#i just know they had to practice this like 3 times

[amiableness]

Peonies ; part five

Pairing: Theo Nott x Fem!Reader

Summary: Everything is a mess after Mattheo visits the infirmary.

Word Count: 3833

Warnings: Unrequited love. The chapter is just full on angst, honestly. Mentions of drugging? Y/n is used once. Let me know if there’s more!

A/N 💌 This is short and mainly focuses on Mattheo, but the next (and final!) chapter will be even more satisfying because of it. Even though a lot of you are mad at Mattheo, hopefully this makes up for it. As usual thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me feedback, I don't know what I'd do without you.

SERIES MASTERLIST <3

“I don’t understand. He seemed fine when I left.” Theo mutters under his breath, his voice tense and barely audible over the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps bouncing off the stone walls as the three of you head to the infirmary.

“I don’t know,” Pansy sighs, her voice low and laced with frustration. “Everything seemed normal when I first got there, but then he just… snapped. It didn’t seem like anyone had said anything to set him off; everyone looked just as shocked as I was. He was so worked up—angry, completely irrational—that we all decided to take him to the infirmary. We thought maybe he’d hit his head or something.”

“But he didn’t.” You mutter, a sinking feeling settling in your stomach as Pansy’s words echo in your mind. A love potion. Veronica’s been giving him a love potion. The thought replays, each repetition tightening the knot in your chest.

“No. It didn’t take long for Madam Pomfrey to realize he’d been given a love potion. One so badly brewed that it’s been fucking with his emotions.”

Pansy shakes her head, her expression twisted in frustration. “Veronica came in, putting on her best worried girlfriend act. When I first confronted her about a love potion, she played innocent, swearing up and down she’d never hurt him because she ‘loved’ him.” Pansy scoffs, anger simmering in her eyes. “But after enough yelling, she finally admitted it. She’d been giving him a potion, and things only went wrong because she tried to make it stronger—his feelings had started shifting, and she couldn’t stand it.”

A wave of sickness washes over you—anger and frustration curling together in a tight knot. For a moment, you consider darting to the right, heading straight for the restrooms to lose control in private, but you force yourself to steady your breath. This isn’t the time to fall apart.

For a brief, unsettling moment, you wonder if that’s why he confessed his feelings for you—not because he meant it, but because of the love potion’s influence. The thought stirs something confusing and hollow inside you, but now isn’t the time to untangle it. As you step into the infirmary, nerves coil tight in your stomach, but Theo’s hand slips into yours giving a reassuring squeeze, soothing you. You’re grateful for the touch—it’s the only thing keeping your anxiety from overwhelming you entirely.

“How is he?” Pansy asks, her voice tense as she strides ahead of you and Theo, reaching out to take Blaise’s hand. Draco and Enzo are there too, still in their practice clothes, looking out of place in the sterile, quiet room. Madam Pomfrey is nowhere in sight, but your eyes immediately catch the vial on the table next to him—whatever it is, it’s been left there, untouched for now.

You glance at Draco, casually leaning against a pillar near Mattheo’s bed, and Enzo, perched on the edge of the bed parallel to him. Neither of them looks particularly worried, which eases some of the tension in your chest. In fact, Draco seems to be listening intently as Enzo quietly details the reasons he’s been feeling off about Veronica. 

Then you finally allow your eyes to shift to the bed, where Mattheo lies back, his curls a wild tangle against the pillow. Dark circles shadow his eyes, and you can’t help but wonder if the love potion is to blame. His brow is furrowed, his gaze fixed on Enzo with a look of confusion, as though he’s struggling to piece something together.

“A little out of it,” Blaise says with a gentle smile, his eyes softening. “Pomfrey gave him something to counteract the potion.” He glances over Pansy’s head and spots you, offering a sympathetic smile your way. “He’s been asking for you.”

“I don’t know..” You trail off, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of how Mattheo will react to seeing you. The last couple of months had clearly been tense and distant between you two—what was stopping him from starting another argument? The last thing he needed right now was more stress. But at the end of the day, he was your friend—he had been for years. What kind of friend would you be if you turned down his request to see you, especially when he asked for you specifically?

But it's too late to make a decision—Mattheo’s eyes shift, locking onto you. It’s immediate, the way he sits up slightly, his eyes brightening with recognition, and a loopy smile forming on his lips. “Hi, my love,” he says, his voice soft and warm as if nothing else matters in the room. 

Draco and Enzo both turn their heads toward you and for a moment, you stand frozen, your lips parted as you scramble for the right words. 

My love. 

It’s hard to know how to respond to that, and your friends don’t seem any more certain, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo as they exchange uneasy glances.

You take a step forward, letting go of Theo’s hand as you approach the edge of Mattheo’s bed. A twinge of guilt runs through you as you release his hand, but you push it aside, not wanting Mattheo to see the two of you together yet. Not in this state.

“Hi,” you murmur, your voice soft. Theo watches as Mattheo pats the spot next to him, an unspoken plea in his gesture, hoping you’ll come and lie beside him. Theo prays—desperately—that you won’t, that you’ll stay exactly where you are. It already hurts more than he can bear to have you let go of his hand, but if you climb into bed with Mattheo, it’ll feel like you’ve ripped his heart from his chest. And the thought of Mattheo calling you ‘my love’—he can’t even bring himself to think about it.

“The love potion must still be lingering in his system,” Draco mutters, his gaze flicking toward Theo. “That explains why he’s been so jealous of you two. Veronica messed up the potion so badly, he ended up falling for Y/n instead.”

The rhythmic click of Madam Pomfrey’s shoes fills the room as she enters. “The effects of the love potion have worn off, Mr. Malfoy,” she says crisply, her voice professional. “Whatever he says now is simply how he truly feels.” With a swift movement, she places a bowl on the bedside table, setting a cool cloth on Mattheo’s forehead with a practical, “For the fever.”

Mattheo flinches at the shock of the cool, damp cloth on his forehead, shooting Madam Pomfrey an irritated look, which she ignores entirely.

“Fever?” Enzo questions, and she gives a swift nod.

“As I mentioned, the effects have worn off,” she explains, “but his body still needs time to purge the potion from his system, which is why he has a fever. It should break by morning, and he’ll be back to himself.”

Madam Pomfrey dips the cloth back into the water, preparing to place it on Mattheo’s forehead again, but he turns his head, ducking away. Her gaze shifts to you, and she extends the cloth with a small, knowing smile. “Perhaps it would be best if you handled this.”

Part of you wants to tell her you can’t. It feels wrong to tend to Mattheo, especially with Theo standing right there. A few months ago, you’d have agreed without a second thought. But things are different now—distant and messy in ways you don’t quite understand. Still, with Madam Pomfrey watching you so expectantly and now Mattheo’s gaze fixed intently on you, saying no feels impossible.

So, you step forward, taking the cloth from her hand before carefully settling onto the edge of his bed. Leaning in, you dab his forehead gently, your movements cautious and deliberate. Mattheo watches you intently, but you keep your gaze firmly on the task, avoiding his eyes as you work. 

“You know,” Mattheo murmurs, his voice soft and a little slurred, “I think you’re perfect.” For a moment, you freeze, your eyes darting to meet his.

“Oh.” It’s all you manage, the word slipping out as you quickly refocus on dabbing his forehead, ignoring the warmth spreading through your veins. Embarrassment prickles over you, knowing your friends are standing there, their whispered reactions confirming they heard every word Mattheo said. But when you glance up and catch Theo’s expression, your heart sinks—he heard it too.

Theo meets your gaze, and you silently hope he understands—you’re sorry. Sorry that you’re the one Mattheo wants right now, and that if you could pass this task to Enzo, you would. But guilt tugs at you, knowing that Mattheo’s emotions have been chaotic because of the love potion. Could you truly hold his actions against him?

Mattheo’s fingers brush lightly against your wrist, drawing your attention back to him. His gaze is unwavering, soft with a raw vulnerability that you’ve rarely seen in him. “You’re so perfect,” He repeats. “And I’ve only ever wanted to be good enough for you.” His fingers brush against your skin, and you freeze—shock, guilt, and frustration rising within you. You swallow it all down, forcing yourself to keep calm as you murmur for him to rest, resuming your task of blotting his forehead.

Theo watches as you continue to take care of Mattheo, who continues to brush his fingers against your free hand as he looks up at you as if you’re the only girl he’s ever loved. A wave of nausea rises in Theo as he watches his best friend touch you, gaze at you as if you’re an angel—the girl he loves so fiercely it hurts. His jaw clenches, a subconscious effort to keep his mouth shut and prevent himself from snapping at Mattheo to keep his hands off you. He knows he has no right to be jealous—not when you were never truly his to begin with.

The thought hits him so hard and painfully that he feels like he can’t breathe. Without a word, he turns and walks out of the infirmary, and no matter how badly he wants to turn and look at you, he doesn’t.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

By the next morning, Mattheo is back to himself—at least, that’s what everyone’s been saying. Theo knows this because it’s all anyone can talk about. He’s not sure how the news spread so fast, but he’s willing to bet Pansy had something to do with it. Not intentionally, of course; he just knows she tends to speak loudly when she’s worked up, and he’s been aware of her suspicions about Veronica for months. You’d told him all about how Pansy had been convinced something was off with Veronica, but you hadn’t wanted to get into the details.

After spending the entire morning catching snippets of gossip, Theo decided the library would be his refuge for some peace and quiet. For a while, the back corner had offered him just that—until two girls settled on the other side of the bookshelf. Unfortunately, that meant he could hear every word they said, and it didn't take long for their chatter to break the silence he'd been craving.

“Did you hear about Mattheo Riddle?” An eager voice asked, accompanied by the screech of a chair being dragged out.

“You mean how his girlfriend slipped him a love potion?” Came the bored reply, the words dripping with indifference.

“Uh huh,” Theo pictures the first girl nodding. “I’m not surprised though.”

“Amelia,” The second voice sighed. “That’s an awful thing to say.”

“I just mean because even when he was with Veronica, he was still chasing after Y/n.” Theo feels his stomach drop, the urge to get up and leave washing over him. He starts to pack his bag, his movements quick and automatic, but then their next words slow his movements. He freezes, his hands stilling midair—he’s listening closely now.

“I thought she was dating Theo Nott.” The second girl speaks, her voice tinged with confusion, clearly already tired of the conversation.

“I think that’s just a rumor.” Amelia denies, and even though she's technically right, Theo feels a surge of defensiveness rise within him.

“Oh,” Girl two murmurs. “I could’ve sworn they were.”

Amelia hums, “No, I think she’ll end up with Mattheo.”

That pushes Theo into motion. He hastily stuffs everything into his bag, determination flooding through him, though his stomach twists with nerves. He has to tell you how he feels. He wants a chance—even if you choose Mattheo, at least he’ll never have to wonder what might have been between you two.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

When Theo finally spots you, he wishes he’d stayed in the library. You’re sitting on one of the couches, your back turned to him, but he can tell by the open book beside you—left unread—that you’ve long since lost focus. But that isn’t what bothers him.

No, the real problem is Mattheo, seated right beside you, facing you fully, his gaze intense and longing, “Please, love.”

“Mattheo—”

“If there’s even a part of you that feels something for me, just give me a chance,” Mattheo says, his voice low, edging closer to you. Theo’s stomach tightens as he watches. “I know I should’ve told you sooner—before any of this.”

“It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” you murmur, your eyes drifting to Mattheo. “I think you need to focus on resting, clearing your head before we can figure any of this out.”

“I’ve got a clear head, love,” he insists, his voice steady despite the weight of it all. You sigh, your gaze dropping for a moment. 

“Honestly,” he continues, his words softer, “you’re the only thing I’ve ever been clear-headed about.”

You fall silent for a moment, your gaze fixed on the flickering flames in the fireplace. Theo watches Mattheo watch you, a quiet tension in the air. He’s thankful for the shadows that stretch across the room, hiding his frame, because if they didn’t, Mattheo would no doubt see him standing there.

Mattheo whispers your name, his voice heavy with longing and desperation, the sound so raw it nearly knocks Theo off balance—mirroring the same ache that's tearing through him. “If you were mine…” Mattheo pauses, his gaze locked on yours. “I swear, I’d never give you a reason to regret it.”

Theo fights the overwhelming urge to make himself known, to grab your hand and plead with you to choose him instead. He’d fall to his knees and beg if it meant even the slightest chance with you—though he knows you’d never have to ask. He’d do it willingly, without hesitation, dropping down and promising you the world if only you’d agree to be his. 

He wants to tell you to remember these past few months, to think of last night’s kiss. To tell you he’s certain he fell in love with you the moment he saw you—that every vision he has of the future has you at the center of it.

But instead, he watches, a cold sense of dread settling in his chest, as you slowly reach out and intertwine your fingers with Mattheo’s. You don’t say anything, but it’s clear to him that words aren’t necessary—because at this moment, he realizes he has never stood a chance.

It was always going to be Mattheo.

It feels like a cruel echo of last night��that same sinking realization that no matter how hard he tries, he’ll never be what you want. It feels like he can’t get a proper breath in, so he turns and leaves, unwilling to stay and hear just how deeply your heart belongs to Mattheo.

He hadn’t seen your face, but if he had, he would’ve noticed the unease and discomfort in your expression as you turn to look at Mattheo, preparing yourself to turn him down as gently as possible.

“Mattheo, I can’t,” you whisper, your voice soft but steady as you squeeze his hand. The words come slowly, carefully, as if you’re afraid of shattering him. “I really can’t, and I’m sorry.”

He swallows hard, his jaw tightening as he looks away, frustration flickering in his eyes. When his gaze returns to you, it’s filled with a quiet vulnerability. “If I’d made a move… before all of this,” he asks softly, “would you have said yes?”

“Yes,” you admit softly. He sits up straighter, and you can already see the determination flickering in his eyes, ready to argue, ready to convince you. But you press on before he can speak. “But everything is different, Mattheo—Veronica, us drifting apart...” You pause, your voice faltering. “...Theo.” You roll your lips together, trying to suppress the wave of emotion that just saying Theo’s name stirs inside you.

Mattheo sighs, a subtle shake of his head as his gaze drops to your intertwined fingers, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. He watches it with a quiet intensity, as if he’s trying to memorize the feel of it, and your heart cracks at the sight, the ache of it almost too much to bear.

“I’m sure you knew,” You start, embarrassment coloring your tone. “For the longest time, I had feelings for you. I spent so much time hoping—wishing—that you'd feel the same. That you'd stop with the one-night stands and realize that you wanted me just as much as I wanted you. I was convinced, you know? Convinced that because I understood you better than anyone, or at least I thought I did, that you’d finally feel safe enough with me to let me in.”

“But I did,” he says, his voice thick with regret. “The whole time, I wanted you. But Gods, the way Theo’s always looked at you... I couldn’t make a move. I knew it would tear him apart if we got together. So I waited, told myself I was giving him time to make his move—but he never did. I built myself up, so many times, ready to ask you out, to make you mine. But then I’d always freeze, thinking, ‘What if things don’t work out?’ And I’d lose both of my best friends.”

He shakes his head, refusing to meet your gaze. “But then Veronica started giving me that potion, and I—I had feelings for her, but every time I’d see you, it was like that’s all I could focus on. And then suddenly, you’re with Theo, holding his hand, spending the night with him, and it felt like I was losing my mind. It hurt, seeing you with him. And maybe it’s selfish, but I had to know, had to see if there was any chance left with you. Because watching you two together made me realize that what I was really afraid of was losing you completely.”

You’re at a loss for words, your mind failing to catch up to the fact that Theo has feelings for you- and he has for years. So you offer Mattheo a weak, sad smile, the tears gathering at your lashes threatening to spill over. He squeezes your hand, and you sigh, squeezing it back. You’re both sat in the quiet common room, except for your occasional sniffle, for who knows how long, holding each others hand and watching the flames dance.

Mattheo clears his throat, a slight tension in his shoulders as he glances over at you, “When are you going to tell him you love him?”

You hesitate, a knot forming in your throat as your words trip over themselves. “I don’t—I’m not…” You falter, but Mattheo sends you a knowing look. “It’s just... too soon.”

“It’s not.” His voice is firm. 

“How do you know?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it, and immediately, guilt lances through you. It feels wrong to ask, especially after he’s just laid his feelings bare.

“Because he’s been in love with you for years,” Mattheo smiles, but it’s nothing you’ve ever seen from him before. “Trust me, it’s not going to be too soon for him to hear.”

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

He’s on his way to practice when your voice cuts through the quiet hum of the common room, calling his name. His stomach sinks, the realization hitting hard—he’s going to have to face you after days of successfully keeping his distance. Reluctantly, he turns toward you, and there you are, seated comfortably in one of the plush chairs near the fire. A sweet smile on your lips, and resting on your lap is a book—likely the same one he noticed you holding when you were talking to Mattheo. That puts a bitter taste in his mouth.

There’s something different about you. His gaze lingers, tracing the way the soft flicker of the flames paints your features in warm, golden light. You look gorgeous, as always, but there’s an unmistakable lightness about you now, a brightness that wasn’t there before. A taunting thought creeps into his mind: this is his doing. You look happier—because you’ve finally gotten everything you’ve ever wanted. Mattheo Riddle.

“I haven’t seen you much.” You say, leaning forward as he slowly walks towards you.

He shrugs, slipping his hands into his pockets with a casual ease that doesn’t quite match the tension in his voice. “Yeah, I’ve got a lot going on.”

You knew this already. Every time you asked the boys about him, there was always a new excuse for why he hadn’t been around: He’s behind on his assignments. He’s gotten detention. He isn’t feeling well. He’s taking a nap. 

“So I’ve heard.” You say lightly, teasingly. “I actually wanted to know if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade, since we didn’t last time.” A soft smile curves at the memory of him taking you to the flower field.

You saw the look on his face that day, the way he was clearly bothered by you taking care of Mattheo. But you figured spending time together would be the perfect opportunity to set things straight. To tell him it meant nothing, that you turned Mattheo down, and that all you truly want is him. It’s a surprisingly good feeling, better than you imagined, knowing that Mattheo is aware of your feelings for Theo—and that he actually encouraged you to go for it.

His eyes meet yours briefly before darting away, and he rakes a hand through his hair, a nervous edge to the motion. “Oh, uh... I can’t.”

“Oh, okay.” You respond, your voice barely hiding the disappointment. An awkward silence settles between you, and Theo avoids your gaze, leaving you sitting there, a little wounded.

“Actually, dolcezza,” he says softly, and your heart flutters at the familiar nickname, hope sparking in your chest. But then his next words land like a blow. “I can’t spend time with you anymore.”

Your heart sinks, the statement feels like a bucket of cold water to the face. “What?” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

“I’m glad you’re happy,” he continues, his tone heavy with sincerity, “but I can’t be around you the way we were before. Not when you’re with him.”

please please please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write, and reblogs help to spread my work. likes don't spread posts on tumblr 🤍

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part IV

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

playlist, part I, part II, part III

Warnings: smut and i mean FILTHY OK, toxic!paige, kinda cheating, language, etc.

Wordcount: 7.4k (sorry but there's smut ok)

A/N: TY for being so patient with me, i've been feeling sick but slowly getting better and finally got this done. finally some fluff for y'all. also please leave feedback/live reactions I LOVE THAT SHIT! ok enjoy guys mwah <3

-

“You’re joking, right Paige?” A frustrated voice comes through the speaker as I lean back on the couch, spreading my legs to find a more comfortable position. The game of fortnite me, Aubrey and Ice had been planning on for like a week was turned down, not wanting the phone’s mic picking up the sounds.

“‘M afraid not,” I mumble into the phone, biting my lower lip in concentration. I was so close to getting a kill if I could just finally hang up, but here I still was, fifteen minutes of going back and forth on some topic that didn’t need all this drama with a girl whose last name I’d forgotten.

“But it’s my birthday,” Clara whines into my ear. Watching my character get killed, I groan and tilt my head back, throwing the controller onto my grey sweats.

“I know, baby. Look we can do a lil something next week, lemme make it up to you,” I say into the phone, needing to get this girl to get off my ass. “I promise.” I didn’t mean that though, it was just empty words.

Truth was I just needed some time, after what happened the other night with Valerie I had felt my thoughts chipping away at me. The things running through my head had made sleeping impossible and practice even worse. The lack of control I felt when she was around me was terrifying. I needed a night just with my girls, badly.

I felt tense, distracted.

“Clara, whatchu want me to do? it's an emergency.”

To get away from Clara’s plans for the night Aubrey and Ice had helped me to come up with an elaborate lie about me “pulling a muscle in my wrist and it needed resting”. I hadn’t found it as believable but for Clara it worked.

The girl’s soft sigh comes through the phone. “Fine, ok. But you gotta make it up to me.”

“I will I will,” I mumble, unaware of what I’m really saying, stuffing my mouth with a fistful of popcorn from a bowl on the couch. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Ice lets out a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth as I give her a scolding look, pointing to the phone. Thankfully Clara doesn’t hear a thing.

As the new game begins I quickly grab the controller from my grey sweats, I needed to wrap up this call quick.

“I wish you’d let me come take ca-”

“Gotta go Clara, happy birthday,” I yell hurriedly into the phone before Clara could even finish, hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the couch which makes Aubrey and Ice snicker.

-

“Bro you suck at this game!” I yell at Aubrey who looks at me offended.

“Nah, that wasn’t my fault!! It was Ice!!” she scoffs.

The ringing of my phone interrupts the conversation. Before I can pick it up, or even complain about Clara getting clingy, the sound stops. Not to sound too cocky or like a piece of shit but if it was one of the girls on my roster, that ringing wouldn’t have stopped for a minute. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the power I had over some of these chicks, how they stayed up till 4am just to see if I called them up. They didn’t need to let me know it’s what they did, I knew all too well.

I grab my phone and quickly unlock it. With wide eyes and heart fluttering, I dial back.

“Paige I thought we were gonna have a girls’ night,” Aubrey groans but my finger comes up to shush her when I hear a soft voice come through the phone.

“Hey?” 

“Valerie?” I ask, I can barely hear her from the loud traffic nearly burying the sound of her voice.

“Wh- why are you callin’ me?” she asks, her words are slurred enough to let me know she’s drunk. Even so, hearing her sweet voice might as well have been a choir of angels singing. 

“You called me, mama,” I chuckle softly, walking away from the girls to hear better.

There’s a moment of silence between us as I slide into my own dorm room, closing the door behind me, leaning against it. 

“Oh… uh I was trying to call Paige,” she murmurs and loudly gasps. I can hear her slapping her own mouth and a cocky smirk grows on my face. “JAY, JAY I WAS. I was trying to call Jay.”

The bite on my lower lip stuffles the laugh I let out. Honestly, it made me feel a little smug knowing she said my name instead of hers. I wonder if I was really on her mind that much. It had been quite a long time since I had wondered anything like that.

“Ohh right… Justine,” I joke, the name making me giggle each time. This time, Valerie giggles too. 

“Don’t make fun P.”

“Alright alright,” I chuckle walking over to my bed and sitting down on it, pulling down my sweats a little so my boxers peak out. Faint screaming in the background of the call reminds me of why Val called in the first place - she’s drunk. “Woah, where you at Val?”

A deep sigh comes through the phone. “I dunno where my friends went, they were my rideee,” she whines, the sound of the cars making it hard to hear her. I lean forward resting my elbow on the knees.

“Did you call ‘em?” I ask, concerned over how drunk she was. How could her friends just dip? I’m gonna need to have a word with them.

“I’m nodding,” she slurs out and groans frustratedly. “Such a long way to walk,” Valerie whines again.

I’m already reaching for my keys when the words come out of my mouth. “Drop your location Val.”

She groans. “I’m walking by the highway.”

“You’re WHAT?” I yell into the phone, throwing on a puffer vest over my grey sweatshirt, struggling to get my shoes on. This girl was gonna get herself killed I swear.

“Relaaxxx.”

“Sit down and drop your location, I’m comin to get you ma.”

“Paige you’re so dr-”

“Sit your ass down. I’m so forreal now Valerie.” I command, without even waving a careless bye to the girls as I rush out, the plans for a girl’s night quickly forgotten. After a whine and a sigh from the drunk girl on the line I hear her set herself onto the ground.

“Fine,” her voice murmurs and I sigh in relief.

All of the fury I felt at her for being so careless goes away when I see her, in boots and a leather jacket thrown carelessly over her skimpy dress, sitting on the ground playing with the ends of her golden brown hair. I pull the car over, quickly rushing to her. How could her friends leave her in a state like that? From now on I should watch over her all the time, just to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.

Nevermind her friends, how could Jay let this happen? If Valerie was my girl she would not be alone like this, yet alone going out without me at all. She needs someone who takes care of her, who truly cherishes every single thing about her. 

“Paigeyyy,” she smiles as I reach down and pick her up, her hair was a mess and eyes bloodshot and tired. There’s a strong smell of alcohol as Valerie wraps her arms around me, but I don’t mind. I wanted to be mad at her for being so irresponsible, for making me come get her. But I couldn’t be.

I grin as I help steady her. Anyone could notice she’s gleaming looking up at me. Usually that would make my chest tighten, make me feel sick and claustrophobic. Now, for some reason, I felt like gleaming too.

“C’mon silly girl, before you get in more trouble,” I murmur, opening the door and making sure she gets in the car, helping her with the seatbelt.

“I got it Paige,” she laughs as I reach over her lap, grabbing the belt but I slap her hand away gently, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the way I wanted to smile, the butterflies growing inside me.

“Lemme do it ma,” I tell her hoarsely. She’s grinning at me stupidly as I buckle her in, my fingers running along her neck to fix the belt. When our eyes meet just for a moment, it takes every bit of my self discipline not to kiss her, the way her tongue slides over her lips enticingly.

The drive back is quiet, soft R&B the only sound filling the car. I hum along to the songs, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. Valerie watches as she rests her head against the seat. An involuntary smirk takes over my face, my eyes flicking from her to the road to my speed. I was driving much more carefully as usual, I had something precious to take home.

“You admirin’ the view?” I tease earning a lighthearted scoff from Valerie.

“No I’m… thinking,” she explains slowly, moving her eyes to the road too. Suddenly she wasn’t so giggly, but seemed to be sobering up.

“I got some water in the back if you need,” I tell her, already reaching for it, other hand on the wheel as I lean back on the driver’s seat.

She reaches for it with me, our fingertips brushing against each other as I hand it over. “Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a few big gulps.

Valerie’s shoulders slump as she takes a deep sigh, I know her well enough that something was clearly on her mind. 

“I lied P,” she says, her voice small. For a moment a wave of confusion washes over me, and I look at her expectantly. My first assumption is she’s talking about what happened between us in the bathroom, about how she hadn’t told Jay about it.

“‘S okay Justine don’t have to know,” I quickly console but Valerie is shaking her head.

“No I meant… Fuck, I mean I did mean to call you,” she let’s out, frustrated. “It wasn’t an accident.”

I swallow, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks. Was I… blushing? I must be more whipped than I realised.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, my tone a little too needy for my liking - I didn’t want her to think, no, to know I cared. That it mattered to me. Valerie could never know how I felt. I would just end up fucking everything up, at least now I had basketball. That’s enough.

“I just… I dunno I don’t wanna go to my dorm,” Valerie sighs, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Jay’s waiting for me,” Valerie says with a slight shake in her voice.

Oh. 

At first I’d been more jealous than I’d like to admit, the idea of Valerie, my Valerie, with someone else made me sick. But running into them at that party I knew Justine could never do what I could. But most importantly, Valerie didn’t shine the way she did with me with Justine. I had an inkling there was nothing to be jealous of, and got my confirmation in the bathroom. But now, I only felt more validated. She didn’t even want to be around her. She drunk called me, not her.

“‘S that why you got so fucked up? Because of Jay?” I try to sound nonchalant, like I didn’t care. But I needed to know for sure. I needed to know I wasn’t delusional in thinking she couldn’t just move on from me, from us.

“Something like that,” she chuckles and shifts in the seat, sipping her water still. Without thinking it through, what it might mean, what it says about my feelings, the words slip out.

“I can take you to mine,” I suggest, knowing full well my biggest rule was not letting girls sleep over. I guess my rules had gone way out the window with Valerie.

She scoffs and shakes her head, my heart aching at her disapproval. “No P, it can’t happen anymore, I mean it this time.”

A scoff leaves my mouth as I pull up to the campus parking lot.

“I didn’t mean that dumbass, I mean just to sleep,” I groan, parking my jeep. “I’ll even sleep on the floor.”

Valerie looks at me wide eyed and dumbfounded. Guess I wasn’t coming off as nonchalant as I’d have liked. I felt a strange feeling grow inside me that I could only call nervousness. It had been a while since a girl had made me feel anything even close to it.

“Okay,” Val nods and a wave of relief takes over me - I didn’t want her to go yet. Being with her felt good.

“Okay,” I repeat watching her start getting out of the car. I do the same and we head towards my dorm. Without thinking about it much, my hand wraps around her waist, whether to hold her up or to touch her I’m not sure.

Jana and Allie are in the kitchen talking, their heads peeking out when we come in the door. Meeting their gazes I realise I have never introduced a girl to my teammates.

“Yo, uh, this is Valerie,” I say a little awkwardly, the new situation making me unsure of how to act. Allie and Jana share a look that I pray the drunk brunette clinging to my arm didn’t notice. Looking down I see she’s too busy struggling getting her shoes off. Without thinking about it, I kneel down and my fingers unbuckle the strappy heeled sandals she was wearing, my touch on her skin tender and careful.

“Hey girl,” Jana says intrigued, waving her hand at us. As Valerie nearly trips, she lets out a loud giggle, my hand gripping her thigh, steadying her.

“Whoa there,” I chuckle, standing up from the ground as the brunette slaps her face with her hand, bashfully.

“I’m sorry I make a much better first impression when I’m not drunk,” her sweet voice lets out and somewhere deep down I feel my heart flutter at the idea of her wanting to make a good impression on my friends. Jana and Allie both let out friendly laughs as I guide Valerie towards my room.

“She’s gonna sleep here tonight, that cool?” I ask as we pass my roomies, who are both nodding but clearly shocked at the prospect of me letting a girl sleep over.

I bring the brunette to my room by her hips, closing the door behind us as she throws herself face first onto my purple sheets. She looked good like that, in my room, on my bed, burying her nose into my blanket. For a fleeting moment I let myself dream of an alternate universe where she could be here waiting for me, all the time. Only for a moment though.

“C’mon ma let’s get you ready for bed,” I suggest softly, walking to the bed. She groans and flips onto her back, my eyes flickering to her upper thighs where her dress had hiked up. A sudden need to touch her comes over me, but I push it away. It wouldn’t be right like this.

“But your bed’s so comfyyy,” Valerie lets out a whine as she stretches, her pretty eyes fluttering shut. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face, my heart aching at how cute she looked like this - drunk and tired, mascara flaking underneath her eyes and a small pout on her lips.

Throwing her a navy blue Uconn shirt to sleep in is finally enough to get her to sit back up, her eyelids half closed as her hands start pulling her dress down.

With wide eyes I quickly turn my back to her, staring at the wall. As much as I wanted to, it didn't feel right to watch her change. Valerie only giggles, and I hear her stand up and shimmy out of her clothes, my mouth growing dry from the filthy thoughts in my head right now, the way she was completely bare behind me.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before P,” she says teasingly and I almost groan, my mind jumping through memories of the way she looked in just a pair of panties, the curve of her ass, the way her tits sat pretty on her body, that long golden brown hair trailing down her back. Fuck. I felt myself getting wet. I rub my jaw frustratedly, trying to shake my dirty thoughts.

“Just get dressed Val,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with need. Finally, she obliges, throwing on the t-shirt I gave her. It’s not enough to stop my filthy thoughts, seeing her in my shirt and a pair of white lacy panties, thick thighs all on display, nipples hard and visible through the shirt. No. This wasn’t the time.

Valerie is about to crash back into the bed right when I grab her waist to keep her upright.

“Wanna sleep,” she whines as I guide her towards the bathroom.

“I know ma, in a little bit I promise,” I nearly whisper. It was the first time in my life I had promised anything to a girl and meant it.

Closing the bathroom door, I sit Valerie on the counter, her feet dangling off the edge which makes me smile. Grabbing a brand new toothbrush I try to hand it to Valerie, but her head is almost nodding, eyes completely shut now. This girl would be the death of me.

I wet the toothbrush, and gently holding her face, I brush her teeth. My face is only inches from hers as I watch her start to smile, realising what I was doing. For a moment her eyes flicker open and meet mine, and I feel something I have never felt before. I can’t name it, or quite place it, but the warmth in my chest, the blush on my cheeks and the way my breath hitched made itself known.

“Thank you,” Valerie murmurs, her mouth full of foam. She spits it into the sink, rinsing her mouth as I hold her hair, so incredibly softly, as to not hurt or disturb her.

“Let’s get this makeup off mama,” I say mostly to myself, wiping it all off with some micellar water, trying to be as gentle as I could. Her brown eyes roam my face, making me feel flustered.

“What about my skincare routine?” Valerie asks with a furrow of her brows and I chuckle, shaking my head, going over her face with a cotton pad.

“You don’t want me doin’ that, trust,” I murmur as I’m finally done. Watching her, the way her long dark lashes fluttered, her plump lips and soft skin made a shiver run down my spine. She must’ve been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even more so like this.

I suddenly notice that my hands are rubbing on the skin of her bare thighs as she watches up at me. I can’t help myself when I lean down and press my lips against her forehead, the tenderness of it making my eyes close. Valerie hums and wraps her arms around my neck, her legs doing the same as I pick her up like that, holding her up by her thighs. Her skin was soft and warm underneath my fingertips, sending sparks all over me. 

I carry her to my bed as she clings to me, gently laying her down on my bed and tucking the blanket over her, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

“I’mma get you some water and go sleep on the couch ok?” I murmur, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her hands urgently grab my wrist and pull me closer.

“Don’t go,” she whispers and my heart nearly breaks at the way her voice sounds, pleading. 

“You sure Val?” I ask carefully.

“Please.”

It doesn’t take more than that to have me throwing off my clothes, leaving me in black boxers and a Nike sports bra and climbing into bed next to her. I carefully lay my head down onto the pillow, studying her features. The curve of her nose, the way her eyebrows arched, the hint of red on her cheeks from the alcohol. Her eyes flicker open, meeting mine as we stare at each other in the dim room. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face, and she inches her head closer, our noses brushing against each other. I nearly whimper at how good it felt, being this close to her.

My blue eyes travel to her lips, the way they glistened as her tongue brushed over them, the way her lower lip was that much more plump than the upper one. In the haze of the night, it’s like I’m outside of my body, unable to control myself when I lean in and kiss her. Immediately Valerie hums, and I think I’m in heaven when her mouth opens to move against mine.

We had kissed plenty of times. But it was never without fucking afterwards. This was completely new, kissing just because. I didn’t know kissing with no end goal could feel this good. I breathe heavy and loud through my nose as our lips move against each other, Valerie’s hand pulling me closer from the back of my neck. My hand on her waist slides underneath the t-shirt and I press my body flush against hers. I feel all of her, the bare skin of her legs wrapping into mine, her breasts against me. But it’s enough for me. Just to have her like this. 

“P?” Valerie whispers, as I nuzzle my nose against her, breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah?” I murmur softly, the overwhelming warmth in my chest feeling dizzying.

“I-” she hesitates. “I know you don’t… like when girls spend the night-”

I stop her with a kiss, more for my own sake than hers. It might drive me insane if I have to think about it for longer than ten seconds. The way I was bending all my own rules, the feelings deep inside me. I felt terrified. I didn’t wanna think about it right now.

“You needed me Val,” I whisper against her lips, knowing it wouldn’t be a solution but that explanation would do. It’s not like I was in love, but I did care about her to an extent I guess. And I would never let her be in danger. Ever. I helped because I wanted her safe and because deep down I was a good person. But it has nothing to do with love.

I wrap my arms around the girl next to me, pulling her face into the crook of my neck, her leg swinging over my waist and nuzzling into me. I gently run my hand up and down her back until I feel her go limp in my arms and just for a second I let myself inhale the scent of her, my nose buried into her hair. Maybe, just maybe, if I wasn’t Paige Bueckers, if I wasn’t me, this might have had something to do with love.

-

As the morning sun shines in through the window I feel myself stir awake, immediately met with a pounding in my head as my eyes flutter open. I feel a tight grip around my waist, holding me tight. For a moment I get the uneasy feeling that it’s Jay, but then I hear the light snore of Paige in my ear. Warmth spreads all over my body when I feel her pull me closer in her sleep, her nose pressed against the back of my neck.

A soft smile spreads on my face as I remember last night, Paige picking me up, driving me back, taking care of me, letting me stay over. My stomach fills with butterflies knowing this isn’t what Paige did for any girl. The only thing that mattered to her was ball and that’s it. Girls were just a distraction, something fun to do. But she didn’t care, right? Then why did it feel like she did, when she took care of me last night?

An incredible thirst from my hungover takes over, and I carefully peel Paige’s hand from my waist. Thinking I was sneaky enough to make my escape, I start to climb out of the bed when the strong arm quickly pulls me back down, pressing my back into her front once more.

“Where you going?” Paige’s voice is deep and hoarse from sleep, words muffled against my neck as she holds me down, nuzzling her face into my skin.

“Need some water,” I murmur trying to flatten my hair and push the hand away but Paige doesn’t fold. All she does is shake her head. 

“No,” she murmurs and holds me even tighter. It’s almost overwhelming, the way I was getting affection from her. For a moment I try and figure out why she would act like this, but then she kisses my shoulder through the navy shirt and I forget all about it.

“Paigeee,” I giggle but she only keeps shaking her head, her hands tightening around me.

“A lil longer,” she hums, her voice tickling against my ear.

“But I’m thirsty.”

“Fine.”

With a groan, Paige gives my cheek a kiss and climbs out of bed, putting on her basketball shorts and going out to fetch the water. I scooch up on the bed, quickly fixing my hair and trying to make myself look presentable when Paige walks in, carrying two bottles.

“There you go princess,” she grins. Her hair is matted and blue eyes tired as she gets back into bed next to me but I’m quite sure she’s never looked better. However, a sliver of fear in the back of my mind is nibbling away at me. I didn’t understand why she was acting this way, usually Paige’s motives were clear to me. Not this time.

Before I can spiral Paige leans towards me and presses a gentle kiss on my lips, her hand holding my cheek as she does. I kiss her back softly, my stomach twisting. Could she really be this good to me?

Paige pulls back and smiles. “Good morning Val,” she hums with another peck to my lips. I let myself smile back, deciding to worry about this later.

“Morning P,” I whisper and pull back to sip on my water, it soothing the pounding in my head. 

“Hungover?” the blonde chuckles but I shake my head, though maybe I did feel the shakes a little bit. 

Paige bites her lower lip not believing a word I said with a knowing smirk. She grabs her glasses, putting them on herself to see me better in the morning light. I can’t lie, she looks fucking amazing in her glasses and it makes it hard to ignore the ache between my legs when she looks like that - silver chain with a cross on her neck, sports bra, shorts and those fucking glasses.

I snuggle back underneath the blanket, pulling it all the way over my head, like that could somehow hide my filthy thoughts.

“Yo, where you going,” Paige laughs hoarsely, pulling the blanket away. I quickly bury my face in the pillow to hide.

“I don’t look good in the mornings,” I murmur, a blush rising to my cheeks from the way she was staring, let alone the dirty thoughts in my head.

Paige snorts and brushes my hair away from my face. “Oh so you care that much what I think huh?” her voice is smug and it makes me slap her arm, making her hiss.

She slides underneath the blanket too, her head resting next to my pillow. I can feel her watchful eyes roaming my face.

“Get outta here with that shit Val, you know you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmurs, her words lighthearted but to me they mean more. My stomach filling with butterflies, I finally turn to face her, eyes meeting hers.

“You really think so?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. I was a confident woman, someone who took care of herself, didn’t need anyone’s approval. But with Paige I found myself craving it. I hated it

With a roll of her eyes, Paige smirks and pulls me on top of her. “C’mere ma,” she murmurs and her hand drags me down for a kiss by the back of my head. I sigh into her lips, my body against hers and legs straddling her as Paige’s big hands explored my body, slipping underneath the t-shirt and brushing against my side. All the need accumulated since last night, no, since that night in the bathroom finally tips over.

I break the kiss to sit back up and pull off the t-shirt, Paige’s mouth agape as she looks up at me, wetting her lips as her eyes wander around my body, letting out a heavy breath as her gaze lands onto my breasts.

“Perfect girl,” she coos, bringing her hand to cup my breast. Goosebumps cover my skin as I lower myself back to kiss her jaw. I had completely forgotten about Jay at this point, all I saw was Paige.

My hands are quick to find her shorts, pulling them down with urgency while my lips suck on her neck. Usually she reminded me not to leave marks but this time all I hear from her is heavy breathing and quiet groans, bucking her hips up at me. I grin against her neck, testing the waters and sucking a little, enough to leave a little mark. Paige only hums and helps me by throwing her shorts onto the floor.

My fingertips sneak underneath her sports bra, my other hand pushing Paige’s rising hips down, seeking to find contact somewhere. 

“Take it off,” I whimper and watch her lust filled gaze never break eye contact as she pulls the bra off, leaving her only in the black boxers. I found my mouth salivating for her, wanting to bury myself between her legs. But I must take my time, I needed to. I needed to drag it out as long as I could.

I watch her hiss and throw her head back as my tongue swirls around her nipple, feeling it turn hard underneath my tongue. Biting on it gently, I grind my clothed core down on her thigh, my wetness growing unbearable. 

“Val, you’re killing me,” Paige nearly whines and I giggle, leaving red marks on her breasts, my hands gripping her thighs tight.

“Good,” is all I say as I continue my descent, placing sloppy kisses all over her abs, my mind wandering to the dirty thoughts of what they’d feel like flexing under my pussy, grinding my clit against them. I needed to keep that in mind for the future. But not now, I needed to taste her.

Paige groans frustratedly, and I feel her hands coming to my head to push me down. I slap her hands away, pinning them by her side, lifting my head to look at her. She could easily push my grip away and take me, but Paige was letting me have my fun, my fingers digging into her wrists.

“Baby, c’mon,” she whines, looking down at me with her teeth biting down on her lip, brows furrowed and hips bucking. 

“Keep those hands to yourself Bueckers,” I murmur, my lips kissing along the band of her boxers. I hear her groan, arching to my touch. I lift my gaze to her, my eyes wide. “Oh, you want these off?” I ask, acting dumb, slowly beginning to pull down the boxers.

“You’re such a bitch,” Paige says, trying to sound serious but a small whine comes through in her voice, making me grin. 

“I think you like it,” I tease, finally pulling the boxers off her. “I think it makes you wet,” I grin seeing the way she’s glistening for me as I spread her legs apart, making room for myself.

“Fuck it does ma,” Paige moans, watching me descend inbetween her legs, her hand finding my brown hair and pulling it off my face. I maintain eye contact, my own core leaking through my panties at this point as I kiss her inner thighs, feeling the way they tremble underneath my lips.

“That’s fucked up, you should go to therapy,” I grin, my mouth slowly inching closer to where she needed me most. “That’s gotta be some kinda- mmph,” suddenly Paige’s hands both pull me to her core, my mouth buried in her cunt as she lets out a guttural moan.

“Ohhhh shit Val that’s it,” she groans as I take the hint, my tongue swirling all around her folds, softly lapping against her clit just the way she likes. Her taste on my tongue feels like heaven and I feel my own eyes roll back from how good it felt to have her like this. My arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer as my lips suck on her clit, earning desperate whines from her.

“Mmmh, that’s it, just like that ma,” she moans and I hear her hiss as my tongue slips inside her, nose rubbing against her clit. Paige is making a mess of my face, and the sheets but neither of us bother to care at this point. She leans up against her elbows to see my ass in the mirrored closet opposite to her bed, letting out a groan as she sees the reflection of me bent over, eating her, a wet spot visible on my panties.

She leans over and I feel a loud smack on my ass as I continue to make a mess of her with my tongue, alternating between sucking her clit and licking sloppily. “Mmph,” I moan against her, it sending vibrations all over her body. That was enough for me to feel the muscles on her thighs start to tighten.

“Taste so good baby, fuck,” I whimper on her pussy, making Paige let out a guttural groan, her grip in my hair tightening further, guiding my mouth just right.

“Such a fucking good girl,” she hisses, watching me in the mirror, her eyes heavy as she found herself getting closer just from the way my tongue is lapping her up. “So fucking- ahh shit, sexy,” 

“Yeah you think I’m sexy?” I whimper against her dripping cunt, shaking my head with my tongue buried in her folds. Paige’s eyes flutter shut and she nods, jaw going slack.

“Perfect, so good for me,” she mumbles, barely able to hold herself together. “Gonna make me– shit, gonna make me cum.”

I keep lapping her, listening for her reactions and holding her still as her body started to squirm underneath me, building to her orgasm. “Baby I need you to cum,” I murmur, my jaw hurting but the sounds coming out of Paige’s mouth making it all worth it.

“Please, Paige,” I whine and that does it. I feel her gasp, her hand gripping my hair and burying my face into her. I could barely breathe but I don’t mind as my mouth works tirelessly to get her over the edge.

“Valerie, oh fuck,” she groans, her head tilting back and back arching as she reaches her orgasm, grinding herself against my face. It’s so hot I nearly come too. I guide her through it, licking her until her moans turn high pitched and her hands in my hair ease up.

Panting, she brushes her hair off her face as I wipe my face onto her thigh, watching her from between her legs.

“Goddamn baby,” she says hoarsely, trying to catch her breath. Giggling, I climb back up on top of her, Paige’s hand slapping my ass hard enough to make me let out a squeal. 

“Stop, you’ll leave a bruise,” I complain, but Paige grins arrogantly, pulling me into a sloppy kiss. I moan hard, feeling the dampness in my panties growing unbearable.

“That’s the point ma,” she chuckles against my lips, suddenly flipping me over and spreading my legs wide as she sits between them, biting her lips and gazing down at me. “Fuck,” she groans looking from my damp panties to my dark eyes. For a moment she looks almost a little flustered, trying to find the words.

“I uh, I got something new,” she says, her cheeks turning even redder. Curious, I lean up against the pillows behind me. “For us, I mean.” 

Wait, she knew I was seeing someone, and she was seeing someone too, but she got something just for us two? What game was she trying to play? It felt impossible to figure her out.

Before my mind begins to race further, Paige has dug out a blue vibrator wand and is kissing me more tenderly than before. She pulls away a little, clearly hesitating for a moment.

“I don’t want you using the same toy on me and your other bitches,” I tell her a little offended but Paige quickly shakes her head.

“No no no, Valerie ‘s not like that,” she urgently stops me, kissing me softly. “It’s just for us, for you. No one else.”

Her words sound soft, almost tender against my lips which only makes me grow wetter between my legs. I didn’t know what parts were an act and what were genuine. All I knew is I needed her badly.

The moment I nod, Paige’s hands slide underneath the band of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles tenderly, her kisses soft and sloppy against my lips, moving to my neck. The breathy whimper I let out makes Paige let out a heavy breath as her hands spread my legs wide apart, wetness dripping out of me already.

“So pretty,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as she grabs the vibrator, the quiet, steady buzzing signalling it was turned on. I watch her wide eyes as she brings it to my thighs.

“Paige please,” I whine out squirming as she kneels between my legs and places her knees on my thighs to hold them wide open and steady. She watches me writhe underneath her, nearly gasping for air from how bad she loves seeing me like this.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, the vibrator ghosting my cunt to find my opposite thigh, vibrating against it. “You know what to call me.”

Fuck. She had gotten like this once before, made me call her something that drove both her and me wild. She knew I would remember what it was.

“Fuck. Daddy, please,”

With that Paige presses the toy against my swollen, sensitive clit, immediately forcing wetness to drip out of me as I gasp and grab onto the sheets around us. She gasps with me, like she’s feeling it too as my legs immediately start to shake, wanting to close around the toy, but Paige’s legs are pinning me down. It was way too much, overstimulating in every sense.

“Too much P,” I cry out but Paige shakes her head, shushing me as she towers over me. 

“Just a lil more ma, you can take it,” she coos, leaning down to press kisses on my open mouth, turning the vibrator on a higher setting. “‘S gonna feel so good I promise.”

I feel my eyes grow teary as the toy vibrates against my soaking cunt ruthlessly, when suddenly all of the overstimulation turns into nothing but pleasure. My eyes roll back and I let out a loud moan.

“Daddy, shit,” I whine, my back arching and my nails digging into Paige’s back as she holds the toy steady on me, slowly starting to circle my clit with it making a quick mess of me.

“You’re so wet baby,” Paige gasps shocked as she glances down at the way her hand and the sheets were glistening. But I barely notice, already feeling that coil in my abdomen start to tighten. I’m gasping desperately now, hands grabbing anything they could, moaning loudly as Paige kissed my jaw and neck groaning against my skin.

“Daddy I’m gonna come-” I cry out, tears spilling from my eyes, Paige moving the vibrator against me sloppily, driving me to the edge.

“Fuck, already?” Paige asks, surprised but impressed, her nose pressing against mine. My legs tremble desperately as her free hand slides up to hold my jaw.

I nod, my eyes squeezing shut as I’m just about to roll over the edge. Suddenly Paige pulls the toy away from me, making my eyes snap open and leaving my core throbbing, no, aching for relief.

“What the fuck?” I ask but Paige just grins down at me. 

“You didn’t say please,” she smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I don’t have to say please,”

“Yes the fuck you do.”

“No I don’t,”

“Fine if you don’t wanna come ma.” 

Frustrated, I groan. I simultaneously hated and loved when Paige made me beg for it. I hated giving her the satisfaction. But lying underneath her with my cunt throbbing and tears rolling down my cheeks I would’ve done anything to come for her.

“Please,” I say, my cheeks blushing as I look up into her blue eyes. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“Please what?” Paige teases, pushing the vibrator against my inner thigh again. It makes me moan softly, wanting to buck my hips closer, but it was useless.

“Please daddy,” I finally whine, earning a smile from Paige.

“Good girl.”

The vibrator is pushed against my clit again, now turned up all the way, forcing a moan to spill from my lips as I feel my orgasm quickly start to build once more.

“Open your mouth,” Paige commands and I don’t even think about it when I push my tongue out and feel her spit into my mouth before kissing my lips fiercely, moving the toy in a circular motion against my swollen clit.

“Daddy, fuck, please, please, please,” I plead, not even completely sure what for as my mind turns hazy and my body trembles uncontrollably.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” she praises with a hoarse voice, nose pressed tight against mine as she kisses my open mouth, bringing me to the edge.

“C’mon pretty girl come for me.”

I feel my body ride over the edge, all the muscles in my body tightening, back arching and a high pitched moan leaving my lips as the pleasure finally releases, waves of ecstasy rushing over me.

“Aww shit, look at that ma,” Paige mumbles, looking between our bodies watching the way my cunt was squirting all over her arm, legs and bed. My mind turns completely blank, eyes shut tight as my nails nearly draw blood from her back, the pleasure overwhelming me. 

I swear I black out for a moment, only returning to consciousness from how suddenly overstimulating and almost painful the toy felt against my clit.

“Stopp, stop stop stop,” I whine pushing Paige’s hand away as she chuckles but obliges. The quiet buzzing of the toy ends as it’s thrown onto the mattress and the blonde crashes on top of me, nuzzling her nose into my neck.

I take a moment to try and catch my breath before I realise what just happened, and what a mess I had made. Looking down at us and the wet spot we were lying in I sigh, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Fuck I’m sorry P,” I murmur but she pulls away, looking at me shocked.

“For?”

“For, well…” I mumble and point to the mess but she only smugly smiles and shakes her head.

“You’re kidding, ma that’s so sexy,” she arrogantly says.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

Paige licks her lips and nods. “Ye, really. Never made you squirt before.”

I blush a little as Paige presses a soft, tender kiss on my lips - almost loving.

“C’mon let’s go shower,” she murmurs.

I giggle a little, shaking my head. “I cannot stand yet.”

“Oh,” Paige laughs and looks down at my legs that are visibly still trembling.

“I’ll carry you then,” she says and easily scoops me up, walking us both towards the shower. 

I rest my head on her shoulder, watching the way her nose turns up at the end, the way her lower lip pouts and how her jawline sharpens as she tilts her head. Something about her had changed. Lately she had been more caring, kind, tender. I didn’t understand it. All I knew is the way my heart fluttered and my mind eased up around her, I was in big trouble with Paige Bueckers.

-

taglist:  @thaatdigitaldiary @wbbismypassion69 @bueckersfive @onlyhereforpazzi @lovegalor333 @frankoceanlvr303039 @angryflowerwitch @mamixdanni @rosemariiaa @d3arapril @vbueckers @sageworld @makethemhoesmad @sierrale8ne @justliketoreadsowhat @oreo2sblog @sftlyortega @slvt4her @julieloveswbb @vsz333 @faeries-posts @vamptizm @ellapurnellmybeloved @ivorygoal @onlyhereforpazzi @thelightknight21 @paigeluvvr @absolutelydreadful @imamartini @lupinqs @authentic-girl03 @isurpussygreen @xxloveralways14 (SORRY IF I FORGOT TO TAG)

[hannieehaee]

HI!! how are you??

do you mind doing a poly seventeen relationship with vernon and chan and they spoil her alot?? (smut tho)

thank you!! i love you and your blog <3

18+ / mdi

content: bf!vernon and bf!chan, smut, afab reader, oral (f receiving), handjob, mentions of m receiving oral, mentions of shower sex, etc.

wc: 886

a/n: i couldn't help but write them bickering bc i i just know they totally would in real life.

masterlist

"dude, what the fuck? i thought you guys were going to work today. hyung, you literally have a solo song coming up!"

chan's whines were not enough to get you to stop kissing vernon's neck as you cuddled into him on the couch, nor where they enough for vernon, apparently. his hands were very intent on feeling every inch of your tits, something which you did not want chan to take away from you.

"just did some recording from the home studio," was all vernon said in reply, hands now reaching your ass to pull you on top of him, lips finding yours in a kiss.

"i will not be a third wheel in my own home," he grumbled, "move over, you've had her all day."

he made his way to the couch, sitting on the other side of you as he fought vernon for your attention. after a bit of back and forth, vernon gave you one last kiss before leaving you in chan's arms, pleased enough to have had you to himself all day.

it's not like chan and vernon never shared you at the same time, but they just so happened to both be a little possessive. they preferred to take turns to ensure they could each be fully satisfied. and you? you had no complaints.

"i'm gonna go make some hoco. want some, baby?" he asked as he headed to the kitchen.

"mm, yes, nonnie," you interrupted a heady kiss from chan to respond.

"for me too!," said the aforementioned boy before kissing you again.

vernon chuckled and shook his head as he left, taking note that he should probably ask you to shower with him later. he wanted the last word after chan had his way with you.

~

"oh, but this is fine? weren't you complaining we took a day off without you literally yesterday?"

now it was vernon's turn to walk in on you and chan. however, this time you were located in the bedroom, with chan deep between your legs as you sat at the edge of the bed.

"sorry, baby. i might've convinced him to stay home since you'd be gone today," you mumbled in between gasps.

"c'mere, baby. my hand is all yours," you gestured him to sit next to you as your other hand held onto chan's head, leading his movements against your cunt.

vernon needed no further encouragement, undoing his pants as he walked over to bed and took a seat next to you, kissing you and letting his hands feel up your tits as you began working him with your own hand — god, he really was a boob guy.

"mmm, missed you today," he hummed between kisses.

"me more, nonn- ah! sorry, channie, fuck, you're being so good for me, baby."

wordlessly, he had demanded for attention while his tongue was deep in you. it was the classic competition for your affection.

"fuck, baby, keep doing that. gonna fuck you later, okay? fuck you to sleep, shit, yeah?", mumbled vernon against your lips. his orgasm was close, you could hear it in his voice. he must've been tired from practicing all day.

"mhm, shit. please," you pleaded before turning your attention to the other boy, "channie, shit, 'm gonna cum soon."

he murmured incoherent words into your folds, nose nudging a particularly sensitive spot as he sped up. you were so into your own pleasure you hadn't realized the poor boy had been using your shoe to hump in order to release his own tension.

you hoped he wouldn't cum from it. you had way better plans for him as soon as you got vernon off with your hand.

a high pitched cry was the last thing you voiced against vernon's lips, soon followed by his own grunts of pleasure as he dirtied your hand with his spunk. he was insistent in kissing you throughout both your orgasms, sometimes not even landing on your lips, but still within the ballpark. it was a disorganized mess, as it usually was with vernon.

chan waited patiently until the two of you got a fill of each other. he'd been enjoying the show you and vernon gave him, lip caught in his teeth up until he reached up to you and stole you away from vernon, instead giving you a taste of yourself through the remnants of his lips.

"stop, i'm the one you should be kissing right now," he complained as vernon chuckled beside you, getting up to get a rag to clean himself with.

"i know, channie," you coo'd, "i'll make it up to you, okay, baby?"

getting up, you held out your hand for him with a smile, leading him to the restroom connected to your room. before entering, you turned back to vernon, nodding at him to follow along and giggling when he lit up at the invitation.

"i'll suck off whoever washes my hair," you proposed once in the bathroom.

you were met with a whiny back and forth between both men, insisting they were the best at washing your hair and that the other had already gotten more than enough attention from you.

in the end, it didn't really matter. you had more than enough in you to satisfy both of them. you just liked to see them bicker over you.

[starless-nightz]

Can we have jinx x a reader who is isha older sibling?

Jinx falling for Ishas older sibling! reader

note -> I NEED ISHA BACK :[[[

warnings -> s2 ep6 at the end.

content includes -> fluff, angst at the end, silly people, crushing, relationship later on, matchmaker! Isha, takes place between act 1 and 2 (3-6 months) and the end s2 ep6 (my biggest enemy).

Jinx and you met through Isha after Isha practically dragged you to meet Jinx, and you were immediately smitten with the blue haired girl.

The two of you immediately hit it off, becoming close with each other. You offered to teach Jinx sign language so she would be able to understand you and Isha and she of course accepted it.

Jinx is honestly greatful for you both, ever since the two of you came into her life the voices in her head practically disappeared.

It is pretty obvious that Jinx and you are crushing on each other and since you two are oblivious dummies Isha took matters into her own hands, even recruiting Sevika to help.

Jinx isn't an idiot, she knows that Isha is doing and she doesn't stop her, she finds amusing and goes along with it.

When she does realize you do like her back she and Isha would make a plan for her to confess to you, you knew they were planning something but you couldn't get anything out of either of them.

After you and Jinx started dating things calmed down a bit, the two of you always spending time with either Isha or just the two of you.

You were against Isha dying her hair blue like Jinxs but you eventually warmed up to it, happy that your little sister looks up to your girlfriend (even though it stings that she doesn't look up to you as much as she looks up to Jinx).

When you saw your little sister run to Vander with Jinxs gun you knew you had to choose between staying with Jinx and trying to save your baby sister, but you knew that it was too late to stop her.

All you could do was watch as your sister sacrifices herself while you and Jinx cry out for her.

[meanbossart]

im so curious-- how well does DUDrow get on with the other companions? I've only seen your art and going off that I feel like: he gets along with Shadowheart, Gale I think he borderline cant stand, and Wyll/Lae'zel/Karlach I have no idea how he'd feel about them but id love to know!

So, funfact, because I was not familiar with these kinds of games at the time I played BG3, I practically stuck with the same exact party the entire playthrough. I distinctly remember swapping Wyll in for Astarion once at the end of act 2 because I thought he NEEDED to be there to find Mizora, and I replaced Gale with Karlach when I went to kill Gortash. Otherwise... It was pretty much always just DU drow, Shadowheart, Astarion and Gale. I did this because they were the characters I liked most, so I wanted to see all they had to offer.

Anyways, I mention this because it reflects how DU drow related to everyone - which is to say that he didn't. He picked his favorites (two because he liked them, one because he has fireball) and didn't get particularly close to anyone else.

BUT, there were definitely notable dynamics!

Lae'zel: She's dead. He killed her night 3 or something. Before that he thought her annoyingly demanding and over the top. I don't think DU drow even remembers her by the end of the game.

Gale: Just to add to your original observation, Gale and DU drow have a little bit of history. Gale tries, for about half of the campaign, to pursue him romantically. DU drow keeps turning him down and is either misinterpreted or ignored, and by the time Gale does give up on him their relationship has completely soured to the point where they are constantly shooting daggers at each other. (this reflects a romance bug I got in my first run, except I didn't realize it was a bug. Either way I think its more interesting storytelling than the intended experience.)

Wyll: DU drow was profoundly frustrated by Wyll every step of the way. He found him to be incredibly naive and a bit delusional in his pursuit for heroism, and could never relate to Wyll's perspective or choices - the few he made for himself, at least. They definitely had the least in common and DU drow avoided interacting with him most of the time.

Halsin: He didn't care for Halsin much. He was vaguely helpful but by the time they got to the shadow-cursed lands DU drow had the impression he'd only been dragged here to help him clear his conscience, which he didn't appreciate. Also, he couldn't bear to have someone in camp be taller than himself. Halsin was left behind in Act 2.

Jaheira: DU drow fucking loves Jaheira. They bickered and borderline insulted each other and had a great time doing it. He can respect anyone who will call him a monster, threaten to murder him in his sleep, and make light fun at him the next day. It helps that she's hot, also.

Minsc: Weird hamster man. Ocasionally rendered him speechless. Puzzling human being.

Karlach: He didn't get Karlach, but he was often amused by her and curious enough to want to hear what she had to say. There was a similar issue here as Wyll's where he just couldn't relate to her enough to have much to discuss, but Karlach at least had an edge to her that made her far better company. They got along pretty well when the topic wasn't serious, but when it came to the problems she actually faced their perspectives shifted significantly. DU drow thought everything could be fixed, that accepting her own demise was a cowardly thing to do - and as they approached the end, and she asked him if he would stay with her when she died, he thought she was weak. I don't know if he ever discusses it with anyone, but he feels guilty about her death to this day and sees it as personal failure.

[writingbuckets]

The Hot Take: Part 4

paige bueckers x podcaster!reader

wc: 2.9k

a/n: sorry i haven't posted in a while, been super busy with finals coming up and thanksgiving break <3

**********

The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden glow over the bustling city streets. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, your steps quick but unhurried as you made your way to the familiar café. It had become something of a ritual—a brief reprieve from the chaos of your growing platform. Since your last podcast episode, the buzz surrounding “Y/N and Paige” had reached a fever pitch. Fans dissected every word, tone, and pause between you and Paige during her guest appearance, spinning narratives from mere banter. Some took it lightly, treating it like an amusing rivalry, while others speculated wildly about an unspoken connection.

You tried to ignore the noise, but it was impossible to escape the notifications flooding your phone. Clips of the episode went viral, with captions ranging from “This is your sign to ship Y/N and Paige” to “When will Y/N admit she’s obsessed with her?” What started as harmless sports commentary had snowballed into something much bigger—and much messier.

The café door jingled as you stepped in, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. You inhaled deeply, savoring the moment of normalcy, before slipping into line. The barista gave you a knowing smile; you were a regular here, and they didn’t need to ask for your order anymore.

As you waited, scrolling absentmindedly through your phone, a familiar voice broke through the din.

“Well, well. If it isn’t my favorite podcaster.”

You turned, startled, and there she was—Paige Bueckers, standing just a few feet away, hands in the pockets of her hoodie. She looked impossibly casual, yet every movement radiated confidence. Her hair was pulled back, and the slightest smirk tugged at her lips, giving her an air of effortless charm.

“Bueckers,” you said, keeping your tone steady despite the flutter in your chest. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Aren’t you supposed to be practicing or something?”

“Recovery day,” she replied with a shrug. “Coach’s orders. But what about you? Hiding out from your adoring fanbase?”

You let out a dry laugh. “Something like that.”

There was a pause, one that felt weighted despite its brevity. Paige glanced toward the counter, then back at you, her expression softening. “Tell you what,” she said, leaning in slightly, her voice dropping just enough to make it feel like a private conversation. “This place is nice, but I know a spot around the corner that makes the best sandwiches in the city. Let me take you there. You look like you could use a break from all the chaos.”

You hesitated. Lunch with Paige? It wasn’t the first time you’d crossed paths, but there was something about this invitation that felt… different.

“Alright,” you said finally, unable to resist the hint of vulnerability in her tone. “Lead the way, Bueckers.”

As you stepped outside, walking side by side, you felt a strange sense of ease settling between you. It was surprising how natural it felt, how the tension that had been building for weeks seemed to melt away with each step.

The sandwich shop Paige led you to was small and tucked away, the kind of place you’d never notice unless someone pointed it out. Inside, it smelled like fresh bread and roasted vegetables, the warm, savory aroma instantly calming your nerves.

Paige held the door open for you, her hand briefly brushing against your shoulder as you stepped inside. You told yourself it was nothing, just a polite gesture, but your heart betrayed you, quickening its pace.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” you teased as you looked around. “This place is a hidden gem.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Paige replied, her grin widening. “Wait until you try the turkey pesto. Life-changing.”

The two of you ordered and found a small table near the window. The conversation started light—sports, favorite foods, the absurdity of social media trends—but quickly delved deeper. Paige was easy to talk to, her quick wit and relaxed demeanor making you forget, if only for a moment, the chaos waiting for you outside.

“So,” she said between bites, her tone casual but her gaze steady. “How’s life in the spotlight treating you?”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “It’s… a lot. I didn’t sign up for this whole ‘public figure’ thing. I just wanted to talk about sports, you know? But now, it’s like every little thing I say gets blown out of proportion.”

Paige nodded, her expression thoughtful. “Yeah, I get that. People love to read into things, make it bigger than it is. But you handle it well—you’re honest, and people respect that. It’s why your podcast works.”

“Honesty doesn’t stop them from turning me into a meme,” you muttered, though you couldn’t help but smile.

Paige chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Memes aren’t so bad. Means you’ve made it.” She paused, her expression softening. “But seriously, if it ever gets to be too much… just say the word. I’ll set the record straight.”

Her words hung in the air, heavier than you expected. There was something about the way she said it—earnest, almost protective—that made your chest tighten.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “But I think I’ll survive. Par for the course, right?”

She smiled, a quiet understanding passing between you. For a moment, the world outside the café—the trending hashtags, the speculative headlines, the invasive questions—faded into the background. It was just the two of you, the clatter of plates and the hum of conversation from other diners filling the comfortable silence.

“So,” Paige said, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on the table. Her expression was playful, but her tone carried a softness that made your chest tighten. “What’s your go-to escape plan when the world feels a little too loud?”

You blinked at the sudden shift in conversation, caught off guard by the intimacy of the question. “Wow, we’re skipping small talk, huh?” you teased, though there was no bite to your tone.

She shrugged, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Small talk feels… boring. And besides, I feel like you’re not exactly the type to waste time talking about the weather.”

You tilted your head, considering her for a moment. “Fair enough. My escape plan?” You glanced out the window, thinking. “I usually just… disappear for a while. Shut off my phone, pick a random spot where no one knows me, and let myself breathe.”

“Alone?” Paige asked, her gaze steady, as if she were trying to piece together something about you.

“Most of the time,” you admitted, fidgeting slightly with your fork. “It’s easier that way. No one to ask questions or expect you to explain why you need a break. It’s just… quiet.”

She nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. “I get that. Quiet can be hard to find, though.”

“Especially for someone like you,” you countered, lifting an eyebrow. “How do you handle it? The constant attention, the noise?”

Paige leaned back in her chair, her fingers idly tracing the rim of her glass. “It’s a balancing act, honestly. Some days it feels like I’m thriving, and other days…” She trailed off, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “Other days, I just want to crawl under a rock.”

The honesty in her voice surprised you, and you found yourself leaning in, drawn to the vulnerability she was showing. “So, what’s your escape plan?” you asked softly.

Her lips twitched into a small smile. “When I was a kid, it was basketball. I could lose myself in it for hours. But now…” She shrugged, her smile turning wistful. “Now it’s not that simple. Sometimes it’s music, sometimes it’s a long drive with no destination. And sometimes,” she said, her gaze locking with yours, “it’s just finding someone who gets it and talking to them.”

You felt your breath hitch slightly, the weight of her words settling over you like a warm blanket. “Does that work?”

“Sometimes,” she said simply, her voice quieter now.

The air between you felt charged, but not in an uncomfortable way. It was as though you were both carefully peeling back layers, exposing just enough of yourselves to keep the conversation honest without feeling too vulnerable.

Paige broke the silence first, her grin returning, though it was softer now. “Okay, your turn. What’s your go-to for cheering yourself up when life gets ridiculous?”

You let out a small laugh, grateful for the shift in tone. “Honestly? Binge-watching terrible reality TV. The trashier, the better. There’s something oddly comforting about watching other people’s drama when yours feels overwhelming.”

Paige laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Let me guess—Love Island?”

“Close,” you said, smirking. “The Bachelor franchise. It’s my guilty pleasure.”

She leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Wait, are you serious? You’re out here roasting me on a podcast, and yet you willingly watch people argue over roses?”

“Hey!” you protested, pointing a finger at her. “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it. It’s fascinating. And besides, it’s nice to watch other people’s lives spiral for a change.”

“Fair point,” Paige conceded, laughing again. “I’ll admit, I’ve seen a couple episodes. Pure chaos.”

“Exactly,” you said, grinning. “Pure, unfiltered chaos. It’s the best kind of escape.”

Paige’s gaze lingered on you a moment longer, her smile softening. “You’re full of surprises, you know that?”

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t suppress the warmth creeping into your cheeks. “What, because I like bad TV?”

“No,” she said, her tone gentle but firm. “Because you’re not what I expected.”

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You opened your mouth to respond but found yourself at a loss for words. For once, Paige had managed to throw you off balance, and the realization brought a small, knowing smile to her face.

“Ready to go?” she asked after a moment, her voice casual again as she reached for the check.

You nodded, still processing the shift in the conversation. As the two of you stood to leave, you couldn’t help but glance at her, wondering what, exactly, she had expected—and why you suddenly cared so much.

**********

By the time you returned home, you felt lighter than you had in days. Paige had a way of making things feel simple, even when they weren’t, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to relax.

That peace lasted all of two hours.

Your phone buzzed incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with notifications. At first, you ignored it, too tired to deal with whatever fresh drama the internet had conjured. But when the buzzing didn’t stop, curiosity got the better of you.

Opening your social media app, you were greeted by a flood of posts—tweets, Instagram stories, TikTok videos—all revolving around the same thing: a photo of you and Paige at lunch, laughing like you didn’t have a care in the world.

The photo, clearly taken without your knowledge, was candid and undeniably intimate. The way Paige was leaning toward you, her eyes crinkled with laughter, and the way your hand rested on the edge of the table, as if caught mid-gesture—it looked like something straight out of a rom-com.

The captions ranged from playful to outright chaotic:

“Y/N and Paige Bueckers spotted on a secret date? The internet needs answers!”

“Y/N called Paige overrated, and now they’re laughing over sandwiches? We love a plot twist!”

“Enemies to lovers arc confirmed?”

Scrolling through the comments, you saw everything from flame emojis to users jokingly begging for an invite to the wedding. Some fans even made memes comparing the photo to stills from romantic comedies, complete with over-the-top taglines like “From Courtside Critique to Courtside Cuties.”

You tossed your phone onto the couch, groaning. The sheer intensity of the internet's reaction was overwhelming. What was supposed to be a casual lunch now felt like the centerpiece of a media frenzy. Your podcast was supposed to be about sports, not… this.

The doorbell rang, pulling you from your thoughts. You weren’t expecting anyone, and for a second, you wondered if it could somehow be Paige. But when you opened the door, it was your co-host, coffee in hand and an all-too-knowing grin on her face.

“Thought you might need a caffeine boost,” she said, holding out the cup before stepping inside. “Also, I wanted a front-row seat to your existential crisis.”

You groaned again, collapsing onto the couch. “It’s a circus out there.”

She plopped down beside you, pulling out her phone. “Oh, I know. You’re all over my feed. And, can I just say, that picture? Chef’s kiss. The lighting, the smiles—it’s perfect. Whoever took it deserves an award.”

“Not helping,” you muttered, burying your face in a pillow.

“I mean, come on,” she teased. “You have to admit, it’s kinda cute. The queen of hot takes and the queen of basketball, sharing a meal? It’s like the internet’s dream pairing.”

You peeked out from behind the pillow. “It’s not cute. It’s invasive. I didn’t sign up for this.”

She tilted her head, her tone softening. “No, but you kinda did when you started calling Paige out on the pod. You built this dynamic, whether you meant to or not. And now people are invested.”

You sighed, knowing she was right. “It’s just… my podcast was supposed to be my space, you know? I didn’t think it would spiral into this.”

Before your co-host could respond, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text—from Paige.

Paige: “So… about that photo. Sorry if it’s causing chaos.”Paige: “Also, we’re trending #2 right now. Just ahead of some celebrity breakup, so I guess congrats to us?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, despite yourself. Paige had a knack for disarming you with humor, even when you were spiraling.

You: “Yeah, congrats to us. We’re practically internet royalty now.”Paige: “Want me to make a statement? I can clear the air if this is too much.”

You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. The offer was tempting. Paige’s popularity could easily shift the narrative if she addressed the rumors. But a part of you hesitated. Would that make things better or worse?

Your co-host, who had been reading over your shoulder, nudged you. “You should let her say something. It’ll take some heat off you.”

You shook your head. “No, I’ll handle it. Comes with the territory, right?”

Still, you typed back, trying to keep it light: You: “Nah, it’s fine. Let them talk. I’m used to it.”

Paige’s reply came almost immediately: Paige: “Alright, but if you change your mind, let me know. In the meantime… don’t let it stress you out too much. You’re good at this.”

You smiled faintly at the screen, her words oddly reassuring.

By the time evening rolled around, the noise online hadn’t died down, but you were determined to push through it. You set up your recording equipment, deciding to address the situation live for your next episode. If nothing else, it would give you a chance to reclaim some control over the narrative.

Your co-host leaned against the desk, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “So, what’s the plan? Are we diving headfirst into the Paige drama, or are you gonna keep it professional?”

You adjusted the mic, smirking. “Why not both?”

When the livestream started, you dove into your usual banter, easing your audience into the episode. But it didn’t take long before you hit the inevitable topic.

“So, let’s address the elephant in the room,” you said, leaning closer to the mic. “Yes, I had lunch with Paige Bueckers. Yes, someone took a picture. And yes, the internet is apparently losing its collective mind over it.”

Your co-host snorted. “Losing their minds is an understatement.”

You continued, your tone carefully measured. “Look, I get it. Paige and I have this… weird dynamic that people seem to find entertaining. But let’s not get carried away. It was just lunch.”

You paused, glancing at your co-host, who was giving you a look that said really?

“Okay, fine,” you added with a smirk. “It was good lunch. Paige has decent taste in food. I’ll give her that.”

The rest of the episode was a mix of humor and genuine reflection. You acknowledged the frenzy without feeding into it, carefully steering the conversation back to your comfort zone: sports.

When the episode ended, the reactions were immediate, and once again, your mentions lit up. But this time, amidst the chaos, there was a surprising amount of support. Fans praised you for addressing the situation head-on, while others couldn’t resist shipping you and Paige even harder.

And then, just as you were about to log off for the night, another message from Paige popped up:

Paige: “Just listened to the episode. Solid take. But next time, give me a heads-up before you roast my food recommendations on-air.”

You laughed, shaking your head as you typed back: You: “Noted. But no promises.”

Paige: “Fair. By the way, I’m free this weekend if you want to give me a chance to redeem myself. Lunch, round two?”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you played it cool: You: “We’ll see, Bueckers. Don’t get your hopes up.”

Her reply was instant: Paige: “I never do. But I’m annoyingly persistent, so good luck with that.”

You set your phone down, a small smile tugging at your lips. The noise might not die down anytime soon, but for now, it felt… manageable.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind the attention so much anymore.

[half-oz-eddie]

The very first time Buck spent the night at Tommy’s, he couldn’t shake the excitement. Tommy invited him over a handful of times beforehand, and Buck loved learning about all the things Tommy collected. Many of his belongings had some history, or a great story and Buck loved to hear every single one.

Sometimes, when he couldn’t sleep, he’d peruse Tommy’s shelves, or read some of the old books he picked up from a rare book store in some little town he flew to.

This one particular night, though, Buck was feeling restless and uneasy. He had a rough shift, and it left his body in a world of pain.

When he stumbled down to the kitchen for some water, Buck accidentally knocked over a vase on an end table.

His heart dropped and shattered right along with that vase.

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” He whispered to himself, frantically glancing up the steps and hoping Tommy didn’t hear anything. He scrambled to pick up the glass, mentally berating himself for being so stupid and careless.

Tommy trusted him. He trusted him in his house with his belongings that he collected over the years. A house he lived in alone in and when he finally lets someone his space after so long, he breaks something that was probably incredibly valuable.

Buck assumed this vase was rare and expensive, probably the only one of its kind and Tommy was going to be so disappointed in him. What if Tommy thought Buck didn’t respect his space or how much time he put into his collections?

Buck hissed in pain when a shard of glass nicked his finger. He hopped over to the kitchen to toss the glass into the trash and grab a broom to finish cleaning up.

His heart was racing, practically beating out of his chest. He was so worried about hurting Tommy’s feelings, letting him down—

“What’re you doing, Evan?”

Buck jumped the moment he heard Tommy’s voice.

“Ah—he-hey, Tommy, I-I didn’t see you there.” Buck nervously laughed. “I was just uh…getting some…water. Yeah, water.”

“Are you okay? I heard noises—“

“I’m fine!” He exclaimed, quickly withdrawing. “I’m fine. A-all good.”

“You sound nervous. What’s up?” Tommy asked worriedly.

It wasn’t like Buck could hide it. He sighed, walking around the counter to face Tommy in the dim light.

“I uh…broke that vase you had on the end table. My legs were wobbly and I kinda lost my footing and bumped into the table. I’m so sorry.”

Tommy narrowed his eyes. “That blue vase?”

“Yeah…the-the blue one.”

“Hm…I bought that at a flea market because the end table looked pretty bare. I paid, I think…2…no, 3 dollars for it.” Tommy chuckled. “It doesn’t mean anything, if that’s what you were worried about.”

“I thought you’d be upset. I know you have a lot of valuable stuff that means a lot to you—“

“Oh, Evan.” Tommy cupped Buck’s cheek. “It’s just stuff. You mean more to me than anything in this house.”

“Really?” Buck’s eyes widened. “Even your home brew kit?” Buck asked with a smile.

Tommy sighed before nodding reluctantly. “Yes, even that.”

“You hesitated.” Buck’s smile widened.

“I do love that kit more than a little bit, I suppose.” He pulled Buck into his arms. “But I love you even more than that.”

Buck let himself fall into Tommy’s embrace, sighing in relief.

“Let’s get you back to bed, okay? I know you had a long shift and you really shouldn’t be up and about.”

“I didn’t want to bother you.” Buck murmured into his shoulder.

“It’s no bother.” He promised. “You’re never a bother.”

Buck let Tommy carry him upstairs and back into bed while reassuring him that he was the most precious thing he’d ever had.

[sunnie-angel]

A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Part 3: Surprise Guests

fem!jason todd x fem!reader summary: an unexpected gift from poison ivy leads to a very fun evening tags: teasing, sexual tension, groping, biting, semi-sentient plant based sex toy, size kink rated explicit (mdni)| wc: 2.8k a/n: uhhh probably the closest i've ever gotten to writing tentacle porn. if harley and ivy feel a bit ooc, that's because it's my first time writing them so please be nice.

series masterlist

Jay’s heart is in her throat. She doesn’t think she’s been this scared since Ethiopia, since Joker. But it’s not for herself this time, no this time her nerves are shredded for you.

Harley and Ivy had broken out of Arkham again. Usually Jay wouldn’t care; they’re usually pretty targeted in their rage these days, Joker and massive conglomerates exclusively, and they’re occasionally down for a team up. No, its where they were sighted that has icy fear clawing up her spine and bile churning in her stomach.

Breaking every traffic law – and a few laws of physics – she races over to your apartment, barely does the minimum of parking her bike before she’s tearing up to your doorstep. The door bangs open and there’s not the carnage she was expecting. Instead you look up at her from your cozy seat on the couch, hands wrapped around a mug, eyes wide with surprise. There’s no screaming or blood on the walls, just the sudden silence of a conversation interrupted. Ivy regards Jay cooly while Harley practically thrums with excitement.

“Shoes, Jay” you remind her, and then she’s toeing off her boots to join the strangest tea party she’s ever been to.

Wary, she sits down next to you, curls a protective arm around your shoulders that you lean into. Steals your cup to sip from it. Never lets her eyes wander from the two most unpredictable elements in the room.

“We’re sorry for dropping by unannounced,” Ivy starts, not sounding very sorry at all. “But–”

“ – but we heard all about Hood’s new puddin’ and just had to come say hello!” interrupts Harley, all sweet giggles and wide smiles.

“Uhuh,” Jay smiles tightly. “Heard from who?”

“Here and there,” Ivy evades. “A guard that’s doing much more good as fertilizer in the gardens.”

You shudder under Jay’s arm, but the welcoming smile on your face never slips.

“Well,” you say, trying to cover up the social faux pas of bringing up murder, “that sounds like a very kind gesture Dr. Isley.”

“Oh Pamela, please,” she insists, primly setting down her empty coffee cup. “It was no trouble at all, some of my darlings were starting to look a little peaky.” Harley giggles.

“So what’s Hoodsy like in bed?” she interjects. “Bet she’s a real firecracker under all that leather!”

Grabbing Jay’s hand in warning before she can do anything rash – like oh, try and bodily haul Harley out the door – you demure.

“Oh she treats me just fine, but I don’t like to kiss and tell.” Gratefully Jay presses a kiss to the top of your head, glaring at Harley all the while.

“Fine? Fine!” She shrieks. “Sugar she should be treatin’ you a lot better than fine! Why if Red didn’t have me screami–”

“Harleen,” Ivy warns her, hand landing heavy on her shoulder.

“I’m happy! Honest, no one’s treated me so good,” you backpedal, suddenly terrified to have put a target on Jay’s back for the perceived crime of not fucking you well enough. Jay bares her teeth and snarls at the insult.

“Really?” Harley perks up. “Well you come let your Auntie Harls know if that ever changes sugar.” Grinning she slurps down the rest of her drink. You squeeze Jay’s thigh in relief. “C’mon Red, present time! Wanna see their faces when they open it,” she says, rubbing her hands together with glee.

With a heavy sigh, Ivy uncrosses her legs and pulls a box out from under the couch. Jay twitches at the detail she didn’t notice.

“A small gift, a congratulations to you both,” she says.

With trepidation, you open the lid of the box, terrified something is going to snap at your fingers. Inside you find another box, this one a clear plastic half-filled with water. What looks like a fat green vine, curved gently like a c-shape, bobs in the water. Confused, you look back up at Dr. Isley – no Pamela – and force a smile.

“It’s– um it’s a lovely gift,” you tell her. “What is it exactly?”

“A cutting from one of my darlings,” she says easily and Jay’s back goes ramrod straight. “Nothing deadly, just– curious. It likes dark, wet places the best, will do anything to ensure optimal conditions.” 

“You shove it up your cunt and it fucks you by itself,” Harley interjects at your blank looks, still smiling sunnily.

Wide eyed you choke on your own spit. Jay closes the lid of the box and places it on the coffee table.

“Really? You break out of Arkham to deliver a sex toy that I have to water and take care of?” she grumbles.

“Awww honey, we just wanted you to be happy,” Harley coos, and it might be the most genuine thing she’s said all evening.

“Besides, it’s only a cutting and it doesn’t do well in overly acidic environments,” Ivy adds. “It should die off after being doused in a significant amount of vaginal secretions.”

“Okay, yep, that’s not helping.” Jay says, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“We really do have to get going, the Bats can be so annoyingly dogged in their pursuit,” Ivy says, getting up to leave and herding Harley to the door.

“Be seein’ you Hoodsy!” Harley calls just as the door closes.

Shell-shocked by the unexpected visitors and their horribly personal gift, the two of you just stare at each other in silence.

“D’you think we should–” you start to ask.

“Nope,” Jay interjects, immediately fleeing the room.

Jay doesn’t see the two Rogues again for weeks, their little gift hidden at the back of the closet. Sometimes in the dark of the night Jay swears she can hear faint splashing sounds but the weird plant is always still when she checks on it. Obviously it’s not just a fun little toy because it’s been specifically designed to make her question her sanity.

When she does run into them next, Ivy’s in the middle of using her plants to destroy the company that had just won the city’s latest infrastructure bid, Harley squealing and swinging her hammer with a joyful fury. Rolling her eyes, Jay dodges another one of Harley’s blows as she cackles.

“Hiya Hoodsy! Long time no see,” Harley quips. Jay groans and rolls away just as the hammer smashes the pavement where she had been standing.

“Harley. Not satisfied with just tearing up the streets, you had to stop them from getting repaired too?” Jay yells back.

“Sorry sugar, this one’s all Red’s.” Harley shrugs, then dodges Jay’s fist. “Hey! Speakin’ of sugar, did yours like the present?”

Dick finally has the good sense to show up and electrocutes her with one of his escrima sticks.

“Dunno,” Jay says as Dick starts to handcuff her. “Hasn’t been high on my list of my priorities.”

“Aww,” Harley pouts, seemingly unbothered by her incarceration. “Red’s gonna be so sad.”

“Fine! Fine!” Jay shouts, realizing that having a pissed-off Ivy gunning for her over a sex toy is not how she wants to go out a second time. “We’ll give you guys a yelp review or something. Happy?”

Harley nods happily as Dick drags her away and oh Jay’s not gonna like having to explain to everyone what ‘gift’ she’d been babbling about.

Bruce approaches Jay as soon as they get back to the batcave and Jay can’t even look him in the eyes as she spits out, “Yes, Ivy gave me a gift. No, I’m not telling you what it is but it’s not malicious and can’t be used in the commission of a crime. That’s all I’m saying and for both of our sanities, do not go digging.”

He grunts, and Jay chooses to interpret it as agreement. For her own sanity. Because the thought of her pseudo father finding out that a couple of his sworn enemies had gifted her a semi-sentient sex toy and that Jay had just agreed to use it on her girlfriend to prevent a grudge with said enemies? Yeah, Jay’d prefer to be dead and buried before entertaining that thought and its ramifications.

Jay’s weirdly nervous when she gets home. It’s not that she thinks you’d be against trying something new, more that she’d agreed without talking to you first. And while she’d be happy to try it out solo and lie through her teeth to Ivy and Harley, she’s also kind of shocked to find out just how much she wants to watch you get fucked. Intimately.

So it’s with a dry mouth that she climbs into bed with you and slips an arm around your middle. Covers the back of your neck and the hinge of your jaw in kisses to rouse you from your slumber. You blink sleep thick eyes back at her, press the lines of your body back into her solid warmth.

“Hey baby girl,” she whispers in between kisses. “You up for me?” You nod and take her fingers into your mouth. Suckle at them and get her knuckles all wet. Jay groans and rests her head against your spine. “Ran into Harley today,” she tells you and you stiffen. “Wanted to know how Ivy’s present was.” Your mouth parts and Jay lets her fingers fall from it.

“Does that– does that mean we can try it out now?” you ask in a small voice, still not looking her in the eye.

“Do you want to?” Jay asks, arm tightening around your waist. You nod, body curling into her. “I’ll go find the box then.”

She said it like she hasn’t known exactly where it’s been hiding with laser precision. Like she hasn’t woken up to half melted dreams of your coming around it as she holds your hand and soothes you. Carefully, she sets the box on the bedside table, turns to see you on top of the covers and already undressed, nervous in your excitement.

She leans down and kisses you, licks into your mouth until you’re panting and whining under her. Nips at your lip and withdraws with a grin. Makes you wait as she sheds her own clothes before climbing into bed with you. Smoothes a hand down your bare side as she kisses at your throat, has you grabbing at her hair to bring her mouth down lower. Jay bites a bruise into the soft swell of your breast as you whine, sneaks a hand down between your legs and finds you already dripping. Laves at a nipple with broad flat of her tongue as she starts teasing you with her fingers. It’s only when you’re clenching down around her, hips chasing after her hand does she stop. Reaches with a blind hand for the box and grasps the wet vine in her fist. Kisses your bitten lips before resting her forehead against yours to watch.

Asks, “You ready?” while you babble your agreement. Notches the wet, slimy head of it to your entrance and pushes. Swallows your gasps and moans as your cunt devours it, hard knots and clipped off shoots scraping at your tender walls. You shudder as she slides more in, stopping just before the turning curve of the c. You clench down and the vine protruding out of your hole jerks at the movement. Jay grins and grabs the curve of it, uses it as a handle to pull it out of you and ram it back in, has you slumping over her shoulder and whining weakly as she fucks you with it. Every single bump and bit of texture scrapes you raw, pushes up against those hidden spots inside you that light your nerves on fire. Gasping you come as Jay cruelly hooks the vine into your guts and pulls.

“How was that baby? D’you have fun?” She asks, still fucking into you.

“Feels– feels weird,” you stutter out between heaving breaths, pleasure still thrumming through you. Something’s changed. The vine feels bigger, somehow. It’s not unpleasant, the solid weight of it heavy in your gut. Just...strange.

“Yeah baby? How about I make you feel better then,” she says.

Jay gives your breast an affectionate squeeze before rising up on her knees and settling the other end of the vine at her slick entrance. She grins at you before plummeting down, spearing herself open in a practiced motion. You moan as her movement jostles the fake cock inside of you. Wrap your arms around her waist and hold on for dear life as she starts to fuck herself.

Jay’s a goddamn picture as she rides, neck arched back, eyes screwed up tight. Her tits jiggle as she bounces and you can’t help but give in to the urge to mark them up as they do. Breathily, she moans at the first touch of your mouth. Her back arches with a flexibility you envy, hips swivelling as she grinds down meanly. The long lines of her body shadowed and golden. Every time she bears down, the vine jolts inside of you and you moan, clit pinned beneath the hard surface of it. She groans as she comes, mean and messy in the pursuit of her pleasure. Slowly you limp along behind her in an orgasm of your own as you clench down weakly around the vine.

She’s soft in the aftermath, miles of warm skin holding you close as her breathing starts to even out. Slides a large, calloused hand down your sweaty flank in a soothing gesture. Jay goes to kiss you but her lips never find her target as you jerk back and moan at the sudden sensation of the vine moving on its own inside you.

“Hey– hey what’s wrong,” she asks as she cups your face, fear streaking through her voice. 

“It’s– oooh!” you squeal as it starts to fucking writhe inside of you, gut churning in time with the stretching fullness of it in your cunt. “You don’t– you don’t feel that?” Your hands go vice-like around Jay’s arms. 

“What are you– oh.” You can tell by the way her voice goes thin and breathy that it’s fucking her too now. She bites at the plush of her bottom lip and suddenly you’re jealous of her teeth for getting to dig in there. Surging forward, you clumsily slot your mouth over hers, swallow her little gasping sighs as the vine starts thrusting in you both. The stretch is so unbearably thick now, wider than anything you’d taken before. You can feel your cunt struggling to take it all, the way the vine curls in and around on itself as it tries to get deeper and fails, your wet walls straining and clenching uselessly around it. 

Jay licks and bites at your throat and you know there’ll be a fresh necklace waiting for you tomorrow. Her questing hands find your breasts and you whimper as a callous catches on your nipple. With a hand that no longer feels attached to your body with how clumsy it is, you try to reach between you for your clit. Your hand brushes against the jut of your lower belly and you freeze up before scrambling to pull Jay’s hand to feel too. She groans into your ear at the sensation and you can feel yourself getting wetter around the intruder as she cups your belly. Her hands grope you as the skin under her palms warps, the soft swell of your belly distorted by the vine as it writhes and thrusts, so large you struggle to accommodate it.

She presses your hand to her own belly and you can feel the swell of it too. Smaller than yours, but moving faster, fucking in deeper. Jay’s jaw goes slack and she starts to let out throaty little whines that have you clenching down. Her body is shaking from the force of the vine thrusting in her gut, thighs trembling and eyes bright. She pushes down on your bulging womb just as the vine writhes against your cervix, and that’s all it takes to grab your by your hair and drag you screaming through another orgasm, pleasure blinding and burning bright. You can’t feel your legs when you start to come down, vision spotty and skin so sensitive even the lightest touch feels like being flayed alive. Moaning out garbled sentences, you almost miss Jay as she comes, abs clenching and body lean and long. You do feel her hands scrabbling at your waist as she goes over the edge, anchoring herself to you.

The two of you collapse onto the pillows, chests still heaving. Blindly you reach for her, desperate for the burning heat of her skin on yours. Jay lets you snuggle into her, sticky with sweat and other fluids, as she reaches between you and slowly starts to pull the vine out of you both. It feels smaller than you expected as it slides out wetly, coated in the evidence of your pleasure. You bury your face in her shoulder as she grins down at you, hand sodden around the now brown vine, dead and starting to rot.

“Somebody enjoyed themselves,” she teases you and you swat at her hand in embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t say that like you didn’t have a good time too,” you grumble.

[soo0hee]

Fun Time

Pairing — Chwe Hansol x afab!Reader

Summary — Visiting your brother you met one of his member. To bad that you liked to have a little fun... Requested by @cyd0129 , i hope you like it!

Genre — fluff

Warnings — none

Word Count — 1.1k

Rating — sfw

A/N — @tusswrites & @svtiddiess thanks for brainstorming this with me <3

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Visiting your brother at his job was always fun. Watching him turn simple melodies and beats into full fledged songs that would maybe, possibly, end up on an album of their group always gave you a sense of calmness that you rarely ever got to feel.

And while the Universe Factory was almost like a meeting point of Seventeen members, you had never gotten to meet every single one of them. It was funny almost but Woozi had always been a little mysterious when it came to his family, so neither you, nor the members who knew about you were surprised about their producer keeping this detail to himself.

And Woozi wanted to protect himself from the chaos that was doomed to happen if you and certain members of his were to ever meet eachother.

To protect his piece of mind, is what he told you once over dinner at your apartment. You had cackled at his serious expression but accepted his reasoning knowing that you indeed could be a little menace if you wanted to.

With your from your brother requester personal lanyard dangling from your neck and bubble tea in your hand you walked through the lobby of the Hybe Building. It surprised you how well recognition system worked as you remembered last times visit where you had needed almost 20 minutes and a staff members help to actually get inside.

Walking up to the elevator with your earbuds blasting music straight into your brain, you took out your phone to text your brother of your incoming arrival when you noticed the text he had send you a bit ago.

Universe Factory is empty. Am in Studio 7. Meet me there? – received 2:31 pm

For a moment your brain blanked just as the Elevator arrived with a Ding.

The Universe Factory you knew where to find, Studio 717 however you had no idea. It was a practice room, that much you knew, but when it came to the location, you were absolutely lost.

Maybe you should ask someone? One of the staffs? No, they had already stared like you had frown to heads when you walked in with your own Lanyard! There was no need for you to receive those stares a second time.

So you pressed the Button with the number 7, hoping that the first number of the studio was the indicator of the Level you had to go to.

The doors closed and you went up just to stop at the second floor.

A familiar face appeared behind the door. A face that you had seen a million times already on press pictures, photo shootings or the group selcas Woozi loved to send you every then and now.

A few that had yet to meet you however.

Vernon was one of those members that you were being hidden from, until now.

The hip hop team maknae only nodded in acknowledgement, eyes fixed on the lanyard to verify that you had the right to be there.

He pushed the button to the 9th floor.

“You going to the finance department?” Vernon asked smoothly in korean.

An idea struck you that couldn’t passed up.

Fanning confusion you stared back at him and answered in perfect English with, “I’m sorry, what?”

It took Vernon a second to make the switch in language before asking again if you were going to the finance department. This time in english.

“Uhm, no. I was actually searching for the Studios… I have an appointment there.” You said without feeling bad for lying, internally groaning that your hopes of your destination being on the 7th floor had been crushed just like that.

“The Studios are on the 8th floor.” Vernon answered, eyebrow raised in suspicion.

That one you knew. But-

“And the practice rooms? I need to be in 717 to meet someone.”

Now that made the Rapper curious. 717 was their Practice room! What was a stranger like doing in their practice room?!

Admittedly, a very beautiful stranger, but a stranger none the less.

“Uhmm, I could take you? It’s where I’m headed right now! But only if you tell me what kind of business you have there.” He offered. You could clearly hear the teasing tilt in his voice.

You played along.

“I’m a new choreographer. They called me to take a look at a choreography for what I’m guessing is your group if you are headed there. Preparation for a new comeback?”

The elevators door opened on the 7th floor.

Vernon swallowed. A new choreographer meant changes to the already existing choreo and he prayed that wasn’t the case.

The elevator closed.

He hummed quietly, agreeing with the last part.

“Yeah, I’m from Seventeen. Vernon.”

“Nice to meet you Vernon. I’m y/n. Pleased to meet you.” You grinned and bit your lip to prevent laughing out loud at the dumbfound face he made.

Vernon on the other hand had trouble to keep his composure. Something about the way you smiled at him and the accent of your English had his ears heat up.

Once the Elevator opened again, he almost fled out into the hallway while you slowly followed with a snicker hidden by your head over your mouth.

“This way please!”

The member od Seventeen were known to be a magnet for chaos and this was proven again when you could hear the loud screams of who you guessed would be Seokmin and Mingyu behind the closed door.

Vernon snorted at the sounds his members made inside. Reminding him of a seal at times like this.

Like a gentleman Vernon opened the door and let you inside. There were only a few members of the group, one being your brother and almost none of the staff.

“Did someone know that we have a new chorographer?” he yelled in korean towards the guys, thinking that you weren’t able to understand him like this.

It was comical how fast all heads whipped around to stare at him.

Woozi groaned upon seeing you standing behind Vernon while grinning like a cat.

The few members who had recognized you smiled in amusement.

“Aish! Lee y/n! Did you prank him? Vernon-ah, this isn’t a choreographer. She’s my sister.” The producer sighed and rubbed his forehead.

“Ah Jihoon-ah, why rat me out so fast?” you complained with a whine.

Vernon, confused and a little dazed at the turn of events had to pick his jaw up from the floor. Stammering at you with a pout. Joshua patted his back while passing him.

“I see you have met y/n.”

“She- she’s not a-“

“All she is, is a brat!” Jihoon answered and slapped the back of your head gently with his bag slung over his shoulder, ready to leave.

“You’re no fun Jihoon-ah.” You called after him.

“Just come with me so we can get some food!” was the response echoing from the hallway.

You turned back to Vernon.

“It was nice to meet you, Vernon. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

With a wink and a flip of your hair you were out the door and gone.

The American slowly turned to Seokmin who didn’t bother holding back his laughter.

“And? What do you say?”

“Hyung…” the younger forced out star struck. “I think I’m in love…”

[icarusredwings]

A date with Death.

Slightly nsfw.

The moon is out. The only thing about this specific moon is that it's a full moon. The Blood moon to be specific.

They came every march. And every march you could count on Wade Wilson to be busy that night.

Currently, he was sitting at the top of a sky scraper, kicking his feet over the edge with earbuds in.

Next to him was a sweet little spread, an expensive wine, two glasses, a couple of sodas, a bag of burger and fries, and a box with a small heart-shaped cake inside it, strawberries lining the top.

In his hands was a large bouquet of dark colored roses, burgandy, black, and reds (of course). He knew the moment he gave them to their recipient, they would die instantly, but he knew so would he. And he was okay with that.

Starting to hum, he pulled up the sleeve of his jacket, glancing at his hello kitty watch. 5 til 3.

Any moment now, he thought, glancing at the things next to him, moving the glasses over to be closer to the cake, wanting it to look perfect.

Look, if anything, he was a lover. A lover who just happened to love fighting and love kiling. But that didn't make him any less of a hopeless romantic, especially for dark harked ladies that thought he was funny.

Sure, Wade had a lot of lovers. Never being able to pin himself to just one. He spent more time with some than others, but it didn't mean he loved them any less. Even if it was only a couple of minutes a week or, in this case, an hour a year. A singular, annual date.

No, it wasn't merely enough for him, not enough for her either, but he enjoyed their little time together. How she held him and replied to his quips with further jokes that turned him into a puppy, head over heels.

It's not his fault his heart was so big. Honestly. But he knew that even if everyone left him, she would still come each March to see him.

"Welp.." He whispers, wrapping up his Ipod, laying it neatly next to the sodas as he stood up.

Turning on the heel of his good shoes (cheap half off dressage from the thrift, slightly tight, but perfect for dancing) he held the roses near his chest, like a corpse he leaned back, letting himslef fall.

This had to be one of his favorite parts. The cool wind on his back, the freshly ironed jeans and button-up flapping in the wind, the soft sherpa lined denim feeling like laying in a bed of sheep.

"Oh my darling.. Must you always take a swan dive off a 50 story building?"

He smiles, opening his eyes to see that he was back up on that roof, the dark robbed woman rubbing her hand on his arm.

"How else am I supposed to get your attention, sugar?"

She giggles, glancing over the side with an inquisitive hum. "Hhm.. always such a lovely color of red for me."

"Of course. Anything for my boney muffin." He takes her hand, kissing it softly.

"Wade Wilson, you flirt."

"My middle name. How was your trip, pumpkin?"

"Mmh... decent. Such a tease you are. You know that?"

"Obviously. Oh! These are for you. Put them on my grave when I finally get one, willya?" He coes.

She accepts the flowers, barley getting a hold on them before they wilted, drying up. Dying.

"They're beautiful.. but.. erm.. Who's that?" She questions, glancing behind them to a dark figure practically clinging to the roof top exist door.

"Oh, that's just Wolvie. He's fine, got him a number 5 meal and a soda. He's scared of heights." Wade grins, giving him a lazy wave but Logan didn't take his claws out of the metal door to wave back, the other hand holding a burger but he did tip his head. "Ma'am."

"Yeah, he should be at the end of your book somewhere. Slipepry one. Just like me."

"Mmh.. Logan Howlett...Wait I thought I've already taken him?"

"You did! He's a different one. The best one." He smiles towards the man, putting his head agisnt her shoulder.

"The man with many names.... Yes, he should be."

"Huh?"

"He should be scared of heights. I've been trying to catch him since the early 1900s. Slippery indeed...Finally caught him a few years back." She doesn't bat another.. well... dosn't move her skull away from him.

Becoming a bit nervous, Wade intertwined their hands. "Y-yeah he uh... he was curious. So.. you dont have to worry about him, though. Oh! Look! The ambulance finally showed up. Sheesh, tough break, fellas. You're too late!" He shouts at them.

"I see.." she turns back to Wade, grinning. "Don't worry.. I won't take him from you just yet.. he IS the one you were talking about last time, Yes?"

Now, Wade wasn't blind. Death was a jealous woman. Possesive of what was hers. Though Wade wasn't hers. Not quite yet. Not for.. awhile.

It's why she was so intrigued with him. So infatuated. She's never met a human that has wanted to die so much in all these centuries. So badly wishing he could crawl into her arms and let her pet his head for thousands of years as eternity went by.

He nods, blushing a bit. "Y-yeah.."

"Mmh.. quite a looker is he not?"

"Oh he so is. And he acts all tough but really hes a bit softy."

"I bet he's not soft everywhere-" She says, cassually, making Wade cough out a chuckle.

"Oh- my- god! My lady's a freak!" He laughs, still kicking his feet some as he grunts. "Not wrong tho.."

"I bet not." He watches as she looks over the small moonlight picnic he laid out for them. "Wade.. what is all this?"

"It's for our date! I made a cake and everything- well actually Wolvie helped me make it but I cut up the strawberries!"

"You did? Aww, you must be tired from such hard work. But my love..you know I can't eat." She says, frowning, not wanting to rain on his small parade.

"Oh I thought about that already. So I can eat it and then you can taste it. Fun right?"

Her black heart swells, running her hand up to behind his ear, holding his jaw. "You're too sweet."

Wade closes his eyes, leaning into hold, her thumb running over his cheek.

"Hopefully, his icing is as sweet as the cake." She whispers as he gasps, genuienly becoming giggling. "Sttaapph! You're so bad!"

"The baddest?"

Somehow, Wade knew she was giving him those eyes. The kind that suggested something.

"Oooh, the baddest. You know it, babe. Good thing I love me a bad bitch huh? Actually, It's a good thing you like funny losers. Guess in the lucky one."

"Wade.." She says, "you're not that funny."

"Ouch!!" He exclaims, hand drimatically going over his heart, shifting to fall into her lap. "You've wounded me!!" He whined, sticking out his tongue, pretending to be dead.

She laughs through her nose, holding his head in her thighs, petting over his head as she grabs his hand, rubbing over his bumpy skin.

"You're pretty hot tho.." she mutters, bringing the hand to her breast with a teasing smile.

Opening his eyes, he looks up to her with a big shit eating grin. "Oh, you flatter me! And apology accepted." Sitting up he brings the hand to her neck, starting to kiss up her jaw, little pecks.

"You really mean that? Me being pretty hot? And which is it? Am I pretty or am I hot? Cause I think you're gorgeous-"

"Wade."

"I mean, truly, deeply the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And I don't just mean your killer rack either-"

"Wade."

"Did you do your hair for me? Goddess, forgive me for saying this, but damn, How are you so fine? Half of you is literally bone and Id still fuck ya until your hip needs replaced, What do you think? Right here on the roof? Hm?"

Pushing the food over, he starts to run his fingers down her side, getting to the point where her waist used to be. "Fuck, babe how are you so tiny down here? You know what, We'll fix that. Lemme pump a baby in ya-"

"Wade!" This time, It came from about 30 feet away, behind them.

"Wha!?"

"Let her speak! Damn!"

"oh..." Honestly, he had forgotten entirely that Logan was even here. He was so quiet..

"I tried to warn you, darling.."

"Well, I'm not sorry! He knew what he was getting into when he came here.. I can't believe I even let him come.. cockblocked on my own date.." he mutters, obviously frustrated as he agressivly popped open the wine bottle, starting to pour.

Seeing how upset he got only made her smile, pulling his waist closer, her hand dipping to 'accidently' brush up against him.

"Why would I thought that was a good-" for a second he stopped talking, leaning his head back into her boobs with a big smirk. "Oh but IM the tease?"

"Shh. Your cock dosn't seem very blocked to me."

A small squeal came from him as he handed a glass to her after swirling it a couple of times.

"A nosotros mi carino." He says, rolling his r all fancy like, leaning on her still with such comfortably.

The smiles, smirking lovingly. "A la esperanza de que te rompas el cuello mi amor~" She coes back, raising her glass to his until it made a CLNK noise, dumping it into her mouth.

Wade does the same, chugging the glass only to sit up, crawling to the edge as he coughs, spitting it out. "Oh, that's HORRIBLE! Jesus! White woman drink that shit? Why? I mean- I get it- after having to watch 5 hours of a pathetic excuse for a soccor game, I'd drink that too."

Death giggles, watching Wade refill their glasses.

[mascdestr0yer]

NUMBER ONE (3)

Hopkins!Paige x Fem!reader

Warnings: Fluff, a bit cheesy, a girl and basketball player (zombies ref) Trope: Slow burn

Synopsis: Paige’s birthday so happens to be in your favorite time of the year, super..

A/N: i heavily base this story off like if andi mack and euphoria had a baby on fentanyl

“i see you,”

previous | Next

Part Three: The Party

It was nearly impossible to ignore the weight of your nerves as you stood in front of the rented house, a small mansion lit up by neon strobes and pulsing music. The party was in full swing, even from outside. Laughter, shouts, and the bass of music reverberated through the air. You adjusted the hem of your costume—a fitted black bodysuit paired with shimmering tights and thigh-high boots. You felt exposed, ridiculous even, but your mom had insisted the look was perfect, a balance of cute and daring.

costume

She had been annoyingly supportive about Paige’s party. “You only get one high school experience,” she’d chirped as you left, her knowing smile practically haunting you now.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed the front door open.

Inside, the house was alive with chaos. People crowded every corner, clutching red solo cups or nursing bottles of something undoubtedly overpriced and underage-approved. The faint scent of weed lingered beneath the layers of spilled alcohol, sweat, and too much perfume. The house’s grandeur—gleaming hardwood floors, massive crystal chandeliers, and ornate furniture—was dimmed by the wild energy of the partygoers.

You tugged nervously at your costume, weaving your way through the throng of people. A couple stumbled past you, their laughter loud and sloppy, and you swore you saw someone trying to climb onto the chandelier.

“Is Paige even here?” you thought, scanning the room for the birthday girl. Your stomach flipped at the idea of seeing her.

The living room was a sea of bodies. Someone had taken over the massive sound system, blaring a remix that rattled the walls. Groups huddled around a coffee table playing drinking games, while others danced like their lives depended on it. You spotted a few familiar faces from school—some people you liked, some you avoided, and others you’d barely noticed before tonight.

“Looking good!” a guy you vaguely recognized called out, winking at you. You offered an awkward smile, ignoring the way your cheeks burned.

You kept moving, making your way to the kitchen. The counters were lined with bottles of vodka, tequila, mixers, and stacks of mismatched cups. A girl dressed as a sexy devil was refilling her drink while another, draped in angel wings, was taking selfies by the fridge. You grabbed a soda, not trusting the dubious punch bowl everyone seemed so eager to dip into.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come,” a voice drawled behind you, making you nearly drop your drink. You turned to find Paige leaning casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, a lazy grin on her lips.

She looked unfairly good. She wore a black leather jacket over a cropped top, paired with ripped jeans and boots. Her hair was slicked back, and there was a teasing glint in her eyes that made it hard to breathe.

“I—uh—why wouldn’t I?” you stammered, cursing the way your voice wavered.

Paige’s grin widened. “No reason. Just didn’t think you were the party type.”

You shrugged, trying to seem unaffected, even though her gaze felt like a spotlight. “Maybe I just wanted to see what the hype was about.”

“Sure,” she said, stepping closer. The faint scent of her cologne—warm, spicy, intoxicating—filled your senses. She glanced at your cup. “You’re not drinking?”

“Not yet,” you replied quickly, suddenly self-conscious.

“Good. Don’t touch the punch,” she warned, lowering her voice. “Saw them dumping a full bottle of Everclear in it earlier. Don’t want you passed out before the night gets interesting.”

Paige’s presence was magnetic, and the party seemed to fade into the background whenever she looked at you like that—like you were the only one in the room. She leaned in slightly, her lips curving into a smirk.

“You look good, by the way,” she said, her tone casual but her eyes lingering on your costume.

Your heart flipped. “Thanks. You too.”

Before you could embarrass yourself further, a loud shout interrupted the moment.

“PAIGE! Beer pong, let’s go!” someone hollered from the living room.

Paige sighed, glancing over her shoulder before turning back to you. “Duty calls. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

You nodded, too stunned to respond. She winked before disappearing into the crowd, leaving you reeling.

The night unraveled in a blur of highs and lows. Upstairs, you’d heard muffled laughter and the occasional thud of someone stumbling into a wall. People spilled out onto the balcony, their cigarettes glowing like fireflies against the night sky.

You wandered through the house, trying to feel less out of place. In the hallway, you passed a couple making out so aggressively that they almost knocked over a vase. In one of the bedrooms, the door cracked open just enough for you to glimpse a guy dressed as a pirate doing lines of coke off a mirror while a girl in a mermaid costume giggled beside him.

“What am I doing here?” you thought for the hundredth time that night.

Back downstairs, you found yourself near the dance floor, clutching your now-empty soda can. Paige was across the room, engaged in what looked like a heated game of beer pong. Her laughter rang out above the music, carefree and contagious.

You felt a pang of something—jealousy? longing?—watching her interact so effortlessly with everyone around her. She was magnetic, drawing people in with ease, while you felt like a shadow in comparison.

“Having fun?” a voice broke through your thoughts.

You turned to see a girl with dark lipstick and a cigarette tucked behind her ear. She was leaning against the wall, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Uh, yeah,” you lied, forcing a smile.

“First time at one of Paige’s parties?”

You nodded.

The girl chuckled. “Figured. You’ve got that ‘what the hell is happening’ look. Don’t worry, it’s always like this. Chaos is kind of her thing.”

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, making small talk with the girl, when Paige appeared again. She looked a little flushed, her hair slightly disheveled, but her grin was still firmly in place.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked, her eyes scanning you as if checking for any signs of discomfort.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, hoping your face didn’t betray the storm of emotions brewing inside you.

“Good.” She glanced at the girl beside you and raised an eyebrow. “Lena, don’t scare her off.”

Lena laughed, holding up her hands in mock surrender. “Relax, I was just keeping her company. You know, since you were busy being the life of the party.”

Paige rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, she turned to you, her expression softening. “Come with me?”

She led you outside, away from the noise and chaos. The backyard was quieter, lit by string lights that cast a warm glow over the patio furniture and the half-empty pool.

Paige sat down on the edge of the pool, motioning for you to join her. The water rippled gently beneath the lights, and the cool night air was a welcome relief from the stifling heat inside.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched, comfortable yet charged with unspoken tension.

“You’re different tonight,” Paige said finally, breaking the quiet.

“Different how?”

She shrugged, her gaze fixed on the water. “I don’t know. Just… different. I like it.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I’m glad you came,” she added after a moment, turning to look at you.

The sincerity in her voice caught you off guard, and for a split second, it felt like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Before you could respond, someone called Paige’s name from inside the house, shattering the moment.

Paige groaned, running a hand through her hair. “I should probably go deal with that.”

You nodded, trying to hide your disappointment.

“But hey,” she said, standing up and offering you her hand. “Stay out here for a bit. Breathe. I’ll come find you later.”

You took her hand, letting her pull you to your feet. Her touch was warm, steadying, and you hated how much you wanted her to hold on just a little longer.

And then she was gone, disappearing back into the chaos, leaving you alone with the sound of the water and the pounding of your own heart.

The thought made you exhale sharply, annoyed with yourself. You weren’t about to be one of those people who revolved their entire night around someone else. With renewed determination, you headed back inside, weaving through the crowd.

The house was even more packed now, people pressed shoulder to shoulder in the narrow halls. A cloud of smoke hung over the living room—someone must’ve started rolling joints en masse, because everyone had a cigarette or blunt in hand. You spotted a couple of your classmates lounging on the couch, their faces glazed over and dazed as they passed a joint back and forth.

On the stairs, people crowded in pairs and trios, whispering conspiratorially or slipping into rooms upstairs. The tension in the house was palpable—something raw, reckless, like a pot about to boil over.

You pushed through it all, your head buzzing from the mix of sounds, smells, and lights. In the kitchen, the punch bowl had become the epicenter of chaos. A group of guys was attempting to shotgun beers while one girl stood on the counter, yelling a countdown.

You were trying to make your way past when someone caught your wrist.

“Hey!” It was Lena again, grinning like she’d just won the lottery. “Come join us. You’re too sober for this party.”

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, but she wasn’t having it.

“C’mon,” she insisted, pulling you toward the counter where the girl was still standing triumphantly, holding a bottle of tequila. “One shot won’t kill you.”

You hesitated, glancing around. The energy of the room was infectious, everyone cheering and chanting as the girl poured tequila directly into someone’s mouth. You didn’t want to look like a buzzkill, but the thought of drinking something so strong made your stomach twist.

“Don’t pressure her,” Paige’s voice cut through the noise like a lifeline.

You turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, her gaze fixed on Lena with an edge of warning. She looked almost irritated, her jaw tight.

Lena rolled her eyes but backed off, raising her hands. “Fine. No harm, no foul.” She wandered away, leaving you and Paige alone in the kitchen’s chaos.

“You okay?” Paige asked, stepping closer.

“Yeah,” you mumbled, your heart racing—not from the tequila, but from her. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said softly. “You don’t need to do anything you don’t want to. This isn’t that kind of party.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because I think someone upstairs just broke a bed.”

Paige chuckled, her shoulders relaxing a bit. “Okay, maybe it’s a little that kind of party. But you don’t have to worry about it.”

Her eyes met yours, and for a second, everything else faded away again. The kitchen, the noise, the chaos—it was all background static to the quiet intensity of her gaze.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said suddenly, her voice low but steady.

You blinked. “What?”

“Just for a minute. It’s too loud in here.”

Before you could second-guess yourself, Paige took your hand and led you through the crowd. Her grip was firm, grounding, as she navigated the maze of people. She pulled you toward the back door and into the night again, but this time, she didn’t stop at the pool.

She led you around the side of the house, where the shadows were deeper, the party’s neon glow just a faint echo. There was an old wooden swing hanging from a tree, its ropes weathered and frayed, and she gestured for you to sit.

You hesitated but eventually lowered yourself onto the swing, the wood creaking beneath you. Paige leaned against the tree, her hands in her pockets, watching you with an unreadable expression.

“This is better,” she said after a moment, her voice soft. “Don’t you think?”

You nodded, the cool night air soothing against your skin. “Yeah. It’s… quieter.”

She smiled faintly, kicking at the dirt with the toe of her boot. For a while, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t awkward, though. It felt like a truce, a moment of peace stolen from the chaos inside.

“Why’d you come tonight?” Paige asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You glanced up at her, startled. “You invited me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You hesitated, your fingers twisting the hem of your costume. “I don’t know. I guess… I just wanted to see what it was like.”

Paige tilted her head, studying you. “And?”

“It’s not really my scene,” you admitted. “But it’s… interesting.”

She laughed softly, the sound low and warm. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

A breeze rustled through the trees, sending a chill down your spine. Paige noticed and shrugged off her leather jacket, draping it over your shoulders before you could protest.

“Thanks,” you murmured, the warmth of the jacket settling over you.

She sat down on the ground in front of you, leaning back on her hands, her face lit by the faint glow of the string lights in the distance.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, her tone careful.

“Sure,” you replied, your heart suddenly in your throat.

“Why do you always avoid me at school?”

The question caught you off guard. You opened your mouth to deny it but stopped. There was no point lying; Paige wasn’t stupid.

“I don’t avoid you,” you said weakly.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, maybe I do,” you admitted, your cheeks burning. “It’s just… you’re intimidating.”

Her expression softened, and for a moment, she looked almost hurt. “I don’t mean to be.”

“I know,” you said quickly. “It’s not a bad thing. You’re just… you’re Paige. Everyone knows you, everyone likes you. It’s… a lot.”

She was quiet for a moment, her gaze dropping to the ground. “You know, it’s not always great being… ‘Paige.’”

You frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged, a small, bitter smile tugging at her lips. “People like me, sure. But they don’t really know me. Half the time, I feel like I’m just playing a part.”

Her words hung heavy in the air, and you felt a pang of guilt. You’d always assumed Paige had it all figured out—that her confidence and charm were effortless.

“I guess I never thought about it that way,” you said softly.

She looked up at you, her eyes searching yours. “Yeah, well… you’re one of the only people who doesn’t treat me like some… character. That’s why I invited you tonight. I wanted you to see that I’m just… me.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The vulnerability in her voice, the way she was looking at you—it was almost too much.

“I see you,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Paige’s eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you’d said too much. But then she smiled—a real, genuine smile—and your heart soared.

“Good,” she said quietly.

And for the first time that night, you felt like you belonged.

sorry if it's too short, hope you guys liked it taglist: @darlindayss @secretlifeofmarii @aavasstuff @ajcuteee @naipoohh @mrsengstler @thebignunfun @tired-duckling @julienbakerloverr @mrsarnold @slut4uconnwbb @abbyswif3 @svudetective @liviiyyy @hellokittyfeenie

[deathbxnny]

Hii! How're doing? (^^)

I wanted to know if i can have headcanons of how Sevika would react being in a relationship with a gn!reader that's devoted and so in love with her? Like "how can you be so pretty doing literally anything?" Kind of way. And reader liking being physical touch and making lil' gifts for her

(And if you could make reader into a wolf hybrid that can transform into a big wolf and helps Sevika intimidate her enemies by being protective)

PS: english is not my native lenguage, so i'm sorry if i make a mistake or was rude without meaning to... <3

Sevika with a devoted and loving s/o!

Hello Anon!! I absolutely love this request, and dw, your English is just fine!<33

Content: Fluff, established romantic relationships, sfw

Reader has no mentioned pronouns.

((Not proofread))

Sevika didn't know how she pulled you, to say the least. In her mind, she didn't deserve someone as gentle and loving as you. And yet she was perhaps selfish when it came to keeping you as her partner anyway. She wouldn't let you go for anything. Not when you were the last good thing she had in her life. Not that she'd freely ever admit that though.

With that said, it took her a lot of time and trust to get used to your overly affectionate personality. You practically worshipped every breath she took and loved her unconditionally even with her many flaws. She just couldn't understand how you did it either. How you had the strength to be so kind and soft even in the environment you grew up in. And so she accepted your love for what it was.

She didn't mind how touchy you were with her and even saw some pride in it when you clinged onto her arm whilst walking or happily sat in her lap whilst she played a couple rounds of poker in the bar. And if people crossed her in any way, she was able to count on you, keeping her back clear with your wolf form. One she very much secretly adored. Your appearance and general abilities were never much of an interest to her otherwise, though, as she didn't want to treat you any different for them. (She, however, found your wolf form very adorable, but she'd never say it out loud.)

No matter what the gift is that you give her, whether big or small, she will cherish it all the same for life. She definitely would keep a box filled with your stuff somewhere safe, often reminiscing on the memories of you handing them to her in excitement. She loved seeing how happy you got when she expressed her approval of them, and that's what made her so receptive to it. If you're happy, then she's happy.

Despite your wolf abilities that grant you a lot of strength and protection, she'll still not tolerate anyone insulting you or looking at you in a way she doesn't like. Your health and safety are her number one priority, and she isn't afraid to make that clear to anyone with eyes or ears.

Sevika believes that your presence has made her into a far better person, and she owes you her life for that alone. Hopefully, forever.

[ghostgirl-22]

artrick phone sex

I gotchu, my love <3

CW: 18+ !NSFW! First time dynamics, angst, Art has avoidance issues like me.

Apologies this may be too long and full of my own personal angst I fear.

—-

“Art?” It’s Patrick.

Art feels his stomach sinking and now he wishes he’d avoided his call, again. He rolls over on his bed and looks at the sparsely decorated wall of his dorm room. It’s his first time talking to Patrick since… since…

He shivers and tries to put it out of his mind.

“Hey,” Art says and clears his throat. “What’s up?”

Patrick chuckles.

Art shivers again. Did his voice always sound that way? Or is Art just crazy still? He’s been really crazy lately. It’s been two weeks and he’s still…

“Really? What’s up?” Patrick mimics. “That’s all you have to say?”

Art shrugs for the benefit of no one but himself. “What—um— what’s wrong with that?”

“Oh I don’t know…” Patrick hums and then he sighs. “Okay fuck it. I’ll go with it. Are you okay?”

Art is still anxious, his stomach still uneasy. It’s just Patrick. His oldest and closest and best friend and yet he can’t relax. He can’t settle down and they're just talking on the phone. He can’t imagine seeing him in person when he inevitably shows up to Stanford again to watch Tashi play. Everything is different now.

“I’m fine, Patrick.” He lies.

“But you don’t want to talk to me?” Patrick sounds weird. Worried? A little. Disappointed? Probably. Sad? Definitely.

Art sighs, he doesn’t want Patrick to be sad. “No I— I’ve just been busy. We had finals last week. And um…. practice has been crazy. I’m um… I started seeing this girl and—” he hears Patrick huff a laugh but barrels through, ignoring it. “Sorry I missed your calls.”

“And texts,” Patrick adds.

“I’m sorry,” Art says again.

They’re quiet for a while. Art turns back to look at the tv. He was watching Sports Center, they were talking about gymnastics. Apparently there had just been some kind of qualifier competition.

“Who’s this new girl your seeing?” Patrick asks. This time Art can’t tell what his tone is.

“Uh well she’s nice, pretty. She’s actually not on the team. She’s an English major.”

“Sounds hot,” Patrick says, flatly.

“Yeah, she’s um— she’s nice,” Art says. “Are you—are you high?”

“A little. I won’t lie. Me and the buddy I was telling you about we smoked a couple and then went and got tacos and Margaritas. So fucking good. Who knew Dallas was a food town?”

Art laughs. He begins to relax, this feels more like best friend stuff. Maybe he was overreacting. Avoiding him for two weeks. But of course that wasn’t the only reason Art was avoiding him. “What happened to your match?”

“Uh well— I lost again. This shit is so fucking rigged.” Patrick complains.

“Dude that fucking sucks,” Art says. He sits up on his bed and looks around for his own weed stash.

“Yeah, it’s fine though. I’m going against this guy tomorrow, stats are all over the place but I think I can take him.”

“Whats his name?”

“Moussa or Mousso… I can’t remember but he’s French. Kinda hot, actually.”

Art feels his stomach flip flop again. “Uh… so what about Tashi?”

“She’s good, she actually answers my calls. I mean not tonight but she told me her cousin would be in town so…”

”Do you want me to beg for forgiveness or something?” Art says, smirking.

Patrick takes a breath and doesn’t say anything while Art is rummaging through the bottom drawer of his night stand. He finds the baggy he was looking for and sits up on the bed, legs crossed as he opens it.

“I’m sorry but I was honestly busy.” Art adds when Patrick still hasn’t said anything.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” Patrick asks.

Art stops moving. His stomach begins doing all kinds of things again.

“Look I don’t want to… I don’t want it to be weird,” Patrick continues. “I can do whatever you need. If you want me to pretend I didn’t fuck you… okay fine. But you have to talk to me because I’m going fucking crazy.”

Art stares at the television but he’s not seeing anything. He gives up on the weed and tosses it on the nightstand. “Yeah um… okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Art mutters. “I’m— we can talk.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Art says. “I—“ he lays back down on his side and looks at the wall, pulling his knees up. He wishes with everything in him that they hadn’t done it in here. In his fucking bed.

He’s got it on a loop playing in his head all the time. Patrick crawling between his legs. The way he looked, hair still damp from the shower, freckles all over, pupils too big, blue eyes all sparkly. How he smelled, like vanilla soap and cigarettes. What he sounded like, voice so much deeper and softer than normal, saying stupid things like “You’re so fucking pretty”, “Gonna make you scream my name,” and then moaning when he got it in.

And how it felt.

God.

How it felt.

That’s the part that stays with him. How much it hurt. And then how much it didn’t hurt at all. By the end Patrick was touching something inside him and he was seeing stars. In between consciousness and some other plane of existence is how good it felt. That was the silly part. Feeling like he wanted it again and again and again.

He let Patrick do it again in the morning. Patrick’s arms wrapped around his waist fucking him on his side while he stared at this wall his whole body blooming with pleasure. And then just sitting with it for the rest of the day. The ache. The stretch. The feeling like everyone could tell. Patrick left that afternoon for the airport, sent Art a text. Well that was fun. Which he ignored. Called him that evening. Also ignored.

Art had been trying to avoid thinking about it ever since (it was impossible). He’s thrown himself into school, tennis, he’s even tried to talk to a new girl. It didn’t go anywhere. In his worst moments he’s even tried to flirt with Tashi. But then he remembers she’s fucking Patrick and his mind swings right back around to the way Patrick fucked him. And that makes him more crazy because now he doesn’t know what the fuck he actually wants.

And every fucking night, late at night he’s lying in bed staring at the wall touching himself over and over… thinking about it.

He doesn’t know how to say any of this to Patrick.

“Did you die?” Patrick asks, dryly. Even now since they’ve been on the phone, just hearing Patricks stupid voice is making Art’s stomach hurt, and his cock fill up.

“No… I’m just confused okay,” Art says.

“About what?”

“I don’t know.”

”Did you hate it?” Patrick asks.

“Not really,” Art murmurs.

“You’re so fucking full of shit,” Patrick groans.

Art sighs and realizes he just mindlessly put his palm on his cock because of how gravelly Patrick’s voice sounds. And fine. Patrick can make him crazy all the way in whatever fucking city hes in however many fucking miles he is away from Palo Alto.

“I’m sorry if I don’t know how to feel. I’ve never… I’d never done any of that before.” Art says quietly.

“And yet you practically begged for it in the morning.” Patrick says softly.

Art swallows thickly.

“I can’t get it out of my head.” Patrick continues. “The way you were rubbing against my dick before you even woke up properly. Fuck. I can’t get you out of my head.”

Art’s rubbing himself now. “I can’t either,” he sighs, he’s starting to lose it again. He feels silly. Too silly to care if Patrick can tell.

“Yeah?” Patrick sounds eager, breathy.

“It was… I still… I still feel it. Is that crazy?” Art says quietly.

Patrick takes a deep breath. “Fuck. You drive me so fucking insane. Are you fucking touching yourself?”

“’m sorry. I just…” Art says, closing his eyes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Art knows he’s never gonna recover from this but right now it doesn’t matter. He would stop if he could but he can’t.

”You still feel me?”

“Mmhm.”

“Feel me stretching you? you’re so fucking tight I don’t even know if it’s all gonna fit,” Patrick says, his voice sounds like it did. When Arts eyes are closed it’s almost like he can feel Patrick’s breath on his skin.

“Ah—“ Art gasps, grabbing himself properly. “I like the stretch.”

“You love it.” Patrick says. “You don’t even want to wait. Don’t want me to take my time, you’re just so eager you’re pushing that pretty ass back on me.”

“Yeah,” Art gasps, he rolls onto his back and puts the phone on speaker, letting one leg fall open as he jerks himself. “It feels so good—when you fuck me. Its too much. Im too full please… please I don’t think I can take anymore.”

“Oh you fucking liar,” Patrick moans. “You can take it baby. I know you can. You’re a little cock slut already and its only your first time. Fuck. You’re so tight.”

”So tight,” Art says mindlessly as he tries to ease two fingers along his ass, the way Patrick had done before he entered. “I wanna… I want you to… I—I miss you.”

”I miss you too,” Patrick says. “If I was there I’d have you on all fours taking my dick all night.”

“Ah—mmh— Patrick I’m gonna— you’re gonna make me—“ Art cries. The fingers are enough… even dry.

“Come on, yeah… fucking come on my big fat dick sweetheart… come on.. nngh…” Patrick moans.

It’s enough. Hot strings of pearly white are suddenly spurting out of him and spilling everywhere, on his fingers and clothes. On the bedspread. He’s breathless, as his whole body goes lax.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck… I need to be in you again, gahhh..” Art can hear Patrick’s bed squeaking wherever he is and then he’s groaning loudly, and gasping through his own orgasm. “Oh god, oh shit… that was…”

“Yeah,” Art says breathlessly, looking up at the ceiling.

”Mm don’t fucking ignore me again,” Patrick says.

As relaxed as Art feels right now. Distantly, the pit in his stomach is returning. “Patrick… are we… I mean… are we still gonna be… friends?”

“Yeah of course,” Patrick says, easy. He yawns. “Always.”

Art feels tied up in knots but he can tell Patrick’s relaxed, sated, relieved even. If anything he’s going to be asleep in five minutes. No point getting any deeper now.

“You wanna fall asleep on the phone or—?” Patrick asks, yawning again.

“No it’s… it’s fine.” Art says. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Mmkay. Sweet dreams.”

Art bites his tongue to keep himself from saying something fucking stupid that he can’t take back. The line goes dead. Art stares at the ceiling for a minute, the three words he can’t say platonically to his best friend who he’s now fucking, are flitting about in his head. And Patrick wonders why he’s confused. He grabs his second pillow and pulls it over his face. He’s so fucked.

[starkasaaa]

omg I liked your last capitano fic so much🥹🥹 maybe you can do nsfw alphabet with him? thank you:3

Capitano smut alphabet:

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

At first, Capitano leans back against the pillow with a soft groan, trying to catch his ragged breath. His arms are tightly clasped around you, holding you close as he kisses the top of your head. He prefers to just lie quietly with you for a while, and then he’ll carry you to the shower. His favorite thing to do is sit with you in the warm water and gently lather your back with some sweet-smelling gel. He also loves it when you help him wash his hair, the feeling of your soft fingers sliding through his strands is so comfortable that he practically falls asleep every time you do it.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The Captain is the type of man who loves absolutely everything about his woman, but if he had to choose one thing, it would be your tummy. He loves to put his head on your lap and bury his nose in your tummy after long missions. He also likes to run his big and cold fingers over your tummy, teasing you on purpose and not going lower, where you crave his touch the most. He loves when you impatiently grab his hand and put it between your legs, squeezing him tightly there.

In himself, Capitano loves his hands. They are big, strong, and can easily make your legs tremble in 2 minutes, and oh, there is nothing more pleasant for him than to first make you weak from his hands, and then carry you to the bathroom on those same hands.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Capitano is a very responsible man, he will not cum anywhere without your consent. If you want him to be in protection, he will definitely be, but to be honest, doing it inside satisfies him more, but don't worry, Captain is a man who will not run away from responsibility, so if you get pregnant from him, he will only be happy to become a father.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they're doing?)

He is not the type of man who will use girls for one night. He didn't have time to think about relationships before, so I dare to assume that he has no experience. Of course he had little intrigues with women, but it never came to sex.

He does not really know what he is doing, he just does what he thinks is right, closely watching your reaction to know whether things are going well or badly.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Capitano is a pretty simple man, he prefers traditional positions like missionary. He likes to be in control, so being on top suits his nature. He likes to throw your leg over his shoulder to make the angle of penetration even deeper, or to gently hold your hands above your head so that you can't cover your embarrassed face or your mouth.

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

At first, he will be very serious. His main goal is to satisfy you. The first few times, he will be serious because of his own inexperience and fear of hurting you, but even as his experience increases, he will not become more relaxed. He is simply not used to showing much emotion, and you will have to talk to him about it, and then he will try to be less serious during this.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Capitano doesn’t see much need for daily shaving, and he doesn’t bother much about it. The hair on his partner's body is also not a problem for him, and if one day you suddenly tell him how tiring it is to shave every day, he will simply raise an eyebrow and look at you blankly.

"-…Then why are you doing it? I mean... Doesn't everyone have hair there..."

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is not the most gentle person, but he tries very hard. Long years of training and battles made him a very closed person who is not used to taking off his tight facade in front of everyone, but he will try to learn to be more romantic. His care and love is more likely to be shown in actions than in words. For example, changing dirty bed linen after you make love, or helping you wash up+ changing you into clean clothes.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He didn’t really do this before, since then any physical intimacy even with himself seemed to him to be something not particularly necessary. But then, as the relationship with you progressed, he realized that this is a pretty good way to relieve tension and it is generally pleasant. So, like any other man, he does it. He just never devotes you to the details of this. It happens that the longing for you during long missions becomes so aching that he has to touch himself, imagining that you are here with him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As I said. Capitano is a simple man, and he prefers to do it traditionally on the bed. He doesn’t really want to risk his status, and just the possibility of being caught in such a position doesn’t really pleasant to him, so doing it at home for him is the best solution.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You don't really have to do anything to get you going. Capitano is always hungry, but he won't admit it. He likes it better when you pull him into bed, because sometimes he finds himself getting turned on too often. It's not that it embarrasses him, it's more that it makes him think he's forcing you, but when you drag him into the bedroom yourself, it turns him on even more.

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Something that involves pain. The Captain knows he's big and strong, and the thought of accidentally overdoing it and hurting you while doing it drives him crazy.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

There's nothing more beautiful in the world than the nervous nibbling of your lip and the trembling of your thighs as his tongue deftly circles your sensitive bundle of nerves. The way your thighs squeeze his head between them makes his cock press hard against the fabric of his pants. He throws your leg over his shoulder as his fingers slide from your entrance between your labia, feeling like he could cum just from the look of you needing him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He'll go slow at first, giving you time to get used to the pace. Once you've more or less spread out around him, he'll go harder, but not faster. Capitano prefers sensual sex, trying to enjoy every moment with you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers more full-on sex, with foreplay, a relaxed atmosphere, and the likelihood that he won't be disturbed. But if you're really needy, he won't mind doing it. If he wants it, the Captain will rather wait until you get home.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

The Captain can go as long as he wants. He just never wants to burden you with it too much, so don't try to find out where his limit is. He'll be hungry for you forever.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He's not really into this, but if you bring a toy into the house, he might be willing to try it. He'll probably like handcuffs to finally prevent you from covering your face and mouth during this.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Depends on the situation. Normally, he might be willing to stretch out your pleasure a bit, not letting you cum until he thinks you've asked him nicely enough. But if he's coming home from a long mission, there's no teasing. He's been waiting too long and he needs you.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

The Captain is quite reserved during this, and the only thing that comes out of his mouth is quiet groans. This is rather because he is not used to being emotional, so he needs time to stop holding it in.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It is quite big and thick. With a bright pink tip. (sorry, I don’t know what else to write here😭)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Before, he didn’t feel any desire for sex at all, and probably the amount of excitement and desire that he feels now is all accumulated over those years when he didn’t experience it, well, or rather didn’t notice it. But now… He feels like a wild animal, especially after a long separation from you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

For Capitano, the most important thing is to make sure that you fall asleep first. He tries to make up for his taciturnity with actions. He will put a glass of water on your nightstand, fluff your pillow so that it is softer, and wrap you in a blanket. He will stroke your back and kiss your forehead until you fall asleep, and only then will he fall asleep himself.

[bad268]

heyy, i was wondering if u could do a kimi fic even tho u r getting unnecessary backlash for it ( sorry babes ) maybe with an italian reader that reacts badly to kimi getting into a f2 crash bc a family memeber passed from a car accident and after hes i nthe hospital the ready gets clingy with him?

I'm Not Going Anywhere (Andrea Kimi Antonelli X Hubert! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Clearly (I changed it to French, hope you don't mind <3)

Warnings: Imola crash, heavy mentions of Belgium 2019 (Hubert reader i mean-)

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 1887

Summary: Kimi's crash brings the reader back to the darkest time of their life

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/kimi.4ever on Insta from 7/25/2024)

You had finally let Kimi convince you to come to one of his races. It was one of his home races, Imola specifically, and you had never gone to a race with him. You had some deeply buried trauma with races, so you were more comfortable supporting from afar. Well, when Kimi came up to you and practically begged you to join him, you couldn’t say no. The weekend was fine. You and Kimi were doing track walks, you got to sit in his car, you got to meet some of the grid, and it all helped to ease your nerves. George and Carmen were amazing, it was fun catching up with Ollie on track, and all was well.

Qualifying went well, with Kimi ending up in the top 10, and the race was going to be a piece of cake, he said. Why was it a piece of cake? Because it was projected to rain. Why would this make it a piece of cake? Oh, because Kimi was more comfortable with driving on the wet track. You knew this as he always took you on late-night drives whenever it rained. It was just more calming to him, so you took his word as you stood beside Toto in the Mercedes garage.

Then, it was like everything was in slow motion. One second, you were listening to Toto praising Kimi’s skills, but the next, everything was silent. You had looked over at Mick as he tapped your shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw a silver car lose control. Your ears were ringing, and you couldn't focus on anything. Suddenly, you felt like you were back in Belgium 2019. The worst day of your life, the day you tried your hardest to forget, the day you lost your older brother, Anthoine. The flashbacks you tried so hard to bury were coming back in full force.

You didn’t register your legs giving out, but you felt someone’s arms wrap around you. Was it Fred? Mick? Carmen? Toto? Susie? You don’t know. The view of Kimi’s Mercedes hitting the wall replayed over and over and over again in your head. You couldn’t feel anything, and it was just like back then. Your brain was glitching, mixing up the two accidents. With that, your anxiety ran wild.

Your breathing became unsteady, you felt your heart beating at your fingertips, and your hands and forehead became clammy. You felt like you were going to throw up or pass out as you brought a shaking hand up to your chest. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing you could do to save Kimi and nothing you could say to help the situation. You were helpless.

You vaguely remembered someone lifting you to stand and help you into Kimi’s driver’s room, but you couldn’t recall who. You felt like you had no control over your body. It was almost like you were watching everything from the outside. It was the same as Belgium 2019, and there was nothing you could do.

You briefly registered a blob of someone kneeling before you. They grabbed your hands and ran their hands across your knuckles. Then, up your forearms to your shoulders. They drew shape around your legs and shoulders, coaxing you back into your body. You blinked rapidly as they did so, and after a few moments, you felt like the bricks on your chest lessened. You saw Mick kneeling in front of you. You let out a huge breath as you collapsed into his chest. 

Everything was still a little hazy, but you were able to semi-follow along with what Mick was explaining. Something something breaks failed. Something hospital. Something something get in there. Mick helped you into the back of an ambulance, helping you sit next to Kimi before he said something to the medics. 

No one looked at you twice as you reached out to grab Kimi’s hand, but you stopped in the air just before you could. If this was it, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold it together if you held his hand. Your mind still replayed the ambulance ride with Anthoine, and you couldn’t shake the feeling of deja vu as you looked at Kimi.

He was unconscious, but he looked peaceful. Then again, so did Anthoine. You dropped your head for the entire ride, not wanting to face what you believed to be inevitable.

When you arrived at the hospital, a nurse directed you to a waiting room while they attended to Kimi, giving you the chance to come back to the present on your own. You clenched your fists a few times and walked around the room. You just couldn’t sit still. It felt like hours, and maybe it was until a nurse came in to update you on Kimi’s condition. Part of you had convinced yourself that he was gone, but that changed when the nurse walked in with a comforting smile.

“He’s alright,” She said as she led you through the halls to his room, “He’s a little out of it, but he should be just fine. He hit the wall pretty hard, so he has a concussion and broke his wrist. He should be back in the car in a few weeks, depending on his progress.”

“He’s alive?” You asked hopefully as your voice cracked. “Will he be okay?”

“We’re projecting a full recovery,” She comforted as you threw your arms around her and cried. The biggest weight was lifted off your shoulders after hearing this situation was different from before. Different from Anthoine. You still had Kimi, and that’s what you needed to focus on. You finally regained your senses before pulling back and wrapping your arms around yourself with a sheepish smile. “I can take you back to see him now.”

With a nod, you followed behind her silently through the halls. There was nothing you could think to say at that moment, and you didn’t want to disturb anyone you walked passed. Eventually, you both got into the lift, and she pressed the button for the fourth floor.

“Just so you know, he was asking for you,” She added just before stepping off the lift and walking towards a room to the right. It was the first door, but before she could open the door, you gently grabbed her wrist.

“What do you mean? I thought he was unconscious since the crash?” You questioned, dropping her wrist when she turned to you. 

“He woke up momentarily when we were transporting him to get a CT scan,” She replied quietly. “He just whispered your name a couple of times and asked us to tell you he was alright, but he went back under almost immediately. It was very helpful actually because it showed us that he still had some memory, so we didn’t need to worry too much about amnesia. Here, head in, and I’ll send someone by to get you dinner.”

You nodded in response as she continued walking down the corridor, but you took a deep breath before walking into the room. It was just as bland as you remembered- no. You were not thinking like that. He’s fine! The nurse said so herself! 

There was no color, no sounds other than the heartbeat monitor, and no movement. You would change that whenever he woke up, or you would text someone to bring flowers or something. You pulled the chair closer to his bed. He didn’t look bad for someone who just got in a life-threatening crash. He had some bruises around his temple, his left arm was wrapped, and you could see some bandages around his chest. Honestly, you were scared to touch him. 

You finally got the courage to link your pinky with his. It was minimal contact, but it made you feel so much better. It also accidentally opened the floodgates. You barely registered the tears that fell from your eyes as your eyes zoned in on his hand. You analyzed the amount of wires that came out of it, the slight bruises on his wrist and fingers, and you noticed how bare his wrist was. He always had a watch or fan bracelets on, and seeing neither didn’t help the onset of tears. 

You pulled one of your charm bracelets off and gently slid it on over the wires. It was one he made for you, saying “Tesoro” with a (color) heart. You made him an identical one with a red heart, but it was with the rest of his things back at the track. Just seeing one semblance of normalcy helped calm your nerves as you fiddled with the bracelet. Eventually, the day caught up to you, and you laid your head next to Kimi’s hand. You briefly looked up at him before exhaustion hit you full force.

It felt like you were asleep for hours, and maybe you were. You felt something gently running through your hair, across your cheekbones, down your arm, and eventually stopping at your hand. You registered that it was someone’s hand, and when you finally connected the dots, your eyes snapped open to see Kimi’s half-lidded eyes looking back at you.

“I’m sorry, did I scare you, Tesoro (sweetheart)?” His groggy voice asked quietly as his hand moved back up to cup your cheek. He gently wiped away the stray tears that had collected on your lashline as you struggled to form words. “You don’t have to say anything. We can talk later. All you need to know is I’m okay, I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“Can I lay with you?” It came out before you registered it. Was it against hospital policy? Could be, but it didn’t stop Kimi from shifting over in the bed to make space for you. It also didn’t stop you from immediately climbing on next to him, being careful of the wires and injuries he had. You gently laid your head on his chest and wrapped an arm loosely around his stomach before looking up at him, “Is this okay?”

“If you’re comfortable, it’s perfect,” He replied in a soft tone with a smile as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He adjusted his arm around you so the wires hung off the side of the bed, and he could still hold you. “Anything to make you feel better.”

“You just got in the accident, not me,” You chuckled halfheartedly. “I should be working around what you’re comfortable with.”

“You are,” He pointed out, “I’m comfortable when you’re comfortable. And it’s not like you're pulling on my IV or anything. We’re both comfy now, so why don’t you try to get some more sleep?”

“What about you?” You asked sleepily. The now-comfortable position made it a lot harder to stay awake, especially now that you were able to talk to Kimi and give yourself peace of mind.

“They should be in here shortly to check in,” Kimi answered before kissing the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep. I feel like it was a hard day for you. I’ll be here when you wake up, don’t worry, Tesoro.”

“Ti amo, Tesoro (I love you, sweetheart),” You whispered against Kimi’s lips as you placed one last kiss before falling asleep.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[purinfelix]

hiii, i love your writing so freaking much, can i please ask for a Franco fic inspired on Gold rush by taylor swift? he just literally gave me that vibe and I NEED to read something like that, please and thank you <3

everybody wants you ‧₊˚✩ - franco colapinto

summary: when your best friend since birth finally joins you in formula one, it's safe to say that you're excited - though when it becomes apparent that he's the more favoured one, you start to doubt things, including your feelings w/c: 2.8k

a/n: oh anon i love this idea but also this was my first time listening to this song so i hope i interpreted it the way you hoped and did it service !!! <333

You hated how cliche it was. 

The two of you were childhood best friends, together for as long as you could remember. You always credited yourself for getting into karting first and Franco, always eager to stay by your side, followed suit. The track only gave the two of you another domain to be inseparable in, with every race ending with both of you on the podium - and it never mattered who was first, only that you were both there, together. 

There was an unspoken understanding in your hometown that the two of you were never to be separated, which you initially revelled in, but the older you got the more you felt yourself developing a feeling towards your friend you couldn’t quite explain. Somewhere in the realm of jealousy, just beyond admiration and reaching just short of a childhood crush.

It came in waves, flowing whenever you were reminded of just how different the two of you were, and how inadequate you felt next to him - with his charismatic personality and curly brown hair that always fell perfectly into place, always drawing more and more people towards him. The more time you spent with him, the more you found yourself wondering why he had chosen you of all people to stick so close by, even if he never gave you a reason to doubt it. 

And so when you decided to move away to pursue racing, it wasn’t shocking that Franco would too. The two of you set off, after many tearful goodbyes to your friends and family back home, to brace the world, hand in hand. 

You stayed racing for the same teams, always getting promoted or signed at the exact same time - almost as if the universe had heard the same unspoken understanding of your town, and knew that you worked best together. And whilst it helped to see each other during practices, debriefs, and even wearing the same uniforms, it was far from the only thing that kept your friendship strong. 

Away from almost everything else the two of you knew, you clung to each other tightly and came to know absolutely everything about each other through it. Hushed midnight conversations, early morning snack runs, and even visiting landmarks as you grew and travelled countries - all the while with Franco by your side. 

Strangely enough, it never did occur to you to see the boy beside you as more than just a friend - no matter how much the other girls you befriended seemed to think otherwise. Whenever they would sneakily whisper to you, asking whether you were sure the two of you were just friends you would always roll your eyes shooting back something along the lines of Ew? Franco? No, we’ve known each other forever - which typically made them happy to pursue him themselves, even if they strangely never succeeded. 

All this came to a screeching halt in the summer of your second year in Formula Two, however, when you were met with a contract deal from Alpine Racing. A racing seat for one. 

“You’re taking it right?” his voice is excited as the two of you sit in the stuffy hostel room you’re sharing with about eight other strangers, all too broke or cheap to pay for anything better. Franco was the first you had told, before your coach, before your family, before anyone. 

“I don’t know Franco, I mean-“ 

“What? Why wouldn’t you?” 

You chew your bottom lip as you fiddle with the bedsheet below you, not able to look him in the eye. “It means we won’t get to race together you know,” you sigh. 

“Well you don’t know that, maybe you race alone for a year but once I make it into F1 we’ll be side by side again! Plus you’re stupid if you think I won’t be visiting every one of your races anyway.” 

You watch his green eyes scan your expression, searching for a clue to how you’re feeling. 

“It’s just a big step, I don’t know if I’m ready for it.” 

“I think you’re more than ready,” he insists, though you don’t feel convinced. 

When you finally speak again your voice is tiny, “I’m scared, Franco.” 

In that moment, he gives you a sympathetic look before pulling you into a tight hug and even though neither of you spoke about it again that night, you knew exactly what it meant - I know you’re scared, but I’m here for you. 

And you aren’t ashamed of the fact that it was his reaction alone that pushed you to make the decision to take up the deal, and you couldn’t have been happier that you did. At least, that’s how you felt for the initial months of your contract which was filled with cocktail parties, race suit fittings and media interviews. And despite what you had expected, and as selfish as it might’ve been, having Franco not by your side for once felt like a breath of fresh air you hadn’t known you needed - it filled you with a lone sense of pride, having ‘made it’ without someone being right there for you to be compared to. 

It was perhaps this sense of pride that helped you manage to score points on your debut. You still remember running up to where Franco was waiting for you in the garage, the biggest smile on both of your faces as you jumped into his arms - and it felt, just for a moment, like this euphoria might’ve been what you had spent your whole life waiting for. 

But perhaps you had spoken too soon, since your progress saw a steep decline causing you to lose not only the chances to score points and impress your team, but also the confidence you had spent so long working on. 

And one night, just when it seemed like you were at your lowest, after a weekend full of DNFs and near-crashes - the most unexpected thing happened. A singular text from Franco, halfway across the world, excitedly explaining how he was going to be filling a position in Formula One, in a different team to you. 

There wasn’t a single word to describe the millions of emotions you felt rushing through you in that moment. For one, surprise at the mid-season switch as well as a certain sort of selfish disappointment that you would no longer be the only one in the highest form of the sport you both loved. But above all else, a thrumming excitement about being with your best friend once more - to see him at the paddock, catch up with him during sessions and not have to trek all the way into grandstands just to see his face. 

It didn’t take you long to realise though, that you were far from the only one who felt this way. It was almost like the moment Franco stepped foot on the paddock, donning the blue of Williams for his first race weekend, the world fell in love with him. Online, conversations about him blew up to the point where you couldn’t go moments without being bombarded by clips of his interviews or edits of him. It was strange, one part of you felt proud that the world was finally waking up to the treasure that was your best friend, but another felt the strong urge to hide him away, for him to be all yours. 

A small part of you had expected this, having known Franco and his personality since before you could put it into words - but what you hadn't expected was for him to also back it up with amazing performances. Now, it was him who was scoring points and impressing everyone - and you who was left to do little more other than celebrate with him, for your own results paled in comparison. And once news got out about you being childhood friends, through a couple of grainy leaked photos of the two of you smiling proudly in your tiny karts, the comparisons started up again. 

It was like salt in the wound, agonisingly so - seeing your best friend adored him doing well in the sport you got into first, while you were left to, weekend after weekend, fail to make it into points range. And to make matters worse, the media frenzy that cropped up around Franco did little other than make you come to a realisation you might've spent your whole life running from - that you were jealous, not of Franco, but of those who loved him. That maybe your desire to constantly stick by his side was more than just a childish habit, and that your jealousy of his achievements was just a reminder that you’d never be more than just a friend, one that was always a little behind, a little worse. 

Despite your best efforts, the two of you began to drift apart, each achievement he got driving a deeper and deeper wedge between you. It hurt a lot, race weekends beginning to bleed into each other - a plain blur of failed races, celebrations from other teams, and Franco's adoring fans.

It all seemed to come to a head one weekend, a minor crash in an earlier lap winding you up in the Alpine garage - sweaty, irritated and extremely exhausted. Yet you continued to watch the race, not so much for anyone else, but more so that you could keep a close eye on the blurry blue car, and its driver.

And before you knew it you were watching it cross the finish line in third, Franco’s first podium - right in front of your eyes. 

You weren’t sure why, but your first instinct was to hastily get up from the fold-out chair you were sitting on and rush away to your driver's room, like a child throwing an immature tantrum. You knew Franco well enough to know he’d come looking for you but knew yourself enough just as well to know you couldn’t face him right now. With everything that had been going on, with the constant stream of less-than-kind comments you were getting online and the extreme dip in your performance, the last thing you wanted was to be reminded of your inadequacy. It was extremely selfish, sure, but you convinced yourself that you were actually doing Franco a favour since you knew your acting skills were too poor to convincingly put on a show as he celebrated right in front of you. You always had been a faster runner than him, at least, that’s what years of playground tag had told you. 

But it had been a while since then and before you could make it to your room you heard an all-too-familiar voice call from behind you. 

“Hey!” 

“Not now Franco,” you huff, so close to the door of your room that you’ve got one hand on its handle already. 

“What? C’mon, I just got a podium and that’s all you have to say?” You pause at the handle, the hurt tone in his voice pulling at your heartstrings. 

“Yeah, I saw, good job but I just can’t right now.” 

“Can’t what? You’re joking, right?” His voice rises in volume a little, and he sounds in disbelief - you’re glad the garages are mostly empty so that no one can see the scene he’s making. 

“No, I’m not,” you shoot back firmly. You’re still facing away from him, arm hanging limp from the door handle - you can’t remember the last time you felt this defeated, this tired. 

“Seriously, what is going on with you lately? It’s like, you were so excited for us to race together but now we barely talk even though we see each other every day.” 

“Franco,” you say, quietly. 

“We’ve known each other forever but this feels like the first time where I truly have no clue what is going on in your head, why don’t you ever talk to me anymore? You don’t think I don’t notice you avoiding me?” 

“Franco, please.” You feel tears pricking up at the corners of your eyes, and it doesn’t help how accusatory he sounds. 

“Please, what?” 

“Please, just go celebrate.” 

“No! If you think I’m just going to leave now without you, you’re seriously ridiculous. I mean, this is what we always dreamed of, isn’t it?” 

At that, you turn around to face him - looking him in the eyes for the first time in what feels like months. You watch his brows unfurrow immediately as his expression softens at the sight of you, tears welling up in your eyes which are surrounded by dark circles, marks left from your many sleepless nights. It’s clear that he notices how small you look as well as you hunch into yourself, barely having the energy to stand up straight. 

“Woah, hey,” he says, his tone gentle now. 

“Don’t do this Franco, don’t talk to me like we’re still children,” you say, instinctively defensive. 

“Aren’t we?” 

You let out a laugh, soft yet cruel as you struggle to hold in your tears, “Everything’s different now, isn’t it? When was the last time we were on a podium together or even spoke face to face like this.” 

“What are you even saying?” You feel a pang of pain in your heart at the look in his eyes, a little anger mixed with disbelief. 

“I’m saying, that maybe being friends isn’t going to work if we’re racing against each other anymore. Have you seen the way I get compared to you relentlessly? Everyone loves you, everyone wants you, and I’m just, there! Do you have any idea what that’s like? To have no one backing you?”  

“You’re my best friend, I’m right here, backing you!” 

“Franco,” you say, just above a whisper. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you can see Franco working up the courage to say something, his hands fiddling with the fireproof mask he’s been holding this whole time. You feel a couple of tears finally make their way down your cheeks and you do your best to wipe them away, eager to not embarrass yourself in front of him anymore. 

“I love you.” He finally says. 

“Don’t say that, please, don’t say that.” You’re about to turn away, ready to just shut yourself in your room. 

“No, like, I love you.” You hear him take a couple steps closer to you, to the point where he’s right behind you. 

“You don’t mean that,” you sigh. 

“I do,” he says, barely above a whisper, “I have, for years.” 

You pause, silently turning around to face him, and it feels like the breath has been knocked out of you. He looks at you, nervously waiting for a response though trying to put on a face that tells you how serious he is about what he’s just said. 

“And I know that you probably don’t feel the same but I need you to know this because I can’t keep going on like this, barely seeing or talking to you and-” he begins to ramble, and all you do is let out a relieved sigh as you lean forward to rest your head on his chest in silence. However, it’s clear this confuses him as he stops talking immediately. 

“I love you too, Franco.” 

“Wh- really?” 

“Yes,” you say, the smile audible in your voice. 

“Like, seriously?” 

“As serious as a heart attack.” You lean back against the door with a smile of relief, or as much a smile as you can muster up figuring that you feel like you’re about to collapse right there and then. 

“I’d kiss you but,” he gestures to his face and hair which is drenched in sweat. 

“Oh shut up and come here,” you say quietly, looping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you. When your lips meet his arms wrap around your waist as he pushes you up against the door of your room, and even though you couldn’t care less, you’re once again glad there’s no one here to see the two of you. No cameras, no fans, no other drivers - just the two of you, and the years of history between you. 

When you part, his face is flushed as he offers you a shy smile, his arms still around your waist. “You have no idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that.” 

“I could say the same for you.” 

“So, what now?” he asks. 

“You go celebrate your first podium,” you reply excitedly. 

“We,” he corrects, finally unlooping his arms to take you by the hand and lead you out of the garage - and whilst your beaming smiles might’ve seemed to many the results of his podium, the two of you knew they were part of something much, much bigger. 

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