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pboogerswbb · 2 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 7

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: sexual content, mental abuse, toxic relationship, language Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: SHE'S BAACKKK!!! omg i missed you guys so much you don't even know! I AM BACK and i'm locked in and i finally got this chapter out for you, ty for being so so patient with me, i will have more time to write for everyone now!! ily guys and tysm for 1k followers, i have a little surprise to you to celebrate that soon :)) ILYM <33

italics are flashbacks

Before London

“You buckled up?”

“Yes,” I murmur, crossing my legs and looking out the window. It’s one of those days where it’s been grey and gloomy since the morning. The dark clouds billow in along the horizon, causing an unbearable humidity to fall over Dallas. The weather felt heavy, everyone hoping for a gentle May storm to bring some relief. I could feel sweat growing in my neck, the humidity causing my hair to turn unruly, impossible to manage, dark curls twisting every which way except the direction they were supposed to.

The heaviness was impossible to escape, even in Paige’s car - though I’m not exactly sure if it’s the weather or the tension between us having my stomach doing flips.

“Jesus…” The blonde mumbles to herself when a song by The Weeknd starts playing, nimble hands quickly skipping it.

Since our interrupted moment on my couch we hadn’t talked about it, neither of us wanting to be the first to bring it up. We left it at that, just a moment of weakness between us both, Paige avoiding my gaze whenever she could. The blonde, however, had been growing uncharacteristically more frustrated ever since. Whether because of what happened between us or the game tomorrow, I wasn’t sure.

“So… When’s your dad coming?” I ask carefully, knowing she has been irritated all day. Matter of fact Arike and Lou had warned me about it earlier.

“Tonight, I’ll pick him up from the airport,” she mumbles and then groans, hitting the steering wheel like remembering something. “I was gonna clean before but I forgot.”

“Do you need help?”

“Nah.”

“Paige, I really don’t mind,” I insist, watching the hooper driving with practiced ease in her Nike sweats and a black t-shirt. “I kind of owe it to you since you took care of me…”

Paige’s blue eyes flicker from the road to me, back to the road, face turning red at the memory of us on the couch. Just as she’s about to answer, another song by The Weeknd begins to play.

“This fuckin’ playlist,” Paige groans, quickly skipping every song with any type of sexual implications. It was almost funny, really, the way she was behaving. She’s huffing, fumbling with her phone to change songs before throwing the device to me. “Just put on sumn Iz, please, I’m getting pissed off.”

“I can see that,” I chuckle, picking another list which seemingly is more chill. “Nervous about the game huh?”

“I dunno man,” she mumbles, rubbing her face and leaning back against the seat, jaw clenching. Truthfully, I felt just as frustrated, my mind spinning around how the girl felt on top of me. Everything she did felt so effortless, yet had me probably wetter than I had ever been in my life with such ease. The mere memory had been driving me mad, my own hand trying to relieve the ache between my thighs but with no such luck. Honestly the tension was driving me just as frustrated as Paige is. And God this stupid, overbearing heat, the way it had turned my skin sticky, making it hard to breathe. Paige rubs her own chest, as if feeling the exact same.

Even now, watching the blonde, her veiny hands on the wheel, arms glistening with sweat from the humidity, neck bobbing as she swallows heavily, blonde hair down and straight. all of it had that familiar ache grow between my legs again. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone this much.

I lick my lips and move my eyes to the road, beginning to feel flustered. The temptation of toying with the idea of going to bed with the blonde had been growing stronger and stronger, driving me up the wall. Maybe it was time for me to try on someone else. But I felt afraid, it had been years since I slept with anyone else but Jasper. Maybe this could be a good chance to see how it might make me feel? But then again Paige would need to understand that it has to be just sex. Nothing more. No attachment.

Memories of her filthy words repeat in my head. I swear no one’s ever spoken to me like that before. No one had ever told me such dirty things. It was exhilarating, it had me soaked.

The drive is quiet, Paige letting out frustrated huffs now and then and chewing on her lower lip.

“Will we still do the pregame interview for socials tomorrow?” I ask.

“Course,” she huffs with annoyance.

“Okay no reason to have an attitude with me now,” I answer, growing a little annoyed or perhaps frustrated too.

She pulls up to our building’s parking lot, exhaling loudly. “You right,” she mumbles and turns to me, face softening exponentially. Paige reaches over, taking both my hands into hers. It’s enough to make my stomach flip. “You right Iz, I’m sorry. Ion wanna be like that with you I just… It’s this damn heat and everything.”

Our eyes lock, and I consider leaning over the center console and kissing her. But I wasn’t brave enough. Not yet, at least.

“It’s okay Paige,” I hum. Slightly hesitantly, the blonde brings my hands up to her mouth and presses a soft kiss to both of them, eyes fluttering shut. I feel the familiar blush build on my cheeks as I watch her, jolts running through my body. No, I’m done being scared. I need her now.

“Can I come over to yours please?” I ask as politely as I can, though the look in my eyes lets Paige know exactly what’s on my mind. I swear I’ve never seen her nod so quickly, barely letting my words sink in. She clumsily climbs out of the car, practically running to my side to open the door and helping me out. The blonde’s steps are hurried, long strides making it hard for me to keep up as we climb to her floor, a slight grin on my face as I watch the eagerness in which she was moving with.

Paige’s hands scramble with the lock, the key shaking a little in her hand as she finally opens the door, allowing me in first. My stomach starts to twist, and there’s a burn spreading around my upper thighs as I take off my heels, suddenly significantly shorter than the blonde girl following on my tail.

I hear the door close and turn around, chest heaving much like Paige’s is as I watch her blue eyes roaming my body, the black pencil skirt and the body hugging maroon short-sleeved top, her gaze landing on my face, mouth already agape and breaths growing heavy.

For a moment we just breathe, our eyes locked on each other, taking the moment in. The tension, the pent up frustration, the need we have for each other, until the blonde snaps and pushes me into the wall which feels cold against my warm back. Paige’s hands land on my waste as our lips crash into a messy, sloppy, needy kiss. A type of kiss I had never had before. It leaves me breathless, my arms wrapping around her shoulders, long fingers wrapping into her hair and pulling the girl closer. She moves her lips off mine, beginning to trail to my neck, hands on my waist travelling downwards to my ass, groaning as she feels it under her grip.

“W-wait,” I gasp breathlessly, legs already beginning to shake.

“Mhm,” Paige hums against my skin, lips never quitting working on my neck.

“I- fuck,” I whimper. “I just need you to know that this has to be just sex.”

Without even thinking I feel the blonde nod, lips sucking right below my ear. “Okay, whatever you want Iz.”

I pull her away from my neck by her hair, meeting her eyes. “I’m serious. Just sex.”

Paige’s eyelids are heavy, the normally bright blue of her eyes turning dark with lust as she gazes down at me. “Izara, I mean it. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be okay?”

When those words leave the blonde’s mouth I nearly crumble to the ground. I can’t wait for a second longer, the wetness pooling between my legs enough proof of that.

“Take me to bed,” I tell the younger girl, who picks me up with ease as my legs wrap around her torso. She kisses me hungrily, our tongues meeting in a battle for dominance which the blonde soon wins as she places me down on her bed softly, my skirt now hiked up halfway up my thighs.

For a moment Paige stands above me, eyes roaming my body as she shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re so beautiful,” she mumbles, then climbs on top of me, her right hand hiking my skirt all the way up, revealing my lacy red panties. When Paige notices, she lets out a groan, practically drooling but working hard to pace herself.

“Take this off,” I murmur, yanking on Paige’s t-shirt.

“Yes ma’am,” she replies, pulling it over her head and onto the floor. I watch the way her muscles in her abdomen clench and I can’t help but drag my fingernails along it as she sits up on top of me, straddling me while I lie flat against the soft blanket.

“Fuck,” she moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, her hands inching underneath my top.

“Would you like it off?” I ask, chest heaving.

“Yes. Please.”

I pull the top off, the blonde’s fingertips leaving tingles as they drag over my ribs. Somehow I don’t feel nervous, all my anxious thoughts left the second I felt Paige on me again.

“Goddamn…” The girl sighs, her hand dragging to my matching lace bra and palming my round breast, making me whimper. I pull her down by the chain on her neck, kissing her feverishly, my underwear growing wetter with every passing moment, mind spinning with need. As I let out a whine, Paige gets the hint, her right hand dragging down my body to my bare thigh and squeezing.

My back arches off the bed, another whine spilling from my lips but quickly silenced by the blonde’s kiss, her fingers trailing up my inner thigh torturously slowly.

“Paige,” I cry out.

“Tell me what you want?” Paige asks, her voice gravelly in a way I haven’t heard before.

“You to touch me,” I whimper, my brows furrowing with need. “Please.”

“So polite ma,” she grins, beginning to kiss my neck, inching downwards my body to my breasts. “I’mma take good care of you baby, don’ worry.”

My legs spread wider in anticipation as her lips trail downwards along my stomach. I can feel my head spinning, unable to accept that this is real and actually happening. That I would finally find relief to the awful ache inside me.

Faint giggles take me out of the moment, snapping me back to reality. I must’ve imagined - no wait, I can definitely hear giggles. “Paige,” I say.

“Mhm,” she hums, kissing along my inner thighs now.

“You hear that?”

“Hear what,” she mumbles against my skin, nuzzling it, her eyes finally opening when I sit up.

“Listen,” I complain, pushing her off by her forehead to make her pay attention.

“I hear nothin, just lie down and re-”

It’s clear. The sound coming from the front door. Paige’s front door, someone fumbling with the key in the keyhole, turning it and-

“What the fuck?” Paige asks, abruptly getting off me and hurrying to the door of her bedroom, peeking into the corridor in her sports bra and sweats. I get up too, pulling my skirt down, wanting to cry with frustration.

There they are. By my doorstep. KK, Ice, Azzi, Jana and Ash, holding balloons and banners and other decorations, giggling amongst each other.

“I- wh- KK? Ice? A- how did y’all get in?” I ask, eyes flickering between the girls and Izara in the bedroom, pulling her skirt down and throwing her top on frantically.

“Why aren’t you at practice?”

“It ended early,” I say, my voice rising uncharacteristically as I attempt to steady my breathing from what almost just happened. How close I was to getting what I had been craving for weeks. I loved these girls but, God could I kill them right now. “How the hell do y’all got a key to my place??”

“Oh it’s your dad’s,” Azzi giggles. “We were gonna surprise you, he’s downstairs.”

Oh so not only my girls but my dad was gonna arrive at the scene. With a girl in my bedroom. I glance at Iz, who’s fixing her hair in the mirror, but she looks completely fucked out. And I bet I do too. I had no idea how to explain myself out of this one.

“Wh-” I start

“Yeah why aren’t you hugging us and shit? You forget all about us?” KK huffs.

I rub my face, letting out a heavy exhale when Izzie walks out of the bedroom into the eyeline of the group of girls. All their eyes widen, and I can’t ignore the shared looks between them. Quick, Paige, say something.

“Uhh, guys this is Iz- I mean, Zari, she uh, was over to uh…” I scratch the back of my neck, KK already covering her mouth trying not to laugh.

“I just needed to borrow…” Izzie’s eyes scan the room. “Paige’s lamp! Mine broke, so. Couldn’t see to read my book.” Her face is bright red, the usual composure with which she presented herself completely gone. I almost groan at the excuse but realise that would just make the situation seem a million times worse.

“Yes! She was! Uh let me get it for you,” I mumble, about to walk into the bedroom to actually grab a lamp for the girl.

“No no! You say hi to your friends, I can do it myself!”

I wanna bury my face into my hands and go back into the bedroom and lock the door and never come out. All the girls are staring with amused faces, hands holding balloons and flyers and little decorations in preparation for my first game tomorrow, clearly suspicious of us two. Just when I think it can’t get worse, my dad - yes my dad - walks in.

“Why are you girls all- Oh hi, don’t you have practice?” He asks, holding a cake.

I rub the bridge of my nose, not sure whether to laugh or cry at this point.

“Got home early,” I sigh, too flustered to even enjoy the fact that my best friends and my dad were here to see me.

“This girl here is borrowing a lamp,” KK mumbles under her breath to my dad, trying to hold in her snickers. What a stupid excuse. I thought Izzie was supposed to be smart. Borrowing a lamp, what kinda excuse was that?

My dad’s eyes land on Izzie, flickering between me and her and the awkwardly large distance between us as if that might help us look less suspicious. Though based on the small grin on my dad’s face, I can tell it’s doing the exact opposite.

“I’m Bob, Paige’s dad,” my dad slides inside through the girls who are eyeing the situation with amused expressions, shaking hands with Iz like I wasn’t just between her legs ready to do something unimaginable.

“Hey, I’m Izara. I’m a friend of your daughter’s.”

“Izara huh?” He turns to me with a sly grin, something I’d inherited. “You haven’t mentioned an Izara?”

“She prefers Zari,” I correct, trying to avoid his eye. “She does media for the Wings.”

For a moment everyone’s quiet, multiple pairs of eyes staring at me, then Zari, then me again. The silence lingers, bordering on uncomfortable when to everyone’s relief KK speaks.

“Bro we don’t even get a hug or nothing?”

She’s there, sitting on my couch, in between Ice and Azzi and laughing that sweet giggle of hers. She looks comfortable, already gaining the approval of my friends with ease. We’re sitting in a circle around the coffee table eating pizza, easy conversation flowing between everyone. But all I could pay attention to was the brunette girl, how easily she fit in, how she had already charmed the hell out of my dad. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, the way her eyes sparkle when she laughs at my friends’ stupid jokes, or the coy smile on her perfect lips when my dad asks her a question. I needed her, badly, even more than before if possible.

“Excuse me, I need some water,” Izara catches my eye and excuses herself to the kitchen. Without a word I get up, following on her trail like a puppy. I know everyone notices us leaving, but I don’t care. I wanted to take every second to be with her, to touch her, to have her to myself.

“Hey,” I mumble, leaning against the doorframe and watching as she looks through my cupboards for glasses.

“Hey,” she hums with a smile. I walk to the girl, pressing my front into her back as I reach for a glass in the cupboard above us.

“Oh, thank you,” Izzie says, her voice shaky as my hand lands on her waist. The girls’ voices are loud but distant, echoing around the sparsely furnished living room. So in a moment of weakness I allow my head to tilt down into the crook of Izara’s neck, inhaling the fruity, gentle jasmine scent of her perfume, nuzzling my nose against her goosebump forming skin. I feel her shift, the curve of her ass pressing against me as I allow my lips to press soft kisses onto her golden skin.

The dark haired girl lets out a shaky breath and the sound drives me wild, it taking every drop of my self discipline not to make everyone leave just so I could have my way with her, just to make her feel good. Izzie’s head tilts back, resting against my chest as I bite on her shoulder, my lips gliding and leaving sloppy kisses on her neck.

“Paige,” she whispers chuckling, clearly torn between asking me to stop and asking for more.

“You’re fucking killing me,” I murmur into her ear, my voice hoarse and trembling with need.

The girl turns around, her green, emerald eyes wider than usual looking up at me as her hand moves onto my chest. I let my fingertips slide underneath the hem of her shirt, feeling the soft skin there. “We’ll have time. Later,” she comforts me softly, but it’s not enough.

I throw my head back in frustration and groan, like a child not getting their way.

“Izzie I’m so forreal, I need to have you before the game tomorrow or I’mma be so out of it.”

The girl giggles, shaking her head, wrapping her arms around my neck. “Come over in the morning?”

“I gotta leave at 10. Needa take my time with you.”

Izzie chuckles. “Okay, 8:30?”

“8:00,” I argue, though no amount of time would be enough.

“Do you need two hours?” The girl laughs but I shake my head, trying to stifle the grin on my face.

“Ion need more than five minutes ma, trust,” my words make Izzie’s cheeks turn a shade of red. “But need to take my time. Wanna do it just right.”

Izara might be poised and have a great poker face, but I can tell she needs it as bad as I do. It’s in the way her chest is heaving, the way her pupils are wide and the way her mouth is parted. So I lean in, my lips hovering over her ear.

“Gonna eat that pussy so good ma, gonna have you crying-”

“Yooo…”

I pull away urgently, helped by the fact that Izzie practically pushes me off her, both our heads turning to KK standing in the doorway, trying not to laugh.

“Uhh, I’mma be back,” she says turning around but I grab the shorter girl by the arm and pull her back in.

“Whatchu need?”

Izzie is blushing, trying to hide the smile growing onto her face by holding her hand over her mouth and staring at the wall.

“A tissue, I dropped some food,” KK says.

I gasp. “Bro not on the rug right?”

KK scoffs, grabbing the tissue from me. “Dallas changed you already ‘cause why you care about a rug more than me?”

Paige

Yo I’m so sorry I gotta head in early

That’s okay Paige, good luck. I’ll see you before the game, yeah?

I reread the texts on my screen that I never got an answer to. I’m not worried, she’s probably nervous. Or busy. But it’s so… unlike her. Paige was usually the one to message me back the moment I texted her. I was probably overthinking. I hated how I got when I liked someone. Not that I liked Paige. I wanted her badly. But there were no feelings involved and there surely could never be. I wasn’t even close to being ready.

Despite all that I could feel an uncomfortable twist somewhere deep in my stomach watching the way the blonde girl had left me on read. Like I always did when I began to get feelings. I was painfully aware of how scary it was, those feelings stirring within me again. I just had to keep them in control. I know how these things end. I know Paige seems amazing right now - unreal almost. But it was just an illusion. Soon she’d be bored of me, leaving me in tears, crying myself to sleep at 3am. That’s how it always ended up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl again.

“Jasper, please, could we just sit down and communicate?”

My voice is steady, gentle, like it had to be when he was in one of these moods. I sit on the couch, watching as he paces around me, trying not to blow up. I try to make myself small, breathe quiet, not look him in the eye, anything that might set him off. Once Jasper was set off there was nothing to do. I knew that better than anyone.

“Here we go again,” he groans, throwing his head back in frustration. A bitter, sarcastic laugh escapes his mouth.

“No, not like that, please. I swear I just want to talk-”

“No Izara you want to bitch about my drinking again. You’re behaving like a controlling bitch-”

There’s a pang of pain in my chest, the tears I’ve been swallowing making themselves known as my eyes grow wet.

“Please, Jasper, I’ve asked you before not to call me that,” I plead, my voice still soft but growing weaker.

The man rolls his eyes at the sight of me. “Wow, here we go again. Poor Zari, always perfect, always the victim.”

“I never said I was perfect, far from it! I’m just asking you to not call me a bitch,” I debate, my voice rising in response to feeling defensive.

“I didn’t even say you were a bitch! I said you’re behaving like one!” His voice is harsh, cutting through the air and ringing my ear painfully. Familiarly. This was a discussion we’d had about 15 times before. And it always went the same. I don’t even know why I was still trying.

“God, you’re so manipulative, trying to put words into my mouth,” he murmurs under his breath. He’d said those words so many times part of me had started to think he might be right. Maybe I am manipulative. Maybe I need to just let him be. I’m being dramatic and his drinking wasn’t an issue. Jasper never physically hurt me or hit me. It could be so much worse. Words can only do so much.

I feel the tears spill over finally, dripping down my cheeks. As Jasper notices he lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “What, you’re crying now? Like you’re the victim here?”

“Jasper, please, I’m tired,” I cry, my voice shaky as I bury my face into my hands. “Can we just forget this and go to sleep? I’ve got that important meeting tomorrow.”

“Well probably should’ve thought of that before, huh? Before starting all this drama for nothing!”

“I just wished you wouldn’t have been so drunk tonight! I was having a hard day, I needed you with me!” I finally snap, yelling back. I never yell, but sometimes with Jasper it felt like it was the only way for him to hear me. Even though I always hated myself afterwards.

“So what? I’m a bad boyfriend? Worst boyfriend in the world?”

“No, that’s not what I said-”

“Fine, if I’m so bad I’ll leave,” Jasper simply says. walking to the entryway, grabbing his coat off the coat rack. Urgently, I get up and run after him, panic spreading all over me. He knew this triggered me. He did this every time he was about to “lose” one of our fights. Because it hurt me the most.

“Wait, wait wait wait,” I cry, my voice weak and trembling as I grab his arm. “Please no, don’t go, please, Jasper, please.”

He ignores me, pulling his arm out of my reach and looking for his keys.

“Jasper,” I sob, legs too shaky to hold me up anymore. I fall to my knees, trying not to throw up all over the man. “Jasper, please. I’m sorry. You’re right, I’m too hard on you. You’re so wonderful to me. I love you okay, I love you. I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.”

The man finally turns, looking down at me and shaking his head as my wide eyes blink up at him. With a deep sigh, he puts down his keys and lifts me up from the ground.

“Are you done?” He asks, voice frustrated and tired.

I nod, tears still spilling from my eyes. “I’m sorry, please don’t go. Please.”

“I won’t Izara, but these fits of yours need to end,” Jasper says as his comforting, familiar arms wrap around me.

“You’re right, Jasper. It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

My cab finally pulls up to College Park Center, and I quickly slide in through the side door, making my way through the confusing corridors with practiced ease now. I wanted to find the blonde girl, just to make sure she was okay. Just to see her before the game. I check the gym, the weight room, the dining hall but see no sign of her. Finally, as a last resort, I knock on the door of the dressing room, shifting on my feet and smoothing over my black mini skirt and the red sweater hanging off my right shoulder nervously. At last the door opens, Lou peeking her head out with a smile.

“Oh hey.”

“Hey Lou, happy game day!” I greet her, trying to not make it obvious I was looking for someone. Like I was just casually there to wish the girls good luck.

“Thanks Zari, big day,” the girl smiles, looking at me expectantly.

“Oh, uh, is um, is-”

“Paige is here, you need her?” I don’t miss the grin on the brunette’s face, the knowing look she has in her eyes. Thought I had been hiding it better with Paige, apparently not.

“Yes, actually I do,” I chuckle awkwardly, clasping my hands in front of me, acrylics scratching against my skin. My heart races as I wait, my stomach turning at the idea of seeing her. Seeing Paige.

Soon the blonde girl arrives at the door, but the familiar wide smile isn't there. Her eyes look red, tired, the skin darker than usual underneath, mouth in a straight line.

“Paige, are you okay?” I ask, taken back by her appearance.

She looks at me for a while, blue eyes landing on mine, big hand rubbing her jaw. “I’m alright.”

I can tell that she’s not.

“Paige,” I repeat, looking at her challengingly. The blond sighs and shrugs and it’s then I notice the shaking of her hands. Uncontrollable, clearly visible. “Whoa, what’s going on darling?”

She looks back into the changing room before stepping out, shaky hand rubbing her eyes. I don’t miss the slight tremble of her lower lip, the way her blue eyes grow glossy.

“Whoa, hold on love,” I coo, grabbing a hold of her hand and pulling her into a new corridor, opening the door to the often empty media team office to find it desolate of people once more. “Come on.”

I close the door behind us and watch closely as the blonde plots herself down on the couch, chest heaving fast.

“Paige, talk to me,” I comfort her, following behind and sitting next to her. As the blonde lifts her blue eyes off the floor, I see she’s tearing up avoiding my gaze.

“I’m so fucking scared Iz,” she admits, lower lip quivering. My heart fills with affection, and instinctively I wrap my arms around her broad, bare shoulders in her sports bra.

“Of what?”

“Of screwing up, everyone got crazy expectations. Everyone gonna be watching,” Paige sighs, sniffling weakly. I had never seen her like this, in my head she wasn’t afraid of anything. Guess I was wrong.

“Paige,” I begin, pulling back and grabbing hold of her warm hands. “It’s a big moment, it’s okay to be nervous, to be scared even. But you’re not gonna fail. The only expectations that matter are the ones you put on yourself.”

“I don’t know, I love my girls y’know but fuck I don’t need em here today,” she sighs, wiping a tear from her left cheek. I let my thumb help her a little, brushing against her soft skin.

“They wanted to surprise you, they love you very much, you know?”

“I know,” Paige murmurs, her thumbs rubbing the skin of my palms. “But I just needed to focus on myself today. I dunno, just feel really fucking overwhelmed.”

“Hey,” I stop her, chasing her gaze. The blonde’s blue eyes meet mine, finally softening. “You’re going to go out there, and you’re going to pretend it’s just you and your team at practice. No audience today, no one you know watching. Just you. And whether you get none of your shots in or all of them, it’s okay. And you get to try again. You’re just dipping your toes in okay? This isn't the defining moment of your career. It’s just one of many.”

Paige listens and takes every word in, processing as her eyes remain locked in mine. Finally her brows soften and she lets out a final, relieved breath.

“My dad really liked you, talked about you all night after you left.”

“Really?” I grin, making the blonde nod with a smile.

“My friends too, they wanna get to know you better,” Paige adds. I feel a slight panic in my chest for a moment, the fear of what Paige might’ve said to her friends about us. After all, we had agreed to be just friends despite everything. I hope she didn’t have the wrong idea that I might change my mind.

“Wish I had time to come see you this morning.”

I feel my cheeks heat up immediately. “Yeah?”

She nods, a small grin growing on her face. “Yeah, wouldn’t be feeling so tense.”

I chuckle as her hands let go of mine, landing on the back of my head and pulling me into a sweet, caring kiss that takes me by surprise. But I can’t bear to pull away, nor do I want to. So for a moment we kiss, our lips moving together sending jolts all over my body as the blonde’s hand lowers to my waist and pulls me closer to her. Without a thought my body obeys, skirt hiking up as she pulls me on top of her to straddle her.

Both of our breathing grows heavier as the kiss turns more urgent, Paige exhaling loud through her nose as her hand finds the soft skin of my bare upper thigh, grabbing it needily making me wince. I could feel my arousal pooling between my legs once more, the blonde’s hand sliding upwards until her thumb meets the sheer fabric of my panties, pressing against my clit. We both let out a quiet, desperate whimper, me from the contact, her from how wet I already was.

This wasn’t sensible, anyone could walk in. Paige’s first ever game in the league would start in only a few hours and she had just been crying from feeling so overwhelmed. But both of us had forgotten, too consumed by the lust that had been eating us alive. I needed her. She needed me.

Paige pulls away from the kiss, long eyelashes blinking at me and pink lips slightly parted. She looked beautiful, like she was already completely out of it.

“Need to feel you ma, please let me,” she whines, looking for any sign of approval on my face. “Need to feel this pussy around my fingers.”

No one had ever spoken in such a filthy way to me before. And it drove me crazy. The sheer dirtiness of the things Paige said, the way her voice turned hoarse and whiny, the way she really, truly behaved like she would die unless she got to fuck me. I had never experienced it before. Everything about it intoxicated me, my soaked panties prove of how much so.

“Paige, are you sure this is smart?” I ask, my voice weak and shaky.

“Ion care about smart, need to fuck you before my big game,” the blonde murmurs, beginning to kiss my neck, fingertips rubbing gentle circles on my clit against the fabric. “Please mama, need to make you cum, that’s all I want.”

I let out another whimper, her words winning me over.

“C’mon ma, can feel how wet you are for me. Lemme help baby, lemme take care of you.”

Finally I snap, desperately nodding. Without missing a beat, Paige’s fingers hook around the edge of my panties, pulling them to the side as I stay straddling her, feeling the cool air on my dripping cunt.

“This ain’t right. I gotta see that shit,” Paige murmurs and before I understand what she means, she’s pushing me back, my spine hitting the couch as she remains still, my thighs spread wide for her as she sits in between.

Paige’s blue eyes are nearly blown out black with lust as her gaze travels slowly from my flushed face, to my heaving chest, down my stomach, all the way to the panties slid to the side, finally landing on my core. I swear I have never seen the girl so dazed, like everything around her disappeared, her lips parting further, tongue darting out to lick them.

“Fuck,” she whispers, fingers spreading my lips apart to see my wetness glistening in the lighting of the office. To see my folds and the way I was already throbbing for her. I had never been looked at like that before, yet didn’t feel shy or unsure. Because I could tell Paige was in absolute awe.

“So fucking pretty, huh?” The blonde asks, finger carefully brushing up and down against my folds and clit, making my whole body shiver. She was barely touching me yet I couldn’t fight the whine spilling from my lips. This was so unlike me, spread out in overhead lighting in a room anyone could walk into at any moment with a girl I hadn’t even been out on a date with. But it was the last thing I cared about. I needed Paige Bueckers to fuck me now.

“Paige, fuck me,” I demand, my voice breathy and brows furrowed as I watch her.

A sly grin forms on her lips as she gathers wetness through my folds with ease, beginning to circle my clit lazily. The sound is obscene, caused by how slick I had grown for her in the past few minutes. I moan softly, covering my own mouth and letting my eyes fall closed.

“What do you need? Tell me baby,” Paige coos, but she knows. She can see the way my pussy is clenching around nothing, crying for her, begging to be filled.

“Baby,” I whimper, bucking my hips but the blonde’s free hand brings me down by my thigh.

“Use your words ma.”

“Inside,” I whisper, cheeks growing redder at having to tell the girl with words what I needed from her.

“Yeah? You need my fingers inside your pussy?”

I nod, the words making my arousal grow even more.

“Please,” I add, hoping to hurry the blonde along.

Suddenly, Paige’s fingers slide downwards towards my entrance, circling before two of them begin to break into me, painfully slowly. A loud gasp threatens to spill from my lips but the blonde covers my mouth quickly, her fingers sliding into me all the way.

It’s impossible to describe how good it feels, to feel her touch me like this. The stretch of her fingers making my body tense and relax simultaneously. I was in heaven, surely sex never felt like this before. Only with her.

“Oh fuck you’re so tight,” Paige hisses, beginning to curl her fingers against me. The sound of squelching quickly takes over, only joined with both our moans. My back arches desperately, and I feel myself writhing for more, for the blonde to move faster.

It’s in the moment I’m about to start begging for more, the familiar sound of a keycard being slid against the reader takes over. Someone’s about to open the door. Both of us panic, Paige pulling her fingers away and quickly getting up from the couch as I struggle to get off my back, pulling my skirt down eagerly right as Trey walks in.

“Oh hey!” He smiles widely, oblivious to the heavy breathing me and Paige are both trying to get under control. “Oh Paige! Whatchu doing here?”

“Uh,” she murmurs, fingers still glistening with me before she wipes them on her thigh. “We uh,”

“We were planning that pregame interview! Should we film it soon?” I quickly interrupt, noticing Paige’s flustered expression. The shake in my legs is obvious, so I lean against the wall next to me.

“Yeah yeah, the interview,” the blonde murmurs which makes Trey’s brown eyes light up.

“Well great! Why don’t you go change and we film after.”

Paige glances at me as I do her, both of us trying to ignore the tension in the room that the man seemed to not recognise.

“Uhh yeah, lemme go do that,” the taller girl mumbles and leaves, my heart pounding faster than ever from earlier. As she closes the door, Trey turns to me.

“By the way Zari, we shouldn’t let anyone back here that isn’t part of the team, okay? Linda would freak.”

“Oh,” I say, brushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Trey looks at me for a while, leaning back against the desk behind him.

“You know, it’s okay to be friends with players but I think it’s better to keep things at a professional distance. Don’t wanna be getting too close, you know what I mean?”

I can tell he’s digging for something, trying to get me to fess up. Instead I cross my arms over my chest and nod. “Agreed, shall we prepare the interview?”

“Okay, Paige, stand here.”

Trey is maneuvering the blonde around, trying to find the best lighting as I check my notes over and over, my mind still swirling with all the interrupted moments that are growing tiresome. Paige is fiddling with her hands, staring at anything but me feeling just as frustrated by the interruption.

“Ahh, got it. Zari, would you.”

“Yes,” I murmur and step next to the blonde, a slight awkward distance between us. Every cell in me was itching to get closer, to press into her. I was dying for her. But it wasn’t the time. I had to focus on work. It was just hard to look away from her. That’s it.

“Closer Zari,” Trey chuckles, reaching for my shoulder and pushing me closer to Paige. We exchange an awkward, slightly giddy smile and I can tell the girl is beginning to blush, our shoulders pressing together. The blonde gazes upwards towards the low ceilings of the corridor, trying to kill the smile growing on her face.

“Okay, we good?” Trey asks, and I let out a soft giggle. Paige looks at me and giggles too, confusing the man behind the camera. “Something wrong?”

“No, no, we’re good,” I giggle, looking to the floor. The blonde nods in agreement, licking her lips to stifle the grin.

“Whenever you’re ready ladies,” Trey says, pressing record.

I take a deep breath, turning my eyes to the blue ones beside me. The ones I could get lost in forever. But now wasn’t the time. Not the time Izara. Work.

“I am here with our dear rookie, Paige,” I smile, licking my lower lip and looking away from the blonde, her intense gaze becoming too much. “First game today, how are we feeling?”

Paige kisses her teeth and sighs. “Oh man,” she starts, blue eyes boring into the side of my face. “It feels surreal, I’ve been waiting for this moment my whole life and now it’s finally here. Feelin’ really blessed and fortunate for sure. Playing my first against the Lynx just feels right, you know.”

I watch as her lips move, the way the edges of them curve when she speaks, barely registering the words coming out from how badly I needed her.

“Favourite thing about Dallas so far?” I ask, crossing my arms and smiling up at the blonde. Her blue eyes are sparkling, a slight glimmer in them as she watches me with a smirk. As if the camera wasn’t filming every moment.

“Oh definitely the ribs,” Paige grins, suddenly interrupted by Arike standing at the other end of the corridor.

“Yooo, bro what?!”

Me and Paige both begin to laugh, leaning into each other as we do. My hand instinctively graces her forearm as Trey pangs the camera to Arike.

“Alright, alright. And Arike,” Paige chuckles, making me scoff.

“Oy!” I shout, slapping her arm playfully.

“And you!” She grins, raising her hands in defeat. I can’t help the blush covering my face or the stupid smile stretching across.

“As I should be,” I joke, taking a deep breath and trying to remind myself of the planned questions and of Trey’s watchful eyes. It felt impossible under Paige’s gaze so intensely roaming my face, eye fucking me.

“You’ve got some friends and family in the audience tonight, who are you most excited to see you play tonight?”

The blonde looks at me for a meaningful moment, and I don’t miss what she wants to say. What she’s trying to express with her eyes. What she can’t admit in front of Trey.

“Uhh,” she blinks stupidly, finally breaking eye contact. “Probably my dad, yeah. But I’m excited to play for all the Wings fans too, needa impress them.”

“I’m sure you will,” I smile, my tone clearly flirty yet I don’t even recognise the fact. “Happy game day!!”

“Happy game day,” Paige echoes my words, wrapping an arm around my shoulder just as Trey puts the camera down. Yet the man keeps staring over at the two of us, studying every move, every exchanged look.

“Paige! Go change and let’s start warming up, c’mon!” Chris nods the blonde towards the lockers. I see her eyes turn to me once more, softening.

“Wish me luck ma,” she murmurs, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a hug. I let her.

“Good luck Paige,” I mumble into her eyes, letting go and watching as she walks into the dressing room, leaving me alone with Trey. I could feel nerves bubbling in my stomach, heart beginning to pound in anticipation for the game. The man watches me for a while, deep in thought.

“Zari…. I gotta ask you something,” the man starts, his voice echoing in the corridor. He walks us to our office letting me know this wasn’t going to be a light subject, which made me nervous.

I sit on the desk, my legs hanging off as I cross them and watch the brunette pace around the room for a moment before turning to me.

“Is there something going on with you and Paige?”

Fuck.

I think about lying, looking through my brain for any cover up story. There isn’t one. I was a horrible liar anyway. So I just sigh, looking down before nodding.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean for there to be but I like her. She likes me,” I admit, carefully looking at the man. “Look, it’s nothing though. Nothing serious, just fun.”

“For fucks sake Zari,” Trey sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“Excuse me?” I ask offended. Sure, it wasn’t great, but he was hugely overreacting.

Trey walks over to me and grabs a hold of my hands, stopping much too close to my liking.

“Zari, Linda is very… strict. You know this. But she does not allow anything like this, she must’ve told you? She gave me this big speech too when I came in.”

I blink at him, my lips parting a little. It wasn’t allowed. That’s it. That simple.

“Wh- no she never said,” I murmur. Trey nods, letting out a sigh.

“Zari you have to end it. You could get fired.”

My heart drops, mind starts spinning. I could get fired. Have to go back to the UK. Just like that. Fired. Just because I didn’t have the self-discipline to resist Paige.

“Trey, you’re not going to-”

He shakes his head. “No, of course not. Linda won’t know. But only if you end it now, okay? If she finds out I know I could get in trouble too.”

I look at the walls, covered in pictures of the entire Dallas Wings overtime, faces changing and some persisting year after year. I finally land on this year’s picture, on the blonde standing on the right side, smiling that familiar, wide, charming smile. It didn’t matter how much I liked her, how badly I needed her on me. None of it would matter if I got fired, if I got my visa revoked. I couldn’t do this dance we’d been playing the past month anymore. I had to end it.

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

#so it goes #paige bueckers #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x female oc #wnba x oc

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allthingsfangirl101 · 3 days ago

Text

Friendly Set-Up – Glen Powell

"Plleeeeeaaaassseeee?"

"Pass."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

"He's a great kisser!"

"How would you know?"

I smirked as Sarah's mouth opened and closed. "I've. . . heard from his. . . costars."

"All the more reason not to go out with him," I chuckled as I walked past her and into the kitchen.

"But Y/N," she whined as she followed me. "Just a coffee date. That's all I'm asking for. He was talking to me and the other girls about needing a woman in his life."

"Why would he. . . Actually, I don't care." I shook my head as I started making dinner.

"He told us that he missed taking care of a girl," she continued anyway. "He misses spoiling a girl, calling a girl during his lunch break, and picking up dinner on his way home to her."

"That's very sweet," I sighed, "but I'm not ready for another relationship."

"I know that Jason broke your heart," she said, running over to me. "But Glen is the exact opposite of him. He's just what you need! A pallet cleanser!"

"Sarah, stop!" I snapped a little too harshly at her. "I don't want to go on a date with the actor you put makeup on every morning, okay? I just want to be left alone so I can forget about Jason."

I didn't care that the ingredients were all over the counter. I turned and walked away, grabbed my keys, and got in my car. I didn't have to think about where I wanted to go.

I walked into the bar, sat down at my usual spot, and ordered my usual drink. I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed the tears that begged to fall.

Jason and I dated for almost two years. Over the years, he's gotten a lot less romantic. Finally, I made the mistake of making a small comment about marriage and he freaked out. He left and I got a text the next day saying that we should take a break.

As that bartender put my drink in front of me, I thought about how Sarah described Glen. He wanted a girl in his life. He wanted someone he could spoil. I smiled sadly when I realized it had been a long time since I felt like I was being spoiled by someone.

I shook my head, forcing myself to stop thinking about "what if". Jason broke up with me a week and a half ago. I needed more time to get over it.

"Son of a. . ." I grumbled when I saw my friends running into the bar. "Hi, girls."

"Hi, Y/N," Angela said a little too sweetly.

"I don't want to. . ."

"Would you please go out with him?" Sarah cut me off.

"Girls," I sighed.

"Come on, Y/N," she whined. "He's funny. He's attractive. He's successful. He's the total package."

"If he's the total package, why is he still single?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"He's an actor," Angela shrugged.

"And he can get any girl he wants," I sighed, "so why would he want to go out with me?"

"Oh sweetie," Kelly sighed. "You're amazing. We all instantly thought of you when Glen told us about how he wanted a new girl in his life."

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Sarah asked.

"He'd be lucky to have you," Angela added.

"You're too good for him," Maggie chuckled.

"Look," I cut the girls off, "I just broke up with Jason. I need some time before jumping into a new relationship. Thank you for thinking I'm good enough for a famous actor, but I'm gonna pass."

* * * * *

After A LOT of badgering from the girls, I finally agreed to meet Glen. I told them not to get their hopes up. I was only going and having coffee with the guy to get them to stop begging me. After trying not to overthink my sundress, I headed to the coffee shop that was close to my work and the office building where his current movie was filming.

I gave myself a slight pep talk before getting out of my car. I walked into the coffee shop, my nerves jumping all over. As I looked around the shop, I kept wondering why I agreed to meet a complete stranger. Suddenly, my eyes landed on a guy who looked exactly like my friends described. He noticed me and sent me a shy smile. I took a shaky breath before walking over to him.

"Are you Glen?" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"I'm Y/N, Sarah, Maggie, Angela, and Kelly's friend," I introduced myself. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw him relax. "You don't have to look so relieved."

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Our friends talked you up so much that I wasn't sure if you were real."

"I'm very real," I shrugged with a small giggle. "They probably lied about me though."

"I doubt that," he said, slightly looking me up and down. He looked back up at me and smiled. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"I'd like that," I smiled.

He turned and gestured toward the counter. When I walked by him, he gently put his hand on my lower back. I tried to force the butterflies in my stomach to go away as we went and ordered our coffee.

"Oh my gosh," the seventeen-year-old barista giggled. "You're. . . You're Glen Powell!"

Glen looked at me with a blush on his face and cleared his throat. The girl continued to fangirl, "I am such a huge fan. I love you."

"Thank you," he said politely. "That's very sweet of you."

An older man behind the counter cleared his throat, sending his employee a "manager glare".

"Sorry," she cleared her throat. "What can I get you?"

Glen looked at me and gestured for me to order first. I smiled before turning toward the still-excited teenager. "Can I get a caramel latte?"

"Of course," she smiled. Her face turned pink as she turned toward Glen. "And you?"

"Just an iced coffee for me," he nodded. I started to pull out my wallet but he quickly grabbed his wallet and handed his card to the barista. She giggled as she took his card.

She rang us up and handed Glen his card back. "We'll call your name when they're ready," she giggled. I saw the look on his face slightly shift as he looked around the coffee shop.

"Actually," I jumped in, "can you call my name? We're on a first date and don't want to draw too much attention."

"Of course," the girl said, putting her hand to her hard. "That's so sweet. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Great. They'll be right out."

I followed Glen to the corner table, out of sight of the windows and front counter. We sat down and there was an instant awkward tension between us.

"This is. . ." He said slowly.

"Awkward," I finished for him.

"Exactly," he chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I waved off. "Going on a date that your friends bugged you until you said yes to go on is awkward."

"They bugged you?" He asked, his eyes slightly sinking.

"It's nothing against you," I said quickly. "I just. . . I wasn't sure I wanted to get back into dating."

"Back?" Glen asked.

"Coffees for Y/N?" The barista called. Glen looked at me and hesitated before getting up and getting our coffees. I pulled my hands into my lap and nervously played with my fingers.

"Here you go."

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft.

"Y/N," Glen said after a short beat of silence, "what did you mean earlier when you said you weren't sure if you wanted to get back into dating?"

"It's. . . not something I should bring up on our first date," I said.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

I looked up to see Glen smiling gently at me. "I just broke up with my boyfriend," I admitted.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me sadly.

"Well, technically," I cleared my throat, "he broke up with me. After two years. All because I made a small hypothetical about marriage."

"He what?" Glen asked, slightly surprised. "What an idiot. For what it's worth, you dodged a bullet. He's missing out on an amazing girl."

I smiled weakly at his comment. "You met me like five minutes ago," I chuckled.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "I still think you're amazing."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around my coffee mainly to hide my blush.

"You told me yours," Glen said, making me look up at him. "It's only fair that I tell you my breakup story."

"You don't have to," I stuttered.

"It's only fair," he said with a small smirk. "I was dating an old costar. It got to the point where I was putting in more effort than her. We spent the entire last two months apart. Whenever I called, she didn't answer. And she never called."

"Did you break up with her?" I asked before I could think about it.

"I did," he nodded. He added, "After pictures from her movie leaked of her making out with her costar on the beach."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's terrible. You didn't deserve her."

"You met me like five minutes ago," he said, instantly going back to his earlier self.

"Doesn't matter," I shrugged with a smile on my face.

For the next two hours, Glen and I sat and talked. We talked about our jobs, our family, our crazy friends. The more we talked, the more I started to fall for this guy. Sarah was right. He was extremely sweet. He maintained eye contact the entire conversation and seemed like he was hanging on my every word.

I was explaining my latest project at work when his phone started ringing. By the sigh that left his lips, I could tell that he had a theory for who was calling him and interrupting our date.

"I'm sorry," Glenn said, his smile sinking when he looked up from his phone. "It's my manager."

"Take it," I said. "I don't mind."

"But Y/N," he stuttered.

"It's okay," I said with a small laugh. "Answer your phone, Glen."

"I'm sorry," he whispered before answering his phone. "Hey, Mike."

I busied myself as he listened to his manager.

"What?" He asked, slightly turning away from me. I looked at my hands wrapped around my coffee. "Wait, right now? Mike, I'm kind of. . . I know that but. . . Fine. I'm on my way."

"You have to go?" I asked, unable to stop my voice from dropping.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he said, instantly turning back to me. "I completely forgot I have an interview in two hours."

"I'm going to have to get used to sharing you with the rest of the world, aren't I?" I fake pouted, making him laugh.

"Oh, please," he smirked. "My girl never has to share me."

As we stood up, Glen grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. "I really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N."

"I really enjoyed getting to know you, Glen," I smiled. My breath got caught in my throat when Glen's eyes dropped to my lips. Before I could wonder whether or not he was going to go for it, he went for it.

Glen leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I gently grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. When we broke the kiss, we both had matching smiles.

"Does this mean you'd accept the offer to a second date if I asked?" His voice soft.

"If you asked."

* * * * *

After our date, each of the girls called and begged me to go to brunch so I could tell them all about it. I fixed my dress as I got out of my car and headed into the restaurant. The second I walked to our table, my friends all jumped up and started bombarding me with questions.

"How was it?"

"Did he buy your coffee?"

"Did he pull out your chair?"

"Did he hold your hand?"

"Did you guys talk for hours?"

"Did he ask you out again?"

"Did he kiss you?"

"Why aren't you answering our questions?"

"Because neither one of you has stopped to breathe," I chuckled.

"Okay," Sarah said in her bossy tone. "Enough questions. Just tell us how it went."

"It was fine," I shrugged.

"Fine?!" They all screamed in sync.

"Just fine?"

"Come on."

"You gotta give us more than that."

"Sorry," I said, standing up, catching all of them off-guard.

"Where are you going?" Sarah pouted.

"Hey, gorgeous."

The girls gasped as Glen walked up, wrapped his arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek. "You ready for lunch?"

"Absolutely," I smiled at him. I looked back at my friends and saw all of them smiling like crazy people.

"You girls don't mind me stealing Y/N away from you, do you?" Glen asked the girls.

"Of course not!" Sarah said loudly. "Take her for the rest of the day."

"Subtle," I scoffed as I rolled my eyes. Glen just laughed as he led us out of the restaurant. When we got to his car, he stopped and pulled me into his chest.

"You know," he whispered, "when I first told the girls I wanted a new girl in my life, I never thought I'd actually meet a girl I could see spending the rest of my life with."

"The rest of your. . ."

"I know this is crazy fast," he said quickly, "especially since we've only been on one date. . ."

"We texted until like 2 am," I said quickly trying to reassure him.

"True," he smiled. "As I was saying, I really like you, Y/N. And I think that we have something here."

"I think so, too," I whispered. With a smile on his face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips moved in sync.

We didn't care that our friends were watching us from the restaurant window with proud smirks on their faces. Glen broke the kiss but didn't let me go.

"Y/N," he whispered. "I know you're still getting over Jason. But I'd like to help you with that."

"I don't want to use you."

"You wouldn't be using me," he said, shaking his head. "I'd just be helping you through the breakup."

I bit my lip, debating if I really wanted to go for it. "Fine," I gave in. I quickly added, "But only if you allow me to help you through your breakup."

"It's a deal."

#glen powell #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagines #glen po #set it up #twisters #hangman #anyone but you

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starlighttsv · 2 days ago

Text

Lego sets - Paige’s daughter

💌 Syn: paige buys lilah some gifts as a reward for getting good grades

»»— warnings: las!paige - i wrote this way before the draft lottery and was to lazy to change the team and teammates

»»— notes: finally finished bringing stuff over from wattpad!! now i just have to bring stuff from here over to wattpad 😔

»»— word count: 1.6k

»»— pair: paige x daughter!oc || lilah bueckers

Paige, Cameron, Rickea, and Rae all went to target today to get some necessities but Paige was also getting a few things for her daughter, as she had done really good on her spelling test and math test so P wanted to give Lilah a little reward. Paige and Lilah always have mama-daughter dates, and most of those date nights are exactly like this: eating take out or cooking together, baking some type of dessert (mostly already made cookie dough) and building legos while watching some game show on Netflix. It's both of their favorite things to do and they always cherish those nights as they don't get to do it a lot during the wnba season and Paige knew Lilahs gonna grow out of it eventually.

"What about Star Wars?" Rae asks holding up the gaint Darth Vader Lego set "we already did it a month ago" P says not even looking at her, focusing on the Lego boxes in front of her "okayyy what about the Eiffel Tower?" "Did it like 3 three weeks ago" "Stitch?" "A few years ago. Did it my fifth year of college." "Flowers" "have done multiple different ones" "alright we give up" Rickea says as she got tired of them all listing things off, just to immediately be shut down by Paige

Paige ignores them as they keep complaining about anything and everything, just looking at the legos trying to find some good ones, that P knows Lilah will love. That's when she sees a Moana set and a Disney Castle set, which is perfect for Lilah. Paige grabs those and put them in the cart that her and Rae are sharing, Cameron and Rickea sharing another cart.

"Finally! Can we go now?" Rae exclaims "No. I need to get a few more things. You guys can go to the front if you want, I'll meet you when I'm done." Paige says trying to make them not be annoyed anymore, as they all have been at the store for almost two hours, getting stuff they all needed or wanted in their houses. All of their feet's are starting to hurt and not mention they all have been stopped by fans like every 5 minutes.

"No, we're not gonna leave you alone when we've been stopped like 100 times already by fans. What else do you need to get? And why was it so important you get legos today?"Cameron cuts in before any of the other girls could "I need to get some cookie dough, tru fru, milk, chicken tenders, mac and cheese, carrots, mixed fruit, and a stuffed animal. And to answer your second question, Lilah got a B+ on her spelling test and a C+ on her math test, so we're gonna have a mama-daughter date night. The legos, Tru fru, and Stuffed animal are her reward and the food is her favorite meal, and we always bake something on m&d nights." Paige tells them "wait she passed? Those were the ones she was struggling with right?" Rickea asked "yeah, I was helping her study words in the locker room." Cameron cuts in before Paige can say anything "yeah she was struggling with those subjects a lot, so that's why I'm giving her a reward. She doesn't know that I know yet, as her teacher told me so it's gonna be a surprise."

"Alright so let's split up, me and cam will go get the cookie dough, milk, tru fru, and chicken tenders. You and Rae go get the stuffed animal, carrots, Mac and cheese, and mixed fruit. We can meet up at the self checkout. What kind of cookie dough and tru fru?" Rickea adds

"Chocolate chip cookie dough and for tru fru, bananas and strawberries." Paige answers making Rickea nod, and start turning around making Paige and Rae start doing the same, heading to where the stuffed animals are. "Hey Paige, wait" Rickea stops and turns around making P and Rae also do that "when you’re getting the stuffed animal, get some mini brands and lol dolls. I know Lil likes that stuff, My treat." Rickea continues "alright. Are you sure?" P asks "yep, I'm positive." Rickea says making Paige nod "ok, Thank you." Paige replies making Rickea nod and turn back around,- both groups going in different directions to get the rest of the stuff.

They all met up like planned and payed for their own stuff, Paige dropped them off at Cameron's apartment as they’re all getting ready together to go to a bar, and Paige took all her store bags home and set up what could be set up, before leaving to go pick lilah up from school. On the drive back to their home P told lilah that there was a surprise waiting for her making her get excited and start asking and guessing what it was. Obviously Paige wouldn't tell her.

When they got home Lilah was rushing Paige to unbuckle her and get her out of the car, at least Lilah still followed those rules when P knew she really wanted to just run to the house. Paige lifted her out of the car and set her on the ground "don't run yet, I need to get a few things from the car alright?" Paige asks her making Lilah immediately pout, Paige has learned to just ignored that though.

P made her way to the trunk and got her bag and lilahs school bag and then shut the trunk, lilah was still bouncing on the heels of her feet "cmon mama, I wanna see the surprise"

"Alright Alright, come here" Paige says chuckling slightly. P picks lilah up and put her on her hip and locks the car with her keys, then started making her way to the elevator to take the two of them to their apartment

Lilah is still trying to guess what it is and has listed the surprise about 4 times but P lied each time and said she was wrong. They make it to their apartment and Paige set Lilah down in front of the door, grabbed the keys out of her pocket - unlocking and opening the door for Lilah, which she immediately runs through.

She looks in the kitchen first and doesn't see anything as P put all the food away when she dropped the bags off, then she goes into the living room. Bingo!

She sees the legos, stuffed animal, lol dolls, and mini brands set up on the table, she sees the blankets and pillows that Paige brought out and put on the couch, and she sees their favorite game show "the circle" loaded up on the tv

"MAMA AND DAUGHTER DAY?!" She yells mispronouncing daughter "yep! You did so good on your math and spelling test, I figured you deserved a reward. Rickea bought you the lol dolls and mini brands though so you’ll need to thank her next time you see her. "

"I will! Thank you mama!" "Your welcome princess! But there is more, for dinner we are gonna have chicken tenders, mac and cheese, mixed fruit, and carrots. For dessert I got chocolate chip cookie dough, and another part of your reward is tru fru." She just squealed and ran up hugging Paige’s legs, P bent down a little and put one of her hands on Lilahs head and the other on her back, trying her best to hug Lilah back with the gaint height difference

"Alright babe, why don't you go get changed into your pjs and we will start dinner once you come back?" "Okay!" Lilah says and then runs off to her room

Paige goes to the kitchen and gets the chicken and mac and cheese out, filling a pot with water and turning the stove on. Once that's done P goes to her room and changes into her green plaid pj pants and a UConn zip up jacket. Walking back into the kitchen Paige sees Lilah wearing her Olaf onesie Azzi bought her so they could match, standing on her foot stool, leaning on the kitchen counter watching the water

"You ready to make dinner?" Paige asks her while walking closer and looking into the pot of water, seeing that it is boiling "yeah!" Paige opens the box of Kraft Mac and cheese and hand it to her "dump that in the water"

After they made dinner and ate it, they put the leftovers away and got comfortable in the living room, setting blankets and pillows on the floor and making a giant bed/ pillow type thing in front of the living room table

Lilah decided she wanted to open the lol dolls and mini brands now, so while she was doing that Paige opened the Disney castle Legos and started reading the instructions

"Mama look" Lilah said excitedly making Paige look over at her and see her holding a few small food items from the mini brands "wow baby, you’re gonna have your very own pantry soon" that made Lilah giggle a little bit. Once she saw what P was doing Lilah put the other stuff away and pointed to the tv "circle?" Paige asked even though she knew what Lilah wanted, already grabbing the remote and turning on Netflix while she was nodding.

Once the shows turned on they both start working together (pretty much just Paige, while Lilah plays with the legos) to build the Disney castle. Eventually it was built and they cleaned up their mess, laying down on the couch and Lilah laying on Paige’s chest. Paige turned on a Disney movie for Lilah but she fell asleep holding onto Paige’s jacket not even 15 minutes in.

🏷️ @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @authentic-girl03

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x fem!reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader #uconn x reader #paige bueckers x oc #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x daughter!oc #starlighttsv’s works ✍️

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immortalmolloy · 1 day ago

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Daniel was shocked and he froze for a moment. He could feel the way the boat rocked gently and hear the soft sound of waves lapping at the ship’s hull outside. The room was lit very dimly by a single lamp in the corner.

It was surprising to hear Mina say that he was a light in her life. Daniel had always seen himself as more of a black hole. Hearing Mina say how much he meant to her and how special she thought he was, it meant so much to Daniel. It made him want to be everything she needed. And it made him think maybe he didn’t always need to run to Armand when he was desperate to hear kind words and praises. Mina would assure him. He wanted to do the same for her.

He was usually good with words but this was a complicated subject that hurt him too. Daniel felt shame for things he had done too. He had been so sure back then that he knew who the monsters were. Now he doubted that. Violent memories haunted him in his sleep more often than he’d like to admit.

He was so grateful for Mina. He didn’t know how she was exactly before they had met, only knew what she had said and what he saw in her mind. He understood choices she had made. He couldn’t understand completely but he didn’t blame her for things she had done. She made hard choices. She was strong and brave. She survived and endured.

Daniel had changed a lot too since he met her. He owed her everything. She saved him again and again. He could never repay her for how she rescued him from the grave he was determined to crawl in. She had given him purpose and shown him true love that he had been searching for. She helped him to grow into the person he was meant to be.

“I can’t pretend to know it all,” Daniel said finally. “I do understand how it is to feel like the worst kind of monster, to have your past choices weighing on you suffocating you slowly, to be haunted by painful memories in your sleep. I see their faces. The monsters. The ones we hunted. Some of them deserved it-at least, I think they did. But others... I used to believe I was the hero in the story. I thought I knew who the monsters were. And now, I don't know anything. I’m always going to Lestat for reassurance. Lestat tells me all of the terrible things he’s done and that’s the only way I stop hating myself.”

Daniel sighed. “We can’t forget these things we’ve done. You don’t have to carry it alone, though. We have each other always and forever. I may not have known you so long ago but I do know you now. I know your heart and mind and soul. We were meant to find each other. You are my soulmate for all eternity. You're one of the bravest, strongest people l've ever known. You made hard choices because you thought it was the right thing to do and maybe you didn't always get it right. Maybe neither of us did. But you still deserve the world, Mina. You are amazing and you deserve love and to heal from this stuff. I’m here for you. I’ll help you.”

He kissed her forehead and held her close. "I don't know where I'd be without you. I don't even know who I'd be. You gave me purpose, Mina. A reason to fight, even when I wanted to give up. You’ve shown me love. I could never thank you enough for how you rescued me and saved me. If I’m a light in your life then you’re the whole damn sun in mine.”

“So, you want to interview vampires, so you?”

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larluce · 3 days ago

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First I wanted to say hello and tell you that I love your works. They really have me on the edge of my seat every time I read them.

Second. Can you imagine that Merlin, in some new alternative universe, for some reason, upon arriving in Camelot, arrives with a baby? It's all still a Merthur ending, it should be noted.

Like, we know that Merlin was already a bit of an outcast in the village for the reason that nobody knew who his father was and even more so because strange things were always happening around him.

The situation gets much worse when he finds a crying baby in the middle of a burnt tent near the village.

Will and his mother try to help him for a while, but with the visits of the evildoers to the village becoming more and more frequent, Merlin and the baby have no choice but to go to Camelot.

And so the adventures begin!

Only now Arthur wonders if they can make crowns for babies, because he is willing to marry Merlin and legally adopt the baby as his own.

And Morgana… well, she and Gwen enjoy dressing up the baby in all the clothes from her old dolls. Not to mention that she notices that by taking naps with the baby she no longer has nightmares.

The knights become, in some way or another, glorified nannies. The servants and maids must chase after a baby who never stops causing mischief in the castle.

And Merlin just wants to survive colic season and potty train his baby… and everything would be easier if there weren't a murderer or a resentful wizard trying to kill Arthur every 3 minutes.

First, thank you so much for the compliments! 🥹🤧❤️

About the concept. I love it! I don't think going to Camelot to live would be Merlin or Hunith's first option for a baby that can't control their magic at all. So I firmly believe Hunith would send Merlin with the baby there so Gaius can take them to a druid camp so they could take refuge there.

The problem is, before Gaius can do so, Merlin is made the prince's personal manservant. Merlin can't exactly deny the king and he does need the money to take care of his baby so he decides to stay to Gaius dismay. Gaius and Merlin try to keep the baby hided at first so they take turns taking care of her (in my mind is a her) in Gaius' tower in secret. It works out for some weeks but then the plague (Nimueh's Afanc) happens and Arthur searches Gaius' tower.

Arthur: (enters Merlin's room) Merlin: (running inside) Arthur, wait! Baby: (sitting on the bed, looks up at Arthur and gives a cute giggle) Arthur: (Turns to Merlin slowly) Merlin? Merlin: Yeah? 😅 Arthur: Why is there a baby in your bed? Merlin: (in panic, shouts the first thing that comes to his mind) She is mine! Arthur: ... Arthur: What? 😧 Merlin: (repeats more quietly but more firmly) She is mine. (runs to hold her up and embraces her) She is my daugther. Arthur: (thinking) But... but he is so young. (says) Where's the mother? Merlin: (with pain as he remembers the burnt tent) She passed away. Arthur: (his heart hurting for Merlin) I'm so sorry. But Gods Merlin, why didn't you tell me? I wouldn't have given you so many chores if I knew... (thinking) And I almost sacked you. I almost sacked a single father with a baby in arms! (says) And why the hell are you hiding her? Merlin: I... wasn't sure if I could keep her. Arthur: Of course you can keep her! What kind of master do you think I am? Knight x: (from outside) Sire? Arthur: (shouts back) In a minute! (to Merlin) What's her name? Merlin: Brigitta. Arthur: (repeats softly and smiles) Brigitta.

From then on, Arthur doesn't give Merlin as many chores and raises his salary considerably. And then everybody else finds out about Briggitta and go "I've only met Brigitta for a day and a half, but if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself".

Some events would change, obviously, and some would remain the same but with a new perspective. I don't think Merlin would have time to make Lancelot a fake seal, for example, having to look after Brigitta and all. I can imagine Lancelot becoming Brigitta's first unnofficial babysiter, then Arthur makes it official so poor Lancelot has a salary and a place to stay in Camelot. The Poisoned Chalice episode would remain the same, except Arthur would be more in panic mode and desperate because MERLIN HAS A DAUGHTER! BRIGITTA CAN'T LOSE HER FATHER TOO!

I think it would be The Beginning of the End where Arthur and Morgana find out about Brigitta's magic and Merlin's magic. Not because they discovered her, surprisingly, but Merlin decided to tell them all the truth about her and himself after seeing how they saved Mordred. Also, since Merlin saw Brigitta's possible future in Mordred, he wants to leave Camelot too to keep her safe. Screw all what the dragon told him about destiny, his daugther comes first.

So Merlin and Brigitta are about to leave with Mordred with the druids. They are having a heartfelt goodbye with Arthur, who scorted them there, but then...

Brigitta: (cries very loudly in Merlin's arms and the earth starts shaking a bit) Merlin: I know, I know, baby, but we have to go. Brigitta: (cries more loudly and extends her little arms to Arthur) Arthur: (barely containing his tears) I'll miss you too, Biddy. But this is the best for you- Brigitta: ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (open his eyes wide) What did she just said? Brigitta: (still crying and making grabby hands at him) ATHU, ATHU, ATHU! 😭 Arthur: (tears roll down his eyes) She said my name... Merlin, she said my name! (grinning widely) Let me hold her one more time, please! Merlin: (gives Brigitta to Arthur) Druid leader: (urgently) We need to leave now! Merlin: (looking at Arthur and Brigitta tenderly and smiles) Leave, we'll stay.

I also can imagine Nimueh going after Brigitta's life instead of Hunith, and having to confront not only a very furious Merlin, but a feral protective prince.

That's how far my imagination can go. If you have any ideas of how Merlin and Arthur or other character would act in other episodes now with Brigitta in the equation, share it in the comments or reblogs. I'll be happy to read you 🥰

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merthur prompt

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micia-posts-stuff · 16 hours ago

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I think what interested me the most about chapter 210 wasn't really the fact that Donovan has mind reading powers (I mean, that too obviously), but mostly the fact that now Anya knows. Because if it was only revealed to Loid, he would have easily dismissed it and things wouldn't have really changed for the characters for a while, it would have only been interesting for the reader. But since Anya knows that makes it waaaayyyy more interesting to me and I'm so glad Endo went in this direction. This creates so many interesting dynamics.

(more under the cut, because it was getting pretty long)

Since Anya knows telepathy exists and will probably believe Donovan is a telepath like her, then she also knows Twilight is in great danger. She knows they met and can probably suspect Donovan knows about the mission (I mean it's what Loid thinks about pretty much 24/7). So will she try to convince him that telepathy exists to save him? But that would compromise her, especially after this comment

I don't think Anya is ready just yet to reveal her powers to Loid.

Will she try to convince him telepathy doesn't exist with her usual silly antics to protect her secret? I can see that, but as I said, she also has the understanding that the evil boss shouldn't know that her papa is a spy, so what does she do to help him?

And she told Damian she's a telepath! Even if he didn't believe her, is she gonna be worried he thought about it in his father's presence? Will she ask him if he met his dad during the vacation and what did he think about in his presence? If Damian gets annoyed and doesn't answer, will she reveal to him that his dad is also a telepath? Maybe he won't be convinced when she tells him, but Demetrius thinks so too, so if Damian gets to know that his esteemed older brother also believes in telepathy then maybe he will actually start to believe it himself.

Or maybe she'll just play along with what Damian said about cartoons in the hope that he doesn't think about it, but that would be a risk because she can't really control what he thinks about and she would have no idea if Damian already slipped up during winter vacation. If she somehow gets to know that Damian didn't involuntarily reveal her secret to Donovan yet, will she actively try to make him avoid his father? I mean not that is hard, Donovan is not exactly involved in his children's life, but before she was hoping Damian and Donovan would become closer so that her papa could get close to Donovan, but now it would be the opposite.

And the experimentation! Will she connect the dots that Donovan was probably involved? If she does then she will realize that Damian accidentally revealing her secret would be an even bigger risk for her, they could take her back to the lab if they know where she is. So it's even more important that she makes sure Damian doesn't slip up.

And just the fact that Donovan was behind the experiments. How will she react? We could finally get her backstory! See what she went through because of Donovan.

There is a possibility that Donovan is not actually a telepath, although I think he is, but regardless, I think the fact that Anya will most likely believe it already opens up a ton of interesting possibilities imo and I'm very excited to see where the story will go.

#anya forger #donovan desmond #loid forger #twilight #damian desmond #demetrius desmond #spy x family spoilers #spy x family #sxf #sxf 210 #sxf spoilers

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iamquiantrelle · 2 days ago

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VIRGIN TERRITORY (chapter 5) ────── iamquaintrelle

# pairing: aurelien tchouameni x black oc (☔️✨💕)

# tags: @whoevenisthiz @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @deonn-jaelle @sucredreamer @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro @rougereds @f1-football-fiend @judectrl @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbrii @sailurmewn @rainbowsparkelsunshine @lbchi @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes

# summary: she's been his pa for almost a year and every day is a struggle to function around him, but he'll never see her more than that...will he? and what will happen if he finds out she's also a virgin? masterlist.

The Atlanta airport is different after months of European terminals. Everything's louder, more familiar, more home. Leila's dragging her designer luggage (a gift from Josette on her birthday) past Popeyes and Chick-fil-A, the smell making her realize how much she's missed proper Southern food.

Her mama nearly drops her church hat when she walks through the door unannounced, clutching her chest like Leila's appearance might send her straight to Jesus.

"Lord have mercy! What are you doing here? Is everything okay? Did that boy—" Jeanna Mae's already reaching for her phone, probably to alert the whole prayer circle about her prodigal daughter's return.

"Mama, breathe." Leila drops her bags by the door, taking in the familiar scent of sweet potato pie and those vanilla plugins. The house looks exactly the same – family photos covering every surface, that ancient TV guide that hasn't been opened since streaming existed, her daddy's old recliner still in its spot of honor.

"Don't tell me to breathe when you show up looking like somebody broke your heart." Her mama's fingers are flying across her phone screen. "And I bet it's about that captain of yours. The one who won't admit his feelings."

"Mama—"

"Don't 'mama' me. You flew across an ocean to run from that boy. I raised you better than that."

Before Leila can defend her life choices, her phone explodes with notifications:

Yolanda: BITCH YOU'RE HOME??? Kenzi: Emergency drinks at Slim & Husky's in 30. This is not a request Tasha: Don't even think about saying no. We saw your IG stories Yolanda: Already ordered the wine. GET HERE

Her mama's already pushing her toward the stairs, that knowing look in her eyes. "Go change. Your girls are waiting. But don't think this conversation is over. I want to know everything about this William boy too."

"How do you even—"

"Baby girl, I might be old but I know how to use Instagram. Now go. But we're having a proper talk when you get back."

An hour later, she's squeezed into a booth at Slim & Husky's, surrounded by her best friends since middle school and enough pizza and wine to fuel a proper intervention. The restaurant's busy for a weeknight, filled with that specific Atlanta energy she didn't realize she'd missed.

"So let me get this straight," Yolanda leans forward, wine glass dangling dangerously while her bamboo earrings catch the light. "You got TWO fine African men fighting over you? In EUROPE?"

"They're not fighting—"

"Girl, please." Kenzi rolls her eyes so hard they might get stuck. "One's bringing you Lebanese food while the other's having whole breakdowns in tunnels? That's fighting. That's fighting in multiple languages."

"And you're here because…?" Tasha raises an eyebrow, already reaching for another slice. "Because from where I'm sitting, you running from good dick. Multiple good dicks."

"I needed space," Leila adjusts her glasses, a nervous habit that makes her friends exchange looks. "From both of them. From all of it."

"Space?" All three look at her like she's lost her European mind.

"From the situation," she clarifies. "It's complicated."

"What's complicated about your captain being clearly in love with you but too scared to say it?" Yolanda's got that look that means she's about to start speaking truths nobody asked for.

"Or about you dating his teammate to make him jealous?" Kenzi adds, signaling for more wine. "Because baby, that's what you're doing."

"I am NOT—"

"You are." Tasha cuts her off, voice gentle but firm. "And baby? That never ends well. Trust someone who knows."

"Plus," Kenzi adds, "that William seems sweet. He doesn't deserve to be your rebound."

"He's not—"

"He is." All three say it in unison, years of friendship making them a well-oiled truth-telling machine.

"Look," Yolanda sets down her wine glass like she's about to deliver a sermon. "You got these two fine men – both rich, both fine as hell, both clearly interested. One's bringing you food and treating you right, while the other's having whole emotional breakdowns over you but won't say why. And instead of dealing with it, you flew home to eat pizza with us."

"The pizza is good though," Leila mutters.

"Not better than French dick," Tasha coughs into her wine.

The truth of it all hits different over pizza and pinot noir in her hometown, surrounded by friends who've known her since she was wearing Limited Too and dreaming about her first kiss. Maybe she did run. Maybe she's still running.

But maybe she needed to come home to figure out where she's actually trying to go.

"So what are you gonna do?" Kenzi asks softly.

Leila looks down at her phone – no messages from Aurélien, but three from William checking if she landed safely.

"I don't know."

But that's a lie.

She does know.

She's just not ready to admit it yet.

"Well if it isn't the finest women in Atlanta."

The voice makes Leila's entire body cringe before she even looks up. Torrance Johnson – high school quarterback turned local gym trainer – is standing at their table with that same smile that definitely worked better ten years ago.

"Torrance," Yolanda's voice could freeze hell. "Don't you have some protein shakes to blend?"

But he's already focused on Leila, eyes doing that slow scan that makes her wish she'd worn a turtleneck. "Damn girl, Europe's been good to you. When'd you get back?"

"She's not staying," Tasha cuts in. "And she's taken."

"By two men," Kenzi adds helpfully, earning herself a kick under the table.

"Two?" Torrance's eyebrows shoot up. "Nah, can't be. Our Leila? Miss Voted Most Likely to Marry Her Books?"

Something about the way he says it – that hint of dismissal, that suggestion that she couldn't possibly have multiple men interested – reminds her exactly why she left Atlanta in the first place.

Her eyes catch on his deliberately distressed jeans, probably bought that way from some boutique in Buckhead, and suddenly all she can think about is Aurélien. How he dresses like every Atlanta rapper's Pinterest board come to life, all designer streetwear and chains that probably cost more than Torrance's trainer fees.

"You should go," she says finally, not even looking up from her wine. "Your protein shakes are calling."

"Come on now—"

"She said go." Yolanda's voice carries enough attitude to make several nearby tables look over.

He leaves, but not before dropping his card on the table with a wink that probably works better on girls who haven't seen him throw up at prom.

"The audacity," Tasha mutters, reaching for more wine. "Acting like you ain't out here with whole European footballers fighting over you."

"They're not—"

"Girl, if you say they're not fighting one more time," Kenzi cuts in. "We've seen the videos. Your captain looked ready to commit murder in that tunnel."

"And William?" Yolanda adds. "That's not just trying to get some, that's husband behavior."

Leila's phone buzzes – another text from William asking how her first night home is going. Nothing from Aurélien, but Cama has sent her a video of him absolutely destroying the training ground equipment.

"You know what's funny?" she says finally, still staring at her phone. "Aurélien dresses exactly like these Atlanta boys trying to look hard. All ripped jeans and chains and-"

"Baby," Tasha interrupts gently, "the fact that you're thinking about how he dresses tells us everything we need to know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," Yolanda starts, "that you flew across an ocean to get away from your feelings but you're still noticing his clothes."

"His very expensive clothes," Kenzi adds. "Not whatever Fashion Nova collection Torrance was trying to rock."

"Can we not—"

"Compare them?" Tasha grins. "Too late. We've all seen your Instagram stories. We know exactly what kind of men you're working with now."

"And neither of them," Yolanda adds, "is anything like these local boys trying to act like they're something. Your captain might dress Atlanta, but baby? That man's got that real money energy. And William?"

"Pure class," Kenzi nods. "The way he looks at you in those photos? Like you hung the moon or something."

"Meanwhile Aurélien looks at you like he's trying to figure out how to possess your soul," Tasha observes. "In a hot way."

"Y'all are doing too much," Leila mutters, but her cheeks are warm.

"Are we though?" Yolanda challenges. "Because from where I'm sitting, you've got two whole meals fighting over you in Europe while Torrance 'Peak in High School' Johnson is trying to get your attention with some jeans he probably bought at ASOS."

"The difference," Kenzi adds, "is that Aurélien's probably wearing jeans that cost more than Torrance's car."

"And William's probably never worn distressed anything in his life," Tasha laughs.

"Can we talk about something else?" Leila pleads. "Anything else?"

"Sure," Yolanda grins. "Let's talk about how you're going to handle going back to work. That's coming whether you're ready or not."

The reminder sits heavy in her stomach. One week left of pretending she's not running from her feelings. One week of Georgia comfort before facing reality.

Her phone buzzes again – a text from her mama this time:

That boy called me again. The captain. Asked how you were.

She turns her phone face down.

The chatter at the table felt like a lifeline, a reminder that even with the chaos of her love life — or whatever this was — her friends never changed.

"Alright, y’all," Leila starts, her tone light but her fingers nervously taps her glass. "If we’re gonna dissect my life like this, at least give me something useful. Any advice for handling… all of this?"

"You mean William?" Yolanda grin like she’s been waiting for this moment. "Or both of them?"

"Both," Leila admits, earning a chorus of gasps and exaggerated cheers from around the table.

"You kissed him, though?" Kenzi presses. "William? Wilo? What was it like?"

Leila took a sip of wine, letting the anticipation build. "It was… nice," she says, feigning nonchalance.

"Nice? Girl, come on!" Kenzi groans.

"Fine," Leila relents, a sly smile creeping onto her lips. "It made my kitty purr."

The table erupts, laughter bubbling up loud enough to turn a few heads in their direction.

"Big purr!" Yolanda cackles, fanning herself dramatically.

"And yet, you’re still hung up on Aurélien," Tasha says knowingly, swirling her wine like she had the upper hand in this conversation. "You can’t hide that."

"Because he’s got her heart," Yolanda teases. "William might’ve gotten a kiss, but Aurélien’s the one she wants to risk it all for."

"Okay, okay, but," Kenzi cuts in, her tone shifting into unsolicited-advice territory. "If you’re really gonna give Wilo a shot, you need to bring your A-game. Like, head game on ten."

Leila groans, her head falling into her hands. "Why do I feel like I’m about to regret asking this?"

"Because you probably are," Yolanda teases, ignoring her protest. "But listen up. The trick with a guy like William? You gotta be confident. Show him you know what you’re doing. And eye contact. Always."

"Exactly," Kenzi agrees, raising her glass. "And if he gets all quiet or grabs your hair—"

"I’m leaving," Leila interrupts, though she stayed firmly in her seat, face buried in her hands.

"You’re not going anywhere," Tasha says with a smirk. "This is gold, and you know it."

"I can’t believe I’m having this conversation," Leila mutters, peeking up from her hands.

"Believe it, baby," Yolanda says, taking a sip of her drink. "And take notes, because we all know William’s got that 'nice boy' energy, but Aurélien?"

"He’s giving 'break-the-headboard' energy," Tasha finishes matter-of-factly, earning another round of laughter.

Leila tries to glare at Tasha, but the heat rushing to her cheeks betrays her. "Y’all really have no chill, do you?"

"Not when we’re right," Yolanda says, sliding her phone across the table. "Speaking of Aurélien, have you seen this picture of him on the pitch? Look at his tongue."

Leila glances down reluctantly, only to be met with an image of Aurélien mid-game: shirt clinging to his torso, a sheen of sweat glistening under the stadium lights, his tongue peeking out in what was either concentration or defiance. His face was as expressive as ever, eyes lit with determination.

"You’re telling me this man isn’t whispering filthy things in French while making you see God?" Yolanda asks, her tone almost academic.

"I’m saying nothing," Leila says, snatching the phone and flipping it over. "Y’all are too much."

"But we’re not wrong," Kenzi shot back. "Aurélien looks like he’d talk you into doing things you didn’t even know you wanted to do. Just with that voice."

"And that tongue," Yolanda adds, grinning devilishly. "Girl, do you know how expressive his face is? Like, come on. He’s not just scoring goals on the pitch."

"Alright, that’s enough!" Leila protests, trying to keep her composure despite the riotous laughter around her.

"Enough?" Tasha raises a brow. "Girl, we’ve barely started. You can’t tell me you’ve never thought about it. About him and that—"

"I haven’t!" Leila lies, her voice is a little too high-pitched to be convincing.

"Uh-huh." Yolanda wasn’t buying it. "Listen, we’ve all seen the way he looks at you. That’s not just casual interest. That’s 'call out my name when you’re about to come' energy."

Kenzi nearly spat her drink. "I mean, facts, but damn, Yolanda, say it with your chest."

"She already did," Tasha quipps. "And she’s not wrong. Leila, you’ve got two literal snacks fighting over you. One’s sweet, one’s spicy. You’ve gotta at least taste one."

Leila groans, her face in her hands again. "Y’all are insufferable."

"But you love us," Kenzi says, reaching over to squeeze her hand. "And we love you. We just want you to live your best life. With both of them, if that’s what it takes."

"Big facts," Yolanda says, raising her glass. "To Leila living her best life, with Aurélien, William, and whoever else makes her kitty purr."

Leila couldn’t help but laugh, raising her own glass in surrender. "Y’all are ridiculous."

"Ridiculously right," Tasha says with a wink. "Now, tell us more about that kiss. Did he grab your waist? Your face? Both?"

And just like that, the teasing continued, leaving Leila both mortified and comforted. If nothing else, her girls always had her back, even if it meant roasting her into oblivion in the process.

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

Leila was halfway through her third slice of pizza at Slim & Husky’s when her phone buzzed on the table. The low hum of conversation and the warm scent of garlic and cheese filled the space, but the message on her screen stole her focus.

Wilo: Can you come to London next weekend? I miss you.

She stared at the words, her stomach twisting in a way that had nothing to do with the food. Her friends were busy splitting a cinnamon roll flight, oblivious to the sudden weight in her chest.

"You good?" Kenzi asks, nudging her shoulder.

Leila blinks, quickly locking her phone. "Yeah. Just Wilo being… Wilo."

"Oh, what’s he saying now?" Yolanda leans in, her curiosity obvious.

"Nothing important," Leila mutters, waving them off.

Her friends gave her knowing looks but didn’t press further. Leila took another bite of pizza, forcing herself to focus on the moment, the laughter, the easy camaraderie. But her phone felt heavier in her pocket now, like it was daring her to check it again.

Later that night, back at home, the scent of fried chicken and collard greens still lingered in the air from dinner. Leila leans against the counter, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea that had long gone lukewarm. The hum of the dishwasher filled the kitchen as her mama wiped down the table, and her daddy sat at the head, finishing the last of his sweet tea with a satisfied sigh.

"That hit the spot, baby," he says, patting his belly. His trucker hat was tipped back on his head, a little smudge of grease still on his hands from unloading earlier.

Her mama smiles, but the look she gave him was clear: We need some girl time.

He caught the silent signal and grins, pushing back his chair. "Alright, I know when I’m not needed. Leila, you make sure your mama doesn’t go pulling out another project this late. I’m gonna grab a shower."

"Yes, sir," Leila says with a small smile, watching him leave the room.

Her mama waited until the sound of the shower started before she finally spoke.

"You got something on your mind, girl?" her mama asks, setting down the dishcloth.

Leila hesitates. "No. Just tired."

Her mama raised a brow but didn’t push. Instead, she grabbed a glass of water and leaned on the counter across from Leila.

"You get my text about Aurélien calling me today?" she asks, her tone deceptively casual.

"Yeah."

"Wanted to check on you. Asked how you’ve been," her mama says, sipping her water.

Leila frowns. "What did you tell him?"

"Told him you’re grown, handling your business," her mama replies easily. "But he sounded worried. Said he missed you.”

Leila’s chest tightens, but she kept her expression cool. "He didn’t say that to me."

"Maybe he’s scared to," her mama says, fixing her with that all-knowing look. "Men don’t always say what they mean, but they show it in other ways."

Leila snorts, shaking her head. "He’s all talk, Mama. If he cared, he’d show up. William’s the one actually trying."

Her mama’s lips quirks up in a small smile. "Maybe. Or maybe you’re just scared of what it would mean if Aurélien came through. Scared to let him in."

Leila looks away, her throat tight. "I’m not scared."

"Sure you’re not," her mama says lightly, pushing off the counter. She paused to kiss the top of Leila’s head. "Just don’t be so busy keeping your options open that you miss out on what you really want."

As her mama walked out of the kitchen, Leila’s phone buzz again.

Wilo: Please, Leila. I just want to see you.

Her thumb hovers over the screen, but her mind isn’t on Wilo. It was on Aurélien and the way his name had sounded coming from her mama’s lips. The way her heart had skipped just a little at the thought of him calling to check on her.

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

Leila only has a few more days at home, and it’s messing with her head. She thought coming back to Atlanta would give her clarity, but instead, it feels like everything is weighing on her even more. The whole thing with Aurélien and Wilo — it’s making everything harder.

Should she quit being Aurélien’s PA to be with Wilo? Or just quit being a PA altogether and finally figure herself out? But if she does quit, she’s not going back to corporate. Hell no. That life nearly drained her dry the first time around, and she’s not making that mistake again.

Still, the idea of starting fresh sounds good — better than being stuck in the middle of whatever this is. But then Wilo texts her again, and curiosity gets the better of her. What could this thing with him really be? Would it work if she gave it a real shot?

It’s late, but she picks up her phone and finally replies.

Leila: I’ll come see you this week.

His response comes almost immediately.

Wilo: This week? You sure?

Leila: Yeah. I’ll let you know when I land.

She doesn’t give herself time to overthink it. By morning, her ticket to London is booked, and by the afternoon, she’s already on her way to the airport. Her mama gives her one of those tight hugs that says, I know you’re up to something, but I’ll let you figure it out. Her daddy tells her to be safe, his attention mostly on the game playing on the living room TV.

The flight is smooth, and she spends most of it bouncing between nervous excitement and second-guessing herself. By the time she lands, her resolve is still intact, but she’s made one decision for sure— she’s not staying at Wilo’s house. That’s too much temptation, and she needs to be as clear-headed as possible.

Her hotel is chic but understated, the kind of place that feels luxurious without screaming it. She texts Wilo her room number once she’s checked in, her pulse kicking up as she sends it.

Not even twenty minutes later, there’s a knock at her door.

When she opens it, Wilo is standing there, dressed down in a hoodie and jeans, but somehow still looking like he just stepped out of a GQ spread. He’s holding a bouquet of white roses and grinning like he’s relieved she actually showed up.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice low and warm.

"Hey," she replies, stepping aside to let him in.

The air between them feels heavy but not uncomfortable. He hands her the flowers, his fingers brushing hers in a way that sends a jolt straight through her.

"I wasn’t sure if you were serious," he admits, watching her as she sets the flowers on the desk near the window.

"I was," she says, turning to face him. "I just… needed to make sure I was doing this for the right reasons."

"And?"

"And I’m here," she says simply, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Wilo steps closer, his gaze steady and unflinching. "I’m glad you are."

Leila feels her heart skip, but she keeps her cool, determined to stay clear-headed and focused. She’s not here to get swept away — at least, that’s what she tells herself.

"So," she says, breaking the moment before it gets too intense. "What’s the plan?"

He grins, his dimples making an appearance. "I thought we’d just wing it. Unless you’ve got something in mind?"

"Wing it works," she says, grabbing her jacket.

As they head out, she can’t help but wonder if she’s walking into something that will make everything even more complicated — or if, for once, it might actually lead to something real.

Leila and Wilo keep it low-key, staying under the radar as much as possible. No fancy dinners or crowded hotspots — just little moments that feel easy. They grab coffee at a quiet café tucked into a side street, the kind of place with mismatched chairs and a barista who doesn’t even blink at Wilo’s recognizable face.

Later, they wander through a park, laughing about something stupid Wilo said. It’s simple, and it feels good — so good that Leila starts to think this could actually work.

At one point, they find themselves in a small record store. Wilo flips through vinyls, holding one up every now and then with a smug grin. "You’d love this," he says, handing her a Prince album.

Leila rolls her eyes but takes it anyway, her fingers brushing against his for a second too long. It’s moments like this that make her question everything she thought she wanted or didn’t want.

As they sit down for a late lunch at a quiet bistro, she sneaks a photo of Wilo, mid-laugh, the light catching just right on his face. She uploads it to her Close Friends story, tagging it with a coy little caption: London’s treating me well.

Her Close Friends list is carefully curated. Aurélien isn’t on it — he never has been — but Jules and Cama are. And if she knows anything about them, they’re definitely going to report back.

And she doesn’t care.

Part of her wants them to. She wants Aurélien to see the photo, to know she’s here, to feel something. Everyone keeps saying he has feelings for her, but he’s never done anything to prove it. No grand gesture, no confession, not even a drunken text. If he has feelings, he hides them well, and Leila’s tired of guessing.

As the day goes on, though, her phone stays silent. No text, no DM, nothing. She tries to push it out of her mind, focusing on Wilo instead. He’s attentive, sweet, and clearly into her, and she knows she should be grateful for that.

But as much as she tries to stay present, Aurélien lingers in the back of her mind.

When she gets back to her hotel that evening, Wilo walks her to her door, his hand lingering at her lower back. He leans in to kiss her, but she stops him with a soft smile.

"Not tonight," she says, her voice gentle but firm.

Wilo steps back, nodding. "I get it," he says, his tone understanding. "Goodnight, Leila."

"Goodnight," she replies, watching him walk away before stepping into her room.

As she sits on the edge of the bed, scrolling mindlessly through her phone, she starts to wonder if it’s time to cut her losses entirely. Maybe Aurélien’s silence is her answer. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for something that’s never going to happen.

She exhales sharply, tossing her phone onto the nightstand. Whatever happens next, she knows one thing for sure: she’s done chasing after a man who won’t meet her halfway.

Leila wakes up to the soft hum of her phone vibrating against the nightstand. She groggily grabs it, squinting at the screen. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Training’s at nine. Match starts at six. Rest up so you don’t fall asleep in the stands.

She rolls her eyes but smiles, setting the phone down. Today is her last full day in London, and as much as she’s enjoyed the ease of her time with Wilo, the reality of going back to Madrid looms like a cloud over her.

By the time she’s up and moving, Wilo’s already at the training ground, leaving her with a slow morning to herself. She takes her time getting ready, picking out a sleek but casual outfit for the game: a fitted cream sweater tucked into high-waisted jeans and ankle boots. Makeup just this side of "I woke up like this" but definitely intentional and finally using her contact lenses (bout goddamn time).

As the day creeps toward evening, she grabs an Uber to the stadium. She’s buzzed into the VIP entrance, her name already on the list, and escorted to her seat in the family section. The energy inside the stadium is electric, fans chanting and waving scarves as the teams warm up. She watches Wilo out on the pitch, his warmup jacket zipped up to his chin as he jogs and stretches. He looks calm, focused, and seeing him like this — so in his element — makes her chest tighten in a way she wasn’t expecting.

The match kicks off, and it’s tense from the start. Liverpool presses hard, their attacks relentless, but Arsenal holds their own. Wilo is sharp on the ball, threading passes with precision and orchestrating plays like he was born to do it. Leila watches, captivated, her hands gripping the edge of her seat every time he makes a dangerous run or intercepts a pass.

At halftime, the score is still 0-0, and the tension in the stadium is palpable. Leila scrolls through her phone, trying to distract herself, but her notifications are quiet. She had half-expected a message from Jules or Cama, but apparently, they’ve decided to keep their mouths shut or maybe Aurélien just doesn’t care.

The second half is even more intense. Liverpool finally scores, and the stadium goes silent except for the away fans celebrating. But Arsenal fights back, and in the 50th minute, Wilo delivers a stunning assist that leads to an equalizer. The crowd erupts, and Leila finds herself on her feet, cheering and clapping like she’s been an Arsenal fan her whole life.

When the final whistle blows, the game ends in a 2-2 draw. It’s not a win, but it’s a hard-fought point, and the energy in the stadium reflects that.

After the match, she’s escorted to the family area. She spots Bukayo Saka almost immediately, his bright smile unmistakable as he chats with a group of people. He notices her standing off to the side and makes his way over.

"Hey, you’re Wilo’s friend, right?" Bukayo asks, extending a hand.

Leila shakes it, her lips curving into a polite smile. "Yeah, Leila. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. He’s been talking about you all week."

Her cheeks warm at that, but she keeps her composure. "Hopefully, only good things."

Bukayo laughs. "Yeah, don’t worry. All good things."

They chat for a bit, Bukayo’s easygoing nature making the conversation flow effortlessly. He’s mid-sentence when someone else calls out to him, and he waves before excusing himself. Leila glances around the room, her eyes landing on a familiar figure — Ibou Konaté.

Ibou catches her gaze and raises an eyebrow. "So. You and Wilo, it's serious, huh?"

She rolls her eyes. "Don't start."

He chuckles, those famous dimples appearing. "Brussels was interesting. Aurélien wasn't exactly subtle about his mood."

Leila freezes. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on," Ibou says, leaning in. "You think Les Bleus don't talk? After those Israel and Belgium matches? Aure looked like he was one bad pass away from committing murder every time Wilo was mentioned." His tone is knowing, just this side of teasing. "He's not gonna like this. Not one bit."

"Ibou—" she starts, a warning in her voice.

He holds up his hands. "Just saying. Some captains get… particular about things." The way he says it makes it clear he's talking about Aurélien specifically. "Wilo's a good guy. But Aure? Man's complicated."

Leila can't help the small laugh that escapes. "Tell me about it."

She chats with Ibou for a few more minutes then he gave her a hug before he left. Her phone then buzzes. A text from Wilo.

Wilo: Where you at?

She types a quick response: Family area. Waiting on you.

A few minutes later, he appears, freshly showered and dressed in casual streetwear. His eyes find hers instantly, and he makes his way over, his lips curving into a soft smile.

"Tired?" he asks, sitting down beside her.

"Not really," she lies. In truth, the emotional weight of the day — of the entire trip — is starting to catch up with her.

"Good," he says. "I want to take you out for one last drink before you leave."

She hesitates, but only for a second. "Okay," she says, her voice steady.

They leave the stadium together, slipping out a side exit to avoid the lingering fans and media. The bar he takes her to is quiet and intimate, tucked away in a corner of the city she doesn’t recognize. They sit in a cozy booth, nursing their drinks and talking about everything and nothing.

For a moment, it feels easy — like they’re just two people enjoying each other’s company without the weight of the world pressing down on them.

But as the night winds down, the reality of her impending departure settles heavily between them.

"Thanks for today," she says as they stand outside the bar, the cool night air nipping at her skin.

"Anytime," he says, his eyes searching hers.

She knows she should say more — explain how much she’s appreciated his kindness, his patience, his effort — but the words catch in her throat.

Wilo steps closer, his hands finding her waist in a way that feels both casual and deliberate. "Can I take you back?" he asks, his voice low and warm.

She nods, and just like that, they’re walking back to her hotel. The streets are quieter now, the city winding down around them. Leila keeps her hands in her pockets, but Wilo’s presence beside her feels grounding, a steady reminder that for tonight, she doesn’t have to figure everything out.

At the hotel entrance, she pauses, not quite ready to say goodbye. "You don’t have to walk me all the way up," she says softly.

"Didn’t plan to," he teases, though his smile is gentle.

Still, he lingers. He tilts her chin up with a finger, his touch light, testing. When she doesn’t pull away, he leans down and kisses her. It’s soft at first, a question she answers without hesitation, leaning into him like she’s been waiting for this all night.

His hands slide to her hips, pulling her closer, and for a moment, she forgets everything — Aurélien, the uncertainty, the nagging voice in her head telling her this is a bad idea. All she knows is the warmth of Wilo’s lips against hers, the way he tastes like the pint he ordered earlier, the way he makes her feel wanted.

When they break apart, she’s breathless, her heart pounding. "I should…" she starts, but the rest of the sentence never comes.

"You should," he agrees, though there’s a glint in his eye that says he knows she won’t.

Panic creep into her thoughts, uninvited but impossible to ignore. Wilo is right here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. Why is she still holding back?

"Do you want to come up?" The question slips out before she can stop it, her voice quieter than she intended.

Wilo studies her for a beat, searching her face for something —hesitation, regret, a reason to say no. Whatever he finds seems to satisfy him, because he nods. "Yeah," he says simply.

The elevator ride to her floor is silent, the air between them charged. By the time they reach her room, her nerves are buzzing, though she doesn’t quite know if it’s anticipation or anxiety.

Inside, she tosses her bag onto the chair and turns to face him. He’s already close, closing the distance between them in two strides. This time, his kiss isn’t soft or questioning - it’s confident, urgent, like he’s been waiting for her permission all night.

Her hands find their way to his shoulders, then his chest, sliding under the fabric of his shirt. His skin is warm, his muscles taut under her touch. He groans softly against her lips, the sound sending a shiver down her spine.

"Leila," he murmurs, his voice rough. It’s not a question, but it feels like one, like he’s giving her a chance to stop this before it goes too far.

But she doesn’t want to stop. Not tonight. Not when everything feels this good, this right.

"Don’t think," she whispers, her words muffled against his lips, feeling a pull to give in even though her mind is screaming at her to stop.

It feels too good — his mouth on hers, his hands now sliding under the hem of her sweater, fingertips brushing her skin in a way that sends a bolt of heat straight through to her kitty. For a second, she can forget everything. Forget the uncertainty, the guilt. Forget Aurélien and the pressure of what she’s supposed to want, what she’s supposed to feel.

Her heart beats faster, and the only thing that matters is the way Wilo’s kiss deepens, pulling her closer as if they’re both drowning in each other, but even as she gets lost in the sensation, the thought of what this means for later creeps up, a whisper in her mind.

Stop before you do something you’ll regret, her inner voice warns, and it’s almost a shout against the moment. She should pull away, tell him this is a mistake, that she’s not ready to complicate things more than they already are.

Yet then, the conversation with her girls back in Atlanta echoes in her mind. Because why should she keep hanging on to something that wasn’t even clear? Wilo is here, and he’s been nothing but good to her. He’s showing her attention — something she craves, something that’s been missing for too long.

She breathes in, pulling away just enough to look at him, her hands resting on his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her palms. Her voice is barely a whisper, but it carries a weight. "I’m not... I’m not gonna go all the way," she says, almost like a promise, though part of her wishes she could just let go.

Wilo doesn’t pull away, his eyes searching hers, gauging her intentions. "Just a taste, then?" he murmurs, the question laced with a little teasing but also an understanding. He isn’t pushing her. He’s letting her make the call.

A part of her wants to shake her head, to step back and stop this before it goes too far. She knows better, knows she shouldn’t be using him to fill a gap that Aurélien has left wide open. However, Wilo’s not asking for anything more than what she’s willing to give him right now — and, hell, maybe she needs it. Plus, he got her panties wetter than a Slip N' Slide.

She smiles a little, though it’s hesitant, her mind still conflicted. "Yeah," she says softly, her fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "Just a taste."

And in that moment, it feels like a decision.

His lips are back on hers instantly, and the kiss deepens with an urgency that’s different now, like they both know the boundaries but are still curious enough to see how far they can go. His hands are sliding back to her waist, tugging her closer until she can feel the heat of him through their clothes.

Wilo’s hands are warm, exploring, but careful. He’s taking his time, sensing her hesitation, allowing her the space to pull back if she needs it. But she doesn’t. Instead, she lets herself go, leaning into the moment as his lips travel to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. Every kiss feels like a promise she isn’t sure she’s ready to make, but she’s here, and she’s going to live in the now. She’s not sure how much longer she can keep pretending she doesn’t want this, doesn’t want him.

Leila can feel her pulse quicken as Wilo’s hands slide down her arms, gently tugging at the fabric of her sweater. The air between them crackles with the same electricity that had been building ever since her first day in London.

With a soft tug, he pulls the sweater over her head, leaving her in just a bra. She can feel the cool air of the hotel room against her skin and Wilo’s eyes don’t leave hers as he strips off his own shirt, revealing his toned chest and abs. She feels her breath hitch, the sight of him sending a wave of heat through her.

He notices her reaction, a slow smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You okay?" he asks, his voice low and teasing.

Ho-ly shit. Leila nods, her heart pounding in her chest. "Yeah," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just… wasn’t expecting all of that."

He chuckles softly and gets closer, his hands resting gently on her hips before his lips find hers. Leila kisses him back, feeling the pull of desire stir within her.

They stumble backward onto the bed, their lips still tangled in a kiss, the heat between them intensifying. She can’t help but enjoy the feel of his hands on her body, the way his fingers move with intention, his touch confident yet tender. When his hands wander, brushing along her sides and up her back before copping a feel on her titties, his dick pressing against her thigh; she arches into him instinctively. His touch makes her feel seen, cherished, in a way she hasn't felt in a long time.

Leila wonders what would happen if she let go entirely. What if she just let herself be free of all the things that tie her down?

Even in the heat of it all, a small part of her pulls back. She remembers the life she’s built — the career she’s worked for — and wonders if she’s willing to risk it all for something that might be temporary.

Her phone starts vibrating. Once. Twice.

One of Wilo's hands is tracing lazy circles along her lower back. "Ignore it," he murmurs, his lips still brushing the shell of her ear.

She does — until the phone goes nuclear. Ping. Ping. Ping-ping-ping. A digital storm that practically rattles the walls.

Wilo raises an eyebrow, pulling back just enough to glance at her phone. "Damn," he mutters under his breath.

Her screen is chaos. Four missed calls. Multiple texts. And, of course, a voice note from Aurélien.

The timing? Almost comical. Almost.

Leila swipes open the messages. They’re an avalanche — each one more urgent than the last. Her thumb hovers over the voice note, hesitant but not enough to stop her. A ticking time bomb of potential drama.

She looks at Wilo, a flicker of guilt passing through her, before her eyes drift back to the phone. Wilo doesn’t move, just watches her, unreadable.

"Give me a sec," she mutters, pulling away from him and sliding off the bed. The space between them feels too wide now, too obvious, but she ignores it, heading for the bathroom.

Door closed. Her back pressed against it, she lifts the phone to her ear.

Aurélien's voice hits her like a slap. Broken. Fragmented. Each word jagged, like he's stumbling through a maze of his own making.

"Leila, I—" His breath hitches. "I can't—" The silence is thick, filled with the things he's too scared to say. "Je suis—"

Her heart, traitorous as ever, speeds up. She presses the phone tighter to her ear, her own breath shaky in response to his.

Another ping. A text. She opens it without thinking.

First, a video. Aurélien's hands. His long fingers dancing over the piano keys in that way she knows too well. The melody — raw, unfinished. Like he’s trying to patch a hole in the air between them.

Then, a screenshot. A letter. A confession. Handwritten, messy, vulnerable. It’s almost too much to take.

Her breath catches.

The world outside the bathroom door feels distant. Almost unreal. Her mind pulls her back, urging her to breathe, to think. But the words on the screen? They’re the kind that push all logic aside.

Her finger hovers over the phone, but she can’t bring herself to delete the message. She opens it again.

The letter fills the screen, and it makes her chest tighten as she reads.

"I don’t know how to say it — words always fail me when it matters most. I’ve tried so many times, but each time, the words slip away like sand between my fingers. So this time, I’m writing it down. Maybe that’s all I can do. Maybe it’s enough to be honest.

You’ve become the quiet in my chaos. The calm in my storm. You’re the one I think about when I’m too tired to think about anything else. The one I reach for when I feel like I’m losing myself. But I never said it. And I should have. I should have said it, Leila. I should have been better at telling you that you matter, that you're my rock, more than just okay.

Maybe it’s too late now. But please know, it’s never been anyone else but you.

I’m sorry for not being brave enough before. But I’m here now. I’m ready to fight for this, if you are.

Aurelien."

She gasps as she finishes reading. His words, they hit different than before. She’s used to his confidence, his charm, his ability to make everything feel effortless. But this? This is him. Vulnerable. Honest. The rawness of it leaves her heart aching in places she didn't even know were sore.

It’s a love letter in its truest sense — one that doesn’t gloss over the mistakes, but lays them bare. The kind that you don’t often hear. And for the first time, she feels it. He’s finally saying the things he should have said long ago.

But is it too late?

The question sits heavy on her chest, and she hates that she even has to ask. She wants to be angry. She wants to throw his words back at him and walk away. But she can’t. She doesn’t know if it’s because she’s been holding on to him, or because she’s scared of what this newfound honesty means. All she knows is that his words have shattered the wall she’s been building around her heart.

Aurelien’s been her whole world for so long. Maybe she’s been waiting for him to catch up, to finally see her the way she’s always seen him. But she’s not sure she has the strength to wait any longer.

She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to clear her mind. The cool air in the bathroom doesn’t help. Neither does the soft knock on the door.

"Everything alright?" Wilo’s voice is low, gentle, and when she doesn’t answer immediately, he pushes it open just a fraction.

Her heart skips at the sight of him. He’s standing there. He doesn’t need words to understand what’s going on. He can see it in her face, in the way her hands are trembling slightly as she holds the phone.

"I’ll be fine," she says, her voice a little too sharp. It’s not his fault. None of this is his fault.

Wilo doesn’t press. He just steps into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bathtub, his gaze steady, like he’s giving her the space to breathe and figure it out for herself.

She stares at the phone again, knowing she can’t keep going back to the message. But it’s impossible to look away from it now. His words are etched in her mind, replaying over and over again. She thought she was over him. That she could move on, that the pieces would fall into place. Yet now?

She’s not sure.

Finally, she slides the phone back into her pocket, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"I don’t know what to do," she whispers, more to herself than to Wilo, but he hears her. He always does.

"You don’t have to decide right now," he says softly, but there’s a certain weight to his words. "You’re allowed to take your time, Leila."

Her chest tightens at the gentleness in his voice. He’s not pushing her. Not demanding answers. This isn’t about picking between him and Aurelien. It’s about what she wants, what she’s willing to fight for.

And the truth is, she’s tired. Tired of waiting, tired of not being seen, tired of trying to make things fit where they don’t.

But the letter… the letter is the first time he’s shown up for her, even if it’s a little too late. She doesn’t know if it’s enough to make up for everything, but it’s a start.

Leila takes a deep breath meeting Wilo’s gaze for the first time, really looking at him. He’s patient, understanding. And in his eyes, she doesn’t see the same questions that have been haunting her.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "For being here."

Wilo doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to. Instead, he pulls her gently back into his arms, and for a moment, she lets herself feel the warmth of his presence, the steadiness of him.

But in the back of her mind, Aurelien’s words linger.

It’s never been anyone else but you.

Is it too late to believe him?

.............tbd

#quainwritings #quain’s masterlist #aurelien tchouameni #aurelien tchouameni fanfiction #aurelien tchouameni x reader #aurelien tchouameni fanfic #aurelien tchouameni fic #footballer x reader #footballer x oc #real madrid fanfic #virgin territory

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domiiomii · 2 days ago

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It is interesting to me how we don't actually see much of Viktor's life in Zaun besides his interaction with Singed but it is clearly something he carries deeply with him. One could think maybe Viktor hated Zaun, he seemed to isolate from other kids, or think he felt resentment that because of his birthplace he became ill, however none of that seems to be true because from the start he was always pushing to make the hextech available to the people of the undercity and when he gets his own power his first instinct is exactly that, to go back home and help those who have been ignored, who need it the most, who are just like him.

Perhaps it is not so much about growing up in Zaun but rather that Piltover made sure that he knew he didn't belong there. He knows he is an outsider, in every way, he says it when he meets Jayce and describes himself as a "A poor cripple from the undercity", which is very peculiar because we don't see anybody else in the series, despite the multiple characters from Zaun who are disabled, speak like that or seem to have those thoughts because disability is such a commonality there.

Viktor's "insecurities" if you want to call them that don't come out of thin air but out of the way he was clearly treated in piltover, him not wanting to speak publicly during Progress Day is sad sure, but it is not just because he saw his existence as "less than", but because he clearly was reminded of it constantly. It is not that he lacked the confidence, he clearly believes in himself, he knows his abilities, but he also KNOWS he won't be taken seriously, either because he is from the undercity or because he is disabled.

This very point is made clear through the scene with Mel when she argues for making hextech weapons, it is such a harsh reality check of Viktor's place in piltover. Viktor's voice doesn't matter at all to those in power, no matter how brilliant he is, no matter how much he has changed their lives. Mel doesn't even look at Viktor, she doesn't talk to him directly, Viktor is talked over by Mel and Jayce who are again literally standing over him while he sits down, the whole scene has the two of them having a conversation with Viktor in the room but ignoring him. Mel doesn't even try to argue her point with Viktor because to her Viktor's thoughts and opinions don't matter at all. In the end she tells Jayce and Jayce only "The decision is yours".

Another particular point is how she tells Jayce only "The peace is already broken Jayce, I'm only asking you to prepare to defend your people." YOUR PEOPLE meaning piltover and again all this being said right in front of Viktor an outsider, a man from the undercity, discussing how they will use the technology he helped developed against HIS OWN PEOPLE, people just like him. Very important detail here is that right after this interaction Viktor goes to the undercity and asks Singed for help after he realizes piltover will never help him, he goes back for help the only place he can get it because despite how much Piltover has benefited from Viktor's mind, he is never welcomed and his thoughts on what his work should be used for are not heard at all, everything of value is taken from him then he is left to die.

It is very funny how Piltover is regarded as this "beacon of progress" when you see how they treat their own population of the undercity where they don't even see them as equal citizens. This very point reflects in how Jayce is able to climb the social ladder while Viktor is always relegated and eventually even his name is scrapped from the technology he helped develop, he is a stranger in his own "city".

Talking about Jayce is also worth mentioning that, aside from Sky (also from the undercity), Jayce is the only person in piltover we see who cares about Viktor and the point is not lost on me that he comes from a lower much smaller house (not that his relationship with Jayce is perfect don't get me started on the "You were never broken Viktor" thing, that is a post of it's own). The relation of Viktor to the other elites of piltover we see is just bleak, Mel as established completely disregards him and even when he is at death's door I don't think she cared about him, she cared that Jayce cared about Viktor.

And then the worst of all, Heimerdinger who by all means should have been Vitkor's first ally as his professor is actually so quick to dispose of him and without a second thought and tell Viktor to destroy the technology that could very well be the only possibility to save him. The difference in how Himmerdinger acts with Ekko and Viktor is night and day, he denies Viktor any help to figure out how to save him while he "sacrifices" himself for Ekko's time machine. Now, how is a time machine not as dangerous as magic? I don't understand but this makes sense in the context that Viktor's life as a disabled person from the undercity seems to be established to be of less value.

For better or for worse piltover made sure that Viktor never forgot where he came from so him returning and helping the people who would never get help otherwise, people just like him, was the only path he could really follow.

On a personal note I find it so sad that the very clear class divide line in the plot was flatten in favor of “This is not about ideologies or territory, this is about saving humanity” when the very reason Viktor even became what he became and took the choices he did to what he thought was the best to save as many of the people like him as possible IS because of that class divide and it is because of the way piltover treated the undercity because of the pollution that made him sick and because of the the way piltover ignored the situation of the people they harmed.

#viktor #viktor arcane #my thoughts #jayce talis #jayce #the way viktor is written is a constant struggle between classism and abelism ....#arcane

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the-dao-of-the-zerg · 6 hours ago

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So there's some interesting psychology going on here: namely, the GM is the actual arbiter of all truth. They are omnipotent and omniscient. And when an "NPC" communicates something, they are an abstract concept that cannot actually talk. So what actually happens is that God Herself descends from the Heaven and Declares Exactly Thus. And this bypasses every single human instinct for detecting lies, because most GMs are not training themselves to have micro-expressions and secret tells that they're lying. They are not LARPing this NPC. It is exactly the same person using the exact same tone of voice she used to explain the rules of the game.

So we just naturally assume that of course anything the NPC is telling us. After all, it is the exact same communication channel we used for learning the rules of the game, and you're not off questioning those, are you?

(There's also a lot of cognitive overheard, because in a normal conversation you know what the world is actually like. When an NPC tells you about something, it is quite often your sole source of understanding)

I've generally found it takes about 10 sessions into a campaign before the players start being able to make any sort of reasonable observations of deception. Until then, they're relying entirely on the GM's descriptions (and consequently trusting every NPC)

(spells don't really help, since it's generally considered rude to use them on everyone and the PCs don't know who to question.)

(Skill checks rarely do anything useful here - a random chance to know that it was a lie is perhaps a useful prompt that there are also undetected lies, but it once again doesn't give you any context on where to cast your suspicions)

one problem that i have seen in DND is that if an NPC tells the PCs a certain thing, there is this assumption that

the NPC is inherently telling the truth and cannot lie

the NPC's knowledge is complete and infallible because the assumption is that this DM is using this NPC to convey information directly from the DM

and it irritates the snot out of me.

this doesn't happen all of the time, but it happens sometimes with one of my PCs. i love her, but damn. the way her brain works is unique and sometimes it makes playing challenging - because when things don't work out in the way she assumed they would, she gets frustrated.

like... dude. NPCs can lie. NPCs can have half-truths. maybe they only know half the information - maybe it's true from THEIR perspective based on partial information. maybe they have their own objectives and goals and are trying to manipulate the party.

just because an NPC says it doesn't mean it's true or that it's direction from the DM on how we as PCs should proceed.

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novascharms · 2 days ago

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teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

a.n — double update cause it's a short one + apology for the contents of this chapter word count — 1.4 chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

seven

wednesday, january 29th

"no, i'm telling you, it's real! i read about it." devon pulls on hazel's arms as the four of you walk toward your school building. "someone talking about it in a tiktok video is not reading about it, devon." ivy laughs and devon shoves her to the side. "you believe me, right, y/n?" she turns to you and you're in this weird inbetween place where you can hear them, sort of but your mind is also in a million other places so you don't immediately answer.

"hey?" hazel rests an arm on your shoulder which halts you, "hm?" you ask and look at your three very concerned best friends. "you know we don't have to go, right? we can just..go to my house, get all the strawberry ice cream from the freezer and have a long discussion about ..cryptozoology. devon can tell us about that time she saw the loch ness monster again." she says and you smile when devon mutters something about her experience being 100% real.

"you have a perfect attendance, hazel. we are not going to tarnish that for..a boy. i'm okay." you try to sound convincing, try to convince yourself even because really, it shouldn't suck as much as it does. you knew that rafe somehow reciprocating your crush was wishful thinking. it was stupid to ever even entertain or let the idea play in your mind.

you'd had crushes before, even kissed two guys. once when you were fourteen and once when you were fifteen but looking at them never felt the same way as looking at rafe and you had never even come close to kissing him.

"but—"

"no. let's go." you force the three girls forward. you were first in your class, first in your entire grade, you singlehandedly organise almost every major and minor event at this school, you process all the complaints and changes students want almost weekly, you help your parents at home, you work at a bakery on saturdays, you volunteer on sundays. you are resilient and capable and rafe cameron is not going to bat his eyelashes and break you in one month of knowing him. it just wasn't going to happen. it couldn't.

you could avoid him, you think as you walk into the school building. right? this school was fairly big and truth be told, before you started tutoring, rafe didn't really stand out to you. things could go back to that time. they had too.

the first four hours went perfectly. you passed by the office and helped sandy with some paperwork until class started, then you went to class and were able to avoid him during the break as well.

you got nervous when lunchtime came around. you and your friends usually stayed in school during lunch which meant rafe could just walk up to you in the cafeteria but there were other places you could go. you could go to the green spaces or the common area. maybe even the bleachers in the basketball court though you never really liked the smell in there.

you eventually chose the green space. it was quiet and calm, just what you needed. you and your friends sat down and when you open your bag you realise you left your lunch in your locker. "i left my lunch in my locker, i'll be right back." you tell them and fish your key out of your bag before making your way out of the green space and down the stairs.

when you made it to the second floor, you walked to your locker, keys jiggling in your hands. "y/n?" your heart stopped at the sound of his voice, and the natural course of action when someone called your name was to stop or at least turn but you just kept walking. "uh huh?" you answered.

"hey, hold on!" he called and you heard him start to jog. you start to walk faster. "i..uhh am kinda in a hurry!"

"just wait." he grabs your wrist and whips you around. he looks unjustifiable good again. you force yourself to not make eye contact. "yes, rafe?" you find yourself saying in the most passive tone and his gaze lingers, filled with worry. "what happened yesterday? i texted you like ten times." he's visibly upset—crease between his brows, soft searching eyes boring it yours and it makes you upset and now you want to pinch yourself for being upset because you've created some kind of fucked up parasocial relationship with a guy who has no real interest in you.

"i..just wanted to go home. so, i went home." is the only thing you can come up with. it's technically the truth too. you pull your wrist away from his hand and he watches the action with a pained expression. "did something happen while i was gone? why didn't you come to me? i was going to take you home."

you shake your head nonchalantly dismissing him, "it's fine. i like walking, i barely exercise so i need it. it's absolutely fine." you're already turning around to find your locker but he's grabbing your wrist again, "why are you acting like this?" he's frustrated with you. you understand. you're acting different but you're frustrated with him too. even if you don't necessarily have the right to be. "you know i'm not that smart so stop playing fucking mind games with me."

you frown at his tone but also his choice of words. "you are smart, rafe. you're very smart." you correct, not liking it when he belittled himself. him not believing he was capable or smart was the whole reason he needed tutoring in the first place.

"yet i can't piece together why you're mad at me." he says, his tone displeased and you shake your head, finding his eyes. you find yourself wanting to appease him, wanting to make him feel better. you hate that he's upset, it coils something deep inside of you. "i am not mad. i'm not upset, i just..i didn't want to—" it was baffling how much you struggled to come up with a lie. you weren't a liar, okay? "i-i saw you, i saw..that you were, you were.. and i j-just—" you stammered and threw your head back in frustration.

he stared at you, eyes wide and expecting. "you just..what? how am i meant to fix it if you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"you haven't done anything wrong; if anything it's me. i—"

"you what? you didn't have fun? did someone hurt you?"

"no one did anything." you murmur and it seems to be what pushes him over the edge, "then what's wrong?" he snaps, his apparent annoyance bursting at the seams.

"nothing is wrong. there is nothing to fix, i just wanted to go home so i went home!" you yelled suddenly and rafe along with the couple of people still in the hallway stared at you in what could only be describe as utter surprise. "sorry..i'm sorry." you tried to collect whatever pride you still had and turned on your heel abandoning your food completely.

it started slowly. just slow breaths as you walked up the stairs, then that pit in your throat when you were on the third floor, followed by tears in your eyes that you were frantically trying to blink away on the fourth floor, and when you finally made it to green space, the tears were streaming down your cheeks and hazel was already standing up before you'd even made it to the table. "oh, no, sweetheart," she's pulling you in your arms and the dam just breaks and you're letting out everything you'd been holding in since that stupid bonfire. "it's okay, i'm so sorry, you're okay." her comforting whispers and gentle kisses are muffled and overshadowed by the way you're crying in her arms.

you feel ivy and devon's hands on your back, rubbing slow circles, "we got you," you feel a warm hug from behind and one on the side. you're completely cooped up, unable to even see anymore light, just little cracks. either way your vision is blurry with tears. "i w-wanna go h-home.." you hiccup in hazel's neck and you can feel her nodding. "we'll go home. we're going home."

hazel's parents are surprised to see the four of you home but when they see which state you're in, they barely question it. her mom orders take out, the junkiest junk food they can find, she calls your mom to tell her where you are, you pile onto the couch and they don't mention rafe once. you have a six-hour-long discussion about cryptozoology and the science behind mythical creatures.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

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tokiro07 · 1 day ago

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Ichi the Witch ch.18 thoughts

[Oh What a Feelin' When We're Fightin' on the Ceilin']

(Topics: character analysis - Desscaras/World Hater, speculation)

Oh yeah, baby, this is what I've been waiting for!!! Now this is a ceiling battle!!!

Where Ichi needed to literally knock himself out just to take out the first wave of World Hater's Lancemen, Desscaras was able to do the exact same thing casually AND with style

Iskandar is an absolutely sick Magik design, both beautiful and terrifyingly nonhuman, and it's clearly not even Desscaras' strongest move! She's playing with World Hater, aiming to humiliate and torture him while she systematically searches out his trial, so there's no way her opener is her best move, especially when you consider it doesn't tie into her title as the Abyssal Witch

I said a while ago that Monegold's summary of Togeice was more tell than show and that it didn't really give a good impression of just how skilled Togeice really was since Nishi didn't provide a frame of reference. This chapter, though, is a very effective case of show-don't-tell, as we get a direct comparison between Desscaras, Ichi, World Hater, and even Togeice

Tipping the Powerscales

Togeice was stated to have 16 acquisitions to her name, which, without an established average, must be assumed to be a pretty high number, certainly above average. It was stated in such a way that it didn't seem like Togeice was a record holder, more like a reasonable deviation or two from the mean

Desscaras, on the other hand, when asked directly how many Magiks she's acquired, simply states "who knows? Lost count." Not only does this mirror World Hater's nonchalant dismissal of how many humans he's killed, but it illustrates both Desscaras' skill and her mentality regarding it

As she says this, we can see twenty-five magic stones floating around her, thirty if we assume the ones on her scabbard didn't join the rest. She has Togeice beat by at least nine, but the implication is that there are more we still aren't seeing

And to Desscaras, this is perfectly natural

She's the best, after all. The world's greatest, most powerful Witch. Why wouldn't she have a ton of acquisitions to her name? For her, acquiring a Magik isn't even a source of pride anymore, it's just another rock to add to the pile

If my read here is correct, then that goes back to what I said back in ch.2: Witches don't respect Magiks as sentient beings. If not for the fact that she needs to do so in order to use a spell, Desscaras doesn't seem the type to remember the name of a defeated foe, at least not with how she's presenting herself here

As I see it, this could lead to two very interesting angles. Either Desscaras represents everything that's wrong with the current Witch system, or...

This is a bluff

Poker Face

As I've stated repeatedly, World Hater is an actively dispassionate individual, going out of their way to hide their expressions and executing their goals without emotional investment. When Desscaras cites that World Hater destroyed her home, World Hater retorts that her emotions are worthless, as they nihilistically view the world as destined to fade into nothingness

This is a hilarious thing for the World Hater to say, since they explicitly include "hatred" in that list of worthless emotions, but again, they've never referred to themselves as World Hater, that's just a name that Mantinel gave them

Anyway, Desscaras' detached ignorance of her own accomplishments perfectly mirrors World Hater's ignorance to their own atrocities, which could either be a way to show how similar the two of them are or an explicit dig at World Hater's attitude meant to evoke a response

If the former, then Desscaras is a negative role model for Ichi, one that he needs to surpass to prove that he is correct for how he values life. If the latter, and Desscaras reveals that she does, in fact, know exactly how many Magiks she's acquired and remembers all of their names, faces, personalities, trials, etc., then we'll know that she's not the strongest Witch just because she has the most acquisitions, but because of the dedication and care she put into every single one

Either way, her taunt in this moment makes her feel every bit as powerful as she's been purported to be and then some

And World Hater definitely feels it too

Time To Get Serious

The fact that World Hater has been pushed far enough to be concerned with how many Magiks Desscaras has acquired is already proof enough that they acknowledge her strength, but even without that, it should be clear that she has the power to back up the threat that she's going to take her time experimenting

After all, she's leagues above Ichi

As Desscaras said, Ichi was able to earn World Hater's direct attention with one spell. If World Hater truly didn't view Ichi as a potential threat, they would have just let him fall into the forest and be trampled by the Lancemen without paying him any heed

Instead, they deliberately lift Ichi back up, with the intention of warping him with their own hands. How else could they be absolutely sure that he's dead?

Again, if Ichi could register as a future threat, then Desscaras must register as an immediate threat. And if that's true, then there's no way that World Hater is going to just let her have her way. No, if she wants their trial, she's gonna have to earn it

However, there is one flaw in Desscaras' premise: she believes that World Hater tried to kill Ichi out of fear, but we know better. We saw World Hater's smile last week: they were excited that someone might be able to figure out their trial, they just had to suppress that feeling to focus on the task at hand

With Desscaras, though? They're not going to be able to afford to be casual about this. World Hater is going to need to put their everything into this fight: both their power and their emotions

This chapter was all about giving Desscaras her shine, the Good News phase, but next chapter? It's World Hater's turn: the Bad News phase

I don't think Desscaras is going to die here, but she's not acquiring the World Hater either. No, World Hater is going to show us just how Big of a Bad they intend to be, and what we're going to have to look forward to down the line

Until next time, let's enjoy life!

#ichi the witch #madan no ichi #fouryearsandananime #4y1a reviews

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 1 day ago

Note

okay the we shouldn't turn sebastian in but it has the you don't have all the facts

i love him meme

THIS WAS REALLY HARD FOR ME BECAUSE THIS IS SUCH AN EMOTIONAL SCENE AND IM NOT SURE I DID THE BEST JOB INCORPORATING THE HUMOR OF THE MEME INTO THE WEIGHT OF THE SITUATION BUT I TRIED MY BEST ANON.

Words: ~1,100

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Canon Event Rewrite

The Undercroft was quiet, the usual sense of sanctuary replaced by an oppressive weight neither of you dared name. Ominis paced near the table, his wand gripped so tightly his knuckles turned white. You sat perched on the edge of a crate, arms crossed, watching him with unease. His usual composure had cracked, and the pieces were sharper than you were used to.

“We need to decide what we're going to do,” Ominis said, breaking the silence at last.

You straightened, already dreading where this conversation was headed. “I figured that was why you wanted to meet here.”

He stopped pacing and turned to face you. “I don’t want to lose him,” he admitted, his voice softer than you expected. “But I don’t think we have a choice.”

“You can’t mean that.”

Ominis stopped in his tracks, his blind gaze snapping toward you. “Can’t I? Merlin, look at what he’s done! The spells he’s used. The person he—” He stopped himself, swallowing hard. “He’s crossed too many lines.”

You stood, fists clenching at your sides. “But surely he hasn’t crossed the point of no return, Ominis. Not yet. We can still help him!”

“Help him?” Ominis snapped, a rare flash of anger breaking through his calm demeanor. “He doesn’t think he needs help. He’s convinced himself that everything he’s done is justified, no matter how wrong it is.”

“He was trying to save Anne,” you argued. “You know that.”

“And where does it end?” Ominis demanded, stepping closer to you. “When does trying to save Anne stop being an excuse for using Dark magic? For killing people?”

“He didn’t mean to!” you snapped, pushing off the wall.

Ominis’s face twisted with anger. “That doesn’t matter! He cast the Killing Curse. That’s not something you do by accident.”

“He was desperate!” you argued. “Solomon was threatening him. He panicked and you know it!"

“Panicked?” Ominis repeated, his voice rising. “That’s your excuse? He used Dark magic to murder his own uncle, and you think that’s something we can just brush aside?”

“I’m not brushing it aside!” you cried, stepping closer to him. “But sending him to Azkaban isn’t the answer. You know he wouldn’t survive there.”

Ominis shook his head, frustration written across his face. “He shouldn’t have to survive there, because he shouldn’t have done it in the first place! You’re acting like we can fix this, but we can’t. He crossed a line, and now there’s no going back.”

“There’s always a way back,” you shot back. “We’ve saved him before. We can do it again.”

“This isn’t like before!” Ominis snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “This isn’t him sneaking into the Restricted Section or using a spell he didn’t fully understand. He knew exactly what he was doing when he used that bloody relic, and he knew what he was doing when he cast that curse. He made his choice.”

“He made a mistake,” you said, your voice trembling. “He’s not some monster, Ominis. He’s our friend.”

"Was our friend," Ominis said, his voice breaking slightly.

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “So what, you’re just going to turn him in? Hand him over to the Ministry and let the Dementors destroy him?!"

Ominis flinched, his wand hand trembling. “If we don’t, and someone finds out we’ve been covering for him, they’ll come for us too,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less resolute. “It won’t just be Sebastian they punish. It’ll be all of us. You, me, even Anne. Do you want to see her dragged into this mess, after everything she’s already suffered?”

Your chest ached at the mention of Anne. You knew he was right about the risks, but the thought of turning Sebastian over to the Ministry made you feel sick. “We can’t just give up on him, Ominis. He’s not beyond saving.”

Ominis’s face twisted in anguish. “I don’t want to give up on him,” he said, his voice cracking. “But how do we save someone who doesn’t want to be saved?”

"We will find a way. We will," you said firmly, stepping closer to him again. "We'll pull him back from the edge."

“This isn’t a bloody edge,” Ominis muttered bitterly. “This is a cliff. And if he jumps again, we’re all going down with him.”

You placed a hand on his arm, your voice softening. “We haven’t lost him. Not yet. But if we send him to Azkaban, that’ll be it. There won’t be any hope left. Please, Ominis. One more chance.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his expression filled with doubt and exhaustion. “And if he does it again? If he uses another Unforgivable or—Merlin forbid—kills someone else?”

"He won't."

Ominis stared at you, his face pale and tense, his expression hovering between disbelief and resignation. “You don’t know that,” he said quietly. “You can’t know that.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening. “I do.”

“How?” Ominis pressed, his voice sharper now, almost desperate. “How can you be so certain, after everything he’s done? After everything we’ve seen? He cast the bloody Cruciatus Curse on you and yet you still defend him! How can you be so bloody sure he won’t just do it again?”

"Because I know him, Ominis. And so do you! We know his heart. He’s not a monster. He’s not evil. He’s just… lost. And if we give up on him now, I don’t think he’ll ever find his way back.”

Ominis shook his head slowly, as if trying to process what you’d just said. “That’s not a fact,” he said, his voice trembling. “That’s... that’s not a reason to keep risking everything.”

“It is to me,” you said firmly. "Those are the facts. And I won't give up on him. Because I love him."

Ominis froze, his wand lowering as though the weight of your words had physically struck him. For a moment, it was as if the air had been sucked out of the Undercroft, the silence deafening.

“You…” His voice faltered, and he blinked, his pale eyes wide with shock. “You love him?”

“I do."

Ominis tilted his head back, letting out a long, slow exhale. “For Merlin's sake...” he muttered, though there was no malice in his tone. Just exhaustion. “Do you even... do you realize what you’re asking of me? All because you’re letting your feelings cloud your judgment?”

“I’m asking you to believe in him," you murmured. "Just one more time.”

He turned his head slightly toward you, his expression softening, though the pain in his eyes remained. “You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said again, the certainty in your voice unwavering. “And I think you do too. That’s why you haven’t gone to the Headmaster yet, isn’t it? He’s family to us, Ominis. And you don’t give up on family. Not when they need you most.”

For a long moment, Ominis said nothing. Then he nodded, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Fine,” he said quietly. “One more chance."

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow #fanfic #fanfiction #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy ominis #ominis gaunt #hogwarts legacy sebastian #drama #meme #fix it fic

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starsintheskyandtheeye · 16 hours ago

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"So why the fluff piece," Jimmy asked, leaning up against the shelves by Lois's desk. Since ghosts didn't show up well on camera Perry had him working with Cat on a high society wedding over making the article look like a product of cheap ghost hunting. This was the first time he'd seen Lois, or Clark, since before they'd gone back to what was apparently ghost central station.

"You mean instead of talking about the near literal war going on between LexCorp and half a dozen religions? Or those religions spinning desperately with the fact that ghosts are real and don't want to talk to them? Or something about the scientific discoveries that lead to this mess, or the ones since? Or literally anything other than a fluffy morality piece," Lois answered, spinning slowly in her chair as she did, to stare pointedly at her partner. "I don't know Jimmy, why don't you ask Clark."

Clark smiled beatifically at his partner's sore loser behavior and it showed in his voice as he spoke directly to Jimmy. "Those are the headlines topics in all the other big papers right now, yes. But do you know why those are the big topics?" Clark saw Jimmy's confused look, and Lois's eye roll, and said, "Wait, I'll rephrase, do you know why all the other papers are reporting on the fallout from the news?"

"Ohhhhhh," Jimmy said, understanding. "Very clever CK. We've got the only published interview with an actual ghost, and they're all focusing on boring old humans.

"Still though, why the general fluff instead of a specific point?"

"Do you know how hard it is to interview a teenager," Lois answered, annoyed at the memory. "Much less a dead one," she said, a little more subdued. "We were originally going to focus more on Phantom's life and death, or the nature of the afterlife, or on how exactly the crossing over happened."

"So why didn't you? Those both sound like your usual stuff."

"Like she said, evidently the teenage ability to avoid the subject remains after death," Clark said, remembering the way the kid had managed to politely, firmly, and slightly desperately changed the subject every other time they asked a question. He hadn't heard someone change the subject that many times in one sentence since he'd asked Bruce how Selina was doing on her trip to Themyscira.

"And, much as I hate to pin my name to anything sweet and fluffy," Lois said, "It's the right article to write right now. Public opinion is fickle, showing people the humanity of these guys important. You've seen how much emphasis LexCorp is putting on the dangerous aspect and those mad scientists having so much of their work focused on studying them like animals."

"This changes the tone," Clark said, picking up the thread where Lois lost it to future story threads. "People will read it because it's the first ever verifiable interview with a ghost. And while they're reading it they'll see something a lot calmer than anything else being published right now. A story about a different culture, and a very relatable person on the face of it.

"It makes sense," Jimmy acknowledges, "but I'd hate to be in between Lois and her next story. Especially if she goes after Luthor like I heard Perry talking about." Lois focused on Jimmy at that, with a hint of the look that made him so concerned for her next story subject.

"Did Perry okay me to write another piece directly about Luthor?"

"Not sure, I just heard him saying something about the Ghost Investigation Ward with your name, his, and 'inevitable.'"

Lois's grin was downright predatory. Jimmy winced a bit and looked to Clark to support. Clark was smiling softly at his partner as she whipped her chair back to her desk to begin typing.

"Oh that reminds me Jimmy, did you get those pictures of LexCorp's water treatment facilities? Perry's busy and I think he'll be okay with it if I pick one to go with my article about lead pipes in Metropolis."

"Yeah CK, I got them like you asked, a couple where the sign is front and center and a couple where it's mostly pipes with a few branded junction box type things. I'd go with the pipes, it looks technical and gets your message across more subtly."

Clark grinned a smaller version of Lois's scary smile. He thought a moment then told Jimmy. "You should go with Lois next time. You're the best photographer I know. I'm sure you can get something usable, or at least interesting from the ghosts."

"Just Lois? Not you both?"

"Probably not no. Superman was there last time, and said that he'd be working a lot in Metropolis soon," Clark coughed a bit then said, "Apparently he went with us to take a look at what LexCorp was doing. We found some leads so I'm going to be staying here to report any developments as they happen."

"I can't decide if you're a great guy for giving Lois all the scoops on literal ghosts or a very smart guy for finding a way to keep all the scoops on what our own literal alien celebrity is doing."

"He's a menace and I'm so glad you're finally noticing Olsen," Lois chimed in without looking up.

"Oh definitely a great guy," Clark said. "Just a simple farm boy right here."

Respect for the Dead

By Lois Lane and Clark Kent

1,436 words

By now most of the world has been shaken by the news.

Ghosts are real! And ghosts are in danger! The original publication written by Lois Lane can be found here but we are not here to follow that well trodden avenue of discussion.

Here at the Daily Planet we have elected to focus on speaking to the ghosts themselves, rather than debate their existence alongside our fellow papers. During the hunt for the new source of Kryptonite that sparked this discovery Lois Lane made contact with one Danny Phantom. Originally he chose to anonymous but since the outpouring of support from much of the world he has since chosen to come forward publicly.

Given that the ghostly teenager is operating as a hero similar to our own Superman much of his personal history could not be shared. What was safe to share however was very different from what this reporting team had been expecting.

We had gone in prepared to hear the story of what caused a ghost that looks like a schoolboy to lead a life of ghostly vigilantism.

What we got was sweetly sarcastic individual giving us amusing anecdotes of his start as a hero, descriptions of the stranger habits he's gained since his death, and many many tips on how to politely interact with a ghost. At our confusion (who knew there were so many different types of ghost!) Phantom went on to explain and correct several common misconceptions about ghosts. So without further ado; here are the highlights of that discussion.

We begin with what was given to us as the number one rule of human/ghost etiquette. Never ask the individual, be they glowing werewolf, ghostly lunch-lady, or undead rock star, about the circumstances of their death.

It seems simple does it not? A matter of everyday politeness, and yet that is the number one reason for communication breakdowns between ectoplasmic entities and still living humans. Fortunately for the health of the interview this reporting team did not make that mistake. Phantom did not explain the nature of the offense but did not need to. It was clear that the, until then, friendly conversation would have ended abruptly if we had gone any farther down that path.

What we were encouraged (and warned) to talk to a ghost about was their obsession. As Phantom explained, "It's what drives a ghost, why we are still here, or why we formed at all."

When asked about his own obsession Phantom laughed a bit and said, "I'm a bit young for a ghost, so I don't really have one yet, I bounce around a lot. My doctor, he's a yeti, says it's normal for me though! The options are all over the place though. I know one ghost that haunts the high school to prevent bullying, a really nice guy. Another just wants to have her music heard by the world. Unfortunately her music brainwashes people to love her so we aren't super close. Or another that is all about granting wishes, but not in a singing blue genie way, in a fairy tale way, it's a mess whenever she gets over here."

That seems to be a common theme in ghostly/human interaction. Ghosts largely mean no harm but the pursuit of their own obsessions can have devastating effects on any that stand between them and their goal. Something to keep in mind if you're ordering pizza when the Box Ghost is at large.

Hoping it wouldn't cross into the realm of ghostly faux pas we went on to ask how old Phantom is. Once again Phantom seemed somewhat awkward although no more than what seemed to be his baseline when talking to (self claimed) famous reporters, saying only, "Time works differently in the realms. It can be really weird sometimes, you'll be talking to someone that looks like a toddler only to learn that they were last in a human world during the 1400s or something."

As Phantom continued to share however, the everlasting aspect seemed to be the least interesting part of the Infinite Realms, or the Ghost Zone as the Doctors Fenton, previously mentioned as ghostly experts here, call the place where the vast majority of ghosts dwell.

Ghostly yetis practicing medicine, while certainly not the least of the inhabitants were just the start. Phantom went on to share with us a sampling of the being he has encountered in his travels, medieval women moonlighting as temperamental dragons, the very concept of time, a warden of any ghosts that cross his path, and of course the ubiquitous creepy toddler so often featured on the silver screen.

According to Phantom up until extremely recently (whether by ghostly or human terms we were unable to determine) the Infinite Realms was closed off from our own home except for the occasional haunting. Which was explained to us by the telling of what was, to Phantom, a very funny joke about pop culture influencing ghost culture as people died and brought it over with them. From this we can glean several things. That the realms of the living and the dead have never been so far apart as it would have seemed to the living. That the near future will hold many changes as major religions, governments, and the common people hear what the dead have to say as they weigh in on what respect for the dead really means. And that while many things do translate, ghostly humor is not one of them.

Although of course that may be that, despite his real age being possibly many times our own - combined, Phantom is still eternally a teenager. And a teenagers jokes are often incomprehensible to any who do not share that state.

When asked about the sudden ghostly interest in our own living Earth Phantom had this to say, "Lots of ghosts want to go to the lands of the living. Especially anyone that used to be alive themselves. And anyone that didn't is curious what the fuss is about. Earth is so different from the ghost zone but it's still where a lot of us came from. If someone gets a chance to hop through the portal they'll go, to see how things have changed, or to keep things from changing, or just to stretch their obsessions. Really it's a chance to go home, just for a little while," he said, reminding us that for all they look like aliens ghosts are just as human as you or I.

With a few caveats.

The portal Phantom spoke of is an invention by the Doctors Fenton, Ectobiologists. Up until recently Jack and Maddie Fenton had been the worlds foremost ghostly experts, building a portal to the "Ghost Zone" in order to study what up until recently had been considered to be a non-sentient classification of emotional ectoplasmic imprintation.

We spoke to the researchers after our interview with Phantom, at his request. Despite the recent evidence come to light the couple remain the foremost (living) human scientists in the field. When asked about the setback to their work they had this to say, "We were devastated of course. To learn that we won't be able to study spooks -" Jack Fenton broke off there, at an extremely well executed elbow jab from Maddie Fenton who then said. "We got an extreme tunnel vision, a hazard of obsessive science. We were told we were wrong about the existence of ghosts for so long that we forgot to check that we were correct about their nature. We look forward to pivoting to ghostly anthropology and human/ghost interaction technology."

Ultimately we did not learn any groundbreaking secrets, but then if a ghost willing to go on record ( a written record at least, our recorded transcript of the conversation was near unusable due to static) you sit down and listen. We can never anticipate what a reader will take from an article but if we could make a suggestion? In this reporting teams opinion, the balance of ghost and human realms is not unlike the inversion of a mirror. We are reflections of one another. Opposite, yes, and dangerous to one another for it, but ultimately we are all the same. After all what is a ghost but emotion and ectoplasm (according to current science)? And for all that we try to rise above it, what is a human but emotion and flesh?

Fin.

Coming Soon!

Keep an eye out for top ten tips on ghostly interaction and interviews with the Justice League on diplomatic efforts with GHOSTLY ROYALTY!!

#dpxdc #dc x dp #Superman #Lois Lane #Clark Kent #danny phantom #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #no beta we die like danny

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manicpixieyandere · 2 days ago

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Gushing Over Magical Girls | Confessions of a Rotten Girl

The Journey of Self Accepting Sexuality and Kink

(Censored a bit because boo Tumblr).

More and more lately we have seen people online going on about how they want no more s*x in media, or at the very least no more pointless s*x in media. But trying to say what should and shouldn't be in a story purely because you deem it pointless completely misses the point. If you pay attention to the stories, you'll see when s*x has a meaning.

Usually it's something like showing how close two characters are, or the lust a certain character feels, and yes sometimes it is just fan service, but there is nothing wrong with that either.

Today we wanted to talk about two semi recent (within the last year) pieces of media that have shown s*x in ways that matter to the story. Those medias would be the manga / anime series: Gushing Over Magical Girls, and the song "Confessions of a Rotten Girl.

Both of these works center on the theme of a school aged girl learning about her own kink and sexual identity and coming to terms with the fact. Their ages are important as middle school to high school is exactly when people tend to start feeling these things (sometimes even younger).

Here is where we are gonna split the works into sections! First up is Gushing Over Magical Girls!

Throughout the story Utena finds out she is a sadist who loves to torture magical girls. At first she is disgusted by herself, thinking she needs to stop.

But the more the series goes on, the more she starts to accept this side of herself.

But the thing is; even though Utena is part of an evil organization and is playing the part, she never fully gives in. She isn't evil. She still supports the magical girls and wants to see them thrive with their La Verità forms. Utena is suspicious of Venalita and plans to work against them if things go south (of course this has yet to be seen as the series is on hiatus).

We think it's really cool to show a character come to terms with their kink and even sexual identity (she only ever plays with girls, just saying) through a story. People get so wrapped up in the "rights" of fictional characters that they forget they are just tools for the writer to tell their story. Both manga and anime are visual mediums, you can't just say what a character is thinking, you need to SHOW it. So the easiest way to do so would be having Utena actually preforming these actions on the magical girls. It also just makes it more interesting and action packed.

On the flip side we have Hatsune Miku from Confessions of a Rotten Girl. With music it isn't a visual medium, and thus the song can get away with sharing the character's thoughts through words and not visuals (although the music video does show the content Miku consumes).

In Miku's case we also have a school aged girl coming to terms with her sexual interests and identity. She also is into bondage but she is really into you guessed it, YAOI. Oh Fujo Miku how we love you.

While Utena's version of demonization is more fictional in the sense of being a villain to the magical girls, Miku's is more grounded in realistic depictions of religious guilt and trauma.

At first Miku is at confession and talks about her interests being temptations and that she is burdened by shame. She even goes as far to say she is eating the forbidden fruit.

As most of you probably know, this refers to Eve in the Garden of Eden eating from The Tree of Knowledge. Christians see this event as a tragedy, the birth of original sin. But look what Miku says:

"Could Eve be our idol? Could she lead us through the light? We'd all be disciples of her lemon driven bite".

This isn't someone upset about the bite, she is PRAISING Eve. To me this reads as a little baby Satanist in the making. If you don't know there are two types of Satanists. The first kind do not believe in Satan but instead see him as a symbol of freedom. The second half share those same beliefs but actually believe in Satan. Satanists do not see Eve eating the fruit as a tragedy, they see it as liberation. They see it as the beginning of free will.

Both Utena and Miku chose to live as their own authentic selves. Neither are really evil, but if people see them that way, then so be it.

#This one felt important after the rise of puritanism in fandoms lately #Gushing Over Magical Girls Manga Spoilers #Gushing Over Magical Girls #Confessions of a Rotten Girl #Hiiragi Utena #Hatsune Miku #Mahou Shoujo ni Akogarete #Vocaloid #Queer #Satanism

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fizzyapplecandy · 17 hours ago

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The Nerd in the Washroom

Ateez Seonghwa x Female Reader imagine

Genre: neighbours to lovers, classmates to lovers, slight fluff, smut, oral (f & m), lovely Seonghwa has a crush

Word count: 16k (I got way into it) (Not proofread, editing on the way)

Ever since you've moved to Korea to study at university, you've been curious about your neighbour Seonghwa. You know him as the nerdy guy on campus who has a Lego Star Wars themed backpack, big glasses, and a new fluffy sweater for every day of the week.

Others might find him boring, but you found him intriguing. You couldn't help but think there was something more to him than his nerdy looks.

You were certainly proven right while bumping into him in the laundry room of your complex - chest muscles on display, and an obvious huge bulge in his grey sweatpants.

"Oh my God, here he goes again. I wonder if you can catch his nerdiness in the air?"

She scoffed and continued to snicker with the boys behind her. Their target - Park Seonghwa.

"I think you're being a tad dramatic Jiun."

His appearance never bothered me, so I didn't engage in their gossip. Maybe it's because I never shared the same opinion as them. Jiun is my friend, and if it weren't for her I'd be stuck in a corner without friends. That didn't mean I shared all of her opinions.

"Don't you think you've talked about him enough? Jesus, he's just a guy. Besides, I've seen him around my building, he seems pretty normal."

The silence that followed my statement was ice cold. I could practically feel Jiun's stare.

"Y/N, sweetie, are you okay? Do you have a fever? Here, let me check, because what you're talking about is disturbing."

I slapped her hand away as she came for my forehead. Did I mention she could be a bit pushy?

"I'm fine. I just don't get why you would bother to talk about him so much. It kind of gives "middle school" vibes " I grabbed my pen and started taking down some notes. I was done with their nonesense.

"Woah, it seems like somebody has a crush on the nerd. Didn't think you went for that type of guy Y/N."

I scoffed and tuned out their snickering. Me? Having a crush on Seonghwa? No way. I just felt bad about the way they were talking about him. They didn't even know the guy. And hey, he may be a super nerd, and he may carry around a Star Wars backpack, but... Yeah, well that didn't make his case better.

I looked at him, sitting in the front row. He jutted something in his notebook before highlighting it with a pink pen. He seemed satisfied with it, a small smile gracing his features. He looked... Pretty.

Before I got list in my thoughts, the professor came in. Time to face reality.

Ironically, we lived in the same off-campus building. I've seen him around, wearing his pink sweatshirts, white headphones on his head. He always smelled nice, like a flower field. Made me question what kind of detergent he used. We never spoke, but he always nodded politely when we crossed paths.

"I've got to stop piling up laundry."

In my defense, I am a full time university student, with a part time online job. I don't exactly have time for laundry. Not to mention I don't even have a washing machine in my apartment. I would have to go three flights of stairs down to the basment, where our laundry room was located. It was old, a bit run down, but hey, it got the job done.

With a huff, I picked up my basket and made my way down. It was getting hotter as the days went by. We were approaching July, and my usual home wardrobe consisted of pyjama shorts and a white tank top. I left my bra in my bedroom, beacuse I haven't seen anybody use the old washroom besides myself. Occasionally, Seonghwa, but we've never been down there at the same time.

"Jesus, my arms hurt."

I opened the door with my butt, having my hands full. As I Iifted the basket I couldn't see a thing in front of me.

And as I finally put it down, I was in for a surprise.

There, with his eyes wide, pants low on his hips, pecks on full display stood none other that Seonghwa.

My expression became a mirror of his own, eyes wide and mouth open. I made the grave mistake of glancing down. Right at the surprisingly massive buldge in his gray sweats.

Holy shit.

Who knew nerdy boy was like Hercules underneath all of the pink fluff.

Before I could help myself, I gasped.

"Oh my... Sorry. I..."

He grabbed a shirt from his (surprise) pink basket, putting it in front of his chest.

"No! I mean... I'm sorry? I don't know, oh god."

"You're... Wow" What? Come on Y/N, get it together.

"I'm...? Thanks? I guess."

My eyes grew wider, flapping my hands around.

"No, no, no. I didn't mean it like that! Well, kind of, but... Did I? I don't know."

Seonghwa's ears and cheeks turned red and he flicked his own forehead.

"Of course you didn't mean it like that. Sorry, you caught me off guard." He smiled bashfully, looking at the ground now.

"Talk about catching people off guard. Dude, you're ripped."

My amazed expression could not be kept at bay. Boy, oh boy, I could feel myself getting hotter by the second.

" I wouldn't say that, but... Thanks, I guess?" Seonghwa smiled, this time looking at me. Or specificly, my tits.

I guess going without a bra has its benefits.

"Seen something you like?" I teased, putting my hands behind my back, jutting out my chest.

"Well... I... I have to say, I've never seen someone as hot as you, so..."

I hid my surprise behind a smile. Was he trying to flirt with me?

"I think you should come closer to take a better look."

I honestly thought this would be the moment he backed off, but again, he managed to exceed my expectations.

Without a word, he put down the shirt in his hands, walking over slowly. He stopped a foot away from me, his eyes locked onto mine. I had to strain my neck to look up at him. He was tall, and I liked that.

"Now that I'm up close, I can definitely say it. I've never seen someone as hot as you, Y/N."

I took another small step towards him, almost making our chests touch. His breathing was shallow, and I knew he was trying to keep his cool.

"Tell me, Seonghwa... Are the fluffy jumpers and nerdy backpacks only a cover-up? Why are you hiding this delicious body from the world? Hm?"

I slowly placed my index finger on his chest, bringing it down his stomach, only stopping when I heard his sharp inhale. His muscles contracted, and you could count his abs perfectly.

"Well, I... It's easier this way, I suppose. I don't particularly like attention."

I nodded. "Ah... A bit shy, are you? It doesn't seem like it to me. But I could be wrong."

"I am shy. You're just too pretty, and I like pretty things. I guess I also have a bit of a crush on you. It's stupid, I know. You'd never be with someone like me, but it's wishful thinking."

A crush? On me? I guess my dumfounded expression wasn't as well managed, because Seonghwa giggled a bit.

"How on Earth could I have known that? You never even speak to me. And, hey! Give yourself some credit! You're like, super smart, and you're handsome. It's quite ridiculous how good looking you are. Even with that backpack of yours."

"Which one, the Lego or Star Wars?"

I laughed out loud this time, patting him on the chest.

"You're funny. So, what do you want to do to me? I have to say, I am more than open to prove you wrong about your 'wishful thinking' if you want."

I could feel his heartbeat under my palm, and it seemed to pick up with my question. He gulped before opening his mouth, closing it, and opening it again. He seemed at a loss for words.

"I... I never thought I'd get this far, to be honest. But, God... The things I'd do to you...

Before I could tease him again, his lips were on mine.

I don't know if someone has ever kissed me with such passion. His hands were all over me - first my hair, my throat, my arms... He settled them over my hips and pulled me towards him. I couldn't help myself eather. My arms went around his broad shoulders. Our kiss grew urgent, and the hair grew heavier with each sigh of pleasure we left out.

His tongue prodded into my mouth, caressing mine. I don't know who pulled away first, but thank god, because I needed some air. And I needed to do something else.

I looked into his eyes as I dropped to my knees. My head was perfectly aligned with his impressive buldge. He was a bit taken aback, lips red and puffy, eyes wide.

"You don't have to do that, you know. I am perfectly content kissing the shit out of you for, like, forever."

"Seonghwa?" "Yes?" "Shut up and drop your pants."

"Yes ma'am."

With that, he pulled down his sweats, and surprise surprise, there were little starships and baby Yodas printed on his boxers.

"Please, for the love of everything sacred, and my pride, do not say anything about it now."

I pretended to zip my mouth shut, grabbing at his boxers to get them out of my way. I was a woman on a mission.

His cock was as pretty as the rest of him. Big, with a pink tip. I slowly carresed the head, making it pulse in the air. Seonghwa left out a breathy moan, putting his hand on my head. He didn't urge me, he simply slipped my hair though his fingers.

"I've never seen such a pretty cock before. It matches you perfectly."

I gripped him tighter, making him moan a bit louder this time.

"Thanks... I... Oh god."

He couldn't finish his sentence because I took the chance to lick his cock from his balls to his head. My lips wrapped around the pink bulb and I sucked at it like it was a lolly.

His hand soon fisted my hair, pulling a bit tighter every time I lowered my head some more. Soon enough, with a bit of a struggle, I took all of his glory into my mouth. There was droll everywhere, but I didn't care. Neither did he, judging by his moans.

"Oh my... I knew you'd be good at this... Look at you, drolling all over me. I think you can take it a little rougher, am I right?"

With that, he thrusted his hips up, and his cock hit the back of my throat. I gagged, but I wasn't about to give up. I relaxed my muscles and began bobbing up and down, going faster when I felt his first tightening in my hair.

"That's it... What a good girl... Just like that..."

His words only made me speed up, encouraging me to finish him off. It seemed like he had other plans, because I was pushed off his cock and up on my feet in seconds.

"Sorry doll, but I don't want to cum unless it's in you."

He picked me up and sat me on one of the washing machines. It creeked with my weight on it, and we chuckled before sharing another kiss. This time it was slower, more passionate.

"Do you know how pretty you are right now? With your lips all pink and glossy... I could kiss you all day long. I could also keep your mouth on my cock forever... You're too good at it."

I spread my legs to let him get closer. My shorts were soaked, and he could feel it.

"Thanks babe, I was trying to impress you."

"Oh doll, you did a fantastic job. Let me show you what I can do now."

Without another word, he crouched down. His hands went up my legs, caressing them on the way up. His touch was soft, feather like. Until he got to my sleep shorts, and almost ripped them off me.

"Impatient, are we?"

He chuckled. "You have no idea doll."

Seonghwa was a bit surprised with my lack of panties, but he was also glad. One less layer to take care off.

He slowly parted my pussy lips, eyes focused on my wetness.

"Good god... I could look at you all day."

"Seonghwa, please, look at it all you want another time. I'm gonna bust up here."

He let out a laugh, nodding his head.

"I'm gonna hold onto that promise."

I didn't get to reply because he went right in on my clit. His tongue was doing wonders, going up and down, left to right, keeping a steady pace. He sucked on my little nub, watching me carefully.

"You taste so sweet doll. I knew you would. I could stay here forever."

"I won't complain if you do."

He chuckled and went right back at it. I can't remember the last time someone was this devoted to eating me out. Probably never.

His fingers prodded at my entrance, slowly punching one inside. His tongue kept going over my clit, making me shake.

"Keep going baby, I'm so close..."

My words only encouraged him to go faster, more eager. His finger reached my sweet spot, pushing against the gummy walls. I could feel my orgasm coming. It took a sharp suck on my little nub, and I was out.

"Yes! Oh my! Oh Seonghwa..."

My moans soon turned into little cries, the overstimulation making me more sensitive. It seemed like he wasn't going to stop, so I had to push his head away.

He came up and kissed me roughly, grabbing my boobs and squeezing.

"Sorry doll, got a bit lost. You have the sweetest pussy..."

"I think it's time you use those hips now, don't you agree?"

"You are absolutely right. What a smart girl you are."

I giggled and put my legs around his hips, pulling him into me. He understood my intentions, pushing his pants all the way down. He stroked his cock a few times before slowly pushing it in.

We both let out a sigh after he was fully inside.

"My god doll, you're so tight. You suck me right it. I think we were made for this, you know?"

I nodded and put my hands around his neck. Our foreheads touched, and we gazed into each others eyes. I slowly nodded, and he started thrusting into me.

His pace was slow at first, almost as if he was soaking it all in. His hands grabbed my ass, squeezing every time his cock plunged into my pussy.

"Y/N, doll... We have to do this every day, you know? It's the only logical option."

I smiled, kissing him again.

"Yeah, you think so? I have to say...Ah... I agree."

He speed up, moaning loudly while I clenched around him. It was difficult to keep my hands at bay, so I caressed his chest and shoulders. His broad, sexy shoulders. Without much thought, I sank my teeth into his neck, trailing bites down to his shoulder.

Seonghwa gasped, squeezing me even more.

"Do that again doll. Do it harder."

I listened, putting my head on the opposite side, doing the same thing. I was a bit rougher now, leaving deep teeth marks.

"You're mine now, I left my mark." I was only half joking, but it seemed to make him even more eager in his movements.

"I'm yours. I'm yours, however you want me."

I squeezed his cock again, tightening my walls while he pushed them even deeper inside me. I could feel my orgasm approaching again, and I could tell Seonghwa was hanging by a thread.

"I'm close doll, your pussy is just so good... Come on, you've got to cum with me. I need to feel your pussy pulsating around me."

"I'm close, I'm so close. Please, please..."

He put his fingers on my clit, rubbing fast circles, making me clench even more.

"Cum for me Y/N."

With his whispered words, my orgasm crashed through me like a truck. Seonghwa was seconds behind, groaning in pleasure. I could feel his cum painting my walls, milking his cock until he started shaking.

We hugged, our breaths laboured as we got down from our highs. He took a deep breath, running his fingers through my locks.

"That was..."

"Yeah..."

"We should totally..."

"Yeah..."

He chuckled at my lack of articulate responses. I was in no shape to form a sentence.

He slowly pulled out of me, watching as his cum dripped onto the old washing machine.

"We made a mess doll."

"Yeah, well, I don't care honestly. That was just wow. "

Seonghwa grabbed my shorts, pulling them up my legs before helping me get off. My legs were shaking, so I leaned into him. He hugged me close, kissing the top of my head.

"Do you think you'd be up for a date maybe? I mean, only if you want to. If you don't that's okay, I get it. I am a bit of a nerd after all."

"Yes."

"I get it, I am reasona - Yes?"

"Yes, I'll go on a date with you. But only if you let me wear that cute pink sweater of yours."

"Well now that wouldn't be practical, would it?"

"You can wear all of my sweaters if you want."

"Did you see the residential nerd this morning? He's got a new backpack. And guess what? It's pink!"

"Hey isn't that Y/N?"

"What?"

Jiun turned around and locked eyes with me, and my newly acquired boyfriend. Seonghwa took me on a date this weekend, and we bought matching baby pink backpacks. Way to introduce us as a couple, am I right?

I waved at my friends, motioning to the seat next to Seonghwa's, basically telling them I'm moving.

"Not at all big boy, not at all..."

Jiun was a bit stunned, but the smile she gave me was genuine. Seonghwa glanced at me, interlocking our pinkies.

"You don't mind sitting with the nerd now?"

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