#i beat the game like almost a month ago now??

[chrissturnsfav]

dunno if u fw tay swift but.. imagine chris and reader at a party and like they are bestfriends but they are both secretly in love with eachother. and in the song “Dress” by taylor one of the lyrics goes like “i dont want you like a bestfriend. only bought this dress so you could take it off” so basicallyyy true love and looking into eachothers eyes in love missionary type sex 😛

if this would be a bit too long to write, i apologize but i am jot a writer and i cannot execute the idea myself 🙏

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒 > 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒

you and chris confess your love to each other through a taylor swift song, leading to a passionate exchange.

ᰔᩚ fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (wrap it b4 you tap it), passionate sex, friends to lovers, softdom!chris, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, finger sucking, creampie

ᰔᩚ w.c. 1,756

the party is a blur of laughter, music, and neon lights that spill through the house. people are everywhere—dancing, talking, leaning into each other in dark corners—but your focus is on chris. it always is—especially with a few drinks in your system.

he’s standing next to you, holding a half-empty beer, his shoulder brushing yours every so often. each time it happens, it sends a quiet thrill through you, one you’ve gotten too good at hiding.

"so lemme get this straight," he says, grinning at you in that way that makes your heart trip over itself. "you actually thought karaoke at me, matt, and nick's birthday party was a good idea?"

you laugh, rolling your eyes, even though your face is already heating up as you talk over the loud music. “it was fun! everyone had a good time.”

"you sang lauryn hill and it was fuckin' horrible," he teases with a chuckle, his tone dripping with mock seriousness. "i don’t think anyone is over that yet."

"well, here you are, still bringing it up even though it was five months ago," you fire back, smirking. “seems like you were impressed."

his grin softens into something warmer, something that makes you struggle to breathe. "maybe i was."

you can’t tell if he’s joking or not, and it’s dangerous, this game you play. this flirting that feels too real sometimes, like it’s about to shift over into something else. something neither of you can take back.

the music shifts, and suddenly, "dress" by taylor swift is playing. the melody thrums in your chest, and the lyrics weave their way into the air between you.

i don’t want you like a best friend…

you glance at chris, and he’s already looking at you. it’s subtle, but his smile falters for a second, his eyes darker, more intense.

"this song," he says, his voice quieter now, almost drowned out by the music.

"yeah," you manage, trying to keep your tone casual, even as your pulse races.

he takes a sip of his beer, but his hand shakes just enough for you to notice. "it’s like… a lot, isn’t it?"

"depends on how you hear it," you reply, your voice steady, but barely.

his eyes flicker to yours again, holding your gaze for just a beat too long. it’s enough to make your chest ache, the unspoken words between you heavy and impossible to ignore.

"you alright?" you ask softly, leaning in so only he can hear you.

he huffs a nervous laugh, running a hand through his hair that falls over his forehead so perfectly. "yeah, just…" he hesitates, his brow furrowing like he’s fighting himself. "i need to say somethin'."

your heart lurches. this is it. you can feel it, the edge of something inevitable.

"okay," you whisper, your throat dry.

he looks at you, his expression so open, so raw, it almost hurts. it feels like his usual confidence has diminished into something softer. "the lyrics are hittin' a little too hard," he hints. "i dunno if i want you like a best friend."

your breath catches, your grip tightening on your drink. “chris…”

"i mean, i do—" he stumbles over the words, his voice rushing now, like he’s afraid to stop. "you’re my best friend, and that’s fuckin' everything to me. but it’s not… it’s not all."

you blink, trying to process, trying to breathe. "not all?"

he steps closer, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him. "i’ve been tryin' to ignore it, but it’s you. it’s always been you. like..i dunno, kid. i guess i just don't wanna pretend anymore."

his words hit you like a tidal wave, washing over every doubt and fear you’ve carried for so long.

"chris," you say again, your voice trembling now, but he’s already shaking his head.

"it’s okay if you don’t feel the same," he says quickly, his eyes dropping to the floor. "just felt like i needed you to know."

you reach for his hand, your fingers brushing his, and he looks up, startled.

"you’re not wrong," you say, barely able to get the words out.

his eyes widen, and for a moment, he just stares at you like he’s trying to make sure he heard you right.

"this dress," you continue, your voice steadier now, but still soft. "i honestly only wore it so you’d notice."

the way his gaze darkens, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something but can’t find the words—it’s intoxicating.

"i noticed, ma," he murmurs, and his voice is rough now, full of something you’ve only dreamed about, and then he smirks. that stupid, sexy smirk he always does. the pet name sends shivers down your spine, ma, it rolls off his tongue as if he's been wanting to call you that all his life.

before either of you can think, before the moment can slip away, you grab his hand, pulling him through the crowd. he follows without hesitation, your fingers intertwined like they were always meant to be.

you weave through the hall until you reach a bedroom, pushing the door open and dragging him inside. the music fades into the background as the door clicks shut behind you, leaving just the two of you in the quiet space.

you barely have time to look at him before his hands are on your waist, his lips crashing into yours like he’s been holding back for years.

and maybe he has. maybe you both have.

his kiss is everything you’ve imagined and more—urgent but tender, full of all the things he’s never said but you’ve always felt.

his hands grip your waist like he’s afraid you might disappear, and you’re not much different, your fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer, needing him closer.

"fuck," he whispers against your lips, his breath shaky as he pulls back just enough to look at you. his eyes are wild, full of something that makes your knees weak. "i’ve wanted to do that for so long."

you laugh softly, the sound breathless and giddy. "me too. me fucking too."

he groans, resting his forehead against yours. "why didn’t we do this sooner?"

"we’re stupid," you say, grinning, your hand slipping down to rest on his chest.

you can feel the steady, frantic beat of his heart under your palm, matching your own. "clearly."

he laughs too, and it’s the best sound in the world, low and warm and full of relief.

"i was so scared," he admits, his voice quieter now. his thumb brushes your cheek, his touch featherlight but grounding. "scared that if i said anything, i’d ruin everything. that i’d lose you."

your chest tightens, and you shake your head. "nah, you could never lose me, chris. never."

"same goes for you, you know," you add, your voice soft but steady. "i was scared too. but i couldn’t stop thinking about you. couldn’t stop wanting you."

his lips curve into a small, almost shy smile, so different from the confident, teasing chris you know. "so, what now?" you ask.

chris answers your question when he has you flat on your back on the random bed, your dress hiked up to your waist, his jeans and boxers resting mid thigh. he's holding onto your thighs with a gentle yet firm grip, giving you slow, hard, passionate thrusts.

your arms are tangled around his neck, little, soft moans leaving your glossy lips, lidded eyes staring into his as he pants against your face with his forehead pressed against yours.

"you feel—fuck—feel fuckin' amazing," he groans softly, his lips ghosting yours, swallowing the little moans you breathe out.

you whine, your eyes rolling back. you knew chris would be good, all those stories about his hookups gave him a reputation, but you'd never think you'd ever be under him. you also never knew he would fuck you almost like he loves you, but not as a best friend—as a lover.

"chris," you gasp, arms moving to cup his face and cradle it in your hands, eliciting a whimper from his pretty lips. he moves one hand from your thigh to gently grip your wrist, moving his mouth to press a soft kiss to your palm that makes your body shudder.

"been wantin' this for so fuckin' long," he grunts softly, brushing his lips against yours making chills course through your body.

"m-me...too," you mumble through whines, pressing your lips to his jaw, sucking and kissing at his skin.

chris gasps softly, hissing in pleasure as he bites his bottom lip and closes his eyes, "fuck, keep doin' that and you're gonna make me cum."

you let out a giggly moan against his jaw, laying your head back flat against the bed. "m-mmph," you whine, a little more high pitched as your back arches off the bed, your gummy walls squeezing his lengthy cock. "m-m'close...chris...close..."

he grunts above you at the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing around him, tightening his grip on your thighs, his thrusts growing a little faster and sloppier, "fuuuck...gonna make me fuckin' cum, pretty girl...jesus..."

"c-chris—chris," you whine louder, your eyes rolling back as your jaw falls slack, a knot tightening deliciously in your belly, one you've felt before with other guys, but this time it's different. it's so much better.

"yeah, c'mon baby," he mutters, lidded eyes staring into your closed ones. he gently grips your jaw, brushing his thumb over your plush bottom lip. "open those pretty eyes f'me, wanna see you."

you force your eyes open, lidded and glossy with tears of pleasure, panting against his thumb as your walls squeeze around him tighter and your thighs begin to tremble.

chris smiles sweetly down at you as he gets closer, his thrusts even more uncoordinated and sloppy. "there she is, my girl," he groans softly, gently pressing his thumb into your warm, wet mouth.

his words make your body shudder, a loud gasp leaving your lips as you cum. jolts of pleasure make your thighs shake, your nails sinking into his clothed back, "oh my god," you cry out in ecstasy around his thumb, your jaw falling slack, your eyes still on him.

"i know," he coos, groaning softly at your whimpers and pants as you swirl your tongue around his thumb, "o-oh, fuck, baby, fuck...shit..." he grunts softly.

his body shakes slightly, his hips stuttering as his eyes roll back and he grunts, his fingers digging into your thigh as he cums deep inside you. you've never felt so full, your wet pussy stuffed full of his cum making you whimper in pleasure.

after cleaning up, you both step back into the party, the two of you still glowing with the electricity of what just happened, everything feels different. brighter.

𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿'𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲: i'm not a swiftie so i hope i executed this well enough! also sorry if it was a lil corny eek.

thank you for reading!! <3

tags: @sturnobsessedwh0re , @idrk2292 , @mattsbrat , @ribbonlovergirl , @sturnhyyhblog , @matthewsroses , @mattsdemi , @emely9274 , @frankoceanfanpage , @ifwdominicfike , @marrykisskilled , @strnilolover , @cayleeuhithinknott , @forgottxen , @sophand4n4 , @sturnsrecord , @purpledragon222 , @faiyaz555 , @jocelyncsblog , @freakiolos , @slut4chris888 , @chriss-slutt , @ilovedanielcaesar , @annsx03 , @snoopychris , @chrissweetheart

@chrissturnsfav ™

[digizeez]

🅿‼

[peridots-pixiwolf]

yknow I play a lot of hard games but usually not "took 73 days to beat" hard

[saerins]

ᯓ ᝰ CRAZY GOOD .ᐟ — itoshi sae

hold up, netizens. you’re in for a treat this time because guess what? out of all people, it’s time for itoshi sae to hard launch his girlfriend: you.

itoshi sae x female reader. content tags pro-player!sae, established relationship, profanity, kissing, kind of a tease here, he likes showing you off, oliver is the matchmaker. word count 1.5k

ᯓ notes .ᐟ hi guys i finally have some sae content for you all !!! >:) yes i’ve missed him , and no i didn’t abandon him :’) heh i hope all my sae lovers that are still here will like this mwah <3

there are many things that itoshi sae is good at.

soccer skills, one of them. snubbing people, the second. (that’s how he got the reputation of being rude—even if it’s not really true!) and three, not last and not least (but still substantially), it’s causing a buzz.

he caused a buzz the moment he debuted on the soccer field. his first game and he already made a name for himself. people started asking where he’d been his whole life (even if he was introduced to the people very early on), equating him to soccer megastars like cristiano ronaldo.

ever since that day, he’d been caught in the spotlight numerous times. mostly related to soccer, but some due to his personal life. more specifically, the media loves to take a guess on who he’s dating.

yeah, he’s had more than his fair share of dating rumours. if it were up to the media, sae would have had about thirty-four girlfriends by now and he’s only twenty-six this year. (go fish!)

but as many people do, almost everyone who consumes media content about sae is particularly interested in one thing that is shrouded in mystery: his dating life.

because despite all the rumours and whatnot, there’s never been any confirmation of any relationships at all. and no one in his circle has ever coughed anything up, so anything in that regard has been strictly hush-hush.

well, until tonight, when your boyfriend of six months invited you to one of his teammates’ high-profile birthday party.

“what, are you nervous?”

your boyfriend’s ever unbothered tone is still the same as when you first heard it a year ago. somehow you find it funny that one year later you’re living with the same guy you’d first found to be somewhat intolerable.

sighing, you try and zip up the back of your dress, looking into the mirror, making sure you have your best face on. “sae, you have fans that number in the millions, of course i’m nervous,” you comment, watching from the reflection in the mirror as sae saunters over to you, taking his hands out of his pocket.

he smirks at you through the mirror, his body pressed against you as he helps you zip your dress the rest of the way up, his lips right next to your ear. “i’ve never even seen you this nervous in front of me,” he says, poking a little fun at you as he gives you a light kiss on your temple.

a soft chuckle comes from him as you deadpan, obviously in much more distress than he’ll ever know. not that he’ll blame you; he’s used to the fame, you’re not. “relax, they’ll love you.”

“sae, they won’t.”

he shrugs. “yeah, you’re probably right,” he agrees, earning a small slap on the arm—and he’s laughing again, though this time he tilts your chin up and gives you a long, slow kiss. the kind that takes your breath away everytime he does it. “but who cares? i love you.”

and there he goes, saying that as if it’s no big deal. making your heart beat so quickly it’s not funny. and before you know it, he’s whisking you away into the lobby where a personal towncar is ready and waiting, with the chauffeur and everything.

“geez, oliver sure loves to go over the top, huh?”

sae gives a sharp exhale at your comment. “hey, that’s your friend right there.”

you roll your eyes, getting in first and sticking your tongue out at him. “and you should be thanking him, without him we’d never have met.”

you look away from him right after saying that so you don’t see it, but sae’s smiling to himself, already thanking his lucky stars.

he thinks meeting you and getting to love you is the luckiest he’ll ever get in this lifetime.

by the time you’ve arrived at the venue—a hotel in the heart of the city—swarms of paparazzi already litter the streets outside. they’ve no doubt had their fill of the other soccer players and mega celebrities that have already arrived and are now ready for the real star of the night (aside from the birthday boy himself): itoshi sae.

of course, everyone’s expecting to see sae all by himself because that’s what usually happens; sae attending any and every event alone and unbothered by the scene. it’s never a surprise anymore, but sae’s a good payday and they’d never miss a single shot.

the moment sae exits the car, it sounds like there’s a million shutters pressed all at the same time, give or take a few milliseconds. (it’s nothing you’re used to.) he stands right where he got out for a few seconds, and even inside you can hear the amount of photographers just begging sae to look straight at them.

and if you think that’s rowdy enough, oh boy you’re in for a treat. because the moment the paparazzi realise that sae’s not, in fact, headed for the hotel just yet, you can hear just a few confused noises before it turns into even more pleading the moment they realise he’s opening your side of the door.

when he opens it and holds his hand out for you, that ever handsome smile on his face (which you forget that he only ever shows to you), you feel like you’re nearly blinded by all the flashes. you brave through it though, taking his hand and getting out of the town car, being greeted by the mass of photographers yelling out to you and sae.

“sae, who is that!”

“hey, girl! look over here! yes right there!”

“what’s your relationship?”

“obviously that’s his girlfriend! hey you!”

you’re a little wide-eyed, stunned at how chaotic this scene is. it’s easy to lose yourself in it, but as it always is, sae realises it whenever you are, and he’s quick to pull you back in.

in this case, he pulls you into his arms, a hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as he rests his forehead against yours.

“hey, focus on me, just me,” he whispers to you, eyes looking into yours, eyelashes fluttering against one another’s.

(the paparazzi are having a field day.)

“you’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you ask him, chuckling because you only now realise what a fucking tease he is.

sae shrugs, pulling your hair away from your face. (he’s actually just really grateful to you for doing this for him when you don’t need to—when you’re happy to just be able to support him behind the scenes but he really just wants the world to know that you exist, because it’s a blessing, really.) “maybe i am.”

and this time your heart’s beating faster than you know it ever could, his teal blue eyes melting into your gaze, lips getting closer and closer to your own, his calloused hand on the back of your neck.

like clockwork, his lips sink into yours, his tongue snaking its way in. (and the crowd goes absolutely wild.) you’re both laughing at the panicked and hurried yells from the photographers, slowly pulling away from each other.

you reach your hand out to wipe your lipstick stain off his lips but he doesn’t let you, winking at you and leaning in to whisper, “let everyone know who i belong to.”

such a fucking tease.

not that you’re opposed, so you let him be, shaking your head and following him as he holds your hand and leads you in.

within the next hour, pictures of you and sae flood the internet. (notifications come flooding into your phone too.)

itoshi sae hard launches new relationship with mystery woman!

soccer world loses another bachelor—everything we know about itoshi sae’s presumed girlfriend

most of them are pictures of your kiss, with a good chunk of it being his lipstick-stained lips.

as you scroll through some of the articles your friends texted to you, you’re probably never going to be used to it. you’re probably going to be anxious over everything you do in public now.

a slight panic bubbles up in your chest, but then sae comes over, pulling you backwards into his embrace, looking over your shoulder at your phone.

“that quick, huh?”

and suddenly it’s like anxiety has never existed. because even if it may not seem like much, a year of knowing itoshi sae has made you feel safer than you ever did, knowing that he’s always there to catch you, to never make you feel alone.

you melt into his embrace, turning your head and giving him a kiss, your lipstick stain still on his lips.

“i fucking love you, itoshi sae.”

his eyes widen a little before they grow soft, arms pulling you even closer. “i love you too, stupid.”

(and while the two of you are getting all lovey-dovey at his party, oliver’s just slightly—a lot—upset that sae upstaged him during his own birthday party.)

“i fucking hate the both of you,” oliver groans.

[chleem]

Casual /extra

One shot; college students drew x reader

Summary: “Baby, no attachments.” yet, you’re at his childhood home, laughing with his parents, bonding with his siblings. 

Genre: situation-ship, smut, fluff, slight angst

Warnings: swearing, sex, light read, drew's a player :(

⋆.˚ official one shot here | extra2

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work

♡⸝⸝ "it's hard being casual when my favorite bra lives in your dresser"

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Whose bra is this?”

Drew’s eyes dart to the source, feeling wary. Who else could be in his room right now?

Oh right. The girl he met last night. She’s wearing his t-shirt like it’s his, rummaging through his dresser. She turns around holding a red bra. Your red bra. 

Drew raises an eyebrow, looking at the girl skeptically. What’s her name again? He honestly has no idea, and isn’t planning on remembering. “I..I thought you left.”

“Let’s grab breakfast together,” she happily chirps, before returning to the bra in her hands, holding it as if it contained some deadly disease. “Now, who’s bra is this?”

Drew doesn’t reply; and the girl adds on, “is it the girl you moaned out last night?” 

Drew cocks his head to the side. What is this bitch on, he thinks. He sends her a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, walks over, and snatches the bra out of her hands. He tugs it back in his dresser, pushing it close. “You should leave.”

He turns around and sees the graphic design that's on the shirt the girl's currently wearing. That’s the shirt you got him. One of his favorite. “Um, leave the shirt here.” 

It’s the girl’s turn to look at him skeptically. “What?”

“Yeah, uh, leave the shirt here, and forget this ever happened, alright?” 

Drew throws his towel over his gaming chair, and grabs his sweatpants. He puts it on, ignoring the shocked expression on her face. He lays down on his bed, picks up his phone, and starts scrolling through his messages. 

When she realizes that he doesn’t give a shit, she angrily takes the t-shirt off, throwing it into his face. “Thanks,” Drew says rather sourly, putting it to the side. She puts on her dress from last night, grabbing any remaining clothing around the place. 

“We have class together, you dick!” She yells, as if that would make Drew care. 

He hums, obviously too focused on his phone. Only the slam of his room door makes him slightly flinch, but even so, his eyes go back to his phone.

Now, what was he so focused on? Well, texting you. 

——

I’m at the soccer field

This simple text was enough to get Drew out of his dorm, walking as fast as he could to go see you. 

A smile on his lips that appear on its own, just from seeing you sit on the bleachers, watching the soccer team practice. Or more, get yelled at by their coach. 

You don’t even notice him sit down beside you; too engrossed in the music coming from your AirPods. 

It’s when he takes one AirPod out of your ear, when you finally notice him. “Hey,” he breathes out, putting the AirPod into his own ear.

“Hi,” you smile, your eyes landing on his shirt. Oh. He’s wearing the shirt you got him as a gift a few months ago, for Christmas. He wears it quite often, but every time you see it on him, warmth still fills your stomach. “Nice shirt, handsome.”

“Really?” He nudges your knee with his. “An amazing girl got me this.”

He says stuff like this; that makes you wonder if it’s still casual. 

“Interesting,” you lean in closer to him, your eyes glancing down at his lips and then at his eyes. You haven’t seen him in almost two weeks; due to spring break. Mentally, you were glad to be away from Drew, to clear your mind a bit. Physically? Well, let’s just say sexting was not as satisfying as the real thing. 

“What song is this again?” He suddenly asks, smiling fondly at you. You get ready to answer, but Drew beats you to it, replying to his own question. “The Smiths, right?” 

You mimic the ding noise, making him chuckle under his breath. “You know me so well,” you say, bit of sarcasm in your voice. Duh, he knows a lot about you; casual for more than five months at this point.

“Of course.” he’s smiling ear to ear. 

You roll your eyes at his response, but feel your own smile growing. You lean down against his shoulder, looking out onto the field. The weight of looking into his eyes was getting heavy. 

It’s quiet for a few seconds, until you speak up. 

“That guy has been yelled at by the coach ten times already.”

You feel Drew’s chest vibrate against you, his laughter erupting softly. “Ten times? What a retard.”

You chuckle softly, only because Drew finds it funny. “But the coach was being a meanie.”

The said guy has the ball now, and when he attempts to score it in, he misses and falls onto the ground. That causes the coach to yell at him again. “Well, eleventh time,” Drew adds on. 

“Next Fifa champion,” you add on. Drew laughs again, as if that joke was the funniest thing he’s ever heard. You pull away from leaning on his shoulder, and stare at his smile. “Was it that funny?” You ask. 

He turns his head over to you, the smile still there. Or more like, ever since he sat down, his lips were always curled up. “You should be a comedian.”

That makes you laugh, and you push his shoulder, “nonsense.”

Your laughter dies down when you see how smitten his stare on you is. 

His eyes glance down at your lips, then back to your eyes, “I missed you.”

Casual, casual, casual.

“You did?” You cock your head to the side flirtatiously. Part of you thought it was fun to flirt with Drew; to hear the nice things he has to say about you. The other part of you hated how sweet Drew was with you; when the two of you were just ‘casually’ sleeping together. 

“Think I’ve already said that over text though,” his voice drops low, and he starts to lean close to you. The look on his face says it all; he wants to kiss you.

“Flatter me and tell me in person too, won’t you?” You continue to say, a smirk on your lips. 

He leans forward and kisses your cheek gently, “how ‘bout I show you instead?”

Oh. Oh. The butterflies are throwing up in your stomach right now, because of this man’s sly mouth. How he just casually brings up wanting to have sex with you, within minutes of seeing each other. 

Seems like he really does miss you. 

Casual, casual, casual. 

“How is one suppose to refuse to that?”

“Hmm,” he hums, and his eyes glued to your lips tell you everything; his mind is already elsewhere, imagining the most dirty things to do with you. Or, what he’s going to do with you. 

He leans in, this time, kissing you on the lips. His tongue meets yours hungrily and lustfully, exploring every corner. He kisses you as if it’s the only way for him to breathe, only way for him to live on. 

You hate that; yet you kiss him back with the same eagerness. 

Make-out session at the bleachers? How romantic. How sweet. How casual. 

You pull away, feeling breathless from how good his kisses are. And you too realize that you missed him too, something you don’t want to admit. Because, who misses someone you only see casually? That’s weird.

His eyes are still glued to your lips, and you see a small trail of saliva near the corner of it. You chuckle softly, wiping it off with your thumb. “You know…”

He hums yet again, even though you haven’t even gotten to the main point of your sentence. “…I got a gift for you….in my room,” you manage to breathe out, and he kisses your jaw. 

Aka, let’s go have sex in my room, right now. 

“How lovely,” he smiles against your neck, planting a kiss there. 

“You wanna see it?” You run your hands through his hair, down his nape, fingertips scratching it lightly. That makes him bury himself deeper into your neck, his arms wrapping around you.

“Yes please.”

——

The moment you unlocked your room, Drew rushes you inside, until you land on the soft cushions of your couch. 

You giggle, watching him take his top off, his legs on either side of you, caging you onto the couch. “Should I continue my story or no?”

“Mmm, lemme guess,” Drew remains eye contact with you, but his hands focus on undoing the zipper of your shorts. “Everyone got food poisoning, just because of you.”

You lift your hips, him pulling your shorts down, “everyone was rushed into the ER.”

Drew laughs, ushering you to sit up. He pulls your top over your head, leaving you only in your bra and underwear. “And still you insist on cooking for me.”

“Only because you always ask to stay in,” you reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Making me improvise on dinner.”

“Mmhm,” he stares down at your lips, distracted like always. He kisses you sloppily, his hands running along your back. You moan into his mouth, as he pushes you down onto the pillows. 

“I miss you,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking gently on the area around there;

The angel on your shoulder likes the sweet things he says; the devil on the other side likes to doubt his every word, repeating the phrase in your ear:

Casual, casual, casual. 

One hand kneads your thigh, the other pinning your waist to the couch. His lips move onto your breasts, where they skillfully move around the bra. He wraps his lips around your nipples, making you gasp in pleasure. 

But the bra starts to feel itchy, which you breathe out, “just take it off.”

He smirks against your nipples, pulling away just to unclip your bra. You help him, pushing the bra off, discarding it on the floor. He leans down again, this time, sucking on the other breast. 

“Fuck..” You moan, as he stops, trailing his lips down your stomach. He leaves soft kisses along your belly button, his fingers working with pulling your underwear down. 

“Missed you.” 

This time, he says it while looking down at your pussy. 

The air hits your wet pussy, soon cut off by Drew’s warm palm. 

“Wet already,” he chuckles, his fingers playing with your folds. Too consumed with lust, you don’t even reply to that comment. 

He sticks two fingers into you, thrusting in a slow pace. “You’re tight,” he breathes out, kissing your neck. 

You wrap your arms around his neck lazily, “haven’t seen you in forever.”

“Forever, huh?”

“C’mon, don’t act like its not the same for you-“ he adds the third finger, cutting off your sentence. You moan loudly, as he starts to move in a faster pace. Swear, you can cum just on his fingers alone. 

He smiles against your face, and kisses your ear. Occasionally, he grunts, trying to stretch you out as much as he can. 

Okay. Maybe you could cum on his fingers alone, but it wouldn’t be as good as the real thing. “I want you,” you manage to say between moans, his fingers working hard on your pussy. 

He kisses your forehead, “good to know.”

What a teasing prick. You squeeze his bicep, hoping he gets the message. It’s not easy to talk when he’s got his fingers deep in you. You give him a lazy glare; and he just laughs, “I’know.”

He pulls out of you, and you immediately clench around nothing, your folds missing Drew. He gets entirely off of you, and walks into your bedroom.

Drew knew where you kept the condoms; since, well, he’s constantly fucking you. 

You stare at the ceiling while waiting for him. 

A few seconds of silence passes.

“Y/n!” He yells, before walking out a few seconds later. You turn your gaze to him, who’s holding the entire box of condoms in his hands. He smiles wryly, “it’s expired.”

You furrow your eyebrows, sitting up slightly. He walks over to you, showing you the date on the box. Yeah, it is expired. But you bought this a few weeks ago. Wait…

“No wonder it was so cheap,” you groan, throwing your head back on the couch pillow. 

“This shit…won’t break that easily, right?”

You glance at Drew. He looks at you, hoping you would agree to his thought. His eyes shine in anticipation, the curl of his lips upwards. “…I guess?”

“I’ll…even pull out before I cum,” he shrugs, also hoping you would agree. 

“I… I take pills,” you add on, ignoring the calls of ‘bad idea!’ going on in your mind. Lust was in charge now, and it’s commanding you to get fucked by Drew, even with the huge amount of risks it comes with. 

He breaks into a smile, leaning down and kissing you. “Hey…so it’s okay?” He murmurs against your lips, an adoring look painted all over his face. 

“Have I ever said no though?” You say, which makes him chuckle. 

“True,” he replies, before taking a condom out of the box. You help him, by pulling his sweatpants off. He steps out of them, and you see his fully erected dick, screaming to be released from his boxers. 

“All fours,” his voice drops deeper, commanding you into the position he wants. 

You obey; shrugging your underwear off your knees, getting on your knees and elbows. You arch your back, to make your ass higher. You feel him dip on the couch behind you. 

He stays behind you, the noises of him preparing the only sound in the room. It feels like minutes have passed, and he still hasn't stick it in. “You done?” You ask, unable to mask the impatience in it. 

Drew replies with a hard slap to your ass, making you groan. He then asks, “did you buy this for someone else?”

“What?”

“Not only is it expired…but you got a smaller size,” he plants a kiss on your lower back. 

“What?” You say again, turning your head to look behind you. He holds the packaging in his hands; an M written on it. Oh. “That isn’t your size?”

He snickers, “you serious?” You must have just grabbed the first pack on the shelf, not checking anything. Drew delivers another rough slap to your asscheek when he doesn’t get a reply from you. It hurt, but in a good way. “Babe, you serious?”

“Dead serious,” you sarcastically reply, before laying your head onto the couch pillow in front of you. At this point, you’re pretty sure your pussy isn’t even wet anymore. 

But another hard slap to your other asscheek makes you jolt up, your brain betraying you by making you moan out. “Barely fits me.”

Can’t believe you’re attracted to this whiny man. “I’ll pay more attention next time,” you try to hide your annoyance, “just fuck me already.”

His hands grab the side of your hips, moving your ass to the right position. “Might slip off.”

What’s up with him right now? Is he seriously offended? You just bought the wrong size by accident, was it that big of a deal? “It won’t,” you assure him, “my fault, okay? Just put it in.”

“Fine. Fine, sorry,” he murmurs. 

You feel the tip of him against your hole, as he aligns his dick. And then, he sticks his entire dick inside of you. You moan out in pleasure, clenching around it. Fuck. He was right; you were tight, and you needed a few seconds to adjust to him. 

But Drew doesn’t let you; starting to slam his lower body into you, in a rather rough manner. 

Clearly, he’s not sorry for being whiny. 

“Shit,” you grip on the pillow harshly. “Slow the fuck down-“

He ignores your comment, continuing his pace. Drew rarely fucked you liked this, only if he’s putting his frustration or anger towards you. “Does this feel like an M?” You hear him grunt out, between thrusts. 

Who knew wrong sized and expired condoms could frustrate Drew this much?

You're forced to adjust to his size and pace, ignoring how each thrust that directly hits your core hurts a bit. “Fuck,” you breathe out, the pleasure inside of you building. His hands grip on your waist tightly; soft bruises might form later. 

His grunts and your soft moans fill the room, as well as loud, aggressive skin-slapping. 

He leaves sloppy kisses along your spine, causing your goosebumps to rise. You weren't going to lie; it felt good to be roughly handled by Drew.

You’re close; feeling the orgasm building inside of you. He knows it too; you clench around his dick. “Someone likes getting fucked roughly,” the tease in his voice is evident, “fucked like a slut, huh?”

Yeah. When Drew was mad or angry, he degrades you in bed. 

But you liked it, a moan you fail to repress escaping your lips. He slaps your ass again, a chuckle heard. “Cum then.”

He slams himself into you, his pace never slowing. The knot in your stomach eventually goes undone, your cum coating his dick. “Fuck..” He groans, as you relax yourself. He holds your ass up, continuing to thrust to help his own orgasm. 

He twitches inside of you; he’s close. 

Drew slows down after a few more, and you fell him pull out of you rather urgently. You completely fall on your stomach on the couch, your body giving up. 

But you force yourself to turn around, laying on your back. Drew sits back on the couch, his head leaned back as his cum fills the condom. He’s right; the M size condom covers 2/3 of his dick, probably not even half when he was erected. 

“I’m sorry,” you coo, a lazily smile on your lips. 

His expression softens; “Come here,” he takes the condom off, wrapping it and throwing it in the garbage can nearby. You force yourself up with the little energy left inside of you, snuggling yourself in Drew’s arms. You trace your fingertips along the lines of his lower stomach, laying your head on his chest. You and Drew’s legs tangled together, due to the small couch. 

The two of you stay silent, just enjoying the feeling of simply being in each other’s arms. 

This was casual, apparently. Cuddling after sex. Something people who have no attachments with each other usually do. 

Then, you suddenly joint up, causing Drew to look at you amusingly. “Wait, I actually do have a gift for you.”

“Really? You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, but the look on his face betrays him. He likes how you think of him when you’re away. You hum, getting off him and walking to your room. 

You come back with a small box, straddling yourself around his waist. You bite down on your lips in anticipation, hoping he likes it. He takes it; opening the box to reveal a men’s chained bracelet. 

It wasn’t from a luxurious brand, but you found it while shopping in your hometown, and thought it would look good on Drew.

He smiles ear-to-ear, “I love it.”

“No you don’t,” you chuckle, helping him put it on on his wrist. 

“I do; I love it, thank you,” he kisses your cheek, raising his hand and wrapping it around your nape. He pulls you down, and kisses you, almost in a loving way. Besides from seeing the smile Drew has whenever you get him something, the way he kisses you after also drives you insane. 

Casual, casual, casual.  

“Round two,” you murmur with a smirk on your lips, pulling away. He chuckles, before his eyes look down to your breasts. 

He bites down on his lip, obviously liking what he's seeing. Then, he shares the same look as you from earlier, remembering something. “Oh, your favorite bra, the red one?”

“...Yeah?” You cock your head to the side, wondering where this was going.

“It was in my dresser this entire time.”

“I knew it!”

“Found it the other day.”

“And… are you going to return it to me?”

“No.”

You slap his chest playfully, him sending you a cocky grin. “You got a bunch of other bras anyways.”

“Doesn’t compare to that one,” you pout, leaning down on his chest, hugging him. You lay your ear close to his heart, hearing the soft rhythm of it. 

It’s moments like this; that doesn’t feel casual at all. 

And maybe, it never will feel casual. At least for you. You weren’t the chill, flirtatious girl Drew knew, no, deep down, you were constantly doubting this situation-ship with him. Letting it drag so long, so long that it didn’t feel real anymore. 

Your stupid mind, constantly dreaming of the future with him. A shared apartment, shared furniture, shared everything. Him showing you off to his friends, admitting you’re someone special to him. 

You loser, he doesn’t even refer to you as a friend in front of others. Simply, a classmate. Fuck, you even visited his parents! Yet, he still denies. Everyone knows you two have something going on, except for Drew. Was he doing this on purpose? 

You don’t know; and honestly, too scared ask.

Because somehow, staying casual with him was better than not having him at all. 

The soft rhythm of his heartbeat helps you to slowly drift off into sleep, the thoughts disappearing. Hopefully, you don’t dream of Drew again, in a nice shared apartment, him showing you off to everyone, as his girlfriend. 

Was this dumb love? Maybe. Possibly. Most definitely. 

-------------------------------

word count: 3.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: hope you enjoyed reading this! and this isnt an official part two, but rather, another 'pov' into being in a situationship with kinda-toxic drew. for better context, you can read the actual oneshot here. i don't think there is going to be an official part two, bc i like this the way it is (sry!) and yes, inspired by chappell roan.

ngl...i dont like this writing as much....but i love the fluff parts! also, the smut scenes might feel wayyy too fast but swear they lasted longer than that (just got lazy to write🥲) anyways, thx for reading and pls ignore any mistakes <3

[cow-smells]

Worth your While | Opla! Sanji x reader

Request: I've read that you are in the need for some Sanji request or ideas so here's one for a fic :D

The crew gets into a fight ( it can be the Navy or anither pirate crew) and the reader gets badly hit and Sanji just loses his shit seeing the person that he cared for the most getting knocked out?? I just genuinely wanna see Sanji just go ape shit on people because of it XD and maybe hiw the others in the clue will react to seeing Sanji like that? @smolracoon25

Summary: You and Sanji have been playing the flirting game for way too long. When you get injured, Sanji shows a side of himself you had yet to see.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

A/n: I'm going purely off the live-action so pls have that in mind, also I'm just getting back in to the rhythm of writing after such a long time so sorry if this is poop/ooc/both, love ya :)

Read on AO3

“Don't you ever take a break?”

Zoro's voice coming from behind startled you, forcing you to break your longing gaze at Sanji who was fishing at the bow of the ship. “Huh?” came your wise response.

Zoro looked from you to Sanji. “You've been making moon eyes at him for months now. Don't you get tired? Or are you waiting for him to take his shift staring at you so that you can clock off?”

You felt heat rising to your cheeks. This was far from the first time crew members commented about you and Sanji's – whatever was going on between you two – but this was the first time Zoro called you out so blatantly.

When you didn't respond, Zoro went on. “I just came to tell you we should be docking soon. I'll leave you the pleasure of telling the cook.” with that, he left.

You closed the book on your lap. You really did have the intention of reading when you first head out to the deck, having some time to kill, but then... you noticed Sanji. At first you thought you'd go sit with him for a while, flirt and banter a little as you always do, but you found yourself absorbed in taking him in instead. He was different when he was alone. The way he looked so focused, so deep in thought when it was just him and the sea. Maybe even a little sad. So different from his usual sunny exterior that he put on when he was with people. Falling in to deep thoughts wondering what he might be thinking about – maybe about you? - you sat and stared, not reading as much as a word.

The book discarded, you felt a spring in your step as you made your way to the ship's chef.

The creaking floorboards alerted your arrival. Sanji turned to see who was creeping up on him, and when he saw you, he set his fishing rod aside as a wide smile grew on his lips, his dimples deepening and making your heart miss a beat. “There's my favourite girl. Come here, let me hear all about your day.” Sanji held his arms open, beckoning you to come sit on his lap.

The flirting was nothing new. When you first joined the Strawhats, Sanji was as flirty to you as he was to any other woman; he did not expect to meet his match in you. You were quick to play along, always one-upping him, dancing along the line that separated playfulness and seriousness, never quite picking a side.

The problem was, in reality, you had chosen a side long ago.

You would flirt and giggle and make him blush but never actually act upon anything. Neither would Sanji. He, however, took your playing along as though it was a battle to be won. Sanji would flirt, you'd reply with something raunchy, he would surprise you with something heartfelt. It was as though he knew exactly where to hit in order to get you a little closer to buckling, every time. As time went on he had become so devoted to your back and forth that you noticed he had gradually abandoned all other efforts flirting with other women, to focus entirely on you.

You had to remind yourself that this was a game to him. An instinct, almost. It hurt to think of your relationship that way, but you had to keep that thought at the forefront of your mind if you didn't want to fall even harder for him.

So you would continue to play along, even if that's all that you could have with him.

You chose not to indulge him completely – that was too dangerous for you – and so you opted to bend a knee over the armrest of his chair. Close, but no contact. “Come on, Sanji,” you bent your head in what felt like a bashful manner and said, “you know I spent all day thinking of you.”

You weren't sure if he was blushing or if that was just your wishful thinking. Composing himself, Sanji wrapped an arm around you to hold your waist, lightly tracing circles on your hip. “I beg of you, darling – next time, come find me instead of just thinking of me. I'll make it worth your while.”

You wanted to ask, how will you make it worth my while? Just to hear Sanji go in to detail of what you've been fantasizing about for months. But instead, you opted for a tamer response. “I came to tell you we're docking soon. Maybe I'll find you then and you could make it worth my while with a drink.”

Without missing a beat, Sanji took hold of your hand, bringing it to his lips. “There's nothing I'd enjoy more.” With that, he kissed your hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

Docking started out normal. Everyone knew what their usual chores were when you reached a town, restocking and fixing so that the ship would be in top condition for its next leg of the journey in your search for the One Piece. So while Sanji went in to town to restock on groceries (you didn't pay much attention to the others), you, Nami and Usopp stayed around the ship to fix up some of the damage it took when you last encountered a rival pirate ship. That also happened to be the reason it was just you three when the same rival pirates noticed your ship docked, ready to take their revenge.

The three of you had your individual talents, but you just weren't enough to hold up against an entire rival crew. They had attacked so suddenly and so fiercely – it didn't take long before you were on the sand, fighting to stay conscious. You lost that fight as you watched Usopp try his best to fight off three attackers at once.

You really thought that would be the end for you. You should have known better; it was Sanji's voice you heard as you regained consciousness, motivating you to open your eyes despite the pain that flooded your body.

The beach area all around you was covered with pirates who were taken down, just like you – only that they were your enemies. You first noticed Nami's orange hair – she seemed to be taking care of a bleeding Usopp, his condition worse than yours. Following Sanji's voice, you found him holding the last one of the rival crew by his shirt, throwing punches like you've never seen him before. It took you aback – thinking about it, you had never seen Sanji use his hands in combat. Too precious – need them for cooking, he'd once told you before adding, the only thing more precious to me is you. It had made you blush at the time before you had laughed him off. Now, you were questioning if it was a joke at all.

The man Sanji was holding wasn't putting up a fight – he was far too battered for that, but Sanji didn't stop. He was too far away for you to understand what he was saying to the guy, but focusing hard, you could just about make out half sentences – "to hit a woman" – "don't deserve to breath" – "finish you" – you searched for the strength to get up and stop him. You had never seen Sanji – your happy, cheerful Sanji – so angry, feral even. It scared you a little; but mostly, you knew Sanji would regret it if he were to kill a man who no longer posed a threat. So you grasped at the sand, forcing your aching bones to pick yourself up. But as you were regaining your balance, Sanji finally threw the man to the sand, a look of disgust painting his handsome features. "Finally made a date with her and you ruined it... You hurt her. You're lucky I don't kill you." The man groaned in pain.

In a sharp change, his features went from anger to concern as he finally left the man and turned to where he last saw you laying. His eyes were full of honest pain, until he saw you on your feet – then they read of hope. "Y/n!" Sanji called, rushing to you as he could see your struggle to stand upright. "You- I-" he scanned your body as he reached you, taking in all visible injuries. "Are you – are you okay? Can I help you?" he reached an arm around your waist, waiting for your approval before he held on to help you stay up, so afraid he might hurt you.

"Thanks." his arm around you really helped you to stay up. It was a practical measure, sure, any one of your crew mates would do the same – but when you look up and meet Sanji's eyes, you know that the tense feeling between you two wouldn't have been replicated with anyone else. "I mean it. You saved us. We'd... I'd be lost without you." at that, Sanji smiled that deep-dimpled smile of his at you, the playfulness not reaching his still-concerned eyes.

"Y/n," he started. "are you really flirting with me, at a time like this?"

It was strange how despite all your injuries, you felt less and less of the pain the longer you leaned in to Sanji, close enough to smell his fragrance. A half-smile reached your lips. You couldn't play this game any longer. "Did you really beat that guy up that bad because he ruined what should have been our... date?"

Sanji tensed, obviously not ready to have this conversation now. His gaze dropped momentarily before he wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you tightly to him. "I had a hundred reasons to kill him," Sanji said, and you felt disappointment bubbling through you until he continued, "but the most pressing reason is that he ruined our date."

Sanji took the opportunity to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear and you couldn't help but smile so big you were embarrassed by it. "I really wanted that drink with you, away from the ship and everyone else. Just us."

You recomposed yourself. You needed clarity. "I'm not playing anymore, Sanji."

Sanji chuckled. "Fancy that. I was never playing at all."

You must have forgotten how to breath at all when he leaned down, his hand finding a rest on your neck as his thumb caressed your cheek. Nearly a whisper, he asked – "Can I kiss you?"

You leaning in served as the consent he searched for. After months of pining over each other, wondering what it would be like – his lips met yours, in a mixture of softness and passion like you'd never felt before. Forgetting you were injured at all you sneaked your arms around his neck, pulling him in, almost afraid of letting this anticipated moment of passion go. Sanji was more than happy to pull closer, a hand on your lower back holding you impossibly close to him.

The moment did, however, find its end as you heard your Captain whoop and holler from afar. "Yeah! Way to go, Sanji! About damn time!"

Breaking the kiss, Sanji nodded at Luffy, his smile lines prominent as he looked the proudest you'd ever seen him.

The crew was more than happy to make a quick exit that night, preferring to not stay around until the rival crew regained their strength. You were helping Nami untie the ropes anchoring the ship to the dock when she said, "I really thought he was going to kill him earlier." you didn't know how to respond. "I've never seen Sanji like that." Nami managed to untie a knot, and Zoro began pulling the rope up on to the ship. "He's really got it bad for you."

Despite that questionable context, you couldn't help but smile. In a burst of honesty you confessed; "I hope so, because I've got it real bad for him, too."

On cue, the ship's chef leaned over the ships railing, looking down to you. "Y/n, my love!" he called, as though the rest of the crew wasn't surrounding the both of you. "I hope you're finished down there, because I've got a candlelit dinner waiting for you up here. And drinks. You know, to make it worth your while," he finished with a wink.

From behind Sanji you could hear Luffy ask, "What about our dinner? Just because you're lovers now doesn't mean we don't need to eat..."

Sanji sighed and turned away from you, probably to go protect your dinner before Luffy demolished it.

"Right then, let's go," Nami said as you finished untying the last rope. "While there's still food to eat."

And for the first time, you boarded your ship not to find the One Piece or the All Blue – you were just happy to be there, with the man you loved.

[blasphemousclaw]

why Divine Beast Dancing Lion has the best soundtrack in the entire game

When I watched the first DLC trailer 6 months ago, I was so focused on Messmer that I never gave the lion dancers a second thought. But in a shocking turn of events, Divine Beast Dancing Lion is now my favorite boss in the whole game. To me, what makes this fight truly exceptional is its soundtrack, so I want to go through the music and outline all the things that make it so great!

What makes the music stand out is that it feels SO different from the rest of the OST… the majority of the boss tracks have a pretty similar style and instrumentation, but Divine Beast stands out in my opinion because of how it emphasizes its rhythm and texture.

Conceptually, this boss fight is first and foremost a dance — you are fighting two Hornsent warriors operating a lion costume based on the traditional Chinese lion dance in an arena that’s actually a giant stage.

The Chinese lion dance is typically accompanied only by percussion (drums, gongs, and cymbals). So naturally, Divine Beast’s soundtrack has much more pronounced percussion in comparison to the rest of the soundtrack, featuring heavy drum beats and cymbals, plus shouts and chants from the choir. The music is in a steady 6/8, with 2 beats per measure divided into three pulses (think 1 2 3, 1 2 3) giving it a lilting, dancelike quality (this type of meter is often used in folk and traditional dances!). And, in the boss’s second phase, the dancing lion’s lightning, wind, and frost phases each have their own music and are timed to transition as the music transitions. The whole boss fight is programmed like a dance, so when you fight the boss it feels like you’re dancing with it too!

The choir has a range of vocalizations that goes beyond singing melodies and harmonies; as I touched on before, they’re also shouting and chanting. The shouts are used percussively and help accent the rhythm of the dance, and the low chanting also brings to mind a sort of religious ritual? Which is exactly what this boss fight is… in Hornsent culture, the lion dance is a ritual for invoking divinity:

“A charm depicting the crazed, cavorting dance of the divine beast conducted at the tower festival. Raises potency of storms. Divine beasts are messengers of the heavens, and their rage mirrors the tumult of the skies, of which storms are the pinnacle.” (Enraged Divine Beast talisman)

The lion dancers, or “sculpted keepers,” are those amongst the divine beast warriors (themselves the chosen amongst the tower’s horned warriors) who truly excelled at divine invocation, and were “granted the honor of the lion dance” (Divine Beast Warrior Armor). In the boss cutscene, the Hornsent Grandam calls upon the divine beast to possess the bodies of the sculpted keepers, and rise again to defend the tower… so the lion dance, performed by warriors skilled in divine invocation, is essentially a ritual for invoking the presence of the divine beast within the dancers in order to commune with the heavens.

The sculpted keepers, having invoked the rage of the divine beast, are able to channel the forces of the stormy skies — lightning, wind, and frost. The force of the storm is represented in the music by quick runs in the high woodwinds and strings that come and go like gusts of wind. The music almost never lets up or loses momentum; it goes at a powerful, furious pace until the end, embodying the divine beast’s fury.

But the Divine Beast that we fight has an extra layer of emotion that goes beyond divine ritual:

“When the Impaler's army assailed the tower, the ritual of the lion dance was turned toward martial ends—its divinity, its fury, its light-footed beauty.” (Remembrance of the Dancing Lion)

What was once a beautiful ritual dance conducted at the tower festival was forced to become a weapon of war in order to fight against their people’s annihilation at the hands of Messmer’s crusade. And even this was not enough…

The Dancing Lion that we fight was slain, lying in a pool of dried blood, when it is miraculously awoken again with a fervent prayer. This is the last lion dance that may ever take place, giving us a mere glimpse of this ruined city’s long-vanished splendor.

Listening to the soundtrack, there is not only pride in the music, but also an urgent, visceral, warlike rage, a multitude of voices joining in a desperate fight for their civilization’s very survival.

[yesihaveaobsession]

Doe Desires

Alastor x doe female reader

Summary: After joining the Hazbin team, Alastor has come a great liking to you a pretty precious little doe, yet you show no interest, but he's determined and decides to up his gentleman game.

A/N- I feel like bro doesn't know how to actually rizz or flirt with someone the real way, so he uses his magic and his piano skills :D This was a very old draft so sorry if it's bad ha-ha!

(I have no idea what to write ... ANYWAYS)

You had joined the Hazbin gang about a month ago, and well you had caught a certain someone's eyes and it was the Radio Demon. Why? Because you were part doe, you weren't just any ordinary doe you were pretty and so ever since you showed up to try and get redeemed the Radio Demon has tried to win your heart over, but you didn't seem to be interested but he wasn't going to give up he's going to up his game.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were sitting on the couch reading a book, Alastor appeared next to you and leaned over the back end of the couch. "Good evening."

"Evening Alastor." You replied as your little doe ears perked up due to the feeling of his breath on your ears, but your eyes didn't look up, your eyes remained on the pages in front of you. He had an idea what you were reading but he wanted you to say it.

"What are you reading Dear?" He leans in closer to you over your shoulder getting a closer look at the words on the pages that laid in your hands.

"Romeo and Juliet." You said as you licked your finger and turned the page. "Ah, the tragedy of two lovers who are fated to be denied their happiness. Are you enjoying it?"

Your eyes moved across the pages, and you replied not even listening to the deer demon who was inches away from you, invading your space. "Yeah." You said flatly. Alastor felt a little irritated that you weren't listening but that didn't stop him.

"I know two young lovers whose love has been denied them as well." He inched closer again, his lips inched closer to your cute little doe ears. You replied with a hum and his smile strained, this clearly wasn't working the way he wanted it to be.

"Two people who I am certain are very much in love but due to circumstances they are being kept apart." Alastor said with animated hand gestures.

"Uh huh."

Alastor just decided he was just going to take your book away to get your full attention and that's what he did. "If I may dear." You watched him cautiously. He placed it on the side table gently. The two of you then heard Charlie call your name and you locked eyes.

"May I keep your attention please?" He almost sounded desperate this time. "Charlie needs me." you said as your rose from your spot on the couch and gave him a politely nod and he just watched as you walked away his hands clutched his cane. Plan B.

Later that day after you helped Charlie with whatever you needed you heard a piano in the main lobby of the hotel. The song was your favorite getting closer to the sound you saw Alastor sitting there with a smile as his claws danced across the keys. Your ears twitched and your tail wagged slightly as you watched him. It was like a drug you found yourself walking closer to him, he played with such confidence.

"Care to join me Dear?" He asked and you smiled as you sat next to him on the bench watching as his claws continued to dance on the keys, he eventually looked over at you as he continued to play. Once he finished you clapped for him and giggled. Alastor smiled as he looked into your adorable doe like eyes.

"That was lovely Alastor!" You beamed and that made his heart skip a beat "Thank you dear." He leans in closer, as you smiled you yawned. "Well, it sure is late, I'm going to hit the hay." It was, which made sense because Alastor doesn't sleep, and you are surprise the piano didn't wake the others, but you honestly didn't get that far. After you rose from the bench, he stood up just as fast, his body was now inches away from you and hovered over you. "May I walk you to your room?" He asked as he offered you his arm and grabbed his cane. as You took his arm, and he led you down the halls of the hotel and to your bedroom door.

As you two were still stopped in front of the door he had let go of you and he smiled down at you. "Good night." He said, but bending down at the waist and taking your hand into his claws and kissed the back of it. You did notice that his hand lingered on your hand for a little long.

Alastor then turned on his heels and twirled his cane, you couldn't admit but find him cute, you knew what he was doing and liked playing his little game. "Alastor." you said, and he paused and turned back to you, you walked over to him and leaned up and got on your tippy toes and planted a kiss on his cheek in which it was very hard to not laugh when you saw his smile get bigger if that was possible and his red eyes lit up. "Goodnight." You replied with a smile and turned back towards your door with a pep in your step.

His heart fluttered, he couldn't help it, but he wanted to make your his. He was happy to have more time to try and make you his.

[roosterforme]

Sundays Are for the Boys | Hangman x Reader

Summary: Football Sundays are a sacred tradition amongst Jake and his friends, and he's quick to make sure you know that. But when the boys discover your favorite drink in the refrigerator, Jake makes an exception to his rule.

Warnings: Fluff, language, a tiny bit of smut, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Written for Pick Your Poison! Banner by @thedroneranger

Dating Jake came with one firm rule: Sundays were for watching football with the guys. 

"I mean it," he'd told you months ago when you first started dating him. "I host every week. They come over around ten when the games start, and they don't leave until after the last game ends. No wives. No girlfriends. Just a cooler filled with cheap beer. Sundays are for the boys."

At the time, you thought it was cute that he wanted to spend the day with his friends. "That's adorable," you told him, kissing his cheek. But by the time football season arrived, Jake was already in his Dallas Cowboys jersey, shaking you awake on Sunday morning at nine.

"It's almost game time, Baby. The guys will be here soon."

You looked up at him from his bed with a little smirk. "You're really into this, huh?" 

He kissed your forehead and started to pull you to your feet as you laughed. "It's a thing. I told you this months ago." He patted your bare butt as you looked around for your clothes from the night before. "It's week one, and the Cowboys play the Eagles in the early game. I love putting Payback in a bad mood."

You kissed him before you slipped your underwear on. "I know you do."

He was antsy, and you knew he wanted you to leave, but you also knew he didn't want to say it as he kissed you over and over again. "Baby, you gotta go," he finally whispered as you smiled against his lips. 

"I know, I know," you replied, still amused as you finished getting dressed and packed up your stuff. "Go Cowboys."

Each week, your relationship progressed, but this little routine stayed the same. Jake would inevitably wake you up by nine if you weren't already up. He would be wearing one of his many Dallas Cowboys jerseys. He would walk you out to your car and tell you how much he loved you before you left him to entertain his friends. 

But one Sunday, you woke him up with a blowjob on his birthday. And you took your time with it. Did you have a bit of an ulterior motive? Sure. But it didn't detract from the fact that you wanted him to enjoy himself, and you certainly made sure he did. He was coming hard at exactly 9:42 with his hand on the back of your head and his cock tapping your throat. 

"Oh, fuck!" he groaned. "Fuck!" 

You licked him clean and grinned up at him before kissing his hip and whispering, "I love you, birthday boy." Then you climbed out of bed, kissed his lips and started to get dressed. "It's almost ten. I'll head out."

You saw him waver a bit before he nodded. Then his doorbell rang, and you just knew it would be the guys starting to arrive. He kissed you deeply one more time before pulling on his blue and gray jersey and some gym shorts. "Take your time getting dressed. I'll go let them in."

"Sounds good," you replied. And twenty minutes later, after you'd fixed your hair and put on the tiniest bit of makeup, you waltzed out into the living room where there were now six guys spread out on Jake's sectional couch with an open cooler of beer on ice in the middle of the floor and bags of chips seemingly everywhere. 

It was kind of fascinating, getting to catch a glimpse of this carefully curated world that he worked so hard to keep private. Your plan was to quietly sneak out the front door, but you had to stifle your laughter as you heard Bradley tell your boyfriend, "Your Cowboys look like a bunch of fucking pussies this week."

"You're one to talk, dipshit," Jake replied without missing a beat. "The Steelers are 2 and 4." He went back to sipping his beer.

"Both of you are delusional," Coyote told them as he cracked open a can and shoved a fistful of chips into his mouth. 

You skirted around the outside of the room as you eyed them in their various colorful jerseys while you thought they were completely focused on the game. Then you heard Fanboy call your name. "You're leaving?" he asked, looking at you as he ate some beef jerky.

"Yeah," you said with a little laugh as Jake got up to peck you on the cheek. "You know, Sundays are for the boys and all that."

Just then, the Cowboys scored a touchdown, and Jake hoisted you up in the air as you screeched in surprise. Half of the guys groaned, and half of them cheered, but your boyfriend held you tight as he tossed aside his empty beer can and said, "You can't leave until they kick the extra point." So you just stayed there, your feet not even touching the ground as Jake held his breath, and then the Cowboys went up by one more point. Then Jake walked you to your car, nipping at your neck the entire way.

"Don't you have to get back inside?" you whispered as he filthy kissed you, pressing you against the driver's side door. 

"I will," he grunted. "Feel like you're my lucky charm right now."

He kissed away all your lip gloss and messed up your makeup, but when you finally drove away, you had a smile on your face.

------------------------

"What are these things?" Reuben called from the kitchen. Jake turned to see what he was holding up.

"High Noons," he replied before focusing back on the game. "My girl's obsessed with them. It's like a fancy hard seltzer."

"Can I try one?"

"Yeah," Jake told him, knowing he'd just replace them later for you. 

Javy was currently sitting on the floor, practically in tears as the Saints gave up another touchdown to the Dolphins. Mickey's loud cheering had everyone else laughing. "Dude, you'll lose your voice again like last week," Bradley told him as he accidentally spilled potato chips all over the floor before picking them up and eating them anyway. 

"It'll be worth it if the Saints lose!" Mickey cheered. 

"Hey, what's that?" Bradley asked Reuben as he chugged the High Noon can and belched. "Some sort of girly shit?"

"Yeah, it's fucking good."

A minute later, everyone was drinking them, including Jake. "This is delicious," Bob muttered.

"For real," Reuben agreed. "Your girl has good taste."

Bradley snorted as he opened another can. "Not in guys." He and Reuben started cracking up at Jake's expense while he rolled his eyes. 

Then Javy was on his hands and knees crawling toward the TV and shouting, "Get him! Get him! That's a fucking sack! Fuck you, Fanboy! Fuck you, dude!"

The room was in chaos as Javy ground the potato chip crumbs into the carpet. When Jake's phone vibrated, he saw it was a text from you and realized he kind of wished you were here right now.

I miss you. Are you having fun with the boys?

He smiled as he checked the time. The Cowboys game would be starting in less than an hour, and they always seemed to play better whenever you were in the room for those fleeting few minutes before you left him to his Sunday tradition. He tapped his fingers on his thigh and contemplated texting you back. 

"Hey, Jake, are there any more of these things?" Bob asked, holding up his empty High Noon can. It was a testament to how good they tasted that Bob was even drinking one in the first place. He absolutely hated beer.

"I don't think so," Jake muttered, almost to himself as he read your text again. "Let me check." He started his response to you and then finished it after he looked in his nearly empty fridge.

I miss you too, Baby. Where did you get those High Noons? The boys drank them all, and they loved them. I'm going to need to stock up.

When he looked up from his phone, Javy was on his back, kicking his feet in the air, because the Dolphins had scored another touchdown. "No!"

"Hey, Hangman, you're out of chips," Bradley complained, shaking the empty bag into his open mouth before frowning. 

Now Mickey was dancing around Javy on the floor as the final score of the game flashed across the bottom of the screen. His Dolphins had beat Javy's Saints, and Reuben was already changing the channel for the next game that was about to start. But you had texted back again.

Why is that so adorable? I'm just about on my way home from lunch with the girls. Want me to stop and get another case or two? Maybe some snacks? I can drop them off.

Jake grinned; even the idea of you stopping by for a few seconds made him smile. He texted you back letting you know that he loved that idea, and then he stepped over the chaos on his floor and dropped down next to Reuben. Just as the intro to the Cowboys and Steelers was starting up, Jake said, "My girl's stopping by with more of those drinks and some snacks, so please behave while she's here."

"We will," they all replied in unison, though he highly doubted that would actually be the case. 

Then the game started, and they were all distracted, because it was Jake's team against Bradley's team. "Your precious Cowgirls are going down," Bradley muttered, practically licking the inside of the chip bag.

Jake realized he was hungry too as he flipped him off, and he could hear Reuben's stomach growling. The Cowboys were looking terrible in the first quarter, and now Bradley was sitting on the edge of his seat as the Steelers were poised to score a touchdown.

But then, just when you walked in carrying some fresh High Noons and a platter of hot wings, the Steelers threw an interception, and the Cowboys ran it back all the way for a touchdown. "Fuck yes!" Jake shouted, practically ripping the food and drinks out of your hands to get to you. "Come here, Baby. Come sit on my lap."

"Seriously?" you asked, clearly surprised as Jake pulled you along with him while the other guys tore into the seltzers and chicken wings like they were wild animals. Well, everyone except for Bradley who was on his knees on the floor, staring at the TV in shock.

"Thank you for the food and the High Noons," Jake drawled, grinning against your neck as he held you close. "You're the best." 

"You're welcome," you replied, really getting into the game now. "Cowboys are already up?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Bradley groaned. And it just kept getting better from there. Jake got to have you snuggled up on the couch with him while he ate wings and drank seltzers all afternoon. 

When you tried to leave at halftime, the guys whined for you to stay, and Jake pulled you closer to him. "Baby, no. The Cowboys have done nothing but get touchdown after touchdown since you got here. I need you to stay."

You laughed and opened a High Noon for yourself with an amused look on your face. "Alright, Jake. Whatever you need."

-----------------------

When you woke up on Sunday with Jake kissing your neck and whispering, "Time to get up," you groaned. You were still exhausted from working all week, but you stretched and slowly got out of bed. "Where are you going?" he asked, reaching for you as you stood and looked at him.

"Home?"

He shook his head like he couldn't be more confused. "Why? Baby, the Cowboys play at ten. The boys will be here soon."

"Yeah...." you replied, reaching for your clothes. "That's why I'm leaving. Sundays are for the boys."

Now he was honest to god pouting. "But, I don't want you to leave. I love watching the games with you, and the guys keep my place cleaner when you're here. They actually belch less too. Really, overall, they are much less insufferable. And besides..." he whispered, grabbing your hand and pulling you back into bed. "I think you're my lucky charm."

"Really?" you asked as he pinned your hands above your head on the pillow. 

"Mmhmm," he hummed as he kissed you. "You make my team do better, and you make me happy. Stay."

You were melting at his touch. "Well, how could I say no?"

The following week, Jake was opening a seltzer for you, and when you looked around, all of the guys were drinking them. Mickey tapped his can to yours. "These are delicious. I feel so sophisticated. You're a genius."

The week after that, Javy ordered pizza only after discreetly asking what your favorite topping was. "The rest of them would eat cardboard with red sauce on top of it, but I want to make sure you get the kind you like."

The week after that, Reuben and Bob both jumped up to get you a new can when yours was empty, and Bradley begrudgingly said, "I still like you even though Jake fucking ruined you by turning you into a Cowboys fan."

You started staying later and later, and you noticed that Jake filled the cooler with fewer beers and more seltzers each week. And on the last Sunday of the regular season, the guys showed up with a sad looking, half crumpled up gift bag and handed it to you as you rearranged the pretty charcuterie board you'd been working on for them. 

"What's this?" you asked, peeking into the bag at some pink fabric.

"It's for you," Javy said. "You're one of the guys now." 

Jake grinned at you from the open refrigerator where he handed out High Noon cans to everyone. "You knew about this?" you asked him as you reached into the bag and pulled out a pink Dallas Cowboys jersey with your own name on the back. 

"Of course I knew about it, Baby. I had to tell them your size."

"Thank you," you whispered as you looked at it, tears filling your eyes and blurring your vision. "I love it." When you looked up at them, they raised their seltzer cans in a toast to you, and you ran to Jake's bedroom to get changed.

You had your own jersey color now amongst the rainbow of teams everyone rooted for, and Jake kept you close as the Cowboys played. The cooler of slowly melting ice offered up High Noons to you and the boys, and by the time it was getting dark outside, you were standing next to the TV with your hands in the air. 

"Ready?" you asked them a little loudly as you giggled, but you weren't the only one who was tipsy and silly. "Here we go!" You led them in a hideous, off-key rendition of I've been waiting all day for Sunday night. After weeks of watching football, everyone had all of the ridiculous lyrics memorized, and it ended in laughter as you curled up next to Jake on the couch.

"I love Sundays," he said, his arm slung around your shoulders. "And I love you, Baby."

You kissed his cheek and whispered, "Sundays are for seltzer drinkers."

------------------------------

You slowly infiltrated, and now Sundays are yours. Thanks @thedroneranger for making pretty mood boards like this one and letting us write about them. And thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

Don't forget to read the second part! This Sunday Is for My Girl!

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[goldfades]

✮ 𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩, 𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | jack hughes

♡ ─ word count | 3.8k

♡ ─ summary | when you and jack had parted ways, somehow you both knew you'd meet again somehow.

♡ ─ warnings | second chance romance!! slight angst (nothing too crazy), fluffy as fuck!!! jack being a cutie patootie, bsf x luke hughes cus why not???? mention of drinking/bars but that should be it.

♡ ─ taglist | | @dancerbailey3 @valluvsu @daisysnhl @dasiysthings @iminlovewithtz11 @literatureluster @lvrzegras @lxvleyzoe @bowen-power @ru-kru @jackhughesily @hearts-for-luke

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay, so this started off as sweeter than fiction fic but slowly turned into an invisible string fic, but its okay. they both slay and lowkey work well together!!

No matter how hard you tried to forget Jack, you never could.

The moment you both laid eyes on each other, each of you knew it was game over for everyone else. Everyone else was merely everybody else, and the other was just the one. From the first hello to the last goodbye, there was a connection neither of you could fathom.

Jack was more than just your first love or your first everything, he soon became the key to solving all your problems and the keeper of all your secrets. He was the funniest and kindest person you knew, no matter how long you'd been together. That never changed, even after you two parted ways.

It's been almost three years since you seperated but you can still how he made you feel, and all his favorite things: how he liked his coffee, what side of the bed he slept, his favorite soda and how to cheer him up. However, if someone had asked you where he was now, you couldn't tell them.

Well, not necessarily. You knew he plays some NHL team and he was doing what he's always loved, that's all you knew for sure. Some things never change, you guess.

Sometimes, you would wonder if he ever thought of you. Were you just a passing thought or a lasting memory? Did he remember everything or did he forget it? Those questions kept you up at night. But, at the end of the day, you realized that you were happy for him because he was out there, pursuing his dreams. Even if you weren't in those stands, wearing his jersey cheering him on, like he'd always promised.

──

"A hockey game?" You repeated, staring at your best friend Brie. She shook her head, a big smile on her face.

"My friend got tickets a few months ago but he got covid, so he gave them to me. And I knew you were a fan of hockey, so why not?" Brie explained as she leaned back into the couch.

"Not really-"

"Well you grew uo in Ontario so that makes you a hockey fan by association. You're going, end of discussion." Brie sighed exasperatedly, feigning annoyance as a smile enveloped your face. You had no choice now, you had to go.

You couldn't help but chuckle at Brie's determination. She always had a way of roping you into things, and this time was no exception. Despite your initial reluctance, the prospect of attending a hockey game stirred a sense of excitement within you.

A few days later, you found yourself growing curious about the experience. Memories of watching hockey matches with your family in Ontario flooded back, reminding you of the excitement that accompanied each game. One memory stuck out to you, you couldn't remember much but you do remember the warm feeling of his jacket and how your heart was beating- No, no. Focus on the now, Y/N. You reminded yourself as you forced yourself out of your head.

You navigate your way through the big arena and you both finally found your seats, settling in as the game was beginning. Settling into your seat, you let yourself soak in the atmosphere, the sights and sounds of the arena becoming a backdrop to your thoughts and emotions.

The players take to the ice and the game begins, you find yourself swept up in the thrill of the moment. The cheers of the crowd fill the air, each goal and save met with loud applause and excitement. You missed this.

"Y/N, look! That's the one I was telling you about, the one who followed me. Isn't he cute?" Brie spoke with a warm blush on her face, pointing out a number 43. You nodded, watching him glide.

He looked slightly familiar but you couldn't place it. "Wait... Is that why we're here, Brie?"

"What? No. What do you mean? What?" Brie's blush spread to her entire face as she let out a giggle, a telltale sign of her lying. You shook your head with a laugh, of course there was an ulterior motive to coming here.

She let out a sigh and then continued, "Okay fine. He invited me to the game, with free tickets. You wouldn't say no either, alright?"

"Yeah, free tickets are free tickets." You shrugged with another laugh. "Is he cute?"

"You'll see, he told me to come to the bar after the game."

"And I have to come?" You sighed, leading back into the uncomfortable seat of the stands.

"Don't sound too excited, Y/N." She teased as you rolled your eyes playfully. "He has a cute brother and I heard the captain is hot, so... you won't be third wheeling entirely."

"Okay, fine. But what if they aren't cute?"

"This is hockey, babe, there is a very low chance of that happening." Brie said with a big grin as you laughed. That was true, they all happened to be very cute.

With each passing minute, the anticipation grew, fueled by the idea of meeting Brie's acquaintance and his friends. Despite your initial hesitation, there was an undeniable curiosity about what the night held in store.

As the final buzzer sounded and the game drew to a close with another win for the Devils, you found yourself caught between anxious anticipation and excitement. The promise of a post-game gathering lingered in the air, pulling you into its orbit with a magnetic force you couldn't resist.

Brie quickly took you out of your trance, grabbing your hand to rush to the bar. As you entered the busy bar, the atmosphere was electric, pulsating with the excitement of post-game celebration. The air was thick with the scent of beer and sweat as you nervously walked beside Brie to find her friend.

She pulled your sleeve and pointed to a curly-head in the distance before whispering, "That's him."

"Whoa, he's tall."

"I know." She whispered back dreamily as she stared before walking towards him, a confident smile on her face whilst you followed her.

He turned around and your eyes widened. He was familiar, you knew exactly who he was. Luke Hughes, Jack's little brother. Instant regret hit you as you hoped and prayed he wouldn't remember you.

Thankfully, he looked right at Brie with a huge grin. "Oh, hey. Glad you could make it."

He leaned in for a hug and your eyebrows rose, they were already on hugging terms? As they pulled apart, his gaze moved to you and his features changed into a knowing one. You plastered on the best smile you could and silently prayed he didn't remember you.

"Y/N?"

Shit.

But that wasn't Luke's voice, you turned your head to the side to see him. "Jack?"

As the name escaped his lips, your heart skipped a beat, the world around you seeming to slow to a crawl. Time seemed to stand still as you locked eyes with him, the familiarity of his gaze stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. His blue eyes boring into yours, your heart racing.

In that moment, the weight of the past crashed over you like a tidal wave, memories flooding back with clarity. The sound of his smooth voice, the warmth of his sweet gaze—it was as if no time had passed at all, as if you were transported back to a time when the world was simpler, when your love felt like an unbreakable bond.

For a moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes to only the two of you. Memories of your shared past flooded back, the laughter, the tears, the love that had once bound you together, all laid bare in the space between you.

Jack's expression softened, a flicker of recognition dancing in his eyes as he took in your features. It was as if time itself had stood still, freezing this moment in eternity, the echoes of your past reverberating through the air like a haunting melody.

"Jack, buddy, you're about to spill the drinks." Luke's voice drew both of you out of your trance and back into the present moment and out of your head.

"Yeah, um, sorry. Here." Jack nodded to his brother and handed him the beer as you stared back at him, a troubled expression plastered on your face.

As Jack handed the beer to Luke, the brief interlude allowed a moment of reflection from the intensity of the small exchange. The tension lingered between you, a reminder of the emotions simmering under the surface.

You struggled to find the words to break the silence, the weight of your past weighing heavy on your heart. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into eternity, the air thick with anticipation and uncertainty.

Finally, Jack turned back to you, his gaze searching, as if looking for answers to questions left unasked. The troubled expression on your face mirrored the emotions swirling in you, a storm of conflicting feelings that threatened to engulf you both.

"I... It's been a while," Jack began, his voice hesitant, the words hanging in the air between you like a delicate thread.

"Yeah, it has," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. The memories of your shared past lingered like a ghost, haunting the space between you with their silent presence.

Luke looked a Brie with a knowing look, taking her hand warmly and glancing between you and Jack. "I think me and Brie are gonna get some drinks, we'll be right back."

Before anyone could reject, Luke pulled away your best friend to the bar and she turned around with a sympathetic smile and a shrug. You cursed the younger Hughes as you sighed. Now you have to face Jack alone, without the comfort of your best friend.

You and Jack once again found each other's gaze, staring into each other's eyes with warmth and recognition. His eyes were still as blue as you left them but he looked more mature, facial hair growing on his chin and his hair a little longer but you thought it suited him. But he still has the boyish charm to him, the thing that made you fall for him in the first place. His mouth curved up into a small smile as he watched you observe him.

"How've you been?" His voice echoed and that was another that hadn't changed. You had forgotten his voice on the course of the couple years of separation, you forgot how sweet and smooth it was.

"I've been..." You trailed off, not knowing what to exactly. "I've been good. You?" You settled for a simple answer, not knowing exactly where you stood yet.

"Can't complain." He responded with a shrug, take a sip of his beer. Silence once again filled the space between you as you gazed at each other.

In the absence of words, your gaze held a conversation of its own. The warmth and recognition in Jack's eyes mirrored the emotions swirling within you. For a moment, it was like you were seeing him for the first time again—his features bathed in the soft glow of recognition, his smile warm in the rest of world's darkness. The years had etched lines of experience onto his face, sculpting the contours of his features into something familiar yet different.

And yet, beneath the surface, there remained a sense of familiarity—a connection that defied the time itself and the hurts of the past. It was a reminder of the depth of your shared history, the moments that had shaped you into the people you had become.

You couldn't help but wonder what thoughts raced through his mind, what memories stirred beneath the surface. Did he too feel the weight of the past, the pull of unfinished stories waiting to be told?

"You grew your hair out." He stated softly as he examined your new look. "It looks good."

"Looks like you did, too." You smiled softly and he let out a warm laugh, and it was infectious. The memories, rushed back into your mind at the happy sound and your stomach did a flip. Another thing that hadn't changed, the sweet sound of his laugh.

"Yeah, that's what hockey does to a guy." He explained, his eyes glowing beneath the warm light of bar.

You chuckled, a mixture of emotions swirling within you. "Guess it comes with the territory. You always did love the game."

Jack's gaze softened, a flicker of sentimentality in his eyes. "Yeah, some things just never change, I guess. Hockey's been a constant in my life and I don't think I'll ever stop."

The shared memories of watching games together, the thrill of victories, and the hurt of defeats lingered in the air, connecting you both in a shared history that time hadn't erased.

"I remember how you used to explain the rules to me, as if I was clueless," you teased, a playful glint in your eye.

Jack laughed, the sound a symphony of familiarity. "Hey, but you caught on quick. Besides, it was a good excuse to spend time together."

The mention of spending time together cast a gentle shadow over the present moment, a reminder of the shared past that had once been the foundation of your connection. The complexities of life had woven a tapestry of experiences, leading you both on separate journeys, yet the threads of your history remained intertwined.

"But hey, the hair suits you," you replied, your voice soft with sincerity. Despite the years that had passed, there was a sense of ease in the way you spoke to each other, as if no time had elapsed at all.

Before he could respond, you were suddenly pushed from the back and flew right into the arms. You were shocked and turned around to see a drunk man stumbling. Suddenly, Jack's arm twisted around your shoulder, a protective stance.

"Shit, sorry." He slurred before walking away into the crowd.

The sudden proximity between you sent a jolt of awareness coursing through your veins, the closeness igniting a spark of familiarity that lingered in the air like electricity.

As the chaos of the moment subsided, the realization of how close you two had been struck you with a sudden clarity, leaving your cheeks warm and your heart racing. You both stared into each other's eyes before Jack spoke softly. "Let's go somewhere quieter, yeah?"

With a nod of agreement, you instinctively reached for his hand, fingers intertwining in a silent pact as he led you through the crowd and out into the cool night air. The sounds of the bar faded into the distance, replaced by the soft murmur of the night.

He let go your hand, the cool night air hit the warm area that his hand once was. He gazed out into the night as you looked to the side of his face, a warm feeling filling your body in spite of it being cold outside.

"So, you play on the same team as Luke?" You spoke, breaking the silence between you two.

His lips curved into a smile as he nodded, "Yeah, isn't that funny? We always talked about playing together again but it's cool that we can actually do that now."

You couldn't help but marvel at the twist of fate that brought them together again. The bond between Jack and Luke was woven with shared memories and childhood dreams, all coming true.

"It's amazing how things come full circle," you remarked, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Yeah and Quinn's finally got the captaincy, it's perfect." Jack continued. He looked happy and content with the way things were turning out with his career and his family, it made you happy seeing him happy. "What about you? Anything exciting?" He turned his attention to you, his blue eyes gazing into yours.

You smiled. "Not as much as you, definitely. But I'm about to graduate and get an apartment, all by myself up in New York. Found the perfect one yesterday and I'm driving up there to see it."

"Just like you always wanted, huh?" Jack's smile grew at that. He was comforted knowing that you hadn't changed too much and you were still same old you, despite how many years that had passed.

"Yeah, it's right in the middle of the city, with windows everywhere so I can watch the city move."

Like you had always wanted, Jack thought in his mind with a big smile. "So we are both chasing our dreams, then?"

"Yeah, something like that." You laughed and he joined along. The warmth of his laughter filled your lungs and you felt like you were out of breath just by laughing along with him. It was perfect. The laughter had died down and you both still were locked in gaze.

For a moment, it was as if the world had faded away, leaving only the two of you suspended in the quiet intimacy of the night. The warmth of Jack's presence enveloped you like a comforting embrace, grounding you in the present moment amidst the chaos of the world.

His smile slowly dropped as he kept looking into your eyes. "Why'd we ever break up?"

The bluntness of the question had taken you aback. And you started thinking back to why you broke up. As you searched for an answer, the weight of the past pressed down upon you, a heavy burden that threatened to consume you whole. The reasons for your breakup lingered on the edges of your consciousness, fragments of half-forgotten truths waiting to be unearthed.

You were moving away to college and he was getting into the NHL, the only logical way to go about this about was to break up. Long distance wouldn't have worked and plus, you were both growing up and getting into new worlds, you didn't want him worrying about you while he was out there, pursuing his dreams.

But deep down, you knew that the choices you had made had led you to where you were now, standing face to face with the echoes of your past and the possibilities of the future. The memory of your break-up was clear in your mind, with all the anger and resentment both of you had in that one moment. But something you had said suddenly stuck out to you, "If we are meant to be, we will."

And we did. You thought to yourself as you stared into Jack's eyes. "We were both growing up and moving away, and I-I guess... I didn't wanna burden you."

Jack's expression softened. "Burden me?"

Silence filled the air once again but this time, you felt embarrassed. How could that have led to the break-up? It seems so small but it felt so big before, like it was the end of the world.

"Yeah," you admitted, your gaze dropping for a moment before meeting Jack's eyes again. "I was worried about holding you back, about becoming a distraction when you had this incredible opportunity in front of you. I thought breaking up was the right thing to do, to give you the freedom to chase your dreams without any restraints."

Jack's expression softened, his eyes reflecting understanding. "Y/N, you could never be a burden to me," he replied softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "We were in it together, remember?"

"I'm sorry, Jack," you whispered, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. "I... I wish things had been different."

He immediately shook his head and slowly took your hand. "Don't apologize. If things had been different you don't know how that would've worked out, but right now, everything that led us here is perfect." He said sternly as you nodded slowly.

With a nod of agreement, you allowed his words to seep into the depths of your heart, a gentle reminder that the journey you had embarked upon together with twists and turns but ultimately, it had led you to this moment and that was enough.

"I believe that too," you whispered, your voice tinged with hope and conviction. "Every step we took, every choice we made, brought us here, to this moment."

Jack's gaze softened, his eyes reflecting a depth of emotion that mirrored your own. "We found each other again for a reason, don't you think?"

You nodded softly as you gazed back at him, warmth filling your whole body. Before you could answer, you felt a buzz in your pocket and sighed. You were ripped away from this perfect moment and back to reality. You took your phone out and saw the caller ID: "Brie <3"

You answered it, "Hey, Brie."

"Hey, so where are you? I just remembered I have a 9am lecture tomorrow."

You sighed before shaking your head. Brie and her bad memory, "I'm, uh, outside."

"Great, I'll meet you at the car. We have a lot to debrief tonight."

"Oh yeah, a whole lot." You laughed as you stared back at Jack's face with a warm smile. "'Kay, love you."

"Love you."

She hung up and you were met with Jack's gaze, pulled back into the moment. Again, there was silence before you spoke up. "Well, I gotta go."

"I figured." Jack spoke as a smile curved his mouth.

"I'll... see you, then?" Your voice came out in a quiet whisper as he nodded.

You turned around and started walking before you stopped. You couldn't leave without anything, right? It wouldn't be right. You turned around swiftly with a warm smile. "Umm... when can I see you?"

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a flicker of excitement dancing in their depths. For a moment, he seemed taken aback by your sudden boldness, but a smile quickly spread across his face, warming the space between you.

Jack's eyes lit up at your question, a genuine smile playing on his lips. "How about tomorrow? We could grab coffee or something, catch up properly."

Your heart skipped a beat at his suggestion, the prospect of spending more time with him filling you with a sense of anticipation and joy. The thought of reconnecting with Jack, of rediscovering the depths of your bond, ignited a spark of hope within your soul.

"That sounds perfect," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

As you exchanged details and finalized the plans, the air buzzed with anticipation. The promise of tomorrow held the potential for new beginnings, a chance to explore the rekindled connection between you and Jack.

As you parted ways, each step carrying you closer to the promise of tomorrow, you couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude for the chance to rewrite the narrative of your story, to carve out a future filled with forgiveness and the prospect unfulfilled promises you once made, coming true.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[paigesbasketball]

A December to Remember

Paige x Reader Warnings: smut, cursing (i think) notes: I saw something similar to this months ago and though i would do a Christmas version.. Inspiration from: iceinmyveins on a03!

The holiday season was always a magical time of year. Snow fell softly, dusting the world in white, and the air was crisp with the chill of winter. But for you, this December felt especially full of surprises—and a little mischievous fun. Your girlfriend, Paige, had been teasing you with a mysterious “secret admirer” gift exchange that started on December 1st, and by now, you were fully caught up in the game.

It all began innocently enough: A small, beautifully wrapped gift appeared on your doorstep. You opened it to reveal a soft red scarf, the perfect shade to brighten up a cold winter day. A note attached simply said, “To make your days warmer.” You smiled, knowing that Paige had a playful side, and it felt just like something she’d do. But as the days went on, the gifts became more personal and more thoughtful. The 3rd brought a cozy blanket. On the 5th, a cute snow globe. On the 7th, a pair of fluffy socks that matched your style. Each one had a little note, each one a flirtatious tease.

By the time you hit December 12th, you were certain that Paige was behind it all. Her playful hints, the way the gifts reflected your tastes—there was no way it wasn’t her. You were thrilled and amused by it all. The mystery was exciting. But when you received another gift on the 14th—this one, a hand-knitted sweater—you knew Paige was stepping up her game.

But December 20th, the day before your team’s away game, brought even more confusion. You were in your hotel room with the rest of the team, preparing for the upcoming game when another gift arrived at your doorstep. You opened it quickly, expecting another thoughtful piece, and this time you found set of lingerie, a soft lavender. It wasn’t from Paige—was it? You still didn’t know, but now you were getting frustrated by the mystery. Had the gifts taken a wrong turn somewhere?

You decided it was time to talk to Paige about it, but there was no opportunity. The team was leaving for a series of games, and you were all holed up in a hotel for a few days. With a little time to kill before the evening’s game, you tried to ignore the strange gifts piling up, but your mind kept drifting back to them, trying to connect the dots.

The day of the game arrived, and the mystery surrounding the lingerie gift only deepened. You could feel your curiosity building. But before you could bring it up, you got another surprise. Paige wasn’t there when you returned to your room after the game, and there, on your bed, was a package. Another beautifully wrapped gift. You opened it to find a another set of lingerie. This one, a deep wine-red, more elaborate than the others, with delicate lace details. Your stomach did a flip.

You froze for a second before reading the attached note: “For when you’re ready. Merry Christmas.” It was signed with a small heart, the handwriting that didnt look fully like Paige’s. Your heart skipped a beat. The note sent a clear message—this was something more intimate, something that meant more than just a playful joke.

As you sat there holding the gift, the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, but confusion clouded your mind. Was this part of a larger surprise? Or was it a mistake in the grand plan? You were starting to feel overwhelmed and unsure of how to approach Paige with this gift.

“Hey, I got another gift from my secret admirer,” you said lightly, trying to gauge her reaction. Playing a cat and mouse game with her had to be one of the best aspects of your relationship

Paige's eyes narrowed almost immediately, a slight flicker of confusion crossing her face. She didnt sent you your gift today…atleast not yet…“Another one? What did they send this time?” Her voice was tight, and you could tell she wasn’t as playful as usual.

You hesitated for a moment before showing her the lingerie. “This came today… from my secret admirer.” You grinned, waiting for her reaction. But instead of a teasing smile, Paige’s face turned red with frustration.

“What the hell is this?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly. “I did not send this. Who the fuck sent you this? She paced in frustration, her hand rubbing her temples. 

You blinked, a little stunned by her outburst. “Wait, what do you mean? You didn’t send it?”

“No!” she snapped. “I mean, i sent the others and I had a plan, and it wasn’t supposed to go like this. This wasn’t my idea! I don’t even want to know who did this, but clearly, someone is messing with me, and I’m pissed.”

You were taken aback by how upset she was. You had expected teasing and maybe some playful jealousy, but not this level of frustration. “Okay, so you didn’t do it. Who do you think it is?”

Paige took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. “I don’t know. Maybe the team? They’ve been way too interested in my secret admirer game. I’ll bet they’re behind this.”

You frowned. “So, the lingerie…?”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Paige muttered, her face flushed with both anger and embarrassment. “I had something sweet planned for you, not… this mess.” She glanced over at the lingerie, then back at you. “But now? I’ll make them pay. I’ll find out who did this, and when I do, they’re going to regret it.”

You sat there, still processing the sudden change in tone. “What are you going to do?” you asked, half-amused, half-nervous.

Paige smirked, her anger quickly turning to a devious grin. “Oh, I’m not going to let them off easy. I’ll make them pay for messing with my plans.”

The next day, you were all gathered at the hotel, preparing for the evening game, when Paige finally confronted the team. They were lounging in the lobby, clearly relaxed from their day off, when she stormed up to them, her eyes narrowed with determination.

“Alright, which one of you idiots thought it’d be funny to send my girlfriend lingerie?” Paige demanded, crossing her arms over her chest.

The team members exchanged confused glances, trying to figure out if she was joking or genuinely angry. One of them, kk , raised her hand sheepishly. “Yeah, uh, sorry. We thought it would be funny.”

Paige’s eyes darkened. “Oh, it was funny, huh?” She smiled, but it wasn’t a nice smile. “Well, i can do something funny too.”

The team members laughed nervously, clearly unsure of what was coming. “What do you mean?”

Paige’s grin only widened. “You’ll see.”

Later that night, after the game had ended and everyone was winding down, Paige led you into her room. “I got my payback,” she said, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. “And you won’t believe how. Let’s just say, they won’t forget this for a while.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “How so?”

Paige walked over to you, her eyes full of affection and something darker—playful and a little wicked. “Let’s just say they’ll be hearing of you tonight,” she whispered, before pulling you close and kissing you deeply.

She moved down to kissing your neck and sheds you of your clothes leaving you bare in front of her.. After she asks you to change into the lingerie that the team has so graciously given you. 

Once you emerge from the bathroom she stares at you with a mix of hunger and a wicked as a small smile forms on her mouth. “You’ll help me with my prank won’t you honey” she says forming hickies on your neck, and rubbing the soft flesh of your breasts through the lace making my npples peak. “ I- umm do you think the team-” I was cut off with my own gasp as paige starts to rub the little nub of my clit. Whimpers fill the room as I try to be quiet and considerate to the team members in the hotel room next door. Little did I know thats what paige wanted. 

She takes the hand that clamps over my mouth and the one that bunches her shirt and holds them in one hand of her own proving how bigger she is than me. My knees buckle as she shoves two fingers into my heat moving back and forth a couple time before she picks me up by the back of my thighs and throws me on the bed.

The next few hours passed in a blur of lovemaking and teasing moments between you and Paige. It was a Christmas to remember. When the team finally found out what Paige had done to get her revenge, they all knew better than to ever mess with her again. But it was clear: Paige had won this round—and she had made sure to end it with, a playful victory, and a promise that the best gifts were yet to come.

I do not usually write smut so i apologize for this....

-Caty Writes

[kaisaerinlover]

dark content

tw: abuse

laying in bed with kaiser after an extra rough day, a day where he was so much worse than usual. a day where your whole body is left aching in pain. kaiser doesn’t offer you any help or care other than picking you up where you lay limp on the floor to toss you onto the bed so he can feel your warmth next to him.

you’re laid on the pillow trying your hardest not to move, every time you move it feels like a thousand bricks are being tossed at you nonstop. feels like hammers are beating at you. you’re so broken right now it hurts. but that’s what you get for dating someone like kaiser; you shouldn’t play angel with a guy like him. shouldn’t play the “i can fix him” game with someone who is more than just sad inside. someone who’s pain and hurt from the precious years of childhood manifested into a terrifying amalgamation of twisted morals and sick behaviour. you shouldn’t play those types of games with a man like kaiser, because he’s not like anyone you will meet or have ever met in your life. any therapist would truly have a field day with this boy because the amount of times he would have to be in their office is more than infinite, if it’s even possible. it’s impossible, but not for him. fitting for him. he could get better, but his mindset doesn’t allow this. he won’t change it anytime soon, that’s why you’re laid in complete and utter agony trying to bite back the tears that threaten to fall from your eyes. even breathing is painful.

he’s next to you, looking like nothing even happened at all. he looks beautiful, hair tied up into a neat little bun at the back, glasses on, face illuminated by the awfully expensive antique lamp you insisted he buy the other month. he’s reading something, your vision is too blurry to see what he’s reading. the sound of him flipping the pages every so often is soothing, you could almost forget about the burning pain you have all over your body. almost forget how he looked as he punched you over and over; screamed at you again. how terrifying it is to be beneath him as he gets so violent with you.

it’s not fair, it’s really not. it’s not fair how he treats you when you are so kind to him; so gentle. sometimes he treats you with the same sweetness you taught him, but it’s not common. but you are different; you would never react back to him with the same brutality his actions teach you. you are a good person, your heart is big and your compassion swells for him even after he treats you like this. you couldn’t explain why even if you wanted to, human nature of this degree is wordless, unexplainable and weird. it’s illogical, but that’s one of the most beautiful things about humans.

that’s kaiser’s opinion anyway, he has you wrapped around his pinky finger. he can hear your shaky breathing next to him; he smirks to himself.

you look at him when you hear him fold the corner of the page of his book so he can find it easier later, and place his book down on the bedside table. you’re waiting for him to turn off the lamp, but he doesn’t yet. your boyfriend clears his throat and looks forwards into the rest of the very luxurious bedroom you both share. “hey, engel” he doesn’t even bother looking at you as he talks. he obviously lacks respect for you. and you acknowledged this long ago. and you stay. you stay with him. you wait silently for him to continue. silence is the best answer after a day like this - he’s impossible to predict. whatever is inside of him follows no logical pattern, if you say the wrong thing you’ll anger him more. “do you know why i hurt humans?” he still isn’t looking at you. you don’t talk still, you don’t bother looking at him anymore. the bruise on your neck that’s darkening even now, hours after the beating, is hurting too much. you stare at the ceiling as you listen to him talk.

he’s smirking as he talks, looking out into the bedroom with his hands behind his head. he carries on again, his voice never lacks confidence “it makes me feel alive.” you never quite understood that about him, you’re still quiet, listening to him, but you extend your arm anyway and lay it awkwardly on his chest despite the pain that shoot’s up the entirety of your arm from doing so. he acknowledges your smaller hand messily splayed across his chest by bringing his own bigger hand to squeeze it tightly, painfully even. he bent your fingers back today a lot, they still ache.

he doesn’t look you in the eye still as he talks. and you don’t want to look him in the eye either. you just both stare into the dimly lit surroundings as you maintain some semblance of skin to skin contact. “i’ve hurt a lot of humans before” he laughs a little. you gasp a bit and jump as he squeezes your hand painfully tight, obviously intending to hurt you. “but hurting you makes me feel the most alive.” your chest is hurting and your hand is crushed so immensely between his much bigger one. you heard the sickening crack of your fingers. you sort of wish he wouldn’t let go, you don’t want to see the damage. purple is a pretty colour, but not when it’s on your fragile skin.

kaiser squeezes hard, he can’t feel alive in any other way than this. than checking his heart rate in a morning. than looking in the mirror and seeing himself standing there, seeing himself in the flesh and knowing he’s alive. he loosens his grip on your hand though and turns to lay on his side to face you. he looks pretty like this, you’re looking at him as well; head propped on his free hand, the other reaching out to caress your battered cheek. he likes seeing what he did to you earlier, likes when he can assess the damage himself. it makes him feel so alive. and even though you won’t admit it his battery makes you feel equally as alive as he does. “you know, prinzessin, i’ve never been hurt before though.” blatant lie, he knows it is, you’ll believe it. he chooses to push his childhood far far behind him. he doesn’t associate with that time of his life, any memory of it that replays will only be viewed in a third person point of view. he doesn’t know that weak child anymore. “wanna know why?” and you give him a response for the first time. you nod and look up at him with your big glassy eyes. you’re like a broken toy, but you know that someone like kaiser can appreciate a broken toy. poor kids who grow up with nothing will accept anything. wealthless kids, abused kids who grow up and enter society as sickeningly ill in the head adults will stop accepting anything, they’ll only accept the familiar brokenness they know best. and if it’s not there in the person they want, they’ll make it themselves.

“it’s because i’m not human.” kaiser doesn’t see himself as human, the opposite actually. having a superiority complex is fun, but it’s less fun when it’s to cover up the hideous truth beneath. he’s caressing your beaten face so tenderly right now, as you deserve. for once he’s treating you kindly. he’s subhuman. but he’s also something better, he’s above everyone else. his intellect is a mean feat in any terms of human endeavour. his talent is unrivalled. he can do things no one else can. michael kaiser can make the impossible into a reality. michael kaiser can give hope to those who thought they could never dream again. he looks at the tattoo on his hand instead of your eyes, the tattooed hand that’s caressing your face; the face he’s grown to both love and despise over the years. the face he wants to destroy beneath his rough fists. the face he wants to hold gently and leave a kiss on. his tattoo is a reminder he’s above everyone else, but also that he’s a piece of shit. he has narcissistic tendencies but it’s mostly a cover up. even he doesn’t believe in his delusions sometimes.

poor you has to bear the brunt of that, but whilst he’s caressing your face you can forget about all the burden you’re forced to carry because of the emotional baggage your boyfriend brings to the relationship. he sighs. he can’t even look you in the eye. he stares off into the window, the one that rain is trickling against now. the city is beautiful at night, but you’re more beautiful. you’re pretty. so cute. süsser prinzessin. but he can’t bring himself to look at you right now. “i’m not like the rest of you, and i never will be.” you can’t tell what he’s thinking when he says that; but you’ve always been an empath. your hand finds its way back to his and you push it from your cheek and intertwine it between the fingers he hurt so much.

you make him feel so alive, hurting you is the best thrill he could get in life. bringing any harm to you is also the most saddening thing. you’re so nice to him even now, someone like him doesn’t deserve it. he’s a subhuman piece of shit and you love him. he’s also a god, renowned by many. he’s a subhuman who needs to be loved and he’s a cruel cold hearted god who needs to be taught gentleness and kindness. he just rubs his thumb over the back of your smaller hand and sighs. he’s a confident guy, no doubt about it, but maybe you won’t be around forever. maybe you will pack up and leave one day - he’s tried every trick in the book to ensure you stay, not that he even has to do that, because you would undoubtedly, but he can’t help but be worried.

it’s shameful to admit that maybe an emperor does need a princess sometimes. he rubs your hand in circle motions and presses a kiss to your forehead. he’s sorry, he’s so fucking sorry for doing this to you. he doesn’t know why he’s like this; you deserve so much more than this. infinity times infinity more. you’re really his princess, he’s sorry. sorry that he treats you like this. sorry that instead of affection all you get most of the time is his fists bearing into you over and over, a barrage of attacks until he’s finally decided you learned your lesson.

you don’t have anything to learn. kaiser loathes you because you’re a perfect human. you’re beautiful and you’re compassionate. you have a big heart and a big personality and he likes your stupid jokes you tell. and he hates that you stay with him. you’re so perfect, you really are. you notice his eyes are glossy. he hates to cry; kaiser fucking hates crying. you also know your boyfriend hates crying, so you open your mouth for the first time tonight. “i love you, micha.” a sweet whisper of love. he feels your other hand, your other thumb wiping up the small amount of wetness beginning to form on his lashes. only you could notice that, god he fucking hates you. “i love you too” he confesses in a rare moment of vulnerability.

you fall asleep in his arms, and he falls asleep too. he’s squeezing you so tightly, he’s holding you so close like you’re something so precious; like a thief of the night might come and steal you from him. every inch of your body aches from his earlier barbarity, but you didn’t care whilst falling asleep and you won’t care when you wake up. your heart is so pure that you simply don’t have the capacity to care about anything other than your boyfriends wellbeing and happiness.

kaiser is thankful he gets to even lay next to you. you’re not one of the same at all. but sometimes he debates your humanity as much as his own; you’re an angel.

[felixbit]

i like it

pairing: hyunjin x gn!reader w. 2k genre: drama, a mix of fluff + angst summary: you've been in a situationship with hyunjin for almost six months. while he's taking you out, you decide it's time to make or break what you have with the goal of becoming official. warnings: none a/n: i was in a writer's block for like two months, but the album seems to have broken it?? stream ate for good luck (and there will likely not be a part 2 to this)

Six months of back and forth has been driving you crazy.

You'd met a guy that changed your life. He was everything you'd ever wanted: gorgeous, talented, somewhat wealthy, and a kind soul. He was passionate, driven, and everything else that made you want to be his. This was Hyunjin.

The only problem was: Hyunjin struggled with commitment.

He'd take you out on fancy dinners, dates, drop a grand on a shopping trip, but couldn't bring himself to make it official. He sent you flowers, good morning texts, random food orders to your place whenever you mentioned you were hungry over text. But it was 'casual'.

You decided to play his game, give him time to open up. You'd learned that he'd been in a long-term yet rocky relationship that had only ended three months before you met. Of course you wanted to give him time to heal. You wanted him to come to you when he was ready.

He never did. He'd spend all day in your apartment, taking a day off work just to see you. He'd hold you and kiss you until the sun fell and rose again. You would wake up to breakfast in bed served with a side of kisses and little love notes. But, he was instantly avoidant when it came to you asking if he was ready.

So, you were in a weird relationship purgatory. He'd give you everything but a title in his life, and that's all you ever needed with him. The internet seemed to deem it a 'situationship', but it was another label that Hyunjin would likely avoid.

The thought was eating you up inside. Three weeks ago, you drafted up an ultimatum confrontation text to send him. It turned to collecting dust whenever you pasted it into messages and immediately deleted it. Hyunjin was amazing, even with his faults. Could you stand to lose him over wanting to be his?

You sat on the couch that Hyunjin had bought you two months ago, plagued with thoughts about him all morning. He'd been busy almost the entire week, which would throw a wrench into any potential plans. His work was demanding at times and you knew how committed he was to it.

When you finished making breakfast, you ate it while listening to a playlist Hyunjin had sent. He had a good ear for music, especially picking out songs you'd like. He'd started a habit of making you a playlist at the start of every month and you'd listen religiously.

Just as you were finishing up, your phone vibrate and fished it from your pocket. Looking down at the screen, your heart skipped a beat and a smile immediately rushed onto your face.

hyunjin: good morning!!

This was everyday routine. If you didn't wake up to a classic 'good morning' text, you'd get one before the clock ticked over to PM. Sometimes he'd admit he forgot to right when he woke up, but he was pretty good at staying consistent on his timing.

y/n: good morning hyunjinnie :)

That damn nickname. You'd called him a plethora of nicknames since you first started seeing each other, and it was making it infinitely harder to find it casual. The worst part was that he liked them. He encouraged you to use more.

hyunjin: sleep well? y/n: i did, just ate some breakfast hyunjin: yum! y/n: how's your morning been so far hyunjin: perfect now that i'm talking to you

Seeing that text made your heart tug and caused a small outburst on a nearby pillow. It didn't deserve to be hit so many times, but you couldn't contain the cuteness aggression. Also, a little bit of frustration.

y/n: stop itttt!!! making me blush hyunjin: that's my charm y/n: your charm is looking like a cute ferret hyunjin: oh yeah?

Just as you sent the message, you scrolled through your phone for a few photos you had saved of ferrets the night before. Selecting a few and pressing send, the two of you delved into a discussion on his ferret-like looks.

Turns out, he could carry a conversation talking about what animals you both looked like the most for longer than expected. By the time you realized how long you'd been at it, it had almost been half an hour.

y/n: wait. aren't you supposed to be at work by now?? not texting me about ferrets hyunjin: oh yeah, about that hyunjin: i took today off, was thinking we could spend some time together and go out

This was strange, to say the least. Hyunjin was normally quite engrossed in making sure his work was finished. A few months back, you had to convince him to call out of work when he had a high fever and could hardly stand up from his bed.

y/n: what's gotten into you so suddenly hyunjin: what do you mean? y/n: you? hwang hyunjin? calling out of work for me? hyunjin: well of course, why wouldn't i y/n: idk

It took a few tries of writing out variants of 'you're not my boyfriend' before settling on the text you sent. Such official behaviors by a man so scared of labels drove you mad. It was almost perfect, almost.

hyunjin: talk to me y/n: later, okay? hyunjin: how about when i take you out then? y/n: sure

Being so bland over text made a pain swell up in your chest. You wanted to be open and honest with him, but pushing him past his limits had grown to be a massive fear in your mind. The harder part would be figuring out what to say.

Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to tell him. You'd found Hyunjin to be one of the most understanding people to walk to earth. The last time you'd pushed at all for labels was almost three months ago and you'd given up since.

What was there to say, anyways? 'I want you to be my boyfriend or I'll explode'? It was certainly accurate to how your mind had made it seem. The idea of being exclusive with Hyunjin was exhilarating but terrifying.

hyunjin: can i come get you in an hour? y/n: yes

You turned your phone off and set it face-down, sighing and looking at the ceiling. The uncertainty was building, but you had made a decision: it was time to ask. You couldn't keep dancing around the issue. You had serious feelings for him.

So, you kept checking the time as it grew closer and closer to when Hyunjin would come get you. With thirty minutes left, you were already dressed and finishing getting ready. Your heart raced at the thought of him.

The minutes dragged on, but the time finally came. Feeling a ringing buzz in your pocket, you saw his name and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" His voice came from the other end of the line.

You slightly smiled at the sound of him, but responded. "Hey. Are you outside?"

"Yeah, you can come down now, if you're ready."

"Alright, I'll see you in a minute."

Hanging up the call, you composed yourself to the best of your ability and headed down towards him. The wait as you took the elevator was tense, but the second you stepped out of the building and saw him everything else fell away.

Every time you saw him, it was like the first time all over again. His long, black hair and defined features had your heart in a twist. You approached him with a smile on your face, and one matching on his own. He pulled you into a tight hug, smelling his perfume.

"Hey," He said, his voice muffled into your shirt, "How's your day been?"

You pulled away and smiled at him, taking his hand in your own, "I've been okay, missing you like I always do."

Hyunjin chuckled, reaching his free hand up and stroking your cheek softly. "I've missed you, too. That's really why I called out today."

"You missed me that much?"

"Of course."

Before you could bring anything else up, he was calling you over to his car. He had a cafe he planned on showing you, telling you a bit about it as he began to drive towards it. The whole way, you caught him sneaking glances over at you from the driver's seat.

When he pulled into the parking lot outside of the cafe, he opened your door for you and walked you inside, his fingers laced with yours. He read over the menu with you, pointing out a few things that sounded good to him and a few he thought you'd like.

You picked out an order and he was quick to get to the register, paying for both of you without a second thought. You found a table as he waited and brought you drinks, sitting down right opposite you.

"So," He said with a sigh as he took a sip of his drink, "I was worried about you this morning."

"Worried?" You looked at him slightly puzzled, "What would you have to be worried about?"

"You were just.. distant. I could tell when you suddenly texted differently, and I was scared I said something to upset you."

"Oh." You looked up from your drink at him, seeing the way his eyes gazed back fondly into yours. This was the opportunity, if there ever was any.

You took another long drink and took a breath to stabilize. "Hyunjin, I've been thinking about us. I guess I first have to ask you, what are we?"

Hyunjin frowned slightly and you watched his hands fidget on top of the table. "That's.. not an easy question to answer. You're an amazing person I like to be around all the time. That's all I know."

You felt your heartstrings pull. "Hyunjin, I want more than that. I'm done with just being someone you hang out with and buy all sorts of things. I really like being around you, and I really like you. But I can't keep pretending we're dating in my head when we aren't."

Hyunjin looked at you silently, his expression utterly unreadable. His eyes were slightly widened, and you could only see his uncertainty.

You continued, "I can't do this constant push-and-pull, Jinnie. I want to be yours, and if I can't be that then I need to move on and save my own feelings. I'm sorry."

With that, you set your own hands on the table across from his, looking at him. He sat for almost thirty seconds without speaking, looking down at the table and then back up at you.

"I.. don't really know what to say."

You held your breath, but he continued on after a second of silence. "I've been unfair to you, I know. With my last relationship, I had so many doubts and fears.. I was just so comfortable in having us. I didn't want to worry about labels.

"I never realized that's not really what you wanted. It's not your fault that I didn't. So, don't say sorry. I'm sorry. I can't lie and say it's not a bit scary to say, but I like you too. A lot. So much it made me stupid. So I'll be yours. If you'll have me."

You couldn't contain the smile that spread out onto your face, and his followed. He reached across the table and took your hand in his, and you couldn't help but feel like crying. "Hyunjin.."

"Please be mine. I swear, I'll be a better boyfriend than I was a weird situationship."

You nodded vigorously. "Of course I'll have you," You said through a choked-up laugh, "Do you know how many times I almost introduced you to my friends as my boyfriend?"

He grinned and shrugged. "Well, now you can! I just.. I wanted to take it slow, but I guess I didn't stop to ask you how you were feeling after we first decided that."

You stood up from the table and he did as well, pulling you into a tight hug. "Thank you for putting up with me," Hyunjin's voice shook slightly, "And letting me be your boyfriend."

You pulled away from the hug and nodded. "Thank you for understanding when I said something. And, you know, being my boyfriend."

Hyunjin snickered softly and pulled you into a kiss. Maybe it wasn't so bad, after all.

[ma1dita]

kiss his face with an uppercut

smutty part 2 here-> heavy hitter

words: 4k

summary: james potter is so attractive you could beat him to death with a bludger. james potter x fem!beater!reader not from gryffindor (for the plot!!)

warnings: none! james gets physically hurt multiple times by reader, multiple innuendos, enemies to lovers kinda, less serious lovey dove more sexual tension!!! probably not accurate quidditch gameplay

a/n: sorry for the hold up guys this took almost a month of on and off editing lmfao— this whole oneshot makes me think of the filipino word ‘gigil’– simply translating to cuteness aggression; i barely know jack shit about sports much less quidditch but this concept had me looking up quidditch rules to be able to provide– eat up kids

Y/S- sibling name

Y/H- house

(posted & edited 10/10/23)

—

Oh BROTHER, this guy STINKS! I mean, how has he not gotten walloped at least once during this godforsaken game? You suck your teeth at the sight of James flying around the pitch blowing kisses to his fan club and Lily Evans, who turns her nose up at the sight of him.

Merlin, when will this game end?

The Hogwarts Quidditch Semi-Finals of 1977 was a game to watch… until both teams stopped scoring what seemed like hours ago. Both Gryffindor & (Y/H) were at a stalemate, down some players due to injury and now, even lower team morale. Gryffindor team captain and chaser James Potter, notorious Marauder, and resident flirt, is not someone who likes to lose. He’s spent all season drilling his teammates, memorizing plays, and thinking of every outcome possible to ensure another Gryffindor victory. James’ affinity to be right takes precedence over anything, after all. But after beating down almost all of (Y/H)’s reserves, James was almost vibrating with confidence. He really doesn’t lose, not if he can help it.

“AND ANOTHER (Y/H) IS DOWN WITH AN INJURY— Team captain Whithall calls for a timeout as they reconvene on what to do next! Hope you’re still comfy in the stands, folks….” the student announcer grumbles.

There’s absolute chaos on the field, and like birds scuffling over a piece of bread, (Y/S), the team’s last good beater is floating on a gurney, ready to be transported to the Hospital Wing.

“Oh, here comes trouble…” Sirius murmurs, smacking James on the back to grab his attention.

You jump down from the stands to check on (Y/S), and James is too busy reveling in the idea of winning the goddamn semi-finals that he doesn’t notice you putting Quidditch gear on.

“Easy win from here on out, Pads! The little lady’s just checking the damage. Not important,” he chortles before Sirius physically grabs his head to face the girl walking towards him, currently storming across the turf to meet him and his team.

“I’m subbing in,” you say, angry at how dirty Gryffindor’s been playing, and angry that you even have to play in (Y/S)’s stead.

“Sweetheart, this game is for serious, you know that right?” James says a bit dumbly with a furrowed brow. Both of you are head to head, and James sees the twitch in your eye as you cross your arms. Hot air is seeping out of your pores but James’s lip simply quirks up in intrigue. You’re someone he hasn’t noticed before, and the only thing running through his mind besides winning the game is that you’re really pretty. But then again, he’s always found angry women to be attractive, in retrospect.

“Yeah, for the actual cup, not…for Sirius… It’s the wrong time to joke, innit?” Sirius says to break the ice, noticing the palpable tension between your glares. Your faces are inches away from each other and he’s not sure if you two are going to fight or kiss, but it makes him grimace all the same.

“Who do you think (Y/S) practices with? Unlike you and your friends, I know when to take things seriously,” You say through gritted teeth.

“She’s legit, Potter. Got added to our reserves last week.” Whithall pipes up, ready to get back to the game. The crowd has been weathered down after hours of anticipation, and they want to see the end of it, no matter the outcome.

“Much to my surprise,” you grumble, elbowing the authority in the form of a teenage boy not much older than yourself. You should’ve known your sibling was looking a little too happy as they got floated off the pitch on a gurney.

“Then let’s play. Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” James says condescendingly, floating away on his broomstick like it’s a walk in the park, but the way you’re slapping the bat against your palm is getting Sirius a tiny bit nervous for his precious countenance. The whistle blows and the game resumes.

“A SURPRISE ADDITION (Y/N) JOINS HER HOUSE AS BEATER! Gryffindor better watch out for her swi—” You slam the bludger in James’s direction and it hurtles toward him so fast that he almost folds in half, barrel-rolling on his broom to dodge it. The move makes Sirius and a few of their other teammates gasp to see James scrambling back onto his broom.

“Oops! Looks like I missed.” you deadpan, balancing midair as you whack another one where it rebounds off the Gryffindor seeker and back towards James, hitting both of them in the gut.

“THIS GIRL’S GOT AN ARM ON HER! Though might I say her hits look a bit targeted…” The commentator says worriedly, and everyone in the crowd is leaning in their seats trying to get a better view.

“Merlin, are you trying to kill me woman?” he yells in outrage.

“I’m trying to finish the game. Your big head is in the way,” you say with a straight face as Sirius bats towards you, and you spin on your broomstick without shifting your posture. The smile on your face as you taunt him should be considered criminal, but he’s looking at you in a new light.

Yeah, now he’s paying attention. The other Gryffindor players can’t seem to figure out your next move and you bat another bludger towards Potter’s extremely large target of a head, and all of a sudden he’s freefalling through the air as his teammates fly to catch him, one by one. His nose still makes impact with the ground before Sirius catches by the ankle like Achilles taking a dip in the River Styx.

“AND (Y/H) HAS CAPTURED THE SNITCH! Good job to their Seeker, Appleby! Congratulations on a job well done, so that we can all finally go home.” The commentator cringes as McGonagall swats at him to leave the podium.

Who even is she, taking over the game and stealing his win like that?

He’s walking up from the sidelines with a bloody nose, going to shake Whithall’s hand and you’re standing behind him, a malicious grin plastered between your rosy cheeks, windswept and almost ethereal while he looks like he got flattened by a hippogriff. Fuck, she’s pretty. You look like you floated down from the heavens, and by the looks his team gives him, he may have just crawled out of the earth.

“Congrats,” he grumbles, turning to you. Really pretty. It’s even worse that you’re devastatingly stunning up close— with sweat glistening on your brow and a pearly white smile, he takes a good moment to really look at you and memorize the flutter of your eyelashes. He’s unsure if he’s concussed or maybe it’s his astigmatism, but there are actual stars in his vision as he peers down at you. Your confidence is actually kind of sexy.

“You look…um…you ride well.” He stutters, shaking his head from his personal reverie.

“Excuse me?” you say, your little mouth agape in what he hopes is not disgust. He looks pathetic, blood sopping down to his jersey as he looks at you like he’s only seeing you for the first time, acknowledging you closely. Something about seeing him flail makes you crinkle your nose as you stifle a grin.

“I mean…Um…” Damn.

Sirius pulls his best friend away before you can bite back your laughter, all of your teammates leading you away to celebrate.

“Mate, what the shit was that? Are you alright in the head?” Sirius says, and if James’ nose wasn’t already bleeding he was going to slap him silly.

“Just…Didn’t see that coming…” he mumbles, and his mind, along with all of Gryffindor is in disarray as they walk back to their tower. He’s got a lot of thinking to do on what his next move will be.

—

James Potter goes through life in three methodical ways: 1.) creating a strategy, 2.) making a scene, 3.) and dragging his friends into it— in that particular order, every single time.

Now notice how considering consequences is not part of said process.

His ego wouldn’t let him rest after a girl, much less a very pretty one that he’d never noticed before—beat him at what he does best; quidditch! In fact, the next few nights were void of sleep and filled with thoughts of you. The way your hair looked so soft in the sunlight, how your lip turns almost Gryffindor red when you bite it in concentration, and maybe how your delicate hands would look as they tightly grasp onto his bat...ahem…your quidditch bat. Some dirty delusions aside, if looks could kill, he’d be dead seven times over, but honestly? He’d probably thank you for it.

James’ new mission was to figure you out, and if that was his mission, it meant it was the rest of the Marauders’ too. For the sake of winning the Cup, of course. That’s what he tries to tell himself until his mates catch him ogling you again at breakfast.

“So what is it with you and girls that inflict you nothing but pain and humiliation?” Remus muses, as the Marauders watch James laugh at a joke you told your friends at the (Y/H) table across the Great Hall. He looks at you like someone who stares at the sun, squinting and burning himself as he ponders on why he’s unable to look away.

James fumbles a response, shoving Remus as they all laugh. “Listen, I’ve got a bit of a masochistic streak, Moony. Just…There’s something about her…”

Your friends are pointing at him now, and as you turn to meet his eyes, you lift a brow inquisitively and flip him off. Sirius’s face pulls up in shock at James’s growing smile at the interaction as he mumbles, “Maybe you’ve met your match, Prongs…”

The boy pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, anything to try to see you clearer as he leans over to put his head in his hands, sighing dreamily. His friends are not as easily amused.

“A match made in heaven, you reckon?”

—

“Match made in hell, more like!” You spit, almost choking on your scrambled eggs at your friends’ insinuations. Your back is as stiff as a board, shoulders tight at the notion of you ever liking James Potter triggering your fight or flight response. When it comes to someone as pompous as him, only the word fight comes to mind.

“Oh come on, love… He’s popular, funny, and quite handsome…It’s James freaking Potter we’re talking about!” your roommate gushes, but you're not the least bit impressed.

“Is that supposed to do anything for me? I can think of a few F words that middle initial can stand for…” Eyes rolling, you peek back at the Gryffindor table to see said boy wiggling his fingers at you teasingly until he accidentally smacks Peter in the face with his toast. Idiot.

“Only hot people get away with stupid shit. I mean look at the four of them!” you continue, gulping down the rest of your coffee. “Potter’s the worst out of all of them though. Big ass head must compensate for a lot of things." You say, shaking your head at your friends.

"And yet, here you are, talking about him for the fourth time this morning," your roommate replies, smirking. " You’ve been Potter crazy since you helped us beat Gryffindor in the semi-finals! Are you sure you don't have a crush on him?"

"No!" you say too quickly, too loudly, that the shrill noise of your voice makes your ears hurt and the shit-eating grins on your friends’ faces reflect how desperate that came off. You slump onto the table, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You wanna kiss him, don’t you?” they tease, and you push away their puckering faces as you scoff, “With an uppercut, maybe!” Almost makes you want to stomp over there and wipe the stupid look off his face…and maybe sit on his lap. You run your fingers through your hair in frustration. All this aggression really needs to go somewhere, but unfortunately, James Potter’s lap is the only destination you have in mind.

“He’s just really punchable. I get so annoyed by the sight of him I just want to… ugh!” you groan, your hands shaking as you try to convince them (or yourself). Your friends cackle at the sight of you pretending to squeeze his curly-topped, mothball-filled head, but your brain changes course and you imagine what it’s like to hold his hand. Your fingers flex cautiously at the idea, wondering what his touch would feel like. Grabbing a glass of water to cool your thoughts, your peripherals reveal he’s still staring at you like you make night turn into day. His gaze is searing, and as you put your lips around your straw, he licks his lips slowly. Shit.

—

Availability bias is one hell of a mindfuck. If only they taught psychology at this magic school, maybe the wizarding world would have way fewer problems and more people would be straightforward and not.. Dead. James decides he can categorize his life now as before you, and after you.

Before you, well… he honestly wasn’t even sure if you were a student at Hogwarts until he saw you marching down the pitch, but now… You’re everywhere. He can spot your voice in a crowded hallway, and who was going to tell him you’ve had three classes with him this whole term? Even down to when he shuts his eyes, he’s convinced his eyelids are branded with the imprint of your silhouette. Every conversation he strikes with you ends with you laughing at him, and he’s unsure if that’s a step up or down from the many boisterous rejections from Lily Evans over the years. He sort of wishes you’d laugh with him, and do a number of other things, (heck he’s got a list of ideas he’s wanked off to), and well… His soul is tightly wound with thoughts of you and Godric, listen to this guy…. maybe the boys were right…. Maybe he really does need to get laid.

It’s funny how fate works, two people who’ve barely interacted in the past six years at Hogwarts are now paired together for a History of Magic essay worth 20% of the term grade. You’re trying to get this done as fast as possible, he notices, mapping out ideas and trying to discuss how to piece it all together, yet James does everything but that to get you to pay attention to him. He fills your head with mundane little questions, asking you what your favorite fruit is to the childhood bedtime story your parents told you as a kid.

“What’s your middle name, Potter?” You muse, finally entertaining him after endless chatter. His eyes trail to the exposed skin of your collarbones as you stretch in your seat, and well… you don’t look as menacing as you always do but did it seriously have to be this question? He scratches the back of his head, silent for the first time in the two hours you’ve been trying to craft this essay for the sake of both your grades.

“What? I can’t just go around calling you James Fucking Potter. Spit it out, you know too much about me already.”

He clears his throat, a blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… that’s an intimate question, love… I…”

Your laughter at his response makes his senses shut down. “Oh, so it’s bad. What is it, Franklin? Fabio? Come on, I won’t bite.” A part of him wishes you would, your face equally flushed and so close to him right now, almost leering at him for an answer. It’d be easy to just lean over…

“Fleamont.”

Your lips quirk, until they pucker like you’ve guzzled a lemon. The blush on your cheeks intensifies, and the sound explodes out of you. You laugh so loudly Madam Pince kicks you both out of the library, James carrying both your knapsacks, a hand around your waist as you rush out of there. Your body is firm under his touch, pupils unfocused and dilated looking at him now that you know his dirty little secret. James thinks that if you keep looking at him like that, hell, you can call him anything you want.

—

Fleamont.

What a prick. A really attractive, clueless prick. The memory makes you giggle as you get ready for the Quidditch Cup and your team charges out onto the field to face Gryffindor again, as you’ve both advanced to the finals. He’s not as much of an asshole as you originally thought. It’s undeniable that something pulls you towards him, whether it be hormones, concern, or the fact that it’s actually adorable the way he writes his mother back weekly, or admirable how he moved Sirius out of Black Manor himself last year. Maybe it’s endearing the way he goes out of his way to make first-years smile or heartwarming how even Filch can’t find reasons to hate him. The golden boy. You get it now, why people get trapped in his web, and why many are unwilling to leave.

You pass him outside the locker rooms, bumping shoulders as he smiles almost bashfully. The golden boy, loudmouth, ball of energy is reduced to a nervous pile of teenage ineptness at the sight of you, every time. You could take him (not in a fight). In an actual fight, maybe you could land a few solid hits before his nice muscly arms hold you do—

“Ready to finish this, darling?”

Your eyes refocus when his hand nudges the small of your back, right above your hip. “Mhmm,” you clear your throat, “Ready to lose, Potter?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He moves closer, slowly backing you into the wall.

“Eyes on the prize Potter, I’m in this to win it.” You say, looking at the closing distance between both your chests. James nods, not taking his eyes off of you for a moment, even when the announcer calls out the imminent start of the game.

“WELCOME TO THE HOGWARTS QUIDDITCH CUP OF 1977 GRYFFINDOR VS. (Y/H)! I hope you are all excited as our last match between these teams was quite thrilling at the end of it!” The announcer says, hyping up the roaring crowd as your teams parade onto the pitch.

His eyes are still on you when he shakes Whithall’s hand and the whistle blows. It’s intense, and makes you feel like you’re burning, even if the wind is blowing like crazy today. You bat the bludgers toward anything red on the field that even dares to move toward your teammates. James won’t stop staring at you, and you both lock eyes across the pitch.

“What? Flirt with me later, Potter, I’m trying to win!” you yell.

He’s got you transfixed, and it’s crazy how his timing is always wrong. You bat the bludger away from your captain but don’t notice James flying towards you to respond as you give it your hardest swing, making the impact against his huge target of a head all the more painful.

Holy shit, did you kill him?

He keels off his broom like a shot bird and then he’s falling, and you’re the one chasing the Gryffindor chaser as he flaps his arms like the idiot you know he is as you push forward to catch him before he splits his skull open.

“I’msofuckingsorryJamesareyouokay?” You blurt out as you land, soft hands moving over his broad chest and quickly swelling face. He’s wearing that stupid grin again, and you think you may have finally broken Gryffindor’s team captain.

“You know my name?” he sighs happily, comfortable in your lap and maybe it’s the brain damage you’ve caused him or the way his glasses are bent beyond repair but you will every magical predecessor you can think of to stop you from punching him in the face right now.

“Are you fucking dense?” You scream, shaking your head, and jostling him as his arms try to reach out to swipe the hair away from your face.

“Must’ve hit him so hard you knocked his filter loose..” Sirius muses after he lands next to you two on the grass.

“POTTER’S TAKEN A HIT FROM (Y/H) and it doesn’t look good ladies and gents! Gryffindor calls a timeout to check on their captain!” The announcer calls out, and there are so many eyes on the two of you as James is simply giggling like a prepubescent schoolboy. Fuck, you’ve maimed the golden boy.

“Y’know, sweetheart. You’re…really sexy when you’re on top of me like this,” he says breathily, and you really can’t hit him, so you jab Sirius in the gut instead when he tries to laugh at his best friend’s stupidity.

—

James wakes up in the hospital wing with a blinding headache until someone gently pulls the curtains closed, stroking the hair off his sweaty forehead.

“Poppy you always take such good care of me…” he mumbles. A punch lands on his chest and his eyes rip open, not expecting to see you at his bedside.

“Idiot,” you mutter. “You’re always in my way and now look, you almost got yourself killed and it would’ve been my fault! How dare you, James…” The red is crawling up your neck like a brushfire as you berate him, and he takes it with a grin as you jabber on, putting his arms behind his head.

“Were you worried about me, love?” James smiles cheesily, catching your arm at its half-hearted attempt to slap him across the face.

“I was not. Stubborn people like you are hard to kill. I’m more annoyed that I can’t morally punch your face in since you have a concussion. Madame Pomfrey’s already healed your cheekbone.”

“That you broke,” he says matter-of-factly, taking a chance to kiss the palm of your hand. This concussion is working like a bottle of Felix Felicis. It’s endearing to see you taking care of him, whether you like it or not (even with the punches he’s sure it’ll come with).

“You’re sick in the head.”

“For you. I was trying to come tell you that I never took my eyes off the prize, but then of course you bludgeoned my face in before I could get sweet on yo—”

Your lips crash down on his, and nothing about it is delicate. It’s a month’s worth of yearning, imaginations coming to fruition as he grabs the back of your head to deepen the embrace. Your lips on his are hot and heady, and he could be easily convinced that he’s stuck there, cauterized to the shape of you.

“I know. I could feel you watching.” You breathe into his mouth, leaning up on his chest. His lips chase up again to meet yours, biting down on your bottom lip as you groan. He might like that noise better than the sound of your laughter. It’ll be fun to find out.

“Who won the Cup?”

Laughter spills out of your red, kiss-swollen lips as you pat his cheek gently, fingers grazing over his healed cheekbone.

“Not Gryffindor. But listen closely James, if you be a good boy and get past this concussion, I’ll make up for it by showing you how well I ride…”

He likes the sound of that, Quidditch Cup be damned. You see, James Potter never loses, ladies and gentlemen, not really—and well... there’s always next year.

—

“I like the way

you look at me

like you are

going to talk to me

or devour me

and I am fine with either.”

-N.R. Hart

taglist: @jsjcue

[writingbuckets]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐯

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 5k

a/n: heyyy... so sorry i've been MIA, i had finals then went on vacation and am just now getting settled. but the good news is that im officially on break so i have nothing to do but write. the even better news is that to make for falling off the grid, i've written an absurdly long chapter AND it's a double update. theres also a surprise for you in part 6 *wink wink* enjoy!

The text came earlier than you expected that morning, breaking through the low hum of background noise from the TV. You were sprawled across the couch, a half-empty mug of coffee balanced precariously on the armrest, idly scrolling through a random sports highlight reel that had been playing for the better part of an hour.

Your phone buzzed against your thigh, the vibration cutting through your thoughts. Picking it up, you noticed the name at the top of the screen before you even read the message: Paige Bueckers.

Paige Bueckers:Pick you up at 7. Wear something nice.

Straightforward. Confident. Classic Paige. A smile tugged at your lips as you read the words, the familiar surge of warmth spreading through your chest. She had this way of making everything seem effortless—whether it was threading an impossible pass on the court or casually setting the tone for what felt like your first real date.

You stared at the message for a beat longer than necessary, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. Memories of the last few weeks flickered through your mind. What had started as casual hangouts—grabbing coffee after gym sessions, joining her and her teammates for late-night food runs, or studying side by side in the library—had slowly shifted into something else.

There was the way her eyes lingered a second too long when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Or how her hand would brush yours during a game of pick-up, sending sparks through your skin even when she laughed it off. How the teasing between you had gone from lighthearted to loaded, every quip hiding an undercurrent of something deeper.

The tension had been building steadily, a slow burn that neither of you acknowledged directly but both felt all the same. You weren’t sure when the casual hangouts had started feeling like something more—maybe it was the night she drove you home after a team dinner, her hand gripping the gear shift tightly as you talked about everything and nothing. Or the time she lingered after an impromptu game of HORSE, offering to shoot a few extra free throws with you, even though you both knew she could sink them blindfolded.

You hadn’t put a name to it yet, but the space between you felt charged, like it was waiting for the right moment to catch fire.

Still, Paige had been careful not to push. She kept things easy, never giving you a reason to second-guess her intentions—until now. Something about her message felt different, more deliberate, as if she’d finally decided to stop dancing around the edge of whatever this was.

Your fingers moved instinctively, typing out a reply.

You:Define “nice.”

The three little dots appeared almost immediately, a sign that Paige was already crafting her response.

Paige Bueckers:Something that’ll make me regret making dinner the main event tonight.

Your face heated as you read the words, and you quickly locked your phone, your heart racing. The flirty confidence in her text was nothing new—Paige had always been bold, unafraid to say what was on her mind. But this felt different, like she was deliberately testing the waters, seeing how far she could push before you pushed back.

For a moment, you debated whether you should reply. The temptation to fire back a teasing remark tugged at you, but the idea of leaving her hanging was just as enticing. Instead, you leaned back against the cushions, your thoughts spinning.

In truth, the idea of going on a proper date with Paige wasn’t as foreign as you might have thought a month ago. Back then, it had been easy to chalk up the lingering glances and subtle touches to her naturally magnetic personality. Paige had a way of drawing people in, making them feel like they were the only one in the room. You weren’t immune to that charm—no one was—but you’d convinced yourself that what you had was firmly rooted in friendship.

Now, though, you weren’t so sure. The lines had blurred, the boundaries shifting in ways you couldn’t ignore. And if Paige’s message was anything to go by, she wasn’t ignoring them either.

The weight of it all settled over you as you glanced back at your phone, the screen dark and unresponsive. Tonight wasn’t just about dinner—it was a step forward, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tension that had been simmering between you for weeks.

You glanced at the clock, the numbers blurring slightly as your mind raced. You still had hours to prepare, but suddenly it didn’t feel like enough time.

Paige Bueckers had a way of keeping you on your toes. And tonight, you had a feeling she was about to raise the stakes.

The hours leading up to 7 p.m. were a chaotic mix of anticipation and nerves. You rifled through your closet, pulling out one outfit after another, none of them feeling quite right. Casual but sophisticated? Too boring. A little edgy? Too over-the-top. Eventually, you settled on a sleek black dress with a low neckline that hugged your figure in all the right ways.

As you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric and adjusting the straps, you couldn’t help but wonder what Paige would wear. You’d seen her off the court enough times to know she could pull off anything—from oversized hoodies to the rare tailored outfit that turned heads.

By the time 7 rolled around, you were practically pacing the apartment. The knock at the door made you jump, and you took a deep breath before opening it.

Paige stood there, leaning against the doorframe like she had all the time in the world. She wore a fitted blazer over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves pushed up to her elbows, paired with tailored pants that emphasized her long frame. Her sneakers—pristine white—gave the outfit a casual touch, but she looked undeniably put together.

Her eyes swept over you, lingering just a second too long to be polite.

“You look…” she began, her voice trailing off as a grin spread across her face. “Incredible.”

Your cheeks warmed under her gaze, but you managed a smirk. “You clean up pretty well yourself, Bueckers. Didn’t think you owned anything without a logo on it.”

She laughed, the sound low and easy. “Special occasions call for special outfits. You ready?”

You nodded, grabbing your clutch. As she held the door open for you, her hand brushed lightly against your lower back, and the subtle gesture sent a thrill up your spine.

**********

Paige hadn’t given you any clues about where you were going, no matter how many times you’d tried to prod it out of her earlier that day. Every attempt was met with the same maddeningly smug response: “Patience, Y/N.”

By the time her car finally pulled up to the restaurant, you understood why she’d been so secretive. The place was breathtaking—one of those spots that looked like it had been plucked straight out of a luxury travel magazine. Soft, ambient lighting bathed the space in a warm glow, while elegant decor—polished wood, minimalist greenery, and sparkling crystal accents—created an atmosphere that was somehow both intimate and grand. Even from the curb, you could tell this wasn’t just dinner—it was a statement.

“You really went all out,” you murmured as Paige came around to open the car door for you, a move so smooth it made your heart skip.

She grinned, offering you her hand as you stepped out. “Told you I was determined to impress you.”

You followed her inside, the quiet hum of conversation and the gentle clink of glasses welcoming you into the space. As your eyes adjusted to the low lighting, you took in the subtle details that made the restaurant feel special—candlelit tables, discreet nooks for privacy, and an unspoken air of exclusivity that was equal parts thrilling and intimidating.

Paige must have noticed your hesitation because she nudged you lightly with her elbow. “What’s the verdict? Too much?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping. “Not too much. Just…unexpected. I didn’t peg you for the romantic type.”

She gave you a mock-offended look, placing a hand over her chest like you’d wounded her. “I’ll have you know, Y/N, I can be extremely romantic when I want to be. Guess you’ll just have to wait and see for yourself.”

The host greeted Paige with a warm smile—her name clearly recognizable even in a place like this—and led the two of you to a secluded corner booth. It was tucked away, offering just enough privacy to feel like a small haven amid the otherwise bustling space. The soft light from the nearby wall sconce cast a golden glow over the table, and as Paige gestured for you to slide into the booth first, you couldn’t help but appreciate how thoughtful she’d been.

“This is...nice,” you admitted as you settled into the plush seat, glancing around at the cozy setup.

“I know,” Paige replied, sliding in across from you with a smirk. She leaned back against the booth, her long legs stretching out in front of her like she owned the place.

Her confidence was infectious, and you found yourself relaxing slightly, though the elegance of the setting still had you a little on edge. As you picked up the menu, your eyes widened at the selections—dishes with names so fancy you weren’t sure if they were in English or Italian.

Paige tilted her head, watching you with amusement. “What’s going through that overthinking brain of yours right now?”

You set the menu down with a small laugh. “Honestly? I’m trying not to freak out over how fancy this place is. I’m not sure I can even pronounce half the stuff on this menu.”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and unguarded, and it immediately put you at ease. “Relax, it’s just dinner. Think of it as a really well-decorated diner.”

You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a grin. “A diner where the appetizers cost more than my grocery bill for the week?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her playful grin firmly in place. “Okay, how about this? I’ll order for both of us. Deal?”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, both intrigued and skeptical. “Bold move, Bueckers. What if I hate what you pick?”

Paige’s grin widened, and she tilted her head slightly, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Then I’ll spend the rest of the night making it up to you.”

Your breath caught, the words hitting with more weight than you expected. You tried to keep your composure, but Paige wasn’t done. She leaned back in her seat, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and confidence. “But, let’s be real—you won’t hate it. I have excellent taste.”

“Oh, do you now?” you shot back, finding your footing again in the banter. “And how exactly do you know that?”

She shrugged, a hint of challenge in her expression. “Well, you’re here with me, aren’t you? That’s proof enough.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a smile. “Wow. You’re really laying it on thick tonight, huh?”

“Just calling it like I see it,” Paige replied smoothly, her grin softening into something more genuine. “But seriously, Y/N, don’t stress. This is supposed to be fun, remember? Let me handle the menu, and you just enjoy the night. Deal?”

You hesitated for a moment, but the way she was looking at you—equal parts playful and sincere—made it impossible to say no. Finally, you nodded. “Alright, Bueckers. But if you order something weird, I’m holding it against you forever.”

Paige chuckled, lifting her hand as if swearing an oath. “Noted. I promise to stick to the non-weird stuff.”

As the server approached, Paige rattled off an order with a confidence that impressed you, selecting dishes that sounded fancy without being over-the-top. The way she spoke to the server—polite but with a casual ease—only added to the charm she seemed to be radiating tonight.

Once the server left, Paige’s attention shifted back to you, her gaze soft but focused. She drummed her fingers lightly on the table, a teasing glint in her eye. “Alright, serious question time,” she said, her tone light but curious. “What’s the weirdest pregame ritual you’ve ever heard of?”

The question caught you off guard, and you blinked at her before breaking into a grin. “That’s random.”

She shrugged, her lips curving into a lazy smile. “I was just thinking about how some of my teammates have the wildest superstitions. Like one of them has to tie their shoes in the exact same order every time. Left shoe first, three loops, then right shoe. It’s wild.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your seat as you thought about it. “Okay, okay. Weirdest one I’ve ever heard? I interviewed a softball player once who said she had to eat the exact same breakfast before every game—eggs, toast, and a single slice of pineapple. If the pineapple wasn’t there, she swore it threw her off completely.”

Paige’s eyes widened, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “A single slice? That’s… oddly specific.”

“I know, right? She was dead serious about it, though. Said it was her ‘good luck charm.’”

Paige laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “I get it, though. Sports are such a mental game. Sometimes those little things trick your brain into thinking you’ve got the edge.”

“Okay, Miss Rational Athlete,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Do you have any weird pregame habits I should know about?”

Her smile turned sheepish, and she looked down at her hands for a moment before meeting your gaze. “Nothing too crazy. But I do this thing where I listen to the same song right before warmups. It’s like my hype track.”

You leaned forward, intrigued. “What song?”

She hesitated, a playful grimace crossing her face. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“No promises.”

Paige rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the grin tugging at her lips. “Alright, it’s ‘Run This Town.’”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you. “Are you serious? That song’s so old!”

“Hey!” she protested, pointing a finger at you. “It’s a classic. Plus, it works. Gets me in the zone every time.”

“Okay, okay,” you relented, still grinning. “I’ll give you that. But now I’m curious—what’s your off-court hype song?”

She tilted her head, considering it for a moment. “Off-court? Probably something chill, like ‘Best Part.’”

The answer surprised you, and it must have shown on your face because Paige raised an eyebrow. “What? You didn’t think I was capable of being mellow?”

“I mean… not really,” you teased, biting back a smile.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Wow. See, this is why I asked you out. You keep me humble.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that, your chest warming at the sincerity beneath her playful words. “Glad I could be of service.”

Paige leaned back, her eyes scanning your face like she was committing every detail to memory. “Alright, your turn. What’s the one thing that always gets you in the zone? For work, podcasts, whatever.”

You thought about it for a moment, tapping your fingers against the table. “Honestly? Coffee. I know it’s basic, but if I don’t have a cup before I start working, it’s game over. My brain just doesn’t function.”

She laughed, her gaze softening. “That’s not basic. That’s survival. Trust me, I’ve seen my teammates without coffee before morning practice. It’s not pretty.”

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm after that, the conversation flowing effortlessly as you swapped stories and quirks. Paige shared tales of grueling practices and ridiculous pranks her teammates had pulled, while you recounted some of your most memorable podcast interviews and the behind-the-scenes chaos that often went unnoticed by listeners.

By the time the first course arrived, you were completely at ease, the earlier tension long forgotten. Paige had a way of drawing you in, her attention unwavering and her presence magnetic. And as the night went on, you couldn’t help but notice how natural it all felt—like the two of you had been doing this for years instead of just navigating the uncharted territory of a first date.

**********

Dinner was… perfect. Not just because of the food—though each dish that arrived was better than the last, a delicate balance of flavors that you could still taste long after the plates were cleared. No, what made the night unforgettable was Paige herself. She had a way of making even the most mundane details captivating, her stories woven with humor, sincerity, and a touch of self-deprecation that made you smile more times than you could count.

She leaned back against the booth, her posture relaxed but her eyes alight with energy as she recounted her childhood in Minnesota. “We didn’t have much, but we had a hoop in the driveway. That was all I needed,” she said, her voice softening with nostalgia. “I’d be out there for hours, shooting until it got so dark I couldn’t see the rim. And even then, I’d keep going, pretending I was hitting buzzer-beaters in some championship game.”

Her gaze drifted to her glass, the condensation forming lazy trails down the sides as she toyed with the stem. “I probably drove my parents crazy. The sound of the ball hitting the pavement, over and over…” She chuckled, the memory warming her voice. “But I’d get lost in it, you know? Like nothing else mattered in those moments.”

You found yourself smiling, caught up in the vivid picture she painted. It was easy to imagine a younger version of Paige, her determination already evident as she honed her craft under a dimming sky. “Sounds like you were always destined for the big stage,” you said, your tone half-teasing but mostly genuine.

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours, and there was a flicker of something in them—gratitude, maybe, or acknowledgment. “Maybe,” she said with a small shrug. “But what about you? What got you into media? There’s gotta be a story there.”

You hesitated, the question pulling you back into your own memories. You reached for your glass, taking a sip to gather your thoughts. “It wasn’t anything glamorous,” you started, setting the glass back down. “I just grew up obsessed with sports. My first crush was a soccer player I saw on TV—I had no idea what was happening in the game, but I was glued to the screen.”

Paige grinned, a playful glint in her eye. “A soccer player? Scandalous.”

You laughed, nudging her foot lightly under the table. “I was, like, ten. Cut me some slack.”

She laughed along with you, the sound bright and infectious, but her expression softened as you continued.

“Anyway,” you said, leaning forward, “I realized pretty early on that I wasn’t going to be the one making highlight reels, but I loved the stories behind them—the moments, the people. So, I started writing. Got into broadcasting later. It felt natural, like I could connect to the games in a different way.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, as if she were trying to piece something together. “But… you almost gave it up, right? You mentioned that on the podcast once.”

You nodded, suddenly finding the edge of your napkin very interesting. “Yeah. There was a time when it felt… impossible, I guess. The deadlines, the pressure to be better, the endless grind of it all. I started wondering if I was even good enough to be in the same room as the people I admired.”

Her expression grew serious, and she tilted her head slightly, her attention locked on you in a way that made your chest tighten. “So why didn’t you?”

Her question was simple, but it hit somewhere deep. You fiddled with your fork, tracing its edge against the plate. “I guess… I just couldn’t imagine doing anything else. Even when it got hard, there was this pull, like I needed it. Telling those stories, being part of that world—it felt like a part of me, like letting it go would mean losing something important.”

Paige was quiet for a moment, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I get that,” she said softly. “Basketball’s the same for me. It’s not just a game—it’s everything. It’s who I am.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The restaurant’s soft lighting seemed to cast the booth in a bubble, insulating you from the world outside. You could hear the gentle hum of conversation around you, the clinking of glasses and silverware, but it all felt distant—unimportant compared to the presence in front of you.

You glanced at her, the sharp lines of her face softened by the warm light, and felt a strange sense of peace. The kind of peace that came not from the absence of noise, but from being seen—really seen—by someone who understood.

She shifted slightly, her arm resting casually along the back of the booth, her eyes never leaving yours. “You know,” she said after a beat, her tone lighter now, “I think we’re both just a couple of overachievers trying not to burn out.”

You snorted, breaking the stillness with a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Her grin widened, and she tapped the edge of her glass against yours in a mock toast. “To overachieving, then. And maybe figuring it out along the way.”

You clinked your glass against hers, smiling despite yourself. “I’ll drink to that.”

And as the night stretched on, the conversation shifted back to lighter topics—favorite movies, embarrassing childhood stories, and the kind of idle banter that felt effortless. But the memory of that shared moment, the quiet understanding between you, lingered like a thread tying the night together.

After dinner, Paige suggested a walk. The air was crisp but not biting, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier in the day. You strolled through the quiet streets, the usual city buzz softened under the golden glow of streetlights. The soft shuffle of your footsteps filled the pauses in conversation, and the occasional murmur of distant laughter or the faint hum of passing cars added a comforting rhythm to the night.

“This was nice,” you said, glancing at Paige out of the corner of your eye.

She turned to look at you, her hands tucked casually into the pockets of her jacket, the edges of her hair catching the light. “Yeah?” she asked, her tone warm, teasing but earnest.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile. “You definitely exceeded expectations.”

Her lips quirked into a grin, a flicker of pride dancing in her eyes. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I could top the coffee shop date.”

You laughed softly, the memory of that day sparking a familiar warmth. “This was… different.”

“Better?” she asked, her head tilting slightly, as if your answer really mattered to her.

You nodded, feeling the weight of her gaze settle on you like a gentle pressure. “Yeah. Better.”

The space between you seemed to shrink as you continued walking, your shoulders brushing occasionally. Every accidental touch sent a quiet thrill through you, a reminder of how your connection with her seemed to deepen with every moment.

At one point, Paige came to an abrupt stop, her sneakers scuffing against the pavement. You turned to face her, puzzled, and found her looking at you with an expression that was open yet uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her voice softer than usual, almost tentative.

You tilted your head, trying to ignore the way your heart picked up its pace. “Depends,” you replied lightly, though the intensity in her gaze was making it hard to keep your tone steady.

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands still in her pockets. It was as if she was searching for the right words, the confident Paige you knew now replaced with someone more vulnerable, someone whose sincerity tugged at your chest.

“What are we doing here?” she asked at last, the question hanging between you like a delicate thread. “I mean… I know what I want this to be, but I don’t want to assume anything.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard by her sudden honesty. Her usual confidence, so steady and self-assured, now gave way to something raw and unguarded.

“Paige…” you started, unsure of what to say.

She didn’t give you a chance to fill the silence, her words spilling out in a rush. “I just—look, I don’t want to screw this up, okay? This, you, us… whatever this is becoming. I’m not good at figuring this stuff out, but I know how I feel about you, and I need to know we’re on the same page.”

You stared at her, the faint sheen of vulnerability in her eyes anchoring you in place. She wasn’t hiding behind jokes or bravado; she was laying it all out for you, her walls nowhere in sight.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against hers before curling gently around them. “You’re not screwing anything up,” you said softly, your voice steady despite the wild pounding of your heart. “This is… whatever we want it to be.”

She let out a slow breath, her shoulders easing as the tension melted away. “Okay,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter now. “Good. Because I really like you, Y/N. And I want to see where this goes.”

Her admission made your chest tighten in the best way, the sincerity in her voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You smiled, unable to stop yourself even if you tried. “I like you too, Bueckers,” you said, your words teasing but completely genuine. “Now, can we keep walking before I overthink this and ruin the moment?”

She laughed, the sound breaking the tension and making the streetlights around you seem a little brighter. “Lead the way,” she said, her hand still brushing against yours as you resumed your walk.

And as the two of you moved forward into the quiet night, the unspoken promise of something more hung between you, electric and full of possibility.

When Paige walked you back to your apartment, the crisp night air seemed to cling to your skin, amplifying the charged silence that settled between you. Every step felt deliberate, the quiet hum of the city around you fading into the background. Standing just outside your door, she lingered, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets as if she was holding something back, her gaze steady and searching.

“I had a great time tonight,” she said, her voice lower than usual, like she was sharing a secret meant only for you.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice quieter than you intended, your pulse quickening under the intensity of her attention.

For a moment, it seemed like she might leave. Her weight shifted, her eyes flickering between the door and your face, a subtle war playing out in her expression. Then, almost imperceptibly, she took a step closer, her proximity making the air between you feel heavier, charged.

Her hand brushed against yours—a fleeting, deliberate touch. “Would it be crazy,” she asked, her tone both hesitant and daring, “if I asked to come in?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her question settling in your chest. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface all night now felt like a live wire sparking between you. Your breath caught for a moment before you answered, your voice soft but sure. “It wouldn’t be crazy,” you murmured, stepping aside to let her in.

Paige moved past you, her shoulder grazing yours in the process, sending a thrill up your spine. The door clicked shut behind her, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet intimacy of your apartment. She turned to face you, her jacket still hanging open, her hands now free and resting at her sides. Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes—they were full of intent, smoldering with something that made your heart pound in your chest.

“So,” she said after a moment, her tone playful but tinged with something deeper, more serious, “what happens now?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with possibility. Words seemed useless—there was no answer you could give that wouldn’t pale in comparison to the gravity of the moment. So instead of speaking, you closed the distance between you, your feet moving before your mind could catch up.

Her breath hitched when you reached her, and for a fleeting second, her confidence faltered, replaced by something raw and vulnerable. Her hands found your waist with an almost tentative touch, her fingers pressing into you as if testing the waters. But when you didn’t pull away, when you instead leaned in closer, her grip tightened, pulling you flush against her.

The world outside ceased to exist. It was just you and Paige, the heat between you building like a slow burn finally catching fire. Her lips hovered inches from yours, her breath warm against your skin as her eyes searched yours for permission, for reassurance.

You didn’t make her wait. Your hands slid up her arms, your fingers curling lightly against the back of her neck, guiding her down to meet you. When your lips finally met, it wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was purposeful, a culmination of the tension that had been simmering all evening, maybe even longer.

Her kiss was soft at first, exploratory, but it quickly deepened, her confidence returning as she pressed closer, her hands slipping from your waist to the small of your back. Every touch, every movement felt deliberate, like she was committing the moment to memory.

When you finally broke apart, breathless but unwilling to let go, her forehead rested against yours, her voice a soft murmur in the charged silence. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night,” she confessed, a small smile tugging at her lips.

You laughed quietly, your hands still resting on her shoulders. “You’re not the only one.”

Her smile grew, her confidence now fully restored. “Then I guess I should’ve asked to come in sooner,” she teased, her fingers tracing idle patterns along your back.

Your only response was to tug her closer, ready to let whatever was building between you take its natural course.

[drowning-in-paragraphs]

MIRROR

a/n: I had no idea if posting this was a good idea or not, but it's better to let it out than to leave it forgotten in the drafts. I hope you like it… I’ll leave this here, and I’ll retreat slowly…

jude bellingham x exgf!reader (trent alexander-arnold´s sister)

warnings: +18 content, p in v, protected sex, dom!Jude, dirty talk… kinda angsty, english is not my first language.

summary: Stuck at your brother's party, you struggle to get over Jude, your ex, who brings back old feelings every time you look at him. Despite your attempts to flirt with other guys, Trent and Jude always end up shooing them away, and your anger only grows. When Jude's gaze meets yours, the tension becomes electric. Before you know it, you both find yourself in the bathroom, where your chemistry ignites in a heated encounter that ignores all the rules you once swore you wouldn't break.

The music thumped through the walls of Trent’s house, vibrating through your chest as you hovered at the edge of the crowded living room. You hated these kinds of parties—too many people, too much noise—but it was Trent’s place, and everyone had shown up. Jude had shown up.

Of course he had.

It was one of your brother’s bests mates. He was laughing with a group of people just across the room, so close, yet worlds away.

You hated that seeing him still twisted your heart, hated that he looked so good, so unbothered, like you hadn’t been wrecked when he walked away from you months ago. He had told you that the distance was going to hurt you, but the one who ended up hurting you was him. You two hadn’t spoken since. Not properly, anyway. But you’d been here before—sharing space, always with Trent in between, always keeping it civil for the sake of everyone.

You tipped your glass back, willing the alcohol to dull the sharp edge of your emotions. Your eyes drifted toward the guy you’d been talking to earlier. Nothing serious. Just a distraction. He was cute, and more importantly, available. A brief smile played on your lips, and you moved to join him in the living room, leaving the bitter knot of emotion behind. For a moment, you let yourself enjoy the game of flirtation, the feeling of reclaiming control.

But you felt it before you saw him. Jude, his presence like a gravitational pull. As soon as the guy got too close, a hand on your arm, you saw him. Jude, out of the corner of your eye—his jaw tight, gaze burning.

"Oi, mate," Jude said, his voice low but firm as he stepped in, placing himself between you and the guy you wanted to shag, blocking him with a casual but unmistakable tension in his posture. "I think you're done here."

Your heart skipped a beat, anger flaring hot. Before you could protest, Trent appeared, a protective shadow beside Jude. Not again, please. Of course, Trent. Always watching, always hovering. You loved him a lot, but right now, you hated his guts. Hated that they were both treating you like something fragile, like you couldn’t make your own choices.

The worst thing was, it was the third time that night.

The guy glanced at Trent, then Jude, clearly uncomfortable. He wasn´t even looking at you anymore. "I didn’t mean any harm, man—"

"Yeah, you did. That´s my little sister" Trent cut in, his voice cold. "You're leaving now."

With one last quick glance at you, the guy mumbled something; probably an apology, and slinked off into the crowd. You stood there, furious, fists clenched at your sides. "What the hell, Jude? Trent?"

Jude’s eyes met yours, the weight of everything unsaid passing between you both. "Y/N, come on, don´t do this," he said quietly, almost too soft to hear over the loud music.

"Do what?" you snapped, taking a step closer. Your chest was tight, your words sharp. "Move on? Because I can’t just stand around waiting for you to stop playing games. You left me, Jude. Remember?"

His gaze dropped, pain flickering behind his eyes, and probably embarrasment due to your brother being there, jjjbut before he could say anything, Trent stepped in. “He’s right, you don’t need a guy,” he said, his voice more gentle than you expected. “You don´t know anything about him. I don't even know where he came from.”

You let out a frustrated breath, your mind reeling from the double wall of protection. You didn’t know whether to scream or cry. Jude stood there, silent, but you saw the tension in his shoulders, the conflict in his expression.

Without another word, you turned on your heel, pushing through the crowd, your skin burning with anger and unspoken feelings. The party roared on, oblivious to the storm that had just passed. Trent and Jude watched you go, and you didn’t have to look back to know they wouldn’t follow.

The rest of the party goes by relatively smoothly. Jude can feel you glaring at him the whole time, practically boring holes into his forehead with your flaming eyes. He winces when the song finishes and he watches you slide through the crowd, storming from the living room.

He shouldn't go to you. He knows he shouldn't. But he does anyway, standing up, avoiding Trent’s attention and hurrying after you. You see him coming so you pick up your pace, thumping up the stairs.

Jude follows faster, only a few steps behind you. You hesitate on the first landing, unsure which room will keep you safest from him.

Then you see the bathroom down the hall and make a break for it, rushing to get to safety with Jude hot on your heels driving you faster and faster.

You slip into the bathroom and go to slam the door shut, but a familiar hand grabs the wood and stops it. You let out an indignant squawk as he barges into the bathroom and shuts the door.

"Get out, Bellingham."

"No," He says firmly, staring down at you irritably. He can't help it, he has to explain himself.

"You know I'm right. That dude was not-

"Fuck off," you interrupt him, your voice raw with anger. "I was so calm talking to him until you both came over like a pair of lunatics."

Jude snaps, replying angrily, "Yes, because throwing yourself desperately at him is calmly talking. He was the third man in the night… "

"And yet, this was the third time that the two of you had no right to interfere. Especially you."

You’re so flippant, so nonchalant about the fact that you could've just been used or hurt by a random guy. Broken. Maybe, without your brother and his constant attention on you during the night, you could’ve committed a mistake. But none of that mattered now, your anger was bigger than your rational thoughts.

Jude clenches his fists, only growing angrier when you say flatly:

"Ben and I should be in my room right now. What a bunch of cockblockers...”

Was it really his name Ben? You couldn’t remember properly.

"I bet Trent would love to hear that from her little sister. Sometimes you forget that not everybody has good intentions.”

His heart sinks when he recognizes a ruthless glint in your eye, your lips quirking when you replie, "He seemed pretty nice. It was the third guy in this party that left scared. Shouldn’t you just give me a list of the ones that you and Trent consider appropriate for me?”

None. He wants to say.

Jude sees red, his hands flying to his hair and tugging in frustration. He turns his back on you, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“I can’t stand to see it. You know that. You do it in front of my eyes.”

"You have no right to be hovering around me scaring the guys that approach me, Jude.”

That's it. What you’ve been waiting all night to happen. At a moment you thought that you weren’t going to see it, but finally, Jude explodes, whirling around and smacking his hand down on the porcelain sink.

This makes you yelp as he yells, "Yes I do! I do have a right. Because I miss you, dammit!"

You stared at him, your lips parted in obvious shock. Your lips. Jude feels his gaze drawn to them like a magnet.

And then you’re both moving, crashing together before either can stop it.

Jude let's out a groan at the contact, his hands grabbing at your hips. Finally. Your breathing hitches when he bites down on your lower lip harshly. He's still mad, still fucking furious with you. You can tell from the way he's kissing you, hot and so needy it makes your knees shake.

You moan when his tongue eagerly slips into your mouth, rediscovering and reclaiming. There's no fighting for dominance—Jude has it already. You surrender to his control, opening up for it greedily. You want this, you need this.

Your hands fly to his shirt tugging and pulling at it until he finally gets the message and pulls away long enough to shrug the shirt off over his head. You grow dizzy at the sight of his muscular torso, your tongue flicking out to wet your swollen lips. It was obvious he'd been training extra hard. What wasn't obvious was the hours Jude spent working out to avoid thinking of you.

He growls low in the back of his throat at the sight of your pupils blown wide. He pulls you back to him, returning his wanting lips to yours. Your hands shake as they slide up over his shoulder blades and the back of his neck.

Jude smirks at the action, giving him plenty of time to slide his lips over his jaw and down to the hollow of your throat. He groans at the feel of you, the taste of your skin. You smell like lavender and the alcohol you´d been drinking. He wants to drown in it. Drown in you.

You gasp when his teeth tug at your skin. He bites and sucks and licks until there is a growing red mark on the side of your throat. Trent is going to kill you both. Your head lolls to the opposite side, weak to his sinful ministrations. Eager for more. Jude licks a stripe from your jaw to the skin under your ear. He pauses when something bumps his nose.

Earrings. The earrings. You still wore them. You still wore the ones that he gifted you.

His heart nearly explodes because maybe this meant it wasn't over, maybe he could undo the things that had been done. His hands fly back into action, untucking your blue t from your jeans and pulling back enough to tug it up over your head.

He lets out a curse when he realizes this whole time you hadn't been wearing a bra. He presses a kiss to your shoulder, waiting before doing anything. Maybe this is a mistake.

You must notice his hesitation, because your cool palms suddenly cup his face and bring his lips back to yours. It's your turn to bite his lip, your teeth playfully nipping at the soft swollen curve of his lower one. The kiss is still angry, hot, and so delicious it makes your toes curl.

No, this was definitely not a mistake.

Jude shakes his head when you try to drop to your knees. He knows what you think he wants. But you’re wrong.

"Turn around," He mumbles huskily, his erection painful in his jeans. He had to have you, he needed to have you.

"No," you scoff, trying to return your lips to his.

"I said turn around," he growls, not missing the way your thighs clench together and your eyes flash. You narrow your eyes but do as you’re told, yelping when Jude pins you front to the sink. Your eyes find yourself in the mirror and you’re taken aback by how needy you look, wanton and hungry. For him. You was always hungry for him.

Jude’s thoughts are disrupted when your ass arches into his cock, making him curse under his breath.

"Fuck, Y/N.”

You smile wickedly at him in the mirror, Jude growing cross at the action. He was in control. He needed to because you’d been slipping through his fingers like sand ever since he went to play to Madrid.

You see the change in him, his eyes darkening sinfully. You gasp and grip the sink tightly when he thrusts against you, your legs shaking from the spark of pleasure.

You were embarrassed, your cheeks turning red when you watch in the mirror as a moan flew from your lips. You try to turn around, but his hands keep you pinned there.

You moan again when you feel his fingers at your front, deftly unbuttoning your pants before slipping his hand inside.

Jude leans his forehead against your back, momentarily breathless from the feeling of your fingers dipping into your slick heat.

"Ju- Jude," you whisper, your eyes fluttering shut as he slowly thrusts one finger in and out of you. It's not enough, not when you knows his cock is just out of reach and can fill you the way you want—need to be.

His hand moves from you core, leaving you feeling empty and on fire with need.

Jude mutters huskily, "Open your eyes. I want you to watch. I want you to see what only I can do to you."

Goosebumps erupt across your skin at his words, your mouth running dry when your pants and panties join the pile of clothes on the floor. Your eyes flicker open, because while you want to tell him to piss off, that he isn't in charge of you any more….you want to see it too.

“You still on the-?” He asks, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“Yes,” you interrupt him immediately.

His belt buckle clinks when he tosses it to the floor. You watch with wide open eyes as he shoves his jeans down just enough to pull his pulsing member out. You run your tongue along your lower lip, your eyes stuck on the spot of the mirror where you can see Jude languidly stroking himself. You want to do it. You go to turn, desperate to hold him in her hand, but Jude reaches up and firmly holds you in place, saying rudely, "Don't."

Your head falls foreword with a gasp when you feel the tip of him teasing your entrance, just barely sliding in before retreating. It was torture. You try desperately to arch back into him, groaning when Jude tuts and stills your hips with his hand.

"Look," He says firmly. You raise your head and stare at Jude in the mirror, your lustfilled gazes locked onto each other as he slowly thrusts into you. Jude swears at the feeling of being inside of you again, moans loudly when you clench around him.

His hand comes around to cup your throat, keeping your head exactly in front of the mirror as he slowly pulls out and thrusts back in. Your knuckles turn white from your grip on the sink, unable to stop the uninhibited moan that tears from your throat. He was filling you so deliciously, so completely in this position. He's slow, but hard and rough in his movements. You cry out when he brushes against that explosive spot within you that has your back arching and your hands scrambling for something better to hold onto.

The contrast of his warm body against your back and the cold sink pressing into you front leaves you breathless.

"Please, Jude," you moan, your head slumping back to rest on his shoulder with your eyes closed. He connects your lips for a harsh, soul shattering kiss. He moans into your open mouth when you circle your hips back on his, trying to get more. The hand that was caressing your throat covers your own that you have pressed against the mirror, his fingers interlocking with yours as he complies with your wishes. He knows what you need.

He thrusts into you faster, harder, the hand not holding yours coming down to grab your hip. You can't make sense of the sounds coming from your own mouth because it's just so good. It's so good with Jude. Because it's the only time you willingly give someone control over your heart, your body.

That familiar warm sensation coils in your lower belly, growing bigger and more warm with each thrust.

"Jude, I-I..." You trail off with a groan, your hips bucking back into his wildly as you approach the peak of arousal, Jude growling huskily in your ear.

"Look, Y/N. Look in the mirror."

It takes all of your strength to open your eyes and lean your head forward, your gaze first finding where your and his hand are locked together, pressed up against the mirror.

Then you find yourself, again shocked by the arousal in your eyes and the poutyness of your swollen lips. You glance up at Jude in the reflection, nearly moaning at how sinful he looks. He commands the energy in the room, his jaw clenched tight as he too fights back his climax. You watch you both now, desperate for this to not end. It was too good.

When his fingers glide across your stomach and dip down to circle your clit your vision goes white, your mouth falling open as a voiceless cry tries to leave you. Jude swears, watching in the mirror as your eyes roll back and your throat bobs and you climax around him, your clenching walls finishing him off and making him groan loudly against your shoulder.

He slumps against you, his arm holding you up as your legs shake against his. He presses a few sloppy kisses to the skin of your back, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to regain his breath.

That is when you realize, what have you done. How you have fallen again in this loop. Or how you’d let yourself be touched by the man that left you not so long ago shattered.

"Y/N," He whispers hoarsely, taking in your pink cheeks and cloudy gaze. Lust turns to fear as you quickly separate your hands and bodies, scrambling to pull on your clothes.

Jude feels fear tighten in his chest too, because you’re pulling away faster than he can reel you in.

"Y/N, wait-

The bathroom door slams shut as you flee, barely dressed before disappearing. Your entire body is hot as you can still feel his touch and shame washes over you. You run to one of the bedrooms, hoping Trent doesn’t find you. But most of all, hoping Jude will get out of your mind once and for all.