#I still love Cad more

[carbonatedlight]

Favorite Player in CAD?

Player 4.

I’m not sure if you want me to give a reason why she’s my favorite. But if you do, she’s my fav because she’s funny ^_^

[elecman108]

I'd like to say I was drawing more this month, but tbh, with work on Outbreak and one of my coworkers getting sick (on top of going from good mental health at the beginning of the month to baaaad mental health towards the end) I really don't have much to show for it.

So here's my Shapeshifting Horny Fey Artist who's in an artistic slump going on adventures in the material plane and having existential crises... Or more likely, my man is memeing on himself.

[bueckets]

The Hit List | Part 1

Pairing: fuckgirl!Paige x Mechi Student!reader

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

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

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

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

WC: 11.2k

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

Chapter 1: The Unexpected Guest

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s literally ridiculous.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking hell. 

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

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

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

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

Yeeeaaah, definitely the messy one.

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

"Can you even fit anything in there?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tay, please—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy hell. Get a fucking grip.

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

Plan B it is.

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

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

You closed the door.

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah.

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

You better get an A on that fucking project.

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

Shit. How are you going to pull it out?

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

It's not budging.

In and out. Breathe.

You tugged again.

Something thudded against the floor.

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

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

She was smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

Taylor, I'm so sorry.

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

You needed your phone. Pronto.

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

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

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

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

FUCK.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"OH MY GOD! WHAT THE HELL!"

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

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

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

Oh.

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

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

"Why is Paige Bueckers in your bed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Stop fucking thinking about it.

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

"What's that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your head shot up. "How did you—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I can't—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

You froze mid-bite. "What girl?"

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

You choked on your croissant. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"By accusing me of stealing her phone?"

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

Your heart stuttered in your chest. "What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I did not—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then there she was.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was going to be a very long game.

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

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

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

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

"Time out, Huskies!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

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

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

"Thirty says you're delusional."

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

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

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

"Game! Huskies win!"

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

"Leaving so soon?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"By trying to crawl into her bed?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That was an accident—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn't a question.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were so beyond utterly fucked.

[charmcoindied]

verified palestinian fundraisers

several more families have reached out to me requesting that i share their campaigns, so i'm putting together another list for people to share! please consider donating to some of these gofundmes, and if you can't then i'd love it if you could share these links around.

@ahmad-syam-blog | vetted by bees and watermelons (#171) | $280 CAD of $40,000

ahmed and his family are trying to raise funds to evacuate gaza and to care for his daughter who was born during the current attacks on gaza.

@aseelo680 | vetted by 90-ghost | $6,753 of $20,000

aseel was on my last list, but her blog has been deleted multiple times. she is still seeking treatment for her sick mother and father.

@motaz225 | vetted by 90-ghost | 9,031 SEK of 250,000

motaz is a nurse from gaza trying to save his wife and three children from the genocide so he and his family can rebuild their lives.

@sameer-24 | verified by ana-bananya | $250 of 50,000

sameer has a family of 17 (9 adults and 8 children) trying to cross the border to egypt.

@malakabed | vetted by 90-ghost | €4,850 of €25,000

malak is a medical student who has lost a brother and seen other family members injured in the war. she is trying to raise money to help her family leave gaza and complete her education.

@emanfamily81 | vetted by 90-ghost | €3,848 of €38,000

eman is trying to help her husband, his father, and their four children leave gaza after losing their home and other members of their family.

@emanzaqoutt | vetted by 90-ghost | $17,650 CAD of $40,000

eman is a biotechnology specialist looking to pursue her phd, but she and her family are stuck in gaza due to the closed borders.

[mischiefmaker615]

Take Two

Summary: Somehow you find yourself facing 2 Loki's! but don't worry.. you're in safe hands..

Loki from the Thor films will be be Loki(OG) and Loki will be from Ragnarok/Infinity Wars era. bare with me *sweats*

Rated: R

Note: *sweats more* my first threesome one shot of some sorts..

Front row seats: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @eleniblue @itgirl-cad @firelightinferno @liminalpebble @izka8520 @huntedmusicgardenn @loki-laufeyson223 @skittslackoffilter

‘’you will not harm her.’’

‘’I have no intentions on harming her, I assure you. just those who are in my way..’’

You lost track of how many times your eyes have gone back and forth until they gave up once you began getting circled. You had no memory of what had happened a few hours ago, just how you went to bed and.. that’s it. was this a dream? A nightmare? No.. it couldn’t be.. Loki was here, you knew you wouldn’t be harmed.. yet you still tried wrapping your head around the fact that somehow your wrists were strapped to a chair. The cold temperature in the room reminded you just how short your nightgown was as it stopped mid-thigh, hugging your body tighter then the oxygen that struggled to leave your lungs as you took in the scene before you.

Loki(OG) passed your right side once more, chest out and strutting elegantly in his royal attire of leather and armor. His eyes weren’t on you, thankfully.. his dagger clutched in his hand as he held his attention on his opponent that came before you once more in a completely circle and they both kept going. This Loki was dressed similarly just.. less armor, a more casual form but still held the vibe that he was royal and could strike you down in half a second- thus clutching his own dagger with his eyes on the.. other Loki.

‘’where am i?’’ you manage to get your mouth to form words as you realized you were shaking. ‘’how did I get here?-‘’ it looked like you were almost in an interrogation room, with you three being the only ones in the light, surrounded by darkness. If anyone would take a few steps back anywhere, they would surly not be seen. However your voice was enough to have them both pause a few steps away from either side of you, their stance still in defense towards the other but their eyes at least never showed you anything with bad intentions..

‘’you are safe darling, we are.. unsure of our whereabouts as well-‘’ Loki(OG) started, his voice gentle as if it were to calm you as his eyes traveled your body as you shook.

‘’we both know you, it is quite difficult to know who exactly you belong too- but I am most certainly not going to give you up if there is a slight chance you are mistakenly placed’’ Loki snapped as he held his dagger defensively towards the other Loki(OG), fully intending to protect you as your body tensed.

‘’what are you talking about?’’

‘’the multiverse.’’ They both said in unison.

That’s right.. now you remember.. Dr Strange must have accidently hit you instead of.. whoever you were fighting and must have sent you.. here? whatever universe you were stuck in now,.. you supposed this one had multiple Loki’s.

‘’not multiple love, but the same, in each stage of life brought together. Or at least… the two of us. The other’s in the other branches must not have been affected.’’ Loki(OG) explained, smirking as your eyes widened at the fact that he had read your mind.

‘’in our branch, there is a version of you, exactly how you are now. You disappeared.. I am here to take you back with me where you belong.’’ Loki said gently, as if his tone alone would convince you but the other Loki(OG) stepped closer.

‘’she belongs on my timeline- I will not lose her again’’ Loki(OG) snapped and they both starred each other down.

‘’I remember-‘’ you started, making them both look back at you. ‘’I was attacked in my apartment, some Hydra agents that Strange was tracking- something happened and I was accidently sent here to these.. to a different branch as you say..’’ you explained, getting why you were in your nightgown now. ‘’but that still doesn’t explain why I’m tied up-‘’

Loki(OG) chuckled, turning your attention over to him. ‘’you have a tendency to be a bit.. feisty when you awaken suddenly or are in foreign surroundings. it was a way to have you find yourself calmly.’’

‘’well in any case..’’ you said slowly, still trying to wake up from whatever dream.. nightmare- you still weren’t sure- this was. ‘’you both aren’t the Loki I know.. the one on my branch is quite different.. he and I didn’t become a thing until he was a bit older than.. I suppose how you are right now..’’ you explain slowly as you look towards the more.. casual dressed Loki. You felt your cheeks reddening at the subject, but you both didn’t become a thing until he was a part of the TVA. Before he dropped you to your branch..

They both looked at each other and tensed, but you knew they could tell you weren’t lying, and their expressions turned to disappointment.

‘’well, I suppose we should both begin our search then for the other version of yourself, you are clearly apart of a different branch.’’ Loki said quietly and slowly vanished his dagger, his body relaxing as the other did the same.

‘’or.. perhaps we could have a little fun with this..’’ Loki(OG) said in a quieter tone as his eyes dragged back to you, making your hands clench as you tried to unnoticeably pull your wrists against your restraints.

The other Loki was silent, having an unreadable expression like all the others as he looked to you as well. Somehow the room seemed to feel smaller, darker, or perhaps it felt that was when Loki(OG) found himself at your side, his thigh barely ghosting against yours as your eyes rose to meet his hungry gaze.

‘’take me home..’’ you said quietly, fear and nervousness of the unknown dripping off your voice as your thighs pressed together.

‘’we will my darling, we will..’’ he seemed to coo, dragging light finger tips against your cleavage, his eyes drinking any skin you had exposed before his slender digits ghosted upward, trailing a finger to trace your collarbone. ‘’we promise, we love you.. in all our branches, and you love us. You cant tell me you haven’t thought of the possibilities..’’ he dared as his hand trailed up your neck and grasped your jaw now so you were looking at him. ‘’magic has its ways, duplicates though can be it’s own.. erotic adventure..’’

Although you couldn’t move your head, you strained your eyes to look down as you felt a pair of hands gently rest at your bare knees, caressing the skin with long, cold digits and you knew it was the other Loki. He sank down to his knees before you, having no trouble prying your legs apart as your fingers gripped the arms of the chair.

‘’please…’’ you begged, barely a whisper as your heart rate picked up. You loved Loki, the one you were with back home.. you knew these two were also Loki.. but not? It all felt so strange, so much to wrap your head around and you felt Loki(OG) tilt your head up to look up at him again.

‘’calm that beautiful mind of yours love. We will take great care of you and will not force you into anything you wouldn’t enjoy’’ he whispered, sinking down on one kneel to your side and you felt the tip of his nose ghost against your neck as he inhaled. ‘’mm practically perfect in any universe..’’ he whispered..

‘’she feels perfectly the same as she did when I had her.. gods I’ve missed you..’’ Loki’s lips murmured as he began kissing the inside of your thigh by your knee and he slowly dragged his lips towards your center with open mouth kisses.

The other (OG)Loki’s hand left your jaw as you moved to look away from him, only to feel his fingers slowly glide up into your hair and pulled just enough to tilt your head back, making you whimper just slightly. Your breaths were short, eyes wide, and mind doing it’s best to think rather than to feel. Although, they were making it extremely difficult as you felt (OG)Loki’s tongue drag itself against your neck, sucking at your skin while his other hand ghosted over your breast.

You shamefully felt yourself arch every so slightly, catching yourself as you retreated but he was already smirking against your skin. ‘’do not deny the pleasures of this world darling, we do not know how long we have in its universe after all’’ he whispered and gently began massaging your breast.

Yoi felt yourself shiver, trying to strain your back from arching until the soreness made you give up and pushed more against his wicked hand. You felt the other Loki between your legs, having switched to your other thigh as he caressed it with his mouth. He had switched just before he had got to your center and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed.

‘’do not fret darling, I promise we will get there’’ he smirked up at you as his hands caressed your knees as his lips continued.

‘’s-stay out of my head..’’ you whimper, feeling (OG)Loki’s hand now raise and move itself under your nightgown to grope you properly, playing with our nipples as he alternated between your globes.

‘’as you wish darling, your body tells us just enough..’’ he whispered before spreading your legs wider and raised your nightgown ever so slightly to reveal black, lace panties.

‘’my my it was almost as if you were expecting something tonight’’ he smirked and his eyes flashed dangerously up at yours. ‘’I do hope that particular Dr didn’t see anything that didn’t belong to him..’’

You felt the other (OG)Loki’s grip in your hair tighten ever so slightly as he pinched your nipple, making a gasp leave your lips as you arch.

‘’even if he has, it would just be another reason to claim you. over.. and over.. and over again..’’ he whispered and began nibbling on your ear lobe, causing goosebumps to spring up upon your skin as he squeezed at your breast.

Another gasp left your mouth as you felt the flat of Loki’s tongue play against your center against the panties while his fingers slid up against your hips and gripped your underwear.

‘’as beautiful as they are, they have no use anymore’’ he smirked and pulled them down and they were history behind him as he spread you wide again.

Your heart pounded as you felt his breath against your center, teasing you at first as your legs shook. The other Loki(OG) pulled your shirt down, using the stretchy fabric to his advantage so he could place his mouth on your breast now. A moan left your mouth before you could think to silence yourself and you already knew they both were smirking as your cheeks reddened.

‘’that’s more like it darling...’’ Loki murmured before he gave you a long lick against your cunt.

A gasp left your lips as you head fell back, your arms straining against the binds as your pleasure already began to build. The tip of his tongue began teasing your clit, flicking and lapping against it while he took turns sucking as well.

Your body shook and your breaths were almost none existent until you forced yourself to breath periodically while he massaged your clit. Both had wicked tongues, giving you an overwhelming state of pleasure, there was too much to keep track of what was going on. Your eyes squeezed shut, allowing yourself to just feel and your lips parted with no words.

Loki(OG) flicked his tongue against your nipple, nibbling and sucking while making sure to give the other equal attention.

Your eyes fluttered open as you moaned, feeling his tongue plunge inside you, feeling how his moan vibrated your inside which only built more to your pleasure. Your arms strained, wanting so desperately to grasp his hair, to touch.. someone.. and feeling him smirk against your cunt, you didn’t even care if he read your mind or not.

Your eyes opened once more to find that Loki(OC) was now nose to nose with you, his lips ghosting yours as a hand remained playing with your chest while the other now returned to your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lip before opening your mouth slightly.

‘’you’re going to cum for us darling, right now’’ he murmured, pressing his lips to yours as he caressed your tongue with his, almost feeling like the same movement as the wicked tongue attacking your center.

You moaned in his mouth, leaning forward as much as possible as he grasped your hair and got tongue fucked by both your mouth and your cunt. It was to much and your center squeezed and fluttered just as he added his fingers to play with your cunt. Moaning shamelessly into (OG)Loki’s mouth as Loki drove his tongue into you, helping you ride it out as you spasmed and shook before having calmed down once their movements slowed down.

Panting, Loki(OG) smirked as he leaned up and brushed his lips to your forehead, the other wiping his face and licking his fingers, making your cheeks redden.

‘’we won’t stop until we find you love, I’m sure you’ll have a lot of new ideas once you return. Magic nearly makes anything possible. Perhaps your Loki could conjure up a few more’’ Loki(OG) smirked, winking as he stroked your cheek while you looked dick drunk even though they’ve used everything except cock. Just the idea made your eyes wonder and Loki gave a dangerous look while he leaned down to be nose to nose with you.

‘’I think we still have some time left before this Dr of yours finds you..’’

[chillinglyadventurous]

Got some Stanley fluff for ya (just an idea, I probably could flesh it out more but it’s a scene I’ve thought about a lot)

Old man Stan with his younger partner are curled up together on his old, yellow recliner. You’re sitting between his legs, side pressed to his chest while your legs fall over the armrest.

Stan is holding you so securely as he focuses on whatever shitty hallmark movie is playing, fingers rubbing against your hip stalling as he scoffs at whatever stupid decision the characters in the movie make.

But all you can do is laugh and kiss under his jaw while he complains, nuzzling your face into his neck when he stumbles over his words. Huffing now about how you’re throwing him off by acting how the characters in the movie should be acting.

I just wanna sweetly fluster the old man and make him feel loved.

The Duchess Approves

Thank you so much for request! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to it. I’m just happy to get a Stan request. I’m a Ford girl, but I do love some Stanley. He’s the sweetest goober.

Tags: Fluff

You gave a relaxed sigh even as Stan talked over the TV. You were laid across him on his recliner. Your rear was between his legs , head on his chest, while your ankles were crossed over one of the arm rests. At first, you had hated that ugly, yellow chair. Now, it was the most comfortable place in the world.

When you had first started seeing Stan, he would take you out and show you off. However, the sugar baby allegations were too much for you to deal with. You loved this man. You didn’t care that he was forty years older than you. However, everyone else in town did.

Despite his assurances, it made you about uncomfortable. “Don’t worry, babe,” he had smirked, “they’re just jealous I get you all to myself.”

Still, you much preferred where you were now with your side pressed firm to his chest. You could tell he was trying to suck in the pudge he often hid behind a girdle. If only he knew how much you loved it.

Usually, his demeanor was so hard. His personality was gruff, but you knew the sweeter side, the softer side. That’s why you loved that little pooch that you could only ever full see when he was sleeping next to you.

“These idiots,” Stan grouched from above you. “Don’t they knew that’s not how you win a lady’s heart?” He bent you back in his lap and pressed a wet kiss to your mouth. When he pulled away, his face was covered in a smile. You blushed so beautifully. “Now, that’s how you win a lady.”

The two of you had watched The Duchess Knows a million times. Stan always said you loved it whenever someone caught him gabbing on and on. In truth, you couldn’t stand it, but it made him happy, so you would sit through it.

Lazily, his fingers drew shapes on your hips through your pajama pants. Your head rested on his chest, peppering kisses under his chin. He was so engrossed in whatever sleazy moves Count Lionel was making.

In a twist, the Count kissed the Duchess’s sister. Stan scoffed, his fingers on your hip stilling. He looked down at you. “You’d kill me if I ever did that crap! Who does he think he’s foolin’?” He shook his head, “He’s definitely not fooling me. I clocked him as a cad the moment I saw him.”

“Takes one to know one,” you snarked. You gave him another kiss.

He glanced down at you for a brief moment. “Listen here, toots, I may be a cad, but I’m your cad. Get over it.”

“Silly old man,” you sighed as you rested your head on his chest again. He pulled you in tighter. “I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

He nestled you deeper into his hold, body pressed flush against your side. He gave a huff. “Ya know, hot stuff, I’d fight any pantaloon wearing geek for you. Defend your honor and all that mushy stuff.”

[zwoftt]

WEEKLY DORYM MOMOS N OTHER STUFF!!! (in no particular order)))

the chemistry between bells hells and the mighty nein is just so good. i had an absolute blast watching

the settle nod orym gives when jester says dorian is “really handsome” when shaking dorian’s hand

”mr. dorian” cad says when calling over to dorian, who looks a little startled at the professional nickname

dorian nodding in agreement to orym’s plan, as he normally does.

the way dorian tries to show off his abs next to beau after orym asks her what her routine is. the laughter afterwards when he gets embarrassed!!!!

jester winning over braius and getting more backstory than anyone else. so golden.

the jealousy of dorian when he sees how many people are in relationships and [not him] because he’s being a scaredy cat

caleb knocking sense into orym. CALEB KNOCKING SENSE INTO ORYM!!!

anybody else think dorian was trying to set up braius and veth really hard just to get him off of orym??

no thoughts just dorian and yasha bonding over music

the nervous glances robbie and liam share when they’re thinking about what to do with their characters …. especially after robbie tried to knock on orym’s door earlier in the episode but it was drowned out by shenanigans

the frantic inspiration dorian gives to braius when he’s painting orym

everyone getting so silent and so excited when dorian knocks on orym’s door. so is liam! his eyes light up immediately!

the whole confession scene was just so, so, so good. so beautifully well done. it made sense for both characters, and honestly so satisfying to see the moment happen after three years of consecutive pining/yearning. dorian giving orym the chance to make his own choices, and orym curling up in dorian’s embrace immediately just to be there,,, “not wanting to spoil the moment”. some of my favorite lines though, “let me comfort you for once,” from dorian; unaware that he WAS[is] in fact orym’s form of comfort but also implying that dorian finds immense comfort in orym, and orym’s “this is okay.” accepting the fact he is in love with dorian, finally, and truly. INTERLOCKING THEIR FINGERS. sound familiar??? something he couldn’t do with will in the vision???? but he instead does it now with dorian????? uuuuuhghhhhghhhhhh …. dorian fantasizing about them before falling asleep to the sound of orym’s breathing,,, orym staying awake longer to once again watch dorian sleep before passing out too.

also the fact the confession scene wasn’t too dramatic but still surprising and amazingly done just makes that feel so much more REAL. like how REAL LIFE confessions would be with highly traumatized people. not even mad they didn’t kiss yet because boy… just—- ugjjjjhh it was so beautiful, so raw. and it was robbie’s first time doing a romance roleplay too!!!

in the cooldown and [from introspection] robbie says dorian is very inexperienced with love and the feeling of it- since he was sheltered for so long; so orym is basically his first love(but dorian is just also super nervous and respectful towards will and orym’s relationship so that explains why he was so careful about expressing himself too.) and liam mentions orym was too shy to do anything himself so that’s why he had his other character go in there and just slap him on the ass because he wanted orym to talk to dorian somehow. which means that both robbie(dorian) and liam(orym) WANTED to have that exact moment between them, BOTH WANTED them to talk. and also the entire cast was fawning over them, matt getting teary eyed and the girls whispering and laughing to each other, sam getting excited himself and tal just smiling like a dork. everyone was just so proud of them!

DORYM NATION HOW ARE WE FEELING FOR NEXT EPISODES??? IM SO EXCITED TO SEE THE AWKWARD LAUGHTER, LOVESICK FLIRTATION AND EVEN MORE FROM OUR FAVORITE BOYS now time to start the cycle again of waiting years for them to kiss (i hope not please god)

[eddiediaaz]

hi guys, i am kind of ashamed and embarrassed to have to do this, but i figured it can't hurt to ask. basically i am really struggling right now (i know a lot of us are). i need financial help, so i set up a ko-fi page ☕

any kind of help would be so appreciated and i am so grateful for anyone taking the time to read this little post.

long story short: because of situations completely out of my control, i lost my job in vfx after almost 8 years and i am now forced to switch careers. i'm going back to school and can't find a part time job even tho i have been working non stop for 15 years. financial aid will only cover my rent, so i absolutely need to work 20 to 30 hours a week to cover the rest of my living expenses, but it's really hard to find a job. i am also currently over 10k cad in debt from my film school loans and credit cards.

signal boost would be appreciated, if you can 💕

my situation in more details under the cut for those who are curious

i was working in the vfx industry as a 2D compositor since 2016 (i have worked on over 40 films and tv shows), but in december of 2023 i lost my job due to the hollywood strikes (as expected, and as it should—i fully support the strikes). this was supposed to be temporary for a couple months where i could get unemployment benefits (only 45% of my usual salary though). unfortunately, on may 31st 2024, my government announced that they are significantly cutting the funding & tax credits for the vfx industry where i live. what does this mean? mass lay offs. thousands of canadians and other people in the world working in the industry are losing their career, including me. there will only be about 20% vfx jobs left where i live by 2025. vfx shops and production houses have already started to close doors here. i'm still mourning this career i have been working in for 8 years and loved, even tho it's been difficult and demanding at times (lots of overtime), but there are just no jobs right now (unless you are a senior vfx artist with decades of experience) and the future will only get more bleak. i could move abroad and follow the industry that is already moving somewhere else, but i don't want to do that on my own (i am already super lonely as it is!!) and i can't afford it.

my unemployment benefits will run out by the last week of september. in 4 weeks. i've been sending resumes everywhere, both online and in person, but i am just not getting anything in return. even tho i have over 15 years of experience working in various jobs and i have never been fired from anywhere. even tho my resume and cover letters are solid because they have been approved my professional counselors (a free service for people under 35 where i live). so much for they're hiring everywhere...

since my vfx compositing skills are very niche and not really applicable to much else, i decided to go back to school, taking college classes in the admin and excecutive assistant fields, since it's something that i think would be good for me and there are lots of jobs for that here. i will be getting some financial aid, but it's nowhere near enough to survive. it will only cover my rent, and that's because my rent is super cheap for my city. my college classes start on september 30 and i am excited for it, but also very stressed because i still don't have a part time job.

i've been living on my own with a small salary for over 10 years now, but it truly is the first time that i'm struggling this hard. i honestly don't have anything worth selling except some taylor swift perfumes, which i sold this week. i also have over 6k of credit debt and another 4.5k of school loans left to pay. at the bare minimum i will need about $1.000 CAD/month to cover my other bills and expenses after rent, hence why the need for a job ASAP. i am desperate and my mental health has been a huge mess. this is why i decided to open my ko-fi accounts. not that i'm expecting much, but anything can help, i think.

i don't have much to offer in exchange, except gifs? i'm wondering if (cheap, low price) gif commissions are a thing? i have no idea know, but i set up a poll on my ko-fi page to see if anyone would be interested.

thank you for reading if you've made it here, it's appreciated 💖

[buttercuparry]

My birthday was a few days ago and to be honest I had no energy to celebrate it.

I feel so tired nowadays, that it seemed more like a bother than anything else. When I was talking to Siraj the next day, I told him about my birthday. I told him that it was a small affair and Siraj listened. He wished me a good year and a good life warmly, and then asked me why I didn't celebrate it grandly. He asked why was it such a muted and small thing, for he believes that everyone on tumblr, everyone who has spoken to him kindly, has heard him patiently, has posted and donated to him, deserves a celebration. He said and I paraphrase: in a world where the governments of the imperial core are considering a complete annihilation of my identity, of my humanity, of my life, the common people standing with me are my strength.

This is Siraj. This is the man who gets harassed by Zionists on a daily basis, who escaped a massacre a few days ago and yet who always chooses to hope that he will rebuild his house, to believe that his friends on tumblr will be with him till the end of his campaign.

I am deeply ashamed that I have to show the world his humanity, his kindness in this way.

So? Do you see it now? The person, the man from Gaza I have been telling you about for the past few weeks? Is this enough...??

Shall I tell you instead all that Siraj has lost? Shall I tell you that he wanted to get a PhD, but lost his dream to the genocide. That he was once a coach and loved swimming. Where is the sea? Where is his university? Where is his office? Where is his home? All there is left, is this

And this

Siraj is not asking for a penny more than that he is owed. His house cost him $60000 USD ( $82000 CAD) and then it was bombed. The world did not do anything. It still does nothing. So please donate to Siraj. Do not be a bystander. Currently his campaign is stagnating at $13209 CAD . Boost and donate.

[thehaberdasheress]

Valentine's Day for embroidery nerds

Something I love about historical embroidery is how much the present and the past are stitched together. Valentine's Day is one of those things that's centuries old, but still a little new and fresh every time it rolls around. It is what we put into it, as well as what it used to be.

I print patterns onto interfacing that sticks to the fabric while you stitch. Then when you're done, you just dunk it in water to wash the pattern off!

So here are my new festive offerings:

Visible mending patches: Hearts I and Hearts II

I couldn't decide on one, so why not both? These are great if you want an easy way to embroider little wee hearts on things! They really shine when they're used for visible mending. You can use them to attach new patches to holes in old clothes, and look good doing it.

Embroidery Border: Lovebirds High

I wanted something big and fun, so I designed this one myself. Its figurative grandparents are Renaissance blackwork and Scandinavian Rosemaling. I liked being able to combine an existing embroidery border into a bigger pattern. 7.5 cm (3") wide and 16" (40cm) long.

Embroidery Border: Lovebirds Low

Another original design! I've been making a lot of birds lately. To me these feel like office-worker sparrows that have stopped to kvetch together on a window ledge during their seed break. Love... is on the staff meeting agenda. 1 ¼" (3.5 cm) wide and 40 cm (16") long

And finally...

The apple of my eye, the jewel of my crown, Renaissance Hearts

God bless Bartolomeo Veneto (active 1502-1531), who was incredibly good at painting clothing. Because this one, I could make literally the same pattern. I could just go...

The pattern is 3.5 cm (1 ¼") wide and 16" (40 cm) long.

My Etsy Store has even more designs, as well as some fashion accessories. Shipping is free on orders $40 CAD and above.

And as always, I remain deeply grateful for your attention, energy, enthusiasm, and patronage. I am so lucky to have this business; it's changed my life. Thank you!

[wildrangers]

I have a matt smith request, this is like a part 2 kinda on your "surprising matt you're pregnant" fic, can you do where they call their friends/castmates to tell she's pregnant and to see their reactions. Thankyouuuu

I’m thinking this is going to be a small series of sorts but nothing extensive. I have a few other family-focused asks waiting to be written so I’m planning to have it be the same reader character. That way, it’ll be its own little universe of sorts but also each can be a stand alone. Here is the pregnancy surprise ask, a part one of sorts 🙂

Tropes & Topics: pregnancy, fluff

Word Count: 1.2K

“But love, everyone is going to be so excited!” Matt argues, pouting dramatically. 

“I know Matt, I’m not saying they won’t be” you reply, resting your hands on his chest. “But I’m still in the first trimester and I want to keep things small right now. Our parents know, as does your sister who I’m so thrilled will be little one’s godmother. That’s plenty for now, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry to push” he apologizes, covering your hands with his own. “I’m just rubbish at keeping secrets.” 

“Think of it like an NDA for a show” you suggest and he chuckles, nodding. 

“I feel awful not telling Fabs, especially since we know we want him to be the godfather.” 

“Why don’t we plan to tell him first then?” 

“Brilliant idea, my love” he replies, kissing between your brows. 

So, two months later and officially into your fourth month of pregnancy, you were putzing around the kitchen, putting the final touches on dinner for the small party you and Matt had planned. Everyone but Fabien had been given a start time of six so when the doorbell chimed shortly after half past five you knew who Matt would be greeting. 

“Oh it smells lovely in here!” you hear Fabien compliment from behind you a moment later and you turn to greet him with a smile. 

“Why thank you! How are you doing?” you ask, giving him a long hug. 

“I’m well, it’s generous of you two to host this before the first leg of international shooting for season two.”

“Oh we’re happy to, it’s always wonderful having everyone altogether. I know you lot will get to see each other all the time but since I’m not on set…” 

“I mean you could finally quit the job you don’t really like and join us,” Fabien suggests, smiling. This was not a new conversation amongst your and Matt’s friends and little did he know your bags were packed alongside Matt’s in your bedroom. 

“Time will tell” you allow, grinning at the surprised look on his face as Matt joins you two in the kitchen, handing Fabien a glass of wine. 

“Well it’s not a no like usual, so I'll certainly take that. Matt, are you finally getting through to your lovely fiancée?” 

“You know I always defer to her wisdom” Matt smiles, squeezing your shoulder before stirring the pot left on the stove. 

“I guess that’s a good segue to some exciting news” you grin and Fabien’s eyes widen. “I’m actually going to Spain with you all!” 

“No! You cad, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me!” Fabien chastises Matt before wrapping you in another excited hug. “Oh, we’re going to have the best time, Y/N.”

“I’ve never been to Spain and this seemed like the perfect time to since I actually did recently resign from work.”

“What?! Why?” Fabien asks, eyes bulging even wider somehow. 

“Well, we need to focus on packing up the apartment here so we can move into our new home just outside the city” Matt explains, chuckling more as Fabien’s shock deepens. 

“I didn’t even know you two were thinking of moving, this place has been a staple of yours for years now. What’s changed?” 

“Well, we want to make sure there’s plenty of room for the baby” Matt says casually and Fabien nods along until the words finally hit him.

“Are you being serious?!” Fabien asks, hands clapped over his mouth. 

“Surprise!” you laugh and Fabien’s eyes begin to moisten. “Oh Fabs…”

“Oh mates, I’m so happy for you both” he replies, pulling Matt into a firm hug, clapping him on the back a few times before releasing him to place a kiss on your cheek. “Wait, who else knows? Is that why I’m the only one here?”

“Just you other than immediate family” you reply, looking pointedly at Matt. 

“Oh gosh, I can't wait to be Uncle Fabien!” 

“Uncle is great, but how does godfather sound?” Matt asks, voice thick with emotion. The two share a long look as Fabien’s eyes dampen further.

“Matt, you’re joking” Fabien says quietly, eyes darting between you both. 

“Fabien, you’re one of the best men I’ve ever met. I can’t think of anyone else that we'd rather be their godfather” you say earnestly and Fabien brushes a few tears away before pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“I am beyond honored,” Fabien says, clasping Matt on the shoulder. “Oh gosh, everyone’s going to flip!” 

“I know, right? I’ve wanted to tell everyone for months now” Matt replies eagerly and you shake your head, smiling, as you take the pot off the stove and begin reaching for the last platter you need. 

“Y/N, stop, let me” Fabien cuts in, easily reaching the top shelf you’d been stretching towards. 

“I’m pregnant, not an invalid” you say fiercely, glaring at him while you take the serving dish. 

“Oh lovely, I won’t have to be the only one who hears that line now” Matt says enthusiastically and you stick your tongue out at him. 

“I keep saying it because it’s true!” 

“Yes, but we love you and we love little one so let us take care of you both, please?” Fabien requests and you sigh, stepping aside and letting the two men lift the heavy serving platters of food just as the doorbell rings. 

“You don’t say a word Fabien, okay? We have it all planned out” Matt warned and Fabien mimes zipping his lips. 

Soon enough, everyone’s seated around the table and Matt’s tapping his glass to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all so much for joining Y/N and I, I’ll make this quick. I know we lured you here as this being a send off for the start of season two but it’s a bit more than that. This is actually going to be our last party at this place, as we’re moving to a home outside the city shortly.”

“Oh congratulations, how exciting” Emma smiles and you thank them as everyone choruses their agreement. 

“What, are you two about to pop out a couple of kids now since you’re moving to the suburbs?” Olivia jokes and everyone laughs, you loudest of all. 

“I don’t know about a couple but definitely one this year” you say slyly. There’s a moment of silence while everyone processes your words before your friends erupt in celebration. 

“Oh my gosh, I would never have said anything if I knew, I’m so sorry!” Olivia insists, cheeks flaming red. 

“No, no it’s fine that was actually a perfect set up so thank you” you reply sincerely. 

“When are you due?!” Tom questions, scooping food onto his plate before passing the bowl around. 

“Late May so we’ll have either a little Taurus or Gemini” you reply, excited. 

“Oh, she has to be a Gemini, that would be amazing!” Phia says emphatically and you laugh at her enthusiasm. “Matt’s too stubborn already, a Taurus wouldn’t mesh well.”

“Wait, she?” Matt questions, brows raised. “Do you know something we don’t know yet?” 

“No, no, just a feeling,” she explains. 

“Well, I think it’s a boy,” Ewan jumps in. 

“Place your bets now, we have that appointment in a little less than a month.” 

As your friends debate around you, Matt squeezes your hand drawing your attention to him. “I love you, darling” he says quietly, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek.

“And we love you” you reply and his face breaks into that familiar grin that sends your heart racing each time you see it. You’d started saying we since surprising him with the pregnancy announcement and it never fails to earn you that beloved smile of his. 

taglist: @slayraxes-blogs @littlehorrorlover @decaffeinatedparadisepost

[namelessdumbass]

Rite Here Rite Now

It was amazing and funny. Copia girlies and boys fucking won!

I expected different outcome, tbh. Tobias managed to surprise me and also made me a tiny bit sad (reasons will be explained in the spoilers below).

The film consists of like 95% of concert footage and 5% of off stage/plot stuff. The quality of sound and editing is just 🤌 I expected the live of Twenties to be good and gosh Ghost delivered. And Mummy Dust...Tobias let Mary Goore out! But i honestly prefer Terzo's version (CaD) better. Sorry not sorry haha. Ghouls/Ghoulettes footage. Everyone who loves them will be very veeeery well fed!

Dance Macabre live...i was'nt wrong when i called it a satanic gay party 😁

The movie is worth watching and i do hope Ghost releases it as soon as possible for all those who were not able to go.

The spoiler free review ends here. Don't read further if you don't want to spoil it for yourself. And please, don't copy them and paste it everywhere for the sake of ruining other people's fun! Seriously, don't fucking do that!

If you accidently clicked here, don't worry! spoilers will be below and you still have a chance to avoid them :)

Alriiiiight:

Movie starts with Saltarian who tells fans to record for the first 2 minutes, to show how happy they are etc and posted a qr code for fans to upload those recordings. I guess it will be put up on RHRN website. We'll see. There were also photos of fans who attended LA ritual. I fucking loved the person who showed up in a giant Plushia suit. I LOLed! Then fans were asked to put down the phones and enjoy the movie. The beginning was narrated Star Wars kinda style (a little bit) with the small recap of the chapters and about Copia's worries that he might die. And yes, it literally began in space lol. The movie is basically is like what we saw in small snippets Ghost posted earlier. Plot mixed with a really good show.

And the plot: -Short footage of Copia and Ghouls arriving. ALmost the whole set was the same as any other concert from Re-Imperatour + a few awesome exceptions. -Dews does that annoying thing with guitar, Rain stops him, takes his pick and throws it into the crowd and Dew...he freaking showed him YouSuck sticker on the backside of his guitar. Peak Dew moment! -Copia asked the right question about the Clery. He also does not quite understand what it does, why and where it goes. I suppose Tobias decided to thicken the Ghost lore a bit and will have more clarity in the nearest future. -Remember when Copia jumped at the end of the Watcher in the Sky? He ended up in one of those stage boxes (for equipment or something) and is taken to the stage B. While he's carried to it by Kevin he has a chat with Nihil's ghost. Nihil says he recorded not 2, but 3 songs. That probably means that we'll hear a new one. (UPD: the new song we heard during the credits, "The Future is a Foreign Land" is Nihil's 3rd song! Confirmed by Tobias himself in a new interview). He also tells Copia to breath in deep and then farts. -On the Stage B Copia sings "If You Have Ghosts". 3 Ghoulettes played piano and violins and the 4th one did the haunting ghost-like opera vocals. It was beatiful. Copia kissed her hand. -He then wore boxing robe and went next to crowd. Almost the whole scene was shown in the trailer. -Btw, remember that silly moment when Nihil's eyes were crossing? Well, Kevin was also included in that staring contest. -Twenties live. The skeletons, the performance and one of those skeletons who crawled between Dew's legs...that's hot. -Nihil calls Copia "son". Copia calls Nihil "Dad". Cardi will insult him later, don't worry. -Nihil/Seestor cartoon during MOAC. Yes, that's when Sis hit him with the car. Basically it's what happens after "Kiss the Go Goat" mv. Sister leaves and Nihil runs after her. "I'll never let you go". They end up kissing in a coffin on a graveyard , later Nihil wakes up naked in a bed in a motel and we see Sister leave. -There was a moment in a movie when we see Ashley (stage crew) bring Copia a new pair of shoes and put the on on his feet. Tobias, goddammit what the hell was that? :D -Seestor was a in wheelchair all the time -She and Nihil encouraged Copia throughout the whole movie and gave him a piece of advice. -About the baloon from the poster. Copia flies on it after finishing the set...or he imagined that because a few moments later after Nihil/Seestor flashbacks he ends up on the floor and watches Seestor die. All of the Ghouls and Ghoulettes also stood right next to her. -Copia has a twin brother -Copia didn't die and became the head the Clergy (Father Imperator or something like this). He found out about his new position from a letter Seestor left for him. -New song during credits (credits show dictators, assassinations, wars and the use of nuclear war). Years 1984 and 2024 mentioned. The song is not heavy. -Ghouls/Ghoulettes real names mentioned in the credits -Funny post credit scene with Copia. He had no piant on and had a new cool drip (with black jacket and red and black cross). Seestor is also a Ghost now. Tobia's children cameo. They're also Ghosts. -Papa V is teased the same way Copia was teased in a chapter 1. They even used the same music (Pro Memoria). No face reveal. Either he will be revealed in new Chapters or at some point during the new tour???

-aaaand my biggest disappointment: no footage of Primo, Secondo and Terzo. Literally ZERO.

I mean, Nihil is a Ghost, Seestor also became a Ghost, even Tobias' children made a cameo as Ghosts, but nothing for previous Papas? Really?! The same could have been done for them, but i guess Tobias doesn't care about them anymore :( And it hurts. I know that's my fault that i had so many expectations and hopes, but holy shit :( As a newbie who never saw previous Papas, i'm so sad i'll never get a chance to see them and there won't be any new footage of them. Being Terzo widow is so hard. Guess that's why i'm a bit salty Copia lives (sorry, guys, i like him, but i also hate him haha)

And yes, as it turned out the twins theory from Square Hammer was true...but not for Terzo 😭

I enjoyed the movie nevertheless. It's fun and kinda gives you an opportunity to see the band "live" if you've never been to a ritual before. And yes, the movies was'nt just about Papa IV and his fate, i believe it was also Tobias' message for us to enjoy the life rite here rite now! As i said, Copia's girlies and boys truly fucking won. Congrats, lads, your Papa lives and will live! I bet that feels amazing. Thanks for reading! P.S. since you know the plot, don't spoil it for the others please.

[enlitment]

Camille Desmoulins and Maximilien Robespierre – doomed by the Revolution?

a second part of the answer to the ask kindly sent by @iron--and--blood - first part can be found here

Okay, so I tried to follow the sources and I ended up missing what is arguably the key question. I think that there is enough evidence that warrants seeing Camille and Maximilien’s relationship as a ‘friendship torn apart but the revolution’, but could it in fact be something more that the chain of events of the mid-1790s ended up destroying?

(aka the good old “were they gay?” question)

It’s probably not surprising to anyone that there is no conclusive evidence that would suggest that either of them was definitely queer or that they were involved in some kind of a relationship. For context, the French Constitutional Assembly did decriminalise homosexuality, since there was simply no mention of private same-sex relationships it in the penal code of 1791.

Of course, there would still be a stigma surrounding queerness, seeing how France was a Catholic country – well, up to that point. On the other hand, it is also important to remember that anyone who received a higher education at that time would be well versed in classical authors (Greek and Roman that is), so they would have a framework for a positively viewed queer attraction/relationship (I'm mostly thinking of a kind of Alcibiades/Socrates vibes here. I think it sort of fits? Well it does in my headcanon anyway...). Camille especially seemed to be really into classics, making references to classical authors, history or mythology in approximately every other sentence.

CAMILLE – VICES HONTEUX AND A POSSIBILE BICON

If we consider Camille, I think it is clear that he was attracted to women. I think that the historical sources show that he genuinely did love his wife - Lucile - although it may also be true he was bit of a cad. There is a whole deal with him and Lucile’s mother with whom he apparently exchanged some flirty letters? I honestly need to look into it more at some point.

That said, attraction to women of course doesn’t exclude attraction to men. The one thing that would suggest Camille might have pursued a same-sex relationships is the reference to “vices honteux“ (shameful vices), which Saint-Just claims were attributed to Camille by Danton. We also learn from Robespierre’s note that this refered to something that was ‘totally unrelated to the revolution’.

So we know it’s something that would be seen as ‘shameful’ behaviour, but nonetheless a private matter. Could it be interest in same-sex relationships? It’s of course hard to say, but the theory is not completely implausible. For a discussion about this, I recommend this article.

MAXIMILIEN – A CONFIRMED BACHELOR?

With Maximilien Robespierre, it gets a little more complicated. He was essentially a confirmed bachelor, living with a family that adored him but that was not his own (and also a dog. He had a dog.) Talk about a found family trope!

Some sources claim that he was engaged to Éléonore Duplay, but Robespierre’s sister for one vehemently denies this. It’s true that he could probably easily have married her – I can’t imagine her family being opposed to it, far from it probably – but the fact is that for one reason or another, he did not.

He also didn’t really seem to capitalise on his massive popularity among the Parisian women. (Though, to be fair, neither did Rousseau and he was… well I guess he was his own version of heterosexual.)

Sure, one can interpret that as Robespierre being a workaholic or putting the revolution above everything else, but I personally think it is very possible that he would be considered to be on the asexual spectrum by today’s standards.

That said, although France was moving away from institutionalised religion at that point, Catholic guilt could certainly play a role, especially in someone who prided himself in his moral conduct and was told to be rigid about the rules. So the possibility of him being closeted as an explanation for his lack of interest in women would also not be completely off the table.

As to Camille and Maximilien being together in some way? I think there is certainly a precedence for this type of relationship in adolescence. Seeing that they have studied together (and shared enthusiasm for classics probably), it is not impossible, though of course, it is highly speculative.

I think it is also fair to say that Robespierre went above and beyond for Camille until the last few months. That is something he probably would have not done for many other people. He actually said as much himself:

“Learn, Camille, that if you were not Camille, one could not have so much indulgence for you.“

Was it because Camille was universally liked by the revolutionaries for all the good he has done? Possibly, but I think one can also read more into it. It certainly suggests that Camille was special in some way, and the fact that Robespierre uses ‚one‘ instead of ‚I‘ does not necessarily mean he is not speaking about himself here.

CAMILLE AND MAXIMILIEN IN THE MEDIA

When it comes to media portrayal, the relationship often comes across as queer-coded - to an extent.

In La Révolution française, this aspect is more prominent between Robespierre and Saint-Just, but with some well-timed smiles and glances, it almost reads as a tragic love triangle between the three. There are some unfortunate implications however, mainly that the hints of Robespierre's queerness in the movie are implicitly associated with his descent to tyrany. Ugh. (And let's face it, a kind of effeminacy linked to villainy as well. Honestly, who thought that kind of portrayal would be a good idea? Kudos for making a historical movie about the French Revolution come across as homophobic I guess.)

Hilary Mantel straight-up makes Camille Desmoulins bisexual (ish?) in A Place of Greater Safety, though there are <a lot of> issues with that portrayal, as discussed here (watch me linking another mutual's great post! Frevblr is truly the best). Not sure how the relationship with Robespierre is presented here since it’s one of the books I’ve been in the middle of for months.

And then there’s Stanisława Przybyszewska of course. She would honestly warrant a separate post, but long story short: in her works, there is no doubt about the fact that she portrays the relationship between them as queer. She invokes the Erastes/eromenos dynamic between them (quite explicitly, referring to Camille as an ephebe at one point) and makes the attraction between the two seem palpable. There is plenty of queer (under)tones to be found in The Danton Case, but in Last Nights of Ventôse , she straight up interprets the fall of the Dantonists as Camille running into Danton’s arms to spite Robespierre for snubbing him and rejecting his devotion (romantic advances?). And it gets quite physical – not in a way that would warrant an E rating, but it would certainly deserve one for the sheer emotional intensity.

[readwritejayy]

Dinner Date

(Read on AO3 here)

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

Words: 1,103

Notes: throwing my hat in the ring of “writing fanfic for something that isn’t even out yet”. yes i’m also smitten by the gentleman necromancer and his skeleton companion.

Yes, obviously she felt bad for misunderstanding his request. In Rook’s defense, Emmrich had asked if he could “steal her away” for a night when the team wasn’t running left and right dealing with world-ending problems. And given Emmrich’s propensity for speaking so “proper” (which was evidently rubbing off on her a bit), that could have meant any number of things!

No it couldn’t.

Unfortunately she realized that too late, which was why Rook was currently seated in the kitchen of the Lighthouse in a full suit of armor, while Emmrich was dressed in a handsome white button-up, vest, and trousers. His usual coat was missing, but Rook wasn’t about to complain about seeing more of his slender yet poised form.

When she walked into the kitchen, expecting a quick conversation or something to do with Manfred, she was startled to find the kitchen had been transformed. The lamps were dimmed, the counters were lined with candles meticulously lit and arranged, and the little table now had a vase with a single embrium flower.

Emmrich stood beside one of the chairs, wringing his gloved hands together. When she had started to explain her attire, Emmrich just wore that lovesick smile on his face.

“Yes, you do look every bit as magnificent as you do when you’re wielding that axe and cleaving through darkspawn,” he’d sighed.

So Rook took her seat (after Emmrich had pulled out her chair for her, of course). Manfred walked over from his place in the corner. He wore a bow tie around his bony neck. As he walked, the two wine bottles nestled in his pelvic bone clinked together.

He pulled the two bottles out and waved them enticingly, tilting his head.

“Yes Manfred, thank you,” Emmrich replied. “White wine for myself, and a red for the lady?”

Rook shrugged and gave an apologetic look. “I’m not much of a wine drinker myself.”

“Then you could give it a try tonight,” he suggested. While he spoke, Manfred filled the glass Emmrich held, then the glass in front of Rook. “A nice red is a great place to start, but you’re welcome to a sip from my glass as well.”

The conversation flowed as easily as it always did in Emmrich’s presence. She hardly noticed when Manfred brought out their dinners—a pasta dish Rook was certain she wouldn’t be able to pronounce but would probably sound delightful coming from Emmrich’s lips.

It was lovely. And Rook couldn’t help but feel like she’d somehow tricked Emmrich into thinking she was the kind of person that was “wined and dined”. Yes she’d made a mistake in showing up in full armor, but even if she hadn’t misunderstood, it wasn’t like she had anything fancier to wear. The alternative was the casual clothes she wore under her armor with blood and sweat stains that still didn’t come out.

“Darling, is something wrong?” Emmrich was gazing at her with that sweet, worried look. “You don’t have to drink the wine if you don’t wish.”

“No, no it isn’t that,” Rook said, waving her hand. “I just…I didn’t know this was a date.”

His brow raised. Emmrich set down his fork and wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin.

“My dear, I deeply apologize for the misunderstanding,” he explained. “I should have been more clear. You must think me a horrible cad. I can walk you back if you’d like to go…or perhaps you wouldn’t like that—“

“No I didn’t mean…that isn’t what I…” Rook sighed. She rubbed her face with her hands; everything she said always came out sounding boorish next to Emmrich. With a clumsy hand, she gestured to her attire. “I was trying to explain, that’s why I showed up in full armor. I mean, not that I have anything better.”

“Ah.” Emmrich visibly relaxed and resumed eating. “You hardly need to explain yourself to me. I certainly wasn’t going to complain.”

“But you went to all this work! You lit all these candles, you decorated, you made dinner—“

Bones rattled angrily in a dark corner of the kitchen.

“Ah, sorry,” Emmrich said, holding up a hand. “Manfred made the dinner. I ran out of time while I was lighting all the candles. And…I’m not the best cook, though it shames me to admit.”

A breath of laughter escaped her lips.

“You put in a lot of effort,” she continued. “And I haven’t had that before. And I showed up in the same rusty armor I wear for days at a time. And I don’t know how to show you that I’m entirely out of my element but I really appreciate all of this.”

Rook drew in a long breath after her ramble.

“And I like you. A lot.”

Emmrich’s face lit up, his expression rivaling his excitement when they stumbled onto the ruins of a catacomb weeks prior.

“I admit I’m happy to simply be graced with your company. Perhaps I also…quite enjoy the sight of you in that armor,” he said. “But if I could dare ask for more, I’d rather like to walk you to home.”

After dinner, he did just that; he took her hand on his arm and walked her the whole fifteen feet to the door of her room. They stood in front of the closed door silently for a few moments. Rook shuffled from foot to foot.

“You know, you could come in if you like,” she offered. Then she made a face. “I guess coffee is back in the kitchen…I don’t know, it seemed like the thing people say after a date.”

Emmrich chuckled. “I’m afraid I have to decline; it would be improper after a first date.”

“Even if a lady offers? You’re nothing if not a gentleman,” Rook replied, grinning. “Very well. Could I at least give you a kiss?”

Before he could reply, Rook leaned over and pressed a kiss to Emmrich’s cheek. His face visibly flushed.

From the doorway of the kitchen came the sound of bones knocking together as Manfred clapped happily.

“Manfred, please,” Emmrich groaned. He turned his focus back to Rook, taking her hand and kissing her bruised knuckles. “Good night, my dear.”

She watched Emmrich walk away, Manfred ambling on behind him. She still wasn’t sure how she’d caught the attention of the handsome necromancer, nor how she’d managed to hold his attention long enough to convince him she had something worthwhile to give in return. But if he still liked her after tonight, she certainly wouldn’t argue.

She’d just…double check next time he invited her to dinner.

[oh-no-my-hand-slipped]

An Eventful Ride

A snz ficlet based off this prompt

CW/TW: Org*sm, Overstimulation, Spray

*****************************

“Goddamnit…”

They’d been this way before, hadn’t they? To be honest, Reed didn’t have an ever-loving clue. No matter how many times she looked at the map, nothing ever looked right. You’d seen one rock or tree or pond, you’d seen ‘em all.

“Y’alrighd, sweetheart?”

Wendy sniffled against Reed’s shoulder, wrinkling her nose. She hadn’t been feeling too well since the storm a few nights ago before had soaked their sleeping bags and tents — and what had started as a case of the sniffles had become a real hell of a cold.

“We cad stop here for the night…” Wendy began, but Reed cut her off.

“You ain’t spending one more night out here, sick as you are. Gunther reckoned he saw snow clouds Tuesday, comin’ straight for the valley.”

Wendy smiled weakly. “He also told ya thad he was champion at cards, but you beat hib every tibe.”

Reed chuckled, patting the horse’s neck as they came across a bubbling stream.

“He’s not all that at cards, but he’s never been wrong about the clouds. Besides, a cold ain’t anything to sneeze-”

Suddenly, Wendy’s breath shuddered, and she buried her nose into the crook of Reed’s neck.

“hhhtch’chiew!”

Reed tightened her grip on the reigns. Wendy tittered and took out her handkerchief.

“Oh, ‘scuse be. Sduck up on me.”

She dabbed her handkerchief on her partner’s neck, then took to dabbing her nose.

Reed swallowed, her face burning. Wendy blew her nose.

“I really ab sorry, Reed. I didn’d mean to.”

Reed cleared her throat. “Don’tcha worry about it. It just, er, surprised me is all.”

Surprised was quite an understatement. Ever since they’d gotten on the road this morning, Wendy’s sniffles and sneezes had distracted Reed to no end. Something about that pink nose scrunching up, her eyelids fluttering, her whimpers, her shuddering breaths…

And her sneezes.

Not only were they as pretty as could be, but they were always bestowed to Reed on her neck or shoulder, leaving a wet spray on her leather vest.

Reed also rode high in her saddle, the rocking between her legs giving her both relief and a burden she could hardly stand carrying.

“Oh, s-sakes ali-hive-!”

Wendy put her handkerchief to her nose again. Her nose wrinkled, and she batted her long eyelashes.

“I thingk I bay…hay-!”

Reed steeled herself, trying to pay attention to the path ahead of her. But between Wendy’s warm, shuddering breath in her ear, as well as her bosom pressing against her with every hitch, along with the steady movement of the saddle…

“Hih-! HIH-!”

Reed grit her teeth, her knuckles white on the reigns.

“HHHHI’tchiiiew!”

Reed put her hands on her calves, bending forward as her pleasure reached its climax. She willed herself not to shudder as she ground her teeth and leaned back against Wendy.

“Mmmph…”

Wendy looked up, once again cleaning up her nose.

“Darling?”

Reed took a deep breath, readjusting herself in the saddle.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” she sighed. “Just a…bur or s-something, I think.”

Wendy rubbed her cheek against Reed’s shoulder.

“If I felt byself, I’d fight off thad bush for ya,” she croaked. “Nobody messes with by ranger.”

Reed bit her lip.

“W-Why don’tcha try to rest a bit?” she said. “We’ve got a while ‘til the next town, if the map’s right. I don’t want you to tire yourself out.”

Wendy murmured her agreement, already dozing against Reed — who was still trying to get her bearings.

But while Reed thought that she’d get some peace while her partner was asleep, she was sorely mistaken.

To keep herself from falling off, Wendy had, at some point in the ride, thrown her arms around Reed’s chest, nestling into her shoulder. As she faded in and out of sleep, she would rub her cold, leaking nose into Reed’s neck, sniffling and murmuring in her dreams.

If wasn’t long before Reed has both hands on the horn of the saddle, trying not to wake her sleeping partner. However, keeping herself together wasn’t as easy as before.

“Nnngh~!”

Reed gasped, bending forward with a shudder. Wendy yawned.

“Mm, honey?” she murmured. “Y’okay?”

“Yep,” Reed said shortly. “Right as rain.”

Wendy put her arms over Reed’s shoulders.

“Why don’d we camp for tonight? We’ve been riding an awful long tibe, and I’b sure you’re exhausted.”

As much as Reed wanted to get off the horse, a part of her still didn’t feel right camping out in the cold while Wendy was sick.

But, before Reed could argue, she felt Wendy’s nose wrinkle against her shoulder.

Oh no. Oh heavens no.

“Hihih-!”

Reed wrapped the reigns around her hands, pulling them tight between her fingers. She held her breath. She bit her lip.

But all she could think of was —

“hhhhh’TCHIEW! TSH’IEW!”

“GAH~!”

Reed convulsed, unable to help herself. She ground against the saddle, gasping with pleasure that she for so long hadn’t allowed herself.

“Hah~! Haah~”

Finally, Reed rested against the horse’s neck, almost bent over the saddle.

“Reed!”

Wendy slid off the saddle, coming to Reed’s side.

“Honey, whad’s wrong? Can ya hear be?”

Reed breathed heavily, still not quite recovered.

“Maybe there’s a physician sobewhere,” Wendy said, grabbing the map. “And get ya checked…”

Read swallowed. “Wendy.”

“I kndew we should’ve camped for the night! And you were tellin’ be not to get worn out!”

“Wendy. ‘S fine.”

“It’s ndot! Oh, it’s all my fault. If I didn’d go and catch this cold, we would’ve-”

Suddenly, Reed leaned over, taking Wendy’s face in her hands.

“Wendy.”

Wendy stopped, looking up at Reed with wide eyes.

“I ain’t sick,” Reed continued. “And it ain’t your fault. And if it is, it’s ‘cause you’re just too damn pretty. You and your pretty little nose.”

Wendy blinked. “Huh?”

She glanced down, then looked up again, her face turning bright red.

“Oh, sweetheart…”

Reed gave a sheepish smile. “It wasn’t hard the first time, y’know…but the second ‘n third…I couldn’t…er…”

“Now, never you mbind!” Wendy interrupted. “Let’s ged all cleaned up, and then I’ll get in with ya in your sleeping bag. I bet you could use some TLC…”

Wendy took Reed’s hand to help her get off the saddle. Reed limped into her lover’s arms.

She’d tell her about the whole sneeze thing later. For now, what she needed was a sleepy night under the stars.

[sinisterexaggerator]

Dead or Alive

Cad Bane x Fem! Reader

NSFW / 18 + for Blowjobs, titty fucking, ejaculation, public sex acts (semi), and a bit of demeaning behavior / slight humor on Bane's part. Yes, he has two dicks.

Summary: Cad Bane is the most handsome man you have seen in your whole life. He knows that look, and decides to have some fun with you. For you, it's love at first sight. You would let him take you in any way that he saw fit; lucky for you, he's into that (you give Bane sloppy head in an alley behind a bar).

Word count: 3.1k. Short and sweet.

Notes: Haven't written for Bane for a minute. Just wanted to gush over him for a bit. He was so hot in TBB season 2 that I was inspired. This fic takes place from many points of view, but halfway through it settles into the reader's perspective. I may write a part 2 when she/you bump into him again. ;D

A raucous discordance of voices quieted to a dull roar, and then nothing – a nervous cough, the scrape of a chair – so many languages hailing from different star systems pinched off like oxygen from the lungs. Those sentient beings who absorbed the stuff found they held it inside like a scream; they harbored this bated breath, as if releasing it might bring certain doom in the guise of a figure.

A figure who wore a hat, canted downward, its wide brim shielding them from judgement, from the burn of this creature’s gaze, this otherworldly being who was half myth, half legend, half flesh and green blood, bound together by a kind of apathy that bordered cruel.

But the stories were true— time stood still once he walked into the room.

One might swear they could hear the drop of that toothpick, discarded with both absence of mind and disrespect. It bounced once across greel-wood floors strewn with sand, in need of a sweep.

All eyes, including ones that were bulbous and backlit, remained on the blue Duros, a person of sound intelligence left to ponder the notion—the implications—as to the appearance of a diminutive droid from behind his legs, only knee-high. For a hunter of such notoriety to keep a companion that for all intents and purposes seemed harmless was a mystery, almost as big a mystery as the man himself.

“Geric Zodri,” its haughty, high-nosed voice called out, little hands akimbo on his hips, both the new arrivals unaware of the woman who sat at a table just diagonal the door. Her caf cup was held stationary in a position that mimicked art, as if sculpted from marble; she dare not move, wanting nothing more than to observe the sight before her, to commit it to memory, for such a beautiful thing it was.

Skin the color of cerulean seas; eyes as red as human blood that shone like fire; fingers as long and delicate as the legs of spiders. His teeth were as sharp and deadly as his stare, two the length of dagger points, the Duros’ body as thin and gangly as the stem of a candlewick flower sold on market days. 

He was covered from head to foot in leather, tubes jutting from his cheeks like extra limbs, his pants so tight it appeared he had been poured into them. The girl imagined his wide-brimmed hat to be a crown, fixated atop his head and steeping him in shadow, its artificial shade casting its dark pall across honed planes and angles, only making those stark, elliptic eyes more prominent.

Love at first sight—she might believe it, now that she had come face to face with hell incarnate, a fallen angel, a man so handsome tears threatened to fall from her eyes, her previous occupation all but forgotten.

What had she been doing? Datapad sitting idle, screen blackening to the color of pitch.  She hadn’t a clue, forgetting to breathe, forgetting to blink, forgetting her own name as the soft jingle of some unidentified bits of metal clinked against one another with every graceful, slow, deliberate step of this man advancing, strolling beyond her, just to the left.

She felt she might faint; simply pass from this world into the next, to die on the spot as she caught the scent of the gunslinger who smelled like something smokey, something sweet, something not quite like anything else on this stinking planet; it was a wonder she did not spill her beverage straight onto her lap, finally having the sense to place it down upon the table.

Then, another man stood, a human, though nothing about his appearance suggested he was from any place in particular, his eyes wide like an animal ensnared, caught in the path of a hungry predator, though the droid approached him first, his gold-colored photoreceptors angling upward as he tilted his large head.

How did it even stay upright? How did this little bot balance when it was so top heavy, defying the laws of physics? Questions she asked herself as she watched the scene unfold; they were all members of a theatrical audience, her and the other patrons, seated on the edges of seats, cramped in corners to make themselves small, heads bent low with hoods drawn, others smiling wicked smiles of twisted delight.

“Ah, there you are! There is no escape, I am afraid,” the droid said with certainty, joined by an air of pretention that was almost comical. Maybe this woman would have laughed had not all the other people surrounding her been so adamant to keep their silence, a few others daring to inch toward the door in hopes of a subtle escape.

The Duros paused as his target’s eyes shifted, mapping out possible exits, his heartbeat so loud he was positive it could be heard over the eerie quiet that had descended upon this little cantina like an ominous cloud. The gears of his mind were practically visible, turning in the direction of the blaster on his hip, the perp’s arm lifting incrementally in such a fashion as to make everyone aware he planned to draw.

“Naht smart, what yer thinkin’,” the creature’s voice announced, low and husky, words drawled in absolute indifference. So calm and cool, like a tall drink of water served ice cold; he rushed for naught, the girl thinking she would pay all the credits in the galaxy just for him to read aloud to her.

“Whaddeye say ye come quietly, save me a heap a trouble.”

Something akin to fear bristled down her spine, though the threat had not been directed toward her. Worse yet, it wasn’t as simple as that, the tingling of her loins accompanying a heat that spread like wildfire from her groin up to her cheeks.

God, he was perfect in every sense of the word. The tilt of his hip, the drumming of his fingers against his gun belt, the scars that not marred, but complimented his rugged visage. She realized she wanted to kiss him, touch him, worship the very ground he walked on, and she did not even know his name.

“Cad Bane.”

His quarry had spoken, eyes narrowing to match the width of the Duros’, constricted into tapered slits at either end. The girl had only spared him a glance, returning her attention to the rough and tumble nerfpoke whose hand idled over blasters of a kind she had never seen before.

“Supposin’ ye know why Ah’m here, dhen,” the hired gun offered, though his droid perked up, easing himself back into the conversation as if he enjoyed the act of provocation, no better than a sentient who fed on drama.

“For the sizable bounty on your head, of course!”

Cad Bane, the bounty hunter, the girl recited soundlessly. Only known by name, she had never once laid her eyes on him—not that she had desired or ever expected to.

The hunter’s upper lip lifted in a partial sneer, revealing the point of one elongated tooth more clearly. How might it feel for it to press against her flesh? How might it feel to be bitten?

“Dhat’ll do.” The droid needed no other encouragement, backing up to a safer distance as its master stayed put, seeming to know better than to interfere with what was about to occur. The one called Bane never once looked away from his mark, and the girl never once looked away from him, the way in which the Duros carried himself exuding a reptilian-like patience that preceded his species, yet this was something else entirely.

It was a standoff, like those kinds she witnessed in holofilms, but she found herself rooting for the villain—was he the villain? What had this man done to warrant being hunted down like vermin? She would not contemplate the possibilities, too engrossed in the here and now, eyes trailing from boot to brim; she thought she caught a sideways glance in her direction, causing her to dip back in her seat—had he looked at her?

That was the moment a shot rang out, followed by the smell of Tibanna gas and gasps from all around. Another followed suit, within milliseconds, echoing the first. Bane had sidestepped, his reflexes like that of an agile nexu—the human male had tried to take him out and failed.

“Ah’d say better luck next time,” the hunter quipped. The butt of his joke need not be stated, the point of it obvious—he was deader than a starship rivet, hitting the floor like a sack of Corellian potatoes, no one seeming to want to acknowledge this fact as they returned to card games, to gambling, to drinking caf.

But the girl—she would continue to stare, lip nearly chewed to shreds as she bit her tongue to keep from spurting off nonsensical things such as “I love you,” or “please fuck me within an inch of my life.” It was as if he could read her mind, another glance cast with the accompaniment of a smirk.

“Todo.”

The droid was alert and ready to serve, somehow wishing she was he, or it, at his beck and call and then some, never once assuming she could be jealous of a thing that had no soul, made of ones and zeros.

“Get de repulsor,” he commanded. “And ye,” he faced the girl, “come with me.”

---

The coiling of a single digit easily persuaded you, your heartbeat a separate entity set out to betray you; it was felt as a persistent throb below the belt, your cunt clenching as you stood. You were unsure of what the hunter wanted from you, but it did not matter, all thoughts fleeing to be replaced by unconditional obedience.

It would have been unwise to turn him down regardless, apparent from all eyes now set upon you, none wishing to be caught in your shoes. Had he felt disrespected by your ogling? Had he set out to punish you? Would you wind up like the man inside the bar?

You would not see his face again in the span of time it took for him to travel the path laid out before him, unconcerned by your lagging behind, finding you to be no threat. Despite your predicament, you were eager to discover what he had in store, pausing when Cad Bane vanished beyond the mouth of a narrow alley.

Now would be the time to run, to flee for your life, but instead you were stupid, enamored by the way he walked, the way he talked, the clothes upon his back, the color of his pretty scales.

You took a breath, turning the corner. He was waiting for you, thumbs hooked along the waistband of his trousers. Once he was sure you had not abandoned him—and he did allow you your own freewill—he advanced, arriving at a more secluded portion to which he pointed with a downward turn of his index finger.

You bravely stepped forward, aligning yourself with the wall. Bane positioned himself in front of you with a curious tilt of his head, towering above. And while you felt intimidated, you did not outwardly express it, keeping a straight face notwithstanding the trepidation you harbored, meeting that piercing gaze head-on.

Then, he angled his hand, pointing again, this time toward the ground with that same finger, a smug look of callous amusement registered by only a small quirk of his thin lips.

Slowly, thoughtfully, you lowered, drifting to your knees before him as your gaze stayed trained on his gaunt face. He wanted you humbled in supplication; you held no qualms, holding his red eyes with an expectant look for as long as he allowed.

You could get drunk off them, like sanguine-colored wine, your own reflection mirrored back to you; your own desperation; your own indecency, assuming what might come next, yet your expression could only be observed as eager. The Duros’ lithe fingers branched out like twigs as they curled beneath your chin, a hint of a thing most heavenly stretching languidly in an upward curve.

It was a smile, or the beginnings of one, dastardly in effect, Bane all too entertained by your lack of self-respect, perhaps. Yet you obeyed when he pried your lips apart with the pad of a cool thumb, exposing your teeth—nothing like his and dull in comparison—your instinct to wet his scales as your tongue gave a tentative lick, mouth closing around its blue tip.

You sucked, not once breaking eye contact, drowsy with desire as you mimed fellatio, moaning sweet sounds that caused the man to hiss, as if somehow unprepared.

You watched as his free hand unzipped his fly below where his belt fastened, leaving his holsters intact about his tiny waist. It took more than that to partly undress himself, realizing there was a hidden panel made of some extruded, matte material that sealed him off from the outside world; it was like a second skin, only black.

Bane’s bulge pushed against it, as if the thing behind it demanded to be released. Like a snake, it—they—slithered out to your surprise, his thumb abstracted to be replaced by not one, but both his cocks.

Awestruck, your eyes widened; you never would have imagined that what his species packed would be anything quite like this. Coated in a sheer slime that tasted divine, these flexible appendages glided down your throat as if a liquid, bypassing your uvula to delve toward the deepest part of your oropharynx, barely giving you space to breathe.

But you found you could, inhaling through your nostrils as you sat up on your knees, finding his flavor to be enticing, lulling you into a more relaxed state of mind. You were receptive, more than perhaps you ought to be, puckering your lips for better suction, the Duros’ gloved hand finding the back of your head.

He pushed you forward; you did not resist, his slender hips thrusting into you as his reedy fingers coiled into your hair. You aided him, seesawing your neck back and forth, adopting a frictionless speed that caused his grip to tighten, the Duros shamelessly fucking your face like you were a common whore, yet he was not paying you.

His genitalia seemed to be hardening, which was unexpected, making it difficult for you to obtain the oxygen you sorely needed, yet you found to be starved of air was worth it, instead your nostrils filling with a most addicting aroma, none like you had ever smelled before.

Today seemed to be a day full of firsts; your hands found the hunter’s small, yet muscular ass. He did not stop you, though he could if he had the mind, your tongue roiling across and between his members as if imparting a passionate kiss.

What was that? you wondered, your human brain only comprehending it as pheromones, you heart beating faster as you drooled on yourself, spittle leaking down your chin to fall against your breasts. The hunter yanked you backward by your locks, stealing his cocks from you; you panted, gasping, yet you were indignant, tongue searching them out in a pathetic display worthy of embarrassment as you whined in dismay.

“Human girls would choke dhemelves te death,” he commented, tone mocking, allowing the reinsertion of one, while the other slid down the front of your top to fondle a pebbled nipple, slipping beneath the fabric of your brassiere.

He was right; you had not wished to stop, only now noticing how dire the situation had been. As if hypnotized, or seduced by his scent, in that moment you would not have cared if you asphyxiated, so avid was your zeal.

You moaned in earnest, enlivened further by his attention to your tits, however unconventional, moving your hand to grip his interred cock’s sleek base. You gorged on it, one of the Duros hands finding purchase against the wall behind you, propping himself up as you deigned to never be forgotten, feeling privileged to have even gotten this far.

You changed your mind; you went hands free, smashing your breasts together, creating a snug crevice between your cleavage for him to fuck. You continued to slather his first cock in your saliva, deepthroating him to the root of his tentacular shaft, putting your whole body into motion, your tongue ebbing and flowing, cheeks hollowing, coaxing him to bust.

He produced a gruff, throaty sound that nearly caused you to cum untouched. You would have played with yourself right then and there, but his pleasure was the thing you sought, keeping your tits level as he drove his secondary cock between them, droplets having formed at its head; the sticky beads of precum leaked out onto your chest.

“Give a Rodian a run fer dheir creditsss…” he praised, your underwear thoroughly soaked; you relaxed your throat as he face-fucked you harder, though his movements slowed, his strokes deeper, longer, more succinct.

“Get ready,” Bane warned; you felt born ready, squeezing your tits around him at the same time your mouth hugged his every inch. He came, a torrent of ejaculate pumping itself down your gullet and into your belly, the other spreading its seed all across your breasts and neck, spurting as high as your chin.

You were covered, inside and out, verbalizing your ecstasy by way of a happy purr, though you were quickly disappointed when his snake-like dick wriggled right out of you to join its twin, both dripping with remnants of his sperm.

You licked them clean, begging for more, a plaintive whine escaping you as you gazed up with sorrowful, pleading eyes, so sad that it was over.

Bane stuffed himself back inside his suit, his trousers, and awkwardly adjusted, waiting for the moment his dual dicks would retract inside himself, making his pants all the more comfortable to wear.

He pat your cheek; it was a demeaning gesture, yet you ate it up, nuzzling your face into the bowl of his palm for those few seconds, like an eager kitten who craved attention, finding yourself to be devastated when he broke physical contact, your mind swirling with thoughts of him and only him, Bane knowing that look all too well.

“Thanks fer de head.”

The hunter tipped his hat, turned, and moseyed back the way he came, the way from which he had ushered you minutes prior, his droid drifting by with the body of the man Bane had shot laid out on a hover-stretcher, leaving you to pine away for him as he knew you would, walking out of your life just as quickly as he had arrived— oh to be his bounty, dead or alive.

—-

Cad Bane masterlist