#Final Countdown: 6 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

uncuredturkeybacon · 1 month ago

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𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑 || 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚐𝚎 𝚋𝚞𝚎𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚜 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

in which she'd always wait for you

Minnesota smells like wet leaves in the fall and frozen basketball nets in the winter. You always liked that about it—the way it feels like it remembers things. People. Moments. Promises.

You were eight the first time you saw her.

Your mom had just dropped you off at the rec center playground, warning you not to get your new sneakers muddy. You promised. They were already muddy by the time you spotted her across the court.

She was loud. Blonde hair pulled up into a messy ponytail, baggy T-shirt too big for her, high socks rolled down like the boys did. She was barking plays like she was coaching a real team—telling two kids where to cut, waving her hands for the ball.

“Hey!” she yelled at a boy who missed the pass. “Eyes up, Ben! Come on!”

You leaned against the fence, half-curious, half-amused. She caught your stare and tilted her head.

“You play?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Sometimes.”

“That’s a yes,” she said, already tossing the ball your way. “You’re on my team.”

You didn’t even hesitate. That was the thing with her from the beginning—Paige Bueckers said something, and the world tilted to make it true.

You stepped onto the court, pushed your sleeves up, and passed her the ball.

She grinned. “You got a name, or do I have to make one up?”

“...Y/N.”

She repeated it under her breath, then pointed at her chest. “I’m Paige. Let’s win.”

You didn’t. You lost 11–6. But she high-fived you like you’d just won a championship.

And then she said, “Wanna walk home with me?”

You blinked. “I don’t even know you.”

“Exactly. What better way to fix that?”

So you walked home with her. And then again the next day. And the next. Until it just became… a thing. Paige and Y/N. Always together.

By middle school, you were known as her shadow.

You weren’t flashy like her. You didn’t light up every room or make people laugh until their stomachs hurt. But she always turned to you first—at lunch, on the sidelines, before tip-off.

She would find you across a gym packed with screaming fans and point. Just a subtle nod. A silent thing.

That was hers.

You once heard someone whisper, “I don’t know if they’re dating or just soulmates.”

And honestly, you didn’t know either.

You were fourteen. Paige had just scored the game-winner in a weekend tournament, and her dad drove you both home with pizza in the backseat.

She crashed on your living room floor, both of you staring up at the ceiling, still sweaty and laughing.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly quiet.

You turned your head. “Yeah?”

“If we make it big one day,” she said, “like, real big… you’ll still walk me home, right?”

You smiled. “Even if it’s across the country.”

She rolled onto her side to look at you. “Promise?”

You reached out your pinky. “Promise.”

Her finger hooked yours.

And something shifted in the silence.

It wasn’t dramatic. There was no single moment where you said this is love.

It just… was.

The way she leaned into you when she was tired. The way you tied her shoes before games. The way she said “I got you” like it meant everything.

It did.

By the time high school rolled around, you were the one she trusted with the things she couldn’t say out loud. Her nerves before scouts came. Her doubts about being good enough. Her fears of leaving Minneapolis.

And she knew your fears, too. That you didn’t want a normal life. That maybe college wasn’t the only way forward.

That you were thinking of joining the military.

She said nothing at first when you told her. Just stared at her hands for a long time.

“Is it because of your dad?” she finally asked.

You nodded.

“And because… you want to do something bigger than this?”

You nodded again.

She reached across the bench and gripped your hand.

“I don’t like it,” she whispered. “But I’m proud of you.”

You didn’t know it yet, but that would be the last version of you she’d get for a long, long time.

High school felt like a countdown—though neither of you said it out loud.

Paige was on fire from the minute she walked into Hopkins. Freshman phenom. Banners with her name. Coaches from every D1 program in the country showing up with clipboards and fake smiles.

But when the gym lights went down, it was always still just you and her. Stretching side by side before practice. Sharing one AirPod on the bus. Eating postgame fries in silence because she was too tired to talk and you already knew what she was thinking anyway.

It wasn’t perfect. Not always.

Sometimes, she’d miss a movie night because she was reviewing film. You didn’t take it personally. Other times, you’d forget to text back because you were three hours deep into a military history rabbit hole and she’d pretend to be mad but she wasn’t, really.

You had this rhythm. A quiet, humming understanding. People mistook it for romance. It wasn’t. Not yet.

But it was close. So close it hurt sometimes.

You never told anyone, but your favorite part of game nights wasn’t when she scored thirty points. It was when she looked for you in the crowd before tip-off, eyes scanning until they landed on you—and then she’d relax. Just a little.

Like you were a lighthouse and she was always, always coming home.

It happened after a big win—regional finals. The gym was loud, the air thick with sweat and confetti and cheerleaders screaming. Everyone was pulling her in every direction.

But you were leaning against the back wall, hoodie up, letting her have her moment.

She found you anyway.

Grinning like she just discovered oxygen. She crashed into your chest and wrapped her arms around your waist, laughing into your hoodie.

You didn’t even think. You just kissed her. Quick, stupid, stunned.

She pulled back, wide-eyed.

And then she laughed again—brighter this time.

“Took you long enough,” she whispered.

And then kissed you back.

You didn’t label it.

You weren’t dating. You weren’t not.

You were her person. She was yours. And that was enough.

The real talk started senior year. She got her UConn letter first. You were there when she opened it—your hands shaking harder than hers. You were the one who screamed first. She tackled you to the floor, the paper crumpling between your bodies.

A week later, you told her your plan.

Military.

Silence.

“Are you sure?” she asked, after a long minute.

“No,” you admitted. “But I think it’s what I’m meant to do.”

She didn’t try to talk you out of it. She just leaned forward and pressed her forehead to yours.

“Then I’ll wait.”

The air was thick with bonfire smoke and the low buzz of future dreams.

She wore your hoodie. You wore her jersey. You both sat on the roof of her car, parked near the lake, legs dangling off the edge of the hood.

“Paige?”

“Yeah?”

“What if we’re different after this?”

She looked up at the stars.

“We will be.”

You turned to her.

She looked right at you.

“But I’ll still know how to find you.”

You didn’t cry. Not then. You just memorized her profile under moonlight and kissed her one more time.

A soft, quiet promise you’d both carry across oceans.

The first goodbye wasn’t really a goodbye. It was an airport hug.

She buried her face in your chest at the airport terminal, fingers fisting the fabric of your shirt like maybe if she held tight enough, you wouldn’t board that plane. You held her just as hard, whispering everything you couldn’t say out loud, “I’ll come back. I’ll be safe. I love you.”

Except you didn’t say that last part. You almost did.

But Paige pulled back first, tears in her eyes but trying to smile. “Text me. Every day. Even if it’s just dumb stuff.”

“Especially the dumb stuff,” you said.

Then they called final boarding.

And you kissed her temple, took one last look, and turned away.

You didn’t look back. Not because you didn’t want to—but because you knew if you did, you might never leave.

Basic training was a blur of sand and shouting. But you wrote her every week.

She didn’t write back at first. She FaceTimed.

“Why are you smiling?” you asked, sweaty and sore and exhausted.

“You look like you lost a fight with a boot camp manual,” she teased, then softened. “I missed your face.”

You missed hers too.

Letters started coming after that—hers were messier, scribbled between film sessions and plane rides. You’d read them under a flashlight, folded up in your bunk, her words the only soft thing in a place built for steel.

We won by 20 tonight. I dropped 34. But I kept looking at the bleachers like an idiot. You weren’t there. I hate that you’re not there.

I’m proud of you. I mean it. But I miss you so bad sometimes I have to put your hoodie on just to breathe.

Please don’t die, okay?

You kept her letters in the inside pocket of your uniform. Right over your heart.

Time moved like molasses and lightning.

She became a national name. Interviews. Awards. Draft projections. ESPN highlights. A household face with a smile everyone wanted a piece of.

But when you spoke on the phone, she was still just Paige. Still the girl who called you “goofball” and asked for updates about your bunkmate’s weird snoring habits. Still the one who asked, softly, “Are you eating enough?” like she was feeding you through the phone.

You sent her a video once—your squad doing push-ups in sync to the beat of one of her game highlight reels. She laughed so hard she cried.

“I’m saving this forever,” she said.

You replied, “Then save a place for me, too.”

She didn’t respond for a full minute.

“Always.”

It was mid-season, year five of your deployment. Things had gone quiet on the basketball front—you knew she was tired, sore, battling injuries. She didn’t want to say it, but you could hear it in her voice.

So you wrote her a long one.

Hey, superstar. Just wanted to say I watched your last game. You looked like you were flying. I know your ankle’s not great, but somehow you still move like you’re being chased by angels.

I think about you all the time. The way you talk when you’re excited, how your hands move when you’re nervous, the way you used to whisper “go get ‘em” before I did anything scary.

Funny how I’m not afraid of anything over here. But sometimes I think about you, and my whole chest hurts. I miss your laugh. I miss home. I miss…

That’s where it ended.

She never got the rest.

The next time Paige tried to call, your number didn’t go through.

Her texts stopped delivering. Your unit’s website stopped posting. Your mom didn’t have answers.

Three weeks passed. Then a month.

Then, the knock on her apartment door.

Your older brother. Pale, shaking.

“They don’t know what happened. Just that the team was separated. And she hasn’t been found.”

Paige didn’t speak. She just crumpled to the floor like her body forgot how to stand.

She read your last letter 103 times. Folded, unfolded. Smoothed out the crease down the middle where the words cut off.

She memorized the final line. The one that haunted her.

“I miss…”

Connecticut never got quieter.

Paige just got better at pretending.

She played through it all—training camp, press conferences, the draft. Cameras followed her like shadows. Her agent told her to smile more. Her coach told her to push harder.

So she did.

But every morning, before she laced up her sneakers, she pressed her fingers to her chest—right where your last letter lived, folded flat in a pouch inside her bag.

She never stopped carrying you.

Even when the world told her she might have to let go.

She was stretching before practice when her phone rang.

Your brother’s name lit up the screen.

“Hello?” she answered, already standing up.

There was a beat of silence on the other end. “There’s been… no contact. Three weeks. They’re calling it missing in action.”

Paige stared at the wall. Her heart didn’t beat. Her breath didn’t come.

“Paige?”

“I—I have to go.”

She hung up.

She walked off the court and into the nearest storage room and shut the door. Curled into herself on a pile of Gatorade crates. She didn’t cry.

She shook.

Then, hours later, she emerged, wiped her eyes, and played the best game of her life that night—32 points, 9 assists, 4 steals.

When asked how she did it, she said, “I was playing for someone.”

Paige never told the media. Never posted. She didn’t want your disappearance to be clickbait. Didn't want strangers speaking your name without knowing what it meant.

Only a few people knew. Her family. Her teammates. Geno. Azzi.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted once, quietly, sitting in a dark gym after practice.

Azzi handed her a bottle of water and sat down next to her.

“You don’t have to know,” Azzi said. “You just have to keep waking up.”

Paige nodded. “I feel like if I stop moving, I’ll fall apart.”

“Then keep moving,” Azzi said, her voice soft. “But don’t pretend she wasn’t everything.”

That was the only time Paige cried in front of someone else.

She started wearing your dog tags during games—tied and tucked into her shoelaces.

The team didn’t ask. No one had to.

Sometimes, before tip-off, she’d whisper something to herself that the cameras couldn’t catch.

“Come back to me.”

“I’m not done loving you.”

“Please.”

She was back in Minnesota for the off-season. Alone in her childhood bedroom. Posters still on the walls. Your sweatshirt still folded in her drawer.

She pulled the shoebox of your letters from under her bed. Set them on the floor.

And she started reading.

All of them.

In order.

She read them through the night, until the sun broke through the window. Until the air felt like you’d touched it.

And when she finally reached the last one—the one that ended with I miss…—she didn’t cry.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Me too.”

The world never knew your name.

Paige made sure of that.

To them, she was just growing up. Evolving. Hardening into the face of a franchise, into someone who could carry a team, a league, an entire sport.

But behind closed doors, her story stayed the same.

She was playing for someone they couldn’t see.

She told herself it would only be a few weeks. A month, maybe.

People go missing in combat. It’s chaos. Misinformation.

She watched every news update with a clenched jaw. She memorized the names of other recovered soldiers and felt sick when yours never came up.

She played harder.

She trained until her joints burned, iced until her skin went numb, shot free throws until her hands bled.

Every drop of sweat said your name.

She didn’t need cameras to catch it—she whispered it at the line.

Every game.

Before the buzzer.

Into her wrist.

Y/N.

Your dog tags became her talisman.

Before every game, she would take them out and kiss them once.

“For luck,” she’d tell her teammates.

But they knew better.

She didn’t pray anymore, not really. But this? This was faith.

Not in God. Not in war.

In you.

That somewhere, somehow, you could feel her playing.

That you were still out there.

It was a sold-out home game. National broadcast. Paige dropped 40 and broke the team record.

Everyone expected her to jump on the scorer’s table, to scream, to celebrate.

Instead, she looked up at the rafters, took the tags from her laces, and held them in both hands.

She mouthed something no one could hear. “That one was for you. Did you see it?”

The internet exploded.

“Who is she holding those for?” “Is it a memorial?” “Did she lose someone?”

She didn’t answer any of it.

Some stories weren’t meant for the public.

Some love deserves silence.

A month later, after a brutal loss and a postgame press conference she barely survived, Paige found herself alone on the bus, forehead pressed to the window, fingers curled around your dog tags like they were her last anchor.

Azzi slid into the seat across from her.

“You ever think about letting her go?” she asked gently.

Paige didn’t move.

“She’s been gone almost two years,” Azzi said. “You haven’t even—”

Paige turned, eyes glassy, voice like shattered glass.

“She’s not gone. You don’t get it. I’d know. If she were… if she really was…”

She broke.

Azzi reached across the seat and held her as the sobs finally tore free. The kind you choke on. The kind that only happens when you’ve waited too long to cry.

Paige gripped the dog tags so hard they left bruises on her palms.

To the fans, she was just Paige.

Focused. Unshakable. Laser-eyed and graceful.

They didn’t know that she woke up every morning and checked her phone for a text that never came.

They didn’t know she kept a post-it by her bed with one word on it, Comeback.

They didn’t know she still wrote your name in her journal every night.

She never said you were gone.

Not even once.

She just kept playing.

For you.

The silence wasn’t just quiet. It was a presence. A second shadow. It followed Paige everywhere.

She stopped listening to voicemails. She couldn’t take the static of it. Couldn’t hear your voice in her memory and not know if she’d ever hear it for real again.

Some people said you disappeared. She hated that word.

You weren’t lost.

You were somewhere.

And silence just meant you weren’t ready to come home yet.

Paige never changed it.

The room you stayed in when you visited—back in Minnesota. The navy-blue blanket. The folded hoodie. The photo of the two of you from junior year after her buzzer-beater—your arm slung over her shoulder, her hair half-falling out of a ponytail, your smile barely hiding how in love you were.

She went in there sometimes. Sat on the edge of the bed and just... stayed.

Sometimes with a letter. Sometimes with a memory.

She’d run her fingers along the edge of the desk and whisper your name under her breath.

Once, her mom found her curled up in the corner, clutching your dog tags like they were a lifeline.

“She’s not dead,” Paige said fiercely, even though no one had said a word. “She’s not gone.”

Eventually, Paige started writing you again.

In a tattered notebook, the kind you'd tease her for hoarding.

April 6th – I dreamt you were sitting court side. You had your boots on the seat in front of you like you always do, and I told you off for it, and you just grinned. I woke up crying. I wish you were there to see me win the championship.

April 14th — I got drafted to the Dallas Wings. I wish you were next to me when they called my name up. You were the first arms I wanted to be in.

May 19th – I told Azzi about the first time you kissed me. I think I needed someone else to remember it with me. Someone else besides me.

June 5th – I’m wearing your sweatshirt again. I can still smell you in it. Is that insane? It’s been years. I don’t care. It’s the only place I sleep anymore.

She filled pages. Dozens.

Each ending the same way…

Come home. Please. Just come home.

She started dodging interviews.

Not because she couldn’t answer the usual questions—WNBA schedules, stats, upcoming matchups.

But because no one ever asked the one she was begging for.

“Who are you still waiting for?” “Whose ghost are you loving?” “What did silence take from you?”

One night, Paige stayed after practice, alone in the gym.

She shot free throws in silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

She missed the fifth.

The sixth clanged off the rim. So did the seventh.

She dropped the ball and sat down, right there at the line, heart pounding like it was trying to remind her she was still alive.

And then she screamed.

A sound torn straight from her lungs—raw and shattering and full of every word she never got to say to you.

It echoed off the walls like it didn’t want to leave her, either.

After that, she went home. Took the notebook. The shoebox of your letters.

She lit a candle. Not to mourn you.

To guide you.

And then she wrote one last entry.

If you're still out there... I’ll be here. I’ll wait forever if I have to. I’ll wait until the world ends. I’ll wait until your voice breaks the quiet. Just give me something. Anything. Please.

She tore the page out, folded it, and tucked it into your last letter.

I miss…

It didn’t come with fanfare.

No parade. No advance warning.

Just a short news segment buried under election coverage and early playoff chatter.

“BREAKING: U.S. soldier previously declared MIA has been found alive after two years. Name: Y/N L/N. Location: undisclosed for recovery and debrief.”

That was it.

No footage. No interview. Just a name.

But for Paige Bueckers, it was the only name that mattered.

She’d just drained a corner three when her phone buzzed on the bench.

DiJonai was the one who saw it first—Paige’s mom had texted.

Mom: Turn on CNN right now. Sit down first.

Paige blinked, confused, wiping sweat from her forehead as she unlocked her phone.

She didn’t get past the first sentence.

The world blurred. The gym fell away. Her knees gave out.

She sank to the floor, phone still in hand, your name burning across the screen.

Nai dropped beside her. “Paige. Paige, what—”

Paige choked on a sob so violent it came from somewhere ancient. Something sacred.

“She's alive,” she whispered.

Over and over.

“She's alive.”

Practice ended early that day.

Not because Paige asked. Because the team knew.

Arike sat with her in the locker room, one arm slung around her shoulder while Paige just kept staring into space, as if blinking might make it vanish.

“She’s alive.”

“They found her.”

“She’s really alive.”

And then the silence broke, and the sobs came, and the entire locker room sat with her until her breathing steadied.

Not one person filmed. Not one word leaked.

Some moments deserved to live only in memory.

You trended within the hour.

Your name. Your story. Your face—blurred in old photos, smiling in uniform, standing next to fellow soldiers.

The world wanted to know everything.

Where you were. What happened. How you survived.

But you weren’t ready.

So the military gave you privacy. Gave you time.

You stayed in an undisclosed hospital somewhere quiet, limbs sore, mind fractured but still yours. Alive. You were alive.

But you didn’t want the cameras.

You only wanted her.

Paige didn't know if you'd get it.

Didn't know if they'd even let you see it.

But she sent it anyway.

A photo. The last one you ever took together—her in your lap on her porch swing, eyes closed, smiling.

Below it, just one sentence, “If you’re ready… I never stopped waiting.”

You were given a secure phone.

You unlocked it the second you were allowed.

There were hundreds of missed calls. Dozens of texts. Messages from family, friends, teammates.

But it was hers your eyes searched for.

You opened the photo. Stared at it for five minutes without blinking.

And then you called.

“Hi,” you said. Voice soft, hoarse, barely yourself.

There was a sharp inhale on the other end. Then silence.

“Come home.”

You agreed to it on one condition.

“She can’t know.”

The league had reached out. The team. Even the commissioner.

There were plans, whispers of tributes, military salutes, halftime ceremonies—but you only cared about one thing.

You wanted to surprise her.

You wanted the first time she saw you to feel like it stopped time.

Like no one else existed.

Just her.

Just you.

The game was nationally televised. Her team had home court. Fans were packed into the arena an hour before tip-off, buzzing with playoff energy.

And somewhere backstage, behind security lines and curtained tunnels—you waited.

Fidgeting with the cuffs of your formal uniform, your knees bouncing.

“You nervous?” a Dallas Wings rep asked you.

You didn’t answer.

Because nervous wasn’t the word.

You were holding years in your chest—letters left unfinished, nights unlived, a promise that somehow never broke even when everything else did.

You were about to see her again.

After everything.

She didn’t know.

Not at tip-off.

Not in the first quarter, when she scored ten points with her usual quiet brilliance.

Not during halftime, when she rehydrated on the bench, laughing at something NaLyssa said, her hands still steady, her heart still wrapped in that ache she never gave a name.

She didn’t know.

But she was wearing your dog tags again.

Still tied to her laces.

Like a thread connecting her to something she thought might’ve been a ghost.

End of the fourth quarter.

Something different was happening.

The arena darkened. The jumbotron flickered.

She wiped her face with a towel, confused, glancing around as the crowd fell into a low, electric hush.

The screen began to play.

Images of soldiers.

Of sacrifice.

Of silence.

“Tonight, we honor one of our own…”

She blinked.

Froze.

A childhood photo of you flashed on the screen. Then one of you in uniform. Then another—your face older, weathered, still unmistakably you.

“…who returned home after being declared missing in action for two years.”

Her towel dropped.

So did her hands.

Then came your name.

Loud.

Proud.

Spoken over the speaker system with reverence and awe.

“Please welcome home… Staff Sergeant Y/N L/N.”

From the tunnel. From the shadows.

Into the floodlights.

Your boots hitting the court like thunder. Your breath shaking.

You could barely hear the crowd over your own heartbeat. The sound was deafening—cheers, gasps, cries—but all of it blurred behind the only thing that mattered.

Her.

Paige.

Standing at center court.

Frozen. Mouth open. Eyes wide.

Her whole body trembling.

You saw the exact second her knees gave.

Arike caught her by the elbow, whispering something, but Paige was already moving.

Running.

Not walking.

Running.

Straight at you.

You barely had time to brace before she slammed into your chest—arms around your neck, tears already wetting your collar, her whole body folded into yours like a prayer finally answered.

“You’re here,” she sobbed. “You’re real. You’re—oh my god—”

You held her.

Tighter than ever before.

And whispered back, “I told you I’d come home.”

She pulled back only enough to touch your face.

To study every scar. Every line. Every part of you changed, and unchanged.

“You look like hell,” she whispered.

“You look like heaven,” you whispered back.

And then, in front of thousands—millions watching from home—

She kissed you.

The kind of kiss people write books about. The kind that rewrites history.

You could feel her whole soul in it.

Years of silence. Years of hope. Years of waiting.

All pouring out of her like she never expected to get this chance again.

Neither did you.

Phones were everywhere. The broadcast replayed it in slow motion.

Social media exploded.

“Paige Bueckers reunited with MIA childhood sweetheart—LIVE mid-game.” “She never moved on. And now she doesn’t have to.” “This… is the love story of the decade.”

But none of it mattered.

Because the only headline that lived in your bones was this.

You made it back to her.

The cheers still echoed through the arena.

Your name was still trending. Clips of the kiss were already viral. Your story was being dissected, romanticized, turned into legend by every major outlet.

But you weren’t listening.

Because Paige had your hand in hers, dragging you down a hallway with her heartbeat in her throat and your pulse pressed against her palm.

Not speaking.

Not yet.

Just walking fast.

Until she found a door. Pushed it open. Pulled you through.

And shut the world out.

It was empty.

The overhead lights buzzed faintly. The bench where she usually laced up her shoes sat undisturbed, a towel draped neatly over the backrest. Her jersey still hung in the open cubby, sweat-soaked and clinging to its shape like it knew it had just lived through something historic.

You stood near the wall, unsure if you should sit or speak or breathe.

Until she turned.

Slowly.

Eyes full of everything she'd held back for two years.

She walked straight into you again. But this time, it wasn’t frantic. Or desperate. Or breaking. It was slow. Crushed. Sacred. Her arms slid around your middle. Her head tucked under your chin. And she just… held you.

You stood there in silence, letting her remember what your body felt like. Letting yourself remember how she fit against you like muscle to bone.

“I thought you were dead,” she whispered.

“I was, a little,” you murmured. “Until I remembered I had to find my way back to you.”

She let out a soft sound. A sob half-swallowed by a laugh.

“You’re such a cheeseball.”

“Still worked,” you said.

“Still works.”

Just enough to look at you.

Her hands cupped your face. Her thumbs brushed under your eyes like she couldn’t believe they were still yours.

“What happened?” she asked softly. “You don’t have to tell me everything. I just—”

“It was bad,” you said. “But not enough to make me forget you.”

That did it.

The tears came back.

She sat down on the bench, pulling you with her, your knee brushing hers as you both leaned into the impossible miracle of this moment.

“I kept your letters,” she whispered. “Read them every night. Wrote you some too.”

“I know,” you said.

She looked up, startled. “You read them?”

You nodded.

“They gave them to me once I was stabilized. Your mom saved them all.”

“All of them?”

“Even the one where you threatened to fight God if he didn’t bring me back.”

“Okay,” she muttered, cheeks flushing. “That one was private.”

You smiled. “You’ll have to do better than that if you want me to forget it.”

“I don’t want you to forget anything,” she said, suddenly serious. “Not a single thing. Even the bad parts. Even the waiting. I just—” Her voice cracked. “I just want you here. For real. To stay.”

You reached for her hand.

Interlocked fingers. One heartbeat.

“I’m here.”

“To stay?”

“If you’ll have me.”

She didn’t answer with words.

She answered by climbing into your lap, wrapping herself around you like she was claiming her missing piece, forehead to yours, lips brushing yours.

“Always.”

You sat together for over an hour. Just talking.

Catching up on nothing and everything. Teammates. Therapy. Her favorite shows. Your favorite food again. How your body still flinched when you heard loud noises. How her nights were filled with dreams of you showing up, just like tonight.

“I always imagined this,” she whispered. “You walking onto the court. Everyone gasping. Me running to you.”

“You looked so good I almost forgot how to walk.”

“You looked like my whole life coming back to me.”

“You are my life.”

She closed her eyes.

You kissed her forehead.

And she didn’t move for a long, long time.

The house you live in now isn’t big.

Paige didn’t want a mansion. You didn’t want a city. You picked a quiet neighborhood outside Dallas, far enough to hear birds instead of traffic. Close enough that her commute to practice isn’t a headache.

There’s a front porch with a swing you built by hand. A tiny backyard garden she insists on overwatering. A fridge full of sticky notes and protein shakes and letters you leave for each other just because.

The walls are painted in warm colors.

The rooms are full of soft things.

The whole place smells like clean laundry and cinnamon candles and home.

You wake up before her.

You always have.

The dog—Bentley, a rescue with floppy ears and too much energy—sleeps curled at the foot of the bed. Paige sleeps tangled in you.

Most mornings she doesn’t speak right away. She just buries her face in your neck and breathes.

“Still here?” she whispers, like she’s checking.

“Still here,” you answer every time.

You kiss her temple. She kisses your scar. It’s a ritual now.

Neither of you say I missed you anymore.

It’s in every touch. Every sigh. Every morning.

You coach youth basketball on the weekends. Paige comes when she can, sunglasses low, hoodie up, cheering louder than any parent.

Once, one of the kids asked if you were married.

You glanced at her across the court and said, “Not yet.”

Paige smiled like she already had the ring.

One Sunday, while cleaning the hall closet, you find it.

Folded between two shoeboxes of old photos and game-day programs.

The letter you never saw.

The one Paige wrote you during the two years you were gone but never sent.

You sit on the floor and unfold it carefully. The ink is smudged. The paper smells like her perfume and heartbreak.

Y/N,

If you ever get this, it means I found a way to speak even when you're not here to hear it.

I don’t know where you are, or if you're breathing, or if you're laughing somewhere with someone who isn’t me. But I hope you’re not in pain. I hope you know that I would’ve waited a hundred years. I still would. I just want you safe. I want you whole.

I want you to come back and walk through my door and kiss me like the world didn’t win.

But even if you don’t, I’ll still be yours.

Love always,

Paige

You sit there for a long time.

Then you find her in the kitchen, lift her onto the counter, and kiss her until she forgets how to stand.

“You did wait,” you whisper.

“You were worth it,” she answers.

It’s the anniversary of your return.

The Wings are playing a home game. You’re in the stands—front row. Paige scans for you before warmups and grins when she finds you.

She taps her chest twice, over her heart.

You do the same.

Still here.

There are fingerprints on every surface of the house.

Sticky juice cups. Crayon murals on the hallway walls. A glitter-covered soccer cleat on the kitchen table.

You used to live for silence.

Now you live for this chaos.

For the soft pitter-patter of feet running down the hall. For squeals of laughter at bath time. For the way your daughter yells, “Watch me, Mama!” every time she throws a ball six inches off the ground.

She’s five. Bright-eyed. Fearless.

Her name is Hope.

Because that’s what she gave you when she was born.

You sit on the couch with Hope in your lap while Paige makes breakfast—messy ponytail, sleepy smile, her old college hoodie falling off her shoulder.

Bentley is older now. Greyer. Still insists on sleeping under the kitchen table.

“I want braids today,” Hope declares, handing you a brush and three elastics.

“Again?” you tease. “You know I only learned how to do those for your mom, right?”

“Then you should be really good at it.”

She’s got her mother’s sass.

You pretend to groan. Paige laughs into her coffee.

“That’s my girl.”

You both retired within two years of each other—Paige with two MVPs, three championships, a career that left the sport different than when she entered it.

You left the military after receiving an award they told you couldn’t be disclosed publicly. But that wasn’t the legacy that mattered to you.

The real one lives in your home.

In the stories you tell Hope about bravery that doesn't always wear medals, about love that outlasts war.

“Did Mama really wait for you for two whole years?” she asks one night while you’re tucking her in.

You nod, heart aching at the memory, now soft around the edges.

“She never let go of me. Even when the world tried to make her.”

Hope stares at you like you’re a myth.

“I want to be brave like Mama one day.”

“Me too,” you say quietly.

That weekend, you all go to a Wings game.

Paige is honored at halftime—her jersey raised to the rafters. The crowd stands for five full minutes.

Hope clutches your hand, eyes wide.

When they call your name too—“for a life of service, for love that defied silence”—you freeze.

Paige squeezes your hand.

“This is your legacy too,” she says.

You step onto the court, Hope between you.

And together, as a family, you stand beneath the jersey that once carried her name alone.

Now it carries all of yours.

That night, Paige posts a photo.

It’s simple.

You, Paige, and Hope in front of the banner. Her arm around your waist. Hope on your hip. Everyone smiling like nothing ever broke.

Some love stories survive silence. Ours learned how to sing through it.

The comments flood in.

“You were always endgame.” “Their daughter is the living proof that love always comes home.” “Crying in a CVS right now, thanks.” “Brb telling my future wife I’d wait for her forever too.”

But none of that matters.

Because later that night, as you lie in bed with Paige curled into your chest, her fingers tracing slow circles over your wedding ring, she whispers, “We made it.”

And you whisper back, “We made forever.”

Dear Paige,

I don’t know when you’ll find this.

Maybe Hope’s off at college. Maybe you’re coming home from a coaching session, your hair pulled back the way you used to wear it when you were 17 and still trying to convince me to play H-O-R-S-E for kisses.

Maybe I’m upstairs taking a nap and you just needed to hold something that felt like us again.

Either way, if you’re reading this… hi, baby.

I’ve been meaning to write this for a while now. Not because anything’s wrong—but because love like this deserves to be documented. Carved into the page. Tucked between grocery lists and bedtime stories and all the normal things that never felt so beautiful until they were ours.

I want you to know something.

You saved me.

Not just the first time, when you waited for me. But every time after.

Every time you looked at me like I was still whole.

Every time you made pancakes in the shape of hearts and called them “accidents” even though we both knew better.

Every time you reached for me in the dark and didn’t flinch when I told you I was afraid.

You never ran.

Even when it would've been easier.

You stayed.

You loved.

And because of that, I learned how to breathe again. How to live. How to dream past the damage.

I used to think I came back for you.

But now I know the truth.

I came back because of you.

Because something in your love refused to let go of me—stretched across time and silence and ocean, stubborn and radiant, like it always knew we'd find our way back.

And we did.

We found forever.

I don’t need fairy tales. I just need you. Bent knee and tired laugh and soft hands in mine.

So when you find this letter—when you reread these words years from now—I hope you remember that there was never a moment I stopped choosing you.

Not once.

Not even when the world tried to pull us apart.

Not even when I disappeared.

I still found my way to you.

Because home was never a place.

It was always your heartbeat.

Still yours.

Forever,

Y/N

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #paige buckets #paige x reader #paige bueckers fanfic #uconn women’s basketball #uconn wbb #lesbian #wlw #wuh luh wuh #dallas wings #wnba x reader

619 notes · View notes

norrisainz33 · 1 year ago

Text

Summer to Remember | MV33

☆ summary: in which Max surprises you during summer break 💍

☆ pairing: max verstappen x reader

☆ fc: none, pics from pinterest

☆ warnings: ever so slightly suggestive. you are responsible for the content you consume.

୨୧┈୨୧

yourusername made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, landonorris, redbullracing and 204,375 others

yourusername: strong first half of the season for my maxie! now its time to relax 🫶🏻🌊☀️

view all 433 comments

user1: if you guys need another cat i can meow

user2: how he bagged such a baddie will always be beyond me

maxverstappen1: beach baby

yourusername: 🏝️🌊☀️

redbullracing: going to miss you for a couple weeks y/n!

yourusername: i’ll miss you too admin but dw ill dm you updates

redbullracing: 🫶🏻 my queen

user2: even the rbr admin is obsessed with her and honestly i get it

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

danielricciardo: STAY CALM EVERYBODY STAY CALM YOU KNOW THE PROCEDURE

maxverstappen1: at least one of us is staying calm

danielricciardo: i’m so excited i could explode

landonorris: LETS GOOOOOOOOO

charlesleclerc: alex and i expect a call with updates directly after

maxverstappen1: don’t worry, i’m sure she’ll call alex before i’ve even finished asking her

martingarrix: ohhh it’s finally happening 🥹

yourusername made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, alexandrasaintmleux, iamrebeccad, alex_albon, and 486,780 others

yourusername: i don’t think im ever going to leave this place 😫

view all 546 comments

oscarpiastri: lily will miss you too much if you don’t come home

yourusername: you make a good point

maxverstappen1: you don’t have to leave, i told you we could get a condo here

yourusername: ok mr solves all my problems

user3: making my partner take notes

user4: nah bc wtf where’s my man who just offers to buy me a second house

user5: i’m sleeping on the highway

bestie: if you need company i’d happily visit 😉

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

landonorris: the suspense is killing me can’t you do it right now

maxverstappen1: patience lando!

danielricciardo: i have a countdown set on my phone. 23 hours, 6 minutes and 23 seconds left!

maxverstappen1: danny 😂

schecoperez: so excited for you mi amigo

maxverstappen1: 💙

maxverstappen1 added to his private story

view story replies

danielricciardo: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

alexandrasaintmleux: she looks so beautiful in white 🤍

charlesleclerc: good luck mate

landonorris: facetime me in rn

oscarpiastri: lily and i are sending our best 🧡

georgerussell63: go get that girl 💙

maxverstappen1 made a post

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 1,344,234 others

maxverstappen1: she said yes! y/n thank you for completing me, supporting me and loving me. i don’t think i ever truly knew what love was until you came along. i can’t wait to make you my wife 🤍

view all 5,675 comments

user12: who is cutting onions

user14: not me sobbing over an instragram post

schecoperez: unbelievably happy for you both

landonorris: successfully did not spill the beans!

maxverstappen1: i know that was hard for you. thanks for keeping the secret and for helping me plan 😉

yourusername: i’ll always be your biggest fan. i love you to the moon and back my fiancé 💙

maxverstappen1: fiancé has a nice ring to it

danielricciardo: i love you both so much this is everything and more

yourusername: we love you more danny

danielricciardo: NOT POSSIBLE

maxverstappen1: couldn’t have done it without you mate

charlesleclerc: leo has agreed to be the ring bearer 💍

yourusername: that is the best news

user17: LEO IN THE WEDDNG?! STOPPPP

user18: this is going to be the wedding of the century

user19: seeing max happy makes me so happy

yourusername has made a post

liked by maxverstappen1, bestie, alexandrasaintmleux, redbullracing, and 454,789 others

yourusername: I AM GOING TO BE A WIFE!! the easiest yes i’ve ever said! I can’t even begin to explain how much i love you max, these past few years with you have been nothing short of a dream come true. i can’t wait to be your mrs. verstappen 🤍

view all 1,222 comments

user22: i just fell to my knees in this walmart parking lot

maxverstappen1: i’ll love you to the end of time mrs. verstappen

yourusername: promise?

maxverstappen1: promise

georgerussell63: finally!!

charlesleclerc: i am so happy for you both - congratulations 💙

user16: this is my version of the royal wedding

alexandrasaintmleux: you are going to make the most beautiful bride 🫶🏻

yourusername: and you’re going to make the most beautiful maid of honor 🤍

user33: so true love does exist huh

redbullracing: is it too early to talk about making the next world champion

user24: AINT NO WAY LMFAO

user23: admin said get to work

୨୧┈୨୧

☆ a/n: hope you enjoyed!! likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

୨୧┈୨୧

2K notes · View notes

fastandcarlos · 1 year ago

Text

The Littlest Surprise » Daniel Ricciardo

caption: hello im a new f1 content creator and would love some feedback if you enjoy my fics tysm 🩷

summary: you’ve not been seen at the paddock for a while and the fans are getting worried, little do they know the reason for your absence is about to make everyone’s dreams come true

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by schecoperez, georgerussell63 and 842,420 others

danielricciardo: always a pleasure to have the fam on my side, excited to show the little ones what uncle danny gets up to 🥺

49,302 comments

username1: is this yet another race y/n won’t be at this weekend??

username2: I cannot wait for the day that this man becomes a dad

username3: if y/n doesn’t hurry up and make him a dad…daniel i’m happy to offer my services 😊

maxverstappen1: how big is y/n/n now! she looks so grown up 🥺

danielricciardo: @/maxverstappen1 she’ll be 6 soon, where does the time go??

oscarpiastri: don’t forget your little adopted aussie nephew

landonorris: and your british nephew too!!

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri @/landonorris hey! i might be a bit older but not old enough to be your uncle thank you

username4: anyone else think something might be going on, daniel posting about his family without y/n there is strange

username5: @/username4 let’s not overthink this too much, y/n might just be busy

username4: @/username5 it’s been ages since we last saw her, you gotta admit it’s a bit sus

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and 629,301 others

danielricciardo: another great weekend of racing, nice feeling to be back on the podium…man how I missed hearing that champagne pop 🏎️

38,402 comments

charles_leclerc: congrats brother, nice to be up there with you once again

username6: y/n not distracting you anymore to stop you getting on the podium??

username7: @/username6 wtf? why would you suggest such a thing?

carlossainz55: always knew you’d be back up there one day, long may it continue!

yukitsunoda0511: you gotta give me some tips bro, those manoeuvres were lethal today 🔥

pierregasly: danny ric just doing danny ric things

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, charles_leclerc and 922,547 others

danielricciardo: hey team! just wanted to clear up some things after miami this weekend…me and y/n are absolutely fine, had some things going on that I promise we’ll explain soon ❤️❤️ for now tho, here’s an update on life recently ☁️✨

92,174 comments

ynusername: 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username8: I knew you guys would be okay, take as long as you need my two favourites!!

username9: a big screw you to those who doubted you…real fans love you guys

landonorris: I love you guys, here if you need anything brother ❤️

username10: hope whatever is going on clears up soon, we’re missing you guys around here🩷

lilymhe: tell y/n to gimme a call! ily guys ✨

visacashapprb: can’t wait to welcome y/n back into the paddock soon - see you for race week!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, iamrebeccad and 310,409 others

ynusername: it’s been a long few months, but we finally feel ready to share with you our happy news. pregnancy has been tough, I’d love to say it has treated me well, but it hasn’t. I cannot thank daniel enough for being by my side and helping me out whenever I’ve needed him…baby spam incoming ⛅️🍼

ps. each of us chose a picture to share, guess who chose what 🙄

28,461 comments

danielricciardo: words cannot begin to describe how proud I am of how brave you’ve been, the worst of it is over now my love, the countdown to baby ricciardo starts now

danielricciardo: ps my photo is way cooler than yours is

landonorris: omg I can’t believe you guys didn’t tell me, uncle Lando reporting for duty!

carlossainz55: the biggest congratulations you two, you’re going to be the best parents

carmenmmundt: so glad to hear y/n is doing better, may the rest of your pregnancy be a dream ✨

lilymhe: the strongest girl I know - so excited to see you become a mum 😍

username11: all my manifesting has paid off, baby ricciardo will be the luckiest

oscarpiastri: AUSSIE AUSSIE AUSSIE!!

estebanocon: my spidey senses were spot on, I knew a baby was on the way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by danielricciardo, lance_stroll and 102,585 others

ynusername: life lately 💫 exhausted but loving all the little things (including daniel 😂)

17,492 comments

username12: y/n looks like she’s living the dream, mum life suits her well 🥺

danielricciardo: im definitely not a “little thing” how else did we end up like this?

landonorris: @/danielricciardo excuse me sir you are about to have a child, sort your humour out

maxverstappen1: glad to see you’re feeling more like yourself again y/n, brunch on me soon!

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 yes - let’s not tell daniel #gatecrasher

danielricciardo: @/ynusername you know your comments are public…right?

username13: anyone else wishing they could brunch with y/n too??

lance_stroll: sending all the good book recs your way!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 738,603 others

danielricciardo: babymooning 🍼 the smile says it all, so happy to have my girl back on her feet and feeling like herself again…making the last few memories just the two of us 🥺

83,500 comments

ynusername: thank you for the best couple of days and being my personal taxi driver

username14: look at his face - you can tell daniel is buzzing to be a dad

pierregasly: where was my invite?? I thought we were friends

carlossainz55: and mine!

georgerussell63: me too!

landonorris: looks like we were all forgotten!

visacashapprb: enjoy the break daniel! you and y/n absolutely deserve it 🏁🩷

username15: i speak for all your fans when i say keep the holiday photos coming pls

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, georgerussell63 and 920,355 others

danielricciardo: mum and dad 🔥🥺

tagged: ynusername

58,429 comments

landonorris: adopt me pls, im less problematic than a baby

danielricciardo: @/landonorris debatable

lewishamilton: so glad to see you both so happy, good luck with everything

charles_leclerc: wow!! y/n looks insane (suppose you look alright too daniel!)

ynusername: mum and dad?? i can definitely get used to hearing that 🤩

alex_albon: it’s not fair how adorable you two are, this kid is hella lucky!!

username16: pls keep the baby spam coming, you guys are the sweetest 🍼💫

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by lilymhe, yukitsunoda0511 and 109,446 others

ynusername: the many faces of a man who has just remembered he’s just signed up for no sleep for the next 10 years 😂

tagged: danielricciardo

23,201 comments

danielricciardo: after all I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? you just wait my love 🫢

ynusername: @/danielricciardo this was too good of an opportunity to miss

carlossainz55: make the most of that middle photo whilst you can danny

georgerussell63: you have NO idea how much I just laughed at this y/n 😂😂😂

schecoperez: speaking from experience, you could not be more correct y/n #dannynosleep

username17: embarrassing dad before even becoming a dad 😬

oscarpiastri: call me for anymore embarrassing daniel pics 😂

danielricciardo: @/oscarpiastri no one asked for you to show up here

username18: I just want you to be my mum and dad instead 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by oscarpiastri, carmenmmundt and 113,999 others

ynusername: can you believe this man is really about to become a father?? 🤦🏻‍♀️

32,694 comments

charles_leclerc: sometimes i really do wonder what you see in him y/n

landonorris: the biggest clown known to man, still the world’s biggest kid 😂😂

danielricciardo: is that really how you want to talk about the father of your child? I thought you were supposed to love me

ynusername: @/danielricciardo i do, ily very much 🥰

username17: not y/n releasing all the humiliating photos of daniel now they’re about to be parents

username18: y/n’s clearing the phone album for baby spam and giving us daniel spam in return

logansargeant: more to the point, this is the guy you chose as the father of your child??

lilymhe: the two of you are perfect for each other y/n ❤️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

liked by ynusername, oscarpiastri and 1,403,407 others

danielricciardo: welcome to the world baby ricciardo 💕

after a lot of hardships and tricky times, y/n and i are beyond excited to share with you that our little one is here. everyone is safe, loved and doing well, my heart has never felt so full 🥺

tagged: ynusername

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

#f1 #f1 imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 reaction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 smau #formula 1 x you #formula 1 social media #formula 1 imagine #formula one #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader

2K notes · View notes

guangshi-091305 · 6 months ago

Text

Final trailer, release poster and countdown poster are up!

We also have new information from the conference:

- Yingdu Arc will only be 6 episodes, first airs on 27 December, 2024.

- Season 3 will have at least 24 episodes.

- Since Season 3 will be longer so release may be delayed. Director Li asks the fans to be patient. Fans estimate the wait for s3 to be around 3-4 years.

#时光代理人 #link click #linkclick #shiguang daili ren #shiguangdailiren #sgdlr #yingdu arc #yingdu chapter #yingdu arc updates #bridon arc #英都篇 #Bilibili conference #Li Haolin #Link Click updates

583 notes · View notes

gguk-n · 7 months ago

Text

Fate Accelerates (Lewis Hamilton x Reader)

Summary- In a world where soulmates exist. Some people have a countdown on their wrist, counting down to the time they will meet their soulmate. Lewis is so shocked when the time suddenly decreases after his career changing decision.

Ferrari wanted to sign Lewis Hamilton for a while. And the moment he gave them the time of his day; they were able to convince Lewis to leave Mercedes after so many years and so many championships. Lewis had thought long and hard before he signed the contract, he had always wanted to drive in red, that was a dream come true for any driver and he was just going to move towards another one of his dreams.

Lewis grew up with a timer on his wrist. He had asked why he had one and his mum told him it to tell him when he would meet his soulmate. The timer would fluctuate over the years from spanning to decades to couple years. Whenever he would get excited about meeting his soulmate the timer would suddenly increase. Before he had signed the contract, the countdown on his wrist read a couple more years. Lewis had stopped caring at that point, he wasn't sure he would ever meet his soulmate and if he did, that would be pretty neat he thought but even if he didn't, it didn't really matter, not now anyways.

It was a few days after he had signed the contract when he noticed the timer on his wrist. It made him do a double take; it had been years since the timer had been down to almost a year but Lewis did not get his hopes up. He would've liked to but all these years of waiting had made him not so forgiving.

As the season began and time passed, the countdown to meeting his soulmate had begun. He watched at the days ticked by. Lewis felt himself getting giddy when the timer was almost 6 months. It had never happened. He had never been this close to seeing his soulmate, ever. He would sit and talk to Roscoe about meeting his mum soon and how excited he felt. He felt 15 again, the first time the timer had gotten close to around 10 months but then suddenly jumped up. Lewis found himself waiting; as he calculated the time; it coincided with his first day at Ferrari. He felt reassured to have made this decision.

Y/N was a PR manager in one of the biggest companies in Italy. Her knowledge in law and journalism gave her the edge her colleagues lacked. She had moved to Italy when she was in high school due to her father's work and stayed ever since. She was happy with her job and the place she worked at until she was scouted.

Ferrari scouted her; they wanted her as the PR manager for Lewis Hamilton. You would've been an idiot to not have heard of Lewis Hamilton. She was skeptical of leaving her comfortable job behind but the team was relentless in pursuing her. They wanted some one as good as Lewis to handle all of his PR stuff and in their eyes Y/N was the queen of PR management. After many discussion and long drawn out meeting, Y/N agreed to join Ferrari.

Y/N had a timer on her wrist, just like Lewis and it would countdown to when she would meet her soulmate. What shocked her was the fact that her countdown had suddenly decreased and she couldn't be more confused. She had given up trying to find her soulmate since the timer fucked with her so much growing up, that she forgot it even existed.

As the time grew closer to the end of the season, the timer on their wrist had also started blinking. Lewis and Y/N watched as the year turned into months and months into days. The pair allowed themselves to be excited over the prospect of actually finally meeting their soulmate.

It was Lewis's first day at Ferrari. He was nervous and excited at the same time. His childhood dream was coming true and the timer on his wrist was in minutes, something that had never happened. He sped to Maranello; what if his soulmate is a race engineer? So many thoughts were swirling through his head. He tried to remain calm and not lose his composure.

Y/N had put a little more effort in getting ready when she saw her timer read only 2 more hours. She almost burnt her shirt and her hand while ironing it out and almost crashed her car on the way to her first day of work. She wasn't sure what to expect but the minutes ticking away didn't help either. She was sat in a room waiting for her new client, Lewis Hamilton with a bounce in her leg wanting to leave soon to find her soulmate.

Lewis strode into the building, being dragged around to show the place off. He lost track of the timer on his hand and before he knew it he was being ushered into a room. As he opened the door, he felt a burning sensation on his wrist and when he looked down the timer was gone. There was a woman sat on the chair staring at her wrist rubbing the place where the timer sat vigourously.

Lewis slowly walked up to her, making her look up. They looked at each other and it was as if they knew. "You're" she began only to be lost for words. "That's Y/N Y/L/N, she'll be your PR manager" Fred interrupted. Lewis smiled, raising his hand to shake. When their hands finally met, it was like electricity flowing through them. "Lewis Hamilton" he stated. She didn't let the hand go. "My soulmate" she mumbled. "The one and only" Lewis replied. "I've waited so long for this" she muttered with tears in her eyes. Lewis raised his other hand, not letting go of her hand yet and slowly wiped the tears pooling in her eyes. "Me too" Lewis reassured. "Joining Ferrari was the best decision I made" the two said in unison before bursting into a fit of laughter leaving Fred very confused.

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saphig-iawn · 6 months ago

Text

New Year, New You

CW: non-con transformation

Despite the roiling buzz of the party you always seemed to be gazing over to her just as she turned her eyes to you. It felt like coincidence at first, like making multiple moments of eye contact with a stranger while waiting for something in a public place.

This moment, however, felt different. The moment your eyes met hers, you seemed to notice how the colours of her irises were a little more vivid. Your cheeks involuntarily blushed. You look away blinking quickly, as if to shake yourself free of a stupor and you made a bit of clumsy entrance into some festivities to distract yourself.

But no matter what you did, there was this... presence that wouldn't leave you. It felt like the room was shrinking with each passing moment, like the people at the party were just elaborate cutouts.

Prey stuck in the eyes of a predator.

Hiding among the long grass that was the buffet, you felt you were safe. A timid glass of punch in hand, you turned without looking and collided with someone.

The sting of embarrassment became a weight in your stomach as you clamour to apologise, and when you finally looked up, you saw her.

Everything went cold.

You couldn't help stare at the wet patch you had made on the bodice of her green satin dress.

Oh god you're just looking at her boobs now, what are you doing?! You panicked and began to pat her chest with a paper towel and- oh god now you're patting her breasts! Whatiswrongwithyouyou'remakingitworse-

You see her hand gently curl around your wrist.

You look up.

She simply hushes you.

Her eyes feel like they're looking into you, like their gaze is reaching through your eyes and into the you in your mind.

The panic ablates. The tremors calm.

"It was a little accident, don't worry darling", she croons.

Your mind tries to recount the accident, worsening it with each recollection, stuck in a bad recursive loop, but it all seems to slow. The longer you stare into her eyes, the easier it gets to just let that anxiety go.

"You've been quite the wallflower tonight, haven't you darling?" she continues.

The room begins to turn slowly, almost like its revolving around you. You wonder if the punch is hitting you, you remember how a 'friend' said they were going to spike it, but then your body begins to sway, almost rhythmically.

"You ok there, darling? Anyone in there?" she teases.

You shake your head and blink and realise that you were actually being walked away from the buffet by the woman in the green dress, not that something unwanted was getting into your bloodstream.

There's a strange feeling of.. disconnection? Delay? Like you thought you were still being walked when suddenly the plush softness of couch cushions rise up to meet your behind.

You felt like a marionette being guided; your body unresponsive but weightless. There was a bewilderedness stopping words from leaving your lips.

"You poor thing, you look quite ready to be done with this year, don't you?"

Those words felt like a warm hand cradling your cheek. A sigh involuntarily wisps from your lips.

"Oh I know darling, it won't be long. New Year, new you, and all that-" she smiled. God it was such a warm smile. "you've said that to yourself a lot haven't you, darling?"

A little weight manifests in your stomach. Misplaced guilt at the expectations of making New Year's resolutions. You never really subscribed to them, but the pressure from everyone else making them felt like it was a thing you had to do.

"I know that feeling too darling, perhaps we could welcome in this New Year with something a little better, hmm?"

She held your hand in hers, at the strike of people beginning to countdown.

10!

She takes your other hand.

You sink into her eyes

She smiles with a deep warmth.

You feel you can't look away.

Her gaze pierces deeper

You can't look away.

Her warmth spreads into you.

You can't move.

You can't tell where her warmth ends and yours begins.

She gives you a single wicked wink.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

You feel her pull at your hand. The room cartwheels around you. Your head prepares for the dizziness but its strangely absent. You crash into the warmth of her embrace and are unable to pull yourself away. It feels like the moment you crash onto your bed after a long shift.

Your vision remains stuck at the middle distance, her green satin shoulder almost filling half of it.

You hear a different voice come from behind you.

"Awww, is someone a bit too drunk, huh?", the voice teased.

"Yes, the poor thing, barely able to move. I'm going to call a ride." the woman in green responded.

With little effort she lifts you up off the couch and drapes your arm over her shoulders, and moves towards the exit.

The cheering dies down to a low distant rumble. The sound of the woman's shoes echo slightly. The corridor you were being lead down stops beneath your dragged feet.

You feel a warmth blossom under your jaw as your vision swings to face a mirror.

"There we are darling, a New Year, a new you!" the woman chuckled.

Your eyes can't help but drink in your reflection, mainly because they can't do much else, not even look around.

You saw you, but your clothes seemed to hang a little looser, like something changed underneath. The woman's hand cradling your jaw gently moves your head.

'I'm... a... doll...?' your mind attempts to think. The thought is excruciatingly slow. Like a single droplet of water dangling beneath a faucet.

"You don't have to worry about much any more, now. I'll take good care of you darling."

You feel her press her cheek against yours, her reflection just entering your peripheral vision.

"You're going to look so good in my collection..." she trails off as she continues to take you down the corridor to goodness knows where.

As the pattern of the carpet rolls across your vision like scan lines on an old television, your mind can't help but ponder over that word...

'Coll... ec... tion...?'

(If you would like to see more fiction writing like this, then please support me over at https://ko-fi.com/saphig, where you can also commission 1-on-1 hypnosis sessions and your own kinky short story just like this!)

#saphiposting #hypnodomme #hypnok1nk #hypnotic #trance #brainwash #brainwashing #hypnosis #mind control #erotichypnosis #doll tf #dollification #inanimate tf #inanimate transformation #saphi writes

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mmeskywalker · 1 year ago

Text

|| new years and blooming hearts

summary: you’re in pansy’s dorm getting ready to go to the slytherin new year’s eve party. only, you’re a hufflepuff… you arrive to the party and the tension between you and THEODORE NOTT is palpable; so palpable in fact that matteo and enzo decide to help a brother out (by making theodore so insanely jealous that he arrived to his breaking point.) through breathless laughter, cold stares and tough crowds, you find yourself by theo, oddly enough during the countdown til midnight.

word count: 6.6k+

a/n: this is lowercase intended. i just wanted to write about theodore nott/lorenzo zurzolo because he has me in a chokehold. also, i read a fic with a similar concept to this but i can’t find it. if anyone knows which fic i’m referring to, please tag the creator in the comments.

- please imagine theodore with an italian accent, thanks!!! 😓

warnings: italian!theo. jealous!theo. angsty. friends to lovers. slowburn. oblivious reader and theo (they’re both clearly in love). love confession. tension. heavy kissing. pansy x blaise.

6:00P.M.

“okay… so what i’m hearing is that you hate me and want me to die.” you flinched at the dress pansy held to your body, your nose twitching as you dramatically gagged.

it was yellow with black stripes, reminding you of the bee movie you had previously watched with her and your friends in the slytherin common room.

pansy was cackling beside you; her hair hanging low in her face as loud snorts tumbled from her nose. “no—no you have to hear me out,” she cackled. “it’s perfect! it’ll match your house and everything, baby.”

“you know what else is perfect?” your lips twitched into a malice smile.

“what?” she was still laughing, hardly able to contain herself as she ran her fingers through her hair.

grabbing your wand, you pointed it toward the dress. “evanesco!” you quickly shouted, a smirk now adorning your lips as the fabric disappeared from her grasp.

“you’re no fun,” she pouted, her laughter ceasing before giggles bubbled right back up again. “i’ll tell you what, i think i do have a dress for you to wear. trust me?” she asked, still giggling as she cocked her head to the side.

“i don’t know…” you teased, “are you going to pull out another bumblebee catastrophe?”

“no, i promise.” she interlocked her pinky with yours, the laughter finally dying down.

after a moment, you sat on her bed, your head leaning against the headboard as you waited for her to find what she was looking for in the mess she called ‘closet’.

your fingers danced around your wand, attempting to spin it around your unskilled grasp—only for it to end up dropping to your side. you blew out a stream of tense air. “have you found it yet?” you impatiently wailed.

“hold on,” she replied, annoyed.

after holding on for what felt like half an hour — two minutes max — she found the dress she was looking for

and it was beautiful.

it was a black dress with spaghetti straps that would clearly hug your body; long, plain, but gorgeous; just what you wanted.

“pans, it’s perfect.” you said, excitement rushing through your veins before it pained back down. well shit, you thought as your heart practically pounded in your chest.

tonight was the slytherin house party hosted to celebrate the new year. you’re a hufflepuff, a hufflepuff that managed to befriend the group of slytherin that everyone wanted but couldn’t become friends with. you knew most of the slytherin house disliked you, but your friends were feared, nobody dared to say too much about you to your face.

how sweet of them, you thought.

“yeah, it’s nothing special, but paired with a few gold accessories and your pretty face it’s going to look great!” pansy set the dress on the blanket beside you, her hands smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles before meeting your gaze. “woah— hey what’s wrong?” she asked.

“uh,” you stuttered, looking toward the dress once, twice, before making eye contact with her again. “nothing’s— wrong?” you said, clearly trying to convince yourself of that matter rather than her.

you weren’t too emotional, always being able to hold a strong ground, but you had your days; like most hufflepuff. you guessed that today was one of those days.

great.

“baby, what’s wrong?” pansy asked again, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “you know i’d never seriously make fun of you, right? you can talk to me,” she laughed softly, looking at you with an understanding gaze.

“it’s stupid.” you muttered, a smile creeping on your face despite the heavy turmoil in your chest. “i don’t even know if i should be going to this party… i don’t belong there.”

pansys brows furrowed. “whose making you feel like you don’t belong there?” she was upset, that of which you could tell.

“uh, everyone?” you responded as if it were as plain as day. “well, not you and our friends of course… but everyone else. they so-obviously don’t want me at their party, and i understand that; i mean, i’m a hufflepuff.”

pansy rolled her eyes. “screw them,” she said. “i want you there. matteo wants you there, enzo, draco, and blaise, all want you there.” her eyes glistened in the dim candlelighting, squinting as she drawled out her last sentence with an undeniable tease, “theo wants you there.”

pansy has known about your little crush on theo for years. it started in third year, when he began calling you that nickname you’ve just recently learned the meaning to: soffio.

it meant puff; a simple word that referred to your house, but it made your heart flutter.

he gave you that nickname

and it meant the world to you.

however, your delusions were just delusions. he didn’t know how much that name meant to you because he made it out of ridicule; a teasing ridicule, but ridicule at that.

“whatever,” you rolled you eyes, your thumb brushing away the singular tear rolling down your flushed cheek.

pansy smiled, getting out of bed, grabbing your hands to pull you off of the mattress as well. “you’re coming tonight,” she sing-songed. “and you don’t have a choice.”

7:30P.M.

"are you ready yet?!" pansy yelled against the bathroom door, pounding on it as you stared at yourself in the mirror.

your eyes shifted down the length of your body.

the dress looked just as good on as you imagined it would in your head, and if you were being honest, you're more-so holding her up to stare at yourself a little longer.

cocky, but whatever because you felt and looked amazing.

“one second!” you shouted, fluffing your hair up softly to make it look as if you ‘rolled out of bed’ in a perfect, flawless type way.

you could hear the sarcasm dripping from her tone as she counted, “one,” but you had already opened the door.

she looked stunning as well, wearing a long-sleeved, dark green dress with three gold rings forming a line down her slightly exposed chest.

“pansy, baby, you look so freaking pretty!” you squealed, your hands intertwined with hers mid-air as you both grinned at each other like overly-excited school girls. “me? oh my gosh, what about you?!” she said, her hands moving to your shoulders and rocking you gently as her eyes glistened. “you look so, so gorgeous, y/n!!!”

“i think theo’s going to have a mannerism,” she teased and you rolled your eyes.

“whatever,” you giggled.

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 🤍 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

8:00P.M.

two hundred slytherin and one hufflepuff,

but you’re only focused on six of them.

the six you felt safest around:

pansy parkinson (duh),

matteo riddle,

lorenzo berkshire,

(somehow) draco malfoy,

blaise zabini,

and theodore nott.

obviously, you didn’t walk in unnoticed.

matteo immediately sat up from the couch, making his way over to you as he watched you walk in with pansy. “funny seeing you here,” he teased, “how’s my favorite hufflepuff doing?” his arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you in closer to kiss the top of your head.

“yeah, yeah,” you rolled your eyes, laughing as you pushed him away. “and i’m okay, a little nervous, but i’m all good. y’know?”

“nervous?” matteo asked, cocking a brow.

you shot him a look and he quickly understood. “ah, no need to worry about them.” he promised, “they’ll be dealt with if they do anything.”

your forehead wrinkled slightly as you shot him a weary smile. “thanks.” you replied coolly, noticeably unsure of his intentions.

from across the room, theo’s eyes lit up, his frown transforming into a soft, bright smile as he made his way through the thick crowd to get to you. “soffio, you’re here.” his lips brushed against your hair, his arms wrapped around your head, pulling your cheek flat against his chest.

his italian accent was thick and heavy, harder to understand as his voice muffled into the depths of your hair, but you still felt a blush crawl over your flesh.

“theo—“ you muttered, your voice just as muffled as he pulled you even closer, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other threaded through your hair, “i thought you weren’t going to show up, bella, i was worried,” he then whispered.

matteo shot him a look.

“theo you’re crushing me!” you giggled, your hands crawling up his chest to create a little distance between the two of you.

his large hand gently caressed your cheek; four fingers stroking your jaw as his thumb lingered in its original place, now smiling as he pulled away. “mi dispiace,” he whispered before turning his attention to the friend making his way over.

"i'm surprised you showed up," blaise drawled, leaning against the wall with an amused smirk. "thought you'd run the other way once you heard who all was coming." despite his words, there was warmth in his gaze as it met yours, a spark of admiration glinting in their depths.

“oh, shut up,” pansy hit his side, rolling her eyes. “if you scare her away i’ll beat your ass,” she then whispered, eyes squinting as she playfully bit down on her words.

“relax, ma.” he chuckled, his hands falling to her hips, squeezing them gently as he leaned down to kiss her, “let’s go get a drink, yeah?”

“and that’s my cue to leave,” pansy playfully hit your thigh, shooting a quick glance to theo as if she knew something you didn’t, “don’t do too much without me.”

you shivered as you watched her walk away, your mind racing at what she could have meant; knowing her, it could be anything.

draco entered the room then, scanning the gathering with a faint smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. he hesitated when he spotted you surrounded by the others, finally shrugging as if it wouldn't bother him either way before striding over. "y/l/n," he greeted coolly, shooting a smug look at matteo and theodore. "happy almost new year."

you wrinkled your nose at draco, a playful challenge lighting up in your eyes. "happy almost new year to you too, malfoy."

lorenzo approached last, his gaze taking in the group with a slow appraisal before he settled on you. there was something unreadable lurking behind his dark eyes, a mixture of surprise and a slight hint of desire. "quite the turnout," he murmured.

weird, you thought.

"aye, quite the turnout," matteo replied, chuckling softly as he placed a hand on lorenzo's shoulder. there was a brief moment of tension between them as they glanced toward you and theo, a silent understanding passing between the two of them before both men simply let it slide.

what seemed to you as theo ignoring their odd behavior, he turned to face everyone, clapping his hands together. "ah," he grinned, his voice full of mirth. "glad you decide to join us, lorenzo." theo patted his side.

lorenzo grinned, patting theo’s side in return, “wouldn’t wanna be here with anyone else.” he replied before looking toward the brunette woman he felt eyeing him down. “except maybe her,” he then smirked.

you heard matteo sigh, muttering a series of curse words as draco snickered beside him.

“whore,” draco spoke as if his commentary were a compliment, but lorenzo was too busy undressing the girl with his eyes to notice.

“well go up to her,” you groaned, rolling your eyes teasingly as you pushed him away from the circle. “don’t be a puss; drinking her up from afar is an unattractive trait, berkshire.”

he stumbled, his palms brushing down his white suit before glancing over at matteo. then, he turned around to wink at you playfully. “oh, you’re in for it later,” he chuckled. “wish me luck, love.”

‘good luck,’ you mouthed as he began to walk toward the girl, the tension in the room shifting.

theo scowled at lorenzo, three fingers rubbing against his thumb as matteo teasingly brushed the italian’s side. “chill,” he whispered, a shady smile playing on his lips.

“do not tell me to chill,” theo’s voice rose. “i am chill, no need to tell me to chill if i am already.”

your brows furrowed slightly, confused as to why theo snapped so suddenly. “everything okay?” you asked, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against his bicep before he blew out a sigh.

“yes, soffio,” he shakily assured, finding the hand you placed on his bicep, sliding it into his palm, and kissing your knuckles gently. “i’m— i’m okay.”

matteo grinned brightly as an idea struck his mind. “alcohol, anyone?”

8:30P.M.

you were trying not to spill your drink as you made your way back through the crowd. yeah, you were wearing a black dress, so you guessed that a stain wouldn’t really matter… but you still hated the feeling of wet fabric against your skin.

“ow,” you muttered as you bumped into matteo’s chest. don’t worry, you did not spill your beverage.

you were about to apologize until you noticed lorenzo standing beside him, now turning to stand behind you. your brows furrowed to the bridge of your nose. staring at them intensely, you asked, “uh, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“we’re going to help you out, girlfriend,” matteo smirked, his eyes a dangerous game, his tone slithering directly into one ear then finding its way out the next.

“like i said,” you scowled. “uh, what?”

“do you want a new years kiss or not?” lorenzo asked, his palm finding your waist to keep you steady as you tried to walk away.

you slapped his hand. “not from you, berkshire.” you spat.

“obviously not from me, idiot.” he rolled his eyes. “from theodore.”

your eyes lit.

matteo cocked his brow, “there might be one before new years though if he doesn’t crack.”

this time, you did spill your drink—a little of the liquid dripping from the rim of your cup as your hand jerked forward. “what are you talking about, matty?” your voice dripped with disgust as you then slapped lorenzo’s hand away from your waist, “and let go of me.”

“do you like theodore or not?” matteo asked, clearly annoyed.

“none of the bullshit either, sweetheart.” lorenzo dragged. “everyone can tell you’re crazy about the guy, there’s no point in hiding it anymore.”

“you know what they say…new year, new confessions.” matteo cocked a brow, waiting for you to come clean.

you huffed, the need to correct him strong as you rolled your eyes. “they don’t say that,” you said, but you were now looking toward the ground… “okayyesiliketheo,” you muttered.

“what was that?” lorenzo asked, a teasing smile apparent on his lips. “one more time for me, love?”

“yes; merlin, yes, okay! i like theo,” you bit in a faint yet deadly whisper. “what do you want from me? a cookie?”

matteo smirked, looking around before taking a step closer to you, “atta girl.” he said, “enzo and i’ve been thinking,” - “not a good sign.” - “girl, shut up. we were thinking and we know a way to get theo to confess his feelings.”

before you could ask how, you felt lorenzo’s proximity come closer as well. “he’s protective over you, that we all know.”

you couldn’t necessarily see enzo roll his eyes, but you could hear the eye roll in his tone.

“we’re going to make him jealous.” matteo added.

lorenzo nodded, “precisely.”

he stumbled, his palms brushing down his white suit before glancing over at matteo. then, he turned around to wink at you playfully. "oh, you're in for it later," he chuckled. "wish me luck, love."

'good luck, you mouthed.

“see, you were playing along before you even realized.” matteo nudged your shoulder playfully and you finally laughed, easing up a bit.

“you really think this is going to work?” you asked, a little unsure of the whole situation.

to that, lorenzo scoffed. “i know it’s going to work.” he stated. “darling, theo is head over heels for you; you’re all he talks about. let’s just consider this to be theo’s wake up call.”

9:00P.M.

you’re now wineless.

you downed three cup-fulls of the substance to take your mind off the fact you’re sitting on lorenzo berkshire’s lap at a party; a guy you’ve always thought of as a brother.

“i’m sorry.” he whispered against the side of your head, “i know how uncomfortable this may be for you.”

“not uncomfortable,” you responded, your head now resting against his shoulder, and that was the truth. you weren’t uncomfortable, “this is just different.”

he nodded, his gaze lingering on theo’s hand as he watched his knuckles turn white around a glass. “somebodies getting angry,” enzo chuckled. theo never contemplated anything when it came to you, must be the italian in him well, except maybe when it came to confessing his feelings. you watched as he began to walk toward the two of you. “prepare yourself, love.” enzo then warned.

“lorenzo,” theodore smiled, a forced smile, one that laid heavy on his chest. “how about you come on a walk with me, yeah? i want to speak with you privately.”

his eyes found yours—they were heavy and disappointed. your heart sank further, but you only held onto lorenzo a little tighter.

“woah, heyyy, what’s going on here?” matteo quickly intervened, gently patting theo on the back as he looked at you and lorenzo. “i didn’t know you two were a thing!” matteo sounded astonished, his mouth dropping as he chuckled. “theo, buddy, isn’t this wonderful news?”

the scowl on theodore’s face was apparent as he muttered, “considerati fortunata, puttana,” (consider yourself lucky, whore.) under his breath, but he quickly nodded. “yeah, such great and—wonderful news, mio amico.”

“you think?” lorenzo smirked, giving your waist a gentle squeeze before kissing your neck, cheekily staring at theodore as your hand entangled into his brunette hair.

theodore’s eyes darkened as he sipped his alcohol, an angry noise bubbling from his throat. “yep.” he bit, “it’s fucking wonderful.”

“now that’s good sportsmanship.” matteo rubbed theo’s back before continuing. “hey! i have an idea. why don’t we go dancing? how does that sound, lovebirds!”

you slid off lorenzo’s lap and he was quick to follow suite, his arm sliding around your hipbone, pressing your back against his chest. he had to be strongly willed because the way theodore’s gaze burned through his skull wasn’t easy to ignore.

at least you couldn’t ignore it.

it made you sick to your stomach.

theo set his glass on the table. “you do that—i’m going for a smoke.”

9:30P.M.

theo didn’t go outside to smoke.

instead, he was leaned against a wall, a cigarette planted between his parted lips as his eyes stuck to yours like glue; watching you dance against lorenzo rather than him.

you decided not to make eye contact with theodore because if you did you’d end up stopping the plan right then and there.

“enzo,” you muttered, your gaze struggling to stay on the ground as his chin rested on your head, swaying to the music with his hands on your waist. “hmm?” he hummed.

“could you, um,” you stuttered, your eyes fluttering to theodore’s and immediately regretting it. “turn me around.”

he nodded, his gaze now facing theodore’s pained one as you wrapped your arms tighter around his neck to comfort yourself. in return, he gave you a squeeze. “i know how hard this is for you, love,” he whispered, “but trust me, it’s going to be worth it.”

“are you sure?” you asked, your mind beginning to race. “because he hasn’t done anything other than stare. i mean, who stares at the person they supposedly have a crush on as they dance with your best friend?…oh my merlin,” you muttered, reality hitting you. “i’m dancing with his best friend.”

you tried to back away but lorenzo’s grip tightened around you, “y/n.”

“i’m going to hell,” you continued. “this is it for me. i’m literally the worst person alive. hell. that’s my future. h. e. double hockey stic—“

enzo squeezed your hips, signaling that he’s about to kiss you. “now?!” you shouted in an angry whisper. lorenzo nodded, his eyes darting toward theodore’s again, watching as he began to make his way over.

“now.” he confirmed and your stomach backflipped.

a hand came to your cheek, lorenzo’s thumb covering your mouth as he kissed that rather than you; to the unassuming eye, the kiss was passionate, stomach hurling curling.

any girl would die to kiss lorenzo berkshire; slytherin’s number one heart throb.

just not you.

but boy did you put on a show.

theodore stopped in his tracks, his hand reaching forward as a communication indicator but falling back to his side in defeat. he turned back around.

good thing you didn’t see that because you would’ve chased after him, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately; not his fucking best friend.

10:30P.M.

you were comfortable dancing with lorenzo when theodore’s eyes weren’t burning through the two of you; laughing as his hands ghosted over your hips, dancing to the music as friends rather than ‘lovers’.

you almost forgot about the whole plan.

“thought that she… was with theo.” a slytherin you didn’t recognize commented.

“must be a pass around.” another smirked, and your heart sank even further.

you stepped away from lorenzo, emotions stirring as you made eye contact with the group talking about you.

their commentary came to an end as you watched matteo approach them in your peripheral vision. you didn’t hear much bickering after that, but regardless, your vision began to blur.

looking around, you noticed everyone staring at you, and you took another step back.

“hey— hey!” lorenzo was close to you again.

“what?” you bit. “this whole thing, this whole plan is stupid and i want to stop.”

“y/n.” he chuckled, looking around awkwardly, trying to place his arms around you waist but you smacked him hard in the chest, sending him slightly backward.

a small gasp tumbled from his parted lips.

you didn’t shout, but your voice graveled as you continued to walk into him. “i’m.” you hit him again. “not.” again. “doing.” again. “this.” and again. “anymore!”

but his arms stayed around you.

“i want to stop!” you were crying now, going limp against his chest as your throat burned. “please, please let me stop, enz… please.”

enzo drug a hand to your lower back, doing what he knew he needed to do. “don’t worry. i’ll go find pansy.” he whispered before kissing your temple.

10:45P.M.

“pans,” you cried, your mascara staining your cheeks as you burried yourself in her arms. “this was a mistake—i shouldn’t have agreed to their stupid plan.”

“hey,” she whispered, her fingers gently massaging your scalp. “we’ve all fallen for their antics before, don’t blame yourself too badly, honeybee.”

you shot her a look and she cocked her head, smiling empathetically, “not the time?”

“i’ll tell you what,” she whispered again, casting a small spell to rid the mascara from your cheeks before pulling your shoulders back to look you in the eye. “don’t leave. give it until midnight like planned, and if it goes wrong…” pansy took her phone out, a recording of both matteo and lorenzo stopping you earlier to explain the plan playing on screen.

she then smirked, “i’ll show him this.”

“when did you take that?” you asked, your fingers trailing down the length of the phone before looking at her skeptically; eyes still swollen.

her gaze shifted toward the ground, “let’s just say i was um… in on the whole thing…”

“don’t worry, though.” she says, brushing the final tear on your cheek away with the base of her thumb as she smiled. “they came to me so things wouldn’t get all fucked up… they care about you y/n, and they care about theodore, they don’t want to ruin this thing you have with him, okay?”

you nod, and she hugs you one last time before you have to go and find lorenzo.

11:00P.M.

“you seem tense, y/l/n,” draco found you before you found lorenzo.

his gaze drifted toward theodore, who was currently yelling at matteo—who was currently yelling at matteo. draco’s eye widened, astonished at the sight laid before him, “and i think i know why.”

“no, no, no, fuck!” you shouted, about to run toward them before the pair of hands you’d become so acquainted with today found your waist a-fucking-gain.

“do not.” enzo spat. “just be patient.”

draco raised his brows, clearly not even wanting to know as he silently left the scene.

“he’s going to kill him!” you shouted, struggling in his grasp, “let. me. GO.”

enzo rolled his eyes, “has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn little asshole?”

you paused for a moment. “hm, yes,” you nodded. now let me go.”

he held on tighter.

11:15P.M.

“no, no , no,” theodore’s fingers ran through his hair, “what is he doing to her, matteo? he shouldn’t be dancing with her like—like that! she’s a lady!”

theodore wasn’t yelling at matteo, his movements made it look as if he were upset, but he wasn’t. well… not at matteo at least.

matteo, being such a good friend, was letting theodore rant to him about how much he valued you and your friendship.

otherwise known as: matteo wanted to milk theo to his breaking point.

“dancing with her like what?” matteo asked, staring at you and lorenzo as he swayed and rocked his hips against yours. “seems to me like they’re having a little fun, if you know what i mean.” he winked playfully.

“jokester.” theodore drawled, pushing his shoulder. “i don’t like seeing her with him.”

matteo cocked his brow, “yeah and why’s that, buddy?” his head tilted to the side, “are you… jealous?”

theo looked astounded, immediately shaking his head in denial. “no, of course not.” he said, his cheeks turning a brighter shade of red as his anger grew palpable. “but she shouldn’t be here with that imbecille.”

“here we go again,” matteo rolled his eyes, groaning. “you never think anyone is right for her, dude. you have to give it a break.”

“a break,” theo threw his hand flat out in front of him, his forearm horizontal against his stomach. he drew it out, creating an invisible line. “she disserves someone that respects her, not a man like lorenzo.”

becoming harder to contain himself, matteo raised a brow at theo. "you mean deserves?” he grinned, continuing to drawl, “and who says he isn't the one for her?"

theo appeared as if he were on the verge of snapping. that caused matteo to chuckle, clasping his hands together as he grinned. “aw, what’s wrong, theo?” he playfully pouted, “you don’t like seeing them together? you poor, poor thing,” he puffed his lips. “guess you can’t do anything about it now.”

theo's eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched as he glared at matteo. "this isn’t right," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "that boy is not good for her, and you know it."

matteo raised his hands in mock surrender, stepping back from theo. "whoa, whoa, calm down, buddy," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "i’m just messing with you. I know you care about her, but you can't control who she chooses to be with."

theo's gaze never left matteo, but he slowly relaxed his posture, his anger simmering down. "don’t mess with me right now, matteo," he warned, his voice still tense. "this is y/n we’re talking about; that boy will corrupt her!”

matteo shrugged, a smirk still playing on his lips. "maybe she likes the bad boys," he teased, gesturing toward you and lorenzo. "maybe she's into a little danger and excitement."

theo scoffed, muttering a curse under his breath. matteo raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to his friend, his tone becoming serious.

“you love her, buddy.” he said softly, his words filled with gentle understanding, “i know you do; trust me, i’ve seen the way you’ve looked at her since first year. just talk to her.”

the moment stretched thinly between them, theo's face twisting with an agonizing mix of emotions. things became tense, and both men glanced over to where you and lorenzo danced in the distance.

“i need a drink,” theo muttered.

11:30P.M.

“this sucks,” you groaned, looking at lorenzo only to find that his gaze is back on the brunette girl from earlier. you watched him, rolling your eyes before taking that chance to slip away.

music blared throughout the common room, it was upbeat and happy, but your focus drifted toward the window as you sat on the ledge.

you could feel the weather seeping through the glass, a gentle coldness caressing your cheeks as you took a deep breath in.

you sighed heavily, rubbing your temples with your fingertips, trying to clear your thoughts as you stared out into the misty night. winter breezes blew through the open windows, accompanied by the distant sounds of laughter resounding from behind you, but for some reason, you couldn't enjoy yourself.

a part of you longed to rejoin the festivities, while another wished for escape entirely. lost in thought, time seemed to blur until suddenly, draco’s voice startled you from your own thoughts.

"i wasn't aware the fireplace emitted such an enticing scent." he commented dryly, leaning casually against the window frame beside you. "or did you just need another excuse to avoid lorenzo back there?"

you repeated, "an excuse," you blew out a string of air, turning to look at draco with a raised eyebrow. "or maybe i just needed a break from the chaos."

draco smirked, crossing his arms over his chest. "chaos?" he echoed, leaning back against the window frame. "i thought you enjoyed these kinds of gatherings."

you shrugged, looking back out into the night. "sometimes," you admitted, "but not when i'm stuck in the middle of a bunch of drama."

draco's smirk faded slightly, his eyes narrowing as he studied you. "don’t be too hard on yourself, y/l/n," he said softly, his tone more serious now. "you're just trying to figure things out, like the rest of us."

you hesitated, biting your lip as you considered his words; words that you never thought you’d hear from him. "maybe," you murmured, glancing back at him. "but it's hard when everyone else seems to have it all figured out."

draco's gaze softened, and he reached out to gently take your hand in his. "we all have our moments, y/n," hemumbled. "don't fall through to others. just focus on what makes you happy."

his eyes flicked toward the party, a hint of sympathy in his gaze. "trust me, even the most confident among us struggle on occasion. and that includes myself." he added, smirk reappearing briefly.

you sighed, examining his hand holding yours, his grip firm yet comforting.

"it's hard to believe sometimes," your fingers curled around his, returning the pressure. "everything's getting complicated."

"maybe," draco mused, "and that's alright. life would be boring without consequences and complications." he smiled, a rare glimpse of vulnerability in his eyes.

for the first time, you felt a pang of pity for him- not because he was malfoy, but because he was human.

draco’s eyes drew over yours, then they glanced toward theodore who was cocking his head in your direction. the boy seemed to follow you everywhere, not letting you get too far when anyone approached you.

“i better get out of here before your real boyfriend starts to think i want any trouble,” draco chuckled.

you looked up at him, "what?" he waved, his brows angled in an amused position as he grinned. "i'll see you later," he chuckled.

you hesitated, your gaze flickering between draco and theo, who was still watching you from afar. you couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for this whole evening.

"yeah, see you later," you murmured, pulling your hand away from draco's and standing up.

draco nodded, his smirk never wavering. "don't let theo get too jealous now," he teased before turning and disappearing back into the party.

you watched draco walk away, a mix of amusement and confusion playing on your face. you couldn't help but feel a little flustered by his teasing, but you also couldn't deny that he had a point.

11:45P.M.

you looked up at the clock, contemplating on whether or not to just go back to your dorm. you were tired of pretending, and it wasn’t like enzo was coming back to you anytime soon. he had that girl pressed against the wall, his lips violently sucking the sweet spot under her jaw, her legs wrapped around his waist.

“fifteen minutes til new years,” an overhead announced, “head outside for the firework show, or don’t, whatever!”

their voice was cocky, but it caused you to finally crack a smile as you headed toward the door. you weren’t going to mope, but you also weren’t going to bother your friends who were clearly busy with their lovers or one-night stands.

the music was still loud outside, blaring messages from her by sabrina claudio through the speakers as you stood by a fountain.

sitting on the ledge, you watched the water, the stillness of it causing you to relax.

somewhere behind you, you heard footsteps crunching on gravel and snow. slowly, you turned to see theodore walking toward you hunched down into his coat.

his eyes met yours and a sympathetic look crossed his features. "i couldn't stay away," he whispered, further approaching until he was sitting on the ledge next to you.

though it pained you, you smiled at him, wanting to say a million things but you voice falling flat as he shifted around nervously.

“you must be freezing,” he then commented, pretending to just now notice your spaghetti strapped dress as he slid out of his jacket, shrugging it off his shoulders and carefully draping it over yours.

"thank you, theo." you murmured, wrapping the familiar fabric of his jacket around you, the scent of him clinging to it.

theo glanced away, his jaw tightening before he spoke again, seeming to collect his thoughts.

"happy new year, soffio," he said cautiously, focusing his attention back on the fountain.

you mirrored his gaze, feeling a tear pool in your eye. your throat burned as you swallowed. "happy new year," you whispered back, hesitating before tentatively reaching out to grasp his hand.

theo's features softened, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "is it true," he asked quietly, casting a quick glance your way, then looking back sharp to the water.

your breathing hitched, swallowing the lump in your throat. "is what true, theo," you whispered, fixing your gaze on his profile.

“you and lorenzo,” he replied, the sentence like poison on his tongue.

you held back a small breath, shaking your head vigorously. "no," you managed after a heavy exhale.

"then why did you leave me to be with him earlier?" theo questioned stiffly, his own whisper evaporating in the chilled air. you closed your eyes, letting out a shaky sigh.

his grip on your hand tightened, though you didn't pull away.

"it's not like that," you mumbled, struggling with your emotions. "it’s complicated..."

your voice trailed off, uncertainty clouding your judgement.

“so tell me, y/n!” theodore’s voice rose, now holding both of your hands, turning you to look him in the eye. “devi dirmelo. (you have to tell me) i can’t take it— i need you to tell me what’s going on between you and lorenzo. is- is he or is he not your lover?”

you watched his eyes plead with you, the desperation washing away some of your fear and anxiety. “it wasn’t real,” you stammered, your voice just as loud. “none of it; the kiss, the dancing, the whole relationship.”

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself for the conversation that was about to unfold. "okay?” you shakily muttered, meeting his gaze. "that whole thing was to get us together."

theo's eyes widened, his grip on your hands loosening slightly. "what?" he whispered, clearly taken aback by your confession.

you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "i know it sounds crazy, but i wanted to be with you, theo. they told me this would make you ask me out—” you cringed at your sentence, “if you don’t believe me pansy has the whole video."

your voice trembled, and you could feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "i'm sorry, i never meant to hurt you."

theo stared at you for a long moment, his expression a mix of shock, confusion, and hurt. "why would you do that, soffio?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, “make me jealous so i’d get with you? bella…”

your eyes welled up with unshed tears, your voice catching as you spoke. "i was scared," you admitted. "scared that you wouldn't see me the same way, scared to ruin our friendship... scared that you wouldn't-"

a sob echoed from your chest, causing you to falter.

"sorry, i'm so sorry, " you breathed, burying your face into his shoulder.

as the realization washed over theodore's face, his embrace around you tightened. "va tutto bene," (it’s okay) he whispered, a catch in his voice as he stroked your hair repeatedly. "soffio, i have loved you for so long. i despised seeing you with him tonight.”

you pulled back slightly, your eyes searching his face for truth. "you... you love me?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

theo nodded, his eyes filled with sincerity. "always, bella, but i never thought you saw me the same way."

you bit your lip, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "i'm sorry, theo," you murmured, leaning back into his embrace. "i should have told you sooner."

"it's okay," he reassured you, his arms tightening around you. "we can start fresh now. no more games, no more pretending."

you nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over you. "i'd like that," you whispered, your eyes closing as you rested your head on his shoulder.

the countdown to midnight began over the speakers, the music dying down as people waited for the new year. “come here,” he whispered, a hand placed on your waist, positioning you to straddle his lap as he rested both palms on your hips.

you hesitated for a moment, but then slowly shifted your weight, wrapping your legs around him as he guided you.

“tell me you want this, bella,” he whispered, one palm gently squeezing your hip as the other came to caress your cheek.

with a subtle smile, you leaned in toward him, whispering into his ear. "i want this, theo," you confirmed.

his adam's apple bobbed, his thumbs tracing lazy circles on your lower lip. you closed your eyes, feeling his breath tickling against your skin. there was anticipation on his expression, almost palpable.

as the countdown reached zero, the music swelled, and fireworks exploded in the sky, theo’s palms guided your face in anticipation, tasting you the way he’d dreamed of for years as his lips danced softly, gracefully against yours.

you shivered against him, relishing in the warmth of his embrace as your happiness leaked into every corner of your being.

this moment was different, liberating. his touch, intimate, and sincere.

“bella,” he whispered sweetly, resting his forehead against yours, “don’t you try and win my affection again, understood? it’s yours; it always will be yours.”

you laughed, kissing the tip of his nose as you closed your eyes, “okay, okay. i got it.”

his laughter grew with yours, his head falling to your neck as he softly kissed the delicate skin under your ear, “happy new year, soffio.” he then whispered, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.

“happy new year, theo.”

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