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odileeclipse · 15 days ago

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In the Presence of Truth {"Sage of Truth" (SMC) x Reader} PT 14

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The morning air was crisp as you and your friends weaved through the lesser-traveled paths of the Academy grounds. The sun had barely begun its ascent, casting long shadows over the cobblestone pathways, the faint hum of morning lectures and student chatter still distant enough to not be a concern. It wasn’t difficult to find the path leading down to the Astral River the shimmering divide between the Academy and the Ghost City. Normally, students would take the officially sanctioned routes: bridges, portals, or authorized ferries. But that wasn’t your group’s style. “Are you sure he’s going to be here this early?” Earl Grey Cookie murmured, adjusting the cuffs of his coat as you all neared the water’s edge. “Of course,” Chai Latte Cookie said breezily, walking ahead. “The Ferryman’s always here. It’s kind of his whole thing.” And sure enough there, standing at the shore, was the Ferryman. A skeletal figure draped in tattered robes, the Ferryman clutched his ever-present scythe, the blade gleaming faintly with an ethereal glow. His hat, adorned with its peculiar crosshatched pattern, tilted slightly as he turned toward your group. Despite his grim appearance, his expression brightened upon seeing you all approach.

“Ah, greetings, little travelers,” the Ferryman drawled, his voice echoing like the wind through hollow bones. “Do you wish to journey across the Astral River?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie leaned in slightly. “Depends. What’s your price today?” The Ferryman let out a deep, rattling laugh, one that sent an eerie ripple across the water’s surface. “The same as always, my dear friends. Company. Conversation to keep this weary soul entertained.” He sighed dramatically. “An eternity of ferrying can be such a lonely task, you know.” “You literally see students all the time,” you pointed out, crossing your arms. “Ah, but they rarely have such charming tales to tell,” the Ferryman countered. Earl Grey Cookie exhaled through his nose, already bracing himself. “Fine. What do you want to hear?” The Ferryman grinned, stepping aside and motioning to the shimmering water behind him. “Tell me a story as we walk.” With that, he tapped the butt of his scythe against the river’s surface. The water rippled, then stilled, taking on an almost glass-like sheen. It was always strange, walking across the Astral River. Each step sent soft waves beneath your feet, yet you never felt like you were sinking. Instead, it was as if the river itself had decided, just for this moment, to carry you.

As you all stepped forward, Chai Latte Cookie took the lead in entertaining the Ferryman, launching into a retelling of a particularly embarrassing Academy mishap involving a misfired spell and a very grumpy librarian. The Ferryman chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, students and their magical blunders. Some things never change.”

As the journey continued, you couldn’t help but steal a glance back toward the Academy, its towering spires growing smaller in the distance. There was something exhilarating about sneaking away like this, even if it was just for ice cream. Soon enough, the mist of the Ghost City curled around your ankles, the outline of buildings and flickering lanterns coming into view. The Ferryman finally came to a halt, tapping his scythe against the air. The shimmering path beneath your feet vanished, leaving you safely on the shore. “And here we are,” he announced grandly. “Your destination, delivered without incident.” He let out another rattling laugh. “See? I am an excellent guide.” “You say that like we’ve ever had an issue,” you teased.

“Ah, but one never knows when adventure may strike.” The Ferryman gave a dramatic bow. “Now, enjoy your time in the Ghost City, little travelers. But remember, should you need passage back, I will be waiting.” “Of course you will,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered under his breath. With a few final words of thanks, you and your friends slipped past the misty streets, leaving the Ferryman’s presence behind as you ventured toward the city’s well-known ice cream shop. Now, the real fun could begin. The Ghost City was unlike anywhere else in the world. It was a place caught between realms, where the past and present wove together like threads of mist. Lanterns flickered with eerie green and blue flames, casting long shadows that wavered like living things. The cobbled streets curved in ways that defied logic, twisting around grand, towering buildings with architecture lost to time. Phantasmal figures drifted through the air, remnants of ages past, some engaged in endless conversations while others simply watched the living pass by. Despite its spectral nature, the city was lively. The market square bustled with ghostly vendors selling goods both familiar and arcane enchanted trinkets, glowing fruits, and books that whispered their contents aloud if one dared to open them. The air carried the scent of spiced cider, roasted nuts, and of course, the unmistakable sweetness of freshly made ice cream. You and your friends wove through the streets, eyes wide with wonder. There was something about the Ghost City that made you all feel lighter, as if the weight of lectures, expectations, and the Academy’s rigid structure had been left behind on the other side of the river. Here, in the lantern-lit mist, you weren’t students of magic, burdened with studying and stress, you were just you.

“First stop! The ice cream shop,” Chai Latte Cookie announced, marching forward with purpose. “No distractions!” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed. “You’re saying that? The same person who stopped twice already to admire cursed jewelry?” “I was appreciating craftsmanship!” she shot back, nose in the air. “Anyway, priorities. Ice cream.” The shop was an institution among Academy students. Tucked away on a side street, its glowing purple sign read The Wisp & Whimsy, promising flavors both mundane and magical. A bell jingled as you stepped inside, and immediately, the air was filled with the crisp chill of frozen treats and the rich aroma of caramelized sugar. The glass display cases stretched across the room, holding an array of colors and textures, some of which shimmered or changed hues when viewed from different angles. The owner, a friendly old ghost who had perfected the art of frozen desserts in his afterlife, drifted over with a knowing smile. “Back again, I see. And what will it be this time?”

The four of you lined up, eyes scanning the case with the seriousness of scholars poring over ancient texts. Chai Latte Cookie was the first to decide. “Vanilla bean with honeycomb shards,” she declared, grinning. “Classic, a little sweet, but with a crunch.” She gave you a wink. “Just like me.” Earl Grey Cookie adjusted his glasses, peering over the selection. “Earl Grey ice cream with dark chocolate flakes,” he finally said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “A refined choice, obviously.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie didn’t even hesitate. “Hazelnut gelato with crushed biscotti on top,” he said, nodding as if confirming the universe’s natural order. “Perfect balance of texture and flavor. No notes.” All eyes turned to you. “What about you, (Y/N)?” Chai Latte Cookie asked, rocking on her heels. There was no rush. You took a moment, looking over the options, considering your choice carefully before making your order. Pineapple ice cream, with pineapple chunks when it was finally scooped into your hands, the chill of it seeping through the cup, you couldn’t help but smile. With your frozen treasures secured, the four of you dashed back outside, ice cream in hand, laughing like children set loose in a festival. Chai Latte Cookie immediately looped her arm through yours, steering you toward the center square. “Alright, so what’s the plan? We have the whole city at our feet!” “We could check out that bookstore Hazelnut keeps nerding out about,” Earl Grey Cookie suggested, taking a slow, deliberate bite of his ice cream. “Or, if you want to be really adventurous, we could visit the Phantom’s Alley.”

Chai Latte Cookie shuddered. “Absolutely not. Last time we went down there, a ghost whispered in my ear and I swear I lost ten years off my life.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie laughed, already flipping through his ever-present notebook. “We could try and track down one of the wandering storytellers! They always know the best ghost tales.” “Or,” you suggested between bites of your ice cream, “we could just… enjoy the city. Walk around, explore, see where we end up.” They all paused. Then Chai Latte Cookie grinned. “I like that plan.” So that’s what you did. You wandered through the streets, stopping wherever something caught your eye watching a street magician conjure floating lanterns that danced to silent music, daring each other to taste-test one of the market’s glowing candies, peeking through the windows of long-forgotten buildings where books floated idly in the air. The laughter came easy, the conversations endless. It was one of those rare, perfect moments. The kind where nothing else existed outside of the here and now. No responsibilities, no expectations, no looming pressures just the warmth of friendship, the chill of ice cream, and the magic of a city caught between life and memory. For the first time in a long while, you all felt truly, blissfully free. The city pulsed with an eerie yet thrilling energy, its lantern-lit streets humming with a life that defied its ghostly nature. Wandering through the mist-veiled alleys and bustling market squares, you and your friends felt like children again free to indulge in mischief, to chase fleeting joys, to forget, even for a little while, the weight of the Academy’s expectations. Your adventure truly began at the Market of Forgotten Goods, a sprawling bazaar filled with relics from ages past. Ghostly vendors called out their wares, offering everything from enchanted quills that never ran out of ink to books that whispered their own contents when opened. The air smelled of parchment, dried herbs, and something vaguely metallic, as if the very essence of lost time had settled over the marketplace.

Chai Latte Cookie let out a gasp of delight as she tugged you toward a stand displaying jewelry, each piece embedded with stones that pulsed like tiny heartbeats. “Look at these! Tell me they’re not gorgeous.” She held up a delicate ring that gleamed with a soft golden glow, tilting her head in consideration. “Do you think it would look good on me?” “It’s probably cursed,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered without looking up from his notebook, where he was diligently scribbling notes about the marketplace. Chai Latte Cookie huffed. “You always say that. Maybe I like a little mystery.” Earl Grey Cookie smirked, inspecting a pocket watch that ticked without visible hands. “I think what Hazelnut means is that everything here has some magic attached to it. A ring that glows like that? It probably has an interesting history.” You chuckled as Chai Latte Cookie twirled the ring between her fingers, then slipped it onto her finger anyway. “Guess I’ll just have to live with the consequences.” The market held its fair share of curiosities, from bottled moonlight to mirrors that refused to show your reflection unless you asked them a question. You picked up a small music box and turned the key, only for a hauntingly beautiful melody to spill out a tune that sounded familiar yet just out of reach. “Cursed,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie said again. “You’re the worst,” Chai Latte Cookie shot back, but there was no bite to her words. As you wandered deeper into the city, the air grew colder, and the streets became narrower. Without meaning to, you all found yourselves standing at the entrance to Phantom’s Alley, a place notorious for its eerie whispers and ghostly apparitions. Shadows stretched unnaturally along the cobblestone, twisting into shapes that shouldn’t have been possible.

Earl Grey Cookie crossed his arms. “Alright, if one of us is going to get haunted today, my bet is on Hazelnut.” “Excuse me?” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie shot him an incredulous look. “Why me?” “You take notes on everything,” Earl Grey Cookie pointed out. “Ghosts love unfinished business. You’d make the perfect target.” “You guys are terrible,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered, but he still flipped open his notebook, pen at the ready. “You’re all insane for thinking we should go in,” Chai Latte Cookie cut in, eyes narrowed at the darkened alleyway. But when you took a step forward, she immediately grabbed your sleeve, fingers tightening. “I mean, if you insist, at least don’t leave me behind.” The air inside Phantom’s Alley was different. It clung to you, thick and heavy, charged with an unnatural stillness. Every so often, you swore you heard faint laughter just beyond earshot, just out of reach. “Well,” you said, voice deliberately even, “this isn’t too bad.” A whisper slithered through the silence. You shouldn’t be here. Chai Latte Cookie shrieked. Earl Grey Cookie clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes crinkling with barely-contained laughter, while Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie furiously jotted something down. “What did it sound like? Male? Female? Was it an echo, or-” “It sounded like a bad decision,” Chai Latte Cookie snapped, tugging you toward the exit. “We’re leaving.”

You didn’t argue. Even if it was just playful ghostly mischief, there was only so much heart-racing adventure one could take in a day. A few streets down, you stumbled upon a gathering in the town square. Wisps of spectral light floated in the air, illuminating a group of ghostly figures seated in a circle. At the center stood a woman whose translucent form flickered like candlelight as she spoke. “The Storyteller’s Circle,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie mused, adjusting his glasses. “They share tales of the city’s past. Some say they were part of its past.” You and your friends sat among the listeners as the storyteller wove a tale of lost lovers who could only meet in the Ghost City once every hundred years. Her voice wasn’t loud, yet it filled the space as if whispered directly into your mind. “Kind of romantic,” Chai Latte Cookie murmured, resting her chin in her hands. “Imagine waiting a hundred years just to see someone again.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed. “Sounds tragic.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe. But some people are worth waiting for.” You glanced at him, but he wasn’t looking at you; his gaze was distant, lost in thought. Before you could dwell on it, the ghost finished her story, and the crowd murmured their appreciation in soft, breathless tones. Eventually, as the sky turned a deeper shade of blue, you all found yourselves back at the ice cream shop, drawn in by the sheer delight of indulgence. “Alright,” Earl Grey Cookie announced, arms crossed, “we need to settle something. What is the objectively best ice cream flavor?” “You can’t be serious,” Chai Latte Cookie groaned. “We just did this earlier.” “I am serious,” Earl Grey Cookie countered. “This is important.” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie smirked. “He just wants validation.” “I think,” you mused, “we should all try something different and compare.” That led to another round of ice cream, a heated debate on the merits of each flavor, and ultimately, no conclusion except that ice cream was always a good idea. As the city lights flickered like distant stars, you made your way back to the riverbank where the Ferryman awaited. “Had your fill of adventure?” he asked, the ever-present grin in his voice. “For now,” you admitted. As he guided you across the astral river, the Ghost City faded into the distance, its lanterns flickering like remnants of a dream. There was a sense of longing in leaving a feeling of stepping out of something magical and returning to reality. But as you glanced at your friends, still laughing, still teasing, still them, you realized the magic of the Ghost City wasn’t just in its haunted streets or its forgotten wonders. It was in the way you had all been free. And that magic? That was something you carried with you, even as the Academy’s spires loomed back into view.

Sneaking back into the Academy was a delicate art, one you and your friends had perfected over time. The night air was cool, carrying with it the last remnants of the Ghost City’s magic, as you all crept across the grounds with hushed laughter and hurried footsteps. The Academy’s towering silhouette loomed ahead, its ancient stonework bathed in moonlight. Chai Latte Cookie led the way, light on her feet, barely making a sound. Earl Grey Cookie followed close behind, adjusting his coat as he kept an eye out for wandering professors or night sentries. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie, ever the meticulous one, checked his pocket watch and muttered something about making better time than last week. Once inside, the grand halls were nearly deserted, the only sounds being the soft flickering of candlelight and the distant ticking of the enchanted clocks that lined the corridors. It was late very late but you all moved with purpose toward the dining hall, not necessarily out of hunger, but for the sake of tradition. The dining hall, once filled with the clatter of conversation and the warmth of candlelit meals, was now eerily quiet. Only a few enchanted lanterns remained lit, casting soft pools of light over the long tables. The food left behind was nothing special; cold rolls, half-eaten platters of roasted vegetables, and the last remains of soup that had likely been simmering for hours. Still, none of you hesitated. You each grabbed a plate, sitting at your usual spot, keeping your voices low despite the empty space around you. The Academy was ancient, and its walls had a way of listening.

“That was so much fun,” Chai Latte Cookie sighed dreamily, resting her cheek against her palm as she poked at a slice of fruit. “I haven’t felt that free in ages.” “You say that every time we sneak out,” Earl Grey Cookie pointed out with an amused smile. “And I mean it every time.” She huffed before turning to you with a knowing look. “But I think someone had an especially enchanting time.” You blinked, mid-bite, suddenly wary. “What?” She tilted her head. “You seemed really caught up in the Storyteller’s Circle.” At that, a hush fell over the table. You felt their eyes on you, expectant, curious. The image of the ghostly storyteller drifted through your mind, her words still lingering like a haunting melody. You set your fork down. “It was just… beautiful,” you admitted, voice softer now. “The idea of someone waiting like that of a love that lasts centuries just for a fleeting moment together. I don’t know. It’s tragic, yeah, but… in a way, isn’t it kind of romantic?” Chai Latte Cookie exhaled through her nose, a small, knowing smile tugging at her lips. “I knew you’d say that.”

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie scoffed, flipping through the notes he had taken from earlier in the night. “Sounds miserable to me. A hundred years apart? That’s not love that’s torture.” Earl Grey Cookie hummed, contemplative. “I don’t know. Some people are worth waiting for.” You glanced at him, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his face before he returned to his meal. Chai Latte Cookie stretched her arms above her head, letting out a breath. “Well, if I had to wait a century to see someone, I hope they’d at least make it worth it.” She shot you a teasing glance. “What do you think? Would you wait?” You hesitated, letting the question settle deep into your chest. “…I think if you love someone enough, time wouldn’t change that.” The words left your lips before you had fully thought them through, but as you said them, you realized they felt right. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered something under his breath and jotted it down in his notebook.

Chai Latte Cookie raised a brow. “Oh no. What now?” “Just adding it to my notes,” he said simply. Earl Grey Cookie leaned over to peek at the page. “You’re actually taking this seriously? It’s just a hypothetical question.” “You don’t ask questions like that unless you already have an answer,” Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie countered. “And I think our dear friend here has a very interesting way of looking at love.” You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I hate you guys.” Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin on her hands. “No, you love us.” The conversation dissolved into hushed laughter and teasing remarks, the weight of the night settling into something warm and familiar. Eventually, when the last scraps of food were gone and exhaustion began creeping in, you all stood, stretching and stifling yawns. “Alright,” Earl Grey Cookie said, rolling his shoulders. “Time to get some sleep before we all end up sleep-deprived disasters in class.” You all murmured your agreement, quietly making your way out of the dining hall and down the corridors, the Academy’s ancient walls standing silent around you.

As you finally slipped into your dorm, shutting the door behind you, you exhaled, the events of the night playing over in your mind. The laughter, the stories, the feeling of freedom in the Ghost City. And yet, more than anything, the storyteller’s words lingered. Would you wait a hundred years for someone? You had answered so easily before, but now, alone in the quiet of your room, you weren’t sure. Because what did waiting matter… if you didn’t even know who you were waiting for?

Monday arrived sooner than you wanted, dragging you out of the warm cocoon of your blankets with an unrelenting pull. The Ghost City’s lingering magic felt like a dream now, distant and fleeting, replaced by the mundane rhythm of the Academy’s routine. You went about your morning as usual freshening up, gathering your materials for class, and heading to the dining hall, hoping for a breakfast that would soften the blow of another long week ahead. But when you stepped inside and scanned the options laid out before you, your stomach dropped just a little. No waffles. You weren’t sure why that detail bothered you so much. Maybe it was how often they’d been served last week, to the point where you’d begun to expect them, to look forward to them. Perhaps they’d had an overabundance and were simply trying to get rid of them, and now that the supply had dwindled, so had your small morning indulgence. Rationally, it wasn’t a big deal, but still, there was a quiet disappointment that settled in the pit of your stomach. With a sigh, you let your eyes drift across the breakfast spread, searching for something else, something to fill the void left behind. And then, almost absentmindedly, your gaze landed on a dish that looked familiar not because you had ever chosen it before, but because you’d seen him choose it. Shadow Milk Cookie.

You had watched him, in the way you watched many things, from a comfortable distance. His choices had always seemed so… deliberate. Carefully selected, refined in a way that made you wonder if there was something to be learned from them. So, without thinking too hard about it, you reached for the same dish. As you settled into your usual seat, taking your first bite, you found yourself dissecting the flavors more than you normally would. Was this good? Was this a meal worthy of someone as renowned as the Sage of Truth? You weren’t sure what you expected some grand revelation, some deeper understanding but instead, all you got was… breakfast. Not bad. Not life-changing, either. Still, you took another bite. Your friends eventually found you sitting alone at your usual spot, your fork idly prodding at your food. You hadn't been waiting for them, but the moment they arrived, the lively energy of their presence swept in like a fresh breeze. Chai Latte Cookie sat beside you first, sliding into place with effortless ease. She nudged your shoulder playfully before setting down her tray, steam curling from her tea. Across from you, Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie and Earl Grey Cookie took their seats as well, their expressions far too knowing for your liking.

Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie was the first to speak, his voice laced with amusement. "So," he drawled, leaning forward with his hands clasped together. "Did you dream of long-lost lovers pining through the centuries?" You blinked, caught mid-bite. "What?" Chai Latte Cookie giggled, resting her chin in her hand. "You know, the story. The tragic romance. The waiting-a-hundred-years-just-to-see-each-other-again thing?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief. "It was quite a beautiful tale. Wouldn’t be surprised if it followed you into your dreams." Earl Grey Cookie took a sip of his tea, watching you closely. "They wouldn't admit it if it did." Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie tapped his notebook yes, his notebook against the table thoughtfully. "True. But if they did have some swoon-worthy, star-crossed-lovers kind of dream, I want to know." His grin turned sharp. "So? Anything?" You rolled your eyes, stabbing your food with a little too much force. "You guys are ridiculous. It was just a story." "But a good story," Chai Latte Cookie pointed out, stirring her tea as if this was a casual discussion rather than a full-on interrogation. You scoffed. "I didn’t go to bed composing poetry about it, if that’s what you’re asking." "But you thought about it," Earl Grey Cookie said, setting his cup down with an almost victorious air.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Of course you had thought about it. The tale had clung to you, lingering in the quiet space between wakefulness and sleep. Not just the story itself, but the feeling it left behind the weight of devotion stretching across time, of love strong enough to defy centuries. You thought about it now, even as they pressed you for answers. Your silence was enough. Chai Latte Cookie exchanged a look with Earl Grey Cookie, while Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie grinned, flipping open his notebook. "Knew it," he muttered, scribbling something down. You narrowed your eyes. "What exactly are you writing?" "Oh, nothing," he said far too innocently. "Just taking some notes." "For what?" "You," Earl Grey Cookie said simply. "You’re a very fascinating subject, you know." "Great. Love being psychoanalyzed before I’ve even finished breakfast," you deadpanned. They laughed, and you shook your head, pushing your plate away. But even as you tried to dismiss their antics, a quiet thought gnawed at the back of your mind.

It wasn’t just the story that had lingered with you. You hadn’t seen Shadow Milk Cookie yesterday not once. It wasn’t like he was always around, but after last week, after everything, his absence had been noticeable. No keen observations over your shoulder, no well-timed interjections, no presence hovering at the edge of your awareness. And now, here you were, absentmindedly choosing a breakfast he’d favored before. You sighed. Maybe you really were reading too much into things. Because, really… it was just a story. That’s all. As the morning rolled on, the four of you made your way to Almond Custard Cookie’s lecture hall, the familiar path winding through the academy’s grand corridors. The air was thick with the hum of students preparing for the day, parchment rustling and quiet conversations blending into a soft symphony of scholarly ambition. Your friends chatted as you walked, but you were more focused than usual. Today, you weren’t bracing yourself for inevitable confusion. Today, you weren’t dreading the lecture like a battle you were bound to lose. Because at some point, despite your hesitations, you had asked Shadow Milk Cookie to help you review ahead. It had been a quiet request, one you barely managed to voice without second-guessing yourself. But he had agreed graciously, eagerly even and had guided you through the future material with the same careful patience he always showed.

And now, for the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just trying to keep up. You were keeping up. "You’re awfully quiet," Chai Latte Cookie noted, nudging your side playfully. "Are you dare I say actually confident about this lecture?" Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie raised a brow. "A rare sight indeed," he mused. "Should we be concerned?" You rolled your eyes. "I just… studied ahead, that’s all." Earl Grey Cookie gave you a knowing look. "With his help, I assume?" You didn’t dignify that with a response, though the warmth creeping up your neck probably gave it away. Chai Latte Cookie grinned, linking her arm through yours. "Well, well, well. Look at you, being all prepared. I’m so proud!" "Don’t be," Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie deadpanned. "If they start answering questions before us, we may have to revoke their status as our perpetual academic underdog." "Harsh," you muttered, but you couldn’t help but laugh. The teasing didn’t last long, though soon enough, you had arrived at the lecture hall, filing in with the rest of the students. You took your seat, your fingers tapping absently against the desk as you glanced at the notes in front of you. You could feel a strange anticipation bubbling beneath the surface, a readiness that hadn’t been there before.

Because this time, you weren’t just hoping to scrape by. This time, you knew you could keep up. As the lecture began, Almond Custard Cookie took his place at the front of the hall, his crisp, even voice cutting through the murmurs of students settling in. He adjusted his glasses before tapping the board with the end of his cane, the subtle golden glow of magic trailing in its wake as complex runes and equations appeared. “Today,” he announced, “we will be continuing our discussion on the fundamental laws governing enchantment stability. Recall that last lecture, we examined the properties of self-sustaining magic and the principles of balance that keep an enchantment from unraveling under duress. Now, tell me what is the primary countermeasure used to reinforce unstable enchantments?” A hush fell over the hall as students scrambled through their notes, some hesitating before slowly raising their hands. For once, you weren’t frozen in place, uncertain of the answer. The concept was familiar to you now the nights spent reviewing ahead had made sure of that. You raised your hand. Almond Custard Cookie’s gaze flickered to you, his brow lifting ever so slightly in intrigue. He gestured for you to speak. “Anchor points,” you said, voice steady. “Stabilizing an enchantment can be done by binding it to a fixed locus whether it’s a physical object or an existing magical structure. This disperses excess energy and prevents the spell from collapsing in on itself.” A pause. Then, to your absolute shock, Almond Custard Cookie smiled. “Correct,” he said, sounding genuinely pleased. “Anchor points serve as stabilizing mechanisms, allowing enchantments to persist without degradation. A strong enough locus can even sustain high-energy spells that would otherwise fail under their own weight.” He glanced back at the board, adding a few additional notes. “It seems you’ve taken the time to study ahead. An admirable effort.”

The warmth in his voice, however subtle, sent a flicker of pride through you. Chai Latte Cookie, seated beside you, shot you a look one of both surprise and approval. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie muttered something under his breath, scribbling in his ever-present notebook. Earl Grey Cookie, on the other hand, leaned back slightly in his chair, expression unreadable but undeniably impressed. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t just sitting there, lost and overwhelmed. You were engaged. As Almond Custard Cookie continued, you nodded along, absorbing his explanations more easily than before. When he opened the floor for further questions, you found yourself raising your hand again, inquiring about the specific limitations of anchor points when dealing with unstable ley lines. The professor blinked at you, clearly taken aback but his lips quirked upward once more. “An excellent question,” he mused before delving into an explanation. The lecture carried on, and while Almond Custard Cookie continued as he always did methodical, precise, ever so slightly intimidating there was a distinct shift in the way he regarded you. It was subtle, but there nonetheless. By the time the class ended, you could hear the murmurs around you, a few curious glances thrown your way. You ignored them, barely containing the thrill of having actually kept up for once.

As you gathered your things, Chai Latte Cookie nudged you with her elbow. “Look at you, star student,” she teased, a grin on her face. Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie merely huffed. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll start answering everything. That’s my job.” You rolled your eyes, but Earl Grey Cookie, walking beside you, murmured just loud enough for you to hear “Well done.” And somehow, those two words made the whole morning even better. The transition from morning lecture to evening study had become seamless in a way you hadn’t expected. It wasn’t a forced shift, like stepping into an entirely different world, but rather a natural progression like the slow dimming of sunlight into dusk, the air shifting to something quieter, more introspective.

And here you were again, in Shadow Milk Cookie’s office, seated across from him as the candlelight flickered between you. The study sessions had changed. They weren’t just lessons anymore, not in the way they once were. Before, you had approached them with a quiet, nervous reverence, careful not to overstep, to take up too much space. Shadow Milk Cookie had been patient then, as he was now, but there had been an undeniable distance between you. A formality. That distance had faded. It was in the way he sat, more at ease than before, his arm resting against the edge of the desk as he gestured through an explanation. It was in the way he didn’t just lecture but engaged tilting his head when you questioned something, waiting for you to puzzle through it aloud before offering guidance. It was in the way you leaned forward without thinking, elbows resting on the wooden surface as you traced patterns idly along the margin of your notes. There was something about tonight that made it feel smaller like the rest of the Academy had faded away, leaving only the soft hush of pages turning, the warmth of candlelight, and the quiet weight of shared understanding.

But despite that comfort, something lingered in the back of your mind. You hesitated, fingers lightly tapping against the parchment. You had learned their names now Camellia Pith, Serrano Bark, Fennel Drizzle. The weight of them settled uneasily in your chest, not because they frightened you anymore, but because you had a feeling Shadow Milk Cookie already knew. And you weren’t sure what he would do with that knowledge. You swallowed, gathering your thoughts before speaking. “Shadow Milk Cookie…” He hummed, not looking up immediately as he made a small notation in the margins of his book. “Yes?” A pause. Then: “You know who they are, don’t you?” That made him stop. His quill stilled against the page, though he did not immediately respond. His expression remained composed, unreadable in the low light, but the flicker of his gaze toward you was sharp. After a beat, he leaned back slightly, folding his hands in his lap. “I do.” You had expected as much, but hearing it aloud still made your stomach twist. Of course he knew. He was the Sage of Truth; there were few things that escaped his notice. The silence stretched for a moment, and then, calmly, he asked, “Why do you bring this up?” You let out a slow breath, organizing your words carefully. “I just…” You hesitated, then met his gaze. “I don’t want you to do anything.” A flicker of something crossed his face

For a moment, Shadow Milk Cookie merely regarded you, his expression unreadable in the dim candlelight. He did not interrupt, nor did he immediately refute your words. And because he did not stop you, you took it as permission to continue. “I don’t want you to do anything,” you repeated, quieter this time, steady despite the slight tension in your chest. “Not because I think they deserve kindness, or because I think what they did was right. But… I understand where they’re coming from.” Shadow Milk Cookie’s gaze did not waver, but you knew he was listening. “They’re ambitious,” you went on, fingers curling slightly against the parchment before you forced them to relax. “And they’re scared. Not of me specifically, but of what I represent a disruption to what they thought was a given. They’ve worked hard, and suddenly, I’m here. To them, I must look like some sort of obstacle, someone who doesn’t belong.” His brow arched slightly at that, and for a moment, it seemed as though he might interrupt. But he didn’t. He let you speak. “I’m not saying they were right to do what they did,” you clarified. “But I don’t think they’re beyond reason, either. And besides…” You exhaled, leaning back in your chair. “It doesn’t bother me as much as it did before. Not when I have people who remind me that I’m worth more than just what they say about me.”

Your thoughts flickered to Chai Latte Cookie’s teasing reassurances, to Hazelnut Biscotti Cookie’s grumbled but sincere encouragement, to Earl Grey Cookie’s quiet, knowing nods. Your friends had made all the difference. “And,” you added, with a small, almost self-deprecating smile, “it’s not like I come across them often. A rumor here or there doesn’t change anything.” Silence stretched between you, comfortable but weighted. Shadow Milk Cookie observed you for a long moment, his gaze impossibly sharp, as if seeing through every word you had just spoken, examining them from every possible angle. Then, slowly, he closed the book in front of him, folding his hands atop the cover. “I see,” he said at last. You weren’t sure what you had expected him to say, perhaps a reminder that their cruelty was undeserved, or an argument against giving them the benefit of the doubt. But instead, he only studied you for a moment longer before inclining his head slightly.

“If that is your wish,” he continued, voice steady, measured, “then I will not bar them from my work.” A pause, deliberate. “But know this I do not tolerate those who act with dishonesty and malice under the guise of scholarship. Should their ambitions lead them down such a path again, I will not turn a blind eye.” Something about the way he said it sent a small shiver down your spine not out of fear, but out of the sheer certainty in his voice. But he would leave it be. Because you asked him to. You let out a slow breath. “Thank you.” For a while, neither of you spoke. There was no need to. The air between you felt… different. Not tense, not heavy, but changed in a way you couldn’t quite place. And then, as if to ground the moment, Shadow Milk Cookie reached for the book once more, tapping the spine with his fingers before giving you a knowing look. “Now,” he said, as if the previous conversation had not just altered something between you, “shall we return to the matter of anchor points? I believe you were on the verge of an insightful conclusion before we strayed.” You blinked, caught off guard for only a moment before a quiet laugh escaped you.

“Right,” you murmured, shaking your head slightly, feeling something ease in your chest. “Anchor points.” And just like that, the conversation shifted. The study session continued. But the space between you felt warmer now, quieter in a way that spoke of understanding. The shift back to familiarity was subtle but unmistakable. The moment passed, and with it, so did the quiet intimacy that had lingered between you. Shadow Milk Cookie resumed his teaching with the same practiced cadence, his tone even and assured, his presence once more untouchable. That barrier, the one that had always separated you returned as if it had never wavered in the first place. He was, once again, the Sage of Truth, a figure illuminated by knowledge, impossibly distant, his wisdom something to be reached for rather than held. And yet, the difference remained. Because now, you knew that distance was not born from indifference. It was not meant to keep you away. It was a reminder, a challenge, an unspoken expectation that if you wished to stand beside him, you had to work for it. “Anchor points,” he repeated, drawing you back to the present, his voice smooth yet unwavering. He gestured toward the parchment before you, quill tapping against the edge of your notes. “You were on the cusp of something, were you not? An observation that has yet to be spoken?” Right. Your thoughts, your conclusions you hadn’t quite finished them.

You straightened slightly, looking down at the diagrams you had been sketching just moments before. “Right,” you murmured. “Anchor points. I was thinking…” You hesitated only briefly, then pressed forward, confidence threading into your voice. “If a locus can absorb excess energy and keep an enchantment from unraveling, then hypothetically could an unstable enchantment be sustained by multiple anchor points, even if none are strong enough on their own?” A beat of silence. And then Shadow Milk Cookie smiled. “An interesting proposition.” He leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming with something keen and knowing. “Tell me how do you intend to prove it?”

The barrier was there, but now, you understood what it meant. It was not a wall to keep you out. It was a threshold. A line drawn between what was and what could be. If you wanted to reach him if you wanted to stand beside him in the pursuit of truth you had to keep moving forward. And so, you did. Your fingers skimmed the edges of your notes, but you weren’t searching for the answer; you already knew it. The knowledge sat firmly in your mind, stitched together from the hours spent combing through the library’s archives, cross-referencing theories, and scribbling annotations into the margins of your own texts. You inhaled, steadying yourself, and spoke with newfound confidence. “By distributing the load between multiple anchor points, the enchantment’s energy would be diffused rather than concentrated on a single locus,” you began, your voice even. “If structured correctly, it would prevent any one point from being overwhelmed, allowing the enchantment to hold even in unstable conditions.”

A pause, then you continued, “This method is particularly effective when dealing with ley lines that shift in response to external forces. I came across a study in Theoretical Applications of Arcane Stability that proposed a similar concept, though it focused more on geographical stabilization rather than constructed enchantments. The researcher compared it to the way bridges are built how weight distribution is key to preventing collapse. If enchantments were layered in the same manner, using a reinforced framework rather than relying on a single stabilizing force, the risk of failure would be significantly reduced.” Shadow Milk Cookie had been watching you carefully from the moment you spoke, but now, something shifted in his expression. He was intrigued you could tell by the slight narrowing of his eyes, the way his fingers lightly tapped against the desk in thought. Encouraged, you pushed forward. “And in cases where the enchantment still fails, it wouldn’t be a full collapse. The energy would disperse across the weaker anchor points first, like controlled failure points in architecture. Instead of shattering completely, it would degrade in sections, allowing for reinforcement before it’s too late.”

The words left your lips effortlessly, not because you were reciting something memorized, but because you understood it. The long hours in the library, the frustration of deciphering unfamiliar theories, the moments of realization when things finally clicked it all led to this. Shadow Milk Cookie leaned back slightly, his ever-present smile shifting into something more contemplative. “Ah,” he murmured, eyes gleaming with something you couldn’t quite place. “You have been busy.” You didn’t respond right away, letting the statement settle between you. It wasn’t a mere observation. It was recognition. And perhaps, just perhaps, a hint of something close to pride. You frowned slightly, tilting your head. “What do you mean by that?” Shadow Milk Cookie’s expression didn’t shift immediately, as if he were weighing his response before offering it. His fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping against the desk, folding neatly together instead. “You have been busy,” he repeated, though slower this time, as if letting you sit with the words. “The depth of your answer, the connections you’ve drawn, is not the result of mere memorization. It is the mark of someone who has sought knowledge beyond what was simply given to them.” You blinked, not quite sure how to take that. “I… just wanted to be prepared,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. Shadow Milk Cookie chuckled softly. “Preparation, yes. But also curiosity. You are no longer merely struggling to keep up, you are actively pursuing understanding. That is a distinction many fail to make.”

You pursed your lips, glancing down at your notes. You supposed there was truth to what he was saying, but it hadn’t felt all that grand when you were elbow-deep in books, squinting at complicated diagrams under dim library light. To you, it had just been necessary. Still, hearing it aloud acknowledgment from someone like him sent a strange warmth curling in your chest. “…I guess I have been busy,” you admitted, almost shyly. Shadow Milk Cookie’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but whatever it was, it softened the usual sharpness in his gaze. “Indeed,” he murmured. “And it does not go unnoticed.” Something about the way he said it made you pause, unsure of whether the slight flutter in your chest was from pride or something else entirely. You stretched your arms over your head, letting out a sigh before setting your quill down with an exaggerated motion. "I think we've earned a break," you said, a playful lilt in your voice. "Don’t you?"

Shadow Milk Cookie arched a brow, his hands still poised over his own notes. "Oh? Is that so?" You nodded, leaning back slightly in your chair. "I've worked hard. We've worked hard. Surely even the great Sage of Truth can acknowledge that?" For a moment, he simply regarded you, as if assessing whether your request was a serious one. Then, to your surprise, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "Very well," he said, leaning back as well, though with far more poise than you. "A break, then." Your eyes widened slightly before a small grin crept onto your face. "Just like that?" He hummed, his gaze drifting to the window where the fading evening light cast long shadows against the shelves. "You make a compelling argument," he said, tilting his head slightly. "And… I suppose I can admit that you have worked hard." You nearly laughed. "That almost sounded like praise." His lips twitched. "Take it as you will." There was something oddly satisfying about it the way he had agreed so easily, the way he had acknowledged your efforts without hesitation. It wasn’t the first time he had praised you, but this time, it felt different. More natural. More like he had expected nothing less from you. Leaning forward, you rested your chin on your palm. "So, how do you usually spend your breaks?" Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you with mild amusement. "Ah. A break and conversation. You truly are pushing the boundaries of indulgence today." You laughed, shaking your head. "Come on, humor me." He let out a long-suffering sigh, but there was no real exasperation in it. "Reading, usually. Or organizing my research notes."You groaned. "That doesn’t count as a break." His eyes glimmered with something unreadable. "Then tell me what does?"

You tapped your fingers against the desk, pretending to think. "Oh, I don't know… maybe something that doesn’t involve more work?" Shadow Milk Cookie simply smiled, resting his chin against his hand as if waiting to see what else you'd say. And somehow, in the quiet warmth of his office, with papers scattered between you and the weight of study lifted just for a moment, the space between you felt smaller than before. You tapped your fingers idly against the desk, your mind drifting in the quiet lull of your break. Shadow Milk Cookie had gone eerily still, as he often did when lost in thought, his expression unreadable as he absently traced the spine of a nearby book. A slow smile crept onto your lips as you recalled something from a past conversation. "You know," you began, tilting your head slightly, "I remember you once mentioned that you play the harpsichord. And that you compose, too." Shadow Milk Cookie’s fingers stilled. His eyes flicked to yours, his expression unreadable. "Ah," he mused. "So you do listen." You rolled your eyes. "Of course, I do. I just think it's interesting. You never bring it up on your own." "Because it is not relevant to our studies," he said smoothly, but you caught the faintest ghost of amusement in his tone. You leaned forward slightly. "Still, I’ve heard people say you play beautifully. And that your compositions are…" You hesitated for a moment, recalling the exact words you'd overheard in the library. "Otherworldly. That when you play, it sounds like something from another time like the echoes of a forgotten truth." That earned you a soft chuckle, brief but undeniably genuine. "Poetic." "Fitting, isn't it?" You smiled. "You said earlier that we deserved a break. Why not make it a proper one? I'd like to hear you play." Shadow Milk Cookie regarded you in silence, his gaze searching. You had learned by now that these pauses were not a dismissal, but a consideration. You held steady under his watchful eyes, refusing to shrink away. Then, finally, he sighed, shaking his head in quiet surrender. "...Very well." Your heart did an embarrassing little flip. "Really?" "Do not mistake this for indulgence," he said, but there was the faintest hint of a smile on his lips. "It is simply… a brief detour." You nodded, hiding the giddiness threatening to show on your face. He rose from his seat with that same effortless grace, and you followed as he led the way. There was something different about this moment, something softer. Perhaps, just this afternoon, he was allowing himself to let you in. You followed him through the sunlit corridors of the Scholars’ Wing, your footsteps barely making a sound against the polished floors. The afternoon light filtered in through tall, arched windows, casting long golden streaks across the walls. Eventually, he stopped before a set of grand double doors carved with intricate filigree, faint traces of enchantment woven into the wood. The air here felt different, quieter, almost reverent. Shadow Milk Cookie pressed his palm against the doors, and with a quiet click, they eased open. Inside, the room was bathed in warm sunlight, illuminating rows of instruments resting in careful arrangements. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood and parchment, the unmistakable hush of a space meant for creation rather than conversation. At the center of the room, placed as if it were the beating heart of it all, sat a harpsichord, its ornate frame gleaming in the afternoon glow.

You hesitated in the doorway, taking in the grandeur of it all. “This place…” You glanced at him, brows furrowing. “This is where the best composers practice, isn’t it?” Shadow Milk Cookie walked forward, his steps unhurried as his fingers trailed along the edge of the harpsichord. “A common misconception,” he mused. “Just because something resides within the Scholars’ Wing does not mean it is solely for the best. It is for those who seek knowledge. For those willing to listen.” You blinked, turning his words over in your mind. His voice carried the same layered meaning it always did, never quite saying everything outright, always leaving space for something more. Your gaze drifted back to the harpsichord. “And you?” you asked. “Did you come here because you were ‘one of the best’ or because you wanted to listen?” He paused, his fingers stilling against the polished wood. There was something unreadable in his expression before he finally spoke. “…Both.” You huffed a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “Of course.”

A/N I hope this update is to everyone's expectations next update is hopefully Friday!!! But I'm not sure if I'll be able to update this weekend, I have to lock in. Also, I want to hear no harpsichord slander/j, seriously, I don't know, but I have this strange fascination with that instrument.

anyways...

Remember to follow and reblog for more bangers 😎😎😎🔥🔥🔥🔥

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pboogerswbb · 1 month ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 11

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut), uhh badly proofread Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: hii i know i know i promised this yesterday but i nearly had a panic attack so i couldn't, my bad. i'm good now! please enjoy this before paige's last game at XL :((

Before London

“So as everyone can see, here we have a list of statistics showing the viewership per video and definitely can see an increase from last year, content with Paige seems to do extremely well like we…”

Linda’s voice blends into the background sounds of cutlery and plates and chatter filling the dining hall. For some reason my boss thought an impromptu media team meeting was in order and showed up to College Park Center unannounced. She wanted to catch up on what sort of content attracted most viewership, and to evaluate what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t have cared less - all I knew is I was doing a good job, fantastic even. I’m not sure why I had to sit through something I already knew just to have Linda reiterate it to me. It wasn’t like me to be resistant to a meeting, or to praise from my superior but I was far too distracted.

My eyes involuntarily keep travelling to the table on the far right where Paige was sitting with her teammates, voice echoing around the walls of the building. A sound I fear I might never get tired of. The blonde is leaning back on her chair, chugging water, biceps more prominent than usual after spending all morning in the weight room. I knew this because she had driven me to work, despite having time off saying she needed to lift. I knew it wasn’t in her schedule as I had, almost accidentally, memorised it. Still there she had been, outside my door with a hazelnut latte, always somehow the perfect temperature whenever she brought me my coffee order. I hated when it was too hot.

As if sensing me, her blue eyes shift from Arike to me, locking with my gaze. Immediately I blush, trying to hide the smirk growing onto my face. But I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand to hide it from the team, particularly Linda, Paige’s mouth twisting into a bright smile in response. Yet we don’t break eye contact, keeping our eyes on each other.

Linda had been surprisingly credulous to my claims of a migraine when I missed work just a couple days ago. Since the night the blonde turned my entire world on its head. I hadn’t been able to think of anything ever since except the weight of her lips on my skin, her eager touch and starved eyes. I had been craving her every second since we drove back to Dallas. I needed more. As much as it pained me to admit.

With a grin on her face, Paige grabs her phone and types for a while, my screen lighting up with a notification.

Paige

Did i say how beautiful you look today yet

I blush, tapping underneath the table.

You did. A few times in the car.

Matter of fact she had been repeating it between sentences, and almost crashed the car twice because of how badly she had been staring.

Gotta tell you again

Takin my breath away all the way from over there

Finest girl I swearrrrr

I can’t help but smile.

You look like you’re breathing fine 🙄

I lift my gaze, seeing the blonde rubbing her chest and looking at her phone with a smirk.

Trust me ma

What Linda doin here?

Some sort of unnecessary meeting, I’m not sure why.

What time you getting off work?

I have a couple things to do after this but if you’re done you can go home, I’ll take a cab.

Fuck no i’ll wait

I could do some stretchin

You should join me

I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head to myself.

Paige!!

What??? Would be good for those tense muscles yk

Could think of sum other stuff to relax you too 😏😏

With a scoff I glance at the blonde who’s already looking with a playful, devilish grin. I look at her scoldingly, watching as she raises her brows and bites her lower lip to kill the smile before pointing at her phone, showing me she wants me to reply.

Why do I have an idea of what that might be?

Yeah?

“So what do you think Izara?” Linda asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uhh… Of?” I murmur, placing my phone screen down onto the table, thighs burning with the memory of how good the blonde had made me feel just a few days before.

“Do you think we can reach our goal followers-wise or are we being too ambitious?”

I quickly pull myself together, though I’ve barely heard a word. “Certainly if we keep pumping out content every day.” I don’t actually even know what goal we’re talking about.

However, my answer satisfies Linda, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Excellent!”

“Excuse me,” I hum, getting up from the table to grab an extra bottle of water. Paige, who has been watching, does the same, unable to not take advantage of the opportunity to talk to me.

I feel a gentle bump on my arm, eyes immediately snapping to the girl who’s looking smug as I eye the bottles.

“Hey pretty girl,” she whispers, placing a hand on my lower back. I quickly glance back at the media team to make sure no one was looking. To my relief they’re all too busy leaning in to stare at Trey who’s showcasing our latest content on his phone.

“Hey you,” I reply, my voice soft, quiet so no one can hear. Paige stands behind me, eyes skimming the different bottles of drinks as if mulling over her decision on what to get. But I know better. She’s stalling to stay talking to me. We had barely had any time to spend alone, my mind too busy wrapped up with work, Paige spending every waking moment on the court trying to get her shot back.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, reaching over for the bottle and holding it in my hand. Paige thinks for a second, grabbing a bottle of gatorade. All I can do is stare at her hands, mesmerised. Perfect hands that made me feel so incredible.

“Uhh nothing, why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Paige’s ears turn red, as she clears her throat, the idea immediately getting the younger girl flustered.

“Y-Yeah okay Iz,” she whispers, voice trembling a little. The effect I have on the girl makes me smile. It pleased me to know I had so much power over her. Little did she know she held just as much power over me, I was just much better at hiding it. However, my cheeks turn a hint of pink thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once we get a moment alone.

“Okay Paige,” I smile, eyes stuck on her flushed face. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

Waiting a couple hours had turned out to be much harder than I had planned, the thought of Paige’s hands on my body enough to have me growing wet in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer to feel the younger girl on me. Paige had felt the same, which had led us to our current predicament, my back pushed against the door of the storage room, the girl kissing my neck feverishly as my hands roam her body. The door handle digs into my lower back painfully but I barely notice.

“Paige,” I whimper, but she silences me with a heated kiss, tongue slipping past my lips into my mouth. My kisses are needy, desperate, a quiet moan spilling out when Paige’s hand kneads my ass, my short skirt hiking up as she does.

“You’re so sexy ma,” the blonde groans, lips glistening as she pulls back to look at me. “Killing me in a skirt like that.”

“Wore it for you,” I tease. Paige melts, moaning just from my words.

My arms wrap around her shoulders as I pull her back into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss by her hair. The blonde groans, lifting my skirt to squeeze the bare skin underneath, eyes opening to see the purple silk panties I was wearing. I hadn’t been prepared for the first time we slept together the way I liked to be, but after a meeting with my wax lady and a vigorous exfoliation routine last night I was prepared for her, my skin silky and smooth all for her from my head to my toes.

“Look at that,” she whispers, pulling back enough to admire the underwear sitting against my golden skin. “Goddamn.”

“Want you,” I hum, looking at her with round, pleading eyes. Paige takes a deep breath through her nose, groaning as she throws her head back. I know I’m driving her insane.

“We can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. I’m taken back, slightly embarrassed. I never thought she’d reject me.

“Why not?”

Paige notices the surprise in my face, her blue eyes widening. “No, I want to. So fucking bad, you got no idea baby,” she starts, looking me up and down.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, getting annoyed which in turn makes my brows furrow.

“Iz I can’t just keep sleeping with you,” she sighs. “You’re more than that. You deserve more.”

I shake my head, pulling Paige back in by her sweaty T-shirt. She kisses me softly, nuzzling her nose into mine.

“I don’t care. I want you,” I repeat, the ache between my thighs nearly unbearable.

“I care,” the girl whispers, resting her forehead on mine. “Need to take you out on a date before we… y’know.”

I’m surprised, my eyes fluttering open.

“Need to do this right Izzie,” she hums, kissing the top of my head. “Need to take you out before I do all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”

I nearly collapse at her words, grateful for the strength of her grip on my hips.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the blonde pull my skirt back down hesitantly.

“Please, lemme treat you right ma,” she pleads, kissing both my cheeks softly. “Lemme take you out. Been dying to, ever since I saw you. Please.”

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror once more. White shorts and a white oversized button up, both neatly pressed not a single wrinkle on them. I’ve really gotten tan here. I lean closer to add the signature diamond studs onto my ears, smoothing over the hair slicked back into a low bun. I check my nails one more time, making sure each one is short and filed up to my standards. No, not mine. Up to Izzie’s standards. I look good, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. For my gorgeous, perfect London girl.

I grab the huge bouquet of white lilies and head downstairs, toying with my silver chain as I knock on the door. I don’t remember the last time I had been nervous over a girl before Izzie. So much for my plans to stay celibate this season. Like clockwork, the door opens.

I feel breathless when I see her. She’s wearing a bronze coloured satin dress, the perfect contrast against her skin, with spaghetti straps and a slightly plunging neckline, her breasts on display just enough to make me wanna look for a little too long. The dress isn’t too tight, clinging to her curves in all the right places, the hem ending at her calves. Her skin glows from her arms decorated with gold bracelets, all the way down to her calves and feet, beautifully arched in matching sandals. Izzie looks stunning, glowing with the power of a hundred suns.

I let out a low whistle, unsure what to say. I feel flustered, nervous in front of her. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time all over again, two months ago in this same hallway.

“Whoa,” is all I can say, my palms sweating already.

Izzie giggles and then she does something I’ll never get over. She simply tilts her head, sharp eyes sparkling at me, slender fingers reaching over and fixing the collar of my shirt. And my knees nearly buckle.

“We don’t need to go out,” I mutter, leaning down to kiss the girl. But she tuts softly, pulling back and placing two fingers on my chin to stop me sternly.

“Lipgloss,” she grins, pushing my face back by my jaw playfully. “And yes we do, took me three hours to get ready.”

I can see that, every strand of her black hair carefully set in uniform waves running down her back. All I can do is stare at her, mouth open.

“Paige?” Izzie giggles.

“What?” I ask, cheeks bright red.

“The flowers?”

I glance down at the bouquet in my hand, handing them to the girl. “Oh yeah, these are for you,” I laugh awkwardly, nearly unable to look the girl in the eye.

“I love lilies,” she gleams, inhaling their scent and humming contentedly.

“I know, you told me,” I smile, stepping in as she turns her back on me to put the flowers in a vase. My eyes travel from her hair downwards to the curve of her ass just for a moment, fighting the urge to pull up the hem and dive between her legs. I quickly glance up, trying to keep myself in check. Date first. Be respectful.

“You remembered,” Izzie smiles to herself, setting the flowers onto her dining table. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The girl turns to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders and kissing me lovingly.

“What about your lipgloss?” I mumble against her lips, one hand on her lower back, the other on her neck pulling her in.

“I’ll reapply,” she sighs. I loved the way she was, meticulous and disciplined. But my God did I adore the way she had loosened up around me, the way she seemed to have a newfound ease about her. How she arrived to work yesterday wearing pants and flats, giggling with her co-workers lightheartedly, the pearls of her laughter echoing around every room she entered.

“Shit,” I pull back from the kiss with a struggle. “I got us a car baby, we should go.”

Iz whines in a way that pulls at my heartstrings, her brows furrowing in desperation, tracing her fingers up and down my arms, squeezing my biceps that had grown exponentially during my time in the league.

“You look so gorgeous,” Izzie hums, smoothing over my collar one last time, leaning close and pressing a kiss onto my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“C’mon,” I sigh. “If we don’t go now we ain’t ever gon leave.”

“Paige,” I gasp as she opens the car door for me and I realise where we are.

“What? You like?” The blonde grins, offering her hand to help me out and watching my face for approval. I step onto the pavement, wrapping my arm around hers as we walk into the building, the doorman letting us in with a polite smile. We step into the gorgeous, high-end restaurant, Paige smoothly letting the hostess know that we had arrived.

I had mentioned Monarch countless times in conversation, brought up how the customer from Dallas that left an irrevocable mark on me made me swear to dine there at least once in my life. It was on the pricier side, and I’d grown used to a certain lifestyle which my current pay couldn't maintain so I had been burning through my savings - it simply wasn’t in the budget. Except now, with this millionaire girl on my arm I suppose it did. Truthfully, I would’ve been happy with less. But I won’t lie that she really hit the nail on the head with this one. I mean she listened. Remembering my brother’s name, my favourite flower, now this? She really listened to me. I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Paige,” is all I can mutter out with a happy sigh, my mouth twisting to a smile. Paige tugs at her silver chain absentmindedly, her eyes flickering around the room before always landing back on me.

I slide myself into the booth, Paige following behind me, making me laugh.

“Paige, your plate is on that side,” I giggle, pointing to the set cutlery opposite of me.

“I’ll ask em to move it over here,” she mumbles, her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close so my side presses into hers, the pressure of her thigh on mine.

“Isn’t that gonna look a little silly?” I chuckle, watching as Paige reaches over the table and moves her entire table arrangement next to mine. I blush, looking around hoping no one noticed. This was a nice place. I could tell it wasn’t the blonde’s scene. Something about that made this even more endearing. It was all for me.

“Ion care if it does, it’s too far from you,” she whines, entangling her fingers with mine underneath the table. My eyes land on her blue ones, her face only a few inches from me. Paige licks her lips, her gaze flickering to my lips. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs return just from the sheer proximity of the blonde, and the smell of her cologne.

“Wanna kiss you so bad right now,” she whispers, both our breathing growing heavy. I nod, wanting the same. But we both knew it was better not to. After Luka was traded out of Dallas Paige was one of the biggest athletes in the entire city. A household name easily. We weren’t just sneaking around behind Linda’s back, we had to keep this on the low from the whole world. It’s not like we had to talk about it - we both knew it.

“Gotta wait,” I hum, jumping slightly as the waiter interrupts the moment, looking to take our orders. Paige, in her American manner, orders multiple side dishes and salads for us to share, the table filled with Wagyu Carpaccio and Octopus. But the real star of the night is the lamb, which the customer made me swear to get if I ever ended up at Monarch.

“Oh my Gosh,” I groan quietly, letting the meat melt into my mouth. I smooth the napkin on my lap, the luxurious linen smooth underneath my palm. Taking a sip of my Merlot, I notice Paige beside me, cutting the gorgeous lamb into multiple bite-size pieces before putting the knife down and beginning to eat with the fork. I watch, astonished, amused and embarrassed at the same time.

“You are so American,” I laugh, swallowing the wine and covering my mouth. The younger girl turns to me, confused.

“Whatchu mean?” She giggles but I eye her plate, rolling my eyes.

“Can you not eat with a fork and a knife at the same time?” I ask, raising my brows. Paige huffs, though the small curl a the corner of her mouth tells me she’s basking in my slightly condescending tone, the scolding lilt of my voice.

“Guess you’ll have to teach me your fancy English ways huh?”

“Oh my Gosh,” I sigh amused.

“The fork is in the wrong handddd,” she complains, continuing to eat, fork on the right hand. I make a mental note to teach her table manners before she meets my parents. Then, realising that she never would, decide to stay quiet. This is just a fling, a summer romance at most. A rebound - it’s what I tell myself to ease the slight panic in my chest when I thought more about what the end of the season would bring, me going back home to London, leaving my American girl here. My one summer in Dallas, cruel and much too short. Just a few months is all we’d ever get. Against my nature, I try not to worry about it, hoving the anxiety to some deep, dark corner of my mind, under all the other things I didn’t want to deal with.

The moment I notice my glass is empty, the blonde is already reaching for the jug of water and pouring me some. I watch closely, heart fluttering with affection.

Dinner is amazing, a dream come true. The food, of course, delicious. But even better is the satisfied smile on the dark haired girl’s face. The way her eyes gleamed every time she looked at me. The sound of her sweet laughter whenever I did anything she redeemed “American”. The slightly condescending manner with which she corrected my table manners, praising me every time I did something right. Every cell in me wanted to please her. Hear more of her “good job” and “that’s it”. Feel the hand on my shoulder squeezing, affirming her words. I was ecstatic, even more so knowing that this was just the first of many dates. That I would get to take Izara out for years to come, hear her praises forever if I played my cards right. And I desperately wanted this to be forever. I know I was going way too fast. But I couldn’t help my mind from picturing her in a white dress, playing with our children, waiting for me at home after practice.

“I’m so full,” Izzie sighs, leaning back against the booth and rubbing up and down my arm affectionately. “You did so good with this darling.”

I melt, my eyes nearly rolling back at her praise, never mind the pet name.

“Lemme order you some dessert,” I nearly whine, my plate finished much earlier than Izara’s.

The girl leans over and checks the dessert menu, quickly skimming it over and scrunching her face.

“You too full baby?”

“Could we just go out and get some ice cream from a stand?” The girl asks, her green eyes fluttering at me. How could I ever say no?

“You sure? They got some nice dessert here. Fancy,” I ask, flipping the menu over in my hand. I wanted the girl to have whatever she wanted. I wanted to give her the entire world.

Izzie nods, placing her hand on my thigh. “Don’t want fancy, just want some ice cream.” I’m surprised, thinking the fancier the better. Maybe I was wrong.

The Dallas night is still as hot as the day, but there’s a pleasant breeze in place of the scorching sun from earlier. Izara looks even more beautiful in the glow of the city lights and under the twinkling night sky. I can’t tear my eyes away, nearly running into a pole from staring at her so much.

“Could I taste yours?” Izzie asks, handing me her chocolate ice cream cone. Wordlessly, without hesitation, I give her my strawberry cone, honestly ready to turn around and order five more of them for her.

I watch closely as Izara’s tongue darts out to taste the ice cream, a jolt running down my spine to my core, with dirty thoughts flooding my mind.

“Mmh, this is delicious,” she murmurs.

“Take it,” I say without hesitation. Izzie hums, accepting my offer quickly. Almost as if she expected it. Something about it drove me wild.

We walk around the city, hand in hand, easily blending in with the crowd, not worrying about familiar faces, making sure that with every turn I was walking on the street side, keeping her safe. I felt proud walking side by side with Izara, knowing that people walking by knew she was all mine. That I got a girl like this, far from my league. I wanted everyone to know that she’s mine - having to keep this hidden would turn out to be much harder than I imagined. Still, the idea of this being our little secret felt exciting.

The breeze and the ice cream cause goosebumps to form all over Izzie’s arms, a slight chill running through her. I curse myself in my head for not bringing a sweater, making a mental note to never go anywhere without one for her from now on.

“You ever miss London?” I ask, pulling her closer by her waist out of the way of someone walking by.

“No,” she quickly replies, surprisingly bluntly. I’m taken aback.

“Not at all?”

Izzie shakes her head. “Too many bad things in London.”

I immediately understand what she means. Jasper. At least the desperate phone calls had seemed to stop.

“You really don’t miss anything?”

The dark haired girl thinks for a while. “Well, I miss the chocolate. Nothing here tastes like Cadbury.”

We walk around, eager to finish the chocolate ice cream Iz ordered, but I slow down, trying to match the pace with which she’s eating out of politeness. My blue eyes roam her face, trying to memorise each little detail. Her dark, perfectly arched brows, long lashes darkened with mascara, plump lips with only a hint of the lipstick from earlier, fading from eating the ice cream. Her dark curls stick to her neck, desperate to escape the carefully shaped waves, golden necklace dangling at her collarbone. I reach over, my cold fingers making the girl jump when they adjust the clasp, dragging against her skin from the base of her neck to the back.

We come to a stop, Izara’s green eyes lined with black glimmering, her face turning different colors as ads flash red, blue, green on a screen by the sidewalk. The words spill from between my lips faster than I can think, let alone stop myself.

“I really like you Iz,” I murmur, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I mean, I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

Her breath hitches, eyes softening only for a moment, and then widening. With surprise? With panic? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t something you said on a first date. I wanted to smack the back of my own head for that. I quickly look up, in a momentary prayer hoping God would let me rewind just 20 seconds. But no one answers my request.

“Shit, I’m sorry if it’s too much. You don’t gotta say anything okay?” I tell Izzie, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s okay love,” she smiles, thumb brushing against my skin comfortingly. However, I see a hint of hesitation on her face. “But Paige I thi-”

“Look, let’s just forget I said that aight?” I ask, my chest aching, begging to God I didn’t just ruin this before it could even start.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, trying to comfort me. But I could tell she felt uneasy about something. “I think we just gotta remember that we need to be really careful about this, yeah?”

I sigh nodding. She’s right. “Yeah.”

“I mean the stakes aren't the same for you and me. If we get caught,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath. “I’ll be back in London in no time. You however would be completely fine.”

I nod, wanting the girl to know I was really hearing her out. “Gon be really careful okay?”

“No slip ups.”

“No ma’am,” I answer reassuringly.

“And you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Arike, not Lou, no one. They can’t know.”

“I agree,” I tell the girl. “Look, I meant what I said. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be.”

The girl smiles, for a moment I think there’s a hint of sadness there, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. “Today’s been… amazing.”

I bite my lower lip, hand coming to her lower back just for a moment. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as hearing her praise. Maybe winning the national championship. Top two things I’ve ever experienced.

“Wanted it to be special for you, Iz,” I hum, blushing a little. Just as she’s about to answer, her phone rings.

“It’s Trey,” she murmurs. Of course it is. I can’t help but roll my eyes, watching as she raises the phone to her ear and answers. That’s how we walk back to the car, the girl next to me talking animatedly on the phone about whatever, my irritation growing with each moment. I knew they were friends. But everytime she giggled or laughed at whatever the man on the phone was saying, my jaw clenched and breathing grew heavier.

“Okay, Trey I really must go. I’ll see you in a couple days,” Izzie, who had been trying to politely end the call, says. I hear Trey’s defiant protests all the way from the driver’s seat, making me want to grab the girl’s phone and hang up for her.

Iz laughs politely at whatever he said. “Treeyy, I’ll talk to you about this at work okay? Alright, bye now.”

Finally, she hangs up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it might be about work but he was just calling to explain about some sort of couch he was considering getting,” Iz chuckles, finally turning her gaze to me.I feel my annoyance settle down the moment her eyes land on me. Having her attention just had the effect of soothing me. Still, it bothered me that the girl was so oblivious to Trey’s obsession with her. I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek.

“What?” Izzie asks, noticing my irritation as we sit in the parked car.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Izara rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with that again.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

I turn to her, raising my brows. “You prolly don’t see it but I do. He’s always calling or texting you, following you around or tryna touch you. All the time. He obsessed, trust.”

Izzie scoffs, turning to me. “I think you’re just reading into it too much.”

I shake my head. “He likes you.”

She looks like she's about to get defensive, but then her face softens. “Well, even if he does, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my voice growing needy.

“No darling,” she hums quietly, reaching over and placing her dainty hand on mine. “I couldn’t care less about Trey.”

My heart flutters, the warmth in my chest spreading all over my body, chills forming underneath her touch. All the frustration and annoyance that had been growing are replaced with affection now that I feel reassured

“Yeah?” I ask carefully, nearly flinching at how whiny it comes out.

Izzie smiles, leaning over the center console and kissing my cheek. I catch a whiff of the pear and lavender notes of her perfume, my head spinning.

“Yeah.”

I lean over too, my lips finally crashing against hers, both hands holding her face gently like a baby bird, doing everything in my power not to disrupt her. Her lips taste like strawberries, and a hint of red wine from dinner. The wine had loosened Izzie up, her body turning into putty in the passenger seat just from one kiss.

Her hands wrap around my neck, scratching at the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. I groan, arousal growing quickly between my thighs. A passing car honks, reminding me of our surroundings and the fact that the windows were not tinted. At the sudden realisation, I pull back abruptly, wiping my lips.

Izzie looks breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted and glossy.

You wanna come to mine, ma?” I ask, or rather plead. The thought of getting to bring her home after had been the only force to give me the strength to keep my hands to myself all night.

“Yes,” she simply exhales. I feel a thrill, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to head towards our home, my hand never leaving her thigh, mind filled with the thoughts of lifting the skirt and diving into her.

My chest heaves as we climb the stairs, Izara’s heels tapping against the marble and echoing in the corridor. As I open the door, I let the dark-haired girl in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

“Whoa,” she gasps. Stepping inside after her, I watch her face brighten as a trail of red rose petals on the floor leads all the way to the bedroom, just as I had set them before picking her up.

I step closer, pressing my front against her back, leaning down to kiss her neck as my hands find their position on her waist. I loved that even in heels she was a few inches shorter than me. Her body melts into me quickly, the curve of her ass pressing into my hips. The satin is smooth and cool under my fingertips, and her neck smells like her perfume and the fruity hair products she uses. Guava?

“You did this?” she asks, her voice gasping as my lips glide against her neck, feeling for her pulse under my kisses.

Finally, I find the steady beating on the side of her long neck, my lips wrapping around it and sucking. Izzie exhales softly, her hands finding mine at her waist.

“Mhmm,” I hum, nuzzling my nose into her ear before kissing it feverishly. I needed her so desperately, like I had been travelling the desert for days and finally found an oasis filled with fresh water and sweet fruit and cool shade. I’m surprised I’m even able to stand upright.

“Oh so you knew I’d be coming over? That’s how you see me?” Her voice is stern, sending a jolt through my body. It makes me want to get on my knees and apologize, repent.

“N-No baby, I mean I was hopin’ but I didn’t assume. Iz, I swear I don-”

I’m joking, Paige,” she laughs, craning her neck to look into my face, an amused smile on her lips. My cheeks turn red as I laugh at myself.

I walk the girl forward, following the rose petals into the bedroom. They reach the bed, the white sheets decorated with the flower petals as well. Izara looks around, a smile on her face. I feel the ache between my thighs grow knowing I had made her happy.

Before I can say anything, she flips around to face me, kissing me heatedly. Her mouth is wide open against mine, tongue circling mine and fingers digging into my shoulders.

“Lemme light the candles,” I hiss, furrowing my brows and trying to pull away. But Izzie pulls me in by my collar, kissing me again.

“Fuck the candles,” she murmurs and, to my surprise, walks me backward into the bed.

I crash onto my back, Izzie pushing me down by my chest. “Let me dim the lights,” she says, but I grab her hand.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my brows furrowing. “Wanna see you baby.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently. “Please.”

Izzie pulls her hand back, convinced by the simple gesture, and reaches behind her back to her zipper. She unzips the dress far too slow, driving me insane. I wanted her now. So I whine, furrowing my brows and squirming on the bed, but the girl only shakes her head, slipping one strap off her shoulder. I nearly pass out.

“Patience,” Iz tells me, her voice low and gravelly. I can’t look away, wetting my lips with my tongue as I watch the second strap fall from her shoulder, the dress finally hitting the floor.

“Oh shit,” I murmur to myself, my boxers growing wetter and wetter the moment I realise she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, her body only covered with black lace panties. My gaze is stuck on her chest though, her round breasts covered in goosebumps. Breathing heavy, I sit up, mouth watering to wrap my lips around her hard nipple, to knead the skin.

“Nuh uh,” Izzie snaps, pushing me back down onto my back. I feel a thrill, surprised to find how much this turned me on. I was so used to being the one in charge, I didn’t even know how insanely hot it would be for the dark haired girl to be giving me commands. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have known from the way my core throbbed everytime she demanded something from me.

“Iz,” I groan, watching as her nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt, painfully slowly. I feel like I might pass out.

“Remember what I said baby,” she hums, straddling my hips, thighs becoming even thicker on both sides of me as she sits down on them. Izzie leans down, lips hovering over my ear, hot breath tickling it. “Patience,” she whispers, and then ghosts my skin, leaving me writhing.

Finally she pulls my shirt open, revealing the white sports bra underneath. Her long nail drags from my neck downwards, to my chest, and finally to the muscles of my abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whine, watching the way her eyes darken as she gazes down at me. My hands come to her hips, easily reaching over to knead her ass. To my relief, she lets me, exhaling heavily and throwing her head back as I feel her skin. My hands feel up her sides, to her breast, kneading them in each hand and bucking my hips to look for any relief on my soaked core.

My chest heaves vigorously, right hand dragging downwards, down the skin of her stomach, fingertips dipping into the band. I needed to feel her. Now. I was dying, and I needed to make sure she didn’t feel like I did, desperate and throbbing.

“No,” Iz says, grabbing my wrist. I look at her pleadingly, eyes nearly welling up at the thought of how wet she might be.

“Please,” I whine. “Ride my fingers ma.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut at this, but sternly, she shakes her head. leaning down to kiss me. It’s sloppy, our tongues meeting in heated movements, spit covering both our mouths. The girl on top of me continues her open mouthed kisses, finding her way from my neck downwards. It’s then I realise what she’s about to do, the puddle between my legs growing unbearable.

I maneuver upward on the bed, too wet to notice the nervousness in the girl’s eyes when she starts kissing along the band of my shorts, hands coming to pull them down.

“Fuck ma,” I whimper, my entire body shaking with need. I had been dreaming of this moment, spent many hours lying in my bed with my hand between my legs imagining what her green, sharp, catlike eyes would look watching up at me.

She leaves me in my boxers, nails digging into my inner thighs as she spreads my legs apart.

“Please,” I murmur, eyes fluttering shut from how badly my cunt is soaking through the white boxers.

“What’s wrong my love?” Izzie asks, voice so sweet it’s bordering on condescending as she leans down between my legs, kissing my thighs, biting the skin. The wine had made her bolder, more liberated. It drove me insane.

“Need you baby,” I whine, bucking my hips. It’s no use, the dark haired girl’s hands holding my body still.

“What do you need from me darling?” She asks, fingertips playing with the band of my boxers in a way that made me want to flip her over and take her this very moment.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Baby please. touch me. Gon’ die if you don’t.”

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

She’s pressing kisses on top of the soaked fabric of my boxers now, brushing lightly against my clit. I need more, so insanely bad. I feel like I might explode.

“Mhm,” I whimper, my voice shakier and needier than I liked - not that I cared much in this very moment.

“Tell me baby,” she smiles, looking up at my scrunched up face, slowly pulling down the last layer of fabric between her and where I needed her most.

“I-” I’m stuttering, overwhelmed, feeling like I might cum just purely from the sight. “Your mouth, mama, please.”

As I say the words, she pulls my boxers down, and begins to kiss around my wet cunt, everywhere but where I need her the most. Still, I’m moaning like crazy, knowing there must be a few concerned neighbours listening by now. I couldn’t care less.

Finally, the dark haired girl touches my clit, starting with small kitten licks.

“That’s it, holy shit,” I gasp, hands coming down to her hair, trying to maintain the urge to yank it wherever I want her.

“Mhmm,” she moans against my core, lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently.

“Fuck, you’re so- holy shit,” I murmur, unable to think straight, legs already shaking, chest heaving uncontrollably. I can’t tear my eyes away from hers, as she looks up at me. my thighs on each side of her face.

“Taste so good,” she mumbles, a blush on her cheeks from the filthy words. Still, she keeps going, the vibrations of her moans bringing me closer and closer. Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to start spreading in my abdomen, making my pussy throb around nothing as her tongue flicks back and forth in my folds.

“Make me feel so good, fuck baby, look at you,” I praise, my voice high pitched and whiny. “Look so fuckin’ pretty between my le- aw shit.”

I feel it, already growing hotter and hotter, the fire inside me making my muscles tense.

“I- I’m so cl-” I whimper, yanking on the girl’s hair.

“Baby,” Iz moans, wrapping her lips around my clit while her tongue flicks against it, making it impossible to hold back.

“Keep doin’ that, don’t stop. Don’t st-” I cry out, legs trembling and muscles tensing as the girl between my legs keeps pushing me closer and closer. “Shit mama, I’m gon’ cum.”

With that, I tip over the edge, pleasure crashing through my body, writhing and moaning. The orgasm is just as intense as it was fast, making my grip tighten around Izzie’s hair as she keeps up with the movement of her tongue.

As I come back down, the dark haired girl climbs back up, kissing me with authority. I feel embarrassed, from how wet her face is, and most of all from how fast I came. Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. It was something about her that made me yield, completely submit to her, my body too weak to fight it.

“Well that was quick,” Izzie giggles as she pulls away from me. I roll my eyes, flipping the girl on her back.

“Just wanted it to be your turn fast ma,” I mumble, beginning to kiss her neck.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, P- Paige, fuck,” I cry out, tears filling my eyes as Paige presses on my lower back, pinning my hips down against the mattress. Her fingers are buried deep inside me, slipping in and out of me with a rapid pace, making my pussy drip all over the sheets. It was overwhelming, the strength of her fingers something I had never experienced before - what didn’t help was the three times I had already cum after she finished.

“Just one more, I promise. Swear baby. Can feel how much you’re throbbing around my fingers,” Paige coos, pressing sloppy kisses onto my sweaty back before sitting back up and kneading on the skin of my ass to get deeper inside me. Something about her filthy words made me willing to keep going, my orgasm building quickly from how sensitive I had been left after the past couple hours.

“Baby,” I cry out, grabbing the sheets desperately, tears spilling down my cheeks into the cotton blanket underneath me, sticking to my skin.

“So perfect,” the blonde groans, eyes watching closely the way my pussy molded around her fingers, stretched out just for her, gushing around the long digits slipping in and out.

“P- I’m gonna-” I gasp, back arching as the muscles inside me coil tighter and tighter.

“C’mon ma, lemme make you cum,” she moans, leaning back down and kissing my ear, her hot breath sending chills all over as her fingers keep pumping into me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous you know that?”

With a high pitched whine, the coil finally snaps, my core clenching around her fingers as she makes me cum for the fourth time that night. My entire body trembles, hands grabbing the sheets desperately. The blonde brings her free hand to mine, long digits entangling with mine comfortingly.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” Paige murmurs into my ear, talking me through it as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel sore, tired, but in that moment everything else is forgotten, except the ecstasy taking over my entire existence, and the blonde’s praise in my ear.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the blonde whispers into my ear, slipping her fingers out of me and wrapping a comforting arm around me. In a haze, I nustle myself into her side, still attempting to slow down my rapid breathing.

I chuckle, finally opening my eyes and flipping onto my back. I couldn’t believe how many times she had just gotten me off. Most of all I couldn’t believe I let her do that all to me with all the lights on, and enjoyed it too much to even care.

We both lie in each other’s arms, completely naked. Paige’s blonde hair is falling out of her bun, sweat glistening against her bare arms, covered in veins from the strain. She’s breathing loudly through her nose, watching my face. Surely I looked horrendous, makeup all over my face, hair fully out of place, curls wild and unruly. But the younger girl’s blue eyes continue to stare, soft and adoring. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto my forehead, loaded with emotion - feelings I wasn’t ready to face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispers, nuzzling her nose into mine. My heart flutters almost painfully. At that moment I know - I’m in trouble. That leaving Dallas behind after the season is over won’t be as effortless as I had hoped. I decide to worry about that later, wrapping my leg around the blonde and pressing my naked body against hers.

“So are you,” I murmur, letting Paige cocoon me with her big arms.

"One more time ma, please?"

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#so it goes #lilas writing yaps #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfic #paige bueckers x oc #paige bueckers x fem oc #wnba x oc

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kbwrites · 8 months ago

Text

Up In the Clouds Ch.4

synopsis: you're friends arguing reaches a breaking point... for you. what will you do when you find out the real reason they've been fighting?

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⚝content: sugusato x f!reader, sfw, satosugu arguing, but they're arguing over youuuu

⚝wc: 1.4k

Suguru and Satoru always fought. From the year you’d known the duo, that much was obvious. Petty arguments and stupid disagreements were rampant in your trio. But, at the end of the day—usually forced by you—they would make up. Today, however, there was a disquieting air around them, an unfamiliar tension that gnawed at your peace of mind.

You three were in the courtyard for lunch, a place usually filled with the sounds of your laughter. You and Suguru ate bentos while Satoru dug into a sugary donut.

But something was... different.

No annoying quips from Satoru.

No heavy sighs from Suguru.

Just complete and utter… silence.

The courtyard, bathed in the soft afternoon light, felt oddly still. The rustling of leaves and distant chatter of other students did nothing to alleviate the growing unease. You shifted in your seat, the silence pressing down on you like a weight.

“Did Yaga yell at you two or something?”

Suguru glanced up, his hazelnut-colored eyes narrowing as he finally spoke. “No… it’s not that.”

Satoru scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically behind his dark sunglasses. “Yaga yelling would be wayy easier to deal with than Mr. Perfect.”

The raven-haired teen’s jaw clenched. “Oh, I’m Mr. Perfect now? That’s rich coming from someone who thinks they know everything, Satoru.”

“At least I don’t try to control every little thing” Satoru shot back, his words muffled by the mouthful of donut. ”Not everything has to be done your way, Suguru.”

“Maybe if you used your head a bit more, we wouldn’t end up in half the messes we do,” Suguru retorted, his tone icy.

You sighed, feeling like a mediator between two stubborn children.

“Guys, seriously, what’s going on? This is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous is Suguru thinking he can tell me what to do.” Satoru snapped, his voice tinged with frustration.

Finally, you’d had enough. The frustration and tension had reached a breaking point. Without saying a word, you stood up, grabbed your lunch, and turned to leave. The soft thud of your bento box as you placed it into your bag seemed to echo in the silence that followed.

Satoru’s blue eyes widened as he noticed you standing. “Wait, where are you going?”

Suguru’s head snapped towards you, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. “What—?”

But you were already walking away, your footsteps brisk and determined.

“Great, just great! Now ya made her leave because you’re too scared to tell her the truth!”

Suguru’s face flushed with anger. “Me? You’re the one who turned this into a contest and made it impossible for me to even tell her how I feel!”

Satoru shot a glare at his best friend, his voice laced with bitter irritation.

“Well… I don’t care!”

A week. Seven long days without your best friends. They avoided each other entirely, which was pretty hard to do considering how small the school was.

The hallways almost fell deafening silent without the pair’s obnoxious laughter echoing through. According to Nanami it was “The best week of my life”. But for you, it was a slow descent into madness. The absence of your two best guys, who were always there to bug you and share in the chaos, was unbearable.

Hell, even Yaga was starting to get worried.

Shoko wasn’t much help. Completely jaded by the routine of arguments and breakups between the second years, she shrugged off the situation with a nonchalant wave of her hand. “They’ll make up… eventually.”

You were never one to just sit back and let situations play out. So you whipped out your phone to set your plan in motion.

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

(Y/N) (Y/N) Hey, movie tn? My place. Movie night 2nite? Sugu Toru Sounds great. I’ll bring the movie. Heading 2 the store! You sigh in relief. They WERE going to make up today, whether they liked it or not. Your phone buzzes again. Sugu Toru Hey… just us right? Me n you right (Y/N)? (Y/N) Yep! Just us!

✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✧✧ ▬▭▬ ▬▭▬ ✦✧✦ ▬▭▬✧ ▬▭▬

You prepared your dorm, fluffing out the pillows, grabbing your softest blankets. Hiding any sharp objects. The soft glow from the tv and your fairy lights set a cozy atmosphere. You only hoped that it would help soften the tension between them.

Knock Knock

Your ears perk up at the noise, you stood up, smoothing your clothes as if they could somehow help soothe the growing knot of anxiety in your stomach. As you opened the door you saw Suguru, leaned casually against the doorframe, his raven hair falling in soft waves around his face. His kind eyes tinged with nervousness.

“Hey Suguru!” Your voice warm as you greet him, stepping aside to let the taller boy in. He settled into his favorite spot, grabbing the blanket he’d left here one too many times. You settled next to him as he pulled out four DVDs showing you the selection.

“I haven’t seen any of these yet actually.” He says looking at you.

As you both discussed the movies, you heard another knock at the door. You quickly stood up, hoping Suguru wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.

“Hmm? Shoko Coming?”

“Not… exactly.” You laugh nervously as your hand slowly reaches for the doorknob. As the door inches open you see Satoru, his white hair slightly damp from his (never-ever missed 8pm Shower). He greets you with a smile, striding into dorm. Immediate irritation flashed across his face when he made eye contact with Suguru.

Their eyes narrow at each other, then at you.

“What’s HE doing here?”

You place your hands on your hips; side-eyeing Satoru to sit down. He begrudgingly takes a seat next to the raven-haired teen, pouting.

“We are watching a movie. And you’re both staying.” Your normally soft voice, firm as you glare at the two older teens.

They both shoot each other glares before sighing. You had won… for now. You took your place, right in between them.

You tried your hardest to just watch the movie, but it was so boring. Usually Suguru picked out pretty decent movies, but this documentary was NOT a decent movie. You stole glances at your friends; if you weren’t so pissed off at them you would’ve been blushing at the prospect of being sat between two attractive guys.

Their close proximity made your heart race. You could feel the heat radiating from their bodies, and every small movement seemed amplified in the quiet room. Your hand reached into the popcorn bucket. As the pair saw your hand go in they both reached in with you, hoping to touch you.

Both flinching as their hands brushed each other’s instead of yours. They shot each other a glare before turning their attention back to the TV. A minute passes before Satoru speaks.

“I could’ve picked a better movie with my eyes closed.” The white-haired teen mumbles, shoving popcorn into his mouth.

“Just watch the movie, Satoru.” Suguru replied with an exasperated groan, though his eyes never left the screen.

“This shit is gonna bore me to death.”

“That isn’t such a bad idea—”

You sigh heavily, grabbing the remote to pause the movie. You stand up, looking down at the two sorcerers.

“Alright. What the hell’s going on with you two?” You demanded

They both looked away, avoiding eye contact. Satoru crossed his arms, pouting even more, while Suguru ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated.

You tap your foot, glaring down expectantly.

Suguru glanced at Satoru, their eyes meeting in a brief, intense exchange. Satoru’s nod was almost imperceptible, but Suguru seemed to take it as a cue. He drew a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“(Y/N)...”

“We’ve been acting like this because, well..”

“We’re both...” Satoru continued.

“In love with you.” Suguru finished, his voice barely above a whisper.

You blinked, stunned by the confession. The room felt suffocating, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. You stared at them, trying to process their words. Your breath hitched, struggling to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. It felt like a storm was raging within the confines of the small room, each thunderous heartbeat echoing off the walls.

“You’re… what?” you finally managed to say, your voice trembling.

Satoru stood up, his piercing blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that left you breathless. “We’re in love with you, (Y/N). Both of us.”

Suguru’s nod was slow, almost hesitant.

“And it’s tearing us apart.”

taglist: @4evahevah @angelofdarkness2 @iangeeluv

@isishsoskdjsk @yunho-leeknow @starriesworlds @hiblue123158 @n3ptoonie

#jujutsu kaisen #kbwrites #jjk #jjk fanfic #geto suguru #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu #jjk x reader

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celandeline · 1 year ago

Text

in your head, on your mind // Jordan Li x Reader, Part 1

i know i haven't posted in like a year, and this is a huge shift from my usual writing, but i cannot express how jordan li has captured my heart and soul. this is definitely going to be a good number of parts, and will also definitely have some smut in there.

word count: 1912

previous part // next part

The Lamplighter School of Crimefighting is your home away from home on the GodU campus. Being Professor Caldwin’s TA is almost a full-time job, and in addition to classes and training and homework, most days you are in Caldwin’s office more than your own dorm room. Not that you mind, really. It’s the sort of job that will really set you up later in life - Caldwin knows everyone - and anything is better than listening to your roommate try and go viral on TikTok for the 30,000th time. And Caldwin’s a nice guy, in his own way.

“L/N.” The gruff call from his actual office resounds over the little foyer your desk sits in.

Scooting back from your seat, you get up and walk the few steps between your desk and the doorway, hovering at the frame. “Professor?”

Caldwin sits at his own desk - a big, antique wooden thing that’s probably older than anything else in this building - hunched over in front of a desktop computer that’s far too sleek looking for the desk it sits on. Frustration radiates out from him like rays of the sun. Stupid fucking computer… swear they make these things difficult for people my age on purpose… snippets of his thoughts play in your mind without prompting - your superpower passively picking up his most prominent feelings. Of course, if you wanted, you could really focus and read his mind fully (even talk to him telepathically), but that was a boundary you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t cross. He is your professor - and boss - after all.

Peering over the top of his glasses, Caldwin blinks at you, gathering a stack of papers to his left. “Bring these over to Brink, will you? If he’s busy you can just leave them with his TA, it’s nothing classified.”

You step into his Caldwin’s office fully, and take the stack of papers from him. It’s a hefty thing, so you tuck it under your arm. “Will do.”

“And while you’re out and about, get me another cup of coffee from the staff room. Two sugars-”

“Two sugars, two pumps of hazelnut, one splash of cream.” You say, already heading out the door. You’ve had his coffee order down since he hired you at the beginning of your sophomore year. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thank you.” Gonna take a hammer to this stupid fucking-

His thoughts cut off abruptly as you walk out of range, heading into the halls of the Crimefighting building. Students fill the space, coming and going from classes, sitting in the chairs near the floor to ceiling windows busy on their laptops, loitering around as they chat with their friends. You purposefully focus on your own goal - Brink’s office, and then the staff break room to make Caldwin another coffee - to force the cacophony of thoughts down. The audible chatter, in addition to the telepathic noise, would have been enough to make you scream a few years ago, but classes at GodU have lived up to your expectations - they’re hard, but worth it, to get your power under control.

Brink’s office is across the building from Caldwin’s, a more luxurious room with lots of natural light and a good view of the campus green. You’d only really ever been in there on Caldwin’s instructions - Brink had only been your professor once, your freshman year, and you’d been too scared of his reputation to actually go to his office hours. Still, it was easy to find, and when you tried the door, it was open.

The foyer of Brink’s office is much larger than the space in Caldwin’s and you find yourself a little jealous - it would be nice to sit at a desk here. You look first to the doors leading into his actual office, and find them closed. You turn to the figure sitting at the desk, and ask, “Is Brink busy right now? I have papers from Caldwin for him.”

The girl at the desk - pretty, with stark black hair that just reached her jaw and big brown doe eyes - just stares at you for a moment before responding. “Yeah, he’s on a call, actually.” Her voice is smooth, a little deep, and not what you expected at all.

“Oh, alright, I can just-” You start, only to be interrupted by a wave of lust.

Goddamn. Smash. The things I wouldn’t do to get between those legs… wow. Those legs. How have I not run into YOU before? I mean really, surely I would have noticed the hottest person alive on campus - especially here, in my goddamn department. Fuck.

Whatever you were expecting, it wasn’t that. You balk. “Um. Sorry. Yeah, it’s not anything classified so Caldwin said I could just leave it with you,” You untuck the stack from under your arm and pass it towards Brink’s TA. Her fingers brush over yours as she takes it, and for a split second, you can feel just how much you were affecting her - the wave of horniness hit you like a bus. The feeling lingers as you take your hand away, and you’re unable to tell if it’s leftover from her or your own reaction. Maybe a bit of both.

She sets the papers down on her desk beside her without looking, too busy smiling at you. “I’m Jordan, by the way.” She says. “I take it your Caldwin’s TA?”

“Yeah.” You say. “Y/N.”

Y/N. That’s a nice name. Very screamable.

You fight the urge to do anything but smile. Just looking at her, you would have never guessed such wanton thoughts would come from such a tiny girl, but never judge a book by its cover, right?

“Nice to meet you Jordan.” You continue, careful to keep your voice steady, even. Casual. Not like you can hear every piece of want cross her mind.

I bet you’d sound good screaming my name. I need to stop - I don’t even know you. I need to get laid, my god. Down tremendous and I JUST learned your name.

The image of you and Jordan together - tangled up in unfamiliar bedsheets, Jordan’s mouth latched onto your neck as you moaned in pleasure - crosses Jordan’s mind, and yours by extent. For, as she said, having just met you, it was a surprisingly good imaginary version of yourself. Though, she is looking right at you. It would be hard to get any details wrong when you were standing right there.

Would you let me? Maybe if I was in the other form-

Before you had time to wonder what that meant, she’s changing before your eyes, rearranging skin and bone until an entirely different person is sitting at the desk. A man - taller, broader, but just as pretty and with the same big brown eyes. Your surprise must have shown on your face, because Jordan laughs, a smile stretching across their face.

“Sorry.” They say, leaning forward to rest their elbows against the desk. “It’s just that I have two faces, so I didn’t want you to get confused if some random dude was waving at you cause I forgot you only met me as a girl.”

“That’s a pretty cool power.” You say, and then, with your mind, “And a pretty good reason to show it off. I mean, for something you came up with on the fly anyway.”

You watch their eyes widen as they realize that you’re in their head, and then their cheeks flush red as they remember what they were thinking about not moments before. “So you’ve just been hearing-?”

“Yeah.” You say..

“I am so sorry-” They start, shifting back into their female form.

“No, it’s okay.” You say, a laugh on the edge of your lips. “I promise it’s fine, I mean, you didn’t know I was listening in and it’s your thoughts you can’t like, help it. And it’s not the first time-”

I bet, looking like that. Fuck. Pretend I didn’t think that. I’m sorry. Jordan buries their head in their hands with a groan. “Sorry.”

You let out a full laugh at that. “It’s okay, I promise. Please don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s fine. It’s flattering, if anything. I mean, you’re pretty good looking yourself. Not that you’re only hot, I mean - I’m sure you’re nice too.” You pause. “That came out a little wrong.”

Jordan smiles. “It’s okay. I mean, you basically get a free pass to do whatever you want to be since I’ve been…” They trail off. In their mind, …objectifying you. I’d let you do whatever you wanted to me anyway, but… fuck. Sorry.

You smile again. “It’s okay. Promise.” You lean forward across the desk a little, getting closer without getting too close - you have just met after all. The smell of smokey cologne fills your nose, and causes more butterflies to swirl in your stomach. They really are hot. “You wanna know a secret?”

Jordan leans in too. “Sure.”

“Most guys, when they figure out that I can hear them lusting after me, aren't even apologetic.” You say. “So it’s sweet that you are. Charming, even.” It’s true - which is why you don’t usually bother playing into people’s lustful thoughts, but Jordan…

Okay. Okay, it’s not a big deal, it’s fine. “Would you want to hang out?” Jordan says, a little rushed, like they’d been waiting for an opportunity. “Sometime? We could train, or something…” Please say yes. You don’t have to say yes. I really want you to though.

You think about it for a moment. You don't usually say yes to these kinds of questions, especially after hearing the person's ulterior motives, but… Jordan seems nice, nice enough to genuinely feel bad about their thoughts once they realized you could hear them. And they are hot, objectively, in both forms.

“Yeah, I’d be down to hang out.” You say, reaching into the pocket of your jeans to pull out your phone. “Can I-?”

“Yes. Yeah.” Jordan pulls their own phone out clumsily, handing it to you.

You put your number in with a smile, and take the liberty to add a little emoji heart at the end of your name before you hand it back to them. “Should I text you, or are you going to text me?”

I don’t think I could stop myself if I tried. “I’ll text you.” Jordan says, glancing down at their phone. “A heart?”

“You don’t think so?”

No, no. No it’s great, I'm never going to change it. “A little fast, no?” They say.

You smile, and inject your voice into their head. Liar. I’ll see you later Jordan.

Before they can say anything else, you turn and leave, throwing one last glance at them over your shoulder. They don’t even try to pretend that they aren’t staring.

Butterflies swarm your stomach as you make your way back through the halls. You can’t remember the last time being in someone’s head made you like them more rather than less, but Jordan… sweet, apologetic Jordan. It’s exciting, in a way, knowing what they were thinking about you, and knowing that despite the fact that you know, they still want to hang out. You check your phone, even though it’s not even been a minute since you left. Sure enough, a text-

what are you doing tmrw from like 2-4

You type out your reply: hanging out w u probably

You almost forget to get Caldwin’s coffee on the way back.

#gen v #jordan li #jordan li x reader #gen v x reader #the boys #derek luh #london thor

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cottonlemonade · 8 months ago

Text

A Night In The Country

word count: 3626 || avg. reading time: 15 mins.

pairing: university AU!Sakusa x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff with a pinch of spice

warnings: mdni

request: medium custom peach lemonade for Sakusa!♡ Custom: You thought your crush was one-sided little did you know... || fluffy-spicy, getting stranded with seemingly one-sided crush Sakusa

Sakusa leaned back in his seat. His long legs elegantly crossed, he took a sip of his iced hazelnut americano, tapping and scrolling aimlessly on his phone, his mask tucked neatly under his chin.

The lecture hall was filling slowly and the chatter of the dozen or so students that already waited just like him was quietly buzzing in the air.

Sakusa didn’t pay much attention to any of it. He already scanned the room and saw that you hadn’t arrived yet.

But only a moment later, his shoulders tensed slightly when your voice wafted over to him, like the sweet smell of a craving he’d had. He didn’t turn around but he angled his phone a little to catch your reflection. You were laughing with a friend as you walked down the steps, trying to decide where to sit. He was lucky today. You shuffled through the benches behind him and settled a few seats away.

“So it’s not gonna be fixed in time?”, he heard your friend ask somberly.

“I mean, it could be probably, but I don’t have the money right now. New brakes are so expensive, I’ll have to at least pull two extra shifts at the store to afford them. I was looking into some buses but because we live so far out there is no direct route and I’d arrive at the station some time after midnight and then would have to wait until morning for another bus and yeah… I’ll make it work somehow, but it sucks.”

“And asking your parents to chip in for a taxi?”

“Nah, that defeats the whole purpose of a surprise.”, you replied with a sigh, “Plus I don’t think they have any signal at their cabin so they couldn’t even send it until they get back on the road home.”

“Maybe I could ask my brother to take you?”, the friend offered.

He listened to you ponder. The thought of you spending possibly a couple of hours with some other guy alone in a car was unacceptable.

“I can drive you.”, he heard himself saying.

“Hm?” Both girls looked at him when he turned in his seat, casually waving with his coffee, the ice cubes rattling softly as he did.

“I can drive you.”, he repeated, “I was planning to drive home tonight anyway (lie), so it wouldn’t be a problem to take you. You live close to Nakagawa, right? I have to head in that direction, too (lie), so it wouldn’t be too far out of my way (lie).”

“Uhm. Are you sure?“ You only ever talked to Sakusa for questions on notes or when you were too short to get a book down from a shelf at the library. You definitely weren‘t close enough that you would have felt comfortable asking him for a ride.

“Yeah, no problem. I have training tonight but it ends around 8 if that‘s not too late for you.“

“No! 8 is perfect! Thank you so much!“

You checked the clock on your phone for the third time in as many minutes. You looked around, grabbing the handle of your old travel bag with both hands and rolling back and forth on your feet.

It wasn‘t quite dark yet but the parking lot next to the gym was already illuminated by street lamps. The sky was a pretty blueish gray and the cicadas were busy telling the world that summer was not over yet.

You smoothed out your linen shorts and adjusted the tuck of your shirt. Deciding on an outfit appropriate for a road trip had taken way longer than it should have. Especially since Sakusa was only doing you a favor. It didn’t mean anything so there was no reason to overthink it.

Of course, it was unsurprising that you found him attractive. Half the class was crushing on the anti-social volleyball star and the other half was just slightly better at hiding it.

But when you spotted him in the group spilling from the opening gym doors a few minutes later, your heart stumbled despite your better judgment. Sakusa split from his teammates walking towards the bus stop and lengthened his stride when he saw you.

“Hey, did you wait long?”, he asked and led you towards a sleek black car that most likely cost more than your tuition. You shook your head No as he clicked a button on his car keys to open the trunk, neatly placing his gym bag inside and reaching out his hand to get yours as well.

Somehow, even though freshly laundered, your clothes looked dirty next to his. Aside from the questionable neon yellow and green of his old training jacket, flung onto the backseat, he looked like he was ready to go to a dinner party. His hair was still damp from the post-training shower (his teammates had shrieked in surprise when he joined them for the first time ever in “those germ-infested stalls“) and the car quickly filled with the refreshingly cool smell of his shower gel. It made you feel cozy and light-headed at the same time. It had you imagine for a split second, how Sakusa would take you for a ride after training to grab some late night ice cream and watch the city lights dance on the river while holding hands and talking in his car. The sudden rumbling of the engine pulled you out of your little daydream and you also may have forgotten to breathe when his hand came up to hold the back of your seat as he turned to reverse out of the parking lot. This was going to be a long drive.

Sakusa kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other was propped against his temple, his elbow resting on the door. The road was smooth and barely traveled once you got out of Tokyo traffic. Nakagawa was about two and a half hours south and according to his GPS your house was another 20 minutes further out. All throughout training he had tried to listen in on casual conversations his team members had with each other to get some kind of indication what smalltalk he could bring up but it was mostly concerning volleyball or workout routines or an extensive ranking of protein shake flavors - not much he could use with you.

“Cow.“, he said, pointing out the window to a ruminant-shaped blob that practically blended into the meadow with how dark it had gotten by now.

You followed his eyes and confirmed it was indeed a cow, then smiled politely and went back to selecting music on your phone.

Sakusa felt like an idiot. You lived in a rural town. Cows were nothing novel to you. So back to square one.

He tried a few different approaches.

“Are you reading anything currently?”

And thinking he wouldn’t exactly be interested in the fantasy romance series that was splashed all over your social media, you just shook your head.

Meanwhile, Sakusa didn’t want to readily admit that he had picked up the books after the fourth time you posted about them and even less that he genuinely enjoyed the story. He pursed his lips and just kept his eyes on the road.

“What does your family do?”, he’d ask a few minutes later.

“They’re apple farmers. They also make everything from cider to wine to applesauce.”

He nodded, trying to find an angle to keep you talking.

You on the other hand didn't want to “bore” him with anecdotes about what it was like growing up on a farm. So you fell silent once more.

Sakusa wondered if he was doing something wrong. Usually, when he snatched a seat near you in the lecture halls, you were very talkative and could easily hold a conversation - in most cases ending your stories on a completely different topic than where you started. It was one of your most ridiculously entertaining and endearing qualities that made him notice you in the first place. Who, after all, could ignore a girl that talked knowledgeably about autapomorphies of any given taxon and then wondered in her next breath if crocodiles had a concept of friendship.

“Do you… like food?”, he asked and resisted the urge to bonk his head on the steering wheel. He had meant to be a lot more specific but it worked!

You had frowned at him for a moment, then chuckled, then laughed and said, “Yes, I do enjoy food. How about you?”

“Half an hour to go.”, he informed you when he turned off onto a bumpy dirt road between two rice paddies. The past hour he had talked and laughed more than he had all semester and even though his voice was getting hoarse, he was disappointed that the drive was nearing its end. Sakusa winced when he hit a pothole in his attempt to miss another. The car shook. It really wasn’t meant for off-roading, but it soldiered on. Until it didn’t.

After a couple more hits from rocks and uneven terrain, the engine sputtered and then stopped.

“Huh.” Sakusa turned the key in the ignition once, twice but never got more than a - described generously - weak little stutter.

“I’m so sorry.”, you said earnestly, but at the same time tried to suppress a snort at his incredulous expression.

“It’ll be fine.” He plucked his phone from the holder on the console and began searching for car workshops nearby.

You waited patiently for the realization to hit.

“Oh.”

And there it was.

“Should have figured that there are no 24h auto shops in the countryside.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

You two looked at each other, then broke into laughter, still giddy from your pre-pothole conversations.

“Looks like we’re walking.”

With a flourish, you opened the door and got out.

“Walking?” He followed your example and met you at the trunk.

“Yup!” Your village-born “get to work” attitude sprung to life when you waited for him to push the button so you could retrieve your bag, “We’re only a few minutes out of Nakagawa. We can walk there and ask for help. And if all else fails, we can at least find a place to spend the night.”

Spend the night? Sakusa felt his heart stop and then pump hard to make up for lost time.

You shouldered your bag and grinned.

“Let’s go!”

Holding your phones aloft to illuminate the pitch dark a little, you hiked along the dirt road, always switching between checking your next steps and zeroing in on the few town lights that dappled the not too distant horizon. You picked up the conversation where you left off and learned about his high school years and the team he used to play with. You yourself were part of the archery club at university and had played a bit of softball in high school. Sakusa was asking question after question, feeling relaxed whenever you talked for a long time. He listened intently as you recounted key moments from your childhood and the one softball tournament you played in your first year, how you got hit in the face by a curveball once and then decided that maybe a different sport would be more suited for you.

“Oh, don’t you wanna call your folks?”, you asked suddenly, when the dirt road finally turned to asphalt and a large sign announced the entrance of Nakagawa.

In the dim cone of light from your phone you saw him frown.

“Why?”

“Cause you said you were headed my way today to go home. They must be worried sick by now.”

“Oh.”, he averted his eyes and felt his ears burn in embarrassment. “No, they’re not.”

“Hmm, I bet they are.”, you smiled, then obviously got an idea, “Oh! Maybe they can come pick you up! Where do they live?”

“Aoyama.”, he said it innocently and quickly as if ripping off a bandaid.

“Ao- wait, isn’t that in Shibuya?”

“Uh huh.” He walked past you, reaching the still surprisingly lively main road of town, feigning interest in a pub to his left.

“That’s the north of Tokyo.”, you noted.

“Yes.”, he agreed simply.

Your stomach flipped. Of course you didn’t want to assume anything but if his behavior tonight was any indication then…

He turned around, ripping you from your thoughts. “We should find a place to sleep first.”, he said, typing on his phone, “And then we can grab something to eat.”

“Right.”, you said, still wondering if the puzzle pieces in your head fit together or if you were just delusional.

“Seems like it’ll be difficult to find two single rooms on such short notice.”, he muttered, scrolling, then standing next to you so you could check the screen as well.

“These are all double beds.”, you so keenly observed.

“Right.”, he said slowly. Your proximity made his head swim. “Then we should probably look somewhere else.”

“Right.”, you agreed, clearing your throat.

“Or we could book two double bedrooms.”, he suggested, his calm tone not matching the excited panic rising his chest at all. Sakusa really hoped you would say No.

Being quite a bit taller allowed him the privilege to have you look up at him with your big (e/c) eyes.

“That seems reasonable…”

Were you disappointed? He searched your face for any hint. You were fairly open about your feelings, carrying your thoughts on the tip of your tongue and heart on your sleeve. It was another entrancing quality he felt himself drawn to.

He didn’t want to be the pervert who pushed for sleeping in one bed. You might end up thinking he tricked you somehow.

“But-“, you began, biting your lip for a moment before continuing, “maybe it’ll be okay to share for one night?”

“Right…”

“Just if it’s alright with you.”, you hastily added.

An image formed in his mind. He was sitting on a freshly made bed, when the door to the bathroom opened and you stepped out enveloped in a cloud of steam. A towel would be tightly wrapped around you, not quite big enough to cover your curves - a slid on the side teasing more of your plush thigh. You’d sit down next to him, applying lotion to your legs and he’d be mesmerized by the little water drops still clinging to your skin. In his head you’d ask if he could help you with the lotion because you were worried your towel would slip and he was nothing if not helpful.

Back in reality he tore himself away from staring at your reddening cheeks and his finger hovered over the booking button.

“Y/n-chan?!” A booming voice from up ahead made you two look up.

A woman with a graying perm stuffed under a bright green bandana came up to you with determined steps, a wide smile on her face and she embraced you without hesitation.

“In town for your mom’s birthday, I guess? You’ve certainly grown a lot. Must be all that good food in Tokyo. You look more like your parents every day. I remember when you were still that round-faced little thing stealing strawberries from my garden!”, she tsk’ed her tongue playfully, “Is your brother coming, too? Haven’t seen him in a while as well, but that’s to be expected when he is always so busy. But you should make time for family at least. - And who do we have here? My, my. I don’t know the last time you brought a boyfriend home but he is certainly a handsome one, isn’t he? What’s your name?”

You didn’t even know where to start, feeling like most of her questions were rhetorical. And although you definitely wanted to tell her that Sakusa was certainly not your boyfriend, you also knew that that would bring on a whole new wave of interrogations.

“Sakusa Kyoomi.”, he just said with a deep bow and an even deeper blush on his ears which the night and warm lights from the surrounding restaurants gratefully hid.

Maybe he also figured it would be easier to just play along, you thought.

Meanwhile, Sakusa was just happy someone put the idea in your head.

The woman was only about half his height and took her time taking in every inch of his appearance, no doubt making mental notes to tell all her friends about it first thing tomorrow.

Your situation was quickly explained and the friendly neighbor just waved it off.

“Don’t worry, dearies. I can take you home, no problem. The truck’s this way.” You exchanged a look with Sakusa who just kind of stood there, unsure of what to do. “Well, come on, you two. No one is getting any younger here.”

The beige banged up pickup was only a few hundred meters away. The back was stacked full of large baskets holding different vegetables.

“Don’t mind ol’ Momo, but I think you two have to squeeze in the back.”

“Ol’ Momo” was a giant white Akita snoozing on the passenger seat. He lifted his head when they opened the doors and only gave a deep tired woof as a greeting, his tail wagging lazily when the women scooted in next to him behind the wheel.

Sakusa tried his hardest not to touch anything. The backseat was covered in dust and sand and housed more big plastic colanders with precariously stacked daikons, still dirty from the field’s soil. If the car wasn’t his worst nightmare he would have greatly enjoyed having you so close to him. Your thigh was pressed against his and he had flashbacks to his little daydream excursion from earlier. He was still pretty disappointed that he was robbed of the opportunity, however miniscule his chance with you might have been in the first place.

Off the truck went. Of course more dirt roads meant more potholes but unlike his fancy city car the sturdy little pickup truck had no problems trundling along. Apparently in no need of an actual conversation partner, the neighbor just kept on talking, bringing you up to speed on how her fields were doing, what her sons were up to and gave an exact play by play of how her husband managed to strike a bargain on new seeds for the following year. You nodded politely or asked an occasional question to keep her attention away from Sakusa, while he watched you being thrown around like a ragdoll during more turbulent road maneuvers. He at least had the luxury to hang on for dear life on the grab handle above the car window. You, sitting in the middle of the backseat with a non-functioning seatbelt, either dealt with your bumpy fate or tried to steady yourself elsewhere. The truck’s cabin jumbled again and you jerked forward, barely holding onto the back of the driver’s seat. His arm shot out almost automatically to wrap around your waist, pulling you back to him.

“Thank you.”, you murmured so the woman wouldn’t hear, “I’m sorry, I know you hate touching people.”

“I don’t mind.”, he replied.

Your eyes grew to the size of dinner plates when he unhurriedly let you go and looked out the window into the pitch blackness of the country night. Sakusa had forgotten how dark it could get without the constant neon lights of the city. In the reflection of the window he still saw you staring for a moment, then turning your head back to the front, answering some question of the neighbor. He stretched his fingers, your softness now seemingly imprinted in his memory.

Another minute or so passed before you were thrown forward once again. This time, his arm remained around you. “If you don’t mind.”, he said under his breath, “Just until the road gets better.”

You nodded slowly and robotically looked to the front again.

It was difficult not to milk this opportunity. Having Sakusa holding you close like this sparked all kinds of ideas of snuggling up against his broad frame, drawing patterns on his thighs and asking dreamily if he also thought spring was the perfect season for a wedding.

Sakusa hid a smirk behind his hand when your head lulled against his shoulder as soon as the truck reached a smooth road. He adjusted his seat so you would be comfortable and didn’t stop grinning until the truck pulled up to a farmhouse.

“There we are.”, the neighbor announced and then hushed her voice when she saw you in the rear view mirror, “Oh, look at that. Well aren’t you just the cutest love birds. You wake her up, I’ll get her bag.”

He really didn’t want to lose your warmth despite the remaining summer heat. You felt so perfect in his arms like this.

“Y/n.”, he said softly, “Y/n, you’re home.”

Carefully brushing a strand of hair out of your face he poked your cheek with his finger. No reaction. He poked again. You mumbled something and cuddled closer. His body was about to explode from cuteness overload.

His door opened. “No luck?”, the woman asked.

He shook his head and began to think. Making sure to pull you along with him, he stepped out of the truck and slid his other arm underneath your knees.

“Oh you’re not picking her up, sweet boy. You’ll break your neck trying to lift this one.”, she warned but Sakusa already brought you close to his chest. He would ask his trainer to add extra sets for muscle gain in his workouts from now on, but at this moment he was just way too satisfied with himself to carry you across the courtyard up the few steps to the front door. The cool night air made you stir in his arms. “Sakusa?”

“Great timing. Do you have the keys?”

art: @KUM07474_V on Twitter

a/n: so uhm, yeah this one just kept on going xD thank you so much for your request and continued kindness @melimelisworld, I hope you enjoyed it 🌟

#sunnys lemonade stand #sakusa x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #sakusa kyoomi x reader #sakusa x you #sakusa x y/n #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #hq sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa

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