#it's just like my other friend all over again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chelseeebe · 2 days ago

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girls on film

18+. mdni! smut, so much smut. p in v, eddie is a munch! alcohol mentions. pornstar!eddie munson x reader. no use of y/n! modern au.

eddie munson makes porn. you make it. only, eddie doesn't much like the sounds of that.

a/n: happy valentines day my loves! spend some time with our favourite nerd eddie instead of a real man that'll only disappoint. i am so guilty of always giving eddie a breeding kink and then just never giving him any children oopsie hehe. i've been writing this on and off for months now, i already have a p2 and p3 the question is whether i'll finish them or not lol

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

when anyone asked, you’d tell people you were a set assistant.

what they didn’t have to know was that you were a set assistant for pornstars.

it wasn’t ever a dream of yours, nor something you’d have ever pictured yourself doing, but it paid the bills and hey, sometimes you met cool people through it too.

today’s no different to any other, waiting for the talent to arrive as you prep the scene. it’s something ludicrous, metal guy meets friends innocent younger sister, something along those lines.

you never really paid attention to much of that stuff, at some point it just became so much noise and frantic movement that the script never really mattered.

he’s late. you’ve heard whispers of his nonchalance before. only hoping that you’d still get home on time.

when the elusive man finally decides to bless you all with his presence, you’re taken back. not ever expecting the lanky guy that had shuffled through the door. all hair and denim.

his charm makes up for his tardiness. flowing out of his mouth in droves, shaking hands and sharing hugs with the crew until he gets to you.

“hey,” the man grins, pulling you in for a half-hug, “i’m eddie, super excited for today now that i’ve seen you.”

you stare back in confusion, you’d be running towels and telling lighting what to do, why would he ever be excited about that?

“anything you’re not comfortable with?” he asks, squeezing your arm gently.

“oh.. what? i’m not- sorry, i just work on set,” shrinking into yourself although flattered that he’d thought you were starring opposite him.

“oh,” sounding almost disappointed, “that’s a real shame,” the thick smell of his cologne and cigarette smoke wafting towards you.

your cheeks burn, averting your gaze to the ground, finding solace away from his heavy stare.

“who is the lucky lady?” eyes gliding around the women in the room, choosing to once again settle on you.

“she’s.. um, she’s getting ready,” gesturing towards the small dressing area you had.

you were never this bumbling, a thousand handsome men had stood before you and had never, ever had this impact upon you.

“cool.. okay,” he nods, “where d’you need me?” his leather jacket tightening around his strong arms, knocking the wind out of your chest.

“over here,” gesturing vaguely at the empty makeup chair, losing any and all composure when he pats your arm on the way past.

christ.

you needed to get a grip and get it fast.

a lick of fresh air would help pull you from this disgustingly down bad headspace he’d plunged you into.

or not.

eddie’s hand curls around your arm just before you reach the door, “i’ll join ya,” cigarette already poised in between his lips.

you can only nod, stepping out into the cool air though it does nothing for your flushed cheeks, edging away despite his efforts to keep close.

you’re a little intimidated by his hardiness and hardness. struggling to keep your eyes above the waistband.

“you ever thought about doing this?” he asks, blowing the smoke from the side of his mouth.

“not really.”

“that’s a shame,” he smirks, “i think we’d make something beautiful,” keeping his gaze steady on your flustered face.

“stop it,” brushing him off coyly, he didn’t have to be so sickly sweet, his smirk had clearly already worked its magic on you.

“you don’t agree?” eddie’s eyebrow raises, taking a slow, drawn-out toke of his cigarette.

you shake your head, “there’s a reason i’m behind the camera and not in front of it,” staring out at the bleak, grey parking lot.

“well i think we should change that,” stepping in front of you, leaving you no room to not look at him, “i’m in town for the week, i’d love to see you again.”

this didn’t happen to you, ever. the girls you worked with were otherworldly in terms of their beauty, no one ever really paid you any attention at all.

eddie can sense your hesitation, assuming that he’d scared you away already, “look, take my number. you don’t have to call but i’d like you to,” slipping his cell from his pocket.

you nod almost on your own, retrieving your own phone to hand off to him. he’s slick in the way he taps the number in, cigarette balanced on his lip as his eyes flicker between phone screens.

“there ya go,” placing your phone back in your clammy palm, “do what you want with it, i go back to chicago on thursday,” making it clear that whatever this may be, would be temporary.

“o-okay,” nodding quickly, there was a high likelihood that his number just sat there for the rest of eternity, never to be used or clicked on again.

you don’t take eddie as the type of guy to pressure you, in fact, he seems quite the opposite. so much so that if you don’t take him up on his offer, you’ll never hear from him again.

it’s truly an offer you really shouldn’t refuse, but yet you’re hesitant to even accept his advances. mixing work and pleasure like this, especially with someone like eddie, could only end one way.

“i better get back in, y’ready?” holding the door open, a real gentleman, making you flustered of the most common of decencies.

you were fucked.

it’s hellish watching him perform.

not just seeing everything his tight jeans had hidden away but also the way he truly cared about his partner.

all the gentle touches to her face, cradling her body while completely disrespecting it too. globs of spit leaving his mouth to coat her cunt, making your thighs press together with indescribable want.

he glances back between takes, making sure to catch your eye every single time. running his tongue over his bottom lip, knocking the air from your lungs without fail.

you’d bore witness to many overdramatic, frankly fake orgasms in your years on set. very rarely did anything ever make you feel quite like you did today. screaming jealousy at her disappearing eyes, the way his lips brush against her ear, guiding her through her second orgasm of the session.

it’s not loud, or irritating, just soft mewls accompanied by his soothing voice, making sure you were soaking right through your jeans.

when eddie cums, his lips fall apart, head thrown back as his hips stutter, using her back as a canvas, jaw gritted together.

“that was great!” tom yells, your makeshift director. ushering for you to hurry up with the towels and cold water. your fingers trembling as they brush against eddie’s.

he offers a sweet thank you, quickly slipping back into his robe as you try to regain some semblance of control over yourself.

you’re ridiculous, a giggly teenage girl more than a grown woman who watches people fuck for a living. this had solidified your position on ever calling him, and simply put, you couldn’t.

in fact, you’re not certain you can even speak his name again, destined to live a life of perpetual wondering about what could have been.

one glass of wine seemed to have been all it took to get eddie fucking munson back into your head.

you’d done so well so far, managing to push the disgraceful thoughts way, way to the back of your mind, only for one measly glass of sauvignon blanc to destroy all of your progress.

it’s not like you were actually going to call him, just toying with the idea, hovering over the button. a little foreplay, if you will.

maybe you should.

if one glass of wine was enough to have you already breaking the promise you’d made to yourself, who’s to say what years and years of unknowing would do?

eddie was interested first, he came onto you first. there’s no doubt he’d be as eager as you were, but you still can’t help the niggling sounds of apprehension.

the tone is dialling before you can second guess yourself and end it, fingers trembling around your phone, as if it were a ticking time bomb awaiting detonation.

it rings a couple times before it clicks, connecting the call, “hello?” his voice echoes, thick and as intoxicating as the first time you heard it.

your lips move yet produce no sound. reluctantly hoping he’ll think it’s a prank call and block the number.

“eddie,” the first word to form on your tongue, potentially the worst thing you could’ve said.

“it’s you,” his smile evident, even through the phone, “i was hopin’ you’d call,” you can hear the hustle and bustle of the restaurant now, he mumbles something to a passing waiter about the bill and now suddenly you feel immensely guilty about calling him on a saturday night.

“i’m sorry- am i interrupting something?”

“not at all,” and you can hear him smile all over again.

but what you don’t see is him glancing over at the busty redhead still at the table, waving back at her innocuous wiggle of the fingers.

“what’re you doing tonight?” he asks, leaning back against the cool brick wall.

“nothing really.. i mean, if you’re not busy, maybe you could.. or we could do something?” wanting to die the second the words leave your lips.

“that sounds good to me,” his audible grin unwavering, “how ‘bout i come over?”

you freeze, looking around at the mess surrounding you, piles of paperwork and clothes litter the floor, resembling somewhat of a dumpster rather than an apartment.

“..you don’t want me to, that’s okay,” answering his own question.

“-no!” interjecting before he could change his mind entirely, “you should come over,” turning into a desperate little slut before he’d ever even touched you.

eddie pauses, his feet shuffling in the background, “okay,” voice intoxicatingly thick, “give me thirty minutes and i’m all yours.”

all yours.

christ.

you can feel your knees buckle, turning into putty in his hands.

“o-okay, i’ll send you the address,” ending the call before you fumble this any further.

immediately springing up from the mattress, deciding that the one and only time you’re going to mix work and pleasure must be perfect. you work on grabbing piles of clothes, shoving them back into the closet they belonged in.

eddie wouldn’t care, would he?

perhaps keeping stuff to the living room would be better, the tiny couch would make do.

thirty minutes practically on the dot, there’s a knock on the door.

oh god oh god oh god.

this was a mistake.

you should shut off all the lights and just pretend you’re not home.

don’t be so silly.

cursing the self-sabotaging thoughts, damned to make you second guess every single thing about yourself.

your head peaks around the open gap, eyes falling on his chest to rise up and meet his daunting eyes. there’s a bottle of wine tucked beneath his arm, the half bottle you’d downed beforehand completely unbeknownst to him.

eddie blinks, his lips cocked to the side, “well hello,” dressed far too nicely for a drunken booty call at your apartment.

“hi,” utterly meek and pathetic, swooning over his suave greeting.

“you look good,” gaze trailing down to your bare legs. you hadn’t expected him to be so put together, now regretting your choice of what was essentially just pyjamas.

“tha-thank you,” pulling the door open wider, “come in, please,” stepping back to let him inside.

the air thickens immediately, your clothes suddenly too tight and your palms clammy. if you ever wanted eddie to stay interested in you, you’d have to get ahold of yourself quick.

“nice,” he saunters around the room, looking at your pictures and the other piles of accumulated artefacts ok your shelves. settling just before the couch to turn and smile. “you live alone?”

you nod automatically, the air sucked from your lungs at the sheer sight of him in your apartment. it felt like some strange crossover dream that really should’ve stayed unexplored.

“that’s good to know,” helping himself into the kitchen, opening cabinets to presumably find two wine glasses.

you brush off his comments, it was no secret as to what he was here for. “top left,” arm brushing against his as you make your way into the small space.

musk and a hint of lingering cigarette smoke waft your direction, decidedly not turning to sniff his jacket like you so wished you could.

“care to join me?” offering the bottle out in your direction.

if you were even just an inch braver, you’d create some witty come back, some utterly irresistible flirty banter that’d surely have him crawling on his knees for you.

but you aren’t, so instead you nod, hoping you won’t resemble such a wallflower all night.

“can’t believe a pretty girl like you was gonna spend a saturday night all alone,” eddie gushes, a quarter of his wine sipped away.

it’s incredibly hard to remain stoic when his eyes are crescent-moons, lashes cascading shadows over his cheeks and his tongue periodically wets his plump bottom lip. a routine he's no doubt mastered the art of by now.

“i’m always..” gesturing into thin air, unfortunately aware that whatever came out of your mouth next would make you look like a pathetic loser, “i mean, i go out sometimes..” making matters worse tenfold.

“really?”

why’d you open your mouth?

“no.. i work a lot so..” clearing your throat in a bid to make him forget you’d ever spoken. “i hope i didn’t interrupt anything..” shrugging softly, though you’d already known you had done.

“i was out for dinner.. nothing important,” brushing you off, “she wasn’t exactly.. uh, great company,” laughing into his glass of red.

the cogs turn, sudden realisation that you had interrupted a date. and he’d let you.

“you were on a date,” cringing at yourself, frustratedly embarrassed for no good reason, “i’m sorry- fuck, you should’ve said,” wanting to die a thousand deaths.

he looks utterly perplexed, “if i wanted to be there, i’d be there, alright?” patting your thigh, the first of his daring moves, “i wanted to see you,” thumb circling the soft skin.

already making you melt half an hour in. you were toast. there’s positively no way you’ll make it out of here with your dignity in tact.

“..okay,” bashfully nodding along to his heavy words, seldom to back down so easily. there’s just something about eddie munson and his doe eyes that turns you into a submissive mess.

his hand doesn’t move from your knee, tracing circles around the bone, “you’re so beautiful and you don’t even know it, do you?” trying his hardest to meet your averted gaze.

fuck.

your cheeks burn, pussy already throbbing and he had scarcely touched you yet. how was it possible for him to be so sweet? his words thick like molasses, dripping, leaving their mark all over you.

“i’m just..” what has gotten into you? this was pathetic. “you’re very kind eddie,” smiling gently, as if his words hadn’t sent you into cardiac arrest.

he hums, a deep noise from the bottom of his chest, “say my name again sweetheart,” purring, toying with coming closer, “i like it better when you say it.”

you’d scream it if he wanted you to. let all your neighbours know who was making you act like such a fool.

“you don’t have to sweet talk me.. you’re already sat on my couch,” finding the last lingering ebbing of confidence to bite back.

eddie laughs, deep and rumbling, “but i like seeing you squirm.”

oh god.

had he trained in this? he’s so quick witted, bouncing off of whatever you say immediately.

“you’re so..” trailing off into silence as you meet his heavyset gaze, intimidated and fazed all at once.

“so.. what, sweetheart?” cocking his head to the side, alongside his lips.

you hate him.

his overwhelming confidence, his gaze that has your heartbeat in your throat and your fingers clawing at your thigh. there was something so intimidating and yet oddly charming about his presence.

“so annoying,” biting back, only really annoyed that he had successfully woo’d you. and without much effort at all.

eddie looks vaguely hurt for a moment, only for his grin to spring right back onto his face, “i don’t think you mean that,” sucking on the backs of his teeth.

you’d been caught out immediately, bowing your head to hide the inevitable flush.

just fucking do it.

the same nagging voice that had made you call him in the first place starts up again, louder this time. if his brazen flirting wasn’t enough to get you to make a move, what would be?

choosing to grasp the moment as it is, refusing to allow him any more power over you for tonight.

you charge forward, chest bashing into his equally as heaving chest, attempting to straddle his thighs until you’re stopped by his large palm groping your thigh.

he breaks apart, the back of his hand brushing against your cheek, “it’s real sweet that you think you’re in charge,” quickly taking your wrists into his grasp, pushing against your pouncing stance to press your back against the couch instead.

you let him, sinking into the cushions as he moves atop of you, hands skilfully skirting over your hips, tugging at your loose-fitting shorts.

“oh darlin’, i’ve been waitin’ for this,” running his hands back up your doughy thighs, squeezing the pliant flesh on their way.

you just about melt under the pressure of his sweet talk, allowing him the power to manoeuvre your body any which way he wanted. there’s a soft thunk as your sweatpants hit the floor, his hand spreading your legs to give him full view of your sodden panties.

you’re not sure you’ve ever been as wet as you are now, positively drenched just by the feel of fingertips against your skin.

eddie hums, large hands skirting your thighs, a soft squeeze to the doughy skin, “i really thought you’d never call,” slowly sinking down, leaving a trail of peppered kisses on his way, the tank top you’d slung on gives him perfect view of your hardened nipples, tugging the fabric until your tits fall out.

“wouldn’t that have been such a shame?” continuing on, making you squirm with every lick of his lips, every last syrupy sweet word.

his lips attach to the overly sensitive skin as his free hand palms the other, tongue twisting around the bud forcing the pathetic whimper from your throat.

you can feel him smile against your chest, mouth popping off just to lock around the other, continuing his descent down between your legs.

he pries your thighs apart, looking up at your skittish eyes, jumping from object to object as the pressure in your clit worsens.

his lips startle you, warm and wet on the pliant skin, sucking and nibbling until he reaches the hem of your shorts. “you dressed up f’me,” hooking his fingers into the waistband, a short tap on your hip has them jumping up to help him.

eddie glides them down your legs, holding onto your ankle as the fabric hits the ground. his pretty pink lips curve upward before pecking the soft cotton clothing your cunt. he’s a genius, a master of his craft. you’re not at all shocked that women were lining up to have their turn.

you quiver when he pulls away, thighs pressed together in a bid to satiate the ache left in his wake.

his thumb traces your clothed slit, pressing into your hole just to come right back up and circle your clit. it’s almost as if you can feel your brain chemistry changing with every single touch, destined to haunt every other encounter you’d have after this.

no one had nor would ever touch your body with such sincerity and care again. it just wasn’t possible.

arousal seeps out, turning the gray coloured cotton darker, literally dripping with want for him.

your hands come up to hide your warm face, covering your eyes, mostly as an excuse to cut the weighted eye contact he hadn’t once broken.

but his hands are fast, faster than yours. coming to pull yours right back down again, scolding you for even trying it. “don’t do that.. please don’t do that.”

you nod, vowing to do nothing to piss him off again. eddie’s a professional at best, a whore at worst. he knows what’ll get you whirring, knows where to lay his fingers and in what tone to whisper his words.

sickening.

he smirks, one-sided, “i like that you don’t fight it,” trusting you enough to let go of your wrists, delving back between your plush thighs.

words fail to form, overcome with such horniness that you can’t think straight.

enough of the games, you want to bellow.

touch me touch me touch me.

you’re aching, clenching around nothing. the hollow emptiness driving you further and further into craziness.

“can we..” sighing softly, losing your train of thought as quickly as it came, “i need you,” digging your nails into the poor couch. this cruel and twisted routine had to stop.

“nuhuh,” eddie huffs, his warm breath splaying across your cunt, “i’m takin’ my sweet time with you,” using his middle and forefinger this time to dance tauntingly over your pussy, grinning manically to himself.

“but-,” cut off when his fingers curl around your panties, the cool, harsh air hitting your cunt, sending a shiver down your spine.

“wow,” he marvels, looking lovesick at your slick folds, “she’s so pretty,” in awe of the sight before him.

your self-consciousness had faded, losing to your disgustingly eager lust. he could do whatever, however he wanted to you. he just needed to do it quickly.

his tongue peaks out over his lips, preparing for his feast, “you’ve been so patient,” stubble brushing against the inside of your sensitive thigh, “i think you deserve this.”

with that, your panties come down, he doesn’t even need you to move, expertly manoeuvring them from your skin. he cradles the damp fabric between his fingers for a moment before sliding them into the back pocket of his jeans.

you can’t protest, you don’t even want to. he was welcome to take whatever he wanted or needed.

eddie wraps a hand around your calf, resting it upon his shoulder, repeating the motion as your feet settle on his upper back. his palm finds your thigh next, looping his arms around for leverage.

he hums with pure sick, adulterated satisfaction, one last glance at your glistening cunt before meeting your gaze. “keep your eyes on me sweetheart,” kissing lazily at the skin, antagonistically slow to make his way up.

your fingers lay on the couch, scared for what you can and can’t do.

his tongue meets your folds, pulling you out of your worry and into the real world. fuck whatever his rules were, you needed to touch him. weaving frantic fingers through the curls on top of his head, receiving an encouraging hum of approval, his throat vibrating against your cunt.

“oh my.. fuck,” panting into the abyss, unable to stop your hips from moving against his face. you’d fuck his face and any other time, he’d let you, but that wasn’t the plan.

he clamps down on your wriggling hips, keeping them pressed to the couch, refusing to allow you any control over the situation.

eddie’s lips attach to your poorly neglected clit, sucking gently at the bud, forcing the not-so-quiet moans out of your throat, fingers curling around the strands just to tug on them with every flick of his tongue.

the knot in your stomach is tight already, threatening to snap at any moment. especially trying when the tip of nose nudges at your clit, sitting right on top while his tongue makes you see stars, circling around your hole and right back up between your folds.

you’ve never been this wet in your life, arousal dripping from his chin to your ass and thighs. when he pulls away just briefly, his puffy lips gleam in the dim light of your apartment. it’s only momentary though, quickly diving back in to pull you over the edge.

his tongue swipes thick stripes over your cunt, aching for something him to just fill you up. “shit,” you hiss through gritted teeth. your eyes struggle to stay open, he’d forgive you, right? it was no fault of yours that his tongue felt too good, drawing you to the edge just to rip it from under you.

lolling your head back against the arm of the couch, no longer able to abide by his arbitrary rules. your thighs were trembling, fingertips entangled in his locks, nothing except your impending orgasm mattered.

eddie voices his displeasure through a low grumble, only twisting the knot further as his tongue laps at your pussy. a ravenous dog of sorts, refusing to let up until you came on his tongue.

“fu-uck eddie- i can’t.. i’m gonna cum,” vibrating against his ears, feeling his smile against your core. a sick, perverted man that had you exactly where he wanted.

the band snaps, throwing you over the edge with a twist of the stomach, shaking legs that struggle to stay perched on his shoulders and a verse of soft pleas and eddie’s that resemble a hymn.

“.. jesu- shit,” shuddering breaths and mewls that fill the room, letting him lap away at your spent cunt. your limbs mimic jelly, letting go of your hold on his hair to clasp his face.

eddie re-emerges, licking his lips like a cat that got the cream. self-satisfied and completely smug.

coming up to rest his chin on your heaving stomach with inquisitive eyes, his rough stubble catching on your tired skin, “worth the wait?” as if he doesn’t already know the answer.

you nod, rather enthusiastically, “definitely worth it,” playing with the tufts of hair that make up his choppy bangs.

“good,” biting down onto his bottom lip just to pull himself back up, “but i’m not done with you yet,” prying your legs open once more before peeling his shirt from his body, a sight you’ve seen and yet can’t behold.

eddie presses his already stiff cock to your cunt, toying with his prey. there’s nothing left in you to fight it, laying back on the couch with a soft sigh.

no man would ever live up to this, you were now cursed to an unsatisfactory life with whomever you settled for.

his pants come off next, your eyes falling to the outline of his length immediately. eyeing the tiny dark patch and certainly not thinking about him cumming in his pants while eating your pussy.

you’ve seen his cock, and yet, your lips still fall open when he tucks his boxers underneath his balls, fisting his throbbing piece while you go googly-eyed.

“shit,” he remarks, one hand on your knee while the other glides his leaking tip through your slick folds. “no one’s ever been this wet f’me before,” practically purring, his tone thick and full of an animalistic need you had thought was only reserved for porn.

the pleasure rumbles around your nervous system, only to land in your stomach, squeezing the already-snapped muscle once again.

eddie’s hand slides from your knee, up to your thigh, giving your hip a well-meaning pinch before settling beside your head on the couch. your bodies melding into one as he comes down to meet you.

his cock nestles in between once more, slipping inside with a harsh gasp and a visceral grunt. you settle for a grip of his taut shoulders, fingers curling around the muscles and smudgy black tattoos.

this time, eddie buries his face into your neck, suckling at the soft skin, daring to leave his mark when his teeth come out to graze. you hope they last forever, marked by him for eternity.

the sensation is all too much, struggling to stay afloat once more, pushed further and further to edge when his tongue swipes over the violet markings that littered your collarbone.

“holy fuck princess,” he grumbles, partially muffled, “y’gonna cum again already?” breathing heavy and stuttered, struggling with his own premature orgasm.

words don’t appear, and honestly, at this point they didn’t mean a thing.

instead, you nod, squeezing his shoulder in a bid to communicate. you unravel all over again, drawn out moans that get cut off by his lips, thighs shaking around his midriff.

eddie was drinking it all in, intercepting the sweet noises from your mouth with his own, rolling his hips at a more subdued pace as you cum again.

you were spent, utterly exhausted though he doesn’t let up. once you’re over this climax, his rhythm finds pace again. soft palm caressing your cheek while his lips attach to your jaw bone, planting a hundred quick kisses along up to your ear.

with one knee dug into the couch, the other leg holding him up from the floor, it couldn’t be very comfortable for him like this. your pleasure was first and foremost his priority, a real man.

he grunts, driving into your cunt with little consideration for the creaky old couch or your neighbours just trying to enjoy their saturday evening.

“oh god eddie,” you cry. tugging at his scalp, pathetically rutting back against his hips begging for your third? fourth? orgasm to take over.

his carefully groomed pubes catch your clit, dampened by the sheer amount of your arousal.

you were just about ready to sleep for forty days and forty nights, both exhausted and overstimulated by his cock, the weight of his body on top of you and smooth words flowing from his mouth.

“one more sweetheart,” speaking between rugged grunts, panting with every sloppy stroke, “gimme one more,” he coos, hand sliding down to find your clit for the last time.

his cock twitches inside when you buck back against him, fingernails leaving harsh strips on his back, leaving your mark for the next girl.

“shitshitshit,” you rush, coming completely undone again, trembling around his cock, babbling what must sound like pure nonsense to eddie. no doubt letting all of your deepest secrets loose in your third moment of weakness.

“mhm that’s it,” letting his cock slide all the way out, just to reach the hilt over and over again. “inside?” was all he needed to huff for you to get the message, too incoherent to ask any further questions.

“ye-yes please,” not quite understanding the weight of your words until they leave your mouth. a problem for tomorrow.

with that, eddie topples over, his orgasm rippling through his limbs and his cock pumping thick ropes of his release inside your exhausted pussy. your cries intertwining in the hot air to create a chorus line of pleasure.

“jesusfuckingchrist,” he heaves, collapsing in a fit of exhaustion. a sticky pile of limbs that starts with you and ends somewhere with eddie.

everything feels surreal, the light is gleaming and you sort of feel as if you’re floating, watching him pepper your skin with quick kisses and slot himself comfortably on the cramped couch.

eddie cradles your body, fixing your top to give you back the tiniest bit of dignity you had left.

he hums, contemplating something, “‘m glad you called,” swooning, “i don’t know what i’d have done if you hadn’t,” positioning himself underneath your body, a strong arm coming to wrap around your shaking shoulder.

“you would’ve just had to live without me,” chuckling into the sweaty skin of his chest, embracing the lingering arrogance.

eddie hums before shaking his head, “nuhuh, we would’ve met again somehow,” running his finger up and down the length of your arm.

“oh, you think?”

“no, i know,” oozing with confidence. you simply can’t hate it because he’s right.

there’s no instance that your soul would’ve let you rest until this had happened.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #pornstar!eddie munson

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talisidekick · 2 days ago

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Someone tagged this with the following and I actually want to talk about this:

This isn't the first response like this. I've had comments, asks, tags like this one, reblogs, and even comments on other platforms where this has spread to that bring up racism and xenophobia. Whether thats accusing me of being racist or hating immigrants (despite coming from a family if immigrants) or just pointing out, like this person did, the inherent xenophobic attitude the world has for my pharmacist to want to change his first name to an English sounding name. And it gets worse, I was given an English name at birth because my mother wanted me to "have a name that fit in". They weren't English, my last name was German, my great-grandmother who was a pillar in the family used German and Norweigan words mixed in her English that carried into my life and still does to this day. And because I wasn't "English", I still got picked on at school to the point I filtered out the german/norweigan in my vocabulary and learned to mimick accents to remove any germanic lilt I had in my speech.

Point being, I made this post recognizing the inherent xenophobia present. That's one of the reasons I told my pharmacist he didn't need to do that for my sake. I kind of suspected he wasn't just being kind. The way he said it had intent. The next time I saw him, nametag out, proud, it was touching to see the name I was given to protect me from xenophobia going to protect someone else, but also a bit bitter that I know part of the reason for wanting to find an English name was the pressure to blend in and sidestep a LOT of bullshit.

My name now is Germanic, my middle name Italian, my last name Ukrainian, and my nickname I use everywhere to make peoples lives easier is Talia or Tali <- To which I've learned "Tali" is a common short-hand/nickname or name for some in the middle-east (I didn't know, I just mashed up my middle name with my childhood nickname 'T' to get it so my friends would have an easier time transitioning over to my new name and it stuck. I just recently found out from a co-worker who just got back from a trip to the middle east and asked me about it). I'm no longer side-stepping the bullshit, I have noticed a difference in treatment. If people don't know me, and haven't seen me, like when it's over the phone or in email, it takes much longer and I have to be more precise with my wording. In fact, I've noticed it a bit when in person too. Next to my English named co-workers, I am treated by some like I know less and I'm scruitinized a bit more. Now obviously if I was a woman of colour and not off-white canvas, this would be 10-times worse in ways I'm not qualified or experienced to explain or get into. I'll leave that to someone WITH that kind of experience to get into.

I've never mentioned whether my pharmacist is a coloured man or not, and I never will. It's not that it "doesn't matter", every aspect of that man shapes his existence and experience of this life. I'm just not clarifying because the moment I do, I know some of you are going to solely focus on his race and miss the nuance of everything this post is about. It's about transgender positivity, discrimination, humour, and the kind-hearted actions of an incredible man in his journey of immigration. By leaving him faceless, every one of you brings something of yourself to this post. Be it simple joy, or further commentary.

The person who tagged this post is one of many who've accurately pointed out one underlying truth about this post. Not everyone is treated equally in society. This happened in Canada. Do you begin to understand the depths this post goes to with all that I've said here? With what you now know about me? Because I think some of you should now re-read the post again.

A while back my pharmacist saw my deadname on my profile and accidentially called it out, he corrected and deleted my deadname from the system so only my preferred name shows up now. There was a crowd of people behind me, so as he hands over the pills he apologized, in equal tone and volume as when he called my deadname and lied saying it's been a long day and he didn't mean to call out -his own- name. I quietly told him it was fine and he didn't need to do that for my sake.

His response: "No, it's my name now."

I went to the pharmacist yesterday, his nametag is my deadname. He informed me he's immigrating and in the process he's changed his first name to my deadname to have an English sounding name. That's why he's now able to get a reprint of his nametag to be my deadname. And repeated, with the intense seriousness of someone who is going to die on this hill: "It's mine now. Not yours. I'm taking." His tone indicated that decision is final.

Bro literally deadnamed me once, and has committed to flat out stealing my deadname. It's his now. Legally. Officially. I over heard his co-workers call him by the name.

#talisidekick #talisidekick things

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bettys-redwinesupernova · 3 days ago

Text

BEGIN AGAIN

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a revenge plan turns complicated when y/n falls for rafe cameron—the one person she was never supposed to love. but was it ever just revenge?

based on this ask !! this request has been in the works for a couple weeks (hence the 5k word count😝), i really really enjoyed writing this and as soon as i read it i knew i had to make it inspired by ‘begin again,’ and i hope you don’t mind me taking creative liberty on this one anon, so thank you !! <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: some angst but a fluff ending, cheating (jj to reader), soft!rafe, cursing, allusions to sex, revenge plan to lovers (?), alcohol consumption, rafe has a normal family in this one (😀). (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 5.3k (i got insanely carried away🫣)

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N could still feel the sting of JJ's words, the way they sliced through her like a dull knife—slow, painful, irreparable.

"It just happened, okay?" he had said, desperation laced in his voice. "It didn't mean anything, baby. I swear."

But it did.

If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have done it. If it had meant nothing, he wouldn't have shattered her trust, her love, her belief in him with a single, reckless mistake.

She stared at him, chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, hands curled into fists at her sides. The night air was thick with humidity, the salty ocean breeze doing nothing to cool the fire burning inside her.

"You cheated on me with Kiara?" she spat, her voice trembling, though not with sadness—no, sadness was something she'd felt the moment the words left his mouth. Now, it was only rage. "And you expect me to just—what? Pretend it didn't happen?"

JJ ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, looking more disheveled than usual. "I was drunk, Y/N. It wasn't planned. It wasn't—"

"Don't," she cut him off sharply. "Don't stand there and try to make excuses." She scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know what hurts the most, JJ? It's not even just the cheating. It's the fact that I defended you to everyone. My parents, my friends. They all told me I was stupid for choosing a Pogue over every other guy who actually makes sense for me. But I didn't care, because I loved you."

Her voice broke, but she swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep it together.

"And what did you do with that?" she continued, taking a step closer, her eyes blazing. "You threw it in my face. You embarrassed me."

JJ's jaw clenched. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N. You know that."

"Yeah? Well, you did."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

Y/N could see it in his face—the guilt, the regret. But it didn't matter. It wasn't enough. It never would be.

She took a deep breath, exhaling shakily. "We're done, JJ."

His head snapped up. "Y/N—"

"Don't," she warned, her voice final. "You made your choice. Now I'm making mine."

And with that, she turned and walked away, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing her break.

She didn't cry.

Not when she got home, not when she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, not even when the memories of JJ and everything they had crashed over her like a tidal wave. No, she didn't cry.

She just got angry.

Because she had been loyal. She had been good to him. She had given him everything, only for him to betray her with Kiara of all people—the one girl she had actually trusted.

And now? Now, she wanted him to hurt.

Which was exactly why she was standing in front of Tannyhill, her heart pounding in her chest.

This was reckless. Dangerous, even. But she didn't care.

She needed this.

She needed revenge.

And she knew just the person to help her get it.

—

Rafe Cameron was a lot of things—arrogant, temperamental, a little unhinged—but he wasn't stupid.

So when Y/N showed up at his door at nearly midnight, looking like she was on the verge of either committing murder or breaking down completely, he knew something had happened.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, blue eyes scanning her face. "What do you want, sweetheart?"

She swallowed, straightening her shoulders. "I need your help."

Rafe raised a brow. "With what?"

"Making JJ regret everything."

A slow smirk curled at the corners of his lips. "Interesting."

She exhaled sharply, stepping closer. "Are you in or not?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "You really wanna do this?"

She met his gaze, unwavering. "Yeah, I do."

For a moment, he just studied her, as if trying to figure out how serious she was. Then, something shifted in his expression.

"Alright," he said, pushing off the doorframe. "Let's make him suffer."

The plan was simple.

Make JJ jealous. Make him see what he lost. Make him regret ever touching Kiara.

But some point during that evening, the lines blurred.

Because Rafe was Rafe—intense, intoxicating, dangerously charismatic. And Y/N was already teetering on the edge of self-destruction.

So when they ended up in his bedroom, the door slamming shut behind them, it wasn't just about JJ anymore.

It was about the way Rafe looked at her, like she was the most interesting thing in the room. The way his hands skimmed her waist, his touch possessive yet careful. The way his breath fanned against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Still thinking about JJ?" he murmured, fingers tracing slow patterns on her hip.

She met his gaze, lips parted, heart pounding.

"No," she admitted, and it was the truth.

Because in that moment, it wasn't about revenge. It wasn't about making JJ jealous.

It was about the fire in her veins, the ache in her chest, the desperate need to feel something other than betrayal.

And Rafe—Rafe was more than willing to oblige.

His lips crashed against hers, and suddenly, nothing else mattered. Nothing except Rafe Cameron.

—

Y/N lay beside Rafe, her body still humming from the events of the night. The air between them was thick with something she couldn't quite name—satisfaction, exhilaration, maybe even something deeper. The sheets were a mess, tangled between them as she stared up at the ceiling, trying to steady her breathing.

Beside her, Rafe propped himself up on one elbow, smirking down at her. His hair was tousled, his lips still slightly swollen from their heated encounter. There was something different about the way he was looking at her, but Y/N shoved that thought away before she could entertain it. This wasn't about them. This wasn't about feelings.

It was about revenge.

"So, how do you wanna play this?" Rafe asked, tracing his fingers lazily over her bare shoulder.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, eyes sharp despite the haziness of their moment. "We make it obvious enough that JJ notices," she said, her voice steady, as if the way his touch sent shivers down her spine wasn't affecting her. "But not so obvious that it looks fake."

Rafe chuckled. "So, we make it look real then?"

Y/N hesitated. She knew what he was doing��he liked to mess with her, push her buttons, see how far he could get under her skin. But she wouldn't let him win.

"Exactly," she said, rolling onto her side, meeting his gaze head-on. "You're his biggest enemy, and I'm his biggest mistake. Nothing will drive him crazier than seeing me with you."

Rafe's smirk widened. "You really are ruthless when you want to be."

"You have no idea."

Rafe hummed in amusement, and with that, their arrangement was set.

This was about JJ. About making him regret everything.

At least, that's what Y/N told herself.

—

The first time they made their "relationship" public, it was calculated. Rafe had picked her up from the country club in his Pogue-killer truck, windows down, music blasting—just in time for JJ to see them as he passed by on his dirt bike.

JJ had stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing, jaw clenching so hard Y/N thought his teeth might break.

Rafe had played it up, resting his hand on her thigh, flashing JJ a taunting grin before speeding off.

Y/N had expected to feel triumphant.

Instead, her stomach twisted in a way she didn't understand.

—

The first time Rafe showed up early, it threw her off.

She had told him to meet her for coffee on a random Wednesday, expecting the usual—him strolling in twenty minutes late, making some sarcastic remark, turning their little arrangement into something that felt like a joke.

But when she walked in, he was already there.

Sitting at a corner table, legs stretched out, arms crossed over his chest. And when he saw her, he stood up, gave her a small nod.

"You're early," she said, eyebrows raised.

"You sound surprised."

"I am surprised."

Rafe smirked, pulling out the chair for her. "Sit down, princess."

She hesitated before taking the seat, watching him as he slid into the chair across from her. It felt... strange. Unfamiliar.

JJ had never been early.

JJ had never pulled out her chair.

She shook the thought away, focusing instead on the game they were playing. That's all it was—a game.

Still, she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened when Rafe leaned back in his chair, looking at her like she was something worth paying attention to.

After they made their orders, they sat with their freshly brewed drinks.

"Didn't take you for a latte girl," he teased, nodding at her cup.

Y/N raised a brow. "Didn't take you for someone who hangs out anywhere that doesn't serve alcohol."

Rafe smirked. "Touché."

It should have been a quick meeting—just another public sighting to stir the pot. But somehow, they ended up talking.

Really talking.

Y/N had expected him to flirt, to push the boundaries of their deal, but instead, they talked about their childhood—about summers spent at the club, about the times they'd been forced to sit at boring Kook events together as kids.

Rafe had made her laugh. Genuinely laugh.

She had almost forgotten why they were doing this in the first place.

—

A week later, he picked her up for a party, and she made a point to wear heels.

JJ had always hated when she wore them, always made a face, always grumbled something about her being too tall next to him.

But when she climbed into Rafe's truck, he barely glanced at them before smirking. "Damn," he muttered, eyes dragging up her legs. "Trying to make it harder for me to behave?"

She rolled her eyes, but her stomach did something weird. Something dangerous.

Rafe drove with one hand on the wheel, the other draped over her thigh, his fingers warm and steady.

It was meant to be for show.

For JJ.

So why did it feel like something else?

Later that night at the party, Y/N and Rafe were standing just close enough that people whispered.

JJ was across the yard, watching them with a glare so sharp it could cut through steel.

Y/N should have been paying attention to him, should have been relishing in the jealousy that was the whole point of this.

But instead, she was too focused on Rafe's hand on the small of her back. The way his thumb moved in slow, absentminded circles against her skin.

When she turned to look at him, he wasn't watching JJ.

He was watching her.

—

A couple days later, she almost slipped up.

They were walking down the street after grabbing dinner—something casual, something that wasn't supposed to feel like a date.

She was about to bring up JJ, to remind herself why they were doing this in the first place.

But before she could, Rafe started talking about his family.

"My dad's obsessed with old westerns," he said, shaking his head. "Every Christmas, like clockwork, he makes us watch The Good, the Bad and the Ugly."

Y/N blinked. "Seriously?"

Rafe chuckled. "Swear to God. Every single year. Sarah and I know every damn line."

She found herself laughing, imagining Rafe and Sarah rolling their eyes as Ward Cameron sat in front of the TV, quoting the movie word for word.

JJ had never talked about things like that.

JJ had never let her in like that.

She pushed the thought away, but the seed had already been planted.

—

Then came the night that the shift between them had started to show.

It was late, and they were sitting on the hood of Rafe's truck, looking out over the water.

The party was still going strong down the beach, but they had drifted away from it, neither of them in the mood for drunken chaos.

Rafe took a swig from his beer, then turned to look at her.

"You ever gonna tell me why you were with him?"

Y/N frowned. "What do you mean?"

Rafe tilted his head. "I just don't get it. You're smart. You've got standards. And yet..." He let the sentence hang.

Y/N huffed, kicking a loose rock off the side of the truck. "He was... fun. He made me feel like I wasn't just another Kook girl. Like I wasn't just..." She trailed off, feeling stupid for saying it out loud.

Rafe was quiet for a second before saying, "He didn't deserve you."

She turned to look at him, expecting the usual sarcasm, but there was none. Just quiet certainty.

Her throat tightened.

"Yeah," she said softly. "I know that now."

And when Rafe threw his head back, laughing at something she said a few minutes later, she thought it was strange.

Strange that he thought she was funny.

Because JJ never did.

—

Another night, they found themselves in his truck, parked by the beach. It had started raining, heavy droplets drumming against the windshield, the air thick with the scent of salt and rain.

Y/N had been rambling about something—some ridiculous Kook drama that, in the grand scheme of things, didn't actually matter.

And then, out of nowhere, Rafe had reached across the console and tucked a strand of damp hair away from her face.

Y/N had gone silent, her heart doing something it definitely shouldn't have been doing.

For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of the rain.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she had asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe had only smirked. "No reason."

But there was a reason.

And it scared her.

She knew things were getting complicated when she started noticing things about him she shouldn't.

Like the way his voice softened when he said her name.

Or the way he always made sure she got home safe, even when they weren't together.

Or the way he never pushed her, never made her feel like this was just some game.

Somewhere along the way, the lines between their act and reality started to blur.

And Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready to figure out what that meant.

—

The moment that nearly shattered her resolve happened at another party.

They had been standing close, laughing about something she couldn't even remember now. And then, without thinking, she had reached up and brushed a piece of hair out of his face.

It had been instinctive. Natural.

But when she realised what she had done, her breath hitched.

Because Rafe was looking at her like she had just changed everything.

And maybe... maybe she had.

Y/N kept telling herself that this was just revenge.

That the way her stomach flipped whenever Rafe touched her was just part of the plan.

That the way she found herself looking for him in crowded rooms was just to keep up the act.

But deep down, she knew.

She had fallen for Rafe Cameron.

—

The room was still heavy with the lingering heat from the night—sheets twisted around their legs, the soft hum of the air conditioning barely cutting through the thick humidity of the night. Y/N lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the whirlwind that had completely changed her life in the past few weeks.

Rafe lay beside her, his body close enough to feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, but far enough that there was space between them—a silent invitation, as if asking her to fill it. His hand rested on his stomach, but his fingers were almost touching hers.

The silence stretched comfortably between them. It wasn't awkward. It wasn't forced. It felt...right.

Y/N turned her head to look at him, the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, casting a glow over his face. He was still as handsome as ever, his jaw sharp, eyes intense even when he was relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. But it wasn't the same cocky smirk that had first drawn her in—this was something different. It was real. It was genuine.

She couldn't stop herself from smiling too. "What are we doing, Rafe?" she asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe turned his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. There was a quiet intensity in them, a look that said he knew exactly what she meant but wasn't sure how to say it either. "I don't know," he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken emotion. "But I think it's something good."

Y/N's heart fluttered, the vulnerability in his voice catching her off guard. Rafe was always the tough guy, the one who hid behind arrogance and bravado, the one who never let anyone see the cracks in his armor. But with her, it was different. She could see it now—the cracks were there, but they weren't flaws. They were pieces of him she could understand, pieces that were human, not just a cold façade.

She reached out, her hand finding his, fingers brushing gently over his knuckles. He didn't pull away. Instead, he laced their fingers together, holding her hand with a tenderness that surprised her.

"Do you regret this?" she asked, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them. She had to know. There were so many things between them, so many things left unsaid, but that was the one question that had been haunting her the most. Did he regret it?

Rafe blinked, the intensity in his gaze softening as he turned his hand to squeeze hers. "No," he answered, his voice steady but with an underlying depth she couldn't ignore. "I don't regret it." He let out a breath, his gaze turning towards the ceiling, as if trying to find the right words. "I thought it was just supposed to be a game, you know? Make JJ jealous, show him that you could move on...but it's not a game anymore."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced. She didn't know how she felt about that—about the fact that it had started with a plan, a scheme, to get back at JJ for everything. But as the days passed, the more time she spent with Rafe, the more she realized just how much they had in common, how well they fit together.

Her fingers traced the lines of his hand as she spoke. "Neither did I," she confessed. "I started this thinking I'd get back at JJ, but...I don't know, something just changed. Somewhere along the way, it stopped being about him."

Rafe's eyes met hers again, a small smile playing at the edges of his mouth. "Yeah," he said, his voice low, but with warmth now. "I know what you mean."

They both lay there in the quiet, holding hands, letting the moment stretch out. There was something peaceful about it—something intimate that neither of them had ever expected when this all began. What started as a plan to make someone else jealous had somehow turned into something much deeper, something neither of them had seen coming.

Y/N shifted slightly, turning onto her side to face him fully. She couldn't deny how she felt anymore. The chemistry between them was undeniable, but it wasn't just that. It was the way they laughed together, the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the room, the way he protected her without even thinking.

"Rafe," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "I think I'm falling in love with you."

Her heart raced in her chest as soon as the words left her mouth. She had said it before, in the past—I love you—but never like this. Never in this way.

Rafe's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling a little faster now, and for a moment, he didn't speak. Instead, he reached out, gently cupping her face in his hands, as if needing to touch her to make sure she was real. His thumb brushed over her cheek, soft and slow, sending a wave of warmth flooding through her.

"You're not the only one," he whispered back, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm falling for you too, Y/N."

Her breath caught in her throat. The words she had always wanted to hear from him, the words she had never expected to come, were there now. And they were real.

Rafe leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss, soft and slow, like he was savoring it. It wasn't heated or urgent like some of their previous kisses—it was gentle, sweet, and full of the unspoken feelings they had been holding back. It was everything they hadn't been able to say out loud.

When he pulled away, his forehead rested against hers, and they both just breathed, their hands still entwined, hearts racing in sync.

"I never thought I'd say this," Rafe said quietly, eyes closed as he let out a shaky breath, "but you make me feel like I'm actually worth something."

Y/N's chest tightened. She could feel the weight of his words, the vulnerability he was offering her. He had always been the guy who seemed so confident, so sure of himself, but in this moment, Y/N saw something different. She saw the cracks in his armor, the part of him that had never believed he was good enough for anything—anyone.

And Y/N? She couldn't let him think that way. Not anymore.

"You are worth everything, Rafe," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. "More than you know."

For a long time, they stayed like that—just holding each other, letting the night wash over them, the silence comfortable and full of promises. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the understanding that something had changed. Something real had blossomed between them, and neither of them was running from it anymore.

"I've never felt like this before," Rafe admitted after a while, his voice soft but full of sincerity. "With you, it feels like...like I could actually have something real. Something that isn't just a mess."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "You have it, Rafe. You have me."

And for the first time in a long time, both of them believed it.

—

It had been a couple of weeks since the night Rafe and Y/N had finally confessed their feelings for each other. Their relationship had progressed quickly, but neither of them had hesitated. They had fallen for each other in a way that felt right—organic and effortless. The label was there, official now, and it felt like both of them had finally found what they were looking for.

But as expected, the whispers started circulating quickly. Word of their relationship had gotten out, and it wasn't long before people started noticing—especially JJ.

The evening was warm and humid, a perfect night for a party at the Boneyard. The music was thumping, people were scattered around the yard, drinking and chatting, while others danced under the string lights. Y/N, Rafe, Topper, Sarah, and a few other Kooks were lounging around a table near the fire pit, drinks in hand, chatting casually. For the first time in weeks, Y/N felt at ease. There were no whispers, no judgment about her being with Rafe—only the people she cared about and a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in a long time.

Y/N had spent most of her time with Rafe over the past couple of weeks, getting to know him in a way she never had before. She had always known the confident, rebellious side of him, but she was starting to see the softer side—the one who cared deeply and would go to any lengths to protect the people he loved. They had spent lazy days by the beach, late-night drives, and spontaneous trips to places that weren't on any map. She was falling for him harder every day, but it wasn't just the physical attraction. It was the little things—how he cared about her, how he made her feel, how he treated her like she was everything. He had given her more than she could have ever imagined.

She glanced at Rafe as they laughed with Topper, Sarah, and the others, her hand naturally finding his under the table. Their fingers intertwined, and for a moment, she just savored the feeling of being with someone who made her feel seen, understood, and loved.

But as she was about to say something to Rafe, a familiar figure appeared in her peripheral vision. She stiffened. It was JJ.

JJ stormed over, his face a mixture of anger and desperation, his jaw clenched as he walked straight toward them. Y/N's heart skipped, not knowing what to expect. She knew this confrontation was coming—it was inevitable.

Rafe noticed it too, his hand tightening around Y/N's as JJ approached, but he didn't move. He didn't flinch. He stayed calm, but Y/N could see the subtle tension in his shoulders, his jaw tight as he prepared for whatever was coming.

"Y/N," JJ said, his voice loud enough to be heard over the music. His eyes were frantic, scanning her face. "We need to talk."

Y/N narrowed her eyes, her grip on Rafe's hand tightening. She could feel the anger brewing inside her, but she was trying to keep her composure. Rafe gave her a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing the back of her hand gently.

"I don't think we need to talk, JJ," Y/N said coolly, her voice steady despite the boiling fury inside her. "But if you really need to hear it from me, I'll tell you. I definitely don't want to be with you anymore."

JJ's eyes widened, his face contorting in disbelief. "What the hell, Y/N?" He snapped, glancing at Rafe briefly, his expression turning hostile. "This isn't about him, is it? You don't really like him. You're just trying to get back at me for what I did. It's all a game to you, isn't it?" His voice wavered, a hint of panic creeping into his words.

Y/N could feel the heat rise in her chest, but she didn't back down. "It's not a game, JJ. It's not about you anymore. It's about me." She stood up, her voice booming over the music, silencing the chatter around them. People had stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation unfold.

"You're such a horrible person," Y/N continued, her words sharp and cutting. "You broke me, JJ. You cheated on me with Kiara—our friend. You think I can just forget that? You think I'm some fool who's gonna let you walk back into my life after everything you did?" She took a step closer to him, her eyes locking onto his. "You humiliated me. And you have the audacity to stand here and beg for me back like nothing happened?"

The words tumbled out of her, each one heavier than the last, and with each syllable, Y/N felt like a weight was being lifted off her chest. She was finally letting him have it. All the hurt, all the frustration, the betrayal she had been carrying for weeks—it was all spilling out now, and she couldn't stop it.

"I wish I had gotten with Rafe sooner," she spat, her voice laced with venom. "Because with him, I know what it's like to be truly happy. He doesn't lie to me, he doesn't cheat on me. He shows me what love really is. What I've always deserved."

The group around them murmured, and she noticed Rafe's expression go from unreadable to... something else. He was staring at her, his eyes wide, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. His face softened, and Y/N's heart skipped a beat. This was the first time she'd seen him like this—vulnerable, open, and completely in awe of her.

"Y/N..." JJ began, his voice faltering, but he didn't get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Shut up, JJ," Y/N snapped, glaring at him. "I don't want to hear it anymore. You lost me the second you cheated. And now you're just proving how pathetic you are by begging me to take you back." She shook her head in disgust. "You don't deserve me. And you definitely don't deserve to have me back."

The words echoed in the air as Y/N turned her back on him, her chest heaving with emotion. She felt alive, empowered, and something else—something she hadn't felt in so long. Free.

The group erupted into cheers. Topper raised his drink in the air, Sarah clapped, and a few others cheered Y/N on. It was like she had just dropped a bomb, and the energy in the air shifted. The Kooks were no strangers to drama, but this felt different. This felt like the culmination of everything Y/N had been holding in.

Rafe didn't say anything at first. He just stared at her, wide-eyed, his face unreadable. And for a brief moment, Y/N wondered if she had gone too far. But then, without warning, Rafe stood up. He took her hand in his, pulling her gently away from the crowd, leading her toward the exit.

Y/N didn't say anything as she walked with him. She just wanted to get away from the scene, to take a breath and let the adrenaline settle in her chest. The confrontation had been messy, but it had been cathartic. She had finally stood up for herself, and in doing so, she felt like she had reclaimed something she thought she had lost forever.

When they reached Rafe's car, Y/N paused, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the scene. She turned to face him, her brows furrowed in concern. "I'm sorry for making such a scene back there," she said, her voice quieter now. "I just... I couldn't hold it in anymore."

Rafe looked at her, his expression softening, and before she could say anything else, he pulled her into a kiss.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, but she melted into it instantly. His lips were soft against hers, the kiss slow, deep, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt in that one moment. She kissed him back with equal intensity, the heat of the night surrounding them, but the only thing she could focus on was him—the way he made her feel.

When they pulled apart, Rafe rested his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily. "I've never had anyone defend me like that before," he said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. "No one's ever stood up for me like that, Y/N."

Y/N's heart swelled, the warmth of his words wrapping around her like a protective embrace. "I meant every word," she whispered. "I love you, Rafe. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Rafe's eyes softened, a smile tugging at his lips. "I love you too, Y/N." He kissed her again, a slow, lingering kiss that held all the unspoken things between them.

In that moment, Y/N knew. She had fought for herself. She had found her strength, and now, she had found her true love too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a labour of love and i had SO much fun writing it and i’m so sorry it’s taken a while anon, i just wanted this to be PERFECT !! this has got to be in my top three faves that i’ve written and i hope it’s what you wanted <3

i’ve had this in my drafts (as well as a few more) from the past month of requests, and i’ve just been editing them all now (that’s the toughest part💔), but i’m getting there so thank you all for being so patient <3

522 notes · View notes

bucketbueckers · 2 days ago

Text

TEAM BUECKERS

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, kinda silly, kinda rushed

wc: 5.9k

synopsis: For you and Paige, the line between “friends” and “something more” wasn’t always this blurry. You weren’t quite sure how you got here, and if you were being completely honest, you didn’t know if you were brave enough to ever cross that line fully. It’s not until Paige ropes you into a Valentine’s Day couples contest you realize, with the two of you, that line never really existed at all.

notes: happy (late) valentines day 😋 yes i'm posting this after midnight on february 15 and yes i tried my best to get this out on the 14th when it was, you know, actually valentines day, but i fumbled majorly and im like 50% sorry. not proofread bc im sleepy. i lowkey don't know how to feel about this but i think the end makes up for it but i had an idea for this and it honestly derailed. i still don't know how taglists work (if you've asked and you're not on here, i'm sorry i will just throw up and die if i tag someone who doesn't actually want to be tagged in all of my works i hope u understand, pls be super specific my brain doesn't function like it used to) uhhh so yeah lmk what we think & happy vday 🫶

tags: @jnkbueckers

You and Paige weren’t always like this. There used to be a clear boundary in your friendship, a strictly platonic one where her embrace didn’t make your heart race and where her mischievous smile didn’t fill you with an exasperation that bordered on endearment. You didn’t always wear her jersey at games, didn’t always keep her favorite ice cream stocked in your apartment for nights she came over to binge watch the same show the both of you have probably seen a combined thousand times, didn’t always confuse where you begin or where she ends. There used to be a time where the two of you weren’t so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives.

If anyone asked, you wouldn’t be able to identify when everything shifted – when your feelings transformed into what they are now. It just happened. The realization was as easy as waking up next to her on the couch, your legs tangled under a blanket far too small for the both of you, her arm tight around your waist to prevent you from falling off of the cushions entirely. It was as easy as the spare toothbrush you keep in your bathroom because she sleeps over so often, as easy as the drawer you have in her room because sometimes her dorm is just closer than your apartment.

So maybe it was kind of inevitable that ‘you and Paige’ turned into a ‘You & Paige.’ The two of you have a simple understanding. You keep her grounded, she encourages you to dream a little bigger. You talk, she listens. You round each other out in so many ways that you’re not the least bit surprised by how many people think that you and Paige are dating. If anything, they’re more surprised when you correct them, saying, “She’s just my best friend.”

You’re content to take your feelings for her to the grave. Maybe you would get over her eventually. She’s Paige Bueckers. She has a national championship and the upcoming draft to focus on and you have your senior thesis due at the end of the semester. The both of you have a lot on your plates – you care for her too much to complicate things for her, even if that means putting your own feelings on the back-burner.

You’re sitting on your couch, twelve pages into your paper, sifting through the twenty-eight (yes, twenty-eight) tabs you have open for your research when you hear your door knob jiggle. You don’t think too much of it, trying to stay focused on the task in front of you before you give up and start scrolling through social media again. However, your discipline doesn’t last for too long because the familiar rhythm of footsteps could only belong to one person. You look up to find Paige making her way into your living room like she owns the place (which she may as well, considering how often she’s around), depositing her duffle bag on the armchair. You greet her, returning to your work, but you feel the couch dip under her weight as she takes a seat next to you.

And then she sighs. Loudly. Dramatically, like she’s begging for your attention. Like you’re not busy. You glance at her from the corner of your eye, finding her staring straight at you, but she says nothing. A few beats pass. You add a new sentence to your paper, pausing to go back and find the reference page. She sighs again, more purpose and intent behind it this time, and your lips quirk slightly. Still, she says nothing, and the silence stretches on for so long that you’re sure she’s given up on trying to annoy you.

You write one more sentence before she leans over, sprawling out across your body, chin pressing into your keyboard. Your eye twitches as a long string of ‘M’s takes over your Word document. Paige sighs again, sounding forlorn, like a kicked puppy, and you know you’re not going to get anything done unless you entertain her.

“Okay,” you say, pulling your computer out from under her head, making sure to save your paper before you close the lid. “What’s wrong?”

Her face brightens almost immediately. “I am so glad you asked,” she states. “So, I’m walkin’ through campus today, right?”

“As one does.”

She hums. “And there’s a shit ton of tabling outside the student union. Frats, clubs, some vegan guy giving out pamphlets –”

“Paige,” you interrupt, raising a brow. “The point?”

��Oh.” She nods, collecting her thoughts. “So there was this club – forgot who they were, lowkey, there was a lot of letters – but on Friday, they’re hostin’ a Valentine’s Day contest and the first place prize is insane. I’m talking gift cards, cookie decorating kits, I think there was even a coupon in there for a fucking spa trip, or some shit, but you get the point, yeah? I wanted to sign us up for it.”

You had to admit – you were a little intrigued by it. Between your class work and Paige and her teammates giving you an aneurysm every week, you were in dire need of a spa trip and a little bit of relaxation. But more than anything else in the world, you knew Paige. You recognized that gleam in her expression – it was a feigned nonchalance, like she was being slick and trying to hide it. “What’s the catch?” you ask bluntly.

She laughs, the sound more surprised than amused, and her head shifts in your lap to gaze up at you. You try to ignore the way it sets off a swarm of butterflies in your belly. “What makes you think there’s a catch?” she asks.

“You’re Paige Bueckers,” you state. “There’s always a catch. Like I knew there was a catch when you asked me if I would hide fourteen blonde wigs in my apartment.”

“They were for CD!” she argues. You narrow your eyes at her and she huffs a little, amused, her lips quirking into a radiant smile. “A’ight. I guess you got a point.” You hum, because of course you do. Her expression turns serious as she sighs, for real this time. “It’s a couple’s contest,” she admits. “But hear me out, okay?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice,” you grumble, but your mind is racing.

“There’s a couple rounds,” she explains. “Like, the first round is trivia. How well do you know your partner, type shit. They score you, then they eliminate the people who don’t know shit about their partners. Second round is teamwork. They’ll give you a couple of puzzles and the most points will go to the teams who work well together and solve the puzzle quickly. More eliminations, then the partners are separated and they’re asked questions about each other – about what, I’on know. That should be the final round of eliminations and then the remaining couples are ranked based on points and prizes are given. Light work.”

“Light work?” you echo, a little self-deprecating. “Paige, we aren’t a couple.”

“Well, not exactly,” she concedes. “But we know each other pretty well. And can you really say no to the spa coupon?”

You bite your lip, sighing as you truly contemplate it. She’s got you there. The prize itself is worth the heartache that will come with pretending like you and Paige are actually dating. “You sure we can handle it?” you ask.

She pats your side, almost ignorant of the way it sends electricity coursing down your spine. “Duh,” she says like it’s obvious, her lips growing into a confident, assured smile. “We’re a dream team, baby. We got this.”

You could only hope so.

You nervously adjust your dress as you and Paige stand outside of the large room that the Valentine’s Day contest was taking place in. You spent the entire week leading up to Valentine’s Day an anxious wreck – part of you was worried that you would slip up and say something that you would come to regret, maybe say something a little too real. You had to keep reminding yourself that you and Paige were playing a part and once that gift basket was in your hands, then things could go back to normal.

The two of you dedicated the better part of the week to perfecting your cover story. How you met, where you met, how long you’ve been together, all of the cheesy romance milestone moments that you were certain you’d be asked about. You mutually decided to not get too creative as maintaining the lie would become even more difficult, but you were confident in your ability to sell a story.

“You ready?” Paige asks you, drawing you from your racing thoughts as she squeezes your hand gently. You didn’t even realize her hand had slipped into yours. Now that you’re aware of it, it’s all you can think of. Her hand is strong, enveloping yours completely, and it brings you a calming peace you weren’t even aware that you’d been seeking out. Feeling yourself relax, you meet her eyes and nod, trying not to smile too hard when she beams at you.

As she leads the two of you inside the auditorium, you do your best to not stare too much at her. She’s dressed simply yet elegantly; donning a fitting suit that’s a light pink in color in honor of the occasion, the fluorescent lights overhead reflecting off of her stunning chains and the rings adorning her fingers. Her hair is tied back in her formal slick-back, the diamonds in her ears sparkling, and you really have to drag your eyes off of her. You’d already spent so much of the drive over staring at her and you’re sure she’d caught you a few times but was too nice to say anything to you.

The event had a decent turn out. You count fourteen couples at most, fifteen including you and Paige, although you couldn’t really tell if that was good or bad. Beating fourteen other real, actual, dedicated, in-love couples was totally manageable. So what if you and Paige weren’t actually together, but you were the most convincing pair of best friends the world had ever seen? She said you could do it, and damn it if you weren’t going to get that spa treatment.

The auditorium, however, was decorated to the nines. Lights and streamers were strewn about, various complementing shades of pinks and lilacs matching the Valentine’s Day themes. The tables were covered in pink tablecloths with gorgeous centerpieces. Honestly, you had to give props where they were due – this club has gone all out for this Valentine’s Day event, although you’re sure they probably splurged their semesterly budget on all of the amenities.

Before you or Paige have the chance to say anything to each other, you’re approached by a young woman wearing a pink polo shirt with the club's name and logo emblazoned on the chest. UConn, UMatter. You glance quickly at Paige, trying not to let the amusement show on your face as you remember her words – ‘There was a lot of letters.’ She was so full of shit. “Hi guys!” the young woman greets enthusiastically. “Thanks so much for signing up. What’s the last name?”

“Bueckers.”

The girl nods, scanning her clipboard before finding Paige’s name. “Okay, perfect. Let me show you guys to your table.” She leads you diligently through the room, craning her head over her shoulder to explain. “Madelyn’s gonna be around soon to walk you guys through the trivia section once we start, alright? She’ll let you guys know everything you need.”

You and Paige thank the club member and she offers you two one last smile as the two of you sit down next to each other. Paige’s hand finds your knee, almost subconsciously, and you try to find your dignity. It’s then that you notice the placecard in front of you – elegant script reading TEAM BUECKERS. With a quiet laugh, you nudge Paige’s elbow, drawing her attention to the paper. “‘Team Bueckers,’ huh?” you ask her teasingly. “You forget about me?”

“Never,” she swears. “I think they assign the names based on who registered. Trust me, I had a name lined up and everything. We were gonna be PB & Slay.”

You snort. “I’m Slay?”

“No,” she deadpans. “You’re PB. Keep up, please.”

“Of course,” you say obviously, like it’s definitely your fault. “I’ll do better next time.” She squeezes your knee under the table, smiling wryly at you.

Once everyone filters in, the girl who’d greeted you at the door makes her way to the front of the room, adjusting the microphone. She introduces herself as the president of the UConn, UMatter club, explaining some of their objectives and goals for the spring semester – you tune out a lot of it, which you’ll probably feel bad for later, but you weren’t here for the club recruitment. You were here for the pedicure that was calling your name this weekend. She makes it through the rest of her opening remarks, officially announcing the beginning of the first challenge: trivia. Several club members make their way to designated tables and a short, brunette girl takes a seat in front of you and Paige.

“Hey, guys,” she says, grinning widely and handing the both of you dry erase boards and a marker each. “I’m Madelyn. I’m gonna walk the two of you through today’s challenges. We’ll go back and forth – you answer one, then the other, so on and so forth. If your answers are the same, then you’ll get a point. Ready?” You and Paige hum affirmatively. “Alright. Question for Paige – when is your partner’s birthday?”

Paige huffs, her lips quirking into a smile as she uncaps her marker. “Light work,” she murmurs as she writes her answer down. “It’s a national holiday.” You roll your eyes as Madelyn laughs. Paige flips the dry erase board around, showcasing it to you and Madelyn, and you nod as Madelyn awards you both one point.

“Same question for you,” Madelyn says to you. “When is Paige’s birthday?”

You uncap your marker and write down your answer. October 20, 2001. “The world hasn’t known peace since,” you murmur under your breath, drawing laughter from Paige. You flip your board around and Paige nods smugly.

“Two for two,” Madelyn states. “Next question for Paige. What trait of yours is your partner’s favorite?”

You and Paige exchange a glance, her brow raising teasingly. She writes down her answer and you do the same, eventually flipping your boards over for the reveal. The two of you hadn’t exactly prepared well to answer this one, so you were hoping that you and Paige were on the same wavelength. You lean forward, glancing at her whiteboard, and smiling with relief when you see her answer: she likes my energy. Paige’s smile is smug, but there’s an underlying softness in her eyes. “Don’t laugh at me,” you huff, trying to explain. “You just — you have this way about you, like you’re kind, warm, you make people smile, and you always support them. You’re just genuinely good and, I don’t know, I really like that about you.”

Paige’s smile isn’t any less confident, although she seems a little bashful now, her cheeks tinging pink. “Three for three.” she says.

Madelyn tries to stifle her grin, but it’s clearly not working. “Next question is for you. When Paige is having a rough time, how do you help her relax?”

“With great difficulty,” you gripe, making Paige and Madelyn snort as you write your actual answer. By forcing her to chill the fuck out. You and Paige flip your boards, hers reading a much politer She makes me do nothing all day. Madelyn nods, awarding you the point, but you hardly pay her any mind as you meet Paige’s eyes. “You do too much,” you say, which makes her groan. “You overwork yourself and you microdose a burnout and I have to make you sit down and remember that you’re human.”

“You’re worse than me!” she points out.

You sniff. “This is about you,” you declare, “not me.” Paige rolls her eyes fondly, but she can’t help her laughter.

“Next question,” Madelyn says, grinning. “Paige, what did you guys do on your first date?”

This was a question that the two of you had prepared for. You both decided that a little bit of the truth went a long way and the truth was that you and Paige had no shortage of quasi-dates that you could easily draw from. You tried not to think too hard about that as the two of you write down your answers. You turn your boards, revealing similar responses of ‘we went to her dorm and made dinner together after one of her games.’

You glance at Paige and she sighs. “Don’t start,” she pleads.

“I’m actually a little invested now,” Madelyn chirps, which makes you grin and makes Paige bury her head in her hands.

“All I’ll say is that Paige shouldn’t be in the kitchen without supervision but I really admire her, um, willingness to get creative,” you say kindly. Your best friend pinches your thigh under the table and you jerk back, laughing. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of a stranger, you leave it at that, although you smile at Paige like you’re the only two at the table. “I had a good time, though. She made it memorable.” She smiles back at you, something tender that has your heart constricting.

The both of you knew the truth, though. Paige was not a good cook. She doesn’t make terrible food — dinner was delicious, but Paige is chaotic and an actual hazard. Watching her chop an onion hurt something deep inside you although she’d seemed so proud of herself. You didn’t have the heart to make fun of her.

“Five for five,” Madelyn says, drawing your attention back to her. “Next question for you. Who confessed to who?”

You and Paige lock eyes again, a silent conversation passing between the two of you, and you write down her name. You turn your boards, Paige’s name written on the both of them and you smile to yourself. “She was pretty oblivious,” Paige says, referring to you, and your smile falls as your jaw hits the ground. “I dropped so many hints and she just didn’t pick up on them. I eventually got tired—”

“Desperate,” you cut in.

“Tired,” she emphasizes, smirking at you, “so I planned out this huge romantic thing and at the end, she still didn’t understand so I told her straight up.”

You roll your eyes. “Maybe you’re just not as slick as you think,” you tell her.

“Nah,” Paige says. “I’m super romantical.”

“Sure,” you concede.

Madelyn stifles her smile. “Alright. Two more questions for both of you. Paige, what is your partner’s pet peeve?”

“If you get this wrong,” you grumble, hearing Paige snicker as the two of you write down your answers. After you flip your boards, she grins proudly when your answers line up.

“She hates not being taken seriously,” Paige recites. “She’s an English major. People always think it’s just easy or unimportant shit, like reading and writing papers, but she actually does a lot of interesting analysis and stuff that I never even considered. I’ll admit I was a little ignorant but she set me straight.”

“Wait, I didn’t know you thought that,” you say, honestly confused.

She shrugs, a little bashful. “I talk a lot but I listen. Sometimes when you leave the room, I’ll read your paper just so I can ask better questions. You get all… glowy. And… I’on know. I like seeing you happy.”

You blink once at her, genuinely touched, and if you weren’t head over heels for Paige before then you definitely are now. She squeezes your knee again, her smile crooked yet tender. Damn it. You are hopeless.

“That’s so sweet.” You’re a little shocked by Madelyn’s voice, but you clear your throat, refocusing. “Next one for you. What’s Paige’s least favorite season?”

“That’s easy,” you say, writing your answer down. Paige does the same. When you flip your boards, you glance at Paige’s, smiling wryly. “Paige hates spring. She has really bad allergies and all of the pollen is honestly a death sentence, so she’ll get all congested and sneezy and will spend a good two weeks bitching about it and how it makes her Jeep dirty.”

You glance at Paige, waiting for her to say something, but she just shrugs with a smug expression. “Last question for Paige,” Madelyn says. “What is something your partner does to show her love for you?”

Neither of you say anything, but Paige stares at you thoughtfully, another silent conversation passing between you. You don’t need to think about your answer as you write it down. On cue, you both flip your boards, Paige’s reading simply, She takes care of me. You can’t help the way your heart swells, a fond smile overtaking your face. “Before you, I wasn’t really the… you know, the receiver, I guess. Always in control, always expected to lead. You make me feel like I can just be me, which is really hard sometimes.” Paige laughs off the vulnerability, but you see right through it – the painful honesty.

“We’re equals,” you remind her, nudging her leg with your knee. “We take care of each other.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, her voice soft as she gazes at you. “I’m glad that we do.”

You spot Madelyn out of the corner of your eye, which sobers you up quickly. She smiles. “You guys are so cute,” she gushes. “Final question for you and we’re done with this round. What is Paige’s love language?”

You feel Paige’s stare on you as you write, but you don’t glance back at her. You can hear the scribble of her marker, her capping it. When you’re finished, you finally look at her, taking in the soft expression on her face, and despite yourself, a smile grows on your face too. Together, you turn your boards, your answers being the exact same once more — quality time and physical touch. “Ten for ten, baby,” you croon, raising your hand for her to smack her palm against.

“Great job!” Madelyn says. “Let me just go submit these scores and I’ll be back to walk you guys through the puzzle round after eliminations. Sit tight.” She offers the two of you a quick grin before she’s walking off.

“Ten for ten,” Paige repeats, nudging you a little. “We’re like that?”

“I guess we’re actually kinda good at this friends thing,” you retort, although part of you wishes you were anything but.

Paige’s subsequent grin is far too knowing, like she has a trick up her sleeve. “Maybe a little.”

You laugh a little under your breath, adjusting your dress and leaning back in your chair to get comfortable. Before you know it, the scores are officially in. You and Paige had a perfect one, so you weren’t all too worried about getting eliminated in the first round, but five unlucky couples ended up leaving. The two of you watched from afar, trying not to stare too hard at the retreating couples, although they made it hard. One girl walked out crying, gesturing wildly as her partner trailed behind her, a desperate expression on her face. Another one was pure anger, slamming the door behind her. You didn’t think that this club contest would get people so riled up, but you considered that it was probably the realization that your partner truly didn’t know anything about you. You just lucked out with Paige – she understood you.

Madelyn returns quickly and cuts straight to the point. She instructs you and Paige to stand up, handing the both of you a towel, and adjusts your arms until you’re holding the towels perpendicular to each other, almost intertwined. “The goal here is to separate from each other, but it can be tricky because the towels will tangle you up. We’re looking to see how fast you can solve this puzzle and how well the two of you work together. Are you guys ready?” You and Paige nod and Madelyn grins again. “Alright. You can start.”

Instantly, the room around you two is sheer pandemonium. The couples around you are moving quickly, trying to untangle themselves, but it’s clear that the panic is settling in. You and Paige exchange a glance, laughing to each other softly. “Game plan?” she asks you.

“We need to get these like…not perpendicular,” you offer helpfully, and Paige nods, adjusting her arms. The angle change makes your towels bunch up and twist at their centers.

“Spin around,” she instructs. You do as so, the towels untwisting around the middle. You pause to analyze your situation, trying to plan out the moves in your head as Paige does the same.

“Okay, bring your towel over my head and let me step through it.” After that move, the both of you glance down, taking in your situation.

Paige hums. “The rest is easy,” she says. You nod in agreement, a silent understanding passing between the two of you and you move in tandem, twisting and shifting and stepping up until you’re both finally separating from each other in record time, having completed the puzzle. “We’re like that?” she asks you again, her expression smug and satisfied in a way that’s only comparable to when she’s on the court and her lips are curling after sinking a contested three point shot.

“Dream team,” you remind her, letting the victory wash over you, clapping your hand against hers, although she doesn’t immediately release you, squeezing your hand with a proud smile.

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen anyone solve it that quickly,” Madelyn admits. “Or that calmly.” As soon as she says it, a commotion from the other side of the room draws your attention. There’s one couple that are twisted so unnaturally that it looks like they’re playing Twister, but it seems that the girl gets tired of the shenanigans because she drops her towel and storms out with a frustrated yell. “Case in point.”

You laugh and Madelyn walks away again to tally the points and make their final eliminations. Once everything is set, five couples remain out of the initial fifteen. After the last challenge, two couples will be eliminated once more and the remaining three will be given prizes in order of points. You and Paige were determined to finish strong – if the first two challenges were any indicator, you two had this in the bag. True to Paige’s word, the couples were being split up for the last challenge, and she offers you a competitive smile as Madelyn whisks her away.

You pass the time on your phone although Paige isn’t gone for long. However, what does shock you is the sudden bashfulness that’s clear as day on her features, like the last challenge had made her confess something important or she had to be vulnerable. You can’t help the sudden worry that seizes your body, but Paige rests a hand on your hip, squeezing you once with a confident smile. It couldn’t be that bad.

Madelyn leads you into an adjacent room where the president of the club is sitting at a table waiting for you. She smiles when you enter, motioning to the seat across from her, and it feels strangely like entering the principal’s office in elementary school, like you’re in trouble for something. The club president doesn’t spare any time for pleasantries and instead cuts right to the chase, something that you’re grateful for.

“I’m not gonna take up anymore of your time, but after seeing you and your partner perform so well in this contest, I only have two questions for you,” she explains. “This is our second year running this contest and no one has scored as high as you two have, which is kind of insane because the third round scores haven’t been added yet.” You smile politely, honestly unsure of what to say, but the club president continues. “How long have the two of you been together?”

“Going on three months,” you respond, thinking back to the timeline you and Paige had agreed on, hoping your voice doesn’t shake. You are a little surprised by how real your next words feel. “We were best friends for a really long time before then – we still are. Paige is just…that kind of person that makes you feel like you’ve spent forever with her, you know?”

The club president hums, agreeing. She pauses before glancing up at you, studying your features. “What’s something that you haven’t told your girlfriend, but you would want her to know?”

You hardly need the time to think about your answer, responding, “That I love her.” The club president’s expression softens, a smile growing on her face. “We haven’t, um, gotten there yet, but I mean it. I wanna make it perfect for her. She’s given so much to me in the short time we’ve been together and in the time we were friends. And she just…she means everything to me.”

She smiles. “I think you guys are perfect for each other.”

Despite yourself, you smile, a blush spreading across your cheeks. “I think so, too.”

After your solo questioning wraps up, you meet Paige at your table and you offer her a bashful grin, similar to the one she’d offered you when she returned. You don’t have the chance to say anything else to her as the final round of eliminations are being announced. You and Paige are spared, which doesn’t surprise you, and the two eliminated couples take their loss with dignity as they exit. Paige links her hand with yours – final three. In third place, Team Parker. In second…Team Hayes, which means that first place can only be –

“Team Bueckers.”

You and Paige relax immediately, high fiving each other in celebration. What you’re not fully expecting is the tight hug that Paige pulls you into, whispering a fond good job into your ear, although you can’t help the way you soften, sinking into her embrace. She leads you to the center of the room to collect your goodie basket. The various club members send you off with their congratulations, too, and you pretend to not notice the slick wink that Madelyn shoots you as you and Paige walk out.

The night air is cool, making you shiver slightly, and Paige doesn’t hesitate before she’s sliding off her blazer and settling it over your shoulders. You smile gently at her. “You won’t be cold?” you murmur.

“Nah,” she promises, nudging you. “I can handle it. You, though? I’on know.”

“That’s no way to treat someone who just won you these spa coupons,” you say, reaching into the gift basket to wave said coupons in the air. “C’mon, I clutched up, you can’t lie. And to think you wouldn’t have even had a partner for this if you didn’t rope me into it. I think we played our parts pretty well.”

Paige laughs gently, a tinkling sound that carries over the drag of the wind. “You still don’t get it, do you?” she asks, but there’s no true offense behind her words.

You stare at her in confusion. “Get what?” you respond.

“Do you remember that question Madelyn asked you earlier?” Paige says, her steps slowing, tilting her head down to look at you. The street lights reflect off of her face so beautifully, the blue of her eyes illuminated by the soft light. You can’t help the way your heart constricts at the sight. “‘Who confessed to who?’” You hum, urging her to go on. “You remember what I said? That you were oblivious and I dropped a lot of hints you didn’t pick up on?”

The gears in your brain spin for a few revolutions before everything clicks into place. “Oh my God,” you breathe out. “Are you–”

“Confessing?” she says, her lips quirking into a smile. “Yeah.”

“You dropped hints before?”

“So many,” she confirms.

“Oh my God,” you say again. You stop in your tracks, prompting her to do the same. The expression on her face is endlessly amused. “You planned a huge romantic thing – this?”

She shrugs. “The contest was the club’s shit, but yeah. I planned on asking you to come with me to this. I didn’t actually care about the prize, but the coupons are pretty sweet, right?”

You shake your head, ignoring her rambling. “You planned a huge romantic thing, but I still didn’t get it at the end, so you told me straight up,” you finish, partly in disbelief. “You think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” you accuse, which just makes her break out into laughter. “You literally sat next to me and told me exactly how you were going to ask me out and I didn’t know? And not only did you do that, but you were right about it?”

“I know you,” Paige says a little smugly. “And I told you that I could be romantical.”

“You are such a pain in my ass,” you whisper, but her arm is slinking around your waist, pulling you into her body as she grins insufferably, and you let yourself be pulled, your hands resting on her chest. “You are literally so annoying.”

Her nose brushes yours as she inches a little closer. “You know what they asked me in the final round?” she says, her voice loud enough for only you to hear. You nod. “They said, ‘What’s something you haven’t told your partner, but you’d like to?’”

“Funny,” you say. “They asked me the same thing.”

She smiles at you. “I told them I’d tell you that I love you,” she confesses.

Your cheeks burn as you register her words. “Funny,” you say again. “I told them the same thing.”

Her expression shifts, something like relief flashing in her eyes, something tender in her gaze. “Did you?”

“Well, I told them that’s what I would tell my girlfriend,” you trail off intentionally. “Seeing as I don’t currently have one of those…”

“Don’t play,” Paige murmurs, squeezing your hip gently, drawing a laugh from you. “Be mine?”

“You gonna share those coupons?”

Her eyes are bright when she responds. “I’on even care about them. Just want you.”

“You’ve got me.”

That promise is all she needs. She smiles at you, happiness in her features, and she doesn’t waste any time before she’s leaning in fully, her lips finding yours. You’re eagerly responding, melting into her as her arm tightens around your waist. You loop yours around her neck, standing on the tips of the toes for better leverage. Before you know it, her grin grows too wide and the two of you are laughing against each other’s lips, the sound of your love and giddiness the perfect way to end a perfect night. If you had Paige Bueckers and her annoyingly charming antics to look forward to, then one thing is for certain – you couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for Valentine’s Day next year.

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #ncaa wbb #wbb x reader

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hahashifts · 3 days ago

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Villain POV

Well this was unexpected. Not at all how I'd expected this night to go. The hero of the city, bleeding and broken on my doorstep, because this was the only place they could think of to go that would be safe.

I surpressed the warmth rising in me, strange sensation - probably mere indigestion from dinner. Regardless, the bane of my existence was in my arms and I was putting her on my sofa. I could hear the men who had done this to her racing straight for my home.

Good. They will taste my wrath and I will dwell out the vengeance for the fallen hero they defiled with their wretched hands. I'd relieve them of the damned appendages before I ended their miserable life's. Make an example of them for any others that may try to follow in their footsteps.

Being a villain, sewing chaos and disorder and fighting against the system is one thing, but cruelty and vileness for the sake of it was a disgrace that couldn't be forgiven.

The little heroes light was out, her magic somewhere far away. It would return to her or they would suffer all the more for it. But she was stable enough for me to deal with the trash quickly approaching my doorstep. No need to sully the furnishings with their blood.

I stepped over the threshold of my domicile and closed the door just as they approached me. Three men, all clearly drunk.

"Good evening, gentlemen." I sneered as I smelled her blood on them. I saw red. "It appears you put your hands on something that doesn't belong to you," and in one smooth motion my sword was out and had sliced through each of their wrists like slicing butter and their screams pierced the night air as they realized, stunned and eyes bulging, as all 6 pairs of their hands fell from their wrists to the cobblestone streets. "You do know the punishment for assault and rape, I presume? Good."

I kicked the man in front of me, reeking of ale and her blood, his kneecap shattering from the impact and wrenched his head down into the stone beneath me hard enough to shatter his teeth and crack open his skull. It was easy to pick him up and throw him across the courtyard, as if he weighed no less than a rabbit.

The next man had bruised knuckles and more of her blood on his shirt and neck, so I removed his jugular and tossed it toward one of the alley cats that had snuck nearby, hearing the commotion. Sputtering and attempting to grasp at his gaping neck with the stubs of his bleeding arms he fell to his knees and it was a simple thing to twist his neck and end him.

It wasn't on purpose, of course, but his head was a full 180° when I let him go.

The third man was screaming and attempting to run away, the coward, but he slipped on his friends blood and fell with enough force that he bit through his own tongue, severing the appendage so I didn't even have to go through the effort of doing it myself. I loved how fate often worked in this way.

He, however, had clearly touched the precious jewel that was bleeding all over his vintage velvet sofa, and for that he needed to suffer.

There was a fountain in the middle of the courtyard, but that was too good for the scum. No, he would need - Perfect.

Grabbing him by the collar it was an easy thing to drag him to the nearest puddle and shove his face into the muddy, disgusting city water, keeping my boot pressed tightly to the back of his neck so he could struggle and kick but with no hands and his severed tongue it was only a matter of whether he would bleed out or drown in the shallow puddle.

It didn't really matter to me, so long as his death was painful and as humiliating as she must have felt fleeing through the streets half naked with torn clothes and a bleeding temple.

Red swarmed my vision again and the maggot beneath me was still squirming, so I snapped his thigh with my other boot and put all my pressure on the back of his neck, killing him soundly.

It was a simple call to some of my guys to have them come clean up the bodies and the blood, and I left the cats to lap at the blood pooling in the streets and the bodies left for the rats.

My men knew not to bury them, but leave them out somewhere for the animals, for that was the only fitting end for them.

When I returned her breathing was shallow but some of that inner light was beginning to shine through, just barely pulsing with her heartbeat like a constellation of silver glowing freckles, dim, but there.

I sighed with relief.

She'd... Trusted me. Trusted me when she was at her most vulnerable. It was an odd feeling, one that I hadn't felt in... I'm not even sure when.

Decades, if I had to guess.

I quickly cleaned the blood off me and whatever other remnants were left of the maggots, then got to work on cleaning and bandaging the damaged girl on his couch.

Enemy, he tried to remind himself.

But looking at her, the way she'd looked at him when he opened the door as if he was her salvation...

That stirring and flickering of warmth in my chest flared up again. Had I been poisoned? Surely not, it was just her presence, of course. I'd felt this way around her since we'd had our first run in two years ago. Some reaction to her innate inner magic, I'd assumed. It was proof of how powerful she was, part of what made her such a fantastic adversary.

But what had been done to her tonight... What had she been doing on this side of the river in the first place? Alone?

Nobody was to lay hands on her except for me, everyone knows that. Everyone in the underground knows, everyone on the river knows, everyone in the city knows she's mine. Doing this to her, especially those nobodies? They'd be lucky if any of their crew made it to see tomorrow.

She was in rough shape. She had a black eye, split lip, nearly broken cheekbone, cut on her temple that had stopped bleeding, finally.

Damn head wounds bleed so much on these half linggs, I had nearly forgotten. I covered her with a blanket when I'd first brought her inside and laid her on my couch, partly for her sake, partly for the sake of my dear quiet corner of this shit hole of a city.

I was fairly certain they hadn't gotten as far as they had probably hoped, but I'd never seen the kind of fear in her eyes as I did when I opened that damn door tonight. She was terrified. And she'd probably never admit it. But I'd seen it. And she'd trusted me.

In this, I wouldn't break that trust. There were few things I bothered to do right these days, but I did have a code, and it was no hard feat to fit protecting her - my enemy - from her enemies and those that would do her harm.

The hero shows up at the villain’s doorstep one night. They’re shivering, bleeding, scared. There’s also a slightly dazed look in their eyes– they were drugged. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they’re close to passing out, they mumble “…didn’t know where else to go…” then collapse into the villain’s arms.

#writing prompt #writers on tumblr #writing #villain x hero #enemies to lovers

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solxamber · 3 days ago

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Giving Them Chocolates on Valentine's Day with: Ignihyde

Go here for other dorms

(platonic ortho)

Idia Shroud

You almost regret how direct you are.

Because the second you hold out the chocolates and say, “These are for you, Idia. I like you,” he looks like he’s either going to faint or straight-up perish.

His hair flashes flaming pink. His pupils shrink. His shoulders tense so hard that you can almost hear his soul leaving his body.

“…W-What?” His voice cracks. He immediately clears his throat, gripping his tablet like a lifeline. “You’re—wait, hold up, pause—you’re joking, right?”

You frown. “Why would I joke about this?”

His entire existence malfunctions. He physically leans away from you like he needs to social distance from his own feelings.

“B-Because! You—me—this—!” He waves his hands in the air, looking more and more like he’s about to blue screen. “I mean, what kind of main character energy timeline is this?! There’s no way—this isn’t real life—"

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Idia.”

He flinches.

“I’m serious,” you say, firm but soft. “I like you. You. Just you.”

His breath catches.

His hair flickers again—brighter, more erratic—and suddenly, he’s curling in on himself, gripping his hoodie like it’s his armor.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, sounding utterly doomed. “Oh my god.”

You wait, letting him process.

And then—so, so quietly, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it out loud—

“…I like you too.”

Your heart stutters.

His face flushes completely, and he immediately hides behind his sleeves, his voice muffled as he groans, “Ughhh, don’t look at me, I’m being cringe—”

You laugh, shaking your head. “You’re fine, Idia.”

“Nope, incorrect, literally having a cardiac event right now, please hold—”

You grin. “Then I guess now’s a bad time to ask if you wanna hang out?”

He pauses.

You watch as his brain visibly reboots, the panic flickering into something else. Something… hopeful.

“Uh.” He fidgets with his sleeves, glancing away. “…You, um. Y’know. Wanna stay and watch a movie or something?”

Your chest warms.

You nod, smiling. “I’d love to.”

Idia freezes again. Then, with one last tiny, flustered squeak, he scoots over on his bean bag, giving you space to sit beside him.

His hair is still pink.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho lights up immediately when you hand him the chocolates, his eyes glowing brighter as he carefully takes the box from your hands.

“For me?” he asks, tilting his head, excitement clear in his voice.

You nod, smiling. “Yeah. I just… wanted to thank you. You’re a great friend, Ortho.”

For a moment, he’s completely still. Then, his thrusters let out a tiny burst of energy, making him hover slightly like he’s too happy to stay grounded.

“Wow!” he exclaims, holding the chocolates close to his chest. “This is amazing! No one’s ever given me Valentine’s chocolates before!”

Your heart melts. “Well, you deserve it. You’re always looking out for me. It’s about time I gave you a gift for once.”

Ortho lets out a delighted giggle as he zooms forward and pulls you into a hug.

It’s warm, firm, and just tight enough to make you laugh as he squeezes you happily.

“Thank you! I’m so happy! This is going in my memory banks forever!”

You grin, hugging him back. “Glad you like it, buddy.”

Ortho pulls back, still buzzing with energy. “Oh! I need to go show Big Brother! He’s gonna be so surprised!”

You chuckle. “Go for it.”

As Ortho zooms off, chocolates safely in his hands, you can’t help but feel lighter, happier.

Because, honestly? Seeing him that excited was the best part of all.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #twst idia #ortho shroud #platonic ortho #platonic ortho x reader #ortho x reader

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earlysunshines · 3 days ago

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strawberry-flavored kisses

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: it's valentines day so you and your amazing beautiful awesome lovely girlfriend bake cookies for your friends and loved ones (while also sharing sweet kisses in between)

warnings: noneeee pure fluff lolz ; established relationship ; they're so in love it PAINS me; anything else not mentioned ; not proofread

a/n: happy valentines day!! (same y/n and dani from sunshine girl but also you don't have to read it first LOL it doesn't rly matter k bye enjoy!)

working on valentines day–especially as a barista—is like willingly walking through the gates of hell. the sheer number of couples waltzing in with their fingers intertwined, muttering sweet nothings while ordering the cherry blossom latte special is enough to send any single person in a spiral.

unfortunately for your coworker soobin, today that barista is him.

he’s been stuck taking orders during the afternoon rush, forcing a polite smile each time a customer leans over to press kisses to their partners temple, hand, cheek, or even lips (which earns the most noticeable reaction from the guy). it happens more times than you can count on both hands, and each occurrence earns a subtle, annoyed scrunch of his nose.

you’re more than grateful that you work with your girlfriend, danielle, because if you didn’t—you’d probably be on the floor dying from heartache one hour in.

you and danielle share a knowing glance each time since you’re stuck together making all the drinks and serving the pastries in the display, both of you stifling laughter with each look. danielle is much sweeter than you are, so she tries to be subtle about her amusement. you, on the other hand, are not as merciful, watching soobin’s growing misery with shameless amusement.

soobin slides down the last receipt after the line of four couples is tended to, giving you a glare. “you guys are evil and i hate you both so much.” he groans before reaching over to grab a piece of strawberry tiramisu for another order.

“it’s not my fault love is in the air~” you tease as you tamp down grinded beans, nudging danielle with your elbow.

danielle grins, lingering against you. “yeah, soobin. maybe you should try being happy for them! look at how cute they all are.”

soobin gives you both a deadpan look before calling out an order, and once he’s done, he says through gritted teeth, “easy for you lovebirds to say.”

just as you’re about to respond, another couple walks through the door, giggling as they gasp in awe at the pastries laid out. soobin sighs, putting on his customer service demeanor, and bracing himself while you and danielle bite down your laughter.

“i feel bad for him, y/n.” danielle mutters as she pours steamed milk into a cup, making a beautiful heart design. “he looks like he’s in actual, physical pain…” she adds, looking over to see the couple in front of the register sharing a quick peck before scanning the menu again.

“i think he’s going to pass out, or air out the place.” you murmur, watching as his fingers claw at the counter.

danielle looks around, then leans closer, her breath warm against your ear. you shiver at the proximity, feeling her lips brush against you just barely as she says, “maybe we should order the cherry blossom latte and hold hands while doing it. you know, just to mess with him.”

“i like the way you think.” you chuckle, smiling down at the shot you’ve just pulled. “maybe a kiss too?”

“you just want an excuse to kiss me, don’t you?”

“i don’t need one. after we clock out i’m gonna kiss you soooo much. just wanted to let you know.” you shrug, moving back to the other side of the espresso machine to weigh out coffee grinds. “my valentine’s day special.”

danielle rolls her eyes but smiles at you, biting her lip at your bold remark.

—

all three of you clock out at the same time when the other three evening shift workers clock in. you all head to the back, and soobin dramatically leans against the wall with his heart shaped doughnut that he stole from the display. you and danielle giggle, earning a defeated look from your poor coworker.

danielle kisses your cheek in front of soobin before you two head out, earning another groan from him. even if he’s in lots of emotional pain, the tips from the dreadful shift were wonderful. you and danielle know how lovely the tips are on holidays, so you two made a plan prior to bake cookies for your friends, which is why you’re immediately on the way to the grocery store to spend your combined cash tips.

(you make sure to let soobin know that you’ll save some of your treats for him, telling him he can come by your place anytime he wants. it’s only fair considering he was on register duty most of the shift.

plus, it’s valentine’s day! it’s only fair to spread the love you two have for your loved ones.)

the grocery store is also filled with a handful of last-minute valentine’s day shoppers, but you and danielle still manage to fill your basket without much waiting or trouble. she sings along to can’t take my eyes off of you—which is playing louder than usual on the speakers—with a packet of chocolates in her hand as the microphone. you laugh, taking a video of her when she skips down the aisle singing happily.

by the time you get back to your house, the kitchen smells like butter and sugar, and the speakers are playing your carefully curated valentines playlist. can i call you rose? starts playing and you suddenly stop stirring the strawberries you’ve been boiling on low, gasping dramatically, “this is my song.”

danielle giggles at your antics and squeaks when you pull her away from the counter suddenly to serenade her lovingly.

“can i call you rose?” you sing, before twirling her around. “cause you’re sweeeeet like a flowerrrr in bloooom~”

“you’re so cheesy,” danielle giggles, twirling you around right after she says it. “you’re going to burn the jam!”

“soobin’s disease spread to you,” you joke.

“and what disease would that be?”

“being single.”

she rolls her eyes at your response before leaning in to kiss your nose. “i’m immune to that because of you, silly.”

not so long after you sway side to side playfully, you return to your baking duties. she mixes the wet ingredients while you finish up the jam, and you steal loving glances at her when she’s too focused to notice.

both of you are side by side again once you bring out the finished jam, placing it on the counter she’s now rolling the dough on. she hands you golfball-sized piece for you to shape, laughing at how carefully you work with it.

“you’re putting extra effort into these, huh?” danielle teases, watching as you carefully press your thumb into the dough.

“i have to. hyein will insult me like crazy if they’re ugly.”

she laughs, bumping her shoulder against yours. “true. minji and hanni will definitely do the same if they turn out deformed…”

you snicker, then continue to perfect your first cookie out of many.

you and danielle work silently as the music in the background hums. you glance at danielle, who’s sleeves are rolled up as she pours jam into the small, heart-shaped dent in the cookie. there’s flour on he cheek, and when you reach over to brush it off, she scrunches her nose at the ticklish feeling.

“you have some on your sweater too.” she teases, pointing at the flour on your clothes.

“yeah, yeah.”

the two of you fall into an easy rhythm, shaping the cookies together and pressing small hearts into the center for jam. you’re focused on the start of your seventh cookie when you catch danielle sneaking a spoonful of jam in the corner of your eye.

“that’s for the cookies!” you scold, nudging her playfully.

“i had to make sure it’s good!” she argues, licking jam off the corner of her lip.

“oh, so you don’t trust me? wow…” you huff.

“i just needed to make sure!”

“there’s only a limited amount of—” before you can finish your sentence, danielle suddenly leans in, using her fingers to tilt your chin down before kissing you softly. you get a taste of the jam, it’s almost as sweet as the person kissing you—literally. you hum, feeling your shoulders relax as her fingers sneak to the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

she pulls away and grins like she’s just gotten away with something. “there,” she murmurs against your lips. “good, right?”

your brain short-circuits for a moment before you blink at her, your face heating up. “you’re so—”

“amazing? yes, i know. now stop distracting me! we have to finish these cookies…”

“you’re the one who—” she cuts you off again, kissing you a little longer than last time before parting fully. you giggle at her antics, nudging her. “do you like the jam or did you just want to kiss me?” you question with feigned annoyance.

she hums thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger like a cartoon character. “all of the above.” she says while flashing a cheeky smile.

and just like that she gets back to work, leaving you flustered and giddy. you angle yourself weirdly to press a kiss to her cheek, earning a giggle before she tells you to finish up your cookie.

—

once you finish making a little over three dozen cookies, you and danielle are beat.

you both clean up a bit before washing your hands, set a timer, and then danielle flops onto the couch. you follow after, sitting next to her and leaning your head against hers. she shifts and puts her arm around you, pinching your cheek with two fingers.

“tired?” she asks.

“yes…” you respond. “but not too tired to kiss you…?” you add, turning your head to stare at her lips.

she leans closer, pecking your lips quickly before responding, “wow, cupid must’ve hit bullseye on your heart.”

“now look who’s so cheesy.” you giggle, nose brushing against hers.

“yes because i love you, my valentine.”

“i love you too.” you say before meeting her lips in a tender, loving kiss.

your playful exchange of kisses lasts a few minutes, and you plan to continue until the timer rings. what you didn’t take into consideration was the fact that your younger cousin—hyein—would be back home so soon.

and so, when you hear a dramatic groan along with the door closing, you two pull apart with flushed faces.

“oh my god, gross…” you hear from the entrance, turning around to see hyein with a half-disgusted and half-amused look on her face. “just because it’s valentines day doesn’t mean you get to be all lovey-dovey on my couch.”

“but we made cookies to share…” you respond defeatedly.

“were you guys being lovey-dovey while making them?” you open your mouth to reply, but pause, and hyein takes that opportunity to groan even louder. “gross…”

“oh shut up, i know you’re gonna devour like five of them in the same minute.”

“hey!”

danielle giggles at the banter, and then all of you turn your heads toward the oven when the timer rings.

“i promise the cookies are good. please take some as an apology?” danielle suggests, “there’s strawberry jam on them, and it’s really good.” she adds as she pinches your forearm, reminding you of the strawberry-flavored kisses from earlier. you blush.

hyein laughs, then happily sets her bag down before rushing over to the oven. you give danielle a look and she gives you the same one back before kissing you quick enough so hyein doesn’t notice.

“happy valentines day. i love you.” she says, tugging at your hand. “let’s go eat these cookies… we might need to make another batch if they’re too good.”

you laugh, following her to the kitchen island. “yeah, i was thinking that too. maybe being considerate wasn’t the best idea.” you joke, then kiss her forehead before muttering, “happy valentines day. i love you more.”

you hear hyein groan once more.

“i’ve seen enough couples at school today and i do not need to see another show of pda in the comfort of my own home.” hyein says loudly. “can you take the cookies out now?”

you scoff playfully before finding the oven mitts, smacking hyein on the head with them before you open up the oven to take out the first tray. the scent of the cookies fill the house with a sweet, irresistible aroma.

(but not as sweet or irresistible as your lovely valentine.

nothing can beat her at that.)

#kpop x reader #newjeans x reader #danielle marsh #danielle x reader #danielle marsh x reader #mo jihye #mo jihye x reader

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sweaterkittensahoy · 15 hours ago

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As a dog owner myself, this drives me fucking bonkers. Because, first and foremost, forcing retail workers or friends to put up with your dog when you have not previously agreed to do that is bullshit. It's rude. It's uncaring. And, especially in retail spaces, it makes shit harder for people with service dogs.

We recently went to a yarn store that had previously been welcoming to all dogs. We took Bean because we'd been able to before. There was a sign on the door saying "service animals only."

So, Sean and Bean went back to the car while I did my shopping.

Because we're not assholes, and our dog is not required to be the center of everyone's fucking universe.

I do NOT bring Bean to anyone's house without first gaining permission because that's fucking rude. No one's ever turned us down, but if they did, fine. It just puts a minor limit of how long we can stay since she'll need to be crated while we're out of the house, and we prefer she not be crated for more than about four hours if we can manage it (she has proven she can be crated up to eight hours if necessary, but we would rather not make her do that on the regular as it is not the regular routine).

She is a very dog-reactive dog. We keep this in mind in all places we bring her. She is less reactive if we pick her up, but if she starts barking before we can, we have to make her follow the rules of "You fucking know you're not supposed to be acting like this" before we can scoop her, and it's stressful to everyone. It's why she is NOT allowed in houses with other animals because she will bark at any other dogs and try to fight any other animal. So, we won't even ask if we can bring her if we know you have animals, and we will ask if you have animals and let you know she's an ass if we don't know.

I'm not writing this out as a "Haha I'm so much better at dog ownership than you idiots." I'm writing this out because I think Sean and I do a good job of wanting to be with our dog but also not being dicks to other people, and these are the ways we keep that balance. If you don't want my dog in your house, that's 100% fair. It's your house. She can hang out safe and warm in the crate while we enjoy your company.

If you come to my house, you know we have a dog, and if you don't want her to cuddle up on you, we will do our best to keep her from deciding you are something to sleep on. Yes, it's her house, and she's our pup, but you are also our guest, and it's our job to make sure you are comfortable. We're lucky she prefers to sleep with us when people are staying over, honestly. It takes a whole issue out of the equation.

Also, shout out to @infiniteeight8 who is great at refusing to let Bean do whatever she wants because then it lets us watch Bean go into 'cat mode' in order to get pets. Basically, Bean will do all her cute dog shit to try and get pets, and inf will go, "No. Not interested." and Sean and I will distract Bean away as well. But she will always try again, and Inf will refuse again and make it clear she's not into it, and finally Bean will just lay down next to her, and Inf will go, "Yes, this is good. Be a cat," and pet Bean, and then the rest of the time Inf is visiting, Bean will just go cat mode to get the attention she wants.

But the only reason it works is because Sean and I, as Bean's people, reinforce that Bean doesn't get to do whatever she wants just because it's her house. You are responsible for your dog, and part of that responsibility is not forcing your dog onto other people.

We gotta do something about the way dog owners behave. No other pet owner is just bringin the pet wherever the fuck they go all the time but for some reason with dog owners they think its fine if they bring their dog to the gym and taco bell and whatever. And you invite a dog owner to your house where youve got your own pets youve got your dog and your cats and whatever it is you have and this dog owner shows up at your door like "oh i brought my dog i hope thats okay hes so sweet youll love him" and it is always the most untrained poorly behaved agressive animal that has ever lived. And we all have to pretend like its acceptable behaviour well im sick of it

#dog ownership #dogs #if you won't teach your dog manners #you're not doing right by your dog #if you can't imagine spending an evening with friends without your dog #you need to unfuck yourself

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 2 days ago

Text

Easy to Love | G.W. 🩷

feat George Weasley x bsf!reader

SUMMARY: You get stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day. Thankfully, your best friend George is ready to give you the Valentine's you deserve.

CW: MDNI 18+, smut, hurt/comfort, cheating on shitty boyfriends, idiots to lovers, petty!George, dirty talk, oral, piv, dom!George, all the Valentine's fluff

AN: happy valentines day!!!! you all have my heart 🫶

masterlist

Your hurried footsteps echoed along the empty corridor, dampened by the screaming rain pouring from the thick blanket of clouds over the castle.

Fucking perfect, you thought, bitterly wiping tears and splattered rain from your cheeks. It was like the universe was taunting you.

Stood up by your boyfriend on Valentine's Day? Forced to walk back to Hogwarts in shame? Here, have some torrential downpour to really set the mood.

You still couldn't believe Jack stood you up. Left you looking like an idiot in the Three Broomsticks, alone and glowering into your fruity red drink, surrounded by pink streamers and heart balloons larger than your head. Completely humiliating.

Of all the shitty things he'd done to you over the last six months, this took the cake. And bizarrely, you felt like you deserved it for putting up with his bullshit for so long. You should have seen this coming from a mile away.

But you were too native, too stupid to see the red flags right under your nose. Well, that wasn't true. You saw them. You were just too scared to do anything about it.

Too scared to be alone. Too proud to admit you were wrong about him.

Merlin, George was going to be so fucking smug.

Your best friend, George Weasley, hated Jack. He hated Jack more than you'd ever seen him hate anyone. George had never had a problem with your past partners, albeit there was only two. But something about Jack brought out a side of George you’d never seen: vindictive, petty, mean.

Never directed towards you, of course, Jack and his friends bore the brunt of his wrath. It was enough that Jack steered clear of both George and his twin, who always matched his energy.

You knew George was just looking out for you, trying to protect you from, well, this. What you were feeling now. But you'd be damned if you gave him the satisfaction of being right.

Finally, the Fat Lady greeted you with a warm smile as you reached the top of the stairs. “Not out celebrating, lovey? Look at you, you're soaked!”

You sighed, looking down at your new dress, a babydoll in your favorite shade of pink, the fabric mottled with water and clinging to your skin. “Men suck*,*” you said.

The Fat Lady laughed. “They certainly do! What's the password, dear?”

You have it to her, and she swung open, a wadt of thumping music and the week of alcohol washed over you.

Shit. You'd completely forgotten about the Valentine's party tonight. While a drink sounded lovely, a drunken grind-fest was the last thing you wanted to participate in.

You pushed your way through the crowd, trying to make a beeline towards the girls dormitory. The crowd was thick, pushing and shoving, while music thumped loudly in your brain. Red hearts and cupids and streamers, were everywhere, a sheen of pink glitter starting to collect on your still-damp skin. Everywhere you looked, couples were all over each other, making out of dancing to the music, cuddled up on every available surface.

Tears burned behind your eyes again, and you tried pushing through with a little more force.

You popped out into a quieter area by the roaring fire, a circle of chairs occupied by the Quidditch team and a few others, which meant—

“Y/n?”

You looked up from your feet and locked eyes with George, who was hurriedly shifting a girl off his lap, ignoring her whine of protest while she grabbed at his white shirt.

The knife of hurt inexplicably twisted deeper in your gut, and you turned your back to him, pushing the other way through the crowd.

“Hey—wait!”

You made it to the stairs, but there was no outrunning those long legs—a lesson you'd learned countless times.

George snagged your wrist, turning you back towards him. “What happened?” The furrow between his brows deepened when he took in your tearful, soaked form. “Why are you wet? And where's the bilge-rat you call a boyfriend?”

You yanked your hand out of his hold. “Fuck if I know,” you snapped, trudging up the stairs, George on your heels.

“What do you mean? Didn't you have a date?” He asked, his tone getting angrier by the second.

You didn't respond, opening the door to your dorm and trying to slam it in George's face, but he caught it and pushed in behind you.

“Fuck, will you just tell me what happened? Are you okay?” He made an effort to soften his voice, catching your purse when you flung it at him.

“No, I'm not okay!” You cried, finally facing him, tears rolling down your cheeks. “Jack stood me up. He left me at the bar and—” emotion pinched your throat, cutting off your words.

You watched George cycle through the five stages of grief, frozen in the middle of the room. Then—

“Do you want me to find him?” He asked, voice a carefully measured calm.

“And do what?” You wiped at your cheeks, beyond frustrated. You couldn't decide if you wanted him to fuck off, or give you one of those big bears hugs he was so good at.

“Break his teeth in? Throw him in the lake? Set his hair on fire—”

“Stop it, George,” you muttered, sounding more defeated than angry.

He crossed the room to you, taking your trembling hands. “How can I fix it, love?” he asked, peering down at your pitiful, makeup smudged face.

You shook your head, avoiding his perceptive gaze. “Unless you have a time-turner to make me less of an idiot—”

“Hey.” George squeezed your hands, shaking you. “Don't talk about my girl that way. You did nothing wrong.”

You jerked your hands away, pushing past him and stalking over towards you vanity. “Please. You wanted me to leave him before we even got together. You made it abundantly clear how much you hated him.”

“Of course I did. He’s a prick—”

“So, clearly, you think I did something wrong by staying with him.” You angrily tugged your hair out of its style, wet strands tangled and getting frizzy, and started scrubbing off your makeup with a towelette. “Congratu-fucking-lations, you were right. You got what you wanted. Are you happy now?”

George looked like you'd struck him, hovering behind you in the mirror. You hated that he looked so handsome tonight in his white button down and dark wash jeans, his copper hair messy and flecked with glitter and heart-shaped confetti. It made it so much harder to be angry with him.

“You think this is what I wanted?” He asked. “The last thing I want is to see you hurting. Of course I'm not fucking happy that you're heartbroken. Even if it is over some limp-dick weasel.”

You scoffed, though you knew that was true, but it was easier to be angry right now. Easier to push him away than let him in.

George pressed on. “I'd like to hang him by the bollocks from the Whomping Willow for leaving you out in that storm, for all the shit he's done to you—”

“Just—go back to your party, George. I'm sure that doe-eyed girl is still waiting for you,” you hissed. It was a low blow, but you just wanted him gone so you could wallow in self-pity alone.

Suddenly, he was moving. His hands griped your waist, spinning your around and pressing you back into the vanity. His expression was severe. “Don't fucking do that,” he bit. “Don't act like I'm the bad guy when all I've wanted—” his voice caught in his throat, and he turned his head away, like he couldn't look at you.

His hands were burning through the thin fabric of your dress, his grip tight enough to ache, and you felt a long-suppressed heat kindle in your belly. George had manhandled you plenty of times: throwing you over his shoulder, dragging you by the hand through the halls, lifting you to retrieve a book from a high shelf. But this felt…different. Charged in a way you'd spent years trying to ignore for the sake of your friendship.

“What, George?” You asked, gripping the edge of the vanity so you didn't reach out to touch him.

He sighed. “When all I've wanted is to make you happy.” He looked at you again, his dark eyes filled with hurt and something warm, honeyed, that you refused to acknowledge.

Your anger crumbled into guilt. “I-I should have listened,” you croaked, tears rising once again. “I'm sorry, I—”

“No, no. None of that,” he shushed, bundling you into his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. “You have nothing to apologize for.��

“I just feel so…so stupid,” you whimpered, crying into the safety of his chest, enveloped in the spiced, slightly sweet smell of his cologne.

“You aren't stupid, love. Far from it,” he soothed, hand smoothing up and down your spine. “This is on him, not you. You don't deserve to be treated like this.” He rocked you gently while you cried, cooing softly in your ear and keeping you grounded with his touch, until finally, your sobs ebbed to sniffles, and you drew a full, shaky breath. “There you go,” he said. “Take another one—that’s it. I've got you.”

“Thanks, Georgie,” you sniffled into his shirt.

“No need to thank me. I'm sorry that your Valentine's was ruined,” he murmured into your hair.

“I'm sorry yours was ruined too,” you mumbled, your fists tightening in the soft fabric of his shirt, pulling him a fraction closer, unwilling to part just yet.

“Ruined?” He chuckled. “Got my Valentine right here.” He squeezed you a little tighter, the air wheezing for your lungs until you laughed.

“Since when am I your Valentine?” You asked, pulling back to look up at him, a traitorous stab of affection making your heart skip. Shit, you should not be feeling these things for your best friend. It was just your hurt feelings, the holiday—nothing more.

“Since second year when I gave you that heart-shaped box of chocolates,” he said, pretending to be offended that you didn't remember.

“The one that exploded pink powder all over my face?”

George grimaced. “I forgot it did that…sorry, by the way.”

You smiled, pinching his freckled cheek. “You're forgiven.”

He grinned back, glancing down at your wet dress. “C’mon, get out of this wet cupcake and meet me in my dorm, I have something for you.”

“Cupcake?” You rolled your eyes, finally stepping out of his arms, though his hand lingered on your waist until you were fully out of arms reach. “It's a dress!”

“If you say so,” he teased, perusing your legs as you walked away. “I prefer your bunny pajamas, but—”

You chucked your shoe at him. “Fuck off, I'll see you in a second.”

He held his hands up in surrender and slipped out the door, closing it softly behind him.

What on earth could have have for you? Probably his usual box of chocolates, you mused as you peeled off the soggy fabric. Hopefully the non-explosive variety.

You riffled through your trunk, searching for something oversized and comfortable. But to your dismay, nearly everything large enough was your boyfriends, and you absolutely refused to wear something of him.

But at the very bottom of your trunk, something familiar caught your eye. You pulled it out, unveiling an old Quidditch hoodie, the letters faded and fabric soft from countless washes. George had lent it to you before a particularly cold match, and Gryffindor won in a landslide. It became a good luck charm of sorts, one you wore to every game there after.

But when you started dating Jack, he'd gotten pissed at you for wearing it, and you'd hidden it at the bottom of your trunk, never quite ready to give it back to George.

It smelled of green grass and open sky, and you tugged it over your head, letting it's warmth envelop you. Then, you put on a pair of sleep shorts and fuzzy socks, and padded out of the room towards George's, knocking twice before letting yourself in.

Fred and George were standing by the window, arguing in hushed voices, and straightened abruptly when you walked in.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Fred said, crossing the room and pulling you into a back-breaking hug. He reeked of beer. “How are we?”

“Peachy,” you replied tightly, glancing at George over Fred’s shoulder. He was scratching the back of his head, looking sheepish.

“Naughty girl, lying to me.” Fred winked, and you swatted his shoulder. “But don't worry, love. The boys are on it!”

“The boys? Wait—Fred!” But he was already gone, the door swinging shut behind him. You glared at George, and he held his hands up.

“They were worried about you!” He said defensively. “We care about you, y’know…” his voice trailed off when his eyes landed on your hoodie. “You still have that?”

Heat creeped up your neck. “’Course I do.”

“I thought shit-for-brains made you—”

“He tried,” you replied, tension coiling around the two of you once again.

A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. “My good luck charm,” he chuckled, and your heart leapt into your throat.

“So, what do you have for me?” You asked, sitting on the edge of his bed like you always did. But something in his eyes flashed, making your lower belly heat.

What was going on with him?

He pushed himself from the wall and walked towards his trunk, just to the left of you. He rummaged around, withdrawing a pink gift bag with heart-covered tissue paper sticking out from the top.

“Oh, George…you didn't have to do this,” you said when he sat beside you.

“I wanted to.” He shrugged, setting the bag on your lap.

Heart pounding in your chest, you carefully removed the tissue paper, finding a pile of candy: chocolates and gummy lips and heart-shaped lollipops. There were also a few sachets of your favorite tea, pilfered from the kitchen, you imagined, and a copy of the book you'd been eyeballing your last trip to Hogsmeade with him and Fred.

Your heart was so full you feared it may burst. “Georgie, this is so sweet, thank you—”

“There's one more thing,” he said, gently taking the bag from you. He stuck his hand all the way to the bottom, and withdrew a small, pink-wrapped box with a ribbon tied around it.

The air was sucked from your lungs, ears ringing with shock as you gingerly took the box from him. He fidgeted beside you as you slowly unwrapped the paper, fingers trembling. The energy was taught around you, practically humming with tension.

A velvet box fell into your palm, the most gorgeous shade of burgundy with a delicate golden latch.

You almost didn't want to open it, terrified of what this meant, but so giddy you could sing. George, the poor guy, looked ready to burst out of his skin with impatience.

Carefully, you opened the lid. Inside was a gorgeous chain bracelet, the metal polished to perfection, with two charms resting against the velvet pillow. A tiny heart with your initial etched onto it, and a small fox, George's favorite mischievous, red-haired critter.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, tears pooling on your lower lashes. It was the most thoughtful gift you'd ever received. “George, I—”

“And you can get more charms, there's a shop in Hogsmeade with loads, books and birds and stars--”

You flung your arms around his neck, cutting off his nervous rambling. “I love it, Georgie, thank you,” you murmured into the crook of his neck.

He relaxed, his arms looping around your waist. “Of course,” he replied.

You pulled back, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand, inspecting the little fox. It crossed your mind that if Jack saw this, he'd be livid, probably go so far as to threaten George, break off the precious little fox, and your smile fell.

“Hey, what happened?” George asked, shifting to kneel in front of you as you curled inward. “You don't like the fox?”

“No, no—” you tried to suppress the tears forcing their way up. “I love the fox. I just—”

George's expression hardened. “Jack won't like it,” he said, an edge to his voice. “You're not going to stay with him, are you?”

You shook your head. “No, I'm not. But we're technically still together—”

“That's bullshit,” George snarled, pushing to his feet and stalking away from you. “He fucking forfeited his right when he left you alone like that. You could have gotten hurt. He just fucking abandoned you and is probably off with some other bird—”

A sob broke free from your chest, and he halted his tirade, shoulders sagging.

“Do you want him?” George asked, crouching in front of you again.

You shook your head. “No, I don’t,” you admitted.

George reached out to cradle your face, catching your tears with his thumbs. His eyes were so sweet, so sincere, it made your teeth ache. “Do you want me?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, but the words still felt like a punch through your chest.

Your mind was reeling. Of course, a part of you always wanted more with him, but… “I do, of course I do…but what if that ruins everything?” Your fingers curled into his shirt. “I don't want to lose you—”

“Never,” he said, shaking you so you met his eyes. “Never.”

“Relationships are different, though. What if we don't work like…that?”

His hands moved down to hold your neck, his touch gentle but insistent, your pulse thundering under his fingertips. “I’m still me, and you're still you. Are you going to look me in the eyes and tell me you haven't thought about it? That you haven't felt the pull?”

You don't reply, averting your eyes from his face.

“Not even when you're all alone, and Jack’s left you half-loved, tangled in your sheets…you don't think about me coming in there and taking care of you?”

Heat scorched your cheeks, your thighs clenching at the low purr of his voice, a pitch you hadn't heard before.

“Because I think about it all the time.”

You pussy throbbed and you gasped, shocked by the way your body was reacting to his words alone, your mind scrambling to keep up with this new reality you've stumbled into.

“Knowing I could treat you better, love you better—it keeps me up at night, baby. Imagining all the ways I could take care of you, make you happy, make you mine—”

Unable to stand it any longer, you yanked him forward and connected your mouth with his, cutting him off. He groaned, surging up to tackle you back onto his mattress, his lips hungry and rough against yours. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, his lips, his touch, his heat, burning you from the inside out.

No one has ever kissed you like that before, desperate, ravenous. With an eagerness that was palpable, his heart thundering against yours as he pressed impossibly closer to you.

He pried open your lips with his, his tongue plunging into your mouth with fervid strokes. One of his hands slid under your hoodie, caressing the bare skin of your hip and up your side, leaving tingles in the wake of his calloused palm. His other hand found the crook of your knee, lifting it up to hug his waist, opening your legs so he could press closer, harder…

“George!” You gasped when he rolled his hips against yours, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his jeans, your tiny shorts offering next to no barrier.

“Fuck, I've wanted to hear that for so long,” he panted, burying his face into your neck to kiss and lick at the sensitive skin. “Sound so pretty, baby.” He rolled his hips again, and your whole body arched closer to him, desperate for more as a weak whine spilled from your lips. The seam of his jeans caught your swelling clit just right, making your entire body hum with desire.

“Merlin’s fuck—what are you doing to me?” You keened, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, starving for the feel of his skin against yours.

“The bare minimum,” he teased, nipping at your earlobe. “You make it so easy to love you.” His hands squeezed at your flesh, his breath hot against your neck as he continued rocking your hips together. “So fucking sexy, so responsive. I knew you'd be perfect—” he grunted when you thrust your hips back up against him.

You finally managed to get his shirt off, pushing it over his shoulders and he tossed it onto the floor. The pale stretch of freckled skin on his chest made your mouth water, but you didn't get to admire him for long. He tugged your hoodie over your head, casting it across the room, and revealing the near see-through lacy red thing you'd selected for the evening and didn't bother changing out of.

A broken sound hissed through his teeth. Jealousy bloomed in his eyes, his jaw feathering with irritation.

You reached up to caress his cheek, drawing his eyes to your face. “He never got to see it,” you cooed, petting the hard line of his jaw and coaxing him to relax. “All yours now, yeah? No one else's.”

His eyes searched your face, anger melting into scalding desire. “Say it again,” he rasped.

“All yours,” you hummed, pecking his lips.

His hand spread across your collarbones, long fingers stretching nearly shoulder to shoulder, and he shoved you roughly back onto the bed. The next moment, his mouth was on your chest, hot and warm through the thin lace as he smeared open-mouthed kisses along your skin. His tongue lashed one peaked nipple, drawing a cry from your lips as he sucked the bud and fabric between his teeth.

Your hands flew into his hair, tugging and guiding his mouth where you wanted him, and he went willingly, eager for any and all contact, quick to repeat the tricks that made your breath hitch.

His hand slid down your stomach, beneath he waist band of your shorts, and he dragged his middle finger through your dripping slit, a high-pitched moaning making him smile against your chest.

“Merlin, you're soaked,�� he purred, kissing up your neck and capturing your lips in a messy, top-lip kiss. His finger swirled around your puffy clit, applying just enough pressure to have pleasure radiating through your body. “You get this wet for him, baby?” He whispered, dipping his fingertips into your entrance, once, twice, before sinking down to the knuckle. “Little cunt sucking me right in. She was ready for me, hm?”

“G-George,” his name was a fractured whimper on your tongue, your mind going fuzzy when he curled his finger up, hitting a spot that you'd never felt before.

“Oh, you poor thing,” George cooed, adding a second finger and stroking the same spot again, your whole body hitching up the bed at the intensity of it. But his body weight held you down, his mouth painting gentle kisses along your skin to try and soothe you. “He never touch you like this? Never found that spot—fuck, right there, baby? That's it?”

You bobbled your head like an idiot, grinding your hips back into his hand as he started fucking his fingers into you more deliberately, the lewd, gooey smack of your pussy filling the dorm.

“Good girl,” he praised, propping himself up to peer down at you, eyes blown wide with lust as he took in your trembling, sweat-kissed skin. “How did I get so fucking lucky?” He asked, leaning down to kiss you again, all softness and affection, so different than the relentless way he was dominating your cunt.

You pawed at his jeans, tugging at his belt. “Mmph, please—need you,” you whined against his mouth, and he groaned.

“Fuck, you're killing me, love,” he grated, his hips bucking into your hand. “You want my cock that bad?”

You nodded, still struggling with his belt.

He pushed off of you and undid his belt, removing his jeans and shoes in record time, his flushed cock slapping up against his stomach. He grabbed you by the ankle and tugged you to the edge of the bed.

“You've got a slutty little thong under here, don't you?” He asked, toying with the waistband of your shorts.

“Maybe,” you said, half-distracted by his cock jumping at the sound of your voice, the tip slick with precum.

He glanced down, following your gaze, and chuckled. “My eyes are up here, pretty girl,” he chastised with a light slap to your inner thigh. He pushed your shorts down your legs, followed by the red thong your wore underneath. He tossed the thong onto his bedside table, instead of the floor with the rest of the clothes.

You raised an eyebrow at him, about to make some teasing remark, when he dragged his cockhead through your messy slit, and all thoughts tumbled right out of your brain, dripping from between your legs.

“For later, yeah?” He said, smirking when your eyes rolled back when he tapped your clit with the head. “So next time I see that fucker, I can show him exactly what he lost.”

“George—” you started to chastise him for being cruel when he notched at your entrance, sinking halfway into your willing pussy, and you both cried out. The fullness, the stretch, was mind-melting. Better than anything you'd felt in your life.

George braced his hand beside your head, sagging forward as he hissed a curse under his breath. “Fucking shit, love,” he panted, his muscles locked up so tight he was practically vibrating. “M'done for if you keep squeezin’ me like that.”

You moaned, lifting your hips to take him a little deeper, needing more even though you felt like he was ripping you apart at the seams. “Please, Georgie,” you whimpered, clawing at his skin. “Want all of you.”

“I know, honey. I know. Just give me a second.” He leaned further down, peppering kisses across your cheeks and jaw. “Don't wanna hurt you, gotta relax f’me.”

You took a few breaths, trying to get your muscles to relax as his lips moved over your fevered skin. You felt him slide a bit deeper, the stretch not quite as intense.

“Good girl, that's it. Just a little further,” he praised, his hand gripping the flesh of your hip as he started rocking into you, slow, rolling thrusts that got incrementally longer each time, until his pelvis met yours and you were a moaning mess, writhing beneath him, desperate for more.

George straightened, his hand on the bed shifting to your shoulder, and he snapped his hips forward, forcing a cry from your lips as pleasure struck you like lightning. He set a rough pace, fucking you deep and hard, his grip on your body keeping you locked in place.

You were lost in it, helpless to the pitch and roll of his ocean, completely adrift in the pleasure he was pulling from your body. You tried to fuck back against him, but your body refused to cooperate, dumb and boneless and cockdrunk.

“So fucking pretty like this. Tell me how pretty you are, baby,” he said, his hand leaving your hip to rub tight circles over your clit.

“Mmph—fuck, so pretty,” you managed, voice throttled with lust and desperation.

“Yeah, you are.” He grinned. “My pretty girl takin’ this cock so well. He fuck you like this? Have you a drooling mess for him?”

You shook your head, nails biting into his thighs as your release prowled closer, coiling tight in your belly. “No, never,” you keened, when ratcheted up the pace sensing your looming orgasm.

“That's right, all mine. Who does this pussy belong to? Who has your heart?”

“You, you! Fuck, George, I’m—”

“Go on, love. Come for me, I'm right there with you. Come on.” His thrusts grew rougher and sloppier as his own release approached, and with a final, punishing snap of his hips, you both went flying over the edge and into white hot bliss.

You screamed and he caught the sound with a kiss, fucked you through it as your pussy clamped around him. Wringing every bit of pleasure from you both until he sagged forward, his head falling into the crook of your neck as you both gasped for breath.

He kissed along the damp column of your throat, making his way to your lips, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your trembling thighs. “Did so good,” he murmured between lazy pecks. “I'm proud of you.”

You giggled, feeling almost giddy to have George in your arms, kissing you and praising you so sweetly. “That was amazing,” you breathed, and he smiled, giving one last thrust before withdrawing and using magic to clean you both up.

“You were amazing,” he corrected. “Like I said, you're easy to love.”

Butterflies rioted in your stomach. “So are you.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead before handing you your hoodie and shorts. You both got semi-dressed and snuggled into his bed, his bare chest under your ear, heart thumping steadily.

You grabbed the gift bag and took out the bracelet. “Will you put it on me?”

“Of course,” he beamed, carefully taking the the jewelry and clasping it around your wrist, kissing the tender skin of your pulse before releasing you. “Looks perfect on you,” he said, looking down at your smiling face as you turned your wrist this way and that.

“I love it, Georgie. Thank you.” You snuggled closer into his side.

“Always.” He dropped a kiss on top of your head, then grabbed the gift back from you, pulling out a handful of candy and popping one of the lollipops into his mouth. “Not as sweet as your pussy, but…”

You rolled your eyes and placed a chocolate truffle on your tongue, letting the deliciousness fill your mouth.

Bang! There was a fumbling outside of the door and George quickly yanked the curtain shut, just before what sounded like several people came tumbling into the room.

“Get the fuck off of me, Weasley—” Jack.

“Absolutely not, you're going to apologize,” Fred replied, his voice a little too chipper for the current situation.

George was up in a blink, his chest littered with the marks you gave you him, and pushed through the curtain. “Well, well. Seems you aren't dead, or maimed…so what exactly is your excuse for standing up my girl on Valentine's Day?” George asked.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, I—your girl?” Jack hissed. “She's mine.”

George chuckled. “Love, would you like to come out here and set the record straight?”

“What?” Jack barked. “She's not here—”

You slipped out of bed and tried to right yourself before stepping out of the curtain and into the room. Fred and Lee had Jack by arms, dressed only in his boxers. Harry and Ron stood off to the side, watching everything unfold with mild amusement.

George was leaning against the bed frame, lollipop in his cheek, a triumphant smirk on his face.

“We're done, Jack,” you said, getting it over with. But strangely, you didn't feel any of the guilt from before. And you shouldn't. Jack was a prick, and didn't deserve your tears or empathy.

“I miss one date and you shack up with fucking Weasley?” Jack spit, and George's eyes darkened. “Fucking whore—”

Fred and Lee shook him roughly, yelling at him to watch his mouth, and you recoiled a bit. George seemed to stay surprisingly calm, until you saw him reach for his Beater bat beside the bed.

“George, wait—”

George jabbed the tip of the bat into Jack's sternum, and the boy went pale. “If I hear you running your fucking mouth about her again, I will smash your jaw to splinters. Clear?”

Your heart lost its rhythm. You'd never seen George like this, and you loved it. Loved being his.

Jack bobbed his head yes, trembling in Fred and Lee's hold.

Lee snickered. “Prick looks like he might piss himself.”

“Now get the fuck out,” George ordered.

“Wait, one more thing,” you said, and the boys all turned their attention to you. You sauntered up to Jack, and you saw a flicker of hope in his eyes.

Fucking idiot.

You thrust your knee up, nailing him right in the bollocks, and he howled so loud the other boys dropped him into a heap on the floor.

“Fuck you,” you spit, turning on your heel and stepping into George's open arms.

“That's my girl,” George cooed, taking the lollipop of his mouth to kiss you properly, the strawberry flavor sweet on his tongue. He waved at the others over your head as he deepened the kiss, and you heard them all file out, laughing and jeering as they dragged Jack behind them, the door swinging shut and locking.

“He deserved it,” you mumbled between kisses, giggling when George lifted you into the air, your legs wrapping around his waist.

“And now it's time you get what you deserve,” he smirked, laying you back down on the mattress and shifting down between your legs. “And I get my reward for absolutely crushing Valentine's Day.”

You burst out laughing, the sound shifting to moan as he licked a stripe through your slit. “You're right, best Valentine's Day ever.”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley smut #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #weasley twins #weasley twins fanfiction #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #weasley family #the weasleys #harry potter smut #george weasley fic #George Weasley oneshot #George Weasley fanfic

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pboogerswbb · 3 days ago

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SO IT GOES - chapter 9

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, alcohol, barely proofread Wordcount: 3.7K A/C: HEY BABIESS here's chapter 9 but SOME DISCLAIMERS - this fic does not follow the official irl Dallas Wings game schedule before someone comes at me. ALSO this is so short i am aware but next one will make up for it i promise <33 ily guys please send reactions again bc i miss those and they're my favourite ever <333 OK ILY

Before London

“Zari! Zari, come sit over here,” Trey’s voice yells as I enter the plane, walking behind Paige ready to head back to Dallas.

“Shit,” I mumble to myself, making the blonde in front of me chuckle.

“I gotchu,” she whispers, clearing her throat before her voice rises above the crowd’s. “I need some help with the gameday vlog! Sorry Trey!”

The man’s face falls, watching closely as Paige allows me to pass her to slide into the window seat.

“Thank you,” I say under my breath passing the blonde, the smell of her deodorant comforting me as it enters my nose. Paige smirks, sitting next to me and pressing her leg shamelessly against mine. I want to press back. But I need to remember our rules. Friends.

Walking into the bus for the airport many eyes had been fixated on me. Since my panic attack yesterday I had been feeling off, not quite right. Wearing the tight, uncomfortable clothes I had packed seemed like a nightmare, so Paige had lent me her hoodie for the flight home. For the first time my coworkers had seen me out of work clothes, which made me feel a little uneasy. Paige could tell, always smiling at me reassuringly when I began to feel unsure.

“You look good in that hoodie,” the blonde next to me grins as I buckle my seatbelt, eyes watching my each move. I give her a warning look. She only chuckles, raising her hands defensively. “Yooo, in like a friend way.”

“Okay,” I laugh softly, buckling the seatbelt. From the corner of my eye I notice the blonde’s eyes locked on me, a slight smile on me.

“Soo, do I get to drive you again?”

I laugh softly, feeling a familiar ease with the girl return. Since our talk yesterday after I freaked out both our moods had miraculously lifted.

“You want to drive me?” I ask amused.

Paige nods with that familiar grin I’d missed so much. I’m so enveloped in her presence I don’t even notice the plane beginning to take off.

“Bro I love driving you,” she admits.

“Really?” I ask. Almost embarrassingly needy.

Paige leans back in her grey Nike tech, resting her head on the seat. “Yeah Iz,” she hums. “Best part of my day.”

I look at her for a moment, meeting her eyes, feeling butterflies grow in my stomach. No, just friends Zari. I quickly look away, gazing out the window noticing we’re about to take off. Before I can even ask, the blonde is gripping my hand hard, sending jolts of sparks up my arm, thumb rubbing my skin soothingly.

“Shirley temple, thanks,” I say to the brunette bartender, her dark eyes quickly finding me in the middle of the other players lining up along the bar. A wide smile spreads on the girl’s face as she takes my order, beginning to make it in front of me.

“You sure that’s all you want?”

The bartender is flirting, I can tell. She’s got that spark in her eye, that sweet grin on her face, that tells me she wants me. It tempts me for a moment, the idea of taking her to my hotel room and working her all night.

“What are you drinking?” Izzie’s voice interrupts my thoughts, the girl completely forgotten the second she enters my mind. Her hand grabs my forearm and instinctively I wrap it around her lower back pulling her to the bar.

“A shirley, whatchu want?” I ask, unable to take my eyes off her. The bartender huffs, continuing to make my drink eyeing the both of us but I don’t even notice. Izara looks so unbelievably stunning, in a brown halter neck top and a leopard print skirt, makeup flawlessly done but hair left naturally wavy - rare for the girl. There was an ease in her demeanor the past few days since we’d become friends again. And truthfully, I felt the exact same. Our game against Liberty had been a clear loss but at least I got a few shots in. I wasn’t overthinking the ones I missed anymore.

“A dirty martini. But I can pay for it myself Paige.”

“Shut up,” I laugh, ordering the drink for her and letting the bartender work, looking around the club. Some of the Liberty players had asked us out, and after a game that wasn’t a huge flop, I had been quick to agree, inviting Izara and the rest of the media team out with all of us.

With an easy coolness I pay for the drinks, tipping really well as I always did which seemed to cheer up the pretty bartender a little.

“Thank you,” Izzie’s sweet voice whispers, sipping on her martini and stirring it. I wanna tell her she looks beautiful, especially in the dim lighting of the club, the purple hue painting her skin. But I’m not sure if it’s too much, so I stay quiet.

“Paigeee!” Stewie’s voice rises over the crowd as she passes Arike, Lala, Lou and others, greeting them with a wide smile.

“My Husky,” the woman smiles, hugging me with one arm. “I think you owe me a drink since we won.”

I laugh, rolling my eyes. “Bro with the way you were flopping the second I touched you I think you owe me one.”

We laugh together, when I realise Izzie is just standing there, staring at us two.

“Oh yeah, this is Zari,” I hum, my hand wrapping around the dark haired girl’s waist without much thought.

“My brother’s such a fan of you,” the girl grins, shaking hands with the woman. Stewie smiles and nods.

“He’s got good taste. Nice to meet you,” she chuckles, quickly ordering a beer before returning to the conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me you got a British girl Paige?”

Izara and I burst into laughter, my hand quickly falling from her waist. A touch was okay, but I shouldn’t linger. A look was okay, but gazing wasn’t. There was a fine line between friendship and more that I was learning to tread carefully. But the urge to slip was there, bubbling beneath the surface constantly. But anything was better than not having Izzie in my life. My best friend in Dallas.

“Bro, no we’re not together,” I laugh, watching as Izara covers her mouth while giggling. There’s a hint of the faintest blush on her cheeks, but it’s gone as fast as it appeared. “She’s our social media girl.”

“Oh shit, my bad,” Stewie laughs. Zari waves her off with ease, shrugging.

“Here you are!”

Trey interrupts the conversation, grabbing Izzie’s arm with a tight grip and pulling her closer. My hand falls off the girl, and I can’t help the flex of my jaw as I watch the way the man is intruding Izara’s personal space. I don’t even know why he had to come. I think he should’ve just stayed at the hotel. Why did he think anyone wanted him here? I sure didn’t.

“Oh hey,” Izzie chuckles as Trey throws his arm around her shoulder. It angers me. What angers me even more is that the dark haired girl doesn’t seem to mind. She remains still, sipping her martini, popping an olive into her mouth speaking to Stewie with ease. About what I couldn’t tell you. They almost look like a couple. I wanna kill him.

“So where’s Marta?” I ask Stewie, trying to refocus my attention.

“She’s at home with the kids, you wanna go sit down somewhere? It’s so loud here and I wanna catch up.”

I glance at Iz whose back is fully turned on me now, engaged in conversation with the brunette, brown eyed man. I think he’s 2 inches shorter than I am. That makes me happy.

“Yeah lemme get another drink first.”

After four martinis I can feel the way I’m losing control over my gaze. My eyes were stuck on Paige, sitting between Stewie and JJ, sipping on her drink and throwing her head back as she laughs. She looks stunning, in a slicked back bun, black denim shorts ripped on her thighs and an oversized t-shirt, silver chains dangling on her chest, diamond studs glimmering in the purple light of the club. My sight couldn’t move from the way Paige’s veiny hands are wrapped around the glass, her complexion tan from the Dallas sun of early summer.

“I could live here for sure… Like start a family here and shit,” Trey is speaking my ear off as always. If that man was good at something it was talking without needing a single reply. So I let him blabber. Not that I’m paying much attention to what he’s saying, mind far too wrapped on the blond sitting in the far corner.

“You want kids?”

This snaps me out of my tipsy thoughts, my head turning to the man. “Huh?”

“You ever want kids?”

Really not a conversation I want to have right now. Or ever with Trey. Why is he even talking to me about this?

“Uh, yeah, I do,” I murmur and down my martini, letting it burn my throat satisfyingly. I don’t wanna think about it, about the life I gave up when I left Jasper. How even if I had a horrible husband at least I’d probably be pregnant, I’d be a mom soon. It was the one thing I had always wanted, to be a mom. Now I felt lost, worried I might never find that person for me - to have children with. I couldn’t bear to imagine it.

“Yeah?” Trey grins, revealing a row of white teeth. “How many?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I chuckle awkwardly, putting my glass down. “Three, I guess.”

The man gasps, his hand grabbing my arm in excitement. “Me too! I want all boys. I could see you be a boy mom.”

I disagree so hard I can’t even fathom what’s coming out of his mouth. I always wanted a girl, more than anything. Trey clearly did not know me at all.

“Girl she’s so hot…”

I hear the two bartenders whispering to each other behind the bar. I snap my head towards them and notice both of the girls glancing towards, who else but Paige, and blushing.

“I know I’m straight but like… For her?” The red haired girl giggles. I roll my eyes, feeling annoyance rise to my chest, making it heave.

“Go ask for her number, she wants you for sure.”

“You think?”

“She was looking at your ass earlier.”

I feel hot in the face, angry, for whatever reason. I try to clear my throat to get their attention, to order another drink and partly to stop the conversation. But they don’t hear me.

“Fuck, okay, I’mma do it. Wish me luck.”

I watch as the red haired girl walks to the table, holding a tray of drinks I guess the group of girls ordered, obviously swaying her hips from left to right in an amplified way. Surely she was delusional, it would be stupid of Paige to be getting with random bartenders as famous as she had become.

It’s as if they move in slow motion, the girl leaning down with a bright smile placing the tray of drinks on the table. Paige’s blue eyes flash as she looks the bartender up and down and flashes that smug, flirty grin I knew much too well. The girl exchanges words with Paige, though I can’t hear over the thumping beat playing loudly. But from the looks on Stewie’s and JJ’s face I can tell it’s something flirty. The blonde digs her phone out of her pocket and allows the red haired girl to type what I assume to be her number in it.

“What can I get you?” The second bartender asks, as I lean against the bar, eyes sharp and watchful. I don’t hear her. I feel my face turn red, a strange frustration swelling up inside me. I wanted the girl to get away from Paige, my Paige.

“Zari? You tryna order?”

“Uh what?” Suddenly I snap out of my head as Trey taps me on the arm. The bartender is staring at me with expecting eyes.

“Would you like something to drink?” She asks, her voice overly sweet. I decided I didn’t like her either, because why had she egged the red girl on?

“Uh, just a vodka soda, please,” I mumble, digging for my wallet.

“I got it,” Paige’s familiar, low voice murmurs from behind me, sliding her card smoothly to the bartender. I feel her front press into my back as she reaches over, the heat of her body making my mind spin.

“Thought you already got your drink,” I huff, and it comes off much more rude than I intended.

I feel the blonde chuckle soundlessly, her warm breath teasing my ear. “Need a straw,” she says, grabbing one from the holder set up on the bar. I feel irrationally upset, even more so now that she had paid for my drink. The moment it’s handed to me I scoff a quiet thanks, pushing off the bar and walking away with urgent steps. Paige is persistent as always, following close behind me like a puppy.

“Yo you good Iz?” She asks. The alcohol was hitting me, making my brain stupid and inconsiderate, words spilling from my lips before I could think them through.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

Paige scoffs loud, still following at my heels as I hurry around the club aimlessly, trying to shake her off. I should know that was impossible with the blonde.

“What’s your problem?” Paige asks. I roll my eyes, but don’t answer. Frankly I don’t know what the answer is. I search my brain, looking for any valid reason or excuse for me to be mad. Because I couldn’t deal with the answer being that I have feelings for her. I just couldn’t.

“Nothing, just leave me be.”

Paige grabs my arm, stopping me and holding me still with ease and flipping me over to face her. My green eyes circle the walls of the club as we stand on the edge of the dancefloor, lights flashing purple, pink, blue, avoiding her gaze, her ocean eyes.

“Iz, what the hell is going on?”

I scoff again, shaking my head. “You’re being stupid. Flirting with random bartenders. You’re famous like actually famous. You need to be smarter Paige.” Good excuse. I almost believed it myself.

Paige furrows her brows, taken aback. “Bro, huh? Whatchu talkin about?”

“The girl you idiot!” I’m speaking with my hands now, flailing them everywhere, forcing the blonde to let go of me. “If she goes to the press it’s gonna be everywhere!”

“Who cares? I did nothin’ wrong! I’m single,” she argues back. She’s right. I was gonna lose this fight.

“Shouldn’t you focus on getting your game right first? Maybe that’s why you haven’t been doing as well, you’re unfocused.” It’s a low blow. I don’t even mean it. I knew how in her head Paige was about her games recently. I regret it the second it leaves my mouth. I should never drink again.

Paige goes silent, and raises her brows, kissing her lips with a bitter smile. “Wow Iz, fucking wow.” And she turns around and leaves me standing there alone.

“Hey, everyone’s start is hard. Don’t get in your head about it. You’ll find it.”

Stewie’s been staring at me staring at the floor and moping for the past ten minutes, sipping on my drink and biting my nails. Her words are so sweet that I don’t have the heart to tell her that my game is the absolute last thing on my mind. I’m still trying to comprehend the conversation between me and Izzie, the attitude she was giving me and wherever it was coming from, because I had no idea. I cross my legs, huffing and nodding as if to acknowledge Stewie’s words, though my head was filled with images of Izara’s stern face, the way she rolled her sharp eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, the way her voice sounded once she got angry. Everything about it had turned me on, insanely much. I’m really in it huh?

“Unless you’re Miles, now that girl’s been hooping,” JJ chuckles. Stewie nods with a smile, agreeing.

“Yeah she’s had a good start this season.”

JJ gets up, looking over at us two. “Anyone want another drink?”

I shake my head, still working on the fruity concoction I had ordered last. Once we’re alone, Stewie turns to me, studying my face.

“You good?”

I shrug, leaning back on my seat.

“Ohh, it’s a girl huh?”

I grin and nod. “Always is.”

Stewie nods and looks around, watching the way my eyes glared over Izzie who was sitting next to Trey, looking at everything but me.

“It’s the British girl huh?”

“She’s…” I murmur, taking a sip of my drink. “She keeps me on my toes I’mma say that much.”

“Uh oh,” the woman laughs, clearly expecting me to keep talking. It works, the drinks making it easier for me to open up.

“Nahh, I’m playing. We’re just friends. But now she acting crazy over how I’mma ruin my public image or some shit by getting a girl’s number,” I groan. “Like she was forreal upset.”

Stewie listens with a small grin, nodding and glancing between me and the girl I was staring, my chest aching to touch her the drunker I got.

“I see that basketball IQ doesn’t translate to real life huh?” She asks. I don’t understand what she means. Reading my confused expression Stewie continues.

“I don’t think she wants to be just friends. I think she’s jealous Paige,” Stewie nearly laughs at my ignorance. I’m about to get defensive, knowing this was a ridiculous thing to say. Why would Izzie, who wanted us to be friends, who kept rejecting me time after time, be jealous over me? But there’s no other reason, no other motive for her actions that makes sense. Izara is jealous over me.

I enter the women’s bathroom, trying to mull it over in my head. Had I had it wrong this entire time? Maybe Izzie had feelings for me, the same kind of feelings I had for her. She was just better at hiding it. The girl was always cool, calm and composed. Of course she was good at hiding it. It only makes sense. I walk to the sinks, watching my reflection in the mirror when Izzie opens a stall door, heels tapping on the marble of the floor as she walks to the sinks.

Her green eyes lock with mine in the mirror, her face still hard and stubborn. She’s not gonna talk to me, her gaze swiftly moving to the sink where she’s washing her hands diligently. Fine. If she won’t I will.

“Hey,” I say. Without looking at me she responds.

“Hello.”

I approach the girl, stepping closer to her. I needed to talk to her, I hated the coldness between us, even if it hadn’t lasted for longer than the past hour. Every minute we spent not together felt wasted to me.

“You thinking about heading back to the hotel soon?” I ask in hopes it would be enough to show effort for reconciliation. Instead she furrows her dark brows, turning to me.

“What you’re not gonna go home with that girl then?” She crosses her arms, green eyes even more vibrant in contrast to the black lining her waterlines. Not reminding me as much of the deep dark green of the forests back in Connecticut, but more so like the bright green of the first blades of grass pushing through the dead ground in the spring.

She continues before I can answer, face scrunched up in annoyance. “You know what, all those girls you bring home too, it’s so inconsiderate. It is so loud, it drives me insane! You should think of your neighbours once in a while, you know!”

Stewie was right. She’s jealous. Actually jealous of me with other girls. An involuntary grin begins to grow on my face, as I gaze down at the girl, loving the way she was a couple inches shorter even with heels. Thankfully the bathrooms are empty besides us two, because I’m too euphoric to even check.

“Honestly, it’s just being a bad neighbour and-” Izzie stops talking, noticing my expression, scoffing. “Why are you smiling?”

“You want me to stop?” I ask, my voice teasing.

“I- wh- pardon?”

My grin falls, expression turning serious, my voice turning low and genuine. “If you don’t want me with anyone else just say the word.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut for a moment as she takes my words in, cheeks beginning to redden as she comprehends them and what I mean.

“N-no it’s not that,” Iz murmurs, barely able to hold eye contact with me. “It’s just. So loud sometimes.”

I nod, stepping closer to her, our fronts nearly touching, electricity between us tingling, sending chills all over me.

“I’ll stop.”

“No Paige, you don’t need to. I don’t care about who you sleep with.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my gaze stuck on her face as her lips part to let out a shaky breath. She feels it just as much as I do.

Izara shakes her head slowly, never breaking eye contact.

“Are you sure?” I ask, tongue swiping over my lower lip.

We stare at each other for a while and I can tell the dark haired girl is thinking it over, considering every detail before admitting to something that might end in a mistake. Just as she opens her mouth to speak, the door to the bathroom opens, a group of women walking in. I quickly avert my gaze, Izzie doing the same as I take a step back and clear my throat, feeling the burn between my legs return in a painful, desperate way.

Izzie takes a deep breath, turning her back to me as she dries her hand wordlessly. I watch her, her shiny black hair and the way it swings in the air, her long neck and jaw, the sharp slope of her nose.

As the girl takes steps towards the exit, walking past me I grab her arm carefully, but sternly, pulling her close.

“I mean it Izzie. Just say the word and it’s done. They’re gone. Just a word, ma."

Iz breathes heavy, looking at my face with heavy lidded eyes before nodding. I let go of her, my fingertips burning where they had touched her skin. The girl exits the bathroom, leaving me on fire, a tingling in my lower abdomen making me dizzy.

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

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angstywaifu · 3 days ago

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Apology Accepted - Garrick Tavis

Summary: Garrick and you got off on the wrong foot from day one. But maybe things could have been different if you'd just given him a chance. And somehow all it takes is for you to be stood up on Valentines Day. A/N: Just a small Valentine's Day fic for you all to enjoy ❤️ Masterlist | Links

“You excited for tonight?” Bodhi asks as he takes his across from me in the dining hall for lunch.

“What’s tonight?” Imogen asks, joining our conversation as Quinn gets up to join her girlfriend who just walked in.

“Y/N here has scored herself a valentines date for tonight.” Bodhi announces before I can get a word in.

A loud scoff has us all turning out heads towards the noise, Garrick having turned his attention to us. “You have a date? How much did you pay them?” He mocks with that stupid smirk of his, and that damn dimple in his cheek fully noticeable.

I roll my eyes at him and turn my head away. “I didn’t pay them anything, doubt I can say the same for you though.” I snap back, Bodhi and Imogen snickering at my comment as Garrick scowls at me.

“So do you have a valentine's date or plans then Garrick?” Imogen asks him, a knowing smirk on her face.

“I don’t need a day to tell me to do something romantic.” He grumbles.

“So that's a fat no.” I add, knowing if I turn my head he will be glaring at me.

“I doubt you two have any plans.” He shoots at Imogen and Bodhi, ignoring my comment.

“I’m doing a girls night with Quinn and her girlfriend.” Imogen says happily.

“So you’re third wheeling?” Bodhi teases, earning a bread roll being thrown at his head.

“Says the one whose plans were to hang out with Y/N here till she got a date.”

“Hey, those are perfectly valid plans for two very single friends.” Bodhi exclaims.

“And how did those plans turn out for you?” Garrick teases, causing Bodhi to sulk and ignore Garrick.

The tavern in town is packed with people tonight. Probably because it’s the only place nearby to go out for a drink or a meal. Meaning a lot of cadets and other people have chosen to come here tonight. I scan the room again, looking out for the infantry cadet who has asked me out. But yet again I come up short, only finding other happy couples enjoying their evening. Maybe Garrick was right and I should have paid for them to come on the date. maybe then I wouldn’t have been stood up. I throw back my drink, skulling the last of it. I put the mug down, shoving it away from me as I turn to get up from my table as a familiar large figure sits on the edge of the seat next to me, blocking my exit from the booth.

“So you teased me all of today about not having plans and being single, just for you to get stood up?” He teases as he cocks an eyebrow at me.

I roll my eyes at him. “If you’re here to gloat then save it and move out of my way.”

He ignores my command to move, looking down at me with those damned hazel eyes. Fuck, I hated what those eyes did to me. Hated what he did to me.

“Move over.” He tells me as he forces himself closer to me, making me move further into the booth to accommodate him. “You’re lucky I’m hungry.”

“How does that make me lucky?” I ask him as he waves down one of the servers.

He ignores me as he orders food for both of us, not even stopping to ask what I want, but annoyingly he somehow nails exactly what I want. The same thing I always get when I come here.

“You’re lucky, because now it doesn’t look like you’ve been stood up.” He tells me as he shoves a drink towards me, one he must have ordered before sitting down. “And you get to enjoy my company.”

“There’s nothing about your company to enjoy.” I snarl, taking the drink he offers me as I take a deep drink from it.

“I beg to differ.” He says smugly as he smiles at me, that damn dimple poping again.

“We’ve known each other for two years now Tavis, I think I’d know by now if there was anything to enjoy about your company. Which there isn’t.”

His eyes travel over me, making me squirm under his gaze. I hated when he did that. It’s like he knew how I really felt. That my feelings towards him had changed over the time we’d known each other. But I was too stubborn to admit it to him, knowing he’d just tease me relentlessly.

“You’ve never really given me a chance love.” He tells me as if he’s stating the obvious.

Our conversation is briefly halted by our food arriving, Garrick pushing the plate of roast chicken, mash potatoes and gravy towards me as he turns his attention to his steak.

“Why would I? You made it painfully clear you didn’t like me from day one.” I tell him pointedly.

He shakes his head as he chews his food. “No, you just took something I said the wrong way. I never disliked you.”

What? No, there’s no way. I remember that day. The comment he had made.

“If that's true, why have you let it carry on for the last two years?” I ask, turning to face him in the booth.

He turns his head, giving me his full attention. “Because you were hell bent on the idea I didn’t like you. Trust me, I tried to make it clear I didn’t hate you. You didn’t want a bar of it. Now eat the food I ordered you before it goes cold.” Gesturing to my plate dismissively as he turns back to his own food.

I turn back to the food, but suddenly I’m not hungry. Garrick’s words playing over in my head. Had I really been the reason this had carried out the way it had for the last two years? No, I knew Garrick. If he had wanted to be friends or change the outcome of that day he would have. Right?

“Maybe he did and you were too stubborn to see things differently.” My dragon drawls in my head.

“I don’t need your input right now.” I snap back at them.

I feel the huff of annoyance through the bond. “Clearly you do. So either remain stubborn and continue as you are, or listen to the damn boy. Might do you some good too. With how wound up you’ve been over him, you need a release.”

I slam up my shields, not wanting to deal with them right now. But I don’t miss the laughter from them before I do. But they were right. I had just thought Garrick was trying to be annoying. Lure me into a false sense of friendship after the comment he’d made. But looking back, I definitely could have taken it the wrong way. I’d just jumped at it. And now after two years, and knowing Garrick a lot better than I did… It would have been clear he didn’t mean it seriously. Fuck.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, not expecting Garrick to hear it as I push a stray bit of chicken around my plate.

I know Garrick hears it clear as day as he turns his head towards me, feeling his eyes on me as he watches me. “What was that?” He asks, hearing the smirk in his voice already.

“I’m sorry.” I say a little louder this time.

Garrick turns in his seat, resting his arm along the back of the booth while the other pushes his plate away as he leans it on the edge of the table. “Sorry, I don’t think I understood what you sa-“

“I said I’m sorry!” I nearly yell at him as I drop my fork to my plate as he chuckles at me.

Instead of the smirk I expect to see, it’s a genuine smile. It’s something rare to see on Garrick. I’d only seen it a handful of times, mainly kept for moments to do with Bodhi or Xaden when he thinks no one is watching.

“Apology accepted. Now let’s get you another drink and make this a proper valentine’s date.” He says as he stands from the booth, taking both our mugs with him to the bar.

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