#i am trying not to hate her i guess. its hard.

[more-glitter-more-pizzazz]

Ooh girl.... shock me like an electric eel...

[1hyunjae]

[mermaid-admiration]

having a doll customizing moment when i have to be studying

[ragnars-tooth]

On fire world rn and I'm losing my shit over Eliza going "david, he killed a man fucking around with time rifts and abandoned us bc he felt kind of bad about it 🤨"

(^eliza, pictured)

[coldweatherhater]

i dont feel like dating like not at all lmao but i do wish i had someone i could just spend my entire day having conversations with ..

[happysparklingshadows]

𝙱𝚐3 𝙻𝚊𝚍𝚒𝚎𝚜 ✿ 𝚂𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚙 𝙶𝚊𝚖𝚎

Note: I love you all for your support for my Bg3 headcannons and I want to let everyone know my requests are open (also open for TLOU and Yellowjackets)!! Also, comment if you would like to be added to the bg3 taglist! I love you all!

Lae’zel

-She finds it ridiculous when the two of you stumble into a pleasure house.

-She hates outward displays of desperation for sex or yearning outside of the person you are trying to lay with. She was a steel face as your party looked around the rows of items. She is not interested in any of them.

-behind her back, you couldn’t get anything without a sharp look sent your way. There are more critical things to do instead of istiks desperate need for a flesh bond.

-You are scared to tell her you had bought a strap-on. It wasn’t anything crazy, but it was just something that had tickled the back of your head. So, you saved it for the right moment for you to introduce something new to your sex life with your overly serious githyanki lover.

-After a hard day of fighting, covered in sweat, blood, and dirt. She came to you. Her eyes are sharply intense as she looks over your form. She says, “I want to lick every inch of your skin of your scent. Tell me, do you tease me on purpose or just to make my hunger for you to grow?”

-You smile and play coy, knowing now that it does rile up Lae’zel, and say, “I am guessing I am not bathing tonight?”

-“No.” Lae’zel says as she holds her arms across her chest. She stares you down and doesn’t say anything else. She doesn’t have to.

-So, you slip away and grab your bag whenever everyone is asleep. When you reach her, she gives you a stern look of confusion and dislike at you doing something unexpected.

-You sit down beside the bag and pull it out. You explain to Lae’zel that it is just for sex and that it is only needed to have sex differently.

-“Am I not pleasurable enough for you, then?” She asks in a defensive tone of venom, and you just smile and look up to her from your spot.

-“No, the opposite. I wanted to know how it would feel if you had a penis.”

-“But I don’t.” ????

-You chuckle as you look up to her, “Have you never wondered what it would be like if you could be inside me? Like, claim me differently, my champion?”

-The comment of claiming clicked in her mind. She insisted she would be wearing it and using it on you.

-You help her put it on when she gets frustrated with the straps.

-Lae’zel doesn’t even let up for a moment after hearing the whimper out of your mouth when she entered you. It was like something primal clicked in her head. She was going to claim your body and soul.

-Lae’zel licks your neck and chest with a soft growl, her hips slapping into yours without mercy. She hums low, moans in her breath as she thrusts into you. Your hands tangled into her hair and small braids, your breasts push against her lips as your back aches.

-Lae’zel becomes obsessed with the sounds out of your mouth. She holds your head down as she looks over your face intensely when you cum. She nearly cums against the strap when your name comes out in a shuttered breath.

-Lae’zel fucks you with the strap that night until the night sky crawled its way out of the sky. She groans at the fact she has to stop fucking you. She smells herself and you all in the air.

-Lae’zel will steal the strap and keep it with her. She may or may not smell it when she wants to smell you when you aren’t near.

-Lae’zel will not be using the strap often, but she will use it when she wants to have a little more dominance over you. To show you that she was the source of every bruise and ache in your body.

-Her strap would be flesh-colored, or she would have never had it near her body. What do you mean that she can have a glittery purple strap???

-She is a Mean Dom who praises your good behavior. She is always razor-focused, always on top of everything in her life, and ready for battle at a moment's notice. She has no problem correcting you or making you understand the consequences of subordinates. Expect to have a few marks on your way out.

Karlach

-The second she enters the pleasure house with the party, she wanders off on her own. Searching, wondering, fantasizing. She doesn’t want to get too pent up, so she leaves a little earlier than you do, not noticing you seeing her eye the strap on with blush on her cheeks.

-A devilish thought came to mind, and you got the one she was eyeing. It was a larger one that made you blush at the thought of it being stuffed inside you.

-But, because Karlach and you can’t have sex until her next upgrade and a miracle, the strap is long forgotten in your crest.

-Once Karlach got her upgrade, IT. WAS. POUND. CITY!

-You and Karlach fucked in your tent, on the tent, by the campfire, by the campfire with your friends around you (very difficult to be quiet), in the river, in ruins, in the forest. There wasn’t a moment that went by that Karlach’s hands were not trying to touch you.

-One night, while eating dinner at the party, you remembered what you had bought a few weeks earlier. You stay quiet as a blush comes over your face at the memory.

-When everyone retired to their tents, you entered your shared tent to find her humming away to a love song and sharpening her axe.

-“Hey, soldier, I have been waiting for you all day.” She puts down her axe with a great smile to look at you. She notices the way you coyly stand. She leans back on the tent wall with a slight smirk growing, “What brings you around?”

-You melt to her face immediately and crawl closer to her with a devilish smile, “I missed you today. I wanted to give you something.” You say as you crawl in between Karlach’s legs. Inches away from their lips.

-“Oh yeah, baby, what’s that?” Karlach asks, clearly lusting after you again, and watches you intently.

-You run a finger up her stomach and to her heart. It burned like a cup of hot water, and you let your eyes worship the woman you love. “You remember when we went to that pleasure house?”

-Karlach’s breath hitches when she feels you touch her. She only says shakily, “Yeah?”

-“Well, I noticed what you were eyeing and bought it. I was wondering if you wanted to use it on me?” With your eyes meeting her, you asked her, and your hand planted itself on her strong shoulder.

-The same shoulder you hold on her for dear life as she fucks you standing up with the strap. She trusts you with the growls she uses in battle. She ferally fucks you as you cling onto her with yelping moans.

-Karlach looks down to see the black strap disappear into you like a magic trick. She had a big, goofy smile on her face.

-Karlach has you screaming, writhing, and desperate. You become lust drunk quickly, even have a moment where you just stare at her in reverence in the way she fucks you to bliss.

-Karlach didn’t know her strength most of the time with you and didn’t mean to manhandle you when she did. You never complained, though. You liked the feeling of her effortlessly lifting you up and down with her biceps under your thighs, or the way her hand completely covered your throat if she held you there, or when she grabbed your chin firmly to kiss you.

-“Gods, I fucking love you- I am never letting you go! Fuck baby, look at me like that.”

-Karlach cums the moment you start to shake when your climax approaches. She shivers and ruts the strap into you like she was trying to push cum out of it.

-You are a writhing mess for her as you are placed on the floor, your toes still curling even after they have left your body. It was a delicious feeling. You bite your lip as she stares down at you, still standing and panting. The strap still in the air.

-“Did I do alright?” She asked. She wiped the sweat from her brow.

-You look up at her towering form and massive fake cock staring you down and say, “Karlach, you are a fucking amazing. Please- Please, will you fuck me again?”

-And she did.

-That was the night Karlach discovered she was the STRAP GOD.

-Karlach would get a big black strap if she had any say in what she wanted. She wanted something that seemed to fit her body, which happened to be big.

Shadowheart

-Shadowheart blushes when she comes inside the pleasure house with you and sees all the items for sale.

-She looks on with wonder and excitement at items for pain that caused pleasure. Nipple clamps, bondage rope of satin and silk, or wands made for shocking a person with a command word. It was all interesting to her, although she kept calm as she walked beside you.

-You look at her, and she meets your eyes silently. Your eyes point to a strap-on and back at her. You secretly speak to her about your wants.

-Shadowheart blushes and looks back at you. You can tell she says yes back to you. She loved this new secret language you two have created to speak intimately in public.

-You sneakily buy the strap-on without Lae’zel or Astarian noticing, keeping this secret for her. Which she dramatically approves of.

-You two act as though nothing has happened, and it is an ordinary day, an average day of adventuring through your quest. Shadowheart watched your behind all day, wondering what taking you from the back would be like. It excited her and made her happy.

-The day ended with conversation and planning the next move, where you will go tomorrow, and who to kill. You finally come over to her tent.

-Shadowheart smiles and asks, “I have been waiting for you this evening. Do I have you to myself now?”

-You didn’t even say anything else before you kissed her lips. You softly push the two of you into your shared tent and want to use this now. The anticipation was killing you.

-The two of you make out on the sheets of the ground passionately, but you two fail to stop kissing each other when you move to open your bag.

-Shadowheart surprisingly wants to use it on you first as she takes it from your hands and puts it on herself. She looks down at you as she puts herself together, “I want to have you. First, I want to see your face twist for me,” she says as she slowly lowers to kiss you again.

-She flipped you around out of nowhere. As she grabbed onto your hips, she kissed the back of your neck. She rubs herself against you as she gently enters you from behind.

-She watched in fascination at the way your ass jiggled and bounced with her thrusts, she liked the way your thighs slapped against hers, and she could just watch it all. Watching your wetness spread on your cheeks and thighs as she fucks you passionately.

-When you have cummed on the fake cock, she kisses your neck and begs for you to do the same. She takes it off, helps you put it on yourself, and lays it down for you to be on top of her. You passionately kiss her and fuck her back as her soft moans filled the tent.

-You take turns with the strap; sometimes it’s her using it, or you are using it on her. It was a reoccurring character in your sheets, and it becomes beloved very quickly upon both of your first climaxes with it together.

-Shadowheart would get a purple glittery strap if she had any say in it because it was simply pretty and did its job while being pretty.

Minthara

-Minthara doesn’t react much to the pleasure house or the inside items. She glanced over the items with a carefree attitude that made your heart beat fast in your chest for some reason. She surprises you by asking the employee to let her see this item beyond the display case, and she, without shame, “(Y/n), come here.” She softly orders in front of your party. You blush softly as you do as she commands, and she asks to see the different sizes and colors.

-Minthara Baenre was raised to be a proud Matron of Menzoberranzan and has the qualities similar to nobility of Faerûn, She was bold with her sexuality and desires. She actuallly gets a kick out of embarrassing you in a manner like this, to her it was amusing how people without status acts towards sex.

-She asks you for the size you would like and smirks as she asks for one a size bigger. She picked a deep red strap with satin ropes and added it to her bag like it was nothing at all. You leave the interaction and shop with heat pooling in between your thighs.

-Minthara doesn’t waste time with her new item. She waits for that night. It doesn’t matter what happened or what needs to be discussed with the party members, and you need to gag on her cock.

-Minthara waits in your shared tent and has it proudly on herself, adjusting the straps as you walk in.

-she has you on your knees in obedience and has her hands running through your hair as she thrusts into your mouth to see how it looks.

-Minthara says, “Such a good lover, so obedient with those eyes looking at me, just like that.” As she bucks her hips into your open mouth.

-Minthara has you propped in her lap in a death grip on your hips, thrusting up into you with the strap. Minthara had her eyes fixated on your face, watching it twist in helpless pleasure to her manhandling.

-Minthara kisses and sucks on your breasts as she listens to you writhe. She wanted to be covered in you, wanted to be stained in you, forever scarred by your love and lust.

-Minthara is the queen of overstimulated and mocking pouts, “I know, Ust-nor, I know. You got a little more to give me. I want it.”

-Minthara has you cum on the strap a total of four times before she feels settled and ready to let you off her strap. But she would steal one more after seeing your spent face as you lazily lay on the pillows of your bedroll

-Minthara happily cuddles you after. She loves you intensely and lays her head on your chest. She pets your body tenderly as she whispers to you about how well you did, how powerful she feels after, and how the two of you will dominate the under dark hand in hand.

-There is no surprise that Minthara is a brutal mean dom without mercy. She likes to be in power and be actively

[bucketgetter535]

I don’t even like her

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

CW: Swearing/Subtle internalized homophobia

WC: 1021

Notes: basically Paige is an angsty sixteen year old who “hates” this girl who goes to her school and vents to her therapist about it. (Lowk ooc for Paige but this is self indulgent) anyway this could be the only fic I ever write cause I’m also using it for a creative writing project at school so… give feedback if you want more ig?

The carpet in the office was too clean. That was the first thing Paige noticed every time. Too clean and too soft, like she wasn’t allowed to stomp on it. Like it would judge her shoes for having walked through a parking lot. Her chair squeaked a little when she leaned back too hard, and the window always had that little hum from the traffic outside. It wasn’t annoying. It was just always there.

Dr. Reyes sat in the chair across from her, the same leather armchair every week, ankles crossed like she had all the time in the world. She had that therapist expression that wasn’t fake, but wasn’t… not practiced, either. It was the kind of face Paige found herself trying to match sometimes. Even now. Even when she didn’t want to be here.

“So,” she started, not even looking at her notebook, “how’s this week been? Any change from what you were feeling before?”

Paige shrugged. Her hood was up. Her sleeves were pulled over her hands. “Fine.”

“You seem tired.”

“I guess.”

Dr. Reyes gave her a minute. She always gave her a minute.

And Paige hated that it worked.

“I’m just—” Paige exhaled, tugged at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. “I don’t know. People are annoying.”

“People, like… your teammates?”

“No. I mean yeah, but not really.” Another beat. “Just this one person.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t say anything.

“She’s just—God.” Paige sat up straighter, suddenly full of words. “She’s not even that great. Okay? Like people act like she is. People think she’s like this goddess or something. And she’s not. She’s just a girl. She’s literally just a girl. A normal girl. She’s not even that funny. She just—laughs at dumb stuff. Like it’s charming or whatever.”

Dr. Reyes stayed still. Just listening.

“And she’s not as good as everyone says she is. Like okay, yeah, she’s good, but she’s not better than me. I’m better. I am.”

“You’re talking about—?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying her name.”

Dr. Reyes smiled just slightly. “Okay.”

“She walks around like she owns everything. Like she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. It’s annoying. It’s so—manipulative. Like, don’t act all humble and act like you don’t know what you’re doing when you wear those stupid crop tops or laugh like that or—” Paige stopped, red in the face now. “Whatever.”

There was a silence. The kind that only existed when someone had just told a really big truth disguised as a rant.

“You sound like you think about her a lot,” Dr. Reyes said softly.

“I have to. She’s always there. Practice. School. Online. My friends won’t shut up about her. Even my dad likes her.”

“And you don’t?”

“No!” Paige’s voice cracked on it. “I mean—God, no. I hate her.”

Dr. Reyes raised an eyebrow gently. “You hate her?”

“Yes. I hate her dumb face and her dumb smile and the way she always smells like coconut conditioner and how she somehow makes basketball graceful. Like it’s supposed to be messy. It’s supposed to be violent, and she makes it look like a ballet or some shit and it’s infuriating.”

Paige was breathing faster now, curled slightly forward, like the truth was physically pushing its way out of her.

“And I hate how she looks at me like she knows me. Like she sees through all my shit. I hate how she’s nice to people. I hate how she’s mean when she’s mad. I hate how I know her favorite color is pink and she loves chocolate and eats some kind of treat every night because she’s got the worst sweet tooth. I hate how she texts with perfect punctuation. I hate that she doesn’t get pimples. I hate that she calls me ‘P’ like she’s allowed to.”

Dr. Reyes tilted her head just slightly. “She calls you that?”

Paige blinked hard. Her voice dropped. “Only sometimes.”

The room felt smaller now. Warmer. Or maybe that was just her.

Dr. Reyes was quiet, letting it stretch. Letting Paige decide where to go next.

“I—” Paige’s voice cracked again. “I think about her too much. And I hate that.”

“What do you think about?”

“She’s just always there. In my head. Like I’ll be in math or on the bus or listening to music or brushing my teeth and she just shows up. And it’s not even like I want her there. She just is.”

“And when she’s there?”

Paige swallowed. Her voice went small. “Sometimes I’m mad. Sometimes I just want her to look at me. Like, actually look at me. Not like a teammate. Not like a friend. Like… like I’m special. Like I’m more than just good at basketball.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t move. Her stillness was the safest thing in the world.

“And that makes me mad, too,” Paige whispered. “Because I shouldn’t want that from her. She’s her.”

“What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“Because it’s her.” Paige’s eyes were glassy now. “And if it’s her then—then maybe I’m not who I thought I was.”

Dr. Reyes’ voice was gentle. “Who do you think you are?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

The room went still again. Paige wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“I hate her,” she said again, softer now. “I hate that I know she’s everything I want to be. I hate that she makes me feel safe and out of control at the same time. I hate that I see her name and my stomach flips. That I hear her voice and everything feels quieter. I hate that her hands are so gentle when she rebounds and that she lets me win arguments because she knows I need to. I hate that she smells like home. And I hate that Azzi Fudd might be the only person I’ve ever—”

She stopped. Bit her lip. Looked away.

Dr. Reyes let her.

When Paige looked back, her face was blotchy, and her voice was nothing more than a thread of air.

“I don’t even like her,” she whispered.

And for the first time, Dr. Reyes wrote something down. Just one word.

Love

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 12

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary: Y/n has always clashed with Matt. Despite working for Chris’s clothing brand and being close with Nick, her relationship with Matt has always been tense at best. While being forced to be around each other more, their animosity turns into something deeper. Can they overcome their differences, or will their fiery emotions tear them apart?

Warnings: angst, tension, arguments, mentions of alcohol, being intoxicated

I sat cross legged at the small vanity in my room, blending out the last bit of highlighter on my cheekbones. My outfit I had planned to wear was already laid out on the bed behind me, ready for the evening ahead. My hair was half done, still tied back loosely as I finished off my makeup. It felt nice to have a little time to myself to unwind and prepare, especially after the long day of travelling.

I was in the middle of putting eyeliner in my waterline when I heard a knock at the door. "Come in" I called out, not looking away from the mirror as I focused on not poking my eye.

The door creaked open, and I glanced at the reflection to see Matt stepping in, a glass in his hand. "Vodka lemonade" he said, his voice still carrying the unmistakable slur of someone who had had a little too much to drink.

I turned fully to face him, raising an eyebrow. "You remembered what I drink?"

He shrugged, his grin lopsided but genuine. "Of course. Hard to forget when its the only thing you drink"

I rolled my eyes, taking the glass from him. "Thanks, I guess" I said, swirling the liquid before taking a sip. The moment it hit my tongue, I winced, coughing slightly. "Oh my god Matt! All I can taste is vodka!"

He laughed, leaning against the doorframe like it was holding him upright. "Yeah well, you’ve got some catching up to do. Consider it motivation."

I shook my head, setting the glass down on the vanity. "It’s almost like you’re trying to kill me" I teased, but there wasn’t any bite to my words.

He gave me a wink, nearly stumbling in the process, and we both laughed. For a moment, it was like we never hated each other. It was weird. Today, we’d actually been nice to each other. From the plane to downstairs to now, it was almost like we’d turned a corner. Or maybe the alcohol had simply dulled his usual sarcasm.

Matt straightened up and glanced around my room, his eyes landing on the green crochet outfit on the bed. "That what you’re wearing tonight?" he asked, nodding toward it.

"Yep" I said, turning back to the mirror to finish my eye makeup. "I’m just hoping it comes to get the way I have it in my head."

"Bet it’ll look good" he said, his tone softer than I expected. When I glanced back at him, he was already heading out the door. "Hurry up though. Dinner waits for no one, especially when you’re as drunk as I am."

"I’ll be down soon" I replied, watching as he gave me a lazy wave and disappeared into the hallway. After Matt left my room, I set the vodka lemonade on the dresser, deciding to pace myself as I continued getting ready. As I stood back to admire the final look, I adjusted my halterneck top, making sure everything sat just right. 

I slipped on my nude heels, grabbed a small clutch, and downed half of the vodka lemonade Matt had brought up. The burn of vodka was strong, but he wasn’t wrong, I did have catching up to do if I wanted to match their buzz. By the time I walked down to the foyer, everyone was gathered there.

“You took long enough” Nick teased with a grin as I joined them.

“Beauty takes time, Nicholas” I shot back, earning a laugh from the group.

We stepped out of the villa together, the warm evening breeze carrying the faint scent of sea salt. The walk to the restaurant wasn’t far, but navigating the uneven path in heels was proving to be a challenge. After a few steps, I stumbled slightly on a dip in the road.

“You alright?” Matt asked, catching up to me.

“Yeah, these heels and this road aren’t exactly the best of friends, a bit like us” I muttered, half laughing at myself.

Without saying a word, he offered his arm. I hesitated for a moment before looping my hand through it.

“Don’t make it weird” he said, smirking down at me.

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it” I replied with a sarcastic smile, though I appreciated the gesture.

We arrived at the restaurant, a cozy spot with string lights draped across the patio. As we approached our reserved table, I heard Nick let out a quiet yell.

“What are you guys doing here?!” he exclaimed, his voice a mix of shock and excitement.

I looked up to see a couple seated at our table, their parents. Their mom stood up with a wide smile, pulling Nick into a hug.

“We’ve been in Hawaii for the last few days” she said warmly. “We wanted to surprise you!”

Their dad chimed in, “But don’t worry, we’re staying on the opposite side of the island. We’re not here to crash your whole trip.”

Nick let out a laugh, still processing the surprise. Chris and Matt looked equally stunned but pleased to see them. 

The waiter approached to seat us, and we quickly rearranged our tables, one table with four seats and one table with three. I glanced at Matt, who caught my eye with an amused look.

“This should be fun” he said.

“Let’s just hope they don’t figure out how drunk you three are” I whispered back, earning a small chuckle from him.

We settled into our seats, Nate sat across from me, Matt was next to him, and Chris was beside me, while Nick took one of the seats at the table with his parents.

Chris leaned forward toward his parents while pointing at me,  his tone casual yet proud as he introduced me to his parents. “This is Y/n” he said. “She works with me for Fresh Love. We’ve been working hard on the new drop, couldn’t do it without her!.”

I smiled politely, but before I could say anything, Nick chimed in from the other table, his grin as wide as ever. “And she’s also my best friend” he added, his playful tone leaving no room for debate.

Their mom smiled warmly, nodding in approval, but the moment didn’t last long. Nick dove into conversation with his parents, leaving the four of us at our table to converse with each other.

Nate glanced up at Matt and Chris, his lips curling into a smirk. “Actually, I never asked how’d Vegas treat you two? Looked like you guys were.. occupied” he said, his words almost like he was implying something.

Chris chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Occupied is one way to put it. Christina practically glued herself to Matt” he teased, earning a scoff from Matt.

Hearing another woman’s name left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had no reason to feel jealous, and yet, the idea of Matt being drooled over by someone else stirred something in me that I couldn’t quite place. It was irrational, and I knew it, so I kept my thoughts to myself, silently picking at the edge of my napkin.

Nick’s voice broke the conversation as he turned to Chris. “Hey, wanna head outside for some pictures real quick before we order?”

Chris nodded, standing up and following Nick without hesitation, leaving just me, Matt, and Nate at the table.

There was a brief moment of silence before their mom, who I assume was half listening to our earlier conversation, leaned over with a smile. “So Nate, do you have anyone special in your life right now?”

Nate chuckled, shaking his head. “No, not at all” he replied, his tone light.

Matt, of course, couldn’t resist. “Harsh one.” He snickered under his breath, looking directly at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him, confused by his comment. Before I could even ask what he meant, Matt took things further. He smirked and leaned back in his chair, his voice loud and clear. “Y/n and Nate went on a date last week, you know that?”

My heart sank, my face flushing red as all eyes seemed to land on me.

“What?” I stammered, but Nate jumped in before I could say anything more.

“It wasn’t like that at all” he said firmly, shaking his head. “We just grabbed dinner as friends.”

Matt wasn’t ready to let it go, though. “Oh, come on, Y/n” he teased, his voice making a mockery out of me. “Why so quiet? Feeling the sting of public rejection?”

My stomach twisted in humiliation. I could feel my face burning as I desperately avoided eye contact with anyone at the table. The old Matt was back just like that.

“Matt, stop being so rude” their mom interjected sharply, her tone firm. She turned back to her husband, trying to steer the conversation away from Matt’s antics.

“Yeah c’mon man we’re just friends” Nate tried to make it clear.

But Matt wasn’t done. His next words hit like a punch to the gut. “Oof, imagine just being a quick fuck and then friendzoned.”

The air left my lungs. The humiliation was overwhelming, and I could feel the sting of tears forming in my eyes. None of what he said was true, but the damage was done.

“I.. I’m actually not feeling the best right now.. I think it's the heat.. excuse me” I said quickly, my voice cracking as I stood up. I turned to their parents, forcing a polite smile through the lump in my throat. “But it was lovely to meet you.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked away from the table, the tears streaming down my face before I even reached the door.

As I pushed through the entrance, I nearly ran into Nick and Chris, who were heading back inside.

“Y/n?” Chris asked, his expression immediately shifting to concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel well” I mumbled, not stopping to explain. Before either of them could say another word, I kept walking, desperate to escape the restaurant, the humiliation, and, most of all, Matt.

I still felt the heat on my face, not from the warm Hawaiian night, but from the lingering embarrassment curling in my stomach. I really hoped his parents didn’t hear him say that. I was halfway down the quiet street when I heard the sound of running footsteps behind me.

“Y/n, wait!”

I clenched my jaw, picking up my pace, but Matt was faster, jogging until he caught up beside me. “Come on, don’t be like that” he said, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

I stopped abruptly, whipping around to face him. “Oh, really? Because bringing up that in front of your parents sure didn’t make me feel like the star of the evening.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual cocky demeanor fading. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just messing around, you know how I am-”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Yeah, I do. That’s the problem.” I turned back around, ready to keep walking, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” His voice was softer now, the arrogance stripped away. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.”

I folded my arms, giving him a glare. “And yet it did.”

He exhaled heavily, clearly frustrated, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to let him smooth this over with some half assed apology.

“Y/n” he tried again, “I just-”

“I don’t care, Matt.” My voice was cold, firm. “You always do this. Say something without thinking, then act like it’s not a big deal when it is. I don’t need an apology. I just need you to stop.”

He stared at me for a moment, as if trying to figure out a way to fix this, but I wasn’t interested in hearing it. So I stepped around him and walked away, leaving him standing in the middle of the dimly lit street, finally at a loss for words.

He didn’t follow me this time. Maybe he finally got the message, or maybe he knew pushing it any further would only make things worse. Either way, I didn’t care. My chest still burned from embarrassment, and my head was buzzing with frustration as I made my way back toward the villa.

I reached the villa, slamming the door behind me before kicking off my heels and making my way to the room. The relief of being alone and actually having a bedroom door for privacy was short lived because not even five minutes later, there was a knock.

I sighed, already knowing who it was. “Go away, Matt.”

“Just let me in for a second” he called through the door. “Please.”

I rolled my eyes, but something in his voice made me hesitate. It wasn’t his usual cocky tone. It sounded.. tired. Frustrated, even.

Against my better judgment, I walked to the door and swung it open. “You’ve got sixty seconds.”

Matt stepped inside, his jaw tight, hands shoved in his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them. “Look” he started, pausing for a second before meeting my eyes. “I was a dick. I know that.”

I folded my arms. “Great self awareness. Anything else?”

He let out a sharp breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know why I said it. Maybe I was trying to be funny, or maybe I was just being an idiot, probably both. But I didn’t mean it the way it came out.”

I scoffed. “You said I was a quick fuck that got friendzoned, Matt. How else was that supposed to come out?”

He winced, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“But you said it” I shot back, my voice rising. “In front of your parents, no less. Do you even think before you speak, or do you just say the first thing that pops into your head?”

“I-” He stopped, exhaling slowly. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t think you’d care so much.”

I blinked at him, stunned. “Care? Are you serious? You embarrassed me, Matt. You made me look like some desperate fool who got used and thrown away. Why wouldn’t I care?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering with something I couldn’t quite place, frustration, maybe, or something worse. I could tell he wanted to argue, to push back, but I wasn’t going to let him.

“You know what pisses me off the most?” I continued, folding my arms. “It’s not just what you said, it’s that you acted like you knew everything. Like you had some inside joke at my expense. And for what? A laugh?”

Matt exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “It wasn’t like that-”

“Then what was it like?” I challenged, my voice rising. “Because you made it sound like I was some easy target for Nate. And for the record, nothing ever even happened between us.”

Matt’s brows furrowed, his lips parting slightly in surprise. “What?”

“You heard me.” I snapped. “That night? Seven Minutes in Heaven? We didn’t even kiss. We sat there and talked, thought we’d mess with everyone's heads. And when we went out when you were in Vegas, and we made it clear we were just friends. There was nothing more to it.”

Matt blinked, like the idea had never even crossed his mind. “So you-”

“I never hooked up with Nate.” I interrupted, my tone sharp. “Not then. Not ever. So whatever picture you had in your head, whatever assumptions you made, they were wrong.”

He was quiet for a second, his hands still shoved in his pockets. “I didn’t know that.”

“No, you didn’t” I said bitterly. “Because you never asked. You just assumed.”

I could see it sinking in, the weight of his words finally hitting him, but I didn’t feel the satisfaction I thought I would. I just felt tired.

Matt let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was an asshole.”

“Yeah” I said, my voice flat. “You were.”

He glanced at me, like he wanted to say more, but I was done.

“I don’t have the energy for this” I muttered, stepping back toward the door. “I’m done, Matt. I don’t care how sorry you are. Just leave me alone. It’s best if we just stay out of each other's way for the rest of the trip.”

His jaw tensed, but this time, he didn’t fight it. He just nodded.

“Alright” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

I didn’t reply. I just closed the door, locking it this time.

a/n : everything is .. not changing?

taglist : @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel  @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @chrisstxrnsaxe @sophand4n4 @vickytaa @marrykisskilled @bxtchboy69 @yourfavsturniologirl @julisturn @sydneyylainn @sophia-77n @trevorsgodmother @sturnslutz @yourmother29 @girl24cherry @astronea @pinkdyit

[annebaby]

hello all! its summer break, so hopefully i will stay motivated to write. one of my friends helped me come up with this idea, so i hope you like!!

warnings: fingering (r receiving), kissing, biting, public sex

divider from here!

coffee shop 

college english - absolutely horrific. i’ve gotten a new essay assignment every week, each one being over a topic that was far too complex to make sense of. however, i had aced all of them. 

so this week, i was fully prepared to ace another essay. my brain had been working overtime trying to predict the upcoming topic. 

i travelled to the college’s local coffee shop, looking forward to my headphones, an iced matcha, and a few hours of pure focus. 

i entered the shop, finding a seat tucked in the back corner. i set my stuff down and went up to order, feeling my phone vibrate while i was waiting for my drink. 

it was an email from my professor with this weeks essay assignment. 

“how do you challenge yourself to let go of things stopping you from being independent?” 

what the fuck?

normally, this would be an easy topic. an easy answer to a simple question. but right now - it wasn’t. 

i had just gotten over a fresh breakup with my now-ex girlfriend, kate martin. it was hard enough seeing her as the poster athlete all over campus, being reminded of her looming residence in my heart. 

however, i recently had begun to work on myself and forgetting all the memories we had once shared. our breakup was civil, but the constant gossip of every recent hookup she had was like a dagger to the heart. 

i prayed this assignment wouldn’t bring up all those feelings again. it was hard enough to get to where i was now. countless nights of crying to my roommates, eating junk food, drinking, etc. had gotten me to where i was now. i was happy. 

that was until i saw my english assignment. 

“iced matcha latte!” the barista called out. 

i walked up to the counter, thanking her before sitting back down in my corner and opening my laptop. i put on my headphones, taking a deep breath before locking in and starting to write. 

i wrote for what seemed like hours. i wrote about how i had gotten over my recent breakup by working out, giving myself time, and hanging out with friends (minus the excessive drinking). it was hard not to think about her blonde hair sprawled across my pillows when she would stay over. it was hard not to think about the way she would kiss me after she won a game. it was hard not to - wait, no. 

i wasn’t doing this again. i couldn’t do this again. 

i took my headphones off and paused my music, taking a break from the writing. i looked up and noticed how crowded the coffee shop had actually gotten. people had been piling in, and now it was almost full. 

the line was at least 7 people long, each one talking to another person with them. i smiled to myself, feeling happiness radiating throughout the cafe. 

until i saw that blonde hair. it wasn’t cascading over my pillows though. it was falling onto the shoulder of the girl she had brought with her. kate martin and the new mystery girl of the week, who would’ve guessed?

i scowled at the sight of them, anger filling my veins to distract me from my jealous, sad feelings. i wanted that to be me. that SHOULD be me. 

fuck, why am i like this? 

i pop my headphones back on my head, resuming the music with the volume all the way up. i try to ignore her presence, acting like i simply never saw her at all. its easier that way. i don’t want to see her doting on another new girl. 

i regain my focus on my essay, but this time the words aren’t coming out as easily. instead, i was re-typing all my sentences. each word was filled with hate and anger, reflecting my feelings in this situation. 

frustrated, i look up across the shop, immediately catching kate already staring at me. 

god. 

i quickly look away, pausing my music and heading to the restroom. i shut the door behind me, looking at my reflection in the mirror. all i see is a women who is defeated. a woman who is tired, angry and upset. 

before i let the tears fall, i put my face in my hands. im squeezing my face, gently tugging on my own hair, and sighing out of anger. my leg starts subconsciously bouncing up and down, my anger starting to physically course through me.

the door opens. i turn my head to see the very person causing me to be this way. 

kate notices me completely disheveled, locking the door behind her. 

“hey, are you okay?” she asks. her hand reaches for my shoulder, but i stand back.

“im fine,” i say, trying to push my way past her back out to my laptop, my sanctuary. 

but, she won’t let me pass. instead, she picks me up and sets me onto the bathroom counter, standing between my legs. i look away, not being able to look her in the eyes with tears now generously streaming down my cheeks. 

“you’re not fine,” she says, cautiously wiping my tears. i swat her hand away.

“what makes you think you’re still allowed to touch me? talk to me like this?” i bawl.

i hop off the counter, now standing in front of her. 

“go back to this week’s fuck and leave me alone,” i head for the door, but i’m stopped as kate grabs my wrist and pulls me back around to face her, unbearably close. 

“please, just talk to me,” kate pleads. 

i squeeze my eyes shut, trying to ignore the pain flooding throughout my head. 

i look up at her, tears still falling down my face. 

“you’re such an assho-

i’m cut off by kate’s hands on either side of my face, pulling me in for a sweet, hungry kiss. my hands hover over her, surprise engulfing me as i struggled to comprehend what was happening. 

she pulled back, looking at me between my eyes. she was desperately trying to assess my reaction. 

a moment of boldness was all it took for me to lose all control, and there was no need for her to assess when my hands reached her waist and pulled her into me. i smashed my lips to hers, her hands gripping my ass. 

i groaned into her and she uses her opportunity to invade my mouth. taken aback, i stumble backwards until my ass is against the sink of the restroom.

“jump,” she whispers.

i suddenly realize how unfortunate this situation is - making out with my ex girlfriend in a coffee shop while she’s out with another girl. 

its almost as if kate sees the realization cross my face when she says, ”its fine, its fine," against my neck. her voice gives me chill bumps, flashbacks to our previous encounters flashing through my mind.

her fingers are toying with the waistband of my shorts, dipping in and out teasingly. i feel her lips moving and nipping at my neck, no doubt leaving marks for me to discover later - kate’s signature move.

i whined her name, practically begging for her to slip her fingers in me. she smirked against my skin. i hated being so needy, but kate loved to tease. i could not handle that right now.

“please kate, please,” i whispered. 

“what do you want?” she breathed.

her stupid pride. her stupid ego. had i really forgotten the way she’d make me beg for her? i laughed. 

“you don’t deserve to hear me beg.”

i grab her wrist and move her fingers to my center, immediately feeling her fingers tense at my wetness. 

i grab her shoulder with my free arm, my forehead digging into her neck. her fingers started tracing circles on my most sensitive spot, causing me to bite her shoulder to keep myself from moaning. in response, i feel two of her fingers dive into me, curling and straightening as she fucks me with them. i lift my head up to look at her face, her eyes looking downward between us the whole time. 

“fuck,” i whisper. i feel myself coming undone, seeing her that focused on the connection between us was sending me over the edge.

she smiles and meets my eyes quickly. 

“c’mon, you can do it,” she breathes. she leans forward and takes my bottom lip in between her lip, tugging on it. i felt the tightness in my stomach loosen. 

kate breathed out as if she had been holding a breath this entire time. she helped me finish out my high, before sticking her fingers in her mouth, licking them clean of me. 

she stands in front of me, unphased. meanwhile, i’m heaving, my legs shaking and cramping. i look at her, my face puffy from my previous crying.

and we just start laughing. i hop off the counter, standing on my tip toes to give her a quick kiss. this felt like old times, our feelings felt like they had never left.

“tell your whore that i’m back,” i whisper. 

her eyes widen in amusement, her hands finding a resting spot on my waist. 

“i’ll be at your place later so we can talk about… this.” i motion back and forth between us.

i leave her grasp and walk back out in the coffee shop, returning to my laptop. smiling to myself, i read the essay that i had so effortlessly typed out. i delete the entire thing before closing my laptop. 

i couldn’t write about being independent after my ex girlfriend had ruthlessly fucked me in the coffee shop bathroom. 

[wonjuii]

Hi, I do think exposing is childish but... I want to warn people. Ever since, like around 2024, august? I was invited to a groupchat, filled with people who posts on tumblr! some were ppl i didnt know about. And.. there is marie. I thought marie was a sweet person at first, didnt talk to her since i didnt know her that much. ever since the month grew, there's a chaos drama about dodo. (i am not bringing it up that much but it will be some information direct to that chaos)

it was around... october? I dont know but lets forget that! past 3 days, marie was being too dramatic, calling me and @awwriri sensitive. (just to tell you that, I can reclaim the slurs since i took an irl test but idk if its a thing since the doctor said "it was to check if i have autism" but it was positive i guess!) It was during the lil-liaa chaos. I didnt want to say the r slur to her but i ended up saying it since there were alot of things happening. As you can tell, i asked permission to say the slur, I was worried if i am really meant to say the slur in the gc. (please anyone dont get uncomfortable!) all of the sudden, she called me insensitive..? I didn't know asking permission is considered impolite or insensitve.. we all had a small talk with marie. everything went a little okay (I assumed.) there are evidences of our small talk.

I apologised... many times. MANY TIMES. "don't be sorry" i will have to be sorry because you bashed on me and riri bc of the slur now the whole server bc of dodo?? U can't be that serious. I also mentioned that everyone deserve to be forgiven! guess marie cant accept that. I thought riri was the owner of the gc, of course i had to ask her permission but no. she wasnt the owner. i was dumb enough to not check who's really the admin of the gc. When we had a small conversation about slurs, she mentioned she cant reclaim the N WORD bc others used it?... Although she used it when she just said it TWICE. (ITS NOT A RACISM SLUR, SHES AFRICAN)

i was just trying to make a conversation, setting up a new type of topic since i got really annoyed and uncomfortable, talking about slurs. But, she continued, wouldnt even stop ending the conversation about it. I even try to convince her to bring riri back to the gc since we all wanted to see how she is.

.... okay. do u like.. hate riri or something? The fact she argued with riri, MAYBE ALMOST EVERY WEEK. MAYBE EVERY DAY. its just disgusting how shes treating the others like shes the oldest of the gc. (she tried to boss me, telling me not to say the slurs bc im insensitve) just so you know, vivi educated me more about slurs so i am not going to say it. (thank you vivi)

The text may not be necessary, but can't you tell how bad she is? if your assuming its bc her education system or shes young, i was 13, i rarely got into fights. (like twice a year.) most likely, she's to cause tons of fights. my screenshots:

(Please press to read, it might be hard for you to see!)

This is a dodo situation. you may not know why dodo didn't explain why she didn't say anything or mention her reason about ignoring to chei. here it is.

basically, she was moody (mood swings i think) I understood dodo, i have frustration issues so i get really annoyed like almost everyday. just to clarify, were not bashing on chei, this is just to show evidence about marie and things she said! more evidence when she started being rude to me... (i didnt clip that part but others may have seen it, she said something like "no, i dont want to ❤️" something like that)

shes basically thinking we dont care...

(im at the corner at the top, replying to her.) You can tell i apologised to her like many times. shes basically saying dodo doesnt deserve to defend herself because shes a bully..? do you realize what ur doing. its childish.

evidence from dodo about marie talking about dodo in her post!

i cant. this is just annoying me so bad. why is she only asking me to block her ??? im so confused. (AGAIN, please press these evidences to read!)

wow.. i just dont get whats her problem with dodo, me and riri atp?..

sigh. marie tsk tsk.. i just cant believe this. i assumed she was going to expose me but i guess not?.... also another information.. me and vini were just trying to calm her down but she started bashing on her too.

Thank you to anyone to might be reading this. Again, exposing seems childish but its the best way to do it. its for others to be warned, incase! tags : @y-unrei @n-americano @i-mmaculatus @sugarish

@miujo @i-kyujin @aestradairio @awwriri @atsubie

@aeraras @rkivefr @daddldee @p-oisn @kissunoo

@florescita @fairytopea @purinkiss @hourlyhoon

@lvioung @obdosant @tzulipss @j-eongs @yeritos

@yonkiibums @hcvenue @bitchey @babyvoxgirlie

@swhore @bloomqi @kiyeuo @chaeryeos @y-vna

@y-urios @aestradairio @aesverse

god all of that tags is MAD!!!

[ifwdominicfike]

you try to get guitarist!matt to listen to one taylor swift song since he apparently “hates” her music

── .✦. ──

“matt im telling you, one song wouldn’t hurt you. or are you just too scared you’ll like it?” you felt the chillest breeze outside and decided to play folklore on repeat because who wouldn’t? anyway, matt was fed up with hearing about “some girl complaining about her failed relationships” but you couldn’t care less.

“sweetheart, it’s literally just the same song but about a different guy. she’s too overplayed i don’t get how you like that shit” he scoffs, making his way around the couch. “everyone says that though, you’ve only heard her pop songs that why — her other songs are masterpieces. all of her lyrics are basically me.” you sarcastically say — but not really.

as he sits down on the cushion you scoot your way over to him, laying your head on his shoulder. “pleaseee just one song? i promise you’ll like it, well hopefully i dont know.” you ask with a smile, he lets out a sigh and finally agrees. “yeah sure come on, show me this song then sweetheart.”

you now have the biggest smile on your face and get up from your comfortable position, and turn to make your way to your shared room to grab headphones “wait here” you excitedly say, as if he would vanish the second you were gone.

when you came back with the black bulky headphones he was already looking your way, smiling at your excited state. “this better be good if you’re this happy about this, if i don’t like the song and its some girly girl pop shit, m’clowning your ass for it.” he jokes when putting on the headphones and adjusting them, you were a little nervous — it was obviously something he would never in a million years listen to on his own but he always shows you his music so whats the worst that can happen ?

you figured why not something from your favorite album of hers, folklore. you were going through the tracklist trying to figure out which song until you were pulled out of your thoughts by matt groaning. “come on sweetheart, m’falling asleep over here” he fakes yawns and rubs at his eyes. “shush i have the song ready, now listen its my favorite!”

you click on the song and look up at him to watch his reaction, you obviously can’t hear the music but you already know how it goes “i’ve been having a hard time adjusting, i had the shiniest wheels now they’re rusting.”

as the song continues to play you can see matt swaying a little, you smile when you notice the amusement on his face. the bridge of the song starts up and he stops all movement, listening carefully as the lyrics spew into his ears. he looks over at you in disbelief, jaw dropped as the song now fades out and he’s slipping off the headphones.

“sweetheart thats you’re favorite song?” he says sniffling “well y-yeah? why is it bad?” you ask confused “no, not at all- s’just really fucking sad” he said chuckles before pulling you into a hug “if y’think thats sad then i need to show you more”

“her music s’not that bad i guess..” he says sarcastically “matt please- you were damn near crying i don’t wanna hear it.”

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i love folklore. i AM folklore. anywayyy new blurb!!! im so happyyyy i finally finished ONE of my drafts 😭😭

wait omg i forgot to tag you @bluestriips ik you like guitarist!matt !!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @sturniolosiphone @chrislova @sophand4n4 @mattsfavoritestar @mattslolita @y3sterdaysproblem @strnilolover @cayleeuhithinknott

[onlyangel4]

onlyangel4 1k event - P1. FA14. SMAU.

trope: grumpy x sunshine

pairing: grumpy fernando alonso x sunshine lawson!reader

author's note: reader is liam's older sister, she and fernando met in 2023 after liam drove for daniel while he was injured and started dating but the public have not seen them together, until now

faceclaim dianna agron

1k event

liamlawson posted a story tagging y/nlawson

written: look who flew in the us ready for my first race

y/nlawson posted a story

written: i was on my morning walk and i found a dog, naturally we are best friends now, his name is edgar and i would die for him

fernandoalo_oficial replied to this story: before you ask, no we can not have a dog

y/nlawson: but look at edgar babe he is so cute

fernandoalo_oficial: it is so difficult for me to say no to you my love

f1wags

liked by user1, user2, user3 and 134,283 others

f1wags: heads have been turned in COTA. fernando alonso did not arrive alone, he was joined by y/n lawson, liam lawson's older sister. the pair walked through the paddock holding hands before both going into the aston martin garage. they have been pictured together a couple times but nothing was ever announced, is this the ultimate hard launch?

view all 8,283 comments

user1: i would have never imagined them together, y/n is the happiest person ever and fernando is just fernando

user2: they are an unexpected couple but fucking hell they are hot

user3: i wonder what liam thinks about this

y/nlawson posted a story

written: i guess the cat is out of the bag

f1updates

liked by user4, user5, user6 and 192,384 others

f1updates: that sprint race was eventful for these potential brother's in law, sharing some heated words after the race. it seems that y/n has her work cut out trying to calm these two down.

view all 12,321 comments

user4: the camera cutting to y/n with her head in her hands was peak cinematography

user5: fernando is going to get a stern talking to after talking to her little brother like that

user6: poor y/n surrounded by angry men

f1fan posted a story

written: guys i just met y/n and she is still so smiley she just said "i love them both, they are big boys they can work this out between themselves" i love her so much

f1gossip posted a story

written: max and fernando laughing about the liam lawson situation, "i was forced to apologise because otherwise i would have been sleeping on the couch"

y/nlawson posted a story

written: so in love with you (even if you did almost punch my brother)

y/nlawson

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, liamlawson, lewishamilton and 827,212 others

tagged: fernandoalo_oficial. liamlawson.

y/nlawson: this is their punishment for this weekend

view all 23,585 comments

liamlawson: i hate you

y/nlawson: what's that? you want me to post your baby pictures, are you sure

liamlawson: NOOO

fernandoalo_oficial: he started it...

y/nlawson: nando

fernandoalo_oficial: sorry mi amor

user7: y/n has that man wrapped around her little finger

user8: best wag ever

user9: i am so in love with y/n lawson

fernandoalo_oficial posted a story tagging y/nlawson

written: i'm still her favourite

∘•···············•∘ʚ ♡ ɞ∘•················•∘

@bibissparkles

@milkysoop

@hadids-world

@callsignwidow

@barcelonaloverf1life

@queen-of-the-hunt

@piastrams

@kravitzwhore

@a-beaverhausen

@fangirlforever2000

@formulaal

@azeal-peal

@magical-spit

@that-one-little-soybean

@raizelchrysanderoctavius

@zatarias-pandora

@unknownmystery22

@anotheranotherblogwoah

@leclercdream

@charlesgirl16

@kikiki04

@dullypully

@awritingtree

@stylesmoonlight12

@pippyth3hippy

@hc-dutch

@whosra

@lancestrollsgf

@dying-inside-but-its-classy

@vulkaari

@random-human02

@daisyfreecs

@fandommaniac07

@mbioooo0000

@novelswithariana

@exotic-iris13

@natashaalinovaromanoff1984

@colmathgames2

@ajordan2020

@sltwins

@nichmeddar

[crushpunky]

toxic!reader and rafe vs the pogues

masterlist

your fave psycho girl is back :) warning: brief nudity, swearing, + vaping

Y/n laid on one of the Cameron family’s lounges, the sun warm against her skin as she basked in its golden rays. She’d opted to ditch her swim top, hoping to even out her complexion since it was just her and Rafe. She’d been nagging at Rafe for weeks, trying to get him to invite her over to hang out by the pool and he had finally caved.

Sprawled out on a lounge next to her, Rafe’s swim shorts rode up to show the golden tan of his legs as he scrolled through his phone. Y/n found her eyes lingering on his sweat glistened body, biting her lip subconsciously with each and every shift of his muscles.

“Pool. Fuckin’. Day.” A voice shouted from the patio, causing Rafe and y/n’s heads to whip around to see the Pogue’s making their way out to the pool deck. With a slight yelp, y/n quickly turned back and scrambled for her towel, holding it against her bare chest as JJ shucked his t-shirt off before jumping into the pool with a holler. A shower of water coated the pool deck, splattering y/n and Rafe.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Rafe said, his teeth gritted as he slammed his phone down on the lounger. Y/n grabbed his discarded t-shirt, quickly throwing it on as Rafe crossed the pool deck to stop in front of his sister.

“What am I doing here? I live here, asshole.” Sarah snapped, spreading her towel out on the concrete. Y/n scoffed before she was even able to stop herself. At the sound, Sarah’s eyes immediately darted to her before narrowing.

“Oh of course she’s here.” Sarah sneered, crossing her arms over her chest. Y/n rolled her eyes before flipping Sarah off.

“Hey,” Rafe said, snapping his fingers to get Sarah’s attention back on him, “you and your dirty fuckin Pogue friends need to get out of here. I’ve got the pool for the day and I’m going to decide who can and can’t be here, a’ight?”

“Who put you in charge?” Sarah scoffed. “Dad leaves for one fuckin’ day and all of a sudden you think you’re in charge of—”

“I am in fuckin’ charge—” Rafe snapped back, taking a step closer to his sister.

“Hey, dude, you need to back off.” John B said, placing a hand on Rafe’s shoulder.

“Jesus Christ!” Y/n snapped, finally getting up from her lounger and stepping between John B and Rafe as they started shoving at each other. “Cut it out! I wanted one day— one fucking day— to relax and tan and get drunk and you have to interrupt it. I mean seriously, Sarah, you knew we were gonna be here—”

“I did not!” Sarah scoffed.

“You did, don’t act like you’re the victim here.” Y/n sneered, rolling her eyes. She looked past Sarah at Kiara and JJ, floating in the pool alongside Pope and Cleo who watched the siblings arguing with wide eyes. God she hated the Pogues, I mean hated, but she also knew neither of the Cameron siblings were gonna back down from this without a fight and, honestly, she didn’t want to have to deal with that on her day of relaxation.

“But,” y/n pressed a hand to her temple, not even believing the words she was about to say, “I guess we can share.”

“What?!” Rafe scoffed, his voice sharp as John B and Sarah looked at y/n with surprised looks on their faces.

“I’m honestly too tired at this point to give a fuck, Rafe.” Y/n sighed, adjusting her sunglasses. “As long as you’re quiet— and I mean silent— it’s fine.”

“Ok that seems… perfectly reasonable, right Sarah?” John B said, nodding as he looked over at Sarah, who continued to shoot daggers at y/n. “Right, Sarah?”

“Yes. Fine.” Sarah spat. “I’ll be quiet in my pool at my house with my friends so you, who don't even live here by the way, can have a nice day of relaxation, princess.”

“Perfect.” Y/n smiled sweetly. “That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

Sarah rolled her eyes once more before turning on her heels to lay down on her beach towel. Rafe ran a hand down his face with a groan before turning to y/n.

“Seriously?” Rafe seethed. “You’re just gonna let them interrupt our day?”

“I’m past the point of giving a fuck, so yes, I am going to let them ‘interrupt’ our day.” Y/n sighed before making her way back to her lounger. She dug through her beach bag, pulling out her vape before settling back into her seat.

“Never thought I’d see the day where you went soft.” Rafe muttered as he sat next to her, a scowl on his face as he watched the Pogues splash around in the water. Y/n chuckled slightly before hitting her vape, inhaling and exhaling deeply as she sank into her previous, comfortable position. She allowed her eyes to close, rolling out her neck and allowing herself to relax.

“Are you gonna take your top off again, y/n?” JJ chirped from the pool, sending y/n’s eyes open. Pope delivered a smack to the back of JJ’s head. Rafe was already scrambling to his feet, swearing as y/n quickly grabbed onto his arm. She dug her fingernails into the skin of his bicep, able to stop him just enough to prevent him from diving into the water. Without a second of hesitation, y/n shucked her top off before jumping into the water… directly on top of JJ.

He let out a yelp as she collided with his body, sending the rest of the pool into a panic as she grappled with JJ. The two of them pushed at each other, attempting to grab at the other and remain above the water. Y/n slapped at his skin, JJ trying to shield himself from the harsh scrapes of her nails as he struggled not to drown in the water, keeping his hands up. Rafe jumped into the water, swimming over to the two of them.

“Get the fuck off of me!” JJ shouted, delivering a shove that allowed him enough space to escape y/n’s flailing arms. “You’re fucking crazy!”

“I’ll show you fuckin’ crazy you Pogue bitch!” Y/n went to jump at JJ again, but Rafe was able to grab her waist just in time, hauling her back towards the edge of the pool. He spun her around, turning her bare chest to face him and holding her firmly against his body.

“Jesus Christ!” Sarah spat, her and John B helping a heaving JJ out of the pool. “Fine, we’ll fucking leave you psychos.”

The rest of the Pogues clamored out of the pool, grabbing their bags and towels. As JJ got to his feet, y/n noticed the fresh scratches adorning his arms and chest.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Rafe seethed, looking down at y/n as she looked up at him with a wicked grin. The Pogues rushed out of the backyard of Tanneyhill, their complaints falling on deaf ears as y/n pulled herself out of the pool.

“Well, we’ve got to the pool to ourselves now, do we not?” Y/n giggled before walking back to her lounger with a smirk.

[callikari]

TWEETS TO RiKi — nishimura riki

7. am i COOKED!!!

you were sitting in the living room, your phone in your hand as you scrolled absentmindedly through social media. the conversation with your friends earlier weighed heavily on your mind. it was the first time you had openly admitted to them that you were falling for riki, and the more you thought about it, the more the words haunted you. how long had you been in denial? how long had you pushed down the feelings because you were too scared of messing things up?

it all felt so complicated, especially now that riki was flirting with leeseo. and the fact that he still thought decelis anon was her? that made it worse. you sighed, tapping away on your phone again, your fingers hovering over the screen. but you didn’t send it. you just stared, trying to calm your nerves.

you were distracted, though, not realizing that your phone was left open on the couch when you stood up to grab something from the kitchen. riki, quietly returning from the hallway after a meeting with the committee, wandered into the room. he stopped when he saw your phone screen—your confession to your friends was staring back at him.

idk if i like riki because it would be weird if i do since we were friends since FRESHMAN YEAR!!! and hes talking to leeseo when im talking to soobin AS FRIENDS ??? its soo wrong to see him in this way and its soo hard to even face him whenever im in the dorm with him

he stared at the message for a moment, blinking in disbelief. his mind was racing. she likes me?

there was no mistaking it now. his heart skipped a beat. and before he could second-guess himself, he looked up to find you coming back from the kitchen, completely unaware that he had just read your text.

“yn,” he called out, his voice soft but loaded with curiosity.

you froze, your heart sinking. “riki…?” you asked, feeling the tension rise in the air.

"is this true?” he asked, his voice gentle but firm as he walked closer to you. he pointed at your phone, his gaze focused on you now. “did you just say you like me?”

your stomach dropped, the words you never intended for him to see now hanging in the air like a weight. “riki, it’s not—”

“don’t lie,” he interrupted, taking a step closer. “just tell me the truth. i won’t be mad. i promise.”

you were torn between wanting to avoid this conversation and needing to let it all out. this is it.

you sighed, your gaze softening. you couldn’t lie anymore. “yes,” you said, barely above a whisper. “i like you, riki. i have for a while. and… i don’t know what to do about it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, but here we are.”

riki stood there, frozen for a beat, as if trying to process what you just said. his lips parted, but nothing came out. you shifted nervously under his gaze, unsure of what to expect.

the silence stretched between you two, suffocating.

finally, riki spoke, his voice low. “i… i don’t know what to say.” he scratched the back of his neck, looking down at the floor, still processing. “but you— you like me?”

“yes,” you whispered, feeling the words hit you harder than you expected.

riki looked at you again, and for a moment, it felt like everything was suspended. his brow furrowed slightly, and he let out a quiet breath. “this is… a lot.”

you looked at him, your heart racing. did he not feel the same way?

he hesitated, glancing away for a moment. “i don’t want to mess this up, yn,” he muttered. “but… i’m not sure where to go from here.”

you nodded, trying to make yourself as small as possible in that moment. “it’s fine,” you said quickly. “i understand.” you hated how vulnerable you felt, but this was what you needed to say, even if it didn’t end the way you hoped.

riki, however, shifted closer to you, a softer expression on his face. “i don’t want to make things weird,” he said, voice gentler now. “but i’m not sure how to deal with this either.”

“yeah, i get it,” you said, giving him a small smile. “i guess we’re both confused.”

he chuckled, but it was a little strained. “yeah… but please don’t shut me out, okay?”

your heart fluttered a little at his words, even though there were no clear answers. “i won’t,” you said, trying to sound as steady as you could.

riki gave a small nod, his hand brushing against yours. it wasn’t much, but it was a quiet reassurance that maybe, just maybe, things would work out.

previous | masterlist | next

AUTHORS NOTE — ooo whats next !!!!

TWEETS TO RiKi — @parkjjongswifey @stormy1408 @paradiseoflosers @blodwyn4u @lov4hoon @gyuudai @kittsnewera @rikidaze @notcamii @annybah @jvngw0nlvr @r1naqv @pkjay @nishikio @rairaiblog @stta-princess @haechology @aerijns @miniw0nz @httpzsho @athenaisonlinee @rikiscupid @starbyeol1512 @sunooqvrlsx

[sweetheartsofpanem]

Peach - Built to Be Wanted

hehe the start of a new slow burn series but don’t worry it’ll be filthy eventually🌝 i took so long posting this after the masterlist because i hated the original dividers i planned on using😭

pairing(s): refer to series masterlist

warnings: refer to series masterlist

word count: 3.89k

series masterlist | main masterlist

You’ve never been to District 12 before, but it looks exactly like you imagined.

Rebuilt, but not polished. Not finished.

Everything’s still a little dusty, like the buildings haven’t quite settled into place yet. The streets are wide and open, edged by rows of mismatched houses—some new and standing tall, others still waiting for their last coat of paint. You pass them with your duffel bag digging into your shoulder, sun beating hot against the back of your neck, and try not to let the knot in your stomach get any tighter.

The directions said to go straight to the municipal office once you got off the train.

So that’s what you do.

It’s not far. Just far enough to make you sweat. Just far enough to make you second-guess every step, every swing of your arms, every inch of your body.

The receptionist is an older woman with gray-streaked hair pulled into a bun and a clipboard she barely looks up from.

“Name?” she asks.

You shift your weight. “Y/N. I’m here for the nurse apprenticeship at the hospital. Was told there’d be housing ready when I arrived.”

She flips a few pages. Clicks her tongue. “It’s not.”

You blink. “I—I’m sorry?”

“The house. It’s not finished yet.” She doesn’t look up.

You stand there for a second too long, bag slipping slightly from your shoulder.

“They said it’d be ready by now,” you say quietly.

“Well, it’s not,” she replies, still flipping. “Construction got pushed back. Something with materials being rerouted to District 10. Not my department.”

You swallow hard. “Okay. So… where am I ‘sposed to stay?”

The woman finally glances up, eyebrows raised like you’re the one causing trouble.

“Victor’s Village. Just head that way.” She waves vaguely past the windows. “Someone there’ll take you in until your place is finished.”

“Thas’—” You bite your lip. “Are you sure?”

“They’ve got houses with space. You won’t be a bother.” A pause. “Probably.”

And that’s it.

No map. No guide. No explanation.

Just a tight smile and the sound of your own shoes on the tile as you step back out into the sunlight, heart beating too fast and throat too tight.

The walk to the Victor’s Village isn’t long, but it feels like it stretches on forever.

Maybe it’s the weight of your duffel digging into your shoulder. Maybe it’s the sweat slicking your back. Maybe it’s the way your brain keeps looping someone there will take you in like that’s a normal thing to say to someone who just got off a train in a brand-new district with nowhere to sleep.

You try not to let it show on your face.

The road curves a little as you reach the edge of town, and that’s when you see the fence.

It’s tall. Gated. Meant to separate the Victor’s Village from the rest of District 12, like it’s still its own world—even now, two years after the Games ended.

Inside the fence, the houses are… beautiful.

They’re not grand, exactly, but they look it. Bright white trim, deep porches, tall windows with hanging flower baskets and old-fashioned lanterns mounted beside the doors. Every home has signs of life—someone’s laundry hanging to dry on a line, a tricycle tipped over in a front yard, wind chimes clinking gently in the heat-still air.

All twelve houses are clearly occupied, most of them by people who came back after the war to help rebuild. It doesn’t look like a neighborhood for victors anymore. It just looks like a place for people who’ve lived through something.

You slow down without meaning to, eyes tracing the curve of a railing, the slant of a roof, the way the afternoon light pools golden on the porch steps.

You hover at the edge of the gate for a moment, heart in your throat.

Just pick one, you tell yourself.

You do.

You walk up to the porch of the nearest house with a flutter in your chest and knock twice—sharp, quick, before you can overthink it.

It takes less than five seconds for the door to open.

And then you nearly forget how to breathe.

Because of course.

Of course it had to be him.

Haymitch Abernathy.

One of the most famous men in all of Panem.

You recognize him immediately—greying blond hair, grey eyes, broad shoulders, and the kind of worn-in exhaustion that doesn’t fade, even two years after the war ended. He’s barefoot. Shirt slightly wrinkled. Holding what looks like a mug of coffee, though the sharp smell of liquor clings to the doorway like a second welcome mat.

He squints at you.

“Can I help you?”

Your mouth opens.

Then closes.

You absolutely did not plan for this.

You stare at him.

Not because you mean to. Definitely not because it’s polite.

But because—damn.

You remember seeing him on TV growing up. Reaping broadcasts. Capitol interviews. War coverage. He always looked tired, always had a drink in his hand, always said the most inappropriate thing at exactly the wrong time.

But even then, even as a kid…

You always thought he was attractive.

You just didn’t realize that in person he’d look like this.

Taller than you expected. Broader, too. His shirt’s wrinkled and a little threadbare at the collar, like he grabbed it off the floor that morning, and he smells like liquor and soap and something warm that you can’t place. His hair’s messy, his expression is unimpressed, and his bicep flexes slightly as he adjusts the mug in his hand—and you are staring.

Absolutely, shamelessly, staring.

You don’t even realize it until his eyebrows go up.

Then he gives you the once-over, slow and deliberate, eyes flicking from your face to your neck to the strap of your duffel and then lower.

And then he says, flatly, “Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?”

Your whole body jolts.

“I—no—sorry—I’m—um—”

You gesture vaguely toward the yard, your voice cracking right down the middle. “They told me to come to the Victor’s Village? Was ‘sposed to have a house but s’not ready an’ they said someone here might—might have space—so I jus’—”

You are rambling.

And still sweating.

And still actively trying not to pass out because he is somehow even hotter up close and also your emergency housing option.

Haymitch blinks at you.

Then he leans against the doorframe, sipping from the mug like he’s rethinking every decision he’s ever made.

You don’t move.

You don’t breathe.

“I didn’ mean to pick your house specifically,” you blurt, words falling out way too fast. “I didn’ know it was yours—obviously I recognize you now, like who wouldn’, you were on TV all the time and kind’ve helped end the Games an’ everythin’—”

He raises one eyebrow.

“—but I wasn’ like followin’ you or anythin’, I jus’ knocked, an’ you opened the door, an’ now I’m standin’ here, an’—um—”

You take a breath.

Immediately lose it again.

“I’m Y/N,” you say, like that explains everything. “I’m from District 9, I’m here for a nurse’s apprenticeship at the hospital—they started a new pediatric program an’ I applied months ago, they accepted me, an’ I was ‘sposed to have housing, but s’not finished, the receptionist jus’ said to come here, so I did, but now I’m on your porch an’ I’m really sorry—”

Haymitch stares at you.

Just stares.

Like he’s not entirely convinced you’re real.

You’re still talking.

“I brought my own things. I have toiletries. I won’ get in the way. I jus’ need somewhere to sleep until the house’s done, they said it’d take a month or two—maybe less dependin’ on materials—so I won’ be here long, you don’ even hafta talk to me if you don’ wanna, I’ll stay outta your way, I promise, I—”

“Girl,” he cuts in, holding up one hand. “Breathe.”

You stop.

Just like that.

Like your brain short-circuits.

Haymitch watches you for another beat. Then sighs like he’s already regretting whatever’s about to come out of his mouth.

“Well,” he mutters, stepping back into the house, “get in before you melt into the porch.”

And for some reason, that’s when your brain finally short-circuits for real.

Because of all the people you could’ve ended up living with—

It had to be Haymitch Abernathy.

The second you cross the threshold, the air changes.

It’s cooler inside, thank God, but it’s not just the temperature. The whole house feels dense with something—something quiet and heavy and his.

The place isn’t a disaster, not really. Not the way you’d imagined.

There’s clutter, yeah—books stacked in strange places, a few empty glasses on the side table, a half-folded blanket thrown over the back of the couch—but it’s clean where it counts. Lived-in. Comfortable. The kind of space that’s not trying to impress anyone.

Haymitch shuts the door behind you, his footsteps slow and even against the wood floors. He doesn’t say anything. Just walks past you into the living room and takes another sip from the mug like he didn’t just let a stranger into his house because the receptionist told her to knock.

You stay near the door, clutching the strap of your duffel like it’s the only thing tethering you to the ground.

The room smells like coffee and something woodsy. Old whiskey, maybe.

There’s a dent in the couch cushion like he always sits in the same spot.

You swallow and shift your weight, suddenly hyper-aware of the way your clothes cling to your skin. Of how much space you take up. Of how out of place you feel standing in the middle of his world, sweating and awkward and way too loud.

“I, um…” you start, voice softer now. “I can sleep wherever. Floor’s fine. Or the couch. Or—”

He cuts you off again, already walking toward the stairs. “There’s a guest room.”

You blink.

“Oh.”

He gestures toward the hallway. “Down the hall, last door on the left. Has a bed. It’s not fancy.”

“I don’ need fancy.”

He snorts. “Good. ‘Cause you’re not gettin’ it.”

You almost smile.

You wait until he disappears up the stairs before you let yourself exhale—slow, shaky, chest still tight with everything you’re not saying.

Okay. Guest room. One or two months. Don’t take up space.

You can do that.

You wait a few seconds after he disappears—just long enough to hear his footsteps fade—before you finally make yourself move.

The hallway is narrow but clean. Hardwood underfoot, pale walls, the faint smell of something citrusy. Not new, but well-kept. Like someone tries, even if they don’t talk about it.

You find the room easily. Last door on the left, just like he said.

It’s simple.

A twin bed with a patchwork quilt that doesn’t match the curtains. A wooden dresser with one drawer slightly open. A small desk pushed against the wall. No pictures. No clutter. Just clean, bare space and the soft, settled kind of quiet that makes your ears ring.

You close the door gently behind you.

Let your duffel fall to the floor beside the bed.

And finally—finally—you sit down.

The mattress dips under your weight, the quilt cool beneath your palms. You stare down at your hands, flexing your fingers like they don’t quite belong to you.

It hits you all at once.

You’re really here.

Not in District 9 anymore. Not in your shared bedroom with Mercher snoring on the bunk above you. Not helping your mom hang laundry or patch up injuries from the grain fields.

Here.

In District 12.

Living—temporarily—with Haymitch Abernathy.

You laugh once, breathless, disbelieving.

Then you reach for your bag and unzip it, fingers moving on autopilot as you unpack what little you brought. A soft bundle of pastel scrubs—purple, pink, blue—each with their own neat little pattern stitched along the hems. A framed photo of you, your mom, and Mercher, smiling in the field behind your old house. A worn paperback. A rolled-up knit blanket.

And tucked carefully beneath your clothes, the thing you’ll never admit to bringing.

The pink stuffed bear you’ve had since you were born.

You slip it under the pillow before you can think too hard about it.

Then you sit back again, palms resting on your thighs, back straight, shoulders tense like you’re waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Just quiet.

And a whole lot of unfamiliar air.

You sit on the edge of the bed a little longer than you probably need to.

The heat from the walk here hasn’t gone away. It’s still clinging to your skin, your shirt sticking to your lower back, your hair probably frizzing out in three different directions. You’re not even sure what time it is. Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, and your body’s still catching up.

Eventually, the discomfort wins out.

You stand, brushing your hands on your thighs, and glance once around the room like maybe it’ll offer you some kind of direction. It doesn’t. Just blank walls and soft light filtering through the curtains.

You grab your toiletries from your bag and steel yourself.

The hallway feels longer the second time.

You don’t hear him—don’t even know if he’s downstairs—but you clear your throat softly as you step around the corner, clutching your little toiletry pouch like it’s some kind of shield.

“Um…”

Haymitch looks up from the couch. He’s on the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent, arm slung over the side like he’s been there forever.

His eyes flick to yours.

Then to the bag in your hands.

“Bathroom’s second door on the right.”

You blink. “I—how’d’ya know I was gonna ask?”

“You’re real loud for somebody who barely talks.”

Your face warms.

He smirks like he can see it. “Shower works fine. Towels are under the sink. Don’t fall and die.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, ducking your head as you shuffle past.

“Welcome,” he says, already halfway back to whatever battered book he was reading.

The bathroom is small, but clean.

The tile’s a little chipped in places. The mirror’s got a smudge near the top edge. But it’s real. Lived in. It doesn’t feel sterile the way hospital bathrooms do, and it doesn’t feel impersonal like the ones at train stations. It just… is.

You close the door behind you with a quiet click, set your pouch on the edge of the sink, and turn the faucet in the tub until the water runs warm.

Then you sit on the closed toilet lid, elbows on your knees, and breathe.

“You’re real loud for somebody who barely talks.”

The words echo back into your chest, sharp at the edges.

You know he didn’t say anything about your body. Not directly.

But the tone. The timing. The way his eyes flicked down once before settling back on your face.

It stirs something old and too familiar in your gut.

Loud.

They used to say that in school too. Not about your voice. Not about your words.

About your footsteps.

About your size.

About the way you moved.

You sigh through your nose, shake your head like you can scrub it clean, and stand up.

The mirror isn’t kind. They never are. You keep your eyes low as you pull off your shirt, peeling it away from your damp skin. Your bra comes next—simple, worn, comfortable. Then your shorts. Underwear.

Everything ends up folded on the edge of the sink like that’ll make it feel less vulnerable.

You step into the tub, careful, and let the water pour over you.

It’s hot.

Too hot, maybe.

But you don’t turn it down.

You let it sting your shoulders and slide down your back, down your arms, over the full curve of your belly and thighs. Let it soak your hair, flatten the heat of the day, drown out the thoughts.

You always knew this wouldn’t be easy.

New place. New people. New version of yourself you’re trying so hard to believe in.

But standing there, steam curling around your face, the water pooling at your feet, you let yourself feel it for a minute.

The fear.

The weight.

The strange, quiet hope that maybe—not today, not yet—but maybe, something good will come out of it.

You don’t say anything.

Just lean your forehead against the cool tile wall.

And let yourself be still.

You stay in the shower longer than you mean to.

Long enough for your fingers to wrinkle. Long enough for your legs to ache from standing still. But the water feels good, and the tile doesn’t judge you, and it’s the only place that’s been quiet since you stepped off that train.

Eventually, you shut the water off.

Dry yourself carefully.

Your favorite pair of sweatpants are soft from too many washes, and the oversized t-shirt you brought smells like your mom’s fabric softener.

You glance at yourself in the mirror before leaving the bathroom.

Not long.

Just enough to tug the hem of the shirt lower and try not to cringe at your reflection.

The hallway is still quiet when you step out.

You hesitate in front of your bedroom door.

You could go back in. Shut it. Pretend this day never happened.

But you know yourself too well.

If you sit down, you’ll stay there. You’ll spiral. You’ll overthink everything from your voice to your posture to the way you stammered on his porch like you’d never seen a man before.

So instead—you turn toward the living room after tossing your clothes on the bedroom floor.

And you go.

Haymitch is still on the couch when you reappear, feet propped up on the coffee table, mug half-empty. He doesn’t look up right away, just glances toward the sound of your bare feet on the hardwood.

Then he raises an eyebrow.

“Thought you disappeared.”

You shake your head, arms crossed tight over your chest. “Jus’ didn’ wanna be a bother.”

“You’re not,” he says, too casual.

Then pauses.

“Yet.”

You huff under your breath and make your way toward the armchair opposite the couch. It had a worn-in cushion and a little throw pillow tucked in the corner. You pull that pillow into your lap the second you sit, fingers worrying the edge of it like it might give you something solid to hold.

Haymitch glances at you.

Doesn’t say anything else.

The silence stretches.

But it’s not the worst thing you’ve ever sat in.

The pillow is soft.

You press your arms into it, fingers curled tight around the edge, trying not to let your shoulders round in too much. You stare at a spot on the floor between your feet for a few seconds, then glance up.

The room’s still quiet.

No music. No television. Just the sound of the fan spinning lazily overhead and the occasional clink of Haymitch’s mug when he shifts it in his hand.

You let your gaze wander—slow, careful, trying not to be obvious.

There’s a bookshelf near the fireplace, crammed with mismatched paperbacks, some shelved sideways, some stacked on top of others. A coat tossed over the back of a kitchen chair. A pair of boots by the door. A blanket draped over the back of the couch that looks handmade, maybe even hand-stitched.

Everything feels… lived in. Not carefully decorated, not showy. Just his.

You blink back down at the pillow in your lap.

“How old are you?” he asks, suddenly.

You jolt a little.

Look up.

He’s watching you now—not intensely, not probing, just… looking. Elbow on the armrest. Mug resting against his thigh.

“Twenny,” you say.

He nods. “So fresh outta school?”

You shake your head. “Finished when I was eighteen, like right before the war.”

“Huh.”

Another sip of his drink.

“You from the grain side of Nine?”

You tilt your head slightly. “Born an’ raised.”

“Figures. You got the look.”

Your eyebrows pinch together. “The look?”

“Hard worker. Tired eyes. Pretty girl who doesn’t think she’s pretty.”

You blink.

He says it like it’s a fact.

Like he’s not even trying to make a point. Just noting it.

Your face heats immediately, and you bury it in a shrug. “Y’all’re real blunt out here.”

He smirks. “You ain’t seen blunt yet.”

You snort under your breath and look back down at the pillow, still clutching it to your stomach.

He doesn’t say anything else right away.

Just lets the quiet settle again.

This time… it doesn’t feel quite so heavy.

You sit with his words still echoing in your chest.

Pretty girl who doesn’t think she’s pretty.

You’re not sure what to do with that.

Not when it sounded like nothing more than a casual observation. Not when he said it without looking at you too long. Not when it didn’t feel cruel—but didn’t feel like a compliment either.

You glance up again.

He’s still watching you. Or half-watching. Eyes on his mug, flicking your way every few seconds like he’s still deciding whether or not you’re going to pass out on his rug.

You shift, hug the pillow a little tighter.

Then, before you can talk yourself out of it, “Can I ask you somethin’?”

His eyebrows raise slightly. “Sure.”

“You always lived here?”

He nods once. “Born in Twelve. Stayed in Twelve. Didn’t exactly have time to go house hunting.”

You look down at your fingers, picking at the edge of the pillow. “What’s it like? Livin’ in the Victor’s Village.”

He shrugs. “Used to be empty. Quiet. Not so quiet now.”

You snort softly. “That your way of sayin’ I’m already disruptin’ your peace?”

He smirks. “Not yet.”

There’s a pause. Not uncomfortable. Just… hovering.

You press on, quieter this time. “I’ve never been in one before. A Victor’s Village. We have one back in Nine, but s’always been gated off. I always wondered what it’d look like on the inside.”

Haymitch leans back in his seat, the leather creaking. “You expected gold trim and champagne fountains?”

“I expected not to knock on your door,” you mutter before you can stop yourself.

His grin turns sharp.

“Still time to change your mind, peach.”

You blink.

Then furrow your brow. “Did’ya jus’ call me peach?”

“Mm.” He takes a sip of his drink. “You look like one.”

You freeze.

Your stomach twists, the smile slipping from your face before you even realize it was there. He says it so casually—so offhand, like he’s not thinking—but all you can hear is the echo of voices from years ago. Boys laughing. Snickering behind lockers. Round like a peach. Big like a pig.

Pretty girl who doesn’t think she’s pretty.

Right.

You let out a quiet, awkward laugh and stand too quickly. “Um. I should probably unpack the rest of my stuff. Long day.”

Haymitch glances up at you, something unreadable in his expression, but he doesn’t stop you.

“Right,” he says. “Sure.”

You nod once, too fast, clutch the pillow tighter before dropping it, and shuffle back toward the hallway before he can say anything else.

The moment the door closes behind you, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding.

And try not to think too hard about what he meant.

Or why it hurt so much.

Next

[hvnsinureyes]

𝒾'𝓋𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹 𝑜𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊. . . | stephen curry

request | "can you pleaseee write steph being husband ishhh"

warnings | fluff— reader is sick, steph takes care of her!

author’s note | so guess who’s sick! meeee! im lowkey pissed abt it but it's wtv :( idk if i’ll be posting a lot this weekend, but i am close to finishing another austin fic!

ALL IT TOOK WAS one sneeze. a second one. then, another.

and when you reached over to grab a tissue, steph just knew. you were sick. there was no escaping him when he realized, he practically cornered you in the kitchen when he heard it. not before saying bless you, of course.

and as much as steph is an amazing shooter, he is also one of the most caring people you know. and very stubborn too, never backing down until he gets what he wants. that's why you could barely resist when you were suddenly bundled up in warm sheets and blankets, which faintly smelled like fresh laundry and his cologne, giving you a nice sense of comfort.

on the nightstand beside you, a steaming cup of tea sat, its aroma wafting through the air. and next to it, was a bunch of medicine and tissue all within easy reach. steph had thought of everything, each detail done with the kind of love that was quiet but undeniable. unfortunately for steph though, you were just as hard headed.

"steph, all i did was literally sneeze. i’m fine, i—" you started, trying to sit up a little despite the weight of the blankets, but steph gently sets you back down, glaring a bit. "nope, don't start. you’re sick." his expression let you know there was no room for argument, but you pressed on anyway.

"i have work." you whine. it's not like you're a workaholic, but you hated not sticking to your routine. missing a day of work meant being behind, having to fix what your coworkers did wrong, and getting overwhelmed with tasks once again. being sick was the last thing you needed right now. but it didn't matter. steph put his hand against your forehead, immediately shaking his head. you were practically burning up. "you have a fever."

"rest up, seriously," steph said, voice softening as he gently smoothed the blankets around you, ensuring you were as comfortable as possible. "i already let your boss know,"

"but— who’s gonna make dinner tonight?"

he gave you a proud smile, ready to take up the challenge and show off his skills for once. steph isn't a master chef or anything— well, he is on the court, but he's picked up a few things since marrying you. "me, duh! i've already got an idea. chicken alfredo."

"...honey, i don’t think that’s a good idea." he already knew what you were talking about just from your raised eyebrow. it was when you were on a business trip, and steph was in charge of making dinner for the kids. long story short, the pasta caught on fire, somehow. "one time! it was one time."

"fine, okay." you sighed, "well, what about the kids? the laundry still isn't done and i still need to go grocery shopping—"

"baby, please," he murmured, kissing your forehead. "let me take care of you, alright? you don’t need to worry about anything but sleep."

you glance back at steph, your gaze meeting his concerned one. in that moment, the worry in his eyes was undeniable. he doesn't have to say anything, really, you know what he wants to say.

i'm here, let me help you.

it now hits you how much you've been taking up on your own. the weight of everything—work, home, responsibilities, has been crushing you. maybe being sick was what you needed to finally take a break. it's weird to let things go, but looking into steph's eyes, knowing that he's not going anywhere, no matter how much you push him away, lets you know that he's willing to take it all up for you.

"you don’t have to be tough all the time, you know," he said quietly. "i've got you."

"i know," you whispered, reaching out to lace your fingers through his. "i don’t want to be a burden."

steph's hand tightened around yours, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles.

"nah. you could never be a burden. what you are is the love of my life."