the door behind you.

Now, if only you could shut off your thoughts just as easily.

It was lunchtime, and the table was buzzing with chatter. It had been nearly two days since you’d heard from Bangchan. Odd, right? The silence felt almost intentional. No texts, no glances that said too much.

You were sharing a basket of French fries with Hyunjin when suddenly, that topic came up. Jisung was DJing at another party this weekend, and everyone was planning to go. Of course, Eunji—bless her heart and big mouth—decided now was the time to bring up the perfect subject.

“You should invite Mingyu, now that you’re going out and all.”

You nearly choked on a fry, coughing like you’d just inhaled a cloud of smoke. Hyunjin slapped your back, but you could feel all eyes on you as the table went silent, then turned to look in your direction.

Bangchan, seated across from you, slouched in his chair like he didn’t care. But you knew better. The tension radiating from him was like a ticking time bomb.

“You’re seeing Mingyu?” Hyunjin’s voice dripped with mock disbelief. “How am I your best friend, and this is news to me?”

Great. Just great. The whole table was waiting for an answer, and suddenly, everything felt like it was about to spiral out of control.

“Going out with Mingyu? Really?” Changbin raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “I thought you had better taste, bro.”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not dating anyone!” you shot back, finally managing to catch your breath after the shock of the conversation.

“Sure, sure. But you two went out the other day, didn’t you?” Eunji grinned, clearly enjoying every second of it.

You felt it before you saw it: Bangchan’s eyes, burning into the side of your head. His silence wasn’t just a void, it was a warning, sharp and heavy. You should’ve felt guilty—after all, you had brushed him aside for Mingyu.

“But we’re not together,” you quickly clarified, hoping to quell whatever storm was brewing behind his eyes. “And he’s practically at every party anyway. It’s not like he’s not going to show up.”

Eunji wasn’t buying it. “Still should invite him, though.”

Hyunjin tossed an arm around your shoulders, all casual but still sorta protective. “Alright, stop messing with my girl,” he said, voice light but you could tell he wasn’t having it.

You muttered a quick ‘thank you,’ relieved when the focus shifted away from you. Your thoughts drifted as you nibbled on the end of your fry, mind half on your food, half on the tension buzzing at the table.

Bangchan, though, wasn't as distracted. He sat there, twisting his tongue inside his cheek, fighting off the surge of frustration coiling in his gut. The thought of you with Mingyu? It hit him like a wrecking ball. Not just because you had ditched him for the guy, but Mingyu.

He could hardly keep his anger in check. Only his closest friends knew the history between the two of them—and no one, especially not you, would ever guess how deep that hatred ran.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Without a word, he stood, breaking the rhythm of the conversation.

“Leaving already?” Changbin asked, raising an eyebrow. Lunch still had half an hour left, but Bangchan didn’t seem to care.

“Yeah, gotta handle something,” he muttered, his voice sharp enough to make everyone shut up for a second.

The group barely noticed his departure. You certainly didn’t. After all, it wasn’t like anything was out of the ordinary. Right?

The days were flying by, and with every one that passed, the auditions loomed closer. The lineup was finally set—each student would perform next Friday, the day before Jisung’s party. No pressure or anything. Your nerves were on high alert, and anxiety was practically gnawing at your bones.

And then there was Bangchan. Or rather, the lack of him. You hadn’t heard a word from him in days. During the rare times you actually sat with the guys for lunch, his seat was just... empty. And you pretended not to care, stealing quick glances and keeping your mouth shut.

Most of your free time was spent holed up in the library, pretending to study, or locked in your room, trying to convince yourself that, yes, you could totally make it through the semester without crumbling under stress. Mingyu had texted you a few times, but you’d dodged his messages so hard that even you felt guilty about it.

Not that he seemed to care. The guy was persistent. He still wanted to take you out, get to know you, charm his way into... whatever he was aiming for. Just today, he’d invited you to join him and the soccer team at some bar near campus. Apparently, they were celebrating a big win—not that you had a single clue who they even played against.

You needed to get out. Desperately. But showing up solo to a team hangout? That was a level of confidence even you didn’t have. So, naturally, you did what any sane person would—you called your emergency contact.

Hyunjin picked up before the second ring.

“Well, well, look who finally decided to return from the dead,” he drawled.

“Yeah, yeah. Roast me later. Right now, I need a favor.”

“Hm. Depends.”

“There’ll be drinks,” you baited, already knowing his answer.

He sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if I go, you have to give me the full rundown on whatever mess you’ve got going on with Mingyu.”

You exhaled sharply, tilting your head back like the universe was punishing you. “Ugh. Deal.”

Satisfied, you threw on a black fit—strappy top, skirt, boots, plus a long-sleeved cardigan for balance—and grabbed your phone to text Hyunjin.

And that’s when you saw him.

Bangchan.

Walking toward his dorm, jacket slung over his shoulder, bag in one hand. The second he spotted you, it was like his brain hit a hard reset. Blue screen. No thoughts, just you.

You, on the other hand? You just…froze. Phone still hovering mid-air like you were trying to signal the mothership.

He looked good, annoyingly so—tired, sure, but with that effortlessly undone look that made you want to fix things that weren’t even broken. And judging by the way his jaw tightened ever so slightly, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to see you looking this good either.

You could practically hear the battle happening in his head. Logic telling him to keep walking. Instinct screaming at him to drag you somewhere private and remind you exactly why you shouldn’t be ignoring him.

But no. Neither of you moved. Just standing there, locked in some ridiculous silent standoff from across the way.

That is, until a hand brushed against yours.

“Took you long enough,” Hyunjin teased, but his voice trailed off the second he noticed who had stolen your attention. His steps slowed, eyes flicking between you and Bangchan like he’d just walked into the middle of a soap opera.

You bit back a smirk, shoving down the weird twist in your stomach. “Shall we?”

Hyunjin hesitated, still piecing things together. Then, with a last glance at Bangchan—who looked like he was about two seconds away from saying something he’d regret—he sighed.

“Yeah,” he muttered, brows still furrowed. “Let’s go.”

The moment you step into the bar, Mingyu zeroes in on you like a man on a mission—half-drunk, half-thrilled, and entirely shameless about how his gaze drags over you. He grins, tells you how gorgeous you look, and hands you a shot of soju like it’s a requirement for entry.

Hyunjin, of course, fits right in immediately, the social butterfly that he is. Meanwhile, you start to relax, the initial nerves fading as the drinks flow and the unfamiliar space becomes less intimidating. Mingyu’s friends are nice—too nice. The kind of nice that feels like they're sizing you up, like you’re some kind of prize waiting to be claimed. Mingyu’s prize.

The room is loud, buzzing with alcohol-fueled laughter and drunken debates, but your thoughts are fixated on something else. Someone else. And damn it, Mingyu is right there, flashing that easy smile, brushing his fingers against yours like it’s an accident every single time. Complimenting you in ways that should make your stomach flip.

But all you can think about is the guy who hasn’t spoken to you in days. The one who supposedly doesn’t want you anymore.

Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

With a frustrated sigh, you push back your chair and stand. You’re not even tipsy, but everything suddenly feels too hot, too suffocating.

“I need water,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else, and head for the bar before you do something stupid.

Mingyu appeared at your side, leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world.

"All good?"

You forced a smile, gripping the cool glass of water like it could ground you. "Yeah. Just needed something cold."

"Glad you came," he said, smirking slightly as he looked down at you.

He’s the one you should want, the one who actually wants you.

Your gaze flickered to his lips. A bad idea waiting to happen.

Mingyu caught the hesitation, eyes darkening as he glanced between your lips and your eyes. You barely had time to register what was happening before your hands found his shoulders, his lips pressing against yours.

The guys erupted in cheers, their drunken approval ringing out across the bar.

And after that, a blur of stolen kisses, too much soju, and voices too loud to ignore.

The night air was crisp against your flushed skin as you and Hyunjin walked back toward campus. The distant hum of the city buzzed in your ears, the alcohol still warm in your veins, though the high of the night had started to fade. Your heels clicked against the pavement, and Hyunjin, ever the gentleman, walked just a step closer in case you stumbled.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you lightly with his elbow.

You hummed a response, not trusting yourself to say anything else. Your mind was a tangled mess of soju, Mingyu’s lips, and something deeper—something you weren’t ready to admit.

Hyunjin let the silence settle for a moment before he spoke again. “If I ask you something, will you be honest with me?”

You sighed, already bracing yourself. Here it comes. “If it’s about Mingyu, I—”

“It’s not.” he cut you off, tone softer than before. “It’s about Bangchan.”

Your stomach twisted.

You stopped walking, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. Your hands fidgeted, grasping for something—anything—to ground you. “Why would you ask that?” you muttered, trying to play it off, but even you could hear the slight tremble in your voice.

Hyunjin tilted his head, studying you. “I figured it all out.”

A sharp inhale stung your chest, and before you could even think of a response, it hit you. The overwhelming, suffocating weight of everything you’d been trying to bury. The frustration, the confusion, the way he made you feel like you were something and nothing all at once.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin muttered, eyes widening as the tears spilled over. “Come here.”

He pulled you into his chest, letting you press your face into his shoulder. You clung to his jacket, shaking as silent sobs wracked through you. Half-drunk, half-heartbroken, you let yourself break in the only safe place you had at that moment—Hyunjin’s arms.

“I don’t— I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” you mumbled against the fabric of his hoodie, voice barely above a whisper.

Hyunjin sighed, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s okay. Just breathe.”

But it wasn’t okay. None of it was.

After a few minutes, he gently pulled away and wordlessly handed you a bottle of water he’d bought from a vending machine nearby. You took it with shaky hands, gulping down the cool liquid as if it could wash away the lump in your throat.

As you wiped your eyes, Hyunjin leaned against the streetlamp, watching you carefully. “Talk to me. What’s going on with you and Bangchan?”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “I wish I knew.”

He raised an eyebrow, waiting.

With a deep, shaky breath, you finally let it spill. “It started as something casual. No expectations.” your fingers tightened around the water bottle. “But then he started pulling away. And I don’t know if it’s because he got bored, or if I did something wrong, or if this was always the plan. I don’t even know if I want more, but the fact that I’m this messed up over it?” you scoffed, blinking back fresh tears. “That has to mean something, right?”

Hyunjin exhaled, his gaze thoughtful. “Damn.”

You let out a wet laugh. “That’s all you got?”

“I mean, what do you want me to say? That doesn’t sound casual to me.”

Your stomach twisted. You knew that. You knew that. But hearing it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for.

You swallowed hard, voice small. “I got myself into this mess. I was the one who asked him to keep it a secret.”

Hyunjin frowned, his posture shifting. “Why?”

“Because I was scared,” you admitted, the words raw in your throat. “Scared of what people would say. Scared of the judgment. You know how it is—girls get torn apart for way less. And I worked too hard, cared too much to be reduced to just that girl who’s hooking up with Bangchan.” you laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “And now? Now I don’t even know how to deal with it. Because I was supposed to hate him, Hyunjin.”

Hyunjin was quiet for a moment, his usual teasing gone. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But you also don’t have to go through this alone.”

Your throat tightened. “I feel like an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot.” he bumped his shoulder against yours. “You’re just in deep.”

You exhaled shakily, leaning into his warmth as you both started walking again.

“Look, I don’t have the answers. But I do know you’re not crazy for feeling this way.” he squeezed your shoulder. “And if he’s too much of an idiot to see what he has, then maybe you should let him be the one losing sleep over it.”

You sniffled, managing a weak smile. “You’re my soulmate, Hyun.”

“Damn right I am,” he said, flashing you a grin. “Now drink your water before you pass out, drama queen.”

You laughed—actually laughed—and for the first time that night, the weight on your chest felt just a little bit lighter.

The day had finally arrived. Showtime. No matter how many times you’d done this, stepping on stage always felt like a first-time, heart-in-your-throat kind of thing.

Up in the audience, Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Sohee were posted a few rows above Mrs. Baek, waiting for you to do your thing. No pressure.

Backstage was quiet—eerily so. You sat there, taking slow, deep breaths, wiping your sweaty palms against your thighs like a seasoned pro in pre-show anxiety management. You were next. Three minutes. One shot. No room for mediocrity.

You’d chosen a song that wasn’t just sentimental—it was a statement. A vocal rollercoaster that climbed from deep, rich lows to a falsetto so clean it could cut glass. If you were going to go down, at least you’d do it swinging.

Reaching into your bag for your water bottle, you were mid-sip when movement in the distance caught your attention.

And just like that, reality glitched. Bangchan.

It was almost ridiculous how unreal he looked, like a mirage conjured from some fever dream. You hadn’t seen him in days, and yet here he was, strolling in like he hadn’t been living rent-free in your mind this whole damn time.

Laptop in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard, looking every bit the sound tech genius he was. You hadn’t expected him to actually show up for this gig, but—oh, look—there he was, punching buttons like he was defusing a bomb.

Then, he saw you. And something shifted.

His fingers stilled, tightening around the laptop.

The air was heavy. The tension was palpable. Whatever was going on between you two didn’t need words—it was written in every sharp breath, every stolen glance.

And just like that, your pre-show jitters had a new contender.

"Hi," you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Bangchan gave you a small, polite smile—too polite. Something about it felt off. The usual spark in his eyes? Gone. And that was all it took for reality to sink in.

So that’s it, huh?

The game was over. You had your answer. He was done, and honestly? You couldn’t even be mad—because weren’t you just as much to blame?

Mrs. Baek’s voice cut through the buzzing in your head, thanking the student who had just finished performing. You’re next.

You turned away from Bangchan, unscrewed your water bottle, and took a long sip, willing yourself to focus. Breathe. Lock in. You’ve got this.

Then it happened. A warm touch on your waist—his touch.

Your body betrayed you instantly, heat rippling through your skin like a live wire. It had been days, and yet, all it took was this—a single touch—to remind you how much you’d missed him.

You spun around, frowning, swallowing hard as your gaze locked onto his.

Bangchan didn’t back down. If anything, he doubled down.

His arm lifted, caging you in the small space between you and the backstage wall, pulling your bodies so close it was downright insane. His head tilted slightly, studying you, reading every little reaction like he already knew the ending to this story.

Without warning, Bangchan crashed his lips onto yours, his free hand gripping your waist like he had no plans of letting go. His palm slid up your back, fingers teasing under the hem of your shirt, branding heat into your skin.

You barely had time to process before his tongue was in your mouth, claiming, demanding—like he was making up for every second of distance between you.

A sound slipped past your lips—a mix between a sigh and a moan, involuntary, unstoppable.

God, you hated how easily he unraveled you. And worse? You loved it too.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his sweatshirt, yanking him closer—like you needed him just a little closer, just a little longer. Your lips moved in sync, deepening the moment, drowning out everything else.

Then—

Mrs. Baek’s voice rang through the backstage, shouting your name.

Then reality crashed back in.

But instead of nerves clawing at your stomach, instead of the suffocating pressure you’d felt moments ago, there was something lighter—something electric. Like a field of wildflowers blooming where anxiety used to sit.

You pulled back, panting, heart racing, but this time? You were smiling. Bangchan, just as breathless, leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

"Break a leg," he murmured.

And just like that, you knew you would.

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iamyourdailydoseofbi · 1 day ago

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MAY THIS KIND OF LOVE NEVER FIND ME. ( HOTD! MODERN AU! X READER )

AUTHOR NOTE! Back to posting for a short time cuz I go back to full time college in a week. <3 pairing: Modern AU! Aegon Targaryen x Reader prompt : based on the trend of 'may this love / kind of love never find me' trend on tiktok, where Aegon is determined to make your relationship the opposite of the trend. word count: 1, 000+ words

Aegon had never been the best of boyfriend’s, he was well aware of that. He would often forget important dates, anniversaries⎯being the worst. Or the names of the women he dated, earning him a hefty amount of slaps and curses. He could be brash, too much to the point where it was no longer charming. He could be temperamental, jealous, and admittedly a spoiled brat.

He’d like to think the concoction that was his childhood, with sprinkles of generational trauma added for ‘spice’, made him that way. But, he at least attempted with you, which was more than he could say about previous relationships. Key word on attempted to be the best boyfriend that he could be.

He had once brought you flowers, though they were crushed from stupidly sitting on them. Or the time that he took care of you after your wisdom teeth removal, where he had smacked you in the face with the apartment door. Or the other time where he had tried to be romantic and carry you bridal style, only to smash his toe in the corner of the couch and drop you on the floor. The attempt was there, really, he just sucked at his execution of it.

Chewing on his bottom lip, Aegon scrolled through the photos of some random couple on social media, reading the caption. ‘Yeah, he doesn’t help me with the kids. But, it’s not that big of a deal.’, along with cheesy hashtags for ‘true love’ and ‘true marriage’. Wrinkling his nose up at it, he clicks on the comments, seeing a flood of ‘red flag alert’ and ‘leave him, girl’. Seeing another post linked to it, he clicks on it, unable to resist the urge to look into some else's relationship. After all, they were the ones airing it all out, it wasn’t his fault if he looked.

Seeing another couple posing in cheesy photos, the caption once again airing out a little too much of their business, ‘He doesn’t help around the house, like ever. But, that’s what I like. It’s totally fine, so no hate comments about him, please.❤️’ Scrolling through each comment he could see, he pauses on the most liked, ‘May this kind of love never find me’. His gut churns in a way that he doesn’t like. Okay, that one kinda hit a little too close to home. He didn’t really help a lot around the apartment, but it’s because you liked things to be done a certain way.

“No, Aegon, just let me do this⎯” You protest, visibly wincing at the way he dusted the bookshelf.

“Why? I wanna help. I’m not incompetent, babe.” He argues, wiping away specs of dust.

“No, no, just stop.” You snatch the dust rag from his hand, “I just⎯I just like theses kind of things to be done a certain way. Just leave it alone.”

Clicking onto the audio attached to the pictures, he falls into a rabbit hole of posts, a hashtag attached. ‘#May this kind of love never find me’. Each post spouts out relationship dramas and ‘icks’, from leaving the toilet seat up at night to not doing anything for their partners on birthdays and anniversaries.

Then, there were the video’s. Some of them from couples, others from fanart of book series, and some from couples from TV Shows and Movies. His gut churns more and more as they point out faults that were a little too close to his own. The top comments are always the same in one way or another, ‘may this kind of love never find me’.

“Aegon?” You call, snapping him out of his daze.

“Oh, yeah, um, hey!” He forces a smile, turning off his phone.

“Are you okay? You look like a kicked puppy.” You raise a brow, poking your head out from the hallway closet.

“Yeah, yeah, just my football team lost and now I gotta deal with some shit in my fantasy football league. Move some players around and try to trade others, you know?” He lies, trying to make you uninterested as possible to drop the subject.

“Um, not my expertise. But, um, hopefully, it all turns out well for your team.” You offer a soft smile, “I guess?”

Faltering at your words, he stiffly nods his head in agreement, watching as you fill another cardboard box with clutter from the closet. He could see the specs of old warped pieces of newspaper and a broken vase peek out from the top. Licking his chapped lips, he shifts on the couch, turning his open on and off. The home screen pops up, showing a photo of you and him, posed in cheesy 80s inspired sweaters. Turning his phone off for good, he watches you pick up the box, softly closing the closet door shut with your hip.

“So, um, what are you going to do with that stuff?” He

“Oh, most of it is broken junk, so trash. But, I do wanna go to the basement storage and see what else is broken to throw out. We can use the empty space in the apartment, you know?” You explain, giving the cardboard box a soft shake to motion to the junk inside.

“Oh, cool.” He nods, not really paying too much attention to your words.

“Yeah, if you're not too busy with your fantasy football stuff, you can see what else is broken in the apartment and bring it downstairs with me.” You smile, offering him the chance to join.

“Oh, yeah, um, sure.” He hums, not in the least bit interested in the idea of doing spring cleaning.

Looking down at his lap, he clicks the power button on his phone, the home screen popping back up again. He stares at your face, a hint of a pout curling at his lips. His mind kept wandering back to those posts, the captions and comments about how horrible the relationships sounded.

What if you felt the same way that those people in the comments felt about your relationship? Would you dump him? No, you should dump him. Just like those comments said in other posts. Watching as the screen goes black and his phone turns off, he knew that he should talk to you about it, after all, communication was something you wanted more of on his end.

“You don’t have to, Aegon.” You sigh, putting the box down on the coffee table.

“No, I’ll come down, just gonna take my time to look at my stuff.” He shakes his head, “I’m sure I’ve got some junk in there.”

‘He doesn’t help around the house. But, he can’t help it.’

‘He just forgets things a lot of the time, not stuff he likes, but stuff that I like or I consider kinda important.’

‘He doesn’t like when I wear revealing stuff. It’s not really his fault, it’s mine.’

‘He tends to get jealous really quickly, so I stopped hanging out with my friends.’

It kept on spiraling in his head, those captions that he swore he had heard you complain about at least once in your relationship. Or was he just being paranoid now? Were his thoughts just spiraling so much that he couldn’t tell what was real and what was just the influence of social media? Or had you truly said those things to him and he had ignored them?

Chewing on his bottom lip until he tasted blood, he turned on his phone one last time, just staring at the home screen. Seeing the time, he lets out a sigh, deciding now was the time to stop sulking and help you downstairs. Throwing his phone carelessly onto the coffee table, it smacks the lamp, sending it falling onto the rug.

Bang.

“Aw, fuck!” He curses, scrambling to pick up the pieces of the now broken lamp.

The vase bottom was now cracked down the center, still held together miraculously, but cracked enough to ruin the aesthetic of it. Maybe he could fix it? Add some gold paint over the crack like in those art posts you liked on social media. Say it was a craft or something, right? Wincing softly at the damage, he turns the lamp on, the bulb letting out a loud crackling before popping. Nevermind.

“Fuck my life.” He grumbles, pissed he had ruined your lamp.

Running his hands through his hair, he looks for the cardboard box, hoping to hide the evidence of your massacred lamp under the other junk. Not seeing it, he grumbles as he realizes you took the box downstairs with you. Great, he was gonna have to explain what happened. Chewing on his bottom lip, he saunters into the kitchen, hoping to find some kind of sweets to sweeten you up with. Finding some slightly stale biscuits in the pantry, he puts them on a paper plate, snatching the old container to throw away along with it.

Forcing himself to act casual, he walks down the stairs, heading to the basement. Seeing you throwing away some moth eaten christmas decoration, he tenses up, feeling like a guilty dog. You were gonna be mad. He just knew it, and it was gonna be like those comments on those couple posts. Stepping on the bottom step, it squeaks loudly under his weight, announcing his presence in the basement.

“Babe?” You turn around, cracking a half surprised smile at the sight of him.

“I got you something to eat, cause you were working up a sweat cleaning and all that.” He shoves the plate into your hand, hiding the lamp behind his back.

“Aw, thanks.” You smile, furrowing your brows slightly as he tucks his hands suspiciously behind his back.

“So, um, you’re really pretty, you know that right?” He blurts out, attempting to distract you.

“Um, thanks, I guess?”

“Yeah, and you’re really funny. Like, the best kind of funny, you know?” He rambles on, attempting to smuggle the lamp in the cardboard box without you seeing.

Leaning to the left, you furrow your brows at him, leaning to the left with him. Tilting your head to the side, he swore that you knew and were just torturing him. Or was he just being super paranoid now? Sweating slightly at your stare, he pulls you abruptly into a hug, tightly pulling you against his chest with his free hand. Forcing your head into the crook of his neck, he shoves the broken lamp into the box, it clanging with the other junk inside. Letting out a soft sigh, he lets you go, watching you stare at him like he had another head.

“Aegon?” You ask, a hint of suspicion in your tone.

“Yeah, sweetie?” He chuckles, trying to act as if he was not just having a mini heart attack just moments ago.

“Is that my lamp?” You push him aside, pointing to the lamp in the box.

“Um, no..?”

“No, that is my lamp.” You argue, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Pff! It’s like totally not your lamp, you're just seeing things!” He weakly chuckles, sweating.

“Are you calling me crazy?” You scoff, unamused by his incriminating behavior.

“Yes..?” He asks unsure, “No? Um, like in a sexy way?”

#house of the dragon #house of dragons #aegon ii targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon x reader #house of dragons x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #hotd imagines #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon x reader

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mrsshabana · 2 days ago

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♡ 𝐇𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲 ♡ 𝐄𝐦𝐨!𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ♡

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Emo!Gyutaro x female!reader, modern au, college au, fluff ꒦꒷‧₊ Note 1.5k words. Sorry I'm posting this so late, I had almost no time to write it so it's very rushed. But I wanted to give everyone something to read today even though it's short. Happy Valentine's Day!

God, did Gyutaro hate Valentine's Day.

Everything about it disgusted him. From the bright colors and sweet smells to the mushy feelings and love confessions. Thinking about the horrid day made him gag.

It didn't make sense to him. Half of these people who celebrate Valentine's Day together will be broken up before the year ends. So what's the point? Haven't they learned yet that love is a facade that only ends in a broken heart?

Maybe that's the emo in him speaking, but can you blame the boy for feeling that way?

His heart has never beat for another. To be honest, most people would be convinced that his heart doesn't beat at all. From his never-ending brooding attitude and his overtly emo attire.

Love isn't something he often thinks about. But deep down he does fantasize about having someone to love, especially around this time of year. That's why you'll rarely see him leave his dorm during February, except for attending mandatory classes of course.

Seeing all of these couples holding hands and being all lovey-dovey, a part of him yearns for it. Sure they are probably inevitably destined to end in heartbreak. But sometimes he wonders if experiencing love is worth the heartache. Maybe that's why people always come back each year to celebrate this dreaded holiday.

By now he's pretty convinced that love wasn't meant for him so he does whatever he can to drown everything out. Because there's no way in hell a girl would ever take interest in him, so it's better to just avoid them all.

When Valentine's Day finally comes Gyutaro begrudgingly leaves his dorm. But not before he puts on the heaviest, most anti-normal person emo garb that he has. Of course, he has his usual graphic tee, skinny jeans, and black jacket with the sleeves rolled up. But today he makes sure to put the black eyeliner on heavy and wear spiked bands around his wrists. The combat boots and metal chain on his hip top the look off.

He hopes this will be enough to deter anyone from speaking to him today. He only has two classes so as long as he can get through that then he'll be fine. Steering clear of any painfully romantic couples canoodling all throughout campus.

The day goes by longer than it should, but eventually, he gets through his classes.

Though he can't shake this heavy feeling inside of his chest. He tries to ignore it but as he saw more and more reminders of what today symbolizes the feeling only got stronger and stronger.

"Why am I feeling this way...?" he mumbles to himself as he clutches his chest. Inexplicably his eyes begin to water as the feeling worsens.

Panicked and annoyed, Gyutaro quickly leaves the building and walks towards one of his favorite spots near campus, a small secluded creek surrounded by tall trees that make him feel like he's in another world. He has to trudge through some shrubs to get there, but he always goes here when he wants to be alone.

Sitting down on a fallen log and lighting a cigarette, Gyutaro sighs.

He doesn't want to admit it, but he does feel incredibly lonely. Sometimes he internally curses everyone who has things that he doesn't, especially when it comes to having a loving relationship. He knows he isn't the easiest guy to get along with so the relationship would probably go south anyways. But that doesn't stop him from yearning for it. All he wants is to be loved. Is that really so much to ask?

He closes his eyes and takes a drag of his cigarette, trying to shift his thoughts to anything else.

But he's quickly snapped out of it when he hears a twig snap behind him.

"Shit," he mutters and puts out his cigarette. Did someone follow him? Maybe it's just an animal...

"Hello?" he shouts, hoping that it is indeed just an animal and not a couple that wanted to sneak away together.

"Erm... hi, um... sorry to bother you," you say with a shaky voice as you emerge from the trees.

"Y/N?" his eyes widen as he recognizes you as one of the girls in his art class. Honestly, he only remembered your name because he thought you were really cute. Not to mention sweet too. You haven't talked to him much, but the few times you did you were always abnormally kind to him. Something he wasn't used to from people.

"Yeah, sorry I um," you stutter not sure what to say as you realize how weird it would be to tell him that you followed him out here.

"What're you doin' here?" he raises a brow.

"I-I wanted to give you this!" you shout, your nerves getting the best of you as you force yourself to just spit it out already, "Happy Valentine's Day!" You swiftly hold out a velvet heart-shaped box.

"What..." he whispers in disbelief, "This for me?"

"Yes! I hope you like it," your entire face is red as you awkwardly hold the item, hoping he'll just take it already.

He narrows his eyes as if he doesn't believe you, but he takes the box anyway. Flipping it over, inspecting every detail, seeing his black painted nails shine as he moves his hand around the box. God do you love how he paints his nails.

"What is it?" he asks skeptically.

"It's a bomb," you respond.

His eyes widen as he stares back at you like you're a madwoman.

"Gyutaro, I'm joking!" you chuckle, lightening the mood, "Just open it already!"

He scoffs, holding back a laugh as he opens the velvet box. Inside are messily decorated chocolates in heart shapes.

"They taste better than they look, I promise..." you say sheepishly, hoping he won't hate them.

"Did you... actually make these?"

"Mm hm," you nod, "I tried to at least..."

He genuinely can't believe it. He doesn't even care that half of the chocolates look like turds, he's just touched that someone went out of their way to make something for them. Hell, he would have been happy if you just bought a box of chocolates from Walmart. But this? He never expected someone to do this for him.

"Are you trying to fuck with me?" he says in disbelief, his mind telling him that there's no way this isn't a joke or a cruel prank.

"W-Well um... maybe after a few dates..."

"... what?" his cheeks go red, "N-No! That wasn't what I meant- fuck um... never mind," he stutters, flustered by the thought that a pretty girl like you actually is considering having sex with him.

"Th-thank you," he spits out, "I love it." An awkward smile pulls on his lips, revealing his crooked teeth.

But it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

You've been crushing on him so hard ever since you met him this semester. He hasn't talked to you very much, but he doesn't seem unpleasant. Just quiet.

But when you happened to see him talking to his friends one day after class, you witnessed him smile for the very first time. And it was the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You wished that one day you could make the cute emo boy smile like that.

And you finally did. Even if he ends up rejecting you, you don't care. You made him smile and that was what you were really aiming for. A rare reaction you barely see cross his face.

But honestly, Gyutaro doesn't know how to react. He's awkward and shy and totally not used to interacting with people like this. Let alone cute girls.

In an attempt to show his desire to get closer to you, Gyutaro scoots over and pats the spot beside him, "Wanna join me?"

"S-Sure!" You say eagerly as you take a seat beside him.

Gyutaro leans back, staring up at the sky as he tries to process everything that's happening right now. But there's one question he can't get off his mind, "What made you wanna give this to me?"

"I think you're really cool..." you shyly admit as you fiddle with your fingers, not brave enough to look at him as you confess your feelings, "I like your style and I always wanted to get to know you better. But I never knew how."

He's internally kicking himself for making himself appear so unapproachable. Sure it kept the normies away like he wanted but it also kept cool people like you away that genuinely wanted to get to know him.

"Aw man... thanks. I think you're pretty cool too," he smiles, putting his hand on top of yours, "Maybe we can hang out sometime outside of class... I-If you want to."

"Of course! I'd love to," you beam excitedly, not only because he wants to hang out with you but also because he's touching you right now, "Y'know I um... I'm not doing anything tonight."

"Me neither," he blushes and turns to you, "Wanna come over? I have a sick record collection we could listen to."

"I'd love that, Gyutaro," you say, squeezing his hand. Just happy that you get to see the emo boy smile. But this won't be the last time, you'll be seeing that crooked smile of his a lot more after today.

#gyutaro #gyutaro shabana #gyuutarou #gyutaro x reader #gyutaro x y/n #gyuutarou x reader #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #valentines day

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themultifanshipper · 21 hours ago

Text

Pretty Girl

Warnings: reader can be any gender, Oscar gets fucked with a dildo, also feminizing him to filth, anal, fingering, excessive lube, cum stuff, spit

EOC Masterlist

“You want me to fuck this pretty pussy?”

Oscar whined into the pillows and you could see his cock leaking onto the sheets from where it was hanging between his spread thighs .

“S'not a pussy!” he gasped into the pillows.

“It's not? Then why is it so wet?”

Walking in on your teammate in lingerie was not something you ever expected to do. But you did, and that is how you found out he was very in touch with his feminine side.

And that led to a certain level of comfort around each other. And you learned that he liked wearing pretty lace, and skirts in his free time.

He thought you were going to hate him, or be disgusted, but you actually found yourself becoming incredibly horny whenever you thought about it.

Oscar in his apartment, wearing slutty little skirts.

So you'd made a habit of dropping by his apartment in the evenings, just to have a drink and decompress from the day's work and stress.

And then Oscar's skirts had gotten shorter, and the lace thinner, until he'd been forced to admit he wanted you.

You'd given in so easily it was pathetic.

But not more pathetic than the was he'd always just lay there and let you do absolutely anything you wanted with him.

Tonight, he had his ass up, and it was dripping with lube.

You'd fingered him to insanity and back, just to hear him beg. With enough lube to ensure it was dripping down his thighs and cock.

You learned quickly that you could be mean to Oscar, anything you did or said would just make him more desperate to be fucked.

He'd recently bought a dildo, and was begging you to use it on him.

“Go on Oscar, I want you to say it”

“Please fuck me!” he cried, hips wiggling impatiently.

You'd taken his panties off ages ago, but he still had a skirt on. It was pleated, and the front was covered in precome.

“You can do better than that, pretty girl” your finger trailed down his balls and along the vein on the underside of his cock, making him shiver.

“If you want me to stuff your pretty little cunt full you're going to have to ask for it”

“Please” he sniffled, drool and tears wetting the pillow he was grasping for dear life. “Please fuck my- my pussy…”

“Good girl, Osc” you praised, pressing the blunt head of the toy against his rim.

He moaned when it breached him, and he was so needy and wet you could pretty much shove it in in one thrust.

You angled it towards his prostate, and with the tremor that ran up his body you could tell he wasn't going to last long.

“Turn over baby, I want you to look at me when you come” you cooed, and Oscar complied, flopping onto his back and holding his own legs open for you.

He was being such a good girl it was hard to be mean.

The obscene sound of you pushing the dildo back inside was deafening.

“Listen, can you hear how wet your perfect little cunt is? So good for me baby”

He was shaking at the praise, cheeks red and embarrassed blush rapidly spreading over his chest as well.

Tonight wasn't one of those nights, but he loved to have his nipples played with, and clamped.

They were so sensitive, once you'd managed to make him come just with your mouth on them.

The way he was struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back told you he was going to come any second now.

You leaned down to wrap your lips around his tip and he wailed, cock pulsing as he shot rope after rope of cum into your mouth.

You slowed the movement of the toy, removing it gently and throwing it to the side.

Oscar panted while you crawled up his body and grabbed his jaw roughly.

“Open up” you ordered.

Oscar obeyed without question, opening his mouth and sticking his tongue out.

You spat his cum into his mouth, and he swallowed it all, moaning at the rough treatment.

“Good girl” you whispered, giving him a sweet peck on the forehead.

He shivered, cock twitching as you ran your fingers over his chest and accidentally brushed over a nipple.

Oscar was like a doll. One that you could dress up and play with to your heart’s content.

#oscar thots #EOC #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #f1 #formula 1

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sunrisecaminus · 2 days ago

Text

Ultra Magnus x Government Agent Reader SFW

Summary - Ultra Magnus falls in love with an human Agent after realizing she has a sweet side to her personality.

Warnings: Light Hurt/Comfort

Never have you ever thought you would be seeing real aliens when you first met the Autobots. Being one of the Agents from the US Government, you were assigned to see if Agent Fowler was doing his freaking job. That man has not gotten anything done to defeat the Decepticons that are trying to destroy the world. Now, you have been best friends with Fowler ever since college, but dang from what you have been hearing from your boss, he has been getting lazier and lazier. It was your job to see if he should be fired or not and get a replacement.

After a few months at the base, you have realized two things. One, the Autobots don't have enough recourses to even kill one Decepticon. Two, Fowler has been working his ass off for everyone to survive. Optimus was very kind to you when you arrived and introduced everyone to you. Ultra Magnus was professional, but you can tell he did not like your presence. The US government have been yelling at them about sitting on their afts, while also not providing anything for their survival. He has been warned by Fowler and Prime that humans don't understand what they were going through and so they will be very uncooperative if the bots even tried to explain themselves. "Prime sir, we should not be having anymore interference with these human leaders. Non of them have even came up once to listen to reason." He stared at Optimus with a pleading look, he didn't like to be similar to Ratchet, but he understood why Ratchet hated almost all humans. Optimus looked up from the data pad and gave him a stern look. "Ultra Magnus, I understand your lack of faith my friend, but you have to remember the humans that have helped us so far. Agent Fowler is one of the reasons we have not been kicked from this planet, the children have saved our lives, and Agent Y/n is here to help us get more supplies from the human's government if we give her reason that we are efficient enough."

Ultra Magnus hated that Optimus was right, but he was a bit suspicious of the last sentence. "I am sorry sir, but Agent y/n has not even once reported to the government in three month. I don't think we are up to her standards at all." Optimus closes his eyes to think. Magnus was right about that, you have not been really doing anything around the base except observe everyone's movements and work. Hell Ratchet has been quite annoyed by your presence since he has to stay at the base for most of the missions. He is holding on to you though, giving you hope. Only one person has been supportive of you, and that was Fowler. He told Optimus whole stories about you saving his sorry ass from college professors all the time. He told him many stories of you supporting him and even giving him a place to stay when he needed it the most. Fowler has said though you were a calculated person, and never really showed your emotions a lot. It was hard to tell if you are being nice or just straight cold. "We shall see Ultra Magnus, though I cannot confirm if she is as troubling as you say. I will talk to Agent Fowler once more, so please look over the kids."

When Optimus walked off, Magnus stayed around to make sure Miko wasn't going to prank Ratchet and helped Ralph with any questions he had about Cybertron. He than starts to hear the clicking of heels from the elevator. You had a clip board in hand and was already writing something down. Your h/c (hair color) hair looked all neat and your outfit seemed nice and custom made. Walking over to Ratchet, you ask for his latest findings from last night's mission and both of you started to talk about work. Honestly if Ratchet had a scale for which human was more annoying, you were probably around in the middle. He was able to keep a conversation with you, but from far away he would grumble about things he didn't like that you did. After a few minutes you walked over to Ralph and Ultra Magnus. You stood behind the couch and watched as Ralph was making a nice online form about his cultural findings. Of course, it wasn't public for other humans to see, but if he ever forgot about something he could always click over to his notes and see what he put down. "Ah, you are doing so well Ralph. Although you spells that wrong, the symbol you put down actually has a small line going across the bottom." You pointed out something on Ralph's computer and he gasps. "Oh crap! Your right! Dang I thought I studied that!" Magnus sees you smile for the first time. "Oh it's ok. It's impressive to see you learn so much already after only a week. Better than what I could do."

After you turn around, walking back to the railing from across the base to keep writing in your clip board, Magnus looks at Ralph confused. "What were you and Agent y/n talking about?" Ralph looks up at Magnus and shares his screen for him to see. "Oh? Y/n is teaching me how to read your alphabet! She knows a lot about Iaconian and helped me learn so I can surprise Optimus later! Don't tell him though." He couldn't believe what he was hearing. You knew Iaconian?! When did you have the time to learn such a difficult language?! Magnus couldn't help, but be flabbergasted by the fact you took the time to learn Iaconian and finally had enough. Did you like them or not? Why were you not reporting to your bosses and why haven't you left yet? You were only here to stay for a week…why haven't you left yet? He was getting to the bottom of it one way for another. He excuses himself and walks over to you. You see that a shadow surrounds your body and looks up. "Oh, good evening Ultra Magnus." You put your pen away and stood up straight to give your full attention to him. Magnus narrows his eyes and leans down just a smidge to be a bit closure to your frame. Look he may not like you, but at the very least he did not like intimidating people who are not Decepticons. "I need to speak with you Agent y/n. You have been keeping secrets from Prime and the rest of us, but now all of sudden you are learning Iaconian? What is your motivation?"

The smile that grew on your face made him a bit taken a back by the reaction. The smile looked nice on you, but he wasn't going to tell you that. "I have been monitoring everyone's work so I can give a long report to the government if they should give you their energon findings." WHAT?! The government had not only supplies, but they had the one resource they have been dying to get this whole time?! He clenched his hands into fists and looked angry. "You have energon is your procession? That stuff is useless for your species. Why didn't you report us being useful sooner. We could use those energon cubes to help give us more energy to fight for your planet." Before he could get even more angry, you put a hand up to shut him up. "Do not worry, I have already reported to them about you all working your hardest even with such little food. They needed a better report from me just in case you were pretending to be efficient for a week, so they have extended my stay for five months. At the end of my stay I will be in a very important meeting with all the higher ups to give my findings. Then they will happily give you all the crates they have by helicopter or by truck, just matters how much they are willing to give you." He could not believe this right now. This was the worse news he could get from you and he is trying not to go ape shit. "I understand this could be frustrating right now, but understand I am trying to poke them as much as I can to give you what you need. All of you have past the bar. In my book I would have given you everything by now after the first week. Right now I can't do anything but listen to their orders so you can be granted free supplies. Oh, and Optimus told me about where he lived back on Cybertron, I was curious about your culture so I had Bumblebee and Ralph help me learn. I am now known as one of the only human translators for Cybertronians and Humans. Luckily it seems you all already know English, though I would not have minded to be your spokes person."

This kind of made his anger fade…Your voice was not cold to him anymore. It seemed…sweet. This was the most care he has heard from you and it made him feel things he didn't want to feel. "W-well I appreciate you trying your best from what you have." Did he just stutter?! Oh Primus no, he needs to control himself. Why was he feeling such lovely feelings for you now?! He was just pissed a moment ago! You snapped him out of his staring and giggled. "Awe you are too kind. I need to go to Fowler now. I will see you before you all charge for the night, ok?" He nods and watches you leave. Your laugh was so cute. He needs to stop himself from feeling this way before he says something he is going to regret.

...

Bonus: Ratchet glares at Ultra Magnus while he scans him. "So a professional lady who works at the top has taken an interest in our species, her personality is a sweet yet serious person who gets the work done before she does anything else?" Sighing, Ratchet grabs his data pad and walks over to Ultra Magnus who looks at him for an answer to his condition. "You are not sick, you are just an idiot who fell in love with a fleshy."

#maccadam #tfp #transformers #transformers prime #transformers x reader #transformers x y/n #transformers x human #ultra magnus #ultra magnus x reader

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