#nothing of all these things that happened make sense

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ ʜᴏᴛ ɢɪʀʟ ᴘʟᴀʏʟɪꜱᴛ: ᴍɪɴɢʏᴜ ♡

♡ Pairing: boyfriend!mingyu x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Genre: smut/angst/fluff

♡ Summary: A night out with your boyfriend takes an unexpected turn when his ex shows up at the same party with her heart set on getting him back. After catching her flirting with him you run off, deciding to continue your night without him but Mingyu's not letting you go so easily. He comes after you with full intentions of showing you that you're the only girl he wants and he'll do whatever it takes to prove it.

♡ Warnings: drinking, mingyu has a lil switch energy, dirty talk, some very wet oral sex (f receiving), mingyu loves your clit, tongue fucking, pussy drunk mingyu, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, spanking, scratching, manhandling, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex, pet names (baby, princess)

♡ A/N: Hello my darlings. This is the second entry or "track" in my Hot Girl Playlist series. This is the ✨masterlist✨ if you wanna check it out. As a chubby Mingyu biased babe I low-key had too much fun making this but, like, is that even possible? Anyways, I hope you have fun reading, my loves xoxoxo

“Bout 20 missed calls he faded. White boy wasted, Channing Tatum” - Megan thee Stallion

“Girl that man is blowing your phone up” your best friend smirks, squeezing in beside you to check herself out in the mirror. “What’d you lace your pussy with? Crack?” 

You almost snort laughing at her comment, “Shut the fuck up.”

“What?” she giggles, eyeing your phone as it vibrates on the edge of the sink, “It’s not my fault the boy’s addicted. You should answer him. You know how Min gets.”

Swiping a sultry nude gloss along the bow of your upper lip, you spare your phone a glance. It flashes a familiar name accompanied by a photo of you with the man in question. It’s a selfie from the last beach trip you took together. Your soft lips are pressed to his cheek and he’s making the cutest face, his nose scrunched up at the warmth your kiss sends rushing to his face. You vividly remember how happy the two of you were that day but right now happiness is the last thing that comes to mind when you think of him. 

Your phone stops ringing and for a moment there’s nothing. Only the muffled sound of music bleeding in from a party raging just beyond the door. And then another vibration. A text message.

Mingyu: Where are you? Did you leave? 

“He can get however he wants” you huff, shoving your phone into your purse, “He’ll get over it or he won’t. Either way.”

“Cold blooded” she teases, shaking her head, “Who knew you could be such a brat?”

A brat? You aren’t being a brat. Well, maybe a little but it’s not like you don’t have good reason to be. You know for a fact that she’d be livid if she were in your position. Five minutes. That’s how long you left Mingyu alone before his ex was all over him. You’ve never been ignorant to the possibility that he’d run into her again. They travel in the same social circles so it was bound to happen at some point. What you didn’t expect was for it to sting this much when it did. 

Your mind cruelly plays back the image of Mingyu’s ex cuddled up beside him on the couch, her fingertips at the ready to stroke his pecs through his shirt. To his credit, he did grab her by the wrist, saying something to her that you couldn’t quite make out. Whatever it was, it was clear from the look on her face that she didn’t like it, but it wasn’t until she noticed you approaching that she scurried back to where she came from.

He swore on his life that it was nothing. She’d come over flirting, he told her he had a girlfriend, and that was the end of it. But you couldn’t stop yourself from pressing him as to why she felt so comfortable coming over to begin with. Why was he just sitting there? Why didn’t he kick her clean across the room before she even managed to get that close?

Maybe that last one was a bit irrational but you were pissed. Making sense was the last thing on your mind. You walked off before he could answer, deciding that you weren’t gonna let this ruin your night out. If he wanted to stick around he had his own friends to hang with. You’d go off and do your own thing. You look way too good in this dress to let it go to waste. 

Mingyu started blowing your phone up almost immediately. Call after call with frantic texts sprinkled in between. You were positive that he must be searching every floor of this house to find you but you couldn’t be bothered to care. Not when you were busy downing shots and shaking ass on your bestie like she was your man. That distracted you from your emotions long enough but staring at your reflection in the mirror now you feel your gut twisting, a hint of sadness lingering behind your eyes. 

“I’m heading back out. You ready?” your best friend asks, heading for the door. 

You force a smile, pretending to dig through your purse for something. “I’ll be out in a sec. Meet me downstairs by the bar?”

“Fine but hurry up. I told those dudes we’d kick their asses in beer pong and I refuse to be proven wrong.”

“Because god forbid we ruin your beloved beer pong streak” you tease and she lovingly flips you off on her way out.

You keep that fake smile plastered on your face until you’re sure she’s gone and the second she is you deflate. You want so badly to keep up the facade of a girl unphased by anything but you’re phased. You’re phased so hard and nothing can change that. No amount of shots will make you forget how your heart sunk to the floor at the sight of them together.

You recall hearing that his ex was a model. She’d walked at New York Fashion Week once and made it into a few ads. By the looks of her you can believe it. It hurts to admit but the girl was gorgeous. What if, somewhere in the back of Mingyu’s mind, seeing her made him regret his decision? Your spiraling thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the bathroom door that forces you out of your own head. 

“Someone’s in here!” you shout but the door knob’s still turning. Thank god you aren’t on the toilet right now. “I said someone’s in here!”

“I heard you,” Mingyu says as he forces his way inside, slamming the door behind him.

He gives you no time to process, pinning you against the sink before you can react. Muscular arms cage you in on each side, as his dark eyes stare into yours, his gaze sharp enough to slice you to pieces.

“I’ve called you, like, 20 times. Why aren’t you answering?”

You sigh, in no mood to be interrogated, “I don’t know, Min. I haven’t really been checking my phone.”

Mingyu sucks his teeth, the veins in his arms flexing as his grip tightens around the edge of the sink. “That’s bullshit. I know you’ve been ignoring me.”

You can tell by the rosy tint of his cheeks that he’s been drinking more than he should. If you’re being honest, you have been too. The mature thing would be to wait until you’re both sober to have this conversation but that ship has sailed. 

“I haven’t been ignoring you, you’re just wasted and paranoid” you snap, seeing nothing wrong with a bit of gaslighting under the circumstances. 

“Wasted and paranoid?” he scoffs, “Projecting a little bit aren’t we?” 

“Oh, fuck you. Get off me.”

You place your hands on his chest with every intention to push him away but when he hangs his head, regret washing over his face, you can’t bring yourself to do it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry” he says through a curtain of silky dark hair, “I shouldn’t have said that. I just don’t want you to be mad at me.” 

“I don’t know how to not be mad, Min” you say, the sincerity in his voice tugging at your heartstrings, “I thought that part of your life was over.”

He rakes his fingers through his hair, meeting your eyes with a gaze that’s much softer now. “It is over. It has been for a long time. If I knew she was gonna be here we never would’ve come. That girl doesn’t mean anything to me. You’re the only one who does.”

When you turn your head away leaving a long span of silence where your words should be, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look at him. His thumb sweeps gently across your cheek and you melt like ice cream on a sunny day. You aren’t sure if it’s the alcohol or the ex thing but you’re hit with a sudden wave of emotion, tears welling up in your eyes.

“I just don’t want you to regret choosing me” you confess, your voice breaking as you fight back tears. 

Mingyu can never stand to see you cry and it breaks him to know that you might, especially over something like this. “How can I regret choosing you when you aren’t optional? It’s not her or you. It’s just you. I love you. You have to know that.” You sniffle, a tear racing over the curve of your cheek. Mingyu wipes it away, the pad of his thumb soothing the spot where it fell.

“Tell me you know that” he pleads, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “I love you. What do I have to do for you to believe me? You want me to get down on my knees?” 

“I—” you start to speak but he’s already dropping to his knees, looking up at you with the sweetest doe eyes. “Get up off the floor.”

Mingyu rests his chin against the softness of your thighs, delighting in their warmth. “No. Not until you believe me” he says, planting tender kisses where your thighs meet, “If my word’s not good enough maybe my actions can be.” 

You snake your fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head back but his lips are drawn to your body like magnets. They’re back on you in an instant, his tongue dragging across the surface of your skin as his lips find their way to the hem of your dress. You watch with bated breath as Mingyu grabs you by the hips, gathering the fabric of your dress between his fingers. He raises it little by little, each kiss inching him closer and closer to his final destination. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, your body tingling in all the places his lips meet. 

How demure of you to ask that question when you already know the answer. You know very well why he’s pushing this skin tight black dress up over your waist, his tongue teasing the silk trim of your panties. The emotions you’re feeling tonight are enough to give you whiplash. One minute you’re storming off, the next you’re on the verge of tears, and now your pussy’s wetter than a faucet. What’s a girl to do? 

Throwing one of your legs over his shoulder, Mingyu buries his face between your thighs, his nose grazing the spot where your stiff little clit has just begun to throb. He nuzzles against it, sending faint notes of pleasure rippling through you. 

He draws in a deep breath, salivating at your scent. “You always smell so fucking good, baby” he hums, stroking the growing wet spot in your panties. “Always so wet for me too.” 

Mingyu tucks your panties to the side and you release the lightest moan at the sensation of the cool air meeting your dripping core. At the same time your nipples tighten behind the fabric of your dress and the combination leaves you purring. Your boyfriend’s not faring any better. He was hard before he got down here, just the thought of tasting you had gotten him there, but seeing your pussy be so pretty and wet has his cock pulsing against the unforgiving material of his pants. 

If only you could feel how badly he wants you—how he craves you every day in more ways than one—maybe then you wouldn’t question his devotion. When you wouldn’t answer his calls he swore up and down that he wouldn’t just let you get away with it only to fold for you in under a minute. He’s quite literally on his knees for you but there’s nowhere else he’d rather be. 

“Aah, Min…” you whine when he plunges a finger into your warmth. 

Your purse tumbles to the ground, the contents spilling across the tile floor as you prop your elbows back up against the sink. A clumsy attempt at keeping your trembling body from giving out on you. It’s mind blowing how just one finger can feel this good. How such delicate strokes can make your walls clench so tightly. 

“You want more?” Mingyu asks, glancing up to you. He already has the next finger at the ready, ghosting your slit. You rock your hips towards that sickeningly handsome face of his and he sticks his tongue out, letting it glide over your clit. “Use your words, princess. I need you to say it. You want one more?” He introduces a third, stretching you open just enough to tease you with them. “Two more?” 

Your pussy’s aching, your walls fluttering wildly, doing everything to draw him in. You part your lips and the sexiest, neediest voice comes out. “Mmm, two more. Please, Min.”

Mingyu smiles, giving you exactly what you asked for. You were so polite with it. How could he ever deny you? It takes little effort on his part to guide the other two into you. Your pussy’s so eager that it sucks them right up, your juices saturating his fingers so that every movement makes a delicious squelching sound. It’d be a nice form of payback to toy with you for a while—make you beg for his attention after denying him of yours for the past hour—but that’d be torturing himself too. The taste of your clit lingers on his tongue and he knows that if he doesn’t have more he’ll go insane. 

His mouth crashes into you, his tongue hungrily lapping at your pussy like it’s the first thing he’s had all night. It may not be the first thing but it’s hands down the best. The satisfied groans he makes while circling your clit do more than enough to tell you so. It’s hard to keep yourself upright when he’s eating you out like this, his fingers drilling into you, stretching you so perfectly that your thigh’s quaking on his shoulder. You press your lips together, doing your best to keep quiet, but Mingyu will have none of that. He knows exactly where your sweet spot is and he hits it every time, destroying any chance you have at being quiet. 

“Don’t hold back, baby” he coos, pulling back to show you a face drenched in your juices, “I wanna hear all those pretty moans while you come on my face.” 

Slipping his fingers out of you, Mingyu grips your hips, lifting you onto the counter like it’s nothing. It stings when your plush ass hits the polished marble but there’s no time to process if there’s truly any pain. Mingyu’s hands are on your thighs, dragging you to the edge of the counter and spreading your legs wide. He dives back in, his tongue filling the space where his fingers once were. With one hand full of your soft belly, he uses the other to play with your clit, pressing down on the bud as his tongue rides the ridges of your walls.

You let your moans flow freely, all of the shyness leaving your body the moment his tongue enters it. You catch yourself feeling light headed and you know for sure this time that it isn’t the alcohol. Your hips stutter and Mingyu locks eyes with you, both of you knowing how dangerously close you are to your high. He moves faster—messier—slurping you down. You extend a shaky hand between your legs, lovingly petting his cheek as he pushes you to the brink. 

He locks his arms around your thighs, forcing you to stay in place while you squirt down his throat. Your body twists in his grip but it’s no match for his strength. You can’t run from this. He wants you to feel it and fuck do you feel it. Your vision goes blurry and you swear you go deaf for a minute. By the time you’re coming down you aren’t even sure which planet you’re on.

Mingyu takes his time standing up, getting his last few licks in as he rises. He’s so drunk off of your pussy that the room’s spinning a bit when he comes up. He clings to the counter for support, his lips glistening with your cum as he stands over you looking like he wants more. Sitting up, you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for a sloppy, breathless kiss that tastes entirely of you. 

“You said you love me, Min?” you whisper between his lips. You sneak a hand between the two of you, rolling your palm against his bulge. 

Mingyu nods, moaning as he leans into your touch, “Mmhmm, love you so much.”

Popping the button on his jeans open, you slide the zipper down, dipping a hand into his boxers to stroke his length. “Then fuck me like you do.”

Your words are like gasoline to a flame that’s been raging inside of him since he planted that first kiss on your thigh. You’ve barely even finished your sentence when he’s sliding you off the counter, the back of your dress bunched up in his hand as he bends you over the sink. 

“Ooh, someone’s excited” you giggle, squealing as he snatches your panties down hard enough to make them rip. “I hope you know you’re buying me new ones.” 

You poke your ass out and he gives it a harsh slap just to watch it jiggle. “Keep being this cute and I’ll buy you whatever you want.” 

“In that case, I did see some shoes I liked the other day and…aaah” 

Mingyu rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance and you’re dizzier than you've ever been. He’s not even in yet, just barely stretching you open, but you’re so sensitive from your last orgasm that a light breeze could make you shiver.

Mingyu’s eyes flit back and forth between two visions he wishes he could burn into his brain. First there’s the reflection of you in the mirror, so pretty your bottom lip wedged between your teeth, hips rocking as he presses into you. And then there’s that glorious space between your legs, so creamy and warm, trickling juices with every inch it’s fed. The whimper that escapes him when he bottoms out makes you clamp down on him, his cock twitching in your core, his arousal slicking your walls. 

Grabbing your ass cheeks, he spreads you open, stretching you wider. “You know who this cock belongs to. Don’t you, baby?” 

“I…I don’t know” you tease, “Is it mine?” 

Mingyu draws back a bit, thrusting into you so that your lush breasts bounce from the impact. “You tell me.” He pulls back again, his hips snapping into you even rougher. “Does it feel like it’s yours?”

“Aah, fuck, yes it’s mine” you moan, heels scraping against the tile as your back arches.

He rewards a good answer with an increase in pace, each stroke faster than the last. If Mingyu had to compare being inside you to any feeling in the world he wouldn’t be able to do it. His brain can’t grasp a single thing on this planet that can even come close to this. You could stimulate all his senses at one time, flood them with every pleasure known to man, and it’d still be nothing compared to you.

In the midst of your own bliss you catch glimpses of him behind you, fucking you like it’s all he was ever made for. He’s ready to unravel over you and the knowledge of what you’re doing to him only heightens what you feel. 

“Love you, Min” you whisper back at him, properly returning his affection for the first time tonight. You say it like you mean it. Your insecurities wilting away to leave nothing but pure admiration for the man who loves you. 

It hits Mingyu hard, the pressure inside of him reaching its peak. He clenches his teeth, nails scraping along the swollen flesh of your ass. He’s holding back so hard that it hurts, refusing to let himself reach his high before you do. 

Reaching behind you, you gently stroke the back of his hand, “Come for me, mmph, wanna feel you.” 

Your voice rings in his ears, making him lose any shred of sanity he had left. Hot ropes of cum spurt from the head of his cock, hitting you right where it needs to and you’re falling apart right along with him. Mingyu doesn’t let up on you, the juices spilling from your walls only making him want you more. No matter how messy—how sticky, how wet—he wants every bit of you until there’s nothing left. 

“Fuck, I think I’m dying” he gasps, his heart pounding as he peels himself away from you. He’s only halfway through fixing his pants when his balance gives out and he slumps to the floor. 

You turn around to find him sitting there, your own limbs barely keeping you up. “You’re not dying. You’re just dehydrated. Want some water?”

Lugging yourself over to him, you collapse onto his lap and he doesn’t hesitate to take you into his arms. You rest your head on his shoulder and he takes your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. 

“No thank you. I already have what I want” he smiles, kissing your inner wrist. 

You want to scold him—tell him that no, actually he does need some water—but you let it go. Choosing instead to enjoy the warmth of being in his arms as his kisses make their way from your wrist to your fingertips. Mingyu worships you, honestly and truly, and it’s about time you just let him. 

[bueckersstuff]

HER NEW OBSESSION

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Your new dorm is surprisingly cozy. It’s smaller than the one you shared with Paige, but it feels warmer, more lived-in. Your new roommate, Lena, is someone from your psych class—someone who had always been friendly, even before all this mess. It’s ironic, really. Last week, you were losing your mind trying to understand why Paige wanted nothing to do with you. Now? Now, you can’t even stand the sight of her. Maybe it’s anger, maybe it’s betrayal, or maybe—maybe you just don’t care anymore.

You’ve stopped overanalyzing your emotions, stopped letting them dig under your skin like splinters you can’t pull out. It’s easier this way.

The classroom is buzzing when you walk in. Lena sits beside you, nudging your arm. “You good?”

You nod, offering a small smile. “Yeah.”

But then, she walks in.

Paige.

It takes everything in you not to look, not to acknowledge her presence, not to flinch at the way the room still seems to shift when she’s in it. You keep your focus on Lena, on anything but Paige. Maybe it’s your imagination, but you swear you can feel Paige’s gaze on you, burning, searching—but you don’t give her the satisfaction of meeting it.

The professor clears his throat. “Alright, class. For this project, you’ll be working in pairs. Since this is an extensive assignment, I’ve taken the liberty of pairing you up beforehand.”

The group project was announced, and the professor immediately paired you with Paige, assuming you were still roommates. The class murmured in agreement. It was common knowledge before. But you didn’t hesitate.

“No.”

Your voice cuts through the room before you even realize you spoke. Silence blankets the class. All eyes are on you now, wide with shock, with disbelief. The weight of their stares presses against your skin, but you don’t waver. You sit up straighter, your voice unwavering when you continue.

“I don’t room with her anymore.” You glance at Lena, your expression softening. “I’d rather work with my actual roommate.”

A few hushed whispers ripple through the room. People exchange glances, some amused, some impressed. You catch snippets of murmured words—

Did she really just refuse Paige? Damn, that’s bold. I didn’t think anyone would have the guts to do that.

But none of it matters. Not the whispers, not the stares.

You don’t even want to look at her, but something—some stupid, masochistic instinct—forces your gaze toward her anyway.

And there it is.

The look on her face.

Like she was hoping—just for a second—that things weren’t completely ruined. That maybe, despite everything, you’d still be in her corner.

But you’re not.

You see it happen—the way that flicker of hope dies right in front of you. Her jaw tightens, her expression schooling into something unreadable, something controlled. But her eyes? They betray her. They hold something raw, something aching.

It doesn’t make sense. She’s the one who pushed you away. She’s the one who made this choice.

So why does she look like you just ripped her heart out?

The professor, sensing the tension, clears his throat awkwardly. “Alright, then. You’ll be paired with Lena. Paige, I’ll find you another partner.”

You don’t hesitate. You turn to Lena, smiling, forcing yourself to look happy, unaffected, free.

But even as Lena grins back at you, even as you pretend this moment means nothing—you can’t shake the way Paige is still looking at you.

Like she just lost something she didn’t know she wanted to keep.

The project continued, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you were truly living. Your new roommate, Lena, made things so easy—easy to talk to, easy to get along with, and easy to work with. The two of you were constantly together, studying in the library, grabbing coffee, and finishing your project late at night in your dorm. It was the kind of companionship you hadn’t realized you needed, the kind that reminded you that life wasn’t just about navigating through Paige Bueckers’ mess.

Late at night, as you settled in your bed, your phone buzzed. A message from an unknown number.

KK: Hey, it’s KK. Got your number from Paige. Hope that’s cool.

You barely had time to process before another message came through—a forwarded file. You clicked it, and suddenly, a series of images filled your screen.

The first photo was of Paige in her dorm, sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. A jacket covered her face, one you recognized instantly. It was hers, but you were the one who had been using it lately. The one you had left behind when you moved out.

The next photo showed her sitting at the kitchen counter, two mugs in front of her, staring blankly into nothing.

The last was a video. You hesitated before playing it, but curiosity got the best of you.

"Paige, seriously?" Jana’s voice rang out, frustration laced with exasperation.

"I just don’t see why it’s a big deal," Paige mumbled, her voice hoarse. She was pacing the dorm, rubbing a hand over her face.

"You want to switch rooms. Again." Jana deadpanned. "Paige. It’s been what? A week?"

Paige didn’t answer. Just ran a hand through her hair.

Jana sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "Look, I get it. I’m not, like, the best roommate replacement or whatever—"

"That’s not it." Paige cut in quickly. Too quickly.

Jana narrowed her eyes. "Then what? ‘Cause no offense, but you’ve been acting like a total weirdo since your last roommate left."

Paige let out a breath. "I just—" She stopped, pressing her lips together. "I don’t sleep well here."

Jana blinked. "Damn, I didn’t know I was that unbearable."

Paige shook her head, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. "You’re fine, Jana. It’s just—"

Silence.

Jana stared at her. Then, realization flickered in her expression. "You miss her."

Paige’s jaw tensed. "I just need a change of scenery. That’s all."

Jana scoffed. "Sure. And I just need a million dollars."

Paige groaned, rubbing her temples. "Can you just drop it?"

"Fine, fine," Jana raised her hands in surrender. "But for real, Paige? You fucked up."

The video ended there.

You stared at your phone, heart pounding, stomach twisting.

KK’s message followed right after.

Paige is acting like an idiot.

You locked your phone and tossed it onto your desk, exhaling sharply.

You weren’t going to reply.

Jana had just returned from practice when she found Paige exactly where she left her that morning—sprawled out on the couch, an arm draped over her face, still in the same hoodie and sweats from yesterday. The dorm was a mess, a few empty water bottles on the floor, a half-eaten granola bar on the counter, and a general air of chaos that Jana wasn’t used to.

She sighed, shutting the door behind her a little louder than necessary. “Alright, nah. I’m putting a stop to this.”

Paige didn’t even flinch.

Jana marched over and snatched the pillow from under Paige’s head, smacking her lightly with it. “Paige, you know I love you, right? But what the fuck is going on with you?”

Paige groaned, pushing the pillow away and sitting up, rubbing her face. “Jana, I swear to God—”

“No, you swear to God what?” Jana folded her arms, staring her down. “If you’re not drowning in your own sadness inside this dorm, you’re whoring around. And when you’re done, you come back here and I hear someone sobbing in the middle of the night. Do you have any idea how fucking creepy that is?”

Paige’s jaw tightened. “Mind your business.”

“Oh, I would love to, except my business is being your roommate, which means I’m forced to watch this self-destructive spiral firsthand.” Jana shot back. “You’ve been slacking at practice, Paige. Coach is bound to notice soon, and I swear I have no idea how the hell he hasn’t already.”

Paige ran a hand down her face. “I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.”

Silence. Paige refused to meet Jana’s gaze.

Jana exhaled sharply, pulling out her phone. “You leave me no choice.”

“What are you doing?” Paige asked, barely interested.

Jana put the phone to her ear. “Calling Azzi. Someone who actually gives a damn about you and will get through that thick-ass skull of yours.”

Paige finally looked up, but before she could protest, Jana turned her back and walked toward her room, waiting for the call to connect.

An hour later, Azzi was standing in the dorm, arms crossed as she took in the sight of Paige.

“Damn, P, you look like shit.”

Paige scoffed, shaking her head. “Thanks.”

Azzi sighed, walking over and sitting on the couch beside her. Jana was leaning against the counter, arms still folded, watching.

“Alright, talk to me,” Azzi said. “What’s going on?”

Paige stared at the floor. “Nothing.”

Azzi scoffed. “Try again.”

Paige remained quiet. Azzi nudged her knee. “Paige, come on. Jana said you’ve been… spiraling.”

“I’m not spiraling.”

Jana let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, okay. Tell that to the two mugs you leave out every morning like you’re waiting for someone. Or the jacket you sleep with like it’s a person. Or, I don’t know, the fact that you literally tried to swap rooms with me last night.”

Azzi’s brows furrowed. “Paige, talk to us.”

Paige sighed, finally looking up at her. “I just… I thought maybe if I sleep in that room, I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter.”

Azzi studied her for a moment before speaking again, softer this time. “Paige, are you regretting it?”

Paige swallowed hard. “I don’t know.”

Azzi tilted her head. “That’s not true. You do know.”

Paige clenched her jaw. “Yeah. I regret it. Okay? I fucking regret everything.”

Jana and Azzi shared a look, but neither said anything. Paige exhaled harshly, rubbing her temples.

“I pushed her away,” Paige admitted, her voice quieter now. “I thought… I don’t know. I thought it was for the best. But now she’s gone, and I feel like I can’t breathe. She won’t even look at me, and I don’t blame her.”

Azzi watched her for a long moment before nodding. “Then fix it.”

Paige let out a dry laugh. “How? She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Azzi leaned forward, leveling her with a look. “Then make her want to. Do something, Paige. Anything. Don’t just sit here and drown in your own misery.”

Paige ran a hand through her hair, looking away. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Azzi stood up, patting Paige’s knee before walking toward the door. “Follow your heart, P. That’s always a good place to start.”

With that, she left. Jana lingered for a moment before shaking her head. “She’s right, you know.”

Paige stayed silent.

Jana sighed. “Figure it out before it’s too late.” Then she walked off, leaving Paige alone with her thoughts.

For the first time in weeks, Paige realized how loud the silence was.

It started last Monday. At first, you thought you were imagining things. Maybe it was just a coincidence. But now? Now it’s beyond coincidence.

Paige Bueckers is everywhere.

At first, it was subtle. You’d glance up in class and find her staring—not the casual, spaced-out kind of staring, but the kind that burns. The kind that makes the back of your neck prickle. The second your eyes met, she looked away, but it happened too often to be a fluke. Then, in the library, as you and your roommate, Lena, buried yourselves in research for your project, Paige conveniently ended up at a table nearby. She wasn’t even pretending to study, just flipping through a textbook she clearly had no interest in. She was listening. Watching.

Then, today happened.

You and Lena were walking through campus, laughing over some dumb joke, when suddenly, Paige materialized in front of you, effectively cutting you off. You stumbled back a step, startled.

Paige barely glanced at you before her sharp, ice-blue eyes landed on Lena. “You don’t have class right now?” Her tone was flat, almost accusatory.

Lena, unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “No? Why?”

Paige tilted her head, expression unreadable. “Just wondering why you’re always up in her space.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

Paige ignored you, her eyes still locked onto Lena. The hostility in her gaze was clear. It didn’t make sense—she and Lena weren’t even acquaintances, just classmates. And yet, Paige was looking at her like she’d just stolen something from her.

Lena scoffed, crossing her arms. “I dunno, Paige. Maybe because we’re partners for a project?”

Paige let out a short, humorless chuckle, shaking her head like she didn’t believe a word of it. “Right.”

And then, just as suddenly as she appeared, she turned and walked away, leaving you both staring after her.

“What the actual fuck was that?” Lena muttered.

You had no answer. But one thing was clear—Paige wasn’t done.

The encounters kept coming, each one pushing the boundaries of coincidence.

In class, she always found a way to sit near you, even though she never used to care about seating arrangements. Her foot would nudge yours under the table, and when you moved away, she’d do it again, just to let you know she was there. When the professor asked a question, she answered louder than necessary, like she needed you to hear her voice.

In the dining hall, if you were with Lena, Paige would always pass by. Always. You’d see her walking one way, then five minutes later, she’d pass by again, this time slower, glancing at your table but never stopping.

You knew what she was doing, but you didn’t know why.

And you refused to acknowledge it.

Then came today, the final straw.

You and Lena were in the common study area, laptops open, deep in conversation about the project. You were actually enjoying yourself—things had been lighter, easier lately, now that Paige wasn’t in your space every second of the day.

But, of course, that didn’t last long.

The door opened, and in walked Paige.

She didn’t even pretend she was there for anything else. She walked straight up to your table, her presence a heavy weight in the room.

“Lena, you can go now.”

Lena blinked, then let out a laugh, looking at you as if asking, ‘Is she serious?’

You clenched your jaw. “She’s not going anywhere.”

Paige’s gaze snapped to yours, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. “We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t.” You forced yourself to stay composed. “Whatever you have to say, I don’t want to hear it.”

Paige exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair in frustration. She glanced at Lena again, and for the first time, it hit you—this wasn’t just her being weird. Is she jealous?

Of Lena?

Of all the things Paige had done, this was the most unexpected. And maybe the most infuriating.

“What the hell is your problem?” you snapped. “You made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me, and now you’re—what? Following me? Harassing my friends?”

Paige flinched like you’d hit her, but just as quickly, her expression hardened. “I never said I wanted nothing to do with you.”

You let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You didn’t have to.”

Paige’s jaw clenched. For a second, it looked like she wanted to say something, but then she just shook her head, muttered something under her breath, and walked out.

Lena whistled low. “Damn. That was intense.”

You didn’t respond. Your hands were still shaking.

Because for the first time, you saw it—Paige wasn’t just being annoying.

She was fighting for you.

But you had no idea why.

You were hunched over your desk, fingers tapping lazily against the keyboard as you worked on your project with your roommate. The soft hum of lo-fi music played in the background, a comfortable contrast to the quiet concentration filling the room. For once, things felt normal again. No unexpected drama, no lingering glances in class, no unwanted tension. Just you, your work, and your new friend.

But peace never lasted long when Paige Bueckers was involved.

The sharp knock at the door shattered the calm, making both you and your roommate jump slightly. You frowned. No one ever came over this late. Lena shot you a questioning look, but you ignored it as you got up to open the door.

And there she was.

Paige stood in the doorway, her breathing uneven like she had sprinted all the way here. Her eyes, those sharp blues that you had once admired, looked wild—desperate. You blinked, taking a step back out of sheer instinct.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Your voice was cold, detached, but your heart was hammering against your ribs.

Paige’s gaze flickered over your shoulder, where your roommate was still sitting, staring at the both of you in confusion. And then it clicked.

Her jaw clenched. “So this is what you’ve been up to?”

You scoffed. “Excuse me?”

“You and her.” Paige gestured sharply toward your roommate, her entire body tensing like she was ready for a fight. “This is why you were so quick to move on? Didn’t took you long, huh?”

You laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Are you serious right now?”

“Paige, I think you need to—” your roommate started, but Paige cut her off with a glare.

“Stay out of this,” she snapped, her voice laced with venom.

Your roommate raised her hands in surrender before shooting you a look, silently asking if you wanted her to leave. You gave a slight nod. With a sigh, she grabbed her laptop and muttered something about studying in the common room before slipping out the door.

The second it shut, Paige turned back to you, her chest rising and falling heavily. “So that’s it?” she demanded. “You just replaced me?”

Your blood boiled. “You made me leave.”

Paige flinched.

“You think I wanted to move out?” you continued, stepping closer, anger seeping through your words. “You think I wanted to lose my home—my comfort—because you decided I wasn’t good enough to be around anymore?”

“That’s not—” Paige ran a frustrated hand through her hair. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me, Paige,” you shot back. “Tell me what happened. Why did you push me away? Why did you act like I didn’t exist, like I meant nothing, and now, suddenly, you’re here, acting like you have a say in my life?”

Paige exhaled sharply, like she was trying to hold herself together. “Because I was scared, alright?” she admitted. “I was fucking scared.”

You frowned. “Scared of what?”

“Of you.” Her voice cracked, raw and unfiltered. “Of how much I fucking need you.”

Silence.

Your chest ached, but you refused to let yourself soften. “No,” you said. “You don’t get to do this.”

Paige’s face twisted in frustration. “Do what?”

“This.” You gestured between you both. “You don’t get to throw me away, regret it, and then come back like nothing happened. Like I owe you another chance.”

Paige stepped closer. Too close. You could smell the faint traces of her cologne, could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. “I never wanted to throw you away.”

“Then why did you?” Your voice was barely above a whisper.

Paige swallowed, her gaze searching yours. “Because I thought it would hurt less.”

Your breath hitched. You wanted to believe her. You wanted to believe every damn word. But the wounds she left were still fresh, still aching.

Paige lifted a hand, hesitantly brushing her fingers against your arm. Your body tensed, and for a split second, you considered leaning in. Considered falling back into the warmth that once felt like home.

But then reality hit you like a train.

“Did you love me?” you asked suddenly, your voice quiet but firm. “Or was it just your fleeting desire?”

Paige’s eyes widened, her hand dropping like she had been burned. “What?”

“You heard me.” You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “Because right now, it feels like you only wanted me when it was convenient. When you needed me. When you wanted something to hold at night.”

Paige shook her head quickly. “No. No, that’s not—”

“Then why did you push me away?” you cut her off. “Why did you make me feel like I was nothing, Paige?”

Paige’s lips parted, but no words came out. For the first time, she had nothing to say.

You nodded, feeling your chest tighten. “That’s what I thought.”

You turned away, gripping the edge of your desk to keep your hands from shaking. “Go home, Paige.”

She hesitated, lingering in the doorway like she wanted to say more. But in the end, she didn’t.

The door clicked shut behind her, and the second she was gone, you finally allowed yourself to breathe.

And that was the last time you saw Paige Bueckers, at least face to face.

It had been weeks since that confrontation in your dorm, and in that time, she had become a ghost. She stopped acknowledging you in the hallways, in class. Stopped being anywhere you were, as if you had never existed to her at all.

You were furious, humiliated, and worst of all—hurt. Because you haven't been the one to walk away first. You haven't been the one to set everything on fire and leave without looking back. She had.

And you couldn’t even get an explanation.

You left UConn the second you could.

Graduated, packed up your life, and never looked back.

There were moments, of course, where you wanted to—when a game would come on TV and you'd see her on the screen, or when you'd overhear someone talking about women’s basketball and her name would come up like a legend in the making.

But you trained yourself to tune it out. Paige Bueckers didn’t exist in your world anymore.

You built a new life.

Moved to the city, got a stable job in a company downtown, found a beautiful apartment just perfect for you to live in, a loving best friend who makes your life a little bit happier. She knew about Paige, about the past, about everything that had nearly ruined you.

“You don’t miss her?” she had asked once.

You hesitated, then shook your head. “No. I miss who I thought she was.”

And it was true.

Paige had been your friend, your roommate, your almost-something before she threw it all away. If you missed anything, it was the version of her that didn’t exist anymore—the one who used to wait up for you in your dorm, who used to shove an extra granola bar into your bag before class, who used to look at you like you were the only person in the room.

But that Paige was gone.

Or so you thought.

Because on a random Friday night, in a bar you had never seen her in before, you looked up—and there she was.

Years older. Sharper. The weight of her career settling into her features like something heavy, something unshakable.

And she was looking directly at you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

The bar was dimly lit, music thrumming in the background, a blur of conversations and clinking glasses filling the space between you. And yet, all Paige could focus on was you. Sitting at the far end of the room, elbow resting on the bar counter, a half-empty glass in front of you.

You looked different. Not just older, not just sharper, but—settled. Like life had been kinder to you than it had been to her.

And for a split second, something flashed in your eyes. Recognition? Discomfort? She didn’t know. But she knew one thing for sure—you weren’t happy to see her.

You turned back to your drink, pretending she wasn’t there. Pretending she hadn’t just unraveled years of carefully built distance with one look.

But ignoring you had never been easy for Paige.

Minutes passed, maybe more, and just when she thought she should leave, she found herself walking toward you instead. The pull was still there, even after all this time.

She stopped beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of your presence but not enough to invade your space.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your posture stiffened, but you didn’t turn to her right away. Instead, you took a slow sip of your drink, as if gathering your thoughts. “Yeah, well. Life’s full of surprises.”

She let out a breath that could’ve been a laugh, but there was no humor in it.

Paige didn’t know what she expected—maybe that you’d brush her off, maybe that you’d demand answers she still wasn’t sure how to give. But as she stood there, watching you, she realized she needed to ask. Needed to know.

“Are you happy?”

She saw the way your fingers tightened around your glass, the way your shoulders locked like you were bracing for impact. You turned to her then, eyes sharp, guarded.

“Why do you care?”

Paige swallowed. She didn’t have an answer you’d want to hear. Didn’t have the right words to explain why she had walked away back then. Why she had forced you out of her life when all she had ever wanted was to pull you closer.

But she had to know. Had to believe that what she did had been worth something. That the sacrifice she made—the one that shattered her, the one you never even knew about—had meant something in the end.

She looked away, swirling the remnants of her drink in her glass. And finally, almost too quiet to be heard—

“Because I had to believe it was worth it.”

Your expression flickered, something unreadable flashing in your eyes, but Paige saw the moment your walls went up. The moment you shut her out, just as she had once done to you.

You pushed back from the bar, grabbing your coat.

“You don’t get to ask me that, Paige.”

Her stomach twisted. She wanted to stop you, wanted to explain—but she didn’t. She just sat there, watching you walk out of the bar, out into the cold night air, leaving her behind.

Just like she had left you.

The cold night air did little to settle the storm in Paige’s chest.

She watched you leave, her fingers twitching against the condensation of her glass, an old instinct screaming at her to run after you. To stop you. But she stayed rooted to the barstool, letting the moment slip through her fingers like so many others before it.

Maybe she deserved that.

No, she definitely deserved that.

But that didn’t mean she was done. Not this time.

A week passed. Then two.

Paige told herself she wouldn’t look for you, wouldn’t make this harder than it needed to be. But then she saw you again—by chance or by fate, she wasn’t sure.

The coffee shop was tucked in a quiet corner of the city, one she rarely went to, but there you were.

Sitting by the window, scrolling through your phone, completely unaware that her world had just tilted on its axis again.

Paige took a slow breath, adjusting the cap on her head, as if that would somehow make her presence less jarring. She told herself to leave, that she had no reason to be here. But her feet moved before she could stop them.

And then she was standing in front of you.

You looked up, blinking in surprise before your expression hardened.

“Seriously?”

She had the audacity to smile. Just a little. “Hey.”

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone down. “What are you doing here?”

She hesitated, because she could lie—say she was just grabbing coffee, pretend this was another coincidence. But she was done lying, done pretending.

So she pulled out the chair across from you and sat down, ignoring the way your brows shot up in disbelief.

“I wanted to see you.”

Your jaw tightened. “Paige—”

“Look, I know you don’t owe me anything. I know I left and that I never gave you a real explanation. And I know that seeing me again is probably the last thing you want.”

You stayed silent, watching her carefully. Paige took that as a sign to keep going.

“But I just—I just need to talk to you. Not about the past. Just—just let me sit here for a minute.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You discarded me, Paige. And now you just want to sit and talk?”

The words stung, sharp and direct, but she didn’t flinch. She nodded instead, fingers clenching against her thigh. “Yeah. I do.”

You studied her for a long moment, something flickering in your expression.

Then, with an exasperated sigh, you leaned back. “Fine. But I’m not making this easy for you.”

Paige let out a quiet breath. “Wouldn’t expect anything less.”

The conversation started awkward, filled with stilted small talk and long pauses. But Paige didn’t mind. She wasn’t here for easy. She was here for you.

And if she had to work for it, she would.

She’d spent years running from what she wanted.

Now, she was ready to chase it.

Paige had always been good at winning.

On the court, she knew how to read plays, how to adjust, how to push through obstacles until she got what she wanted.

But you weren’t a game. You weren’t something she could just strategize her way back into.

And that terrified her more than anything.

A week after your reluctant coffee shop conversation, Paige saw you again.

This time, it wasn’t by accident.

She knew where to find you—your favorite bookstore, a quiet place tucked away from the chaos of the city.

She told herself she wouldn’t approach you, that she’d just catch a glimpse, maybe remind herself that you were still here, still real. But when she spotted you in one of the aisles, she couldn’t stop herself.

“You really like this place, huh?”

You turned, startled at first, then visibly annoyed when you realized who it was.

“Paige.”

She raised her hands in mock surrender. “Not here to bother you. Just… thought I’d check out some books.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when do you read?”

Paige smirked. “Since now.”

You exhaled, clearly debating whether to engage or ignore her. Eventually, you turned back to the shelf, tracing the spines with absent fingers.

Paige stayed a few feet away, not pushing, not forcing conversation. Just existing in your space, letting you get used to her being there.

And maybe—just maybe—hoping you’d let her stay.

Over the next few weeks, she found ways to slip into your life, never demanding too much, never making it obvious.

A casual nod when she saw you at a café. A brief conversation in passing. A small joke here, a quiet comment there.

She didn’t expect you to trust her again overnight. She wasn’t that naive.

But she wanted you to see she wasn’t going anywhere this time.

She wanted you to know she was serious.

Paige exhaled, gripping the strap of her gym bag as she stood outside the arena.

She had invited you to the game tonight.

You hadn’t said yes. But you hadn’t said no either.

And when she looked up, scanning the crowd filtering through the entrance, she saw you.

Her heart slammed against her ribs.

You weren’t alone—your friends flanked you, keeping the atmosphere light, but Paige could see the tension in your posture. Like you weren’t sure why you had come.

But you were here.

That was enough.

For now.

Paige played like she had something to prove.

Not to the crowd. Not to the coaches.

To you.

Every shot, every pass, every moment on the court was a silent message—Look at me. See what I can be.

And when the final buzzer sounded, when the game was won and the cheers rang loud, her eyes searched for you again.

You were still there.

Watching.

After the game, she found you by the exit, waiting.

She approached carefully, wiping the sweat from her forehead, heart pounding louder than it had on the court.

“You stayed.”

You shrugged, arms crossed. “You played well.”

Paige took a slow breath. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence stretched between you, the years of distance still palpable.

Then, softly—“Why now, Paige?”

Her throat tightened.

Because I already gave you your normal life. Now it’s my turn to have a life with you.

But she didn’t say that. Not yet.

Instead, she let a small smile tug at her lips. “Because I’m done running.”

And for the first time, you didn’t look away.

Paige had never been good at waiting.

But she had to be patient now.

The next morning, she found herself lingering by her phone, resisting the urge to text you. It had taken everything in her to tell you she was done running, but words meant nothing without action. And she wasn’t about to mess this up again by moving too fast.

Instead, she let things happen naturally.

Days passed, and Paige made sure to be present without pushing too hard. Little moments—liking your posts when she never used to, casually showing up at places she knew you’d be. Each interaction was subtle, an unspoken invitation.

She had spent so many years keeping her distance that she had to relearn how to be in your orbit.

And she knew you noticed.

One evening, she saw her chance.

A mutual friend’s birthday dinner. You were there, seated with a few others, and Paige made a deliberate choice to sit across from you.

Not next to you. That would be too much.

Just close enough that you couldn’t ignore her.

She watched the way you stiffened slightly when she greeted you, then relaxed into neutrality. That was progress.

The night went on, and as conversations swirled around the table, Paige kept her focus split—engaging with the others but never letting you fade into the background.

Then came the moment that caught her off guard.

Someone cracked a joke about past relationships, and the table erupted into laughter. But Paige felt her pulse spike when your gaze flickered—just briefly—to her.

It was gone in an instant, but she caught it.

You weren’t unaffected by her presence.

And she held onto that.

After dinner, she found you outside, waiting for your ride.

Paige hesitated, then stepped closer, standing beside you in silence. The cool air was thick with unspoken things.

Finally, she murmured, “I didn’t expect to see you tonight.”

You gave a small shrug. “I almost didn’t come.”

Paige’s chest tightened. “But you did.”

A beat of silence. Then—

“Why are you suddenly around again, Paige?”

She exhaled slowly, choosing her words carefully. “I told you. I’m done running.”

You looked away, as if weighing her words. Paige could tell you weren’t convinced yet. And that was fair. She had spent years pushing you away.

But she had time now.

She was going to prove it.

You scoffed, exhaling sharply. “That doesn’t mean anything, Paige. Not after everything.”

Her throat tightened. “Then tell me how to make it mean something.”

Your arms crossed over your chest, frustration bubbling over. “You don’t get it, do you? You don’t just get to decide when you want to be here. You disappeared, Paige. You left me with nothing. No explanation, no closure—just gone.”

She flinched. She deserved that. Every word.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “I thought—”

“You thought what?” you snapped. “That I couldn’t handle your world? That I wasn’t enough?”

She ran a hand down her face, the weight of her silence pressing between you. Then, finally—

“Because you said you wanted a normal life.”

Your breath hitched.

Paige looked at you then, really looked at you, and her expression was raw. “You said you wanted normal, and I knew I could never give that to you. So I let you have it.”

Silence stretched between you, thick and heavy.

Then, your laugh came—sharp, disbelieving. “You let me have it? Are you kidding me? You never even gave me a choice, Paige.”

Her jaw clenched, guilt washing over her. “I know. I was scared. I convinced myself I was doing what was best for you. But it wasn’t my decision to make.”

You shook your head, years of frustration unraveling in real time. “Damn right, it wasn’t.”

Paige exhaled shakily. “I know I don’t deserve a second chance. But if you’ll let me, I want to prove that I’m not going anywhere this time.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Because for the first time, the truth was laid bare between you.

And now, the choice was finally yours.

Paige didn’t wait for your answer that night.

Because this time, she wasn’t just asking.

She was proving.

The shift was subtle at first. But undeniable.

Paige started showing up. Not just at events or places where she could conveniently cross paths with you, but in ways that made it impossible to ignore her presence.

A text—simple, direct: I know I don’t deserve it, but can we talk?

A coffee order at your desk one morning—your exact order, no note, just an unspoken understanding.

A glance from across the room that held more weight than a thousand words.

She was making it clear—she was done running.

But were you ready to stop running too?

It all came to a head one night when you found yourself at a restaurant with mutual friends. You weren’t expecting her to be there.

But she was.

And she wasn’t alone.

Paige sat with her teammates, but her attention never wavered from you. Even as conversations swirled around the table, she only seemed aware of one thing—where you were, who you were talking to, how close someone else was standing.

Then, as if drawn by an invisible pull, she excused herself. And when you stepped outside for air, she followed.

“You still don’t believe me, do you?” she asked, voice steady but soft.

You sighed, leaning against the railing. “Paige, I don’t know what to believe.”

She hesitated, then took a step closer. “Then let me say it again. I was wrong. I was wrong to decide for you. I was wrong to leave. And I was wrong to think I could be happy without you.”

Your chest tightened. “You don’t get to say that now. You made your choice.”

Her jaw clenched. “And I’ve regretted it every single day since.”

Silence stretched, thick with years of unsaid things.

Then, softer this time—“You wanted a normal life. I wanted to give that to you.”

You turned to face her fully. “And what if I wanted you more?”

Her breath caught.

For the first time, she looked shaken. Vulnerable. “Then let me fix it.”

You let out a slow exhale. “How?”

She didn’t hesitate. “By showing you that my world can be yours, too. That this—us—can work.”

A beat. Then another.

And then, finally—

“Let me try.”

And for the first time in years, maybe—just maybe—you considered letting her.

Paige didn’t expect an answer that night.

The weight of her confession still hung in the air, and she knew you needed time. She had stolen your choice once—she wouldn’t make the same mistake again.

But she wasn’t done fighting for you. Not this time.

She started showing up even more. Not just at the places she knew you would be, but in the ways that mattered.

She learned your schedule, not to intrude but to be available. If you needed space, she gave it. If you wanted presence, she provided it.

Little by little, she wove herself back into your life.

When you had a late-night work event, she sent an Uber to make sure you got home safely. When you had a rough day, she texted without expecting a reply: Just so you know, I’m here.

And when you finally started responding—small things at first, short answers, a dry remark here and there—she took it as progress.

Because you weren’t ignoring her anymore.

The night everything changed, she found you alone on the balcony at a mutual friend’s gathering.

“You hate crowds,” she noted, stepping beside you.

You scoffed. “Then why are you here?”

She hesitated, then answered honestly. “Because you are.”

A beat of silence. Then, you sighed, rubbing your temples. “Paige, this… it’s exhausting. I don’t know what you want from me.”

She turned to you, eyes steady. “I want you. I always have.”

You let out a breath, shaking your head. “You don’t get to say that now. You left me.”

“I know.” Her voice wavered, but she didn’t look away. “And I hate myself for it. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is ask if there’s still a future for us.”

You stared at her, torn between frustration and something deeper, something that never really left.

Paige swallowed hard. “You said you wanted a normal life. I let you have it. But the truth is… I never wanted normal. I wanted you. And if you’ll let me, I want to give you a life where you don’t have to choose between love and normalcy.”

You exhaled sharply, emotions swirling. “And if I say no?”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but she nodded. “Then I’ll respect it. But I had to try.”

Your fingers curled around the balcony railing. The city stretched before you, endless and full of possibilities.

Finally, you looked at her, searching her face. “Then prove it.”

A slow smile tugged at her lips. “I will.”

And for the first time in years, it felt like something real was beginning again.

The weight of Paige’s confession lingered between you, heavy and unshakable.

You had spent years wondering why she left, why she walked away without a word. And now that you knew the truth, it didn’t make things easier. If anything, it made them harder.

Because she thought she was protecting you. And in doing so, she shattered you.

She didn’t push anymore after that night.

Instead, she let her actions speak.

She showed up. Consistently. Not just when it was easy or convenient. Not just in the spaces where it was expected.

She found ways to be in your world, the one she once thought she had to let you have on your own.

When you had a late night at work, she sent food to your office. When she had a game in your city, she made sure you had the option to come—never asking, just leaving tickets in case. When she was free, she met you where you were instead of expecting you to follow her pace.

And slowly, the walls you built started to crack.

The final step was hers to take.

She invited you to a game—one that mattered. A championship. A moment where the world would be watching her.

She didn’t ask for anything more than your presence.

So you went.

And after the game, when the confetti settled and the cameras pulled back, she found you waiting in the hallway outside the locker room.

Her hair was damp, her jersey still clinging to her. But none of it mattered. Not the victory, not the celebration.

Only you.

“Come with me,” she said, breathless and certain.

You hesitated. “Paige—”

“I already gave you up once. I’m not making that mistake again.” She exhaled, stepping closer. “You got to live your normal life. Now let me have my turn. Let me have you.”

The words struck something deep inside you.

She wasn’t asking you to give up anything. She was asking you to choose.

For the first time, the decision wasn’t made for you.

And this time, you knew your answer.

The mornings were your favorite.

Not because they were peaceful—Paige was anything but quiet.

She hummed while making coffee, danced around the kitchen in nothing but a hoodie and socks, occasionally bumping into you just to steal a kiss.

“You’re in my way,” you muttered as you tried to grab a mug.

She grinned, blocking you with her body. “No, I think you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t move away.

Balancing your worlds wasn’t easy, but it was never about easy. It was about effort. About making it work.

Some nights, you were in her world—attending games, sitting courtside, holding her hand in moments she once thought she had to face alone. Other nights, she was in yours—picking up takeout after your long workday, helping fold laundry, blending seamlessly into the life you once thought you had to protect from her.

“You don’t have to do all this,” you had told her once, watching as she stacked plates after dinner.

She gave you a look, one that said you should know better by now. “I want to.”

That was the difference. Before, she thought she had to choose. Now, she refused to.

Later, she lay on the couch with her head in your lap, scrolling through her phone while you absentmindedly ran your fingers through her hair. It was easy now—touching, being close. No tension, no hesitation. Just you and her, like it was always meant to be.

“I have a game in Chicago next week,” she murmured, looking up at you. “Come with me?”

You pretended to think about it, tapping your chin. “Hmm… what’s in it for me?”

She sat up, wrapping her arms around your waist, her lips brushing against your ear. “Everything.”

And she meant it.

No more running. No more regrets. Just Paige, and the life you built together.

Finally, home.

taglist:@alilstressyandlotdepressy @iowahawkeyes22 @delusional-day-dreamer @unadulteratedcyclepaper @nicebellee @livelyblues @paige05bby @munchtotally @vicsstufff @bucketbueckers @avvwritesstufff @wheeniemyloove@sarahkaisley@bueckersverse@caffeine-pup@ellehoops@angelliicc@ilomiloblohshh@surferandskater5@marissahowardd@carlaaaisinthehousew@potatobearsworld@celestixldarling@extalstar@averagelobotomyenjoyer@magnificentwastelandarbiter@shartnugget26@maddybuckets@bucketbueckers@drewlilbabe@aaaa46090493 @bebitts @ayyeliensuperstarr @apbueckers @leafoster17 @loudhandsbageldream @evanpeterstoe @geico-insuranc @msvclarkk @tashiagalinda @yailtsv

[yariation]

Love Hotel Megumi F. x Reader

Summery: During a mission at a love hotel, Megumi and (Y/n) encounter a curse spirit that’s got them both wet in their pants.

Warnings: VERY SMUTTY Smut, PIV, non-con?? Kinda?, mating-press, top!Megumi, under the influence?

A/n: First smut I’ve ever written.

Megumi and (Y/n) are on a mission together in a love hotel. ____________________________________________

"Shut it, will you?" Megumi's voice rough as he scolds you.

The two of your are strolling through the hallways of the love hotel. Here you are, yapping Megumi's ears off while the two of you search the building.

Megumi had received a grade one mission by the shamans. He was advised to bring a comrade, so he brought you. Now here you guys are, walking side by side in hallways lit by dim, hazy pink lights. The lighting design of the hotel could drag anyone into the intoxicating desire.

Everyone except for Megumi and you apparently. It's vacant, the building had been evacuated, because even the staff members were caught under the spell of lust. All the sex, all the blood caused by the uncontrollable friction.

"Do you feel its presence anywhere?" Megumi asks, his sharp eyes on you.

"I don't know. It's fuzzy, almost like it's everywhere." You respond, closing your eyes trying to focus.

Megumi tsks, unsatisfied with your answer. But he lets it slide for now. The two of you continue your search around the hotel. Peaking through ajar doors, ignoring the sour sent mixed with the smell of rose petals, wishing this would be over soon.

Suddenly, while walking down a pink tinted hallway the two of you see a purple fog. It's low and only just peaking around the corner. The two of you immediately start running over, making the fog retreat and turn the corner. The fine hairs on your arms stand, the tingle of the curse's presence triggering your tracking ability.

"That's the curse!" You exclaim.

"No shit, (L/n)." Megumi retorts.

You roll your eyes. By the time the two of you reach the end of the hallway and look around the corner, you find nothing. It's as if the purple fog just vanished. The only thing that remains is a lingering scent. Megumi and you stand there in defeat, staring at the dead end ahead.

"Damn it." Megumi grumbles under his breath.

That was the closest you guy's got to finding the curse. Without another words, you two take a sharp turn to continue your search around the love hotel, and continue to retrace your steps again and again. While you walk, you can't help but wonder what that smell is and how it somehow follows the two of you.

The scent is sweet, it smells of roses and candy. It suffices your nostrils and is actually almost addicting. 

"Do you smell that?" You ask Megumi as the two of you walk idly.

"Yeah..." That's when his eyes suddenly widen in realization.

"How could I be so naive?! Of course. Why didn't I sense if before? We're in a domain, (Y/n)." 

Your eyes widen too and you facepalm. You nod in acknowledgment. The two of you stop walking, pausing in the hall way that's filled with the same smell.

"Then we should probably retrea- ugh..." Your hand comes flying to grab your head.

"(Y/n), are you oka-" The same happens to Megumi and he grabs hold of his side.

You two try to take deep breaths, but it seems to be only getting worse. Your breaths are now heavy and in unison, bodies trembling with neither pain or fear.

"W-we should run." Megumi's groans, almost as if in pain.

You nod in agreement and try to move your legs, but they don't respond. Your body feels so limp and warm. With all the heavy breathing, strange feelings, the smell... The smell!

"Megumi! Quickly, cover your nose." You manage  to utter out before you collapse to the floor.

Megumi quickly uses one hand to cover the lower half of his face. Crouching down to scoop your figure up with his free arm. In a haste he brings you into one of the rooms with an open door. Like all the other ones, it's medium sized with a pink theme and a big romantic bed.

He gently lays you on the bed with the last bits of control he has over his body. Before he knew it, the both of you are seated on the bed, side by side and panting. Your head starts to feel fuzzy, but the fuzzier it gets, the more control over your body returns.

The same for Megumi. And one thing's for sure, but unspoken between the two of you. One thing you that is happening, but won't dare mention it to the other. Mostly because you can easily tell that the other feels it too anyway.

You're both hot and bothered.

"M-Megumi, do you feel-"

"Yeah..." He responds quickly.

Your gazes meet for only moment, but that was enough to make you both snap.

~~~

Megumi's breaths are steamy and hot as they fan against your flushed face. Both your dazed eyes gazing into each other as you frantically take off each other's clothes. Shirts, skirts and pants are tossed to the floor.

You lay on the soft bed as Megumi hovers over you, shirtless, his erection straining against his boxers that only grow tighter, as his body can only react in such ways seeing like this. 

Seeing you under him, bare. Nothing but two small pieces of clothing holding him back from just ravishing you. He leans down, hesitant, but the libido serves him confidence. Pink, slightly dry, but desireful lips grazing down the skin of your neck.

When you tilt your head up, he takes it as a sign that you're comfortable. So without another thought or nervous move, he starts peppering your neck with kisses. Licking, sucking and nipping at your pulse points.

Little hums leave your lips with every dance of his lips. He pecks kisses up to your jawline, till his lips meet your cheek. He stops for moment, parting from your skin. Your breaths tingling each other, combining where they meet.

"I never noticed how beautiful you are- no, wait... I have. I just... Never told you." His voice is husky yet soft.

His words make your eyes light up, your head only jerks slightly up, but Megumi finishes your actions for you, crashing his lips against yours. A little surprised mewl escapes your mouth.

"Fuckkk... I don't care if this is the cursed spirits doing, I'm having you right here and now." He mumbles against your lips, then presses his tongue against your teeth until you grant him access.

His tongue dances with yours, exploring every inch of your warm mouth. All the while his hand runs through your hair, his other one creeping down your waist, down your hip. His fingers find your panties, he gently pries your plush thighs apart.

With ease, the tip of his fingers meet your clothes clit, gently and slowly rubbing carful circles on it, eliciting a small moan from your lips.

Your little moan reaches Megumi's senses and sends the noise straight to his only hardening cock. He groans into your mouth as he moves his hips, his touch-deprived erection pressing against your thigh.

A loud pop noise is heard as your lips parts. Without another word, both Megumi's hands start racing down to just get those fucking panties off of you. Your breath hitches in your throat in surprise as you watch him slip off you panties and throw them to the side.

A heart beat is skipped when your beautiful body is revealed to him. Honestly, the sight of your pretty pussy is enough for him. He could spend the rest of the night just pleasing himself while looking at your flustered face and naked body.

He brings a finger to your already dripping hole, a result of the curse, and gently teases your soft, puffy lips. He drags the pad of his finger up and it flicks over you sensitive clit, making you gasp.

Sliding it back down, he slowly pushes his finger in. Your needy, warm, sticky walls immediately clench around it, making him smirk and chuckle darkly.

"Someone's a bit impatient."

His fingers curl inside you, causing you to whine. He pumps his finger in and out only four times, before he already adds a second. Scissoring your hole open for him. Fingers curling inside you, aiming for any spots that make you cry or moan.

Squelching noises fill the room as you only get wetter the more his fingers thrust in and out of you, grazing every right spot. His fingers are longer and bigger than yours, reaching places you could never. His skilled hands, flexible hands working you over.

You moan a loud whine when he suddenly pulls his fingers out. His hands move to the garter of his own boxers, slowly pulling them down. His erection springs free. 

His tips a pretty pink, his length enough to make you nervous, his girth probably enough to make your throat hurt from screaming.

"I'll start slow. But I'm not making any promises..."

He presses his tip against your wet entrance and starts to slowly push it in. Megumi's head throws back at how tight you are, only taking his tip. The new stretch makes you wince at first, but you could already feel the pleasure start to settle in. When your breathing returns to normal, he continues pushing in.

Inch after inch, pause after pause, to make sure you can take it. After one more push, he squeezes himself fully into your tight hole. He groans deeply, loving how you spasm around his dick. You envelope him so good and the sight is just as good. This is so much fucking better than his hand.

Hands are placed on your hips as he gets used to being inside you. He slowly drags himself out, before harshly snapping himself back in. You flinch and your back arches. Yet Megumi can't help but love how you squeak and only clench tighter.

"Y-you said you'd go slow!" You complain.

"I said I won't be making any promises." Those were his last warnings before he starts gaining a fast relentless pace.

Hips crashing against yours with every harsh thrust. His swollen tip bullying your sensitive spots you could never reach inside of you. His hands now placed at the sides of your head as he finds his rhythm.

Your thighs are wide open for him. Everytime he hears a loud whimper from you, he'd immediately memories where that spot was and would aim and hit it over and over again.

His dick slides in and out, as if he were in a rush. Slamming into you, as if he hated you. He buries his face into your neck and his hands fumble down to your legs.

He grabs hold of your plush thighs, pushing them back and slightly up. He adds a little roll of his hips with every thrust which also only quicken. He's got you all squirmy and loud, yet he still wants more. He wants you to feel the same pleasure he's feeling.

So unsatisfied, he pushes your thighs back a little more, then shoves himself back into you, deeper.

A smirk curls his lips and he continues to thrust and slam into your battered pussy. The stretch of his cock making your cry out in pleasure. His speed making you writhe. It's like his tip is punching your cervix. Again and again, until your head goes fuzzy, but he just keeps going.

But you feel his thrusts start to get sloppy. Though he refuses to let himself cum before you. He brings a shaky hand to your clit, rubbing hastily. His dick rubs against every inch of flesh inside of you.

"C'mon, c'mon. Come on my dick. Fuck- fucking come on it or I'll go insane." He punctuates his words with a harsh snap of his hips.

His words like a trigger, your back arches, your grip on the pink sheets tightening, your legs cling around his hips, pulling him closer and making sure he stays inside you.

Your orgasm hits you hard, your walls flutter and clench around Megumi's cock. Feeling you drip and spasm around him, brings Megumi to his own climax. He pushes himself as deep as he can into you, before shooting ropes of cum into your poor pussy.

~~~

You sit on the bed, cleaning and wiping yourself clean with a small towel Megumi had found. 

Megumi emerges from the bathroom, even though he hasn't even been there for long. In his hands he holds new, unopened vibrators and sex toys.

"Look what I found."

[snowysosturn]

Fire & Desire - Matt Sturniolo Part 29

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

Pairing: Y/n x Matt Sturniolo

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

Warnings: angst, tension, mentions of anxiety

I hesitate for a moment, my fingers gripping the edge of my drink cup. There’s still a part of me that wonders if this is the right decision, but deep down, I know I don’t want to be anywhere else.

“Yeah” I finally say, nodding. “Let’s go.”

As Matt starts driving, I pull out my phone and text Nick, letting him know I’m coming over. My stomach twists slightly as I wait for his response. A few seconds later, my screen lights up with a reply:

Nick: Oh, yay! Can’t wait to see you. Don’t worry, Matt’s not home, so no awkward run ins.

I nearly snort. If only he knew. I glance up at Matt, who’s gripping the wheel with one hand, the other resting casually on my thigh. He has no idea what I just texted, and I bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Matt notices my expression. “What?” he asks, side eyeing me.

I shake my head, slipping my phone into my lap. “Nothing.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it, turning his attention back to the road. The drive feels lighter now, less tense than before. 

We pull up to the house and park in the garage. Matt steps out first, and I follow close behind, my heart beating a little faster than I’d like to admit. The sound of our footsteps echoes as we make our way up the stairs, and before we even reach the top, I hear Nick’s voice calling out.

“Y/n! Finally, you’re here!” His voice is full of excitement, like he’s been waiting for this moment.

I hesitate at the last step, letting Matt round the corner first.

“Oh..I thought you were Y/n..” Nick says, his voice shifting in confusion. “She’s coming over so if you could stay in your room or something that would be great.”

I can sense Matt's confusion so I step into view and Nick’s eyes widen, flickering between the two of us. His mouth parts slightly, and then realization dawns on his face. His lips slowly curl into a smirk.

“You two motherfuckers came together?” he asks, but there’s no suspicion, just something like relief.

Matt just shrugs, and I nod. “Yeah, we uh.. talked.”

Nick stares at us for a second longer before breaking into a wide grin. “Oh, thank God.” he says, shaking his head. “I was starting to think you two were gonna keep being miserable forever.”

A small laugh escapes me, and Matt chuckles under his breath.

Nick steps forward, clapping a hand on Matt’s shoulder before turning to me. “I don’t know what was said, and I won’t ask. But whatever it was, I’m just glad you guys worked it out.”

I smile, happiness bursting in my chest.

Matt gestures toward the kitchen. We sit round the table as I eat my Raising Cane’s, almost catching up like nothing ever happened. It feels nice, being back in the house, feeling at ease, no awkward tension hanging over us. Nick cracks jokes here and there, and Matt chimes in effortlessly, like old times.

And finally things feel.. Normal.

The new normal.

Just as I finish my food, footsteps start to hit off the stairs, followed by Chris’s voice calling out a suggestion, something about tour, I assume.

“Yo, what if we switch the-”

He rounds the corner mid sentence and freezes. His eyes land on me and Matt, sitting side by side, and I watch as his expression shifts from shock to something softer - relief.

Chris doesn’t say anything right away. He just takes it all in, like he’s making sure he’s not imagining it.

Then, without hesitation, he steps forward, wrapping an arm around both Matt and I, pulling us into a hug.

“Man..” he exhales, his voice laced with emotion. “You have no idea how happy I am to see this.”

I let out a small laugh, feeling warmth spread through my chest.

Matt claps Chris on the back. “Yeah, well.. took us long enough, huh?”

Chris pulls away slightly to look at us, shaking his head with a smirk. “Damn right it did.”

Nick, still sitting at the table, grins. “Okay, now that the family reunion’s over, can we get back to what really matters?”

Chris raises an eyebrow. “Which is?”

I glance at Chris, remembering that he was mid sentence when he walked in. “Wait - weren’t you about to say something about tour?”

Chris leans back against the counter, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oh yeah. I was actually about to mention something about one of the venues, we’re finalizing the lineup, making sure everything’s locked in.”

I nod, taking in his words. “Damn, that makes it feel even more real. This tour is gonna come in so fast.”

Nick, who’s been quietly sitting, suddenly perks up and turns to me. “Wait.. do you wanna come?”

I freeze mid motion, my head snapping toward him. “What?”

Matt chuckles, nudging me playfully. “Yeah, Nick’s got a point. You should come on tour with us.”

Chris shrugs, a smirk creeping onto his face. “I mean, you’re already part of the crew. Might as well make it official.”

I let out a breathless laugh, shaking my head. “You guys are insane. Just like that, you’re inviting me on tour?”

Nick grins. “Why not? You’ve been around forever, and let’s be real, we need someone to keep us in check.”

Matt leans in. “And I wouldn’t mind having you around.. at all.” His voice dips slightly, a knowing glint in his eyes. “We just made up, and I don’t want to go back to missing you.”

I sit back, processing. Going on tour? Being around them, experiencing everything firsthand? It sounds.. incredible. But also crazy.

I glance around the room, seeing all three of them looking at me expectantly. A slow smile creeps onto my lips.

“Wellllll..” I drag out, making them all lean in slightly. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt to consider it.”

Nick throws his hands up. “That’s basically a yes!”

Chris grins. “Welcome to the tour, Y/n.”

The thought of being on tour with them fills me with excitement, being at every show, traveling on the tour bus, watching them in action from backstage. It’s a world I’ve only glimpsed from the outside, but now I’d be a part of it. And maybe, it’s exactly what Matt and I need, to rebuild, to reconnect, to find our way back to each other.

So of course I agree.

Chris and Nick exchange a look before Nick claps his hands together. “Alright, we gotta figure out wardrobe options before we have a full on crisis.”

Chris groans. “It’s not that deep, bro.”

“It is that deep” Nick argues, already dragging Chris toward his room. “We’re not stepping on stage looking like clowns.”

I laugh as they disappear down the hall, leaving Matt and me alone. The room falls into a comfortable silence as he turns to me, his eyes soft with something unreadable.

“I’m really happy you’re coming” he says, voice quieter now. “That I get to experience this with you.”

I nod, meeting his gaze. “Me too.”

A small smile tugs at his lips, and then, after a pause, he tilts his head slightly. “You wanna stay tonight?”

I smirk, deciding to mess with him just a little. “Depends.. do I still have bedsheets on my duvet, or did you take them all off?”

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. “I meant my room.”

That catches me off guard for a second, but I quickly recover, my lips curving into a slow smile. “Oh.”

His gaze flickers between my eyes and my lips, and for a moment, we just stand there, the air between us charged with something unspoken.

I bite my lip, then nod. “Yeah.. I’ll stay.”

Matt’s smile widens, and without another word, he takes my hand, leading me toward his room.

Two weeks have passed, and it's the first day of tour. ‘The Surprise Party’ tour. This tour includes meet and greets, Q&A's, surprises, and in crowd confessions. We got to San Antonio last night and had an early day doing rehearsal in the Tobin Centre.

Although I’m not working the tour, I’m purely here to support,I still find myself overseeing merch on the sly, just to make sure everything runs smoothly.

We stand in the dressing room, I turn to Matt, watching as he adjusts his ear piece. "Are you nervous?" I ask.

He exhales, running a hand through his hair. "Kinda."

I raise an eyebrow. "You’ll be fine, nothing you haven’t done before.."

He lets out a short laugh. "It’s the first show. Gotta set the tone for the whole tour, you know?" His eyes flicker to mine.

I nod in understanding. "You’ll be fine" I reassure him, placing a hand on his arm. "Once you’re out there, it’ll be like second nature."

Matt glances down at where my fingers rest before offering a small smile. "Yeah.. I think having you here helps."

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and Chris and Nick walk in, already buzzing with energy.

Nick walks in first, in a sharp and crisp suit, a stark contrast to Chris, who strolls in casually wearing a beanie, his usual laid back vibe. There's a moment of amusement as Chris adjusts his beanie before heading to the stage. "We’re getting called for the stage" he says, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

I follow them to the wings of the stage, positioning myself just out of view from the audience. My heart races a little with excitement, seeing the chaos and energy backstage. The lights dim, signaling the start of the show.

I take a deep breath, watching as the crowd roars with excitement.  Then, Chris does something unexpected. Mid walk out, he pulls off his beanie, revealing his hair fully bleach blonde. The audience erupts, the first surprise of the tour. The room is buzzing with whispers and cheers, and I can’t help but smile at how easily he captivates the crowd.

As the crowd’s energy continues to pulse, they transition smoothly into the next segment - a Q&A. The spotlight shifts to Nick, who’s standing with the microphone in hand. He begins, "Alright, I can tell we've got some burning questions from the fans tonight!"

The fans are eager, asking the questions they all want to know. There are some funny ones, some deep ones, but mostly lighthearted questions about life on tour and the boy's dynamics. I stand at the edge of the wings, watching intently, feeling the energy of the crowd, the excitement in the air.

As the Q&A wraps up, Nick grins mischievously, clearly excited about his own surprise. He leans into the microphone with a smirk, addressing the crowd. "Alright, alright, now it's my turn to blow your minds a little." The crowd’s energy shifts, intrigued and waiting for whatever he's about to reveal.

Nick steps back from the mic, his eyes scanning the crowd as if savoring the moment. Then, with a dramatic pause, he pulls off his jacket, revealing a brand new tattoo across his arm. The fans let out an audible gasp, their eyes widening as they take in the intricate design. It’s a bold piece, a combination of symbols and words that hold personal significance to him, and it’s clear from the way he reacts that this has been something he’s wanted to share for a while.

The crowd erupts into applause and cheers, their excitement evident. Nick laughs, taking a step back, letting the fans take it all in. He flexes his arm a little, showing it off to the audience. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice carrying over the mic. "Yeah, I know, it’s a big one."

The fans are loving it, shouting their approval. Nick’s always been one to embrace surprises, and tonight, he’s truly living up to his reputation.

As the applause continues to roll, I catch Matt’s eye across the stage. He’s grinning too, proud of his brothers and their ability to keep the audience on their toes. There’s a buzz in the air now, a sense of excitement that’s only building as the show goes on.

The mood in the room shifts again, the energy buzzing with anticipation as the crowd confessions segment begins. The stage lights dim slightly, the focus shifting to the large screen behind the boys. The camera crew starts scanning the crowd, and people excitedly wave at the cameras, some nervous, some eager. The buzz of chatter fades into a quiet excitement as the first confession is revealed.

Chris’ voice calls out through the speakers, "Alright, it's time for crowd confessions!"

The screen lights up, showing the first confession. It’s a simple text, but it makes the crowd erupt in laughter: "I once kissed my best friend, and we’ve never spoken about it again. Seat A23 – Amanda."

The camera cuts to the audience, and sure enough, Amanda's face appears on the big screen. She’s holding her hands over her face, clearly embarrassed but also laughing at the situation. The crowd cheers, and she waves at the camera, relieved the pressure of her secret is out in the open. The band's laughter rings through the speakers, with Chris joking, “Well, Amanda, I hope your best friend is sitting next to you right now!”

Another confession pops up, this one more heartfelt: "I’ve been struggling with anxiety for a long time, but I’m working on getting better every day. Seat D12 – Tyler."

The camera zooms in on Tyler, who looks a little emotional but also proud of the bravery it took to share this. 

 I glance at Matt, knowing that this is a topic that hits home for him, His expression softens as he lifts his mic, his voice calm but sincere.

“Tyler, first off, I just want to say I respect the fuck out of you for sharing that. Anxiety is no joke, and it can feel like it’s got a hold on you sometimes, but the fact that you're working on it every day? That’s strength, man. That’s something to be proud of.”

The crowd hums with agreement, a few cheers breaking out. Matt glances toward the general area of seat D12, as if he’s speaking directly to the fan.

“I know it’s easy to feel like you’re alone in it, but I promise you, you’re not. Even in a room full of people, I’ve felt that way before. But what’s helped me is remembering that the bad moments don’t last forever. Even when it feels like they will, they don’t.”

He pauses, running a hand through his hair before continuing.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out today, or tomorrow, or even next week. Just take it one step at a time, one day at a time. And don’t be afraid to lean on the people around you. You got a whole damn room full of people who have your back.”

The crowd erupts into cheers, and I glance at Matt, my heart swelling a little at how effortlessly he turns a moment like this into something meaningful. He grins, looking back at the screen.

“Stay strong, Tyler. And if you ever need a reminder that you’re killing it, you know where to find us.”

The audience claps, and the moment lingers in the air, a small but powerful connection between Matt and the fan.

As the cheers for Tyler die down, Matt looks up, shaking his head with a small smile. "Man, I love doing these. Y’all are way too real for us sometimes."

Nick chuckles, leaning into his mic. "Yeah, we go from laughing at some crazy confessions to getting hit with some deep, real life shit. It’s wild."

Chris flips to the next submission on the screen, grinning. "Alright, let’s see what we got next."

I shift my weight, watching as the next confession pops up. My eyes casually scan over the words - until they register. My stomach drops.

"I still have feelings for Matt, and I’d like to see where it could go. Seat C14 – Christina."

There’s no fucking way.

My heart starts pounding in my chest as the camera pans across the crowd, searching for the seat number. I stand frozen in place, gripping the stage curtain as the realisation sinks in. 

And then, there she is.

Her face appears on the big screen, looking smug, sitting pretty. The crowd reacts instantly - gasps, cheers, a few murmurs of recognition from fans who clearly know the history. My stomach twists.

There’s no fucking way this is happening.

a/n : i said SURPRISE MOTHER FUCKER (we have one more part left im gonna cryyyyyyy)

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[uncannydevotion]

thinking about. thinking about jeff and you being friends when you were both younger, before his family moved. thinking about the two of you crying the day he left, and how you gave him a shitty handmade bracelet, making him swear that he'd always wear it and that he'd never forget about you.

he promises to call you the first chance he gets, and even makes sure to memorize your mom's phone number, since your parents refused to get you one until you were older, so he can call you as soon as he gets to his new house.

even though you guys were hundreds of miles away from each other now, you two always spoke to each other every night before bed. jeff told you all about the new school he went to, and how he hated the place and how a few kids were picking on him.

"i can handle it, don't worry." he had told you when you voiced your concern, telling him he should talk to his parents about it, or tell a teacher at school. he didn't want to do any of that, but he agreed to at least talk to liu about it.

as the weeks go by, his calls become less and less frequent. you try keeping in touch, but he'd always cut things short, his mood suddenly turning sour during calls with you. sometimes, he wouldn't even answer the phone, and liu would instead.

but one night, when you called, it was his mom who answered the phone. she had been crying, from the sound of her voice, and she had simply asked for you to hand the phone to your mother. your mother had explained to you after the call that jeff had been in an accident, and that he probably wouldn't be able to talk to you for a while. she didn't go into detail no matter how much you had begged, but you weren't allowed to call jeff for a while after that.

but... one night, you had woken up to the sound of your mom's phone ringing. both of your parents must've been sound asleep, seeing as neither of them got up to answer the phone, leaving the task to you. you had answered immediately when you recognized the number.

"jeff?" you answered, keeping your voice quiet so you didn't risk waking your parents. on the other line, you heard breathing. but you knew it was him, "are you... are you okay? your mom said you were in an accident, and..."

he probably didn't want to hear about that, idiot.

"uhm... i made you another bracelet. i was gonna mail it to you, but i wanted to give it to you myself, so... next time we see each other, i'll make sure to give it to you, okay?"

he doesn't respond, and you felt silly for getting emotional, but you couldn't stop the tears in your eyes, "so don't get into anymore accidents."

and you swear you can hear liu calling his name, with something akin to horror in his tone, and then he hangs up, and you can't help but feel as if something bad had happened. the feeling was bad enough that it had you waking your parents up, tears streaming down your face as you tried to explain the feeling.

in the morning, you would learn that jeff had murdered his parents and brother, and that he was on the run.

your parents had done everything to remove any memory they had of jeff.

old photos, gifts he had given you, letters, they were all thrown out. the only thing you managed to keep to remind you of him was the bracelet you had said you'd give him.

but time marched on. you moved to a new state, and jeff became nothing but a memory. you made new friends, dated a couple of people, graduated high school and managed to make your way through college before finally, you ended up here.

back in your childhood home, chasing after a sense of nostalgia. this place had always been your home, and you knew that you were going to come back to it when you had grown up.

the neighbors were new, and there were new shops in the little town that you didn't recognize, but the place was still home.

you just hadn't expected someone else to have been waiting for you. you felt eyes watching you almost always, from the moment you returned. weeks into being back, and the feeling never went away. you tried telling yourself that it was just nerves, that there was nothing to be worried about.

how wrong you were.

the first time you woke up in the middle of the night to your phone ringing, you had been annoyed. you had work early in the morning, who could possibly be calling this late? and when you had grabbed your phone from the nightstand and answered it, muttering a tired 'hello?', you got no response.

other than breathing, that is. it left you with a feeling of déjà vu. you didn't think much about it and hung up.

but the calls didn't stop.

every night, you'd wake up to your phone ringing. every night, you'd answer the phone and you'd hear someone breathing on the other end. every night, you'd ask who the hell was calling you, but you'd never get a response. every night, you'd hang up.

and that's when the first person in town was killed. some guy who had been talking to you a bunch at work, you didn't even know his name. but he had been killed, and the media was ablaze with the story.

'notorious serial killer strikes in small town.'

memories of a forgotten friend haunted you that day, and when the night finally came, and the phone rang, you answered.

"...jeff?"

and as soon as you spoke his name, you heard something shatter downstairs. it sounded like a window. your heart pounds in your ears, a feeling of dread hitting you as you realize... he was in your house.

you hear jeff sigh on the other end of the line, and for the first time in years, you heard the voice of the man you once called your best friend.

'you still have the bracelet you made for me, yeah?'

[jedi-enthusiast]

And trying to talk sense into bigoted idiots like you who don't bother to do their research is somehow worse than trying to talk sense into a MAGA Republican.

Real quick, because I know you just heard the word from some TikToker with a couple thousand likes on their video, what EXACTLY is a Zionist? What's the definition, since you're so "well-informed" and totally not just parroting shit you've heard on social media?

...no answer? Great! The definition of Zionism, in it's simplist definition because there are many different sects, is just "the national movement for the return of the Jewish people to their homeland and the resumption of Jewish sovereignty in the Land of Israel" ...which, since I'm sure you'll find some way to turn this into a bad thing, is basically just the Jewish version of a "land back" movement.

To quote this page which answers the question "is Zionism Racism?":

"Zionism is the national liberation movement of the Jewish people, which holds that Jews, like any other nation, are entitled to a homeland. History has demonstrated the need to ensure Jewish security through a national homeland. Zionism recognizes that Jewishness is defined by shared origin, religion, culture and history. The realization of the Zionist dream is exemplified by more than four million Jews, from more than 100 countries, including dark-skinned Jews from Ethiopia, Yemen and India, who are Israeli citizens. Approximately 1,000,000 Muslim and Christian Arabs, Druze, Baha'is, Circassians and other ethnic groups also are represented in Israel's population."

So, in short: no, it's not racism.

And I KNOW you didn't bother to do any research because, if you did, you'd know that the ACTUAL movement you should hate is Kahanism, which is a racist fascist ideology that seeks to take over every part of the Palestinian territories, keep Jews and non-Jews segregated, and then either expel or enslave Palestinians and non-Jews.

Just because bigots like you decided to take a word you knew NOTHING about, do ZERO research, and then use it to justify your antisemitism and xenophobia doesn't change the actual meaning of the word---and I'm not gonna let you assholes try and rewrite this shit to act like your the "good guys" for being antisemites.

-----------

Now onto your actual points:

1. When did I say Jews were the only people who've ever been genocided? I pointed out the fact that it was a word coined by a Jew for a Jewish tragedy because CLEARLY all of you forgot that---which shows by you calling Jews nazis, saying they're the same or WORSE than the people who murdered millions of their people, and trying to turn the Holocaust into something it's not by making about every other group but Jews.

Maybe if y'all actually thought before you said shit like "what's happening in Palestine is the new Holocaust" (something I have seen multiple people say) then maybe I wouldn't feel the need to remind you where the word "genocide" comes from.

2. By all means, please point to the specific article that says that 7.9% of Palestine's population, which would be 395,000 people, have been killed---because my numbers have been reported on by MULTIPLE articles. Not to mention that, if you're saying that the original numbers they had were actually wrong and there's 40% MORE people dying, then their original numbers are also vastly different from every other paper reporting on the comflict---putting their original "wrong" numbers at 237,000 dead.

Not to mention that Israel has, for the most part, TRIED to reach a ceasefire but Hamas keeps refusing to give back the hostages and the bodies of those who've died---which, I'll remind y'all, is a fucking war crime.

3. Where did I say that unless the number is big people dying is fine? Where? If you'd bothered to look at literally any other post I've made on the subject, you'd know that I constantly HARP on the fact that people dying in this war AT ALL is HORRIBLE and TRAGIC and that I feel terrible for all of those affected. However, this was a post I made to discuss the statistics of wartime deaths vs. the Holocaust---since that is what people like you constantly compare this conflict to.

I was pointing out the numbers because, from how people like you like to act, you're treating this WAR as if Israel is the only country in the world that has ever gone to war and had civilian deaths---that Israel is SINGULAR in how terrible and awful they are. You don't treat any other country, or any other group, as awful as you treat Israelis and Jews for things that their GOVERNMENT is doing.

Russia is also in a war with Ukraine, and this war more closely resembles a genocide than the Israel/Hamas war, so where is this attitude towards Russians? Why are y'all not harassing Russians? Why are y'all not saying Russia should be nuked off the face of the earth along with everyone in it? Why aren't y'all demanding that Russians be excluded from literally every world event because they're "evil?"

I don't actually think these things should happen, but I find it pretty interesting that y'all will do this shit/defend it happening to Jews and Israelis because of your "moral outrage," but apparently your moral outrage only pops up where Jews and Israelis are involved?

Interesting.

4. How is me making a post pointing out that the Israel/Hamas WAR is not a GENOCIDE me running around with my head cut off?

Hamas may not be an official army, but they certainly are one---one whose literal CHARTER and GOALS state that they want Jews either enslaved or exterminated. They are a terrorist organization DEDICATED to this, so no I'm not gonna pretend that they're not a threat after what happened on Oct. 7th---where INNOCENT CIVILIANS were KIDNAPPED, RAPED, MUTILATED, AND MURDERED which includes WOMEN and CHILDREN.

I thought you cared about stuff like that, right? Oh, but apparently not, apparently the murder, rape, and kidnapping of innocent women and children doesn't matter when it comes to Jews and Israelis. Apparently Hamas isn't hurting anyone and isn't a threat even though they carried out Oct. 7th, even though they've been firing missiles and attacking Israel since then, even though people like YOU keep parroting their antisemitic lies and Jew-killing rhetoric or excusing their actions---therefore giving them more of a platform and more support for their cause [aka killing Jews].

I'm not gonna let y'all forget all the posts your movement made after Oct. 7th PRAISING what they did, being vocal about your support of them, and harassing anyone that tried to tell y'all that you were supporting terrorists.

And you wanna talk about Palestinian deaths? Why don't you talk about the fact that your beloved Hamas has stolen aid from Palestinian civilians and shot them when they've tried to take the aid meant for them? Why don't you talk about the fact that Hamas has made their bases in/below hospitals and schools and civilian areas so that they've become part of the "war zone" and therefore no longer safe (essentially trying to use the civilian population as a body shield)? Why don't you talk about the fact that Hamas is literally recruiting and using CHILD SOLDIERS for their attacks because they don't give a damn about children or civilians or Palestine?

Sorry but I'm not gonna take your "what about the WOMEN and CHILDREN" whining seriously when it's clear that you don't actually care about women and children, since you act like the deaths of Jewish and Israeli women and children don't matter and Hamas "isn't a threat" or "hasn't done anything" for people to worry about.

5. I'm sorry, but Israel literally houses 50% of the Jewish population in the ENTIRE WORLD, so yeah I'm gonna bring that up when people in your group are calling for the eradication of the country and everyone in it.

Also YOU GUYS are the ones that conflated Jews with Israel, YOU GUYS ARE THE ONES THAT STARTED THIS---you harass random Jews for no reason other than they're Jewish, you deface Jewish monuments and events, you want to exclude Jews from every space unless they denounce their Jewishness, you turned a Jewish word (Zionist) into some kind of slur, etc. etc.

YOU are the ones who did this, not me and not anyone else.

Also, not that it matters, but I'm not even Jewish (yet, at least) but it's funny how you saw someone calling out people like you for being a hypocrite when it comes to Israel and you IMMEDIATELY assumed that I was Jewish and trying to victimize myself---but who is conflating Israel with Jews again?

I don't think jack shit is gonna happen to me, personally. The antisemitism I've "faced" has largely just been miniscule in regards to my prospective conversion. But BECAUSE I stand for science, logic, and ethics I'm not gonna sit around and do nothing while bigots like you treat Jews and Israelis as sub-human for the crime of simply existing.

And finally 6. yeah, Israel and Palestine lived in peace for decades and I do believe they can do so again...but not with Hamas. HAMAS were the ones that broke the peace by carrying out Oct. 7th, HAMAS were the ones preventing a ceasefire by refusing to release the hostages, and HAMAS has to go if there's going to be any hope of peace---which is literally what the war is about. Dismantling Hamas.

I never once said civilian deaths were okay, that the deaths of children are okay, YOU are the one saying that and putting words in my mouth simply because I pointed out that you and yours hold Israel to a standard that you hold literally NO OTHER COUNTRY to.

So why don't YOU get your head out of your ass and go touch some grass?

Like I said, being a bigot in a rainbow t-shirt doesn't make you any better than the ones that wear swastikas 🤷‍♀️

I'm taking the word "genocide" away from Leftists and the "pro-Palestine" movement, because clearly y'all have never opened a single dictionary EVER and lack basic critical thinking.

The word "genocide" was coined by Polish Jew Raphael Lemkin to describe the horrifying systematic mass murder of Jews during the Holocaust, where 63% of all the Jews in Europe and 39% of all the Jews IN THE ENTIRE WORLD were murdered.

THAT is what genocide is.

Now let's take a look at a couple death toll estimates via the percent of the population during World War 2, since that's a pretty recent war that I'm sure everyone knows about:

Do you want to know the percent of the Japanese population that was killed during that war? 3.5%.

Now, guess the population percentage how many Germans were killed. Any guesses? 6%.

The US lost about .2% of our population, the French lost .5%, and then the British lost .55%.

Now that you have those statistics, what do you think the population percentage of Palestinians that have died during the Israel/Hamas war is? Any guesses?

It's 62,614 casualties, which we'll round up to 63,000 for simplicity, out of the total population of Palestine which is above 5 million (but we'll keep it at just 5 million for simplicity), and that gives us...

...1.26%.

I want all of you to take those numbers and think on that.

Think on whether or not you've ever tried to argue that Germans or the Japanese were being genocided in WW2, since they lost a bigger percentage of their population during that war than Palestine has.

Think on whether or not you've said that the US, UK, or any of the other Allied Powers should be nuked off the face of the earth, or that everyone---including civilians who've done nothing---should be murdered/raped/mutilated/etc. because of what their governments did during that war.

Think on whether or not you've harassed people from the US, UK, or other Allied countries for what went on during WW2 or excused harassment of them behind a tagline of "we're just protesting."

...

And then think on why you find it acceptable to treat Jews and Israelis like complete and utter SHIT, harass them, justify the murder and rape of their people, and say that the ONLY country that has ever actually been SAFE for them to live* should be wiped off of the face of the earth along with everyone living there (which is 50% of all the Jews in the entire world, mind you, which would be WORSE than what happened during the Holocaust...just so y'all know what you're advocating for)---for the "crime" of fighting in a war that was started by a terrorist organization dedicated to wiping Jews off the face of the earth, and having a total death toll percent less than what other countries had in WW2.

I want all of you to think real hard on that and then try to tell me that you're on "the right side of history" because you think being bigoted in a rainbow t-shirt makes you any better than the ones wearing swastikas.

[holylulusworld]

I’m your man (alpha)

Summary: Dean has had enough of watching you search for the perfect man.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Omega!Reader

Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, fluff, cocky Dean

A/N: Inspired by Wham’s “I’m your man.”

‘Am I a good man? Maybe I’m bad. I don’t know, to be honest—but I hope that I’m a good one. If so, why doesn’t she choose me?’ Dean thinks to himself.

He is watching some random alpha flirt with you from the other side of the bar. He had to fend off two needy omegas wanting his attention to focus on you tonight.

You fake a giggle, playfully slapping the alpha’s chest. You’re flirting, but it’s nothing serious. Dean knows you won’t go home with the douchebag nor let him claim you.

“I could make you happy, sweetheart,” he mumbles. It’s true. Deep down inside, Dean knows he’s the perfect alpha and mate for you. He just doesn’t want to risk ruining your friendship.

“Dean, you are staring at Y/N again,” Sam teases his brother. He smirks as Dean glares at him but doesn’t talk back. “Go over there and tell her you want her.”

“It’s not that easy,” Dean bites back. “What shall I tell her? Hey baby, why don’t you try with me 'cause I’m your man?”

Sam shrugs. “Why not? Simple and true. If you don’t admit your feelings soon, she’ll find someone.”

Dean’s features darken for a moment. The last thing he wants to happen is for you to find a mate in someone else. “I should talk to her.”

“Yes, you should,” Sam exasperatedly says. “She’s been looking your way all night. I don’t think Y/N is enjoying herself around that guy.”

“You think so?” Dean says, his brows furrowed. “Maybe I should go talk to her right now then. I can’t let her suffer.”

“Suffer. Right,” Sam is just done watching you and his brother pine for each other. He shakes his head before turning his attention toward the pretty bartender. Maybe she’s only a faded memory soon, but he’d be damned if he doesn’t take the chance on her tonight.

While his brother flirts with the bartender from afar, Dean slowly steps toward you and the guy is not leaving your side. He puffs his chest and narrows his eyes before calling your name.

“Y/N,” Dean only says your name and has your full attention. He holds out his hand to guide you away from the guy chatting you up. Dean almost feels sorry for the guy. He tried his best to impress you, but the alpha won’t let anyone get in between you and him.

Dean slings one arm around your shoulders, possessively holding you close to his body. “Uh, thank you for saving me. The guy wasn’t subtle at all,” you say, and lean your head against Dean’s shoulder. “Why does every single alpha I meet try to get me in their bed?”

“I’d only try to get you in my car.” He purrs in your ear. “The backseat is rather spacious.

“Asshole,” you grumble and elbow Dean’s side. “I mean it, Dean. I want a nice guy who’s not too bad to look at and has a good sense of humor. Maybe he’s good in bed too.”

“Check. Check. And check.” Dean pecks your cheek. “Why don’t you take a chance on me, sweetheart? I’m good-looking. Have a damn good sense of humor and…” He whispers the last part in your ear. “I’m good in bed and in my car and on any surface.”

“Dean, that’s not funny,” you grumble.

“Sweetheart, I’m not joking.” Dean sounds serious when he says, “I’m your man. If you’re going to do it, do it right. Do it with me.”

You stop walking and shake his arm off. “Dean, I told you this isn’t funny. That guy wasn’t for me, but this doesn’t mean you can come along and make fun of me.”

“Why do you keep wasting your time on other guys when I’m right here?” He throws his hands up. “I told you, I’m not joking, sweetheart.”

You search his face, trying to find any trace of humor. “You’re not joking…”

“I’m not joking,” he says and cups your face. “I’m your man, your alpha, if you want me to.”

“About damn time, Winchester!” You fist his jacket to bring him closer to your body. “Now, bed or your car?”

“Uh—maybe we should start with courting. I’ve got all the nice gifts to give you…”

[lady-arcane]

—Nothing Special—

Nanami doesn’t believe in doing things halfway. Not work, not fights, and certainly not meals.

----

It’s something you notice early on, the way he approaches cooking with the same quiet precision he applies to everything else. No shortcuts, no half-hearted attempts. Just careful, deliberate movements—measuring, chopping, stirring, tasting. He doesn’t rush anything, and there’s something almost meditative about the way he works. Like cooking is one of the few things in this world that make sense.

And yet, every time he sets down a plate in front of you, he shrugs it off with a casual, “It’s nothing special.”

Which is, frankly, insane.

Because Nanami’s cooking isn’t just good—it’s absurdly, unfairly good. The kind of good that makes you reconsider every meal you’ve ever had before. It’s balanced and flavorful and just indulgent enough to make you wonder if he missed his true calling.

He didn’t, of course. Because as much as you hate to admit it, he is a good sorcerer.-Even if you’d much rather see him somewhere else, somewhere safer. Somewhere with a kitchen instead of a battlefield.

-----

“You know, most people don’t just whip up a three-course meal on a random weeknight,” you tell him once, staring down at the plate he’s just set in front of you. “This is not ‘nothing special.’”

Nanami exhales through his nose, unamused. “It’s just a simple meal.”

“Nanami, there’s saffron in this.”

He barely reacts. “I had some left over.”

“Of course you did."

It’s a pattern, this quiet form of care he offers. He doesn’t say much about it, doesn’t expect praise or gratitude. But you see it in the way he portions out the food, always making sure your plate is full before serving himself. In the way he adjusts the spice level just enough to match your tastes. In the way he always, always makes sure there’s something comforting on the table after a particularly rough day.

You don’t always call him out on it. Sometimes, you just let it happen—this wordless, steady kind of love that he insists isn’t anything grand.

-----

But one night, after a long, exhausting day, you sit down at the table, take one bite of his cooking, and blurt out, “I think you love me more than I love you.”

Nanami pauses, chopsticks halfway to his mouth. Raises a brow.

You gesture at the food. “This is ridiculous. This is devotion. And I—what? I just show up? I sit here and receive all this?” You shake your head, overwhelmed. “It’s embarrassing, honestly. I need to step up my game.”

For a second, he just looks at you, unreadable as ever. Then, very quietly, he says, “You do more than you realize.”

And maybe it’s the exhaustion talking, or maybe it’s just the way he says it—calm, certain, like an undeniable fact—but you find yourself falling silent. Because when Nanami says something like that, you believe him.

The rest of the meal is quiet. Easy. And when you finish, setting your chopsticks down with a sigh, Nanami gives you a look and says, “So? How was it?”

You meet his eyes, dead serious. “Nothing special.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, just barely. But he doesn’t argue.

He just gets up, takes your plate, and starts cleaning up.

-----

Greetings, Dreamers and Readers ✨🌸

You know, I’ve been thinking—maybe cooking is a love language. My younger Bhai (cousin brother), for example, is an absolute menace most of the time (as younger siblings tend to be lol)

But when he’s in the kitchen, he always makes something for me too. Not in an overly sweet, “look how much I care” kind of way—more like a casual, “I was already making food, so here, take this” way. No big declarations, no dramatic gestures, just... an unspoken understanding.

Which, honestly, is kind of unfair. Because while I can barely cook to save my life, this little brat could probably become a chef if he wanted to. 😭✋

Meanwhile, I struggle to flip a half fry egg without cracking its yolk. Life is cruel like that. 🗿

But anyway—maybe food is one of those quiet ways people show love. No grand speeches, no poetic confessions—just a plate of something warm, made with care, set in front of you without a word. Feels very Nanami-coded, doesn’t it? lol

---

What about you guys? Do you express love through cooking? Or does someone do that for you? Let me know—I’d love to hear your stories! 🎀

[goddessofwind8water]

so I wrote this prior to the ask where it was said that they weren’t together in ether of these au’s. Also I didn’t check some details so their are some things off (locket not haveing fangs, etc) but I wanted to share anyways

so tada👋👋

Could you imagine being Ambulon in the bot!locket au? You assured them everything was ok, that it wasn’t a big deal, that there was no issue at all. Everything was fine. Then they disappear, you hope they’re ok, that they’ll reappear.

They don’t

Pharma does nothing to find them, but then again they were right, your patient survival rate has gone down hill. Without Locket, you, Aid and Pharma are all pulling longer and longer shifts. You barely have the time to touch up your paint, time off becomes a things you fantasize about in the brief moments between consciousness and recharge. So it make senses that Pharma might not have time to officially call a search for Locket.

Then

then the rust plague hits, you’ve been wondering if Locket was right, as time goes on it’s only seemed more and more likely.

then the Lost Light comes calling, they send their CMO and an entourage to help. They send the CMO and an entourage to finally figure out why the survival rate had dropped. The CMO almost reminds you of Locket, not in the big ways, not in color-scheme or attitude, but in the little things, the way he conducts himself while accessing a patient, how he clenches and unclench his hand while he thinks and by his side stands a mech who’s willing to cut up unarmed mechs not with a scalpels precision but with a sword. And stranger still he too reminded you of Locket, his smile is just like Locket’s, down to the little fangs that they tried so hard to hide. (That they never quite managed to hide when they smiled). It felt like an odd inverted mirror, like a prism splitting up your Locket, the memories of them refracted onto these strangers.

Not that you had that much time to reflect on that, because then things are happening. Things happen so fast and the next thing you know you’re now serving aboard the Lost Light, now knowing the truth.

Locket was right, something had been terribly wrong, Your boss had been killing your patients. Your boss had caused a plague, he had planned on killing you.

You sit in your hab, safe, for the first time in a very long time, you have free time. Your mind is swimming.You wonder about Locket, it seems a good bet that pharma has killed them, he’d always seemed to have a weird grudge against Locks, he might have just done in for that.

but that doesn’t stop you from thinking, was it because Locket was to suspecting? (a part of your processor screams, you don’t remember if you had brought up Lockets fears to Pharma. Had you? Had you brought them to his attention? You don’t remember, there had been so much going on. What if you had?)Has they tried to look into it after they had talked to you? Maybe if you had been just a little more convincing could you have gotten them to drop it? Maybe if you had just taken their concerns a little more seriously, helped them investigate, maybe you would have been there when Pharma found them.

Maybe you could have made a difference.

Maybe if- maybe If- it doesn’t matter now your aboard a spacecraft a million centihics away from Messatine, a million centihics away from your Lockets most definite grave.

Locket x Ambulon to heal (or hurt) the soul

[honeylouwho]

𐚁  tool girl ; clark kent

SYNOPSIS: being clark's tool girl comes with high pay PAIRING: clark kent x reader

WARNINGS: nsfw (18+) / fem!reader / p in v / car sex / being clark's tool girl / reader are clark are kinda obsessed with each other LOVE NOTE: based on this and this

“You love being my tool girl, don't you?” Clark Kent chuckled, fitting his hands around your waist and propping you up on the hood of his truck. His body nestled in between your legs as he stroked the inside of your thighs with his thumbs, the touch was familiar and welcomed, and his words had you melting like a popsicle on a hot day. Clark Kent was just so dreamy— it was almost like he fell from the sky, because a man of his looks and charm was just… unearthly. After a day of following him around the farm while he completed his daily tasks, he always rewarded you with a special treat.

Him.

“Is it time for my treat?” You asked Clark, cutting him off from whatever he was saying— words were falling from his lips but your mind had wandered to more important topics. The air was warm, but that wasn’t the reason your skin heated. It was the combination of his touch and all of the things he was about to do running through your head.

“You don’t listen to me at all, do you?” Clark shook his head, the smirk that is always on his face turning into a full fledged grin.

That’s how you ended up in his truck, flipped on your back as Clark jammed his big body in the cab. The space was small, but it was inviting because the two of you liked that there wasn’t much wiggle room. Bodies connected with no possibility for personal space, Clark already had your panties hanging around his rearview mirror, which was so unlike him, it only made your stomach burst with excitement. Feeling his cock enter you stifled any of the thoughts that were racing in the back of your mind. Now, your focus was only on the feeling of his shaft pumping in and out of you, the tip consistently hitting that sweet spot of yours and pulling melodious hums from Clark’s mouth. The noises he made were sultry and sugared, the gruffness of his grunts counteracted by the softness of his moans.

“So tight, just f’me?” Clark groaned in your ear, the sound forcing you to clench around him. Even if Clark wasn’t hitting your g-spot at a consistent speed or using his middle finger to overstimulate your clit, you probably could have finished at the sound of his grunts. You couldn’t help the way you fluttered around him, your body was just so responsive to every aspect of him. His voice, his muscles, his brain, it was like the two of you were interconnected in more than just one way when he was inside you. 

“Feels too good,” you said through moans, tipping your head back against the freshly upholstered seats of his red truck. Clenching your jaw, you brought your hand in between where your hips connected to try and stop his thrusts. If he didn’t slow down his pace, you were going to finish in an embarrassing amount of time. Clark knew exactly what was happening— his body was so aware of yours that he knew your subtle changes and body chemistry like the back of his hand.

“I know, I know. It’s okay, nothing wrong with feeling good,” Clark assured you, slowing down his movements to not overwhelm you. Somehow, the slower pace felt even better. The gentle rock of his hips, the seconds between each press of your g-spot nearly had you drooling. Reaching up, Clark wiped some of the spit that had accumulated near your lips, not mentioning how fucked out you looked to not make you self conscious, but the truth was he liked just how much he affected you. Feeling you squeeze around him, Clark milked you for everything you had. Gently, he rode you through your orgasm, letting you take what you needed for him. In a sense, Clark felt like this is just another way he could take care of you.

“That’s it, such a good girl. You were made for me, huh?” Clark thrusted one final time, his body collapsing on top of you as he rode out his high. With big blue eyes, he peered up at you, a cheeky grin plastered on his face, knowing round two was about to commence. 

“Round two?” you asked, his hard shaft still inside of you.

Despite his chuckle, Clark was ready to go again.

[2cupids]

cw! pervert!satoru, semi-public, cumming inside, assplay. mdni (17+).

pervy yoga instructor!gojo whose bright and outgoing personality has brought him a large following. pair that with his good looks and it’s made him one of the most followed yoga teachers in the country. his classes are always in high demand, with people coming from all over just for one class. it’s not uncommon having to book a class months in advance sometimes and wait in the queue for the next available spot, especially in the spring and summer months.

but masked behind his good looks and charm, lies a twisted mind of perversion. he’s constantly trapped in a room with women of all shapes and sizes; it's like he’s a kid in a candy shop who can take his pick from the wide ranging selection whenever he wants without the risk of ever being caught.

his sharp eyes pick up any and everyone whose form is improper while watching the women get in position, quickly walking over to each one to fix it. his smooth voice flows through the room as he speaks into the mic next to his mouth, instructing people to tighten up their form, now noticing the even larger number of women who are doing it wrong. 

of course no one bats an eye at what looks to be gojo just being a helpful and attentive teacher as he goes around to help and he knows it. but his true intentions are much deeper than just placing a hand on a woman’s lower back to help adjust her posture. 

what no one knows is how excited he gets as his fingertips gently touch the material of her yoga top or pants, and if he’s lucky, sometimes her exposed skin. any position where a woman’s ass is in the air or that exposes some cleavage is undoubtedly his favorite. and he always manages to conveniently position himself at the front or back of the room during these positions, wherever the view is the best from honestly.

obviously many women throw themselves at him, from bored housewives to young college students, even the older women who come to keep their bodies healthy. he always politely declines, much to everyone’s dismay, which earns him many groans and displeased looks thrown his way as he gives them that handsome smile and thanks them for finding him attractive. 

satoru gojo isn’t looking for a relationship or even a fling, at most he just wants a one time thing. if he’s being honest though, he’s far more content with continuing to appear as an unassuming man to hide his deeply rooted deviant mind. a man that goes home and fervently fists his cock while flipping through every perverted memory and thought.

that is until you come around. now he wants nothing more than to feel your body against his, no matter what it takes.

you’re a fresh face he notices in his class one day but he tries not to pay you too much attention, knowing how sad he’ll be if you happen not to come back and he doesn’t get to ogle that beautiful body of yours anymore. so when you begin to make regular appearances, he’s more than just thrilled, he’s ecstatic.

during class, his eyes not only flicker towards you more than any other woman in the room as he speaks, but they linger on your body longer as he makes his way around the class, too. often times he’ll find any excuse to touch you even though your form doesn’t need the slightest bit of fixing. the women with keen senses pick up on the small details that most normal people would overlook when it comes to gojo and his attention. you’re suddenly given unwelcomed looks of spite from them, completely unaware that they’re jealous you’ve caught the hot yoga instructor’s eye instead of them.

it’s not until one day as you’re rolling up your mat that you’re suddenly aware of the special liking gojo has taken to you. you’re the last one left in the room with him and he approaches you, appearing to make small talk with you, but his glances at your breast don’t go unnoticed. after a few minutes, he lets you go and wishes you a nice afternoon, but not before he lets his hand go to your back as you’re about to walk away.

the next few classes go by without incident and gojo starts to think he won’t get his way after all, maybe he should’ve just given into one of the other dumb broads in the first place. he’s starting to feel dejected and seeing you regularly only makes him feel worse. soon, he’s back to his usual self though, showing every woman in the class an equal amount of attention again, telling himself to give up and forget you.

weeks later, you find yourself to be the last one to leave class again today. 

now, the way everything went down from that point is up for debate, depending on who’s asked, gojo or yourself. the only thing that’s not up for debate right now is how gojo’s got you pressed up against the mirror in the studio with your back nicely arched as satoru digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your ass which is sure to leave marks, keeping your cheeks spread wide so he can watch his cock disappear into your juicy pussy with each thrust.

condensation fogs up the area of the mirror where your face is pressed to the glass, eyes shut as gojo’s deep voice tells you all the dirty thoughts he’s had of you. an opaque white ring clings to the base of gojo’s pale dick, a result of your juices leaking onto his shaft from the constant friction. deep blue eyes glance up at your pretty and fucked out face, taking in the sight of you. 

you’re really all his at this moment. submitting your entire self to him, letting him use you to his liking just like a fuck toy. without even realizing it, his hips come to an involuntarily halt as spurts of hot cum shoot into your pussy making your soft walls flutter around him.

gojo doesn’t go soft, he’s still extremely hard and ready for more, so without another thought he wastes no time in maneuvering both your bodies onto the floor, manhandling you into a perfect position for fucking that he’s taught in class before.

the fat tip pokes at your slick lips for the second time as he starts round two. he spits on your puckered asshole before slipping his thick thumb inside while roughly snapping his hips into your supple flesh.

[cameronsbabydoll]

THE PRINCE’S PRIZE — CHAPTER FOUR

WARNINGS — dark rafe!! he’s not a good person in this

The fragments of your past were like shards of glass—sharp, dangerous, and impossible to hold without cutting yourself. Memories came to you in pieces, flickering like broken images in your mind. Faces, voices, touches… all disconnected, too jumbled to make sense of. But there was one constant in it all: his face. Rafe.

It started with a feeling—a deep, gnawing emptiness in the pit of your stomach that had grown over the past few days. The more you tried to focus, the more you tried to recall anything from your life before this, the more fragments slipped through your fingers. You’d wake up from a restless sleep, drenched in cold sweat, your body aching with an unfamiliar soreness.

One night, as you lay awake in the grand bed, your body still feeling foreign, the flashes came in quick succession. Your eyes widened, your breath catching in your throat as the pieces began to fall into place. A pair of hands—rough and demanding—on your body while you lay unconscious. His voice—low and comforting—whispering promises in the dark, promises that you had never asked for, nor wanted.

You gasped as the truth hit you like a slap to the face.

Rafe didn’t save you. He didn’t break the curse. He had been the one who cursed you in the first place. He was the one who had taken you, violated you in your sleep, and made you his. The dark prince, not the savior he claimed to be.

Your chest tightened, and you gasped for breath. It wasn’t a simple curse. He hadn’t been trying to save you. He had been keeping you. He had been the one who bound you to him, trapping you in this kingdom, in this life. It had all been part of his plan.

Your body trembled, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to piece together everything that had happened. The memory of him hovering above you, his breath against your ear as he had whispered, promising you things you had never wanted. The weight of his hands on your skin as you drifted in and out of consciousness, unable to defend yourself, unable to fight back. And then... nothing. Just silence.

But now, the truth was undeniable. Rafe had taken everything from you—the life you had, the memories you had. He had stolen it all.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. You had to confront him. You needed answers.

Without thinking, you rushed through the darkened halls of the castle, your footsteps echoing in the silence. When you found him, you were shaking with anger, your heart racing in your chest.

Rafe was in his study, leaning against the large desk with a smug smile on his face as he looked up at you. He didn’t even flinch when you entered, didn’t seem surprised by your anger. He just watched you, eyes narrowed in quiet amusement, as if he already knew what you were about to say.

“I remember,” you whispered, voice trembling with fury. “I remember what you did. You didn’t save me. You took me.”

Rafe stood slowly, his tall frame looming over you as he closed the space between you. His smile was slow and dangerous, and his eyes glinted with that same possessive hunger you had seen from the very beginning.

“Does it really matter, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as if your words were nothing more than a passing irritation. He reached out to trace a finger down the side of your cheek, his touch sending a shiver through your body. “You’re mine now, and that’s all that matters. You don’t need to remember what came before. All that matters is what we have now.”

You pulled away from his touch, heart pounding in your chest as you tried to back away, but he was quicker than you. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping your wrist firmly, pulling you back to him. You gasped, the force of his pull knocking the breath from your lungs as he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re mine either way,” he repeated, his voice smooth, almost tender, but there was a dark undertone to it that made your blood run cold. “No matter what you remember, no matter what you think you’ve lost, it doesn’t matter. This is who you are now. This is who you’ll always be. You belong to me.”

His words wrapped around you like chains, cold and unyielding. Your heart sank as the full weight of the truth settled in. There was no escape. No freedom. No future outside of this.

He had taken everything—your memories, your life, your choices—and now he was holding you captive in this gilded cage he had built around you.

And deep down, in the darkest corner of your mind, you knew there was no way out. You could fight him, scream at him, try to run, but it wouldn’t matter. He had you. He had always had you.

There was no escape.

[daenysx]

Maybe some James potter smut since it’s his birthday? (Idk if it’s still his bday where you are but whatever)

happy birthday to the loveliest boy ever ♡

-send me drabble requests!

james potter x fem!reader, smut

James tells you he's proud of you all the time.

Every time he does it, his words leave a gentle rush of waves in your stomach. Something crawling slowly, like he's gonna ruin you. He looks at you with widened eyes, a small smile curled up on his lips, and you are dying to kiss him.

He whispers it, the first time in three days, and your fingers on the keyboard slow down. His voice sends shivers down your spine and it's a delicious feeling how he can make your mind go blank with only a few words. You press your cheek on your shoulder, a lazy attempt to get back to your senses. James takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck.

"Jamie," you murmur. He knows what he's doing, never clueless when it comes to you. "I have to finish this."

"You've got an entire night ahead of you, angel," he mumbles. "Can I maybe have some of your attention?"

Fuck him for being so sweet. He plays his part well to distract you, craving your attention like he's been starved for it all day.

"I can help you with your work later," he offers when you stay silent. "If you take a break with me."

James has a pair of convincing eyes and when he watches you like he needs you, you can't keep doing your work properly. You turn your face to him, recognize the vulnerable look in his face.

"Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods.

"Just tired," he replies. "I, um, kinda had an argument with Tom today."

Tom is one of his closest friends on the team, a person who makes his long training sessions more bearable. They don't really argue, this might even be the first time. Your brows get together with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," you say, standing up and leaving your laptop.

"That's okay, we'll probably fix things tomorrow," he says. Sunshine personified, your favorite person in this world. "I just don't want to think about it now."

You take his hand, lead him to bed. It's messy with the blankets thrown over four different colored pillows. A silent practice, how you get your body tangled with his. He lifts his leg to settle it down between your thighs and you press yourself without being embarrassed at all. No need for that, he keeps telling you.

"What were you whispering?" you decide to distract him with a lazy tease. "Before you took me away from my stuff?"

"I'd say you willingly left, but the details are not important, huh?"

He gets on top of you with half of his body, looks at you with hazy eyes. Gorgeous boy.

"And I was just talking about how good you are at what you're doing," he whispers and kisses your cheek. "With that frown on your face when you're upset with it. Or with you biting your lip in pride when you got something right."

"You were watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

You kiss him and he closes his eyes. It's been a long day. He got through it somehow, but being able to relax after a day like this is not easy. Even James Potter needs to be taken care of sometimes.

His fingers are wanting, stroking your waist eagerly. The kiss lasts for a few minutes, whispers of affection lingering in the air between you. Your hands play with his hair, big waves falling in your palms as you move.

You take off your shirt. Nothing happens too fast and it's a good thing. How could he rush this when he got it after wanting so much? Desire pooling in his belly, legs shaking and James swears he could moan when you rub yourself on his thigh.

His shirt's on the floor, too. Every piece of clothing on both of you gets lost and James kisses your inner thigh.

"Get under the blankets," James tells you. "It's cold in here."

You do as he says with his help, pulling his naked body under the soft fabric with you. "I'm feeling really warm," you tell him with a sneaky smile that usually belong to his part of teasing.

"Yeah?" he asks against your collarbones. "Can you show me where?"

You take his hand and drag it slowly to your belly. He does the rest of the job and moves his fingers to your wetness. Sticky sweet under his touch, lazy and wanting. You close your eyes and let him play with you.

James has long fingers and they are thick, but he makes sure they are warm enough every time he touches you. His thumb spends a few second with your clit and he uses others to spread the wetness all over you. You lift your hips when he presses just right, his eyes are glowing with something both exhausted and excited.

"Pretty," he whispers, his fingers find a nice rhytm. It's lazy and slow, a gentle touch on your body and he feels like he belongs here. Right here on the bed, under blankets and his hand never stops touching you. He keeps moving until he has you shaking with a tender wave of shiver.

"It's not gonna end," he murmurs on the side of your neck, his lips not kissing and letting you go mad. "I promise I'll keep going."

He sounds so in love, but so tired. You don't even try to stop yourself from accepting the rush his fingers bring, it's strong and you arch your back. Pleasure has you trembling, it's delicious, and you let out a songlike breath. You want to beg him to kiss your neck, he understands your shaky breaths and finally parts his lips against your pulse point.

His fingers keep moving the way you like. You can't see his face as he's kissing your neck, sucking a little bruise there, you hold the back of his head gently to look at him. A pair of lovesick eyes, his lips are swollen and cheeks warm with desire. You can almost feel him rubbing himself on the sheets, the thought of it is enough to let go.

"James," you whisper, desperate to touch him with your free hand. He stays still. "Don't do it yourself, I wanna help. Please, oh-"

He doesn't listen. He can't. His hands are busy and he can't breathe, he needs to come undone. Adjusting his hips, he gets some stimulation from the sheets, enough to make him moan. "I'm so tired, I need to come with you. I can't- can't wait, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Let me touch," you say in a demanding but soft voice. "Let me help."

James listens to you this time, he knows you'll do a better job. He comes up a bit higher in bed for you to reach him, you eagerly extend your hand to feel. It's not difficult to get him right there with you, the moment before the peak. He closes his eyes and puts his head on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple to ground himself. He's moving his hips against your hand, a big breath ready on his chest.

You come with a moan. James thinks it's the prettiest sound ever. With the rush of the moment, you move your hand faster and he follows you. Your mind goes blank, the world gets blurry. James stays on your chest, his body feels heavier now that he's relaxed. You love seeing him like this, without the anxiety his day left behind.

"Need to clean us up," he mumbles. He's half asleep. "It's uncomfy."

You smile softly. He doesn't even have the energy to blink. "Stay for a while," you tell him, your hand in his hair to fix his waves. "We can do it later."

It's tempting and James is easily convinced. Your chest is the perfect pillow, his head moves as you take calm breaths. Rubbing the tired muscle between his shoulder and neck, you urge him to fall asleep. He forgets everything other than your touch.

[ghosteywiththemostey]

Platonic yandere x reader

You shouldn’t have left the door unlocked Only a short one, just getting started

Work was an absolute shitshow. You were already on the late shift but problem after problem after problem had meant by the time you shift had actually ended, it was already midnight. But at least you were getting paid for it. The main drawback of having to stay late right now was the walk home. Usually you could get the bus on late shifts to avoid having to walk the dark streets alone but being held back meant that the last bus had been and gone and the only option was to walk. No money for a taxi, no friends near enough who could drive. You were just lucky that this job was only a 20 minute walk from home.

You walked down the busy streets near the town centre but as you got further from work and closer to home, the buildings grew sparse and so did the streetlights. How come only one in five were ever working? The narrow path between a copse of trees and the fenced off building site became a tunnel of shadows and lurking monsters in the dark. It felt like you were being watched. Anxiety heightened, your keys slipped between the base of your fingers facing out, ready to at least attempt to fight if anything happened. But nothing happened. Not down that pitch black path, not down your semi-lit street, not at any point on the walk. But the feeling of being watched didn’t lessen. Just paranoia, you thought as you walked into your building and up the stairs to your flat, no one was actually there. It was all in your head.

It wasn’t until 5 minutes after you took a sip of your drink you’d made when you got home that you realised you might’ve been wrong. Your limbs feel light and your head feels like it’s being held up by string. Your eyelids grow heavier and a soft tingling sensation moves up and down your back and your thoughts become jumbled. The back door opening sounds like a distant memory. The hands on your face, the ghost of a love long forgotten. The kiss on your forehead, a grandmother dead for a decade. The only thing that feels current, like it’s happening now, is the kind, almost whispered voice of the blurred shape in front of you.

“I hope it wasn’t too much,” it said “I didn’t expect that you’d already been so worn out by the time you would be taking it”

The voice is making no sense, meaningless sound coming from the moving contraption that is now so close to your face.

“If only you hadn’t needed to stay so late. I was so worried I had to come see what the hold up was. I thought you’d gotten hurt. But no matter. You’re safe now. No more late shifts, no more walking home in the dark of night. I’ll look after you”

The sound rambles on and on about god knows what. But it has a soothing rhythm to it. A pleasant lilt. You rise and you feel like you’re floating and as you’re moved somewhere warm and cosy you drift off, the background rumble and feeling of movement working with the soft voice are enough to send you off into a deep, deep sleep.

[xmads-omensx]

if i may suggest... noah supporting neurodivergent!reader during a sensory overload? maybe after a show or if they're out in public together

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Neurodivergent!reader

CW: mentions of being overwhelmed, mentions of feeling anxious, mentions of sensory overload

I hope you enjoy my love!

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @death-ofpeace-ofmind  @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess @athenexe

Noah understood that this sometimes happened to you as you had warned him about it very early on in your relationship, but he had never seen it happen in public.

You have had “episodes” like this a handful of times at home when music has been too loud, or a movie has been similarly too loud mixed in with flashing lights, but you always came around so to speak quickly.

This, however, was different.

A plan had been put in place a while ago.

Noah had even given you a broken down time sheet for the day at the festival.

Mayhem was one of, if not the biggest, show that Bad Omens had done.

Noah took extra measures to make sure that you felt comfortable and safe, this broken down time sheet being one of them.

You liked the structure of it, and it helped reduce any stress you had towards the day.

The show itself was enjoyable. Really enjoyable.

Noah had some protective headphones placed at the sound booth with Matt so that you could minimise some of the noise, which helped a lot, but there was nothing that could have been done about the lights.

Noah’s time sheet did help with the pyro and preparing for those bangs.

After the show, Noah knew not to rush over to you just in case he overwhelmed you, but you cuddled into his side, showing him that you were feeling good.

That changed, however, when you were at the hotel and bumped into some fans in the lobby.

You were already starting to become very overwhelmed with all the conversations you had to have that day, the show itself and the debriefing after.

Your choice in shoes didn’t help either as they were now rubbing very uncomfortably.

Noah stopped to talk to the fans, most of whom spoke in a high pitched, excitable voice (which you didn’t blame them for since it’s exciting meeting someone you’re a fan of), but it was all becoming too much.

The lights in the lobby were too bright.

The drilling on the street outside was too loud.

The elevator singing was irritating and was happening in an irregular order.

Safe to say that your senses were entirely overloaded.

Your mind felt like it was running a thousand miles an hour as you tried to focus on every single thing that was happening around you, making your breathing quicken.

Luckily, Noah noticed your breathing becoming more laboured as you looked around the space frantically and tried to guide you to the elevator without touching you.

Upon arriving in your hotel room, Noah ran you a shower, making sure it was warm.

Whilst you were in there, Noah tidied up the room as best he could and made the room as dark as he could.

You exited the shower a while later to find Noah sat on the bed in the darkness waiting for you.

“Do you need anything?” He asked.

You shrugged.

“Need a compression hug?” He asked.

You nodded and waddled over to him.

He stretched his arms out wide and pulled you close, locking your arms in and squeezing as tight as he could until your breathing regulated and your head flopped against his shoulder, signalling that you were ready for him to let go.

Those hugs were your saving grace in times like these.

It was like all the things that were overwhelming you drifted away as you focused on the man holding you tightly.

It was like he was filling your lungs with brand new air whenever he did this for you.

You didn’t speak for the rest of the night, Noah simply letting you take the lead as to not overstimulate you further.

You were feeling better in the morning, despite being non-verbal for the time being.

Noah didn’t mind.

He just wanted you to be okay.

Besides, the two of you had worked on communicating in times like these many times, so this wouldn’t be a challenge.

He was just happy that you weren’t suffering anymore.

[mariespen]

➸ Rookie Mistake

Sheriff!Rafe x Teacher!Reader

➸ Masterlist!

Requests open!

Rafe had been fighting with his new rookie for a month, until it finally seemed to turn around. Just as he was gaining Rafe's trust, the accident happened. Warnings: Mentions of a car accident, curse words, and life-threatening situations. hurt/comfort!

Rafe came home, his usual confident stride weighed down by frustration. The second he stepped through the door, though, Oliver barreled into him, hugging his legs like a vice.

“Daddy!”

The others weren’t far behind, swarming him with excited chatter about their day.

From the kitchen, you glanced up from your book, The Communicative Patterns of Our Upcoming Youth, stirring a simmering pot of soup with one hand.

“Hi, Rafe!” you called, swaying lightly to the soft music in your earbuds.

He spent a few minutes indulging the kids, the tension in his shoulders slowly unraveling. Eventually, he found his way to you, arms slipping around your waist from behind.

“Hi, sweetheart…” He exhaled against your neck, inhaling the familiar scent of your shampoo, grounding himself in the warmth of home.

“What’s wrong?” You turned, already sensing the shift in his mood.

He groaned, rubbing his eyes before leaning on the counter.

“Got a new rookie.”

You quirked a brow. “Your problem this time?”

“Mhm. Can’t pawn him off on Smith anymore.” Rafe scrubbed a hand down his face. “22 years old. Name’s Miles.” He exhaled, shaking his head. “Kid’s exactly like me at his age. Painfully. Same mistakes, same big mouth, same damn attitude.”

A slow smile tugged at your lips. “A taste of your own medicine?”

Rafe huffed. “God, how did you even put up with me?”

“You figured it out,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Only for you.”

Before you could respond, your daughter tugged at his sleeve, holding up a crayon drawing with a proud smile.

“So beautiful, sweetie!” Rafe said, scooping her up effortlessly.

The night carried on as usual, dinner filled with laughter, the morning routine its usual chaos. But when Rafe walked through the door that evening, something was off.

The kids swarmed him again, and he smiled—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

You wiped your hands on a dish towel as he approached, the usual romance of your evening greeting weighed down by stress.

“What’s up?” you asked softly.

Rafe sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Miles. What a dick that kid is.”

That became the routine. Every night, the frustration mounted:

Miles almost wrecked a car during training.Miles was smoking on the job.Miles sat on his damn phone all day.Miles cussed out an officer.

And yet, despite everything, Rafe didn’t give up on him.

And then—the shift.

Slowly, the complaints dwindled. The frustration softened.

“You know, Miles is finally catching on,” Rafe admitted one night, almost surprised at himself.

And suddenly, Miles wasn’t just the problem anymore.

Now, Rafe came home talking about how the rookie was sharp, how he was improving, how he was getting his act together.

Then—just as quickly as things had improved—the worst happened.

Rafe walked in that night with his jaw clenched so tight it could crack.

“I gotta take dinner to go,” he muttered, voice hoarse, strained.

Your stomach dropped. “Rafe?”

He barely looked at you as he shrugged on his jacket.

“Miles… fuck. He’s in the hospital.”

The words sucked the air from your lungs.

“What?” You grabbed his face gently, making him look at you. “What happened?”

“I was stupid,” he ground out. “Let him drive the car. It was just across town, nothing serious. But then—this group of kids… they came up on him.” He swallowed hard. “God, they hit him. Head-on.”

You felt cold all over.

Rafe’s eyes darkened as the memory hit him like a freight train. The crumpled wreckage. The blood. The silence when Miles didn’t respond.

“I got the call seconds later,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “I was there in minutes. He was barely breathing when I pulled him out.”

His shoulders slumped, heavy with guilt.

“I shouldn’t have let him drive. I should’ve been there.”

“Rafe, no…” You reached out, pressing your palm against his chest.

But he shook his head. “I gotta go help him. I’m not letting him sit in that hospital alone.”

You packed his dinner in a to-go container, pressing a kiss to his lips before watching him kneel down and hug each of the kids a little tighter than usual—a silent reminder of what he had.

One last apologetic glance your way, and he was gone.

That night, Rafe sat beside Miles’s hospital bed for hours, the rhythmic beeping of machines the only sound in the sterile room.

He barely moved. Barely blinked.

Waiting.

Thinking about all the things he wished he’d done differently.

At 2:14 AM, Miles finally stirred under the thin sheets.

Rafe jolted upright, the movement snapping him out of his half-asleep trance.

“Shit—Miles, how do you feel?” he asked, gripping the kid’s hand instinctively.

“Fuck…” Miles groaned, eyes barely opening. His face was littered with cuts, bruises, regret.

Rafe swallowed hard. “Listen, I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I shouldn’t have let you—”

“Dude.” Miles cut him off, voice raspy. Their eyes met.

“You saved my life, man,” he muttered. “Don’t give me that apology bullshit.”

The breath Rafe had been holding finally released.

He huffed a quiet laugh, running a hand through his hair. After a beat, he reached into his bag, pulling out the container of food you had packed.

“My, uh… my wife made spaghetti,” he said awkwardly, clearing his throat. “Figured you might want something that isn’t the shitty hospital food.”

Miles perked up immediately.

“Fuck, yeah.” He took it without hesitation.

The next morning, when Rafe finally stepped through your front door, the exhaustion was still there—but for the first time in days, so was the relief.

You shot up from the couch. “Rafe? Is he okay?”

A tired smile tugged at his lips as he wrapped you up in his arms.

“Yeah, sweetheart. He’s good.”