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natsaffection · 3 days ago

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Redline 5.2 | N.R

Older!Motorsportboss!Natasha x Younger!RacingDriver!Reader

Warnings: arguing, illegal street race, mention of blood, accident, feelings

Word count: 10,8k

A/N: I’m sorry if it feels rushed, I really didn’t want to make a part 3, or my inbox might actually explode 😅 So… good luck getting through it!

Part 1

The sun hung directly overhead, white-hot and unforgiving, but you barely felt the heat. Your race suit clung to your body, the zip pulled down just far enough to breathe, the Romanoff Racing crest on your chest dark with sweat. A champagne bottle hung loosely from your fingers. You stood on the second step of the podium.

Second.

Not because you weren’t fast enough. Not because you made a mistake. Because you gave it up.

On your right, Willow stood high above, flushed cheeks, dazed eyes, a grin so wide it seemed like her whole body might shatter from the force of it. She bounced slightly on her heels like the adrenaline hadn’t let go yet. Trophy in hand. Camera flashes sparkling around her like a constellation she didn’t know how to navigate.

The announcer was calling your names. Applause. Cheering. Distant horns and drums from the fan zone. And you were smiling, too. But it wasn’t joy. It was reflex. A veteran’s mask.

You turned your head just enough to look at Willow. You weren’t angry.. Not anymore. Somewhere between the call and the checkered flag, the fury had given way to something quieter. Resignation, maybe. Or peace.

This had been the right choice. You accepted that. Willow didn’t need to be punished for being proud. For being good. For finishing first on a day when everyone said she couldn’t.

And Natasha..God, Natasha had done what a team principal was supposed to do. She had protected both cars. She had protected Willow.

It had just hurt anyway.

The paddock was a blur of people and sound and color. Speakers pumping low bass. Crew laughing, embracing, holding up glasses of something bubbly and golden. Champagne dripped from the floor to the walls in some corners.

Willow stood at the center of it all, wrapped in a towel, her race suit unzipped, hair pulled back in a damp braid, a Romanoff-branded champagne bottle cradled in one arm like a baby.

Her smile hadn’t faded once. She made the rounds, techs, PR, mechanics, thanking every single one of them. They cheered when she passed. Someone handed her a mic for a quick sponsor vid. Her voice cracked a little when she spoke.

Meanwhile, you had slipped in through the side door of the garage. You peeled off your gloves slowly, one finger at a time, listening to the distant chaos but not part of it. No one saw you come in. You preferred it that way.

You walked past the engine bench. Past the tire wall. Past the monitors still looping your lap times. You had driven like a god today. And not a single camera had stayed on you after lap 34.

You reached for a bottle of water on the edge of the pit bench. There were still unopened champagne bottles on the table nearby, leftovers from the stash PR had dropped off earlier.

Natasha stood near them, speaking with one of the tire engineers. Her posture was relaxed now. The tension that had lined her face all morning had bled away.

You watched as she handed a bottle to Willow, no theatrics, no applause. Just a quiet nod. You didn’t want one. That’s not what hurt. It was that the moment didn’t include you. Not in the way it used to. Not in the way you were used to being seen. You turned away before Natasha noticed you watching..

The silence in the car was thick in the back seat, so thick you could choke on it. You sat behind Natasha, legs drawn up slightly, your body curled near the window, earphones in again. Hood pulled low. Eyes locked on your phone screen.

Natasha drove, one hand loose on the wheel, the other drumming her fingers softly against the steering column. She didn’t speak.

Willow sat up front, still bright-eyed, still breathless. Her phone was out, flipping between photos of the podium, voice memos of her initial race reactions, media alerts already pinging in from Formula 1 socials.

“God..” she said, laughing softly. “It’s already everywhere.”

Natasha glanced at her. “You’ll get used to-”

You closed your eyes behind your sunglasses. You turned up the music. Louder. Drowning them out. It didn’t work tho, and you opened your news app.

“The Rise of Romanoff’s Rookie”

“A New Star in F1: Willow Petrov’s Victory in Her First Grand Prix”

“Has L/N Lost Her Edge?”

You kept scrolling.

“Tensions Behind the Podium? Sources Say Team Orders May Have Cost L/n the Win”

“Petrov Shines, L/n Fades, Changing of the Guard at Romanoff Racing?”

Your thumb paused. The articles weren’t cruel. But they were full of words like transition, evolution, legacy. The kind of words they use when they’re already writing your ending.

You felt a slow, sick twist in your stomach. Not rage. Not even jealousy. Just that old ache. The one that told you, you might be slipping. That maybe..despite everything, you weren’t what Natasha needed anymore.

Natasha glanced in the rearview mirror. Your face was unreadable. Still. The kind of stillness that didn’t mean peace. The kind that meant you were leaving your body to avoid the pain.

Natasha’s fingers froze for a second on the steering wheel. And for the first time all day, Natasha’s stomach dropped.

——

The afterparty had fizzled hours ago. There were no more cameras, no more journalists lurking in the lobby with subtle microphones, no mechanics slapping backs and shouting over music. Just the low hum of city life below and the warm flicker of golden light spilling from the hotel’s open windows.

You sat on the balcony of the team lounge, legs up on the railing, hoodie draped over you, a glass of something untouched in your hand. The night air was cooler now, but the wind didn’t bite. You didn’t want company. But you weren’t surprised when the glass door slid open behind you.

“Hey..” Willow said softly, hovering near the edge of the doorway. “Can I..?”

You nodded, not looking at her. “Sure.”

Willow stepped out slowly, dressed down in a loose sweatshirt and compression leggings, her hair still slightly damp from a shower. She walked over and lowered herself into the chair beside you, tucking her knees up and wrapping her arms around them.

They sat in silence for a moment, the quiet stretching gently between you like something neither of you wanted to break.

“I, um…” Willow started, then stopped. Tried again. “I wanted to say thank you.”

You glanced over at her, one brow raised. “For what?”

“For…” Willow hesitated. “Letting me win. I mean, I know it was team orders, and Natasha said it was for safety, but, I know what that cost you. I do.”

You looked back out at the skyline. The city pulsed in quiet waves, lights blinking, a train moving in the distance. “It wasn’t mine to keep.”

“That’s not true..” Willow said. “You could’ve ignored her. People do. You could’ve stayed in front, taken it. No one would’ve blamed you.”

You let out a soft breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “She would’ve.”

Willow didn’t answer.

“But she made the right call.” you added after a beat. “Your car could’ve failed. Wolfe was closing. We would’ve lost both podiums. It was smart. Strategic.”

“And it still sucked..” Willow said quietly.

Your jaw flexed. You stared down into the glass in your hand.

“I just don’t want to mess this up..” Willow continued. “Not the driving. Not the team. Not with you. I look up to you. I studied you.”

You turned toward her fully then. Your eyes were tired, but not unkind. “You’re not messing anything up, Willow.” you said. “You’re good. You’re…better than I expected.”

Willow blinked, caught off guard. “That sounded like a compliment and a threat at the same time.”

You finally smiled. “Maybe it was.”

You shared a laugh, small, real. Willow tilted her head. “Do you miss when it was just you?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes went distant. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “But not because of you. It’s not about competition. It’s about…knowing where I stand. When I came here, I had nothing. Just pain, and wreckage, and Natasha. And now I have this…empire I helped build. I just don’t always know if there’s still a throne.”

Willow’s voice softened. “There is. I’m not here to take it.”

“I know.” you said. “But what if I’m the one stepping down without meaning to?”

The silence that followed was heavy, but not sharp. Just true. Willow reached for her water and took a slow sip, then looked back at you.

“Can I ask you something?”

You glanced sideways. “Sure.”

“Would you ever do it again? Step aside?”

You stared at her, long and hard. “No.” you said simply.

Willow nodded. “Good.”

They sat there until the wind picked up. Until the city below dimmed into the hush of midnight. Until the comfort between them didn’t feel like forgiveness or surrender, just a moment of quiet before the world started spinning again.

Most of the team had cleared out to prep media duties. Willow left too to bed. The door opened behind you again, slow and deliberate. Natasha’s footsteps were soft, but the silence was louder.

Natasha crossed the room and sat at the edge of the couch. Close, but not touching. A beat passed.

“This whole ‘silent exile’ routine is…?”

“I’m just tired.”

“You always get tired when Willow wins?”

You snapped your head toward her, eyes narrowing. “You think this is funny?”

Natasha held your gaze, serious, but not cruel. There was something behind it. Not mockery, no judgment. Just…surprise. Like she still didn’t get how the hell you even got here.

“I think it’s kind of unbelievable..” Natasha said. “That you still don’t see what I see.”

You crossed your arms. “Which is?”

Natasha leaned forward now, resting her elbows on her knees. Her voice dropped, calm but firm.

“That girl out there is twenty. She gets excited about free t-shirts. She still calls me Ms. Romanoff by accident.”

You stayed quiet. Natasha’s tone softened. “She’s young, and loud, and yes..good. But she’s not you.”

Your eyes flicked away. “Why do you think that would ever matter to me?” Natasha asked.

You swallowed. “Because maybe she’s easier.”

Natasha blinked, genuinely caught off guard. “What?”

You kept your arms crossed. Tight now. “She doesn’t question you. Doesn’t push back. Doesn’t come with history or trauma or baggage. She just drives and smiles and says thank you.”

“Jesus..Y/n..” Natasha muttered.

You shook your head. “You think I don’t notice how you light up around her?”

“Because she reminds me of you when you started.” Natasha said, suddenly. “Not because I want to replace you.”

You stilled. Natasha leaned back, arms now resting on the couch, looking at you, not angry, but wide open.

“I didn’t fall in love with a clean slate.” she said. “I fell in love with you. The stubbornness. The fire. The goddamn walls you put up so high I had to crash through them to reach you.”

You looked at her now, eyes tight. “So why does it feel like you look at her the same way you used to look at me?”

Natasha laughed, short and breathless. “Because you don’t let me look at you like that anymore.”

That hit hard..

“I try.” Natasha said, voice lower now. “But you flinch. You pull away. You act like you’ve already lost me.”

You looked down. Your voice cracked. “Because I’m scared I have.”

Natasha moved then, finally closer. Her hand rested against your knee, firm and grounding. “You haven’t. she said. “And if I ever made you think for a second that you did, then I fucked up.”

Your lip trembled. Natasha cupped your cheek now, gentle but sure. “You are the one I come home to. Not because you’re easy. Because you’re you.”

Your hands finally moved up, into Natasha’s hoodie, gripping at the fabric like it was the only thing keeping you from unraveling.

“I hate that I think like this..” you whispered. “I hate that I care so much what you think of her.”

“I love that you care.” Natasha said. “But don’t let it eat you. You don’t need to prove anything to me. You already did. A long time ago.”

You looked at her. “So you’re not leaving me for the excited twenty-year-old with a Spotify playlist full of anime intros?”

Natasha smirked. “Not unless you start quoting Fast & Furious again.”

“I said one thing-”

“You quoted family, baby.”

You both laughed, finally, something light. Something real. And Natasha pulled you close.

“I don’t want easier.” she murmured into your hair. “I want you.”

You lay curled on your side on the couch, wrapped in a blanket Natasha had found tucked behind the utility cabinet. Your breathing had evened out, but you weren’t asleep.

You hadn’t let go yet. Your fingers still held onto the edge of Natasha’s hoodie like an anchor. Natasha sat beside you, back against the couch wall, legs stretched out. The dim light from the hallway bled under the door, painting long stripes across the floor.

She watched you. Not to study, just to be near. No pressure. No expectations. Just the gravity of being together, after nearly tearing apart.

After a few minutes, you spoke. Barely above a whisper. “You can go. I’m okay now.”

Natasha didn’t move. “I mean it.” you added. “You must be exhausted.”

“I am.” Natasha said softly. “So I’m staying.”

You smiled faintly into the blanket. “That’s not how sleep works.”

“It is tonight.” You turned just enough to glance up at her. Natasha met your eyes and reached forward, brushing her fingers lightly over your cheek, tucking back a stray hair that had fallen over your temple.

“You’ve had the weight of everything on you for weeks.” she said. “Let me carry some of it.”

You looked down. “I didn’t know how to ask.”

“You didn’t have to.”

A beat passed. Then, with a tired voice, raw but no longer tense, you whispered, “Will you lay down with me?”

Natasha didn’t answer. She just stood quietly, kicked off her shoes, and slid behind you on the couch, pulling the blanket over both of you. She wrapped her arms around your waist and pressed her forehead to the back of your neck.

You melted into her like you’d been waiting all this time to just stop holding yourself up. And Natasha just held you. Breathing in sync. Heartbeats slow.

Your fingers found Natasha’s and tangled them together beneath the blanket.

“Thank you..”you murmured. “For coming back to me.”

Natasha pressed a soft kiss into your shoulder. “I never left.”

Another breath. A hum of comfort. Then silence again, but the kind that felt safe now..Warm.

Your eyes finally drifted closed. And Natasha stayed awake just a little longer, just to make sure you stayed asleep. Because for tonight, there was nothing left to prove.

Two days later, the sun was just beginning to dip. Most of the team had cleared out, techs heading to dinner, PR disappearing to prep media briefings, the garage growing quieter by the minute.

You stood near the back loading dock, arms folded, watching the sky change colors through a gap in the tarped service tent. Your hair was still damp from the post-sim shower, race suit unzipped, a pair of sunglasses hanging loose from your hand.

You checked your watch again. Then checked your messages. Nothing.

A soft breath escaped your lips. Not angry. Not surprised..Not anymore. Natasha had pulled you aside after debrief this morning. Quick, quiet, the way you always were when keeping things private.

“Dinner tonight?” she asked, resting a gentle hand on your back. “Just us. No phones. No PR. I made a reservation, something small.”

You raised a brow. “You made a reservation?”

Natasha smirked. “I know how. Occasionally.”

Your mouth twitched. “You sure you’re not trying to butter me up before you throw another team order at me?”

Natasha leaned in, close enough to press her lips lightly to your jaw. “I’m trying to remind you I’m yours. That’s it.” It was the first time in days you let yourself hope.

The restaurant was fifteen minutes from the paddock. Natasha had already changed, black trousers, blazer over a dark silk top, simple and sharp, understated but still a statement. She was five minutes from leaving. And then the knock came.

“Boss?”

It was the lead performance engineer. His face was tight. Serious. “We need you.”

Natasha’s stomach twisted. “What is it?”

“The gearbox data wasn’t just a race-day anomaly. There’s more. A degradation pattern, unlike anything we’ve seen. We think it started during pre-season testing and no one caught it. Willow’s car may not be safe for the next race unless we recalibrate the entire load offset manually.”

Natasha blinked. “Can’t Luis run the analysis?”

“We’re already over the legal margin for virtual modeling. This is about the human call now. Strategy. If it fails in practice, she could spin out at 240 kilometers per hour.”

She looked at the clock. 6:43.

Then at her bag. Then back to the data pad in his hands. Her jaw tightened. “Fine. Pull the schematics. I want a full paper trace. Get me the torque curves.“ She didn’t think. She acted.

You stood outside, arms wrapped around yourself. You were dressed simply, black pants, boots, a cropped jacket Natasha once told you made you look dangerous in the best way.

Your phone buzzed in your hand.

“I’m sorry. Garage emergency. Gearbox issue. I have to be here. I’ll explain everything later, okay?”

You stared at the message for a long time. Then opened the app and canceled the ride. You didn’t go back upstairs. You just started walking.

10:21 PM

Natasha’s eyes burned as she flipped through the fifth sheet of manual trace mapping. Her sleeves were rolled up, blazer discarded, hair tied back hastily. Grease stained one wrist. Her phone lay beside her, dark and still.

Willow sat two meters away, looking miserable and exhausted, clearly worried not just about her car, but about Natasha’s expression.

“You don’t have to stay..” Willow said. “The others can keep going. I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s not about meaning to.” Natasha said, voice low. “It’s about fixing the problem before it’s bigger.”

Somewhere inside, something was twisting. Because she knew. She knew this wasn’t just another missed evening. This one mattered. And she hadn’t been where she promised to be.

11:34 PM

You lay on the far side of the bed, one arm under the pillow, phone still unlocked on the nightstand, the message from Natasha opened but unanswered.

You weren’t angry. Not yet. But you felt it again, that creeping thing under your skin. The slow, familiar ache of realizing that even when someone loves you, they can still leave you standing alone.

And the worst part? You understood why. That was the part that made it harder to forgive. You got up. Didn’t bother dressing properly. Just slipped on a hoodie, track pants, sneakers with no socks. Tied your hair back loosely and left without turning on the lights.

The gym was dark. Motion-sensitive. The fluorescent panels flickered awake as you stepped in. You hit the treadmill but didn’t start it. Just stood there.

Until the stillness became too loud again. So you moved. First to the weights. Then pull-ups. Then quick body circuits until your arms burned and your heartbeat finally drowned out your thoughts.

Sweat dripped down your back. Your breathing came faster. It helped, but it didn’t fix anything.

And still..no message from Natasha. No knock at the door. Not even a check-in.

When your water bottle ran dry, you grabbed it and wandered toward the garage. Not for any reason. Not to see anything. Just habit. Just to move.

You didn’t expect anyone to be there. But as you turned the last hallway into the service bay- You saw them.

Natasha and Willow.

Still in team gear.

Still awake.

Still working.

They were crouched beside the car. Natasha’s sleeves rolled up. Hands dirty, grease on her forearm. A panel open on Willow’s rear suspension. Manuals laid out on a low bench.

Willow was watching closely. Nodding. Then she reached, she picked up a wrench. And Natasha turned to her. Your stomach dropped. She said something. Her voice was soft. Almost smiling. Willow gave a quiet nod.

You turned and walked out. You didn’t hear and saw the rest. You slammed the door harder than you meant to. The silence that followed was deafening. You stood in the middle of the suite, trembling, not from exhaustion, not from rage. Just from the sick, sudden weight of enough.

You wiped your forehead with the sleeve of your hoodie. Sweat and tears mixed somewhere near your eyes, but you refused to let either fall. You dropped the empty water bottle onto the floor. And stood there. Staring at the wall. Every thread that had been fraying these past days finally snapped in silence. And you were done pretending you didn’t feel it.

10 min earlier

The undercarriage schematic was spread out across the workbench, half-covered in coffee rings and fast-food wrappers from the overnight shift. Natasha was halfway through rechecking torque measurements when she realized how late it was.

She rubbed at her temple with the back of her wrist, exhaling long and slow. Willow stood nearby, watching her, curious, unsure.

Natasha appreciated her interest. Really, she did. But this..this par, was sacred. She never let anyone touch her car during recalibration. Not you. Not engineers. Not even herself without silence.

And so, when Willow quietly reached for a wrench, likely just wanting to help, Natasha paused.

“You don’t have to do that.” she said.

Willow blinked, immediately withdrawing. “Oh- sorry. I wasn’t trying to-“

“I know.” Natasha said. “It’s not about you. It’s just…this is the part I do alone.”

Willow nodded quickly, stepping back with both hands raised. “Understood. Sorry. I’ll go get some rest.”

Natasha nodded without looking up. “Goodnight.”

And just like that, Willow left. Natasha exhaled again. Sat back against the stool. Rolled her sore shoulder. It wasn’t until she looked at her phone, battery nearly dead, screen lit with the last text she sent to you three hours ago, that she felt it.

The hallway was quiet. Carpet soft underfoot. The whole floor wrapped in the kind of stillness reserved for dead-of-night regrets and things you can’t unsay.

The door opened, and Natasha stepped inside. She was exhausted. Her jaw ached from tension. Her back was tight from hours hunched over schematics. She was about to call out for you when she saw you:

Standing and waiting by the window. Arms folded. Hoodie on. Face red and wet and burning with something that was not sadness anymore.

It was fury. Natasha froze mid-step. “I’m so sorr-”

“You were working with her.”

Your voice was low. Controlled in a way that sounded dangerous. Natasha blinked. “What?”

“I saw you.” You took a step forward. “In the garage. With her. Just the two of you. Just like always lately.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “I wasn’t- We weren’t doing anything. We were fixing her car-“

“You were laughing.”

That stopped Natasha cold. Your voice cracked. “She picked up a wrench. You smiled at her. And I just…watched.”

“Y/n..” Natasha said slowly, stepping closer, palms half-raised like she was approaching something fragile. “That’s not what you think.”

“You never let anyone touch that car..” you said, voice rising now. “Not even me. Not ever.”

“She didn’t help. I told her not to. She put it down.”

“I don’t care if she built the damn gearbox, Natasha. You let her get close.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then why does it feel like it?”

The room went still. Natasha’s lips parted slightly, caught off guard. Your hands were shaking now. “I waited for you. I got dressed. I showed up for that stupid dinner because..for once I thought maybe you saw what’s happening to me.”

“I do see you-”

“No!” you snapped. “You see what you want to see. You see the teammate. The PR-safe, obedient, team-first girl who steps aside when you tell her to. You see the ghost of who I used to be before she walked in and made it easier to manage everything without me.”

“Stop it.” Natasha said sharply.

“You promised me I wasn’t fading..” you said, voice dropping into something broken. “And now you barely look at me.”

“Jesus.” Natasha muttered, scrubbing a hand over her face. “Are we seriously doing this again?”

You stood up. “Yes, we are. Because I keep seeing it. And you keep brushing it off like I’m making it up.”

“I’m not brushing anything off.”

“You’re defending her more than you defend me.”

That was it. Natasha stepped forward, calm gone, heat rising. “You don’t get to stand there and accuse me of betrayal every time I do my job, Y/n.”

“It’s not just a job anymore! You treat her like she’s..like she’s the future of this team!”

“She is part of the future!”

“And what am I?” you barked. “The past?”

Natasha didn’t answer. The silence was loud. Too loud. Your voice cracked. “You could’ve chosen me tonight. But you didn’t. Again.”

“I was going to.” Natasha shot back. “But I also have a team to run. A team with a mechanical failure that could’ve killed a rookie if I ignored it.”

“She’s not your responsibility-”

“She is, Y/n! That’s the entire point of my job-”

“You used to make time for me anyway.”

Natasha’s eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped, dark and dangerous. “You never let me finish a single thought without interrupting.”

You froze. “What?”

“Every fight. Every conversation. Every attempt to explain myself, you cut me off. You decide the narrative, and God forbid I don’t fit inside it.”

“Because I’m tired of rehearsed answers-”

“I’m tired of repeating myself!” Natasha shouted.

“I waited for you. Dressed up. Told myself maybe you’d actually prove me wrong tonight, and you didn’t even notice.”

“I noticed!” Natasha roared. “I noticed every goddamn second! But I’m not just your girlfriend, I’m running a goddamn team!”

Your voice cracked as you screamed back: “I NEVER ASKED YOU TO CHOOSE!”

“Yes, you fucking did!” Natasha shouted, louder than she meant to. “Every fight, every sigh, every passive-aggressive look when I talk to her, I hear it! You want me to put you first every single second or I’m the enemy!”

You were crying now. Fists clenched. Arms shaking. “I’m trying to protect myself!”

“From me?!”

You shouted: “From feeling like I don’t matter to you anymore!”

“You’re the most important thing in my life!”

“You don’t act like it!”

“Because I’m TIRED, Y/n! I’m so fucking tired of trying to prove I love you in ways that you immediately rip apart!”

Tears spilled over your lashes, but your voice just got louder. “BECAUSE I’M SCARED I’M LOSING YOU AND YOU DON’T EVEN NOTICE!”

“I’m here every night, and all I do is get screamed at!”

“Then LEAVE!”

“Maybe I should’ve!”

You went still. So did Natasha. The air punched out of the room. Natasha immediately stepped forward. “I didn’t mean that-“

But your body folded in on itself. You grabbed your phone, your jacket, your bag with shaking hands.

“Where are you going?” Natasha whispered, her voice finally cracking.

You didn’t even look at her. “My old room.”

“Y/n”

You turned, eyes full of hurt so deep it didn’t even look like anger anymore. “You keep saying I don’t let you speak. Fine. Here’s your silence.”

Door closed, and then it was just Natasha. Alone. Breathing hard. Regret coiling through her chest like smoke. And all the things she’d finally said, were exactly the ones she never wanted to.

In your room, you couldn’t stop pacing. The light in the room was dim, just the glow of a desk lamp you hadn’t turned off. Your racing jacket hung over the chair like a memory. You moved back and forth across the small space, your fingers pulling at your sleeves, jaw tight, breathing shallow.

Every echo of the argument replayed in your head, louder, harsher, more cutting. Natasha’s voice. Your own. The way everything just blew up.

“Maybe I should’ve!”

The sentence throbbed in your skull. You ran a hand through your hair and sat on the bed, only to get back up seconds later. You couldn’t sleep. You couldn’t even sit still. So you grabbed your phone. Swiped the screen. Opened Instagram. Mindless scroll.

Until..A story.

One of the drivers you spoke to last week. A short video of a black car idling under neon lights, tires hot with burnout smoke. A laughing voice behind the camera. Someone shouting “Let’s see what the boys really got tonight!”

Your breath caught in your throat. In the background, under the glow of streetlamps, a car. Not a race car, a street-tuned

You stared at it. They’d invited you.. You hadn’t said yes, but the invitation had stayed in your mind like a devil in the corner. Your fingers moved before your brain could catch up, and you were out the door in five minutes.

Natasha lay on her back in the bed, staring at the ceiling. The sheets were tangled around her legs, too hot, too cold, too wrong. She’d tried to sleep. Tried to silence the echo of your voice, but guilt lived in her chest like a second heartbeat.

“I’m scared I’m losing you!”

Natasha blinked into the dark. Then she sat up fast. She couldn’t leave it like this. She swung her legs out of bed, pulled on a hoodie and soft pants, grabbed her phone..still dead, and slipped out of the room.

The hallway was too quiet. When she reached your old room, she knocked once.

No answer. Twice. Nothing.

Her gut twisted, so she opened the door, and froze. The light was still on. The sheets a little rumpled. A half-drunk water bottle on the desk. But no you.

No shoes. No phone charger. No jacket. Gone.

“Shit.”

Her heart dropped. Just then, a voice behind her.

“Hey, Natasha?”

Natasha turned, jaw clenched. “Not now.”

Willow held up her hands. “Sorry. I just…thought you’d want to see this.”

She held out her phone, Instagram open. A paused story. Natasha’s blood went cold. The frame showed a street-lit parking lot. A car lined up with two others. And in the corner, barely visible but unmistakable, you, leaning against a car.

Natasha snatched the phone from her. “When was this posted?”

“Two minutes ago..” Willow said, worry in her voice now. “They tagged the location.”

Natasha didn’t answer. She was already walking.

“Where are you—?”

“To go get her.”

Willow called after her: “Should I tell security?”

“NO!” Natasha barked. “You tell no one.”

She was doing 80 in a 50 zone. The GPS pinged the pin on the map, a tucked-away industrial lot just outside the city. She knew the type: unregistered circuits, drivers with too much ego, zero control, no helmets.

Her grip tightened on the wheel. “Fucking hell, Y/n…”

Her jaw was locked. One hand clenched the steering wheel so hard her knuckles went white, the other flicked the high beams on and off through the darkness like a warning.

She wasn’t just angry. She wasn’t just scared. She was furious that you would risk everything, your life, your career, the team, just to escape for one night.

But even deeper than the rage, she was terrified. Because if something happened to you out there…

She’d seen what street racing could do. Crushed frames. Fire scars. Bodies slumped under tarps while a crowd looked away.

You knew better. And yet… Her phone lay useless in the passenger seat, still on Willow’s screen, the frozen Instagram story of the street, the smoke, the blur of a backup car she recognized like muscle memory.

Her thoughts twisted tighter with every mile: What if you raced? What if they crashed? What if you’re not answering because-

She pressed harder on the gas. The moment she turned into the lot, her heart dropped. Blue lights. Two ambulances. A police car blocking the exit.

Smoke still hung low in the air, mixing with exhaust and the sting of hot metal. One of the cars was nothing but a crumpled shell, front end folded in like paper. The second had wrapped around a streetlight, its rear half nearly torn free.

And worse? Your car wasn’t visible. People were shouting. Flashlights swung across the crowd. Medics were hauling stretchers. Phones were recording.

Natasha stopped the car in the middle of the road. Didn’t park, didn’t shut the door. She just ran.

“Y/n?!”

No one turned. She shoved her way past someone filming. “MOVE!” Her voice cracked with a sharp edge no one questioned.

She scanned the faces, but they all looked the same: drunk, dazed, anonymous. And then, she saw the wreck up close. Blood on the side window. A glove hanging from the mirror. A long strand of hair tangled in a shattered door hinge.

Her knees almost gave out. Her voice broke entirely. “No, no, no…”

She grabbed a man by the vest. “Who was in that car? Tell me who was driving!”

He looked at her, wide-eyed. “I-I don’t know, I- two, one of them was yelling, the other-“

“Was it a woman?! Did you see a woman?!”

And then, behind her, “Natasha?”

She turned like she’d been shot. You were there. Standing near a metal railing just beyond the chaos, arms wrapped around yourself, jacket pulled tight. Your face pale, eyes wide. Your voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha froze. For one breath. Two. Then she moved- no, she sprinted. And when she reached you, she didn’t say a word, just threw her arms around you, gripping you like she wasn’t sure if you were real or not.

You stumbled into it, arms pinned, breath caught. “Nat-”

“You don’t do that to me!” Natasha shouted, pulling back just far enough to look at you, eyes wet, voice ragged. “You don’t disappear and bring me to this- THIS!”

You tried to answer, but Natasha wasn’t finished. Her voice cracked harder. “I saw the wreck. I thought it was you. I thought I was going to walk over and find your-“ Her voice cut off. “I thought you were in there. I thought I lost you.”

Your eyes glassed over. “I didn’t race..” you whispered. “I-I was going to. But I backed out.”

Natasha just looked at you. “You don’t get to scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry..” you whispered, so small, so hollow, like it barely escaped your throat.

Natasha reached up, hand cupping your cheek roughly. “No. You’re not. Not yet. Not until you understand what it felt like to see that wreck and not know. Not until you know how fast I was willing to lose everything just to get to you.”

You said nothing. You just leaned forward. And Natasha pulled you in again, not soft..but safe.

——

The road was quiet now. The flashing lights had disappeared behind them. The industrial lot was miles back. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but the horizon was softening, that cold blue-gray of a day trying to start.

Inside the car, it was silent. You sat curled against the passenger-side door, legs pulled up, jacket zipped tight. You hadn’t said a word since they left. Just stared out the window, arms wrapped around yourself, your face unreadable.

Natasha gripped the wheel, knuckles tight, jaw clenched. The adrenaline was gone now, but the fear lingered. It pulsed under her skin like something sour. She could still feel the moment when she thought you were gone. When she saw that wreck and didn’t know.

She couldn’t shake it. They hadn’t spoken, not really. Not until you exhaled a shaky breath and broke the silence with the smallest voice:

“Can you pull over?”

Natasha glanced at you. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

That was it. Just no.

Natasha blinked, then nodded. She eased the car off the road and into a small dirt clearing. The gravel crunched beneath the tires as the car rolled to a stop.

The air was cold. You stepped around the front of the car, then just…stopped. Your back was to Natasha. You didn’t move for a long moment.

And then, your shoulders started shaking, and Natasha moved. She crossed the space between you and wrapped her arms around you from behind, pulling you in, holding you tight as you broke, really broke, the sobs silent at first, then raw and deep.

“I’m s-sorry..” you gasped. “I didn’t- I wasn’t thinking, I just- I needed everything to stop..!”

Natasha closed her eyes, holding you. Her chin rested on your shoulder. “You could’ve died.” she whispered, voice cracking. “And I wouldn’t have known until it was already too late.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t answer your phone. I saw the crash. I-” Natasha’s voice broke fully now. “I thought I was going to have to identify you.”

You turned in her arms. You looked like a wreck, hair wild, eyes red, face pale. But you were there.

“I didn’t race..” you said again. “But I almost did. I wanted to. I was two steps from getting in the car. And then they went ahead of me. And when they hit- I saw what would’ve happened. What could’ve happened.”

Natasha touched your cheek, gently this time. “And?”

“I felt sick. Like I’d swallowed all my anger and it turned to lead in my chest.”

You looked down. “I don’t deserve to be here with you.”

Natasha’s voice came quiet. “Don’t say that.”

“I scared you.”

“You did.”

“I scared myself.”

Natasha took your hand. “Then let’s just…sit for a bit, okay?” You sat for hours. The only time Natasha spoke again was just before they pulled into the driveway.

“If you want..” she said quietly, “I can cancel Willow’s contract.”

Your head turned slightly. Your brows furrowed.

“What?”

Natasha didn’t look at you. “If that’s what it takes for you to feel safe again. I’ll do it. No press. No drama. I’ll take the heat.”

You blinked. That offer hit hard, but not in the way Natasha expected. Because it wasn’t what you wanted. It never had been.

You swallowed, eyes back to the windshield. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight.”

Natasha finally turned her head. “Y/n-”

“Please.”

Your voice cracked, just slightly. “I just want to forget it for one night.”

Natasha exhaled. Nodded once. “Okay.”

You didn’t shower. Didn’t undress all the way. Just crawled beneath the covers, your back to Natasha’s chest, both of you fully clothed, like you were too tired to be anything but present. Natasha’s arm curled over your middle. Not pulling. Just being there. And you let it happen.

——

The curtains hadn’t been drawn, and soft sunlight warmed the edge of the bed. But that wasn’t what woke you. It was Natasha’s hand, moving in slow circles over your shoulder blade. Barely-there touches. Tracing the curve of old tension.

The sheets rustled. Natasha was already awake, and eyes open. You blinked, letting out a groggy sigh. Your voice was hoarse. “How long have you been doing that?”

Natasha smirked softly, voice still sleep-scratchy. “Long enough to know it still calms you down.”

Your lips twitched. “You trying to seduce me out of my trauma?”

“Maybe..” Natasha murmured. “Is it working?”

A soft hum escaped your throat, something between a sigh and a laugh. You rolled to face her, finally, and found Natasha’s eyes already waiting.

Then Natasha brushed her knuckles against your cheek. “It’s in the news.”

You didn’t flinch. “Figured.”

“We have a conference in three hours.”

You groaned and buried your face into the pillow. “Seduction cancelled.”

Natasha chuckled. “I’ll reschedule it. Post-conference. Post-disaster.”

You turned back toward her, eyes soft. “Thanks for not saying more last night.”

“I wanted to.” Natasha said honestly. “But it felt more important to just…stay.”

“You did.”

Your eyes met. There was a stretch of silence where neither of you moved, where the morning wrapped around you like a blanket heavier than the one on the bed.

Then you leaned forward, pressed your forehead to Natasha’s, and whispered, “I’ll talk. Just…not yet.”

Natasha nodded. “Okay.”

You stayed like that for a long time. The conference could wait. The news could wait. For now, there were only two people in a bed too big for the weight you’d both been carrying. And in the quiet, in the warmth, in the slow rhythm of being wrapped around each other, there was a peace that neither of you had known in weeks.

“Can we just stay here forever?” you mumbled. Natasha smiled, lips against your skin. “You give the press conference, I’ll fake our deaths.”

“Deal.”

Hours later, the mood in the debrief was cold, clipped, efficient. You sat stiff in the corner seat of the long debriefing table, shoulders squared like you could brace your way through the morning.

The mood in the debrief was cold, clipped, efficient. You sat stiff in the corner seat of the long debriefing table, shoulders squared like you could brace your way through the morning.

Natasha sat beside you, not across the table. Not near the monitors..Right next to you. The team was already assembled, Jared from PR, the strategy director, a few engineers, even Willow, seated opposite with her tablet tucked to her chest.

But Natasha hadn’t looked at anyone else since she walked in. Her chair was turned slightly toward you. One arm draped loosely over the back of your seat. She hadn’t said much, not yet, but she didn’t need to. Your hands stayed in your lap, twisting at the hem of your sleeve. Your voice hadn’t worked properly since you’d woken up.

“Let’s keep this clean.” Jared said. “The street race footage is circulating. No proof you raced, but public speculation is enough. We get ahead of it by framing it our way.”

Natasha’s jaw flexed. She didn’t speak. Jared kept going. “We’ll lean on team unity. Frustration under pressure. Personal responsibility. But we need empathy without opening you up to liability.”

You didn’t look up. Your eyes were on the edge of the table. Jared hesitated, then cleared his throat. “I’ve got talking points drafted. We’ll review together after. And for the joint interview-”

“Wait.” Natasha said suddenly, voice quiet but sharp. Her hand moved slowly, resting lightly on your knee under the table. Protective. Subtle. But there.

You froze. You hadn’t expected that. You didn’t know how much you needed it. Natasha didn’t look at the others. Only at you.

“She doesn’t need a script.” Natasha said. “She just needs space.”

Jared blinked. “We have to shape perception-”

“I’ll handle it.” Natasha interrupted. You turned your head, just slightly. And Natasha met your eyes. Held them. I’m not mad. I’m here. The message was silent, but loud enough to quiet the panic building behind your ribs.

You sat on the bench in the green room, holding a bottle of water you hadn’t opened. The questions would be brutal. The room would be hot. The world would be watching. You should’ve felt prepared. But your throat was tight.

“I’ll be next to you the whole time.” Natasha said, crouching in front of you. Her tone was softer than anyone else had heard it all week. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be honest.”

You looked down. “Honesty might get us dropped by two sponsors.”

“I don’t care about sponsors.” Natasha said. “I care about you.”

Your eyes burned, and then Willow stepped into the room. Quiet, hesitant. She didn’t say anything. Just gave you a look, not challenging. Not pitiful. Just… there.

You nodded once. It was the closest you’d come to a truce. Then you were called in. Three chairs. Three names. Three very different silences.

You sat with your hands folded on the table. Natasha to your right. Willow on the left. The first question came fast.

“You, last night’s footage paints a concerning picture. Were you involved in the race?”

You lifted your mic. Your voice came quiet but steady. “I was there. I didn’t race. But I shouldn’t have been there. It was a bad choice.”

Another reporter jumped in. “Do you feel like you’ve let down your team, especially the younger drivers?”

You exhaled slowly, but before you could answer- Willow leaned into her mic.

“No one in this room has the right to speak on what she’s carrying.”

Every head turned. Willow sat straight, eyes sharp.

“She’s not just a champion on the track, she’s the one who shows up first, who checks our setups, who stands behind us even when the world’s tearing her down. She’s not perfect. But none of us are. So if this team stands for anything, it’s for having each other’s backs.”

Silence. And then, almost imperceptibly- Your walls cracked. No one expected her to speak, least of all you. The next question came slower. Softer. About engine setups. Natasha took it.

But you barely heard it. Your eyes were still on Willow. She sat tall, hands in her lap, expression unreadable. Not proud. Not performative. Just… solid..loyal.

It hit you like a gut punch. I got her all wrong. You thought you’d been battling some threat. A rival. A replacement. But maybe- Maybe you’d been looking at the only person on this team who never judged you once.

The press was finally over. People scattered. Doors opened and closed. Noise began to fade. You ducked into a side hallway just off the main press room, needing a second to yourself. Your hands still buzzed, like the adrenaline hadn’t quite worn off. You leaned against the wall, eyes closed, trying to slow your breath.

Footsteps approached. You didn’t need to open your eyes to know it was Willow. But you didn’t move away. She stopped beside you, didn’t lean, didn’t fidget, didn’t speak.

Just stood there, and the silence stretched. “You didn’t had to do that.”

Willow shrugged. “Yeah, I did.”

You turned your head to look at her. Willow was staring at the opposite wall. Voice even, steady. “You were the first driver I ever watched. When I was fifteen, I clipped your post-race interview after the Monza win. Saved it to my phone.”

You blinked. “Seriously?”

Willow smiled a little. “You didn’t smile in it. You just looked exhausted. And real. I remember thinking, ‘That’s what I want. That kind of focus.’”

You looked down.

“I didn’t come here to replace you.” Willow said quietly. “I came here because I wanted to learn from you.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I thought you hated me by now..” you admitted.

“I thought you didn’t see me at all.”

A pause. Then Willow’s voice dropped, honest and a little raw: “You ever feel like if you mess up once, it’s all gone? Like…the place you earned suddenly slips out from under you?”

You turned to fully face her. “Yeah.”

Willow finally looked at you. “It feels like that all the time.”

You studied her. Saw the sharpness behind her eyes, brave, ambitious, terrified. Just like you once were. You stepped a little closer. “You’re doing good, Willow.”

Willow blinked. It was the first time she’d heard you say her name without tension. You let out a breath. “If anyone gives you shit out there, media, paddock, team, tell them to come through me first.”

Willow’s lip curled into a slow smile. “That includes you, right?”

You smirked. “Especially me.”

You both laughed..light, breathy. For the first time, it felt easy. Not perfect..but safe.

Back at the track, you stood by the window, barefoot, a hoodie slouched off one shoulder, hair damp from a shower you took without even realizing it. Your body ached, not from driving, but from everything else.

Behind you, the door clicked, and Natasha entered. No words. Just the familiar sound of her keys, her quiet footsteps, the small thump of her jacket being laid over the chair.

You didn’t turn. You didn’t need to. Natasha came up behind you slowly and wrapped her arms around your waist, resting her cheek against your shoulder.

The silence between you wasn’t heavy now. You closed your eyes. Let yourself lean back into it.

“Hey.” Natasha said softly. “About the interview.”

“She didn’t have to.”

“She meant it…She looks up to you.” Natasha continued. “And not just for the racing.”

“She doesn’t have to.” you said.

“But she does.”

Another pause. Then, you turned in Natasha’s arms and buried your face in her neck. Not crying, or breaking. Just holding on. “I was scared I wasn’t enough anymore.” you admitted. Your voice was so quiet it nearly disappeared.

Natasha pulled you in tighter. “You were never ‘enough’ to me because of what you did. You’re enough because of who you are.”

Your hands clutched the fabric of Natasha’s shirt. “I’m still figuring that out.”

“I’ll wait with you.” Natasha whispered. “As long as it takes.”

You nodded against her skin. You stood there for a long time. “I don’t want you to cancel her contract.”

Natasha paused. “You sure?”

You looked back over your shoulder. Willow was still in the hallway, arms crossed, now being roped into some joke by one of the engineers.

“She’s good. She’s herself. And that matters.”

A breath. “I want her here. Not just on the team. With us.”

Natasha didn’t say anything at first. Then she smiled. Something slow, relieved, proud. “She’s lucky.” she murmured. “To have someone like you on her side.”

You met her gaze. “She’s not the only one.”

Natasha leaned in, just enough to brush her hand along your wrist. It was a promise, and you..this time, believed it.

Three Months Later – Monaco GP Weekend – 2 Hours Before Quali

You leaned against the wall of the garage, helmet in hand, hair braided back tight, lips curved into a smirk. Across from you, Willow was pacing. Half-nervous, half-hyped. Her suit hung open at the top, gloves shoved into her back pocket. She turned suddenly and pointed at you.

“If I beat your sector time in turn nine, you’re buying drinks.”

You laughed. “If you beat my sector time in turn nine, I’ll name a cocktail after you.”

Willow grinned. “Deal.”

“Hey.” you added, tone lowering as you pushed off the wall. “You ready?”

Willow’s smile dimmed, replaced by something deeper. “Yeah. I think I am.”

You nodded, then reached out and bumped her shoulder gently, affectionate, solid. “Go make me proud, rookie.”

Willow rolled her eyes. “You literally call me that just to flex that I’m not a world champion.”

“You’ll get there.” you said, softer this time. “And when you do, I’ll still call you that.”

You both laughed. It was easy now. Natural. What once felt like pressure had turned into gravity, holding you together instead of pulling you apart.

“Willow’s been faster in the corners all weekend.” Natasha said, eyes on the map. “But your exit speed is giving her a gap on the straights. We’re debating who gets clean air for the second run.”

The room turned to you. You didn’t hesitate. “Give it to her.”

Everyone blinked. Natasha looked up. “You sure?”

You gave a small smile. “I’ve had the spotlight. Let the kid have a shot.”

Willow’s eyes widened. “Wait, are you being…nice to me?”

“I’ll deny it by dinner..” you said. Natasha’s eyes didn’t leave you. She was smiling, but her chest had tightened slightly. Not with worry, but with pride.

Willow had qualified P3. You, P4.

You were both happy..Genuinely happy. You raised your glass from across the table and yelled over the music, “TO THE ROOKIE!”

Everyone cheered. Willow pretended to bow, grinning like she couldn’t believe her own night. It made something in your chest soften. The kind of soft that used to make you ache. Now, it just felt good.

“You’re not just my teammate anymore, you know.”

Willow looked at you.

“You’re mine now.” you said. “Little sister I never asked for.”

Willow smiled wide, teeth showing. “I’ll take it.”

The party had quieted down. The city sparkled beneath you. Monaco felt like a dream in slow motion. You stepped outside, barefoot, hoodie over your race tee.

Natasha was already there, leaning against the railing, hair loose, a champagne glass resting beside her hand. You came up behind her and slid your arms around her waist, resting your head between her shoulder blades.

“You’re warm..” you mumbled.

“I’ve been standing in the same spot waiting for you to do exactly this.” Natasha replied.

You smiled into her back. “Guess I’m predictable now.”

“No.” Natasha said, turning to face you, eyes soft. “You’re just steady. And that’s everything.”

You stood like that for a moment. No tension, no fear.. Just love, real, grounded, still full of sparks, but quiet now. Like embers. Natasha tucked a hand against your jaw. “You’re not the girl I picked up after a crash anymore.”

“No?”

“You’re stronger. Calmer. Smarter.”

You smirked. “Still hotter, though.”

Natasha raised a brow. “Debatable.”

You laughed, and leaned in. The kiss was soft. Familiar. Slow. When you parted, you whispered, “You know I’d still choose you. Even if I wasn’t your driver.”

Natasha held your gaze. “I chose you long before you ever got in my car.”

The city glowed around you. The sound of the ocean below. The wind in your hair. Everything exactly where it belonged.

“You okay?” she asked.

You nodded. “I was thinking about where we started,” you said softly. “About how many times I thought I was going to lose all of this.”

Natasha didn’t flinch. “Me too.”

“And?”

She looked at you. “I didn’t. We didn’t.”

You leaned your head against her shoulder. “I don’t need to be the only star. I just didn’t want to burn out alone.”

“You never were.” Natasha whispered. “Not for one second.”

The city blinked quietly beneath you. And you stayed like that until the moon rose.

Together.

Still here.

Still holding on.

Still hers.

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buckyys-babydoll · 2 days ago

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daddy’s girl

pairing — congressman!bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary — past assassin. nowadays congressman. and yet, his most important business is home with his girls.

warnings — lots of fluff, sexual tension

wordcount — 1.373 words

authors note — bucky as girl dad, just has my heart.

The moment the keys land on the small shelf in your hallway, you count backwards with a smile plastered on your face.

Three.

Silence. For a moment, but you know it only needs a few more seconds before your house is filled with noises like you're taking care of a whole football team.

Two.

You get off the couch, making your way over to the door of the living room to see the scene unfolding.

One.

Your husband stands with his arms wide open in the hallway. His shoes and jacket still on, waiting. Just like you, with a wide grin on his face.

Zero.

“Papa!” The high-pitched, excited voice of your daughter comes from her room. He shouts, echoing through the hallway as she runs with heavy, thundering steps toward the stairs.

“Slow, trouble,” Bucky says, loud enough for her to hear. But she doesn’t care, her feet carrying her down the stairs as fast as possible while she giggles loudly. “Hi, trouble, we don’t want ya to get hurt.”

She huffs.

She got that from her daddy. And he knows.

Whenever you scold him for anything — playfully — he’s huffing. Just like your little daughter. A troublemaker through and through.

“Papa! I draws,” she tells him, her small arms stretched out as she jumps down the last few steps to land safely in his strong arms.

Every day when he comes home after work, you get to see the same sweet scene.

Since your little girl can walk, she runs to her daddy the moment she notices he’s home. And by now, she doesn’t even need long to find out if it was you doing dishes or him coming home.

“You were drawing, baby?” He mutters, kneeling down to put her down but still staying at one height with her.

She nods proudly while her small hands tangle into some of his long strands that fall into his hands and face.

You lean in the doorframe, your heart fluttering in your chest. Seeing your husband so happy, so carefree and full of love causes that tingling feeling in your stomach every single time.

A few years back, when you met Bucky, you wouldn't have thought he could look that happy and full of light. But there he is.

You never tried to fix him. You never will because you can't. But you also don’t want to fix him.

He's not some device that's broken and needs a repair. Bucky is a human being, with his past, with his scars — on body and soul. And though some nights his past is still haunting him and some nights he’s panting and shaking next to you, you never tried to do anything else but just be there for him.

To hold him in his darkest moments. To kiss away the tears. To let him listen to your breathing and your steady heartbeat.

Bucky never wanted someone to fix him. He just wanted someone to stay. And that someone is you, his beautiful and sweet wife and mother of the energy bungle that’s keeping him grounded.

“Draws mama ‘n you, papa,” she says proudly, wiggling out of his arms to run upstairs so she can get her drawings and show them to her dad.

Bucky chuckles softly, his ocean blue eyes trained on the girl before he looks around. His eyes catching you still standing in the doorframe with the beautiful smile all over your lips.

A smile he falls for. Every single day.

“Hi, mama,” he mutters, slipping out of his shoes before he takes a step closer and reaches out to bring his calloused hands to your waist.

A sigh escapes his lips when he pulls you close again to his firm chest. Your arms curling around his neck, playing with the long strands that curl slightly in his neck.

“Hey, handsome,” you chuckle, pecking his plump lips.

His sandalwood scent surrounds you just like his warmth.

“How was your day?” He asks, pecking your lips once more before he looks deep into your eyes.

His gaze is soft and loving, and you can’t help but smile even more. He really is the most beautiful man — gentleman. And he’s all yours.

“Good, little trouble kept re-watching your interviews until I got her to draw something for you,” you chuckle.

Your daughter was sitting excitedly in front of the television, following every one of her dad's movements. She even started to do some moves he always does, repeating his words even if she doesn’t really understand all of them.

“Just like her daddy,” Bucky mutters, turning his head to the stairs when he hears your daughter running through the floor once more. “I love you, pretty mama.”

With that he kisses your forehead and pulls back slightly. Just a moment after, your daughter jumps right back into his arms, showing him proudly the pictures she drew.

One of her running away with Bucky’s metal arm. One of them is standing in front of people and talking about ponies — at least that's what she tells him.

Bucky praises her for every drawing she shows him. The light in her eyes and the happiness written all over her face that her daddy loves her drawings so much make your heart flutter in your chest.

“Now, c’mon, let’s make dinner, trouble,” Bucky says, stroking her hair back before he gets up from where he was kneeling. “Hear your little tummy growling at me already.”

Trouble giggles, hugging his legs to step onto his feet. Bucky smirks, his strong arms wrapping around her shoulders as he walks with her toward the kitchen.

He doesn’t bother to change into a t-shirt, no, he stands with his suit pants and shirt in the kitchen. Making dinner with your daughter, not caring about some stains on his shirt.

Unfortunately, it makes him look even more sexy. Handsome. Beautiful. And all yours.

Bucky lifts your little girl up and sits her down on the counter, standing next to her while he looks over her shoulder at you.

You know you will get all the attention from him after dinner. Once the little girl is in bed, he’s all yours.

“What’s your tummy demanding, baby?” Bucky asks, his calloused fingers tickling over her small belly until she’s wiggling and trying to get away from his moving fingers. “Mhm, maybe some pizza. Or pasta. Or does that little belly of yours want veggies?”

“Nooooo, no veggies, papa,” she shakes her head. “I no like veggies. And mama likes no veggies.”

What a lie. You love vegetables. But your daughter just loves to pull you into everything she doesn’t like, so she’s not alone. Just like her daddy.

“Mama doesn’t like veggies?” Bucky grins, looking at you with a knowing smirk on his lips.

He's making you vegetable plates in the evenings because you prefer them over some sweets when you’re watching movies together. You adore vegetables, so you’re definitely the last one who would say no to them.

“Mhm, pizza it is then?” Bucky suggests, even if you already planned on having pizza anyway. But to see the bright smile on her face because you're making her favourite food makes his day.

She squeals when Bucky gets everything ready to make the pizza with her. Or put all the ingredients on top of it, even if it’s a whole mess of every food she likes.

Chicken. Salami. Surprisingly, some pepper.

“What about some cucumber?” Bucky suggests playfully as he cuts a slice and holds it in front of her mouth. Sneaking some pieces of food into her mouth is the most important part of making food together.

“Nu! I no like veggies, papa,” she shakes her head, pushing his hand away.

Bucky chuckles, offering you the little cucumber heart he cut. He knows she doesn’t like it. But he knows you do.

You smile, taking it and putting it between your lips, suckling softly at it until Bucky is groaning under his breath. His eyes darken for a moment before he tries to focus on making the food again.

“You’re in for trouble, mama,” he whispers, leaning toward you to bite into your earlobe. “Gonna have so much fun with my sweet and mighty wife.

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tracksidebaby · 3 days ago

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Was It Real?

Summary: Despite having millions of followers, a handful of albums and a PR team, the fans don't know much about your private life, something that your PR team thinks is a negative. Lando's problem is quite the opposite, the fans know too much about his life and his outings, his playboy image not doing wonders for his reputation. The solution to both problems? Fake dating.

Twitter /

Instagram /

liked by: lando, username1 and 52,202 others

ynsings: my heart!! this was the best tour of my life! You made it so perfect, thank you to everyone of you that came! i love you!

username18: get in the studio now

username91: im sobbing, best night ever

username32: anyone else notice lando in the likes

| username12: probably means nothing...right 👀

| username19: pls we all know lando sleeps around, it means nothing

ynhq: what a show

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, dannyricciardo and 81,203 others

lando: no reason

username72: oh this man is down bad

danielricciardo: no reason, my ass

| username12: what do you know

| username42: exposed

username54: anyone notice yn isn't in the likes though

username21: ok but im here for the pop queen x f1 driver ship

carlossainz55: slide 3 is interesting, no?

| username83: tell us what you know

username91: there's no way this isn't for yn

username36: okay sir, who are you trying to impress

| username75: im certainly impressed

Instagram /

liked by: lando, carlossainz55 and 83,123 others

ynsings: it was the laugh for me

username91: there is no way that's not lando right

| username57: it HAS to be

| username34: im not buying it

| username98: i ship it !!

username12: lando lando lando lando

username53: when i pull up to a 'who can like yn's post the quickest' competition but lando norris is already there

lando: 🧡

| username54: screaming

username32: ok but the caption, why is nobody talking about that

| username19: right the caption alone makes it obvious it's lando 😭

username23: the party boy and the reserved pop star, yeah im sat

carlossainz55: does this mean free tickets to the next concert? rebecca's birthday is soon

Instagram /

liked by: mclaren, carlossainz55, ynsings and 75,429 others

lando: got everything I need. Except her in the paddock

username72: i love them your honour

username 82: not lando getting p1 and mouthing 'for you' at the camera 😭😭😭😭

username: 30: as if people believe this

| username 20: right, its obviously a stunt

username 62: pr or not, that smile is real

ynsings: wish i could've been there to see you win 🧡

| mclaren: throwing the to do list away, the only important thing is getting you paddock passes !!!

| username 37: admin gets it

| username 60: imagine the celebration when shes there omg

| usernanme 13: not a want but a need

mclaren: double podium for the papaya boys

carlossainz55: i wish she was there too, you're sulky without her

| username 71: carlos is really just here to expose lando and i love it

Instagram /

liked by: lando, iamrebeccad, carlossainz55 and 98,082 others

ynsings: i don't ever tell you how i really feel, cause i can't find the words to say what i mean

username43: oh we are not ready for this one

username 19: SHES CRYING?!?! LANDO COUNT YOUR DAYS

| username 6: girl chill, we all know track nines are always emotional

username 47: omg lando songs !!!

username 4: this new era is gonna kill us

lando: im scared to ask which songs are about me

| username 5: lando panicking rn

| username 9: bro doesn't even know if he's done anything wrong and he'll be getting flowers sent her way

| username 23: the beauty and the downside of dating a singer, you're their muse

lando: the studio looks good on you. so does that hoodie.

iamrebbecad: angel, i am ready

username 37: need it rn actually

username 24: drop it

liked by lando, iamrebeccad and 89,192 others

ynsings: told him i'd only come if he podiumed

lando: that one was just for you, baby

| ynsings: does that mean i get to keep the trophy

| mclaren: no but it is an open invitation for you to visit us at MTC

| username 4: how is this the first time they're actually interacting with each other online

| username 3: fr yn usually just likes and swipes 😭

username 91: THE DRESS

username 23: he got p1 just for her, im sobbing

Instagram /

liked by: ynsings, mclaren and 82,329 others

lando: starting to think you're my good luck charm, @/ynsings

username: she has to come to every race

username: the way he runs straight to her after a win

username: p1 baby!!!

username: my parents

username: if they ever break up love isn't real

ynsings: i might just have to stick around then

| lando: sounds like a plan 🧡

Instagram /

liked by iamrebeccad, maxfewtrell and 101,324 others

ynsings: fuck, this ones gonna hurt

username: we are NOT surviving this new album

username: tell me my mom and dad didn't break up

maxfewtrell: idiots

| username: WOW

| username: max 😭

| username: damn max so public

username: oh i dont like this

username: this is the first time in six months im here before lando, i dont like it

iamrebeccad: here for you, angel

username: whats happening rn

username: dont do this to us

PART TWO HERE (girlies don't hate me for the two parter, i ran out of uploads! im publishing at the same time as this! i got you!)

200 notes · View notes

demie90s · 2 days ago

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Motivation

Paige Bueckers x Older!Fem!Reader

MASTERLIST | MORE

Summary: After twisting her ankle during practice, Paige ends up in your office—alone—on a quiet Friday afternoon. You’re the team’s physical therapist.

Genre: Smut, switch dynamics, slow burn, age gap, teasing, tension release, locked-door energy

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), dom/sub switching, oral (f. receiving/giving), fingering, use of praise/degradation, light restraint, teasing, swearing, age gap (Paige 21+, reader mid-30s)

Word Count ~ 4.6k

It was always the young ones who didn’t know when to quit. She came in late. Jersey barely on, shorts halfway down her hips, and that stupid smirk already on her face. One shoe in her hand, the other dragging across the floor like she forgot how to walk. I didn’t even bother to look up when the door opened.

“You limping for real this time, or is this just your dramatic ass needing attention?” She laughed. Loud and careless like she knew she could get away with it.

“Damn,” she grinned. “Can’t a girl come see her favorite PT?”

I marked the time—3:47—and finally gave her a glance. She was leaning against the doorframe like it was a performance, tall and golden, hair tied up in that messy bun she swears is effortless. Her lip was split, maybe from a screen, maybe from running her mouth. Probably both.

“You twist your ankle?” I asked, motioning toward the table.

“Yup.”

“Before or after your bullshit?”

She smirked again and shrugged. “During.”

She didn’t sit on the table. She climbed. Legs dangling, arms behind her, watching me like she wanted to turn this into something else. I was used to attention. I wasn’t used to twenty-three-year-olds thinking they could flirt their way out of rehab.

But Paige had always been different. Too relaxed. Too mouthy. Always had a smart comment and a smirk. She was reckless, and I didn’t entertain girls who didn’t understand the consequences of their behavior.

“You could’ve just iced it,” I said, snapping on gloves.

“Could’ve,” she echoed, “but then I wouldn’t have seen you.”

That earned her a pause. I raised a brow but didn’t respond. That was the problem with girls like Paige—they threw lines out without understanding who they were baiting.

“Put your foot up,” I told her.

She obeyed, but slowly. One leg bent, the other stretched toward me with just enough effort to remind me how long those legs were. She didn’t look away while I worked. I rotated her ankle, testing the response. She hissed but didn’t flinch.

I pressed a little deeper into the tendon. “You feel that?”

“Yeah.” She sucked in a breath. “Kinda like how it felt when I first—”

“Shut up.”

She blinked. “Damn. Alright.”

I didn’t mean it cruel. But she needed to know—this wasn’t a game.

“You’re not here to flirt, Paige.”

“Maybe not. But I am here.” She smiled slower this time.

I pulled back. Took off the gloves. Tossed them in the bin and met her gaze directly.

“You think you’re all that because you hit twenty-three. Because people scream your name in the stands. But you’re not. You’re just reckless and I don’t have time to fix more than what’s on your ankle.”

She didn’t speak for a second. “You always talk to your patients like this?”

“Only the ones who try too hard.” That shut her up. For a while.

She sat back, still watching me, but this time she didn’t speak. Her smile faded just a little. Her eyes stayed on me. Studying. Curious but unsure. I leaned against the counter, arms folded.

“Anything else hurting?” I asked. She shook her head.

“Good. Go home.” She hesitated.

“You always this strict?”

“You always this messy?” I reply quickly.

She bit her lip, held my stare for just a moment too long, then hopped off the table.

“See you Monday?” she asked.

I didn’t answer. She left anyway.

“You don’t have an appointment.”

She walked in like she lived here—blue sweats hanging low on her hips, Dallas Wings long sleeve a size too big, sleeves covering most of her hands. Her bun was low, clean, not a hair out of place. No limp. No brace. No ice. Just vibes and nerve. She shut the door gently behind her and sat down in the chair across from mine like we were picking up a conversation we never finished.

“I’m resting.”

Her voice was quiet, not smug like usual, but not embarrassed either. She looked tired—bored, maybe. Her face was neutral, unreadable, except for that tiny flicker in her eyes when I met them. Like she knew she was pushing something.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair, folding my arms. “Is this how you rest now? Storm into my space on your day off and take my chair?”

“I’m not storming.”

She sat back, spreading her legs the way athletes do when they’re trying too hard to look casual, arms still crossed like she needed a barrier between us. But her eyes never left mine, and her voice stayed low. Controlled. She wasn’t smiling. She wasn’t trying to be cute. And that made it worse.

“You got something to say?” I asked.

“I don’t know. Thought you might.”

She was poking at me again, in that smartass, roundabout way she always did. But this time she wasn’t grinning after it. She was still. Waiting. And maybe a little nervous. Not scared, just unsure. Like she finally figured out I wasn’t going to play this little game the way she wanted.

“You’re not limping. You’re not hurt. You’re not even scheduled to be here.” I gave her a long look, let my voice drop just a little. “So why are you in my office, Paige?”

She stared at me a second too long before answering. “Because I don’t wanna be anywhere else.”

That was honest. It hit a little too clean. I let the silence hang just long enough to make her shift in her seat.

“You know I’m not here for that,” I said quietly.

“I know.” She blinked once, slow. “I just needed to see you.”

“You needed to see me… or you needed to see if I’d finally give in?”I narrowed my eyes.

She opened her mouth to speak, then shut it. Her eyes dropped for the first time since she walked in, just briefly, before snapping back to mine. “Both.”

I watched her for a long moment. She wasn’t acting like the same Paige from last week—no jokes, no smirk, no big personality. This wasn’t cocky. This was a confession. And I wasn’t gonna let her get away with thinking this was sweet.

“..I’m too old for you” I said, pushing my chair back slowly. “You think because you made it to the league, you know what you’re doing. You don’t.”

“I’m not stupid.”Her legs tensed under the sweats.

“No,” I agreed, walking over until I was standing in front of her chair. “You come in here looking like you need something you don’t know how to ask for, and then stare at me like I’m supposed to give it.”

She sat up straighter, her throat flexing with a swallow. “I know what I want.”

“Then say it.” My gaze never left hers.

She took a breath like she was bracing herself. “I want you to touch me.”

“That’s not how you ask.”I leaned down, just enough to brush a knuckle under her chin.

Paige’s voice dropped, rough around the edges now. “Please.”

I didn’t respond right away. Just ran my fingers down the side of her neck and watched her breathe. Her pulse jumped against my fingertips, and I felt her thighs shift again.

She didn’t move when I stepped closer. Didn’t blink when I leaned down beside her, bracing myself on the arms of her chair, one on each side. I watched her eyes flick up to mine, wide and unsure now, like the air shifted and she couldn’t figure out how to breathe right.

“You look nervous,” I murmured, my voice warm and low against the curve of her cheek.

“I’m not.”

“You sure hon?” I tilted my head and let my lips brush the sharp edge of her jaw. “You shaking a little.”

She didn’t say a word. Just exhaled slow through her nose, chest rising in a soft stutter. I kissed her there—right below the hinge of her jaw—and her eyes fluttered. I didn’t rush it. Just took my time, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, tongue flicking once, humming deep when I tasted her skin. I could feel her hands twitch in her lap, desperate to touch, to grab, to pull me in.

I didn’t let her.

I pulled back and watched her—her lips parted, her eyes dazed, her body already leaning forward like she didn’t mean to. Like I broke something open.

Then I turned, walked away like nothing happened, and sat down on the edge of my desk. I leaned back on my palms, legs parted just enough, gaze locked on her.

She stood up slow, like her legs weren’t working right, and crossed the room in silence. Not because she was being careful—but because she needed me more than she knew how to say.

She didn’t speak when she stepped between my legs, eyes locked on me like she was scared I’d change my mind. But I didn’t move. I leaned back on my elbows, legs parted just enough for her to step in. I gave her the smallest nod, and that was all she needed.

Paige dropped to her knees like her body had been begging her to do it all week.

Her palms slid up my thighs slow, like she was touching silk, not skin. I felt her breath before I felt her mouth—warm and shaky, like she couldn’t believe I was letting her this close again. I expected her to fumble. She didn’t. Her lips brushed my inner thigh first, soft and reverent. Then my hipbone. Then the other. She wasn’t rushing.

But when her mouth finally landed where I needed her, I gasped like I wasn’t ready. It started as kisses—soft, open-mouthed, just shy of my clit. And then one right on it. A whimper slipped out of me before I could swallow it. She moaned too, like tasting me lit something up in her chest. And then it changed.

She didn’t lick like a girl guessing. She licked like someone who studied.

Tongue flat and slow at first, then circling, then pulling back to kiss me again. She was shaking a little, breathing hard, hands gripping my thighs like she needed the anchor. I felt her whimper against me, felt the tremble in her arms as her mouth worked, soft and messy, mouth wet and greedy.

“Fuck,” I whispered, my hips twitching up against her face. “Don’t stop—”

She didn’t. God, she didn’t.

She sucked my clit with her whole mouth, tongue flicking in little pulses until I was moaning for real, gripping the desk, eyes rolling back. I wasn’t calm anymore. Wasn’t in control. My thighs were trembling, grinding against her face, and she just took it. Let me move, let me moan, let me chase it.

“Paige—” I gasped. “Baby, I—”

She groaned into me like that name did something to her and kept licking, faster now, almost feverish. I came with my hand over my mouth, thighs squeezing around her head, and she moaned like she was the one getting off.

She kept going, licking slower now, messier, like she wanted to taste every drop. She was grinning when she finally looked up at me. Her mouth slick, her eyes bright, proud like she just passed a test I didn’t know I was giving.

I was still breathing heavy, legs still open, body limp, and she just stood up between my legs and leaned in to kiss me. Deep. Wet. Letting me taste myself on her tongue while she slid her hands under my thighs and pulled me higher onto the desk like I weighed nothing.

“You good, mama?” she whispered, lips dragging down my neck.

I didn’t even have the breath to answer. But that moment didn’t last. There was a knock—two hard taps at the door that made both our heads snap toward it. I panicked. Skirt down. Shirt pulled. Wiped my mouth, wiped my neck, heart racing.

Paige? She just licked her lips, wiped her chin with the sleeve of her Dallas tee, and smirked.

“Door’s unlocked,” she called, already halfway past me. She brushed her hand over my shoulder like nothing happened and walked out the room calm as hell—smelling like sex and satisfaction.

I was still sitting there trying to remember how to breathe.

I hadn’t touched her in weeks.

Ever since that night in my office—the one where I lost my damn mind and let Paige Bueckers make me come on my own desk—I’d been keeping my distance. Letting the other PTs take her appointments. Letting her sit across the room during postgame stretches. Letting her miss me.

I told myself it was for her own good. She was young. Newly pro. Figuring herself out. She didn’t need to get attached to someone like me—older, steady, not interested in playing with girls who didn’t know what they wanted.

But every time I looked at her, I saw the difference.

The way she didn’t laugh as much during taping. The way she avoided eye contact. The way her gaze would trail toward my station like it physically hurt her not to speak.

She wasn’t sulking. She was simmering.

So when we hit the road for our three-game trip, I thought maybe she’d cool off. That being around her teammates would distract her. That she’d move on.

But tonight? The way she looked after the game—quiet, locked in, not even talking shit like she usually did? That was a different kind of focused. I should’ve known then. Should’ve locked my door.

I’d already showered. My suitcase was tucked open near the wall, and my hoodie still smelled like eucalyptus and clean linen. I had my legs propped up on the desk by the window, scrolling, earbuds in. It was late—past eleven. Lights low. City noise humming outside the thick glass.

I didn’t even hear her knock. I heard the click of the door unlocking from the inside.

I turned, confused, only to see her—standing in the entryway in those loose navy sweats and a gray Wings long-sleeve that hung off one shoulder. Her hair was pulled into a low bun, barely tamed, face clean and tired but still stupidly beautiful.

I took out one earbud.

“Paige—”

She shut the door behind her. No words. No smile. Just walked in like she had every right to. Her eyes never left mine.

“I tried to wait,” she said finally. Her voice was soft. Calm. Dead serious. “I gave you space. I did the professional thing. I let the other staff touch me. Work on me. But none of it helped.”

She moved closer.

“You won’t talk to me. You won’t look at me. And I’m trying real hard to be respectful here, but it’s getting hard as fuck to breathe without you.”

I blinked. Swallowed. My chest was tight.

“Paige—”

“No,” she cut in, firmer this time. “You don’t get to say my name like that. Like I’m still some kid. Like I didn’t have you shaking for me the last time I touched you.”

She reached me then—slow but sure—and pulled the other earbud out herself. My legs dropped from the desk on instinct. Her fingers grazed my thigh, but she didn’t push. Just stood between my knees, eyes dark with need.

“I know what I want,” she said. “And it’s you.”

I could’ve said something. Anything. But the moment dragged, and I didn’t stop her when she leaned down and kissed me. Not gentle. Not rushed. Just right.

Her tongue brushed mine slow, letting me taste the heat she’d been holding back all trip. I didn’t even remember standing until she was walking me backward toward the bed, pulling my hoodie off like it never belonged on me.

“Lay down,” she whispered, hands on my waist. I did.

She crawled over me like she was taking her time unwrapping a gift. No need for hurry. No fear. Just a calm sort of possession that felt hotter than anything we’d done before. Her mouth went to my neck, dragging heat along my collarbone, her hand sliding up the inside of my thigh.

“Still wet for me?” she asked against my skin.

I didn’t answer.

She kissed lower. My chest. My stomach. Her hands hooked under my shorts, and I lifted my hips without being told. They were gone in one pull, and her eyes dropped between my legs like she was starving.

Her mouth was on me before I could blink—hot, wet, focused. Her tongue moved slow at first, just enough to make me gasp. Then she sucked, soft and open, before dragging her tongue right across my clit and moaning into me.

“you’re not running.” She murmured,

I damn near arched off the bed. She was warm, wet, steady. Her tongue moved in deep strokes—no teasing, no hesitation. I gripped the sheets as her mouth worked me over, slow and filthy, eyes locked on mine the whole time.

“Keep looking at me,” she whispered, her voice low between licks. “I want to see you cum.”

She sucked my clit gently, then hard enough to make me moan and grind into her face. I felt her arms tighten around my thighs, holding me in place like she needed the pressure just as bad. Her tongue flicked, circled, pressed until my legs were shaking and my chest was rising in short, uneven gasps.

“Shit, Paige—baby—”

She groaned against me at the sound of her name, speeding up, grinding her face into me like she couldn’t get close enough. I came hard, mouth open, body trembling beneath her, and she didn’t stop. She just kept licking, kissing, moaning softly like she was addicted.

Then she climbed up slowly, settled her weight between my legs, and leaned down to kiss me. Deep. With tongue. Letting me taste myself on her lips like it was nothing. She grinned against my mouth, hands sliding under my shirt.

“Don’t go quiet now,” she whispered, dragging the hem up.

She was gone for maybe four minutes.

And in those four minutes, I paced the room, half-naked, my thighs still wet, nerves lighting up like warning signs. I could still feel her mouth on me. Still taste her kisses on my tongue. I should’ve pulled my damn shorts back on. I should’ve locked the door. I should’ve—

Click.

The door opened like a shift in gravity. She walked in with her hoodie sleeves pushed up, eyes heavy, calm, and lethal. In her left hand? A small black duffel bag she dropped on the bed without saying a word.

I stared.

“You packed that?” I asked, breath shallow.

“I had a feeling.”She nodded once, digging inside.

That was all she said before she pulled out the harness—black, adjustable, already laced with confidence. My lips parted, but no sound came. I was still barefoot, still damp between the legs, and suddenly so still.

“You done running?” she asked, quiet.

I couldn’t answer. I didn’t have it in me. So I sat on the edge of the bed, heart pounding, and watched her strip her sweats like she was just getting comfortable. Nothing slow. Nothing showy. Just stripped down to black briefs and muscle memory, then stepped into the harness like she’d been doing it her whole life.

And I swear—when she buckled it low on her hips and adjusted the base with practiced fingers? My knees damn near buckled.

She didn’t flex. She didn’t rush. She just crawled onto the bed with that same deadly focus she always had on the court. Except this time? Her target was me.

“Come here,” she said, voice low.

I moved before she finished the sentence. Climbed into her lap, straddling her thighs, arms loosely hanging on her shoulders as the tip of the strap pressed between us. She leaned back against the pillows, her hands gripping my waist, steadying me.

I dragged against her, slow, testing the length of it. My breath hitched.

“You good?” she asked, one brow lifted.

I nodded, too gone to speak. She watched me—patient but smug. I rocked once, dragging my clit along the base, and her eyes locked on mine like she could feel every twitch in my hips.

“Damn,” she murmured. “You really needed this, huh?”

I tried to say no. I really did. But I rolled my hips again—slow, then deeper—and my moan betrayed me. She smiled, and her grip on my waist tightened.

“You look so good like this,” she said, lifting into me. “So fuckin’ pretty when you let me take care of you.”

And then she angled her hips up, one smooth thrust until the strap pushed inside me, hot and perfect. I gasped. My nails scraped down her back.

“Oh fuck—Paige.”

She didn’t answer. Just kissed me. Deep. Greedy. Her tongue sliding into my mouth like she owned me now, like this was her win. And it was.

She started slow, guiding my hips, letting me adjust. Every time I sank back down, her hands flexed on my ass, her mouth dragging along my jaw.

“You feel so good,” she breathed. “So wet for me.”

I moaned. Loud. Sloppy. She pulled back just enough to see my face.

“Ride it.”

I did. I moved, hips circling slow, then bouncing, gasping as the strap dragged against every sweet spot inside me. Paige didn’t move at first. She let me work, let me lose rhythm, let me fuck myself on her lap while her hands stayed right there—holding, watching, proud.

When I started to tremble again, when the heat started building too fast, too soon, I grabbed her shoulders for balance.

“Paige—shit—”

She snapped her hips up into me, fucking me from under, making me cry out.

“That’s it,” she whispered, her lips grazing my throat. “Take it. Show me who you belong to.”

I broke. Legs shaking, arms tightening around her neck as I came hard—moaning into her chest, thighs locked around her hips like I was afraid she’d stop.

She kept fucking me through it, slow now, soft groans slipping from her mouth.

“Can’t stop now,” she said, sweat on her chest. “You said you could go more rounds, right?” I whimpered, barely able to nod.

The lights were off. Curtains drawn. AC low and humming. The only sound in the hotel room was the low bass of a playlist still looping from your phone on the nightstand—soft, slow, something sensual that had no business setting the tone the way it did.

I was sprawled out, legs open, hips barely hanging off the edge of the bed, still catching my breath from the last round.

Paige stood at the foot of the bed—sweat on her jaw, strap slick and glistening, still in the harness. Her long-sleeved tee had been peeled off hours ago, discarded somewhere by the door. The sports bra underneath was soaked through, clinging to her chest like she’d been running drills, not fucking me through the mattress.

I tried to move. Shift a little. Pull myself up. But Paige stepped forward and pressed her hand to my sternum, palm flat, keeping me down.

“You not done,” she said quietly. Her voice was calm. Even. But her pupils were blown wide and her lips were still swollen from kissing me breathless.

I blinked up at her, exhausted, raw. “Paige…”

“You said you could handle it.”

I didn’t remember saying that, but at this point, I’d believe her if she told me I asked for this in writing.

She leaned forward, slid her hands under my thighs, and flipped me—one smooth motion until I was on my stomach, arms braced under me, legs pulled up just enough.

And then she climbed on top. Her chest pressed to my back, one hand pinning my wrists above my head, her other guiding the strap back inside me. I gasped, arching.

“No, no,” she murmured into my neck. “You stay right here.”

She fucked me from behind, hips rolling slow, angle deep. Every stroke had purpose. Every movement was like she’d studied me. I couldn’t breathe right. Couldn’t speak. I was already gone.

“You like that?” she whispered, lips brushing the shell of my ear.

I nodded, mouth open against the sheets.

She kissed the back of my neck. “Use your words, baby.”

“I like it,” I breathed, hips rocking back into her. “I like it so much.”

Her grip on my wrists tightened slightly, grounding me while her other hand slipped under me—fingers finding my clit, rubbing slow as she kept stroking deep.

“You close again?” she asked, her breath hot and steady.

“Yes—fuck—Paige—”

She hummed, low and satisfied. “Good. Don’t hold back. I want it all.”

And when I came this time, it wasn’t soft. It was sharp, back-arching, gut-punching. I screamed her name. My legs trembled so bad she had to hold me up, keep me from crumbling beneath her.

She kept grinding into me slow, the base of the strap dragging against her own clit, her moans ghosting across my spine.

“You’re so fucking pretty when you fall apart,” she said. I whimpered into the pillow.

Then she pulled out, slow and gentle, helped me turn over, and guided me back into her lap. My legs hung over her thighs, arms around her neck, head on her shoulder.

“You good?” she whispered, kissing my jaw.

“I can’t feel my legs.”

She chuckled, hands tracing lazy circles along my thighs.

“Good,” she said, voice smug and warm.

The curtains were cracked just enough for the sun to sneak through—streaks of soft gold cutting across the hotel room like a spotlight on all the wrong decisions. My mouth was dry. My thighs were sore. My body felt heavy, like I’d been hit by a truck. A very specific, Paige-shaped truck.

I was slumped on my stomach, sheets barely clinging to my waist, one leg kicked out of the covers like my whole body had clocked out mid-shift. I groaned into the pillow.

From across the room, I heard a low laugh. That cocky, way too satisfied for someone who should still be sleeping laugh.

“Damn,” Paige said, voice husky with sleep and smug with pride. “You really folded like that?”

I cracked one eye open and tried to lift my head. Tried.

“Don’t talk to me,” I muttered, jaw barely moving.

She padded over—barefoot, in those damn Dallas Wings shorts and nothing else—and sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers ran gently along the back of my thigh, slow and featherlight. Teasing.

“You alright, grandma?”

“Paige.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

I opened one eye and glared. She just grinned wider, teeth flashing like she wasn’t the exact reason I couldn’t feel my hip bones.

“I hope your little rookie ass pulls a hamstring at practice,” I muttered.

She leaned down, kissed the back of my shoulder, and whispered, “Still worth it.”

I couldn’t help it—I smiled. Just a little. The nerve of her.

“Bet you won’t ignore me again,” she added, crawling up beside me, her body warm against mine.

“I might. Just to see if you do it twice.”

She kissed my temple, then flopped beside me with a soft oof, her arm slung across my back like we weren’t both wrong for this.

“You couldn’t handle this young buck,” she murmured, face buried in my neck.

I rolled my eyes, too tired to argue. “Next time I’m on top.”

“Uh-huh,” she said, already laughing.

@xxsnowxx213 @draculara-vonvamp @kcannon-1436-blog @let-zizi-yap @perksofbeingatrex @soapyonaropey @julieluvspb @non3ofurbusiness @kcannon-1436-blog

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illbegottenfaith · 1 day ago

Text

fml (a Manchild by Sabrina Carpenter inspired fic)

you rope theo into going to a party with you and accidentally fall for his juvenile mannerisms (theo nott x ravenclaw!reader)

a/n - decided to polish this up and publish it in honour of the man's best friend announcement!! I know how controversial the title and cover art has been but i have Thoughts about it if anyone wants to hear them/discuss hehe (I rlly need to stop using this as my sabrina sideblog help) also lets pretend u can actually see shit from alllll the way up in the Ravenclaw towers and the 'decent' joke is (quite obviously) plagiarised from tumblr I think, I did not come up with that lmao

tropes/warnings - fluff, comedy, technicallyyy fake dating? but it's not the focus here

word count - 3.7k

taglist - @kandralice @justme989898 @iamheretoread1234 @allie-sturns @hzdhrtss @friedfreyfries @bushnellswife @rose-of-the-grave @thaliashifts @pariahsparadise @babene-e @fratbrochrisgf @user089167

Theo pushed his hair off his clammy forehead for the hundredth time that morning. He was long overdue for a haircut he kept forgetting about except on mornings like these, when his overly long fringe kept falling in his eyes during the laps he ran with the rest of the Quidditch team around the perimeter of the pitch. It was barely 9 am when most students were still enjoying breakfast. It was far too early for him to already be sweating buckets.

Theo slowed to a stop, pushing his hair back once again as he seriously considered ripping it from his skull. He scanned the pitch. It was barely 9 am, and he could hear the usual faint murmur of students having breakfast in the Great Hall. There was a diffused quality to the light of the cloudy day and the grass was still damp with morning dew. It was peaceful. Typical. Calm.

And yet.

Theo looked around, an uneasy feeling in his gut. Something felt...off. He gently rolled out the ankle he had strained last week, starining his ears. It felt fine. It didn't even ache from the humidity of the morning. He watched his teammates jogging along the other side of the field. The pitch was quiet, but no quieter than it usually was. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, the way they did in Quidditch games when he would sense rather than see a Bludger coming his way.

Mattheo jogged past, pausing briefly.

"Ankle?" he asked breathlessly.

Theo shook his head mutely, still thinking hard to the sound of Mattheo's panting as he caught his breath. Just as he gave up on figuring out the strange feeling, he noticed Mattheo frowning at something over his shoulder.

Theo was beginning to hear a set of quick, light footsteps distinct from the rest of the team's sluggish yet relentless footfalls. He turned and immediately got barrelled over by a blur of white and navy blue, knocked flat on his back with a tongue stuck down his throat.

Blinding sunlight rushed in as the figure pulled away. Dazed, Theo was distantly aware of Mattheo gawking at the sight while someone told him off in a waspish tone. He regained his wits just as Mattheo jogged off, sniggering under his breath. Tentatively, he turned his sight to the Ravenclaw girl peering down at him.

"If anyone asks, we were celebrating our 1-month anniversary last night."

Theo shut his eyes briefly, willing himself not to pass out. There was an awful ringing echoing in his skull. Was this what a concussion felt like? And what was that about a one-month -

His eyes popped open despite the searing pain. "Month?"

The girl gave him an impatient look. "Yes. As far as anyone is concerned, we've been dating for the past month."

Theo gaped at you. He had to be hallucinating. How much pain medication did he take last night?

"We have?"

Her lips thinned into a line.

"I can't tell if you're being purposefully dense," she muttered, sitting back on her heels. Theo propped himself up on skinned elbows.

"You, and I," her silhouette repeated, stabbing a finger between the two of you, "one month."

Theo squinted up at her through the sunlight she wasn't blocking. "W-"

"One. Month." she repeated firmly as she stood, brushing imaginary dirt off her pants. She scanned the pitch casually, appraising the rest of the team with a mildly critical look.

"That is all. Enjoy your laps."

Theo watched her walk off back to the castle, befuddled.

After feeding Madam Pomfrey some fib about running laps the wrong way, Theo had his elbows bandaged up. He was barely in time for Ancient Runes and was too restless to pay attention. By the time class finished, all Theo wanted was to tuck into a warm, comforting lunch, even if it was a little early.

He walked into the Great Hall and there you were, like a bad penny, already halfway through a bowl of soup at the Ravenclaw table.

He visibly winced. You had the gall to look cluelessly concerned.

"Merlin, what happened to your elbows?"

Theo just about had an aneurysm.

"You," he forced out through clenched teeth. "You happened."

You looked genuinely surprised.

"Don't tell me you're still upset about this morning?" When Theo remained stony-faced, you rolled your eyes, turning back to your lunch. "God, that was so three hours ago."

Theo stared at you, speechless.

"Don't you think you owe me some kind of explanation?"

You glanced at your watch impatiently. "Fine. I've got 20 minutes before Transfiguration anyway. Sit down."

He didn't. You cleared your throat anyway.

"So, I have this stupid roommate who will not get off my back about bringing someone to this 80s-themed party her cousin's hosting at Hogsmeade this weekend, because she's convinced I'm still hung up on my ex from 5 months ago."

You didn't sound like you were going to be done anytime soon. Theo reluctantly slid into the seat opposite yours.

"Are you still hung up on your - ?"

You nodded, waving a hand carelessly. "Oh, yeah, totally. The pining - it's a whole thing. Don't worry about that. Anyways, she was going at me again last night, and the only way I could get her to shut up was to say that I was bringing someone. So, obviously, she asked who, and - now this part is kind of your fault - and I looked out the window, and there you were, decked out in your Quidditch gear and whatnot, and I thought you were as good of a choice as any. So I said I was bringing you."

Theo blinked at you.

"You told your roommate you're bringing me to a party I'm only just hearing about."

"Mhm."

"And it's my fault," Theo continued tonelessly, trying to make sense of what you were saying, "for going to Quidditch practice...as part of the Quidditch team."

You shrugged. "Yeah, I 'spose. Anyway, she was like, no way, and I was like, way, and I knew she wouldn't believe me if I said we had only just started seeing each other, so I had to say it was, like, our one-month anniversary. But she was still watching me like a hawk, so I had to spend half the night outside of our room. And I think she could still tell I was lying - "

"Still? Are your lies always this elaborate?"

You looked a little embarrassed. "I might have a bit of a problem with...telling the truth, or the whole truth, sometimes." You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear.

"Anyway, I had to get to you before she did, but you both take Ancient Runes together on Thursday mornings, so I had to catch you before then, so..." you gestured vaguely. Theo raised his eyebrows.

"That's it? She's never seen the two of us in the same room, but my word is enough to convince her we've been dating?"

"Oh, please. She hardly sees me. I've got quite a bit on my plate."

Theo eyed your book bag, bursting at the seams with textbooks and parchment.

"I'll say. When do you even find the time to, er, pine after your ex?"

You shot him a withering look. "Whose side are you on, anyway?"

"Right now? The person who didn't tackle me at eight in the morning."

You rolled your eyes. "I can't believe you're still going on about that," you muttered. "It wasn't even eight."

You continued eating your food while Theo mulled over your story. His mind drifted to your face, to the sharp, strong cut of your nose and the plain, straightforward edge to your words. You had a bit of a problem with the truth, there was no denying that, but something about your story didn't seem fabricated or exaggerated. It was a largely unappealing scenario that would only be too easy to refute, which made it all the more convincing.

Theo tilted his head. Huh. Maybe it was the concussion talking, but you were starting to seem a little less insane. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts.

"Why don't you tell your stupid roommate to pi- erm, go away?"

You glared at Theo.

"Stupid Roommate is my best friend. I would kill for her."

It was like he couldn't say anything right. Theo sighed, massaging his temples.

"...okay. What's stopping me from telling her I don't know you?"

You put on a pained look.

"Babe. You can't be saying those things about your one-month girlfriend."

"You're not my - "

"Besides," you continued, finishing up your soup, "we've been holding hands for, like, the past fifteen minutes."

Theo glanced around at the students filing into the Great Hall for lunch, some of whom were eyeing your clasped hands with interest. He yanked his hand away.

"So good luck explaining that to...literally everyone here." You stood, gathering your things. Theo marvelled at the resilience of your book bag when it didn't split open as you pulled it up to your shoulder.

"I'm off for Transfiguration. See you Saturday at 6."

And when you bent to press a kiss to Theo's cheek, he didn't bother leaning away.

Theo was staring into a mirror, hair slick with gel, trying to fix this cowlick that kept falling right in the middle of his forehead. Around him, chaos ensued.

Enzo was studying a retro muggle video game for his Muggle Studies project and, naturally, Mattheo had to screw with him as much as he could. All the while, Blaise was yelling at them to take their scuffle elsewhere, telling them off for crumpling the plastic sheaves of his good binder. Somewhere in the background, there was a knocking sound. Did ankle sprains cause tinnitus?

Empty weekends like these were always rough, but they were especially so when all four of the boys were cooped up together. The air outside was heavy and sticky with the week-long drizzle that refused to let up, making the walk to Hogsmeade downright unbearable.

Theo shook his head, separating his curls. The knocking got louder. It was definitely real, presumably by someone coming to tell them to keep it down. The cowlick fell stubbornly against his forehead once again. From outside the bathroom, there was a violent crash.

That was it. After multiple warnings and 'don't make me come over there's, Theo had finally reached the end of his fuse. He stepped out of the bathroom.

"Oi! Cut it out, all of you. Mattheo, give Enzo his game back. Enzo, go sit in the corner 'til you've calmed down. Blaise, get over yourself and get a new binder."

The thudding on the door increased in volume.

"And somebody get the fucking door!"

Theo retreated back into the bathroom. The noise immediately ceased. He sighed in relief. Finally, some peace and quiet.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

"Theo, someone's here for you."

Theo fiddled with his hair, only half-listening. "Tell them to go away."

"It's a girl."

"Tell her to go away."

"Are you decent?"

Theo looked up at the sound of the striking voice. He had only heard it a couple of times, and never before this week, but it had the kind of piercing quality that made it stand out in a crowd. He glanced at the clock. You were 15 minutes early.

And too impatient to wait for a reply, apparently. The door swung open to reveal you, dressed in frills and ribbons with gigantic hair, carefully shielding your eyes, next to a shit-eating-grin-wearing Mattheo.

"Is he decent?" you asked Mattheo.

"Morally? Debatable. But he has pants on if that's what you're asking."

You dropped your hand. Your eyes swept his outfit. You didn't look too pleased.

"You're not even dressed yet?"

Theo looked down and scanned the very outfit you were eyeing disapprovingly.

"This is what I'm wearing."

He looked up and caught a glimpse of your face.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

You looked visibly aggrieved by his fashion choice.

"It's so...boring. I said '80s' and you thought black shirt, black jeans?"

"What's wrong with a black shirt, black jeans?"

"Nothing. Unless you're going to an 80s-themed party."

You stepped away from the bathroom's threshold while Theo frowned over what he had thought was a simple, perfectly acceptable outfit.

"This was the best I could come up w - yeah, sure. Go ahead. Go through my clothes. Turn my wardrobe upside down. Go right ahead. It's not like this is my room. Or my clothes. Merlin forbid I claim an inch of this space as m- "

"Are you done?" You asked, extricating yourself from the recesses of Theo's wardrobe. He couldn't tell if your hair looked more or less frizzy. You held out a frilly, powder blue suit Mattheo had bought him as a gag gift for his seventeenth birthday.

"No."

"Just try it on!"

"Absolutely not."

"Come on, please? I probably won't even like the look of it."

"Brilliant. Then what I'm wearing is perfect."

You gave him a look. "But I have to make sure that I won't like it."

Between his roommates and you, Theo's resolve was worn out. Grudgingly, he changed into the suit. If anything, his cowlick made him look even more stupid in this get-up.

"You look so much better," you chirped happily, approvingly examining the patterned insides of the jacket's pockets. "Don't you think?"

Theo narrowed his eyes at your too-innocent smile.

"I think," he said, "you're wasted in Ravenclaw."

"It's just one night, Theo," you continued, like you hadn't heard him. "I don't even have a camera or anything."

"But I do. Smile."

Theo was blinded by a flash from Mattheo's camera from behind you. He scowled at Mattheo, who was too busy pulling out the printed polaroid. He eyed it with satisfaction as it began to develop. "I always knew this day would come," he murmured.

Meanwhile, you doubled your wheedling efforts.

"Please? For me? The girl who knocked you down in front of all of your teammates and won't hesitate to do it again?"

Theo glared at you. "You're not helping your case, you know."

But you must have been doing something right, because five minutes later, he was waving goodbye to his roommates in the powder blue suit. The two of you walked up to the castle's gates into the Muggle car Theo had rented for the evening. As Theo turned the key in the ignition, adjusting his mirrors and seat, you reached over to fix his hair.

"Don't touch my - " Theo swatted your hand away, warily checking his reflection in the rearview mirror. Shockingly, his cowlick was gone. His hair was exactly how he wanted it.

"Long hair suits you. Did you know that?" you said, following his gaze into the mirror, in that assertive, know-it-all tone of yours, like it was a universally agreed-upon fact that Theo looked good with long hair. Grumbling, Theo shifted the gearstick into drive, turning down the road to Hogsmeade.

"Can I try?" you asked for the sixth time, perched on the boot of the Cadillac convertible. Theo pushed his fringe out of his eyes, feeling the back of his neck grow moist.

"I've almost got it," he replied from somewhere underneath the hood for the sixth time.

You rolled your eyes, fanning yourself with a magazine you had found in the backseat. Halfway to Hogsmeade, the car decided to sputter and choke to a stop. What Theo had initially diagnosed as a five-minute problem had grown into a twenty-minute problem and showed no sign of ending.

“I thought you said it was the carburettor,” you called out, already feeling sluggish in the heat of the setting sun.

“I said I think it’s the carburettor.”

You rolled your eyes.

There was a loud clang, a muffled curse, and an alarming hissing sound. Sighing, you abandoned your magazine and hopped off the boot. You came around the hood to see Theo shaking out his hand, like he had been burned, swearing colourfully under his breath.

While he had the sense to leave his jacket in the car, the front of his shirt was splattered with windshield wiper fluid. A rogue curl had escaped and was now sticking to his forehead. His collar had wilted in the heat, and half of his sleeves were probably crumpled beyond help from where they had been folded to his elbow.

And yet, infuriatingly, he still managed to look good. Good in that maddening, ravenous way where you couldn't decide if you wanted to ditch him on the side of the road or climb him like a tree.

Theo tapped at a knob tentatively with his wrench, dropping it when the knob sparked. You had to physically shut your eyes. He was so pathetic, so hot.

“I'm pretty sure I’ve isolated the issue,” Theo was saying, wiping his hands on a cloth. “Definitely a leak of the, erm, braking fluid.”

You fixed Theo with a look. You narrowed his eyes at him.

“You made that up just now.”

“Did not,” he replied, a little too fast.

“Did so.”

Theo frowned, squinting into the hood. “Just five more minutes,” he mumbled, picking up his wrench again.

You muttered something rude under your breath and pushed him out of the way gently, not that he resisted much. You pushed back your hair and studied the interior of the hood.

"See?" came Theo's slightly whiny voice from somewhere cooler. "There's too many fiddly things, it's impossib-"

You pulled out your wand. After a little trial and error, a few whispered spells, the engine gave a healthy sputter and purred back to life.

You stepped back and closed the hood. Theo blinked.

“Huh.”

“Huh,” you repeated mockingly.

You examined your watch and hurried back to the passenger seat. "Now let's get going before it gets too dark."

"Yes, ma'am," Theo said, climbing into the driver's seat.

You flicked his ear in response. You could see the smile biting into his cheek as he checked his mirrors, not noticing that his cowlick was back with a vengeance.

You looked out the windshield, watching the trees go by as you tried to ignore how you were half in love him.

The party was more fun than you expected. And it did feel a little less lonely having someone to drive you there and back, all the while patiently taking the brunt of your teasing. Theo took you back to the castle, walked you up to your common room with surprising stamina (he didn't run all those laps for nothing, then) and bid you goodnight.

And that was the end of that.

Only, you were realising, part of you didn't want it to end. Against your will, everywhere you looked, Theo kept catching your eye - in the corridors, on the staircases, in the Great Hall, on the pitch. It was his fault, really, taking up so much space with all that height. Taking up so much of your mind with all those lazy half-smiles and crinkled eyes.

A couple of mornings later, Theo was jogging laps on the Quidditch pitch again. His grey shirt was soaked in sweat, his fringe falling into his eyes. The early morning air had that familiar crisp edge and the rhythmic murmur of his teammate's footfalls. Theo slowed to a walk, wiping his face with his shirt, when he felt it - that same pricking at the back of his neck. That same unease. He looked in the direction of the Great Hall warily.

“Stopping so soon?” you called out suddenly, from where you had been watching him in the stands.

Theo startled so hard he almost tripped.

“Fuck - how long have you been there?”

"Long enough," you replied languidly, taking in the endearing rosy flush of his cheeks. You waved Mattheo's Potions textbook in the air as Theo walked towards you.

"You can't be doing that to people with already elevated heart rates," he scolded weakly, taking the book you were holding out to him.

You grinned. “Mattheo’s. Try not to get too much sweat on it.”

Theo nodded. "Thanks. I've been needing to level my bed with something."

You swallowed the smile that threatened to break across your face. Merlin forbid he realised you found him funny. You tried to keep your tone light, casual.

“So… what’re you reading these days? Anything interesting?”

Theo looked a little lost. “Like...books?"

You held back an eye roll. “Yeah, I guess.”

"Oh. I've been re-reading Gatsby lately."

You nodded. “Classic. You should tell me about it sometime, over coffee."

Theo’s brow furrowed.

“You've never read The Great Gatsby?"

You gave Theo a dirty look, unable to maintain your polite veneer. "Of course I've read The Great Gatsby. I just wanted to hear your take on it."

Theo stared at you some more. "You want to hear...what I think, about Gatsby?"

"Yeah, sure." It was almost insulting, really, of how disbelieving he appeared of your good, perfectly innocent intentions.

“Uh… okay?” Theo said cautiously.

You stood, partly disappointed, partly peeved. “Great," you said flatly. "Good chat, then.”

You turned away and started walking back to the Great Hall, kicking yourself. How much plainer did you have to make the invitation?

Theo watched you walk off, still a little confused. He jogged back to the pitch, resuming his laps. What was all that about? You wanted to hear what he thought about Gatsby? Not much, especially in comparison to you. He'd hardly have anything to contribute to the conversation that you didn't already know. Why, the two of you would be better off talking about literally anything else.

Theo stopped. The realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

"WAIT - talk - coffee - yes, Y/N, YE- "

#i initally had it as a 70s themed party but changed it to 80s themed to honour the 80s inspired beat of the song woooo #also a second sabrina carpenter easter egg was the 15 minutes heheh #polaroids was another 80s easter egg #also had to crack out the vehicle repair part of my driving lessons so hopefully i remembered the anatomy of whats under the hood correctly #theo nott #theo nott x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott x you #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott fluff

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haikyu-mp4 · 2 days ago

Text

Just his type – Yaku x reader wc 684 – gn!reader

Sometimes, the members of Nekoma doubted that you and Yaku were actually dating. Willingly at least.

Kuroo, especially, would squint whenever you two interacted at school, as it mostly consisted of scoffing and annoying each other. It wasn’t anything like the romantic bickering he imagined in his future relationship.

“Why don’t you just do better?” Yaku asked when you were moping over a bad test result. Kuroo grimaced, having heard those exact words from him in volleyball training, but now he watched you slowly raise your gaze to Yaku’s.

“You’re so smart, honey.” You smacked your lips with a sarcastic chuckle, patting your head. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that!”

And when you abruptly shoved your chair back to get up and rub your knuckle into your boyfriend’s head until he could swear a bald spot started forming, Kai would just pat Kuroo on the shoulder. “Yaku needs a partner like that, don’t you think?”

The second-years cared less, but found it entertaining when the so-called demon senpai was challenged.

They’re in the gym at training camp, doing receiving drills until Yaku might tire out and let them go.

Yamamoto’s eyes followed Lev, who had Yaku trailing angrily behind him but struggling to keep up with his stride.

“Get back here!” Yaku squeaked. “You’re not done with training!”

Lev stuttered out some excuse that Yamamoto couldn’t hear after he got distracted by you stepping inside the gym.

Kenma came up beside him and huffed a small laugh. “It’s like the final boss has a final boss.” Yamamoto only shook his head with a smile, not exactly disagreeing.

Yaku turned 180 degrees and hit you with an unimpressed look. “I thought you had kitchen duty with Fukurodani's managers.”

“And I thought you were going to ask the second-years to come help me,” you retorted, crossing your arms and tapping your foot on the floor impatiently.

Yaku blinked at you in silence. Hearing that, Yamamoto and Kenma started slowly backing away so they might evade such a fate. The older team member diverted his gaze with a hint of guilt and shrugged. “So, I might have forgotten that. Do you need them now?”

Yamamoto made a last-ditch attempt, grabbing Kenma’s sleeve and pulling him along until they reached the entrance, escaping into the night to the sound of you two fighting.

In the preliminaries, the third-years’ last opportunity to go to nationals, you spent the whole game with your hands clutched together, cheering the boys on for them to beat the team that couldn’t seem to play fair.

If only Coach Nekomata let you and Yaku at ‘em, they wouldn’t be barking so loud after.

Nonetheless, you believed in Nekoma wholeheartedly.

Until you watched Yaku jump the barrier for a flyaway ball and not get back up. You gasped, running around the court to get to him as fast as possible, apologising to any people you had to shove aside. When you got there, Yaku was groaning and clutching his ankle with one hand, while the other pressed against the floor to try and push him up.

The team watched as you held Yaku close to you, one hand resting on his chest and the other arm across his back while he leaned on you to get the weight off his foot. It was the most affectionate they’d seen you two be with each other, and it was topped by Yaku pressing a kiss to your temple, before shaking his head stubbornly at whatever you’d said.

Kuroo ran over to check on you two and recognised the familiar tone in your voice. “Are you stupid? If you go back in now, you’ll hurt yourself even more, and then you can’t even play when Nekoma finally goes to nationals!” you scolded him.

Yaku eventually gave in, letting you help him to the bench, and Shibayama took his place on the court.

Kuroo looked at Kai and nodded, the two sharing a motivational high five as they got ready to start back up.

“Yeah, that’s exactly the kind of partner he needs,” he mused, ending that speculation.

masterlist

requested by @liquidcatt for don't forget me<3

#don't forget me #haikyu #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #fanfiction #hq #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #haikyu fluff #yaku #yaku x reader #yaku haikyuu #yaku morisuke #yaku x you #yaku morisuke x reader #nekoma

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thecowboyfiles · 14 hours ago

Note

mean! reader cornering bob in the hallway & giving him a handjob while the team is inches away bc bob cant keep his hands to himself 🥴

‎‧₊˚✩ 🪐✩˚₊‧

📂 Current File: ▼ ▶ 3.0_naughtyboy.mov

ⓘ Robert Reynolds x Female Reader

Robert has always been exceptionally needy - not in everyday things - he was one of the most capable men you knew, but in the bedroom, well, that's where he needed some guidance. That's where he needed to be put in his place.

He had certainly been pushing it lately, touching you around the team, just small things, a hand sliding up your thigh under the booth at the bar, a hand slipping up your shirt to cup your boob in the dark of team movie nights, but at the end of the week you had enough of it. He needed to remember who was in charge.

You catch him an his way to the next meeting, pulling him just around the corner. “where do you think you’re going, Robby?”

“To the meeting?” He frowns, gesturing toward the kitchen where you both know everybody else is already sitting.

“oh no, i don’t think so,” You smirk, he hasn’t clued in to what’s happening yet, if he had he wouldn’t have been so openly defiant or sure in how he was speaking. “You’ve been a very bad boy this week. I think you need a refresher course on who owns you.” You don't even give him the chance to respond before you are shoving your hand down his pants.

Robert gasps, head snapping toward the opening to the kitchen. Despite his obvious anxiety, his cock hardens quickly in your hand and he looks back at you, eyes wide and biting his lip.

“Not so bold now, are you baby?” You pull your hand back out and bring it up to his mouth. “Spit,” you demand.

Obediently, Robert spits in your hand and looks back up at you, lips wet. You don’t give him the satisfaction of meeting his eyes. Instead, you focus on jerking his cock, hard and fast. He's already leaking against your palm, and his desperate little whimpers are getting louder and louder, but you don't stop.

"Slow—slow down," He gasps out, knees and thighs shaking, trying desperately to keep him upright and not let him crumble under the pleasure.

"Now, why would I do that?" You can't help but smirk, taunting in your voice. "You wanted to touch so bad before, now I get to touch you." You look up and see the way his Adam's apple bobs, clearly swallowing down his needy noises. "Don't stop yourself, baby. I think everyone in the kitchen should know who you belong to and what happens to pretty little Robby's when they get too bold."

"Ohh, ahhh, oh fuck, m'gonna cum, please, please, I need..."

You know he's close, you can feel the way his cock twitches and jerks under your tight fist, twisting on each upstroke and rubbing over the sensitive head, but you don't stop. "What is it, hm?" You taunt, "What do you need?"

"Shit, oh god, I need to cum" He whines out, head falling back, no doubt his toes are curling in his boots.

You give him a mock pout, jutting your bottom lip right in front of his face. "If only you weren't such a brat this week," You smirk, pulling your hand out of his pants and licking off the precum. "You know only good boys get rewards, Robert, but maybe you can ask again tonight."

With that, you push past him and make your way into the kitchen, leaving him dumbfounded behind you. You knew neither of you had been quiet, so when you sat down at the table and all eyes were on you with varying degrees of horrified and impressed, you just shrugged and grabbed a mug from the cupboard.

#robert reynolds #robert reynolds x reader #bob reynolds fanfic #bob thunderbolts #bob reynolds smut #thunderbolts #bob reynolds x reader #marvel #robert reynolds smut #new avengers #thunderbolts*#mcu #sentry #thunderbolts fanfic #bob reynolds #the sentry #female reader #afab reader

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norcigs · 2 days ago

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SAME TIME? (CAM BUNNY .ᐟ ᢉ𐭩 pt 3) previous part

synop: you and lando explore your connection a bit furthur

warnings: smuuut, with plot, dom!lando, sub!reader, m and f masterbating, praise, vry light degrading, light pet play, use of bunny whore slut doll and others

🍸: 5.1k words (spoiling you guys)

his big hands sat steady and tight on your waist. you were straddling him, but he was keeping you still and up right while he pistoned his cock into you. he held you in position, leaning over top of him so he could bend his knees to fuck you better. he would pull down on your hips every so often to give you a harder thrust and hit that spot that drove you crazy. he didnt even need to look up, didnt need to see you– he knew he would finish far too quickly if he did. he stared straight ahead at his hands on his girls hips. fucking her like she needed him to. really, he didnt think about his own pleasure at all, once you started gripping at his shoulders and whining into his neck for more. he was concentrated. completely focused. his brows furrowed as he grunted under you, his muscles burned and he needed a rest. but he didnt care, even as a layer of sweat coated his whole body. he just kept fucking you. he just kept making you feel like only he could, you were his after all.

suddenly you were collapsing onto him, and you felt light as a feather. almost like you weren't there. with your face tucked into his neck he was able to see the room again. the lights were fuzzy… or was he that exhausted? he didn't feel your waist in his hands anymore. he saw that they were there, still in place, but he didnt feel them. he was a bit dazed but this felt different, like being lost in a house you've lived in your whole life.

he kissed your shoulder and allowed his hands to trail to your lower back before he let his eyes close. just a slow blink, but when his eyes opened again, you were gone. he wasn't naked anymore, and the harsh slap of reality came when he finally heard the blaring noise coming from his alarm clock.

this was the third night in a row lando had dreamed of you. he didn't mind it, the downside of waking up with a solid cock was outweighed by any time he got to spend with you. it was stupid, he knew that, having a crush on some random girl he knew nothing about. he just, he didn't care. for whatever reason, you were the thing his dick, mind, and heart, kept finding its way back too. and those three had never agreed on someone before.

he drove faster, he worked quicker, kept himself busy with things to do so the days he couldn't see you would pass. the frustration that bloomed from his dick made him brake later and hit more apexes. you made him better. people started asking “what’s happened to you” or “what changed” and his excuses were lame and not believable. especially when his engineers constantly had to snap him back into a conversation from his daydreaming.

this week started the european triple header. Emilia-Romagna first, with Monaco hot on its heels. preparation had been crazy, and while lando had been driving his best, his head wasn't exactly in it the whole time. his thoughts had shifted from eating you out to eating team dinners with you. he thought about bringing you with him to work, having you sit pretty and wait for him just incase he needed a kiss. he thought about having you in his arms any time he was talking to someone. your back pressed to his front, with his arms draped over your shoulders so no one ever doubted who you belonged to.

as he shut the door of his apartment behind him, his chest hummed with excitement. wednesday night. he gets to see his girl. today’s training was particularly sweaty so he got in the shower and got himself ready for you. washing his hair and cleaning under his nails like some school boy with a crush. choosing his pajamas with what he thought you might like in mind. his constant refreshing of your page throughout the week had, unsurprisingly, not magically caused you to appear. but tonight it would. you had a date. “same time wednesday” was the promise that echoed in his head as he laid his computer to the side waiting for that time to roll around.

his dick was already getting hard with want. desire filling him so far up he had to take deep breaths to slow his heart rate. he had to actively try and clear his mind as flashes of your tits, or hands, or wet cunt flickered through his thoughts like you were haunting him. or blessing him, or somewhere beautiful between the two. he opened his eyes with a sigh as he gave up on trying to will his cock to soften.

CAMBUNNY HAS JUST WENT LIVE!

the notification popped up in the top right corner of your profile and he clicked in with no hesitation. he was in too deep to play the nonchalant game. he was waiting for you, and he didnt care if you knew. hell, he was sitting in his apartment, alone, wearing the cologne he thought you would favor. your cam came up full screen, in the same position as last time, close to the bed. he had grown really fond of your fairy lights and barely pink painted walls. he felt a quick pang to his heart when he didn't see you on screen.

where are you baby? he asked himself in his head, almost pathetic. he heard a moment of static, like something being plugged in or turned on, and then your voice, sugary sweet and dripping with beauty.

“four?” you questioned from outside of the frame. you knew it was him, or at least assumed it was. broadcasting yourself live to anyone, and your first thought was of him. his cock standing up higher as he tried to not convince himself he owned you. but your obedience was making it really difficult.

HI BABY

he typed quickly, not wanting you huffy about slow responses. and you were fucking giggling. soft, and genuine, you giggled into the mic, at the pet name, or at whatever was causing you both to be so drawn to the other.

“you joined before i finished getting set up, gimmie one minute” every inflection you put into speaking sent a chill up his spine. you were so real, so individual, so exquisitely you.

TAKE YOUR TIME DOLL

“remember the surprise i told you about ?”

OF COURSE I DO

“okay well i have it on, but its nothing big, so, i just dont want you to be disappointed” your voice trailed off with that innocence that made lando want to kiss you gently or fuck you stupid.

TRUST ME, YOU COULD NEVER DISAPPOINT ME

a quick sigh escaped you, and he tried not to think about your heart racing, wanting to make him proud. it felt like time moved in slow motion as you finally breached the edge of the camera frame. first your hand and arms, bare. then as you slowly crawled to the center of your bed, revealing yourself, your surprise, his mouth dried up and dick pulsed like it might have a heart of its own.

a black leather body suit adorned your figure. the thick leather looked tight and pushed your breasts up where they might spill out if he had his way with you. it was strapless, collar bones on full display– a part of your body he was growing oddly fond of. his eyes trailed down at a snail's pace, like he could drink you in, or like, if he moved too quickly he might finish in his own shorts untouched. black tights under the garment came out and covered your legs, sheer enough to see skin, but modest enough to keep him guessing. crawling across the bed on all fours, back arching, you shook your butt just briefly to show off your tail. a white cotton puff sat right where your perky ass was hardly confined by the skimpy bodysuit. you moved to bend your knees and sit back on your ankles. the last detail finally in frame, a matching black leather collar with silver charms spelling BUNNY. stars pricked the outside of lando’s vision as he really tried to remain composed.

“well what do you think” your voice pulled his floating thoughts back to reality. he wanted to fucking eat you. or worship you. he wanted you bent over, pulling your hair, and giving him what he wanted. or he wanted to sit at your feet and beg you to let him taste your cunt. this tug of war his head played with only made his dick warmer and hips more eager.

YOU ARE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMAN I HAVE EVER SEEN

and he meant it. as his eyes traced over every inch of you begging to find a flaw. something that could stop his heart from only beating when it thought about you. he couldnt. you sat there, looking like a holy relic, asking him if he liked it? hands folded in your lap like the sweetest little thing. reaching up to move your hair over your shoulders to behind your back. gentle and graceful, showing more of your chest and shoulders. his lips tingled as he thought about leaving scattered kisses along the soft skin. he thought about taking his time with you, really savoring you, appreciating all that was his.

and you giggled at his message, air leaving your lungs like what he said was impossible. like you really didnt know how divine you were to him. like everytime he saw you, he didnt have to question whether or not you were a dream. like something painted by stars and carved by the moon.

“play with me” your soft voice threaded through your mic and straight to his soul. pouting with wet pathetic eyes he didnt even need to see. you were getting fidgety, as his admiring made time move a lot slower on his end.

GETTING NEEDY BUNNY?

“dont tease me, i got all dressed up for you” you whined. and his hand was wrapped around his dick before he could even blink. for him? you did this for him. he thought about his hand replacing your collar and teaching you what it really meant to be owned.

WANNA SHOW ME WHAT A GOOD GIRL YOU CAN BE?

your head was nodding quickly, shame leaving you as it shifted to heat in your face and clit.

GET YOUR TOY AND TURN AROUND

you reached under your pillow, visions flickered in his head as he thought about you desperately rutting against your vibrator late at night, shoving your own face in your pillow to keep quiet. you quickly shifted to have your butt facing the camera, leaning down and arching your back for him. the body suit had little latches where it could be undone right where he might need easy access to you. you laid down onto your elbows, letting you arch further. he could see you now. all of you. you faced away from him, so he couldnt see your face, but he could see your whole figure. all of you at once, the full picture finally completed. had he not been squeezing his tip like it might escape he would have finished like a virgin at nothing but your back arching.

your hands moved between your legs, and you separated the two clasps that held your body suit together over your cunt. pulling it up, he could see your glistening pussy. the tights were just sheer enough for him to see your clit, sweet slit, and the wet spot you left against the fabric. this was the first time he had seen your cunt, really seen it. next to the simmering desire in his belly, was a twist of possession. thats my girl, thats my fucking pussy.

HEAVEN

he told you simply. which is exactly what it felt like. the pool of warmth churning in his crotch was nothing compared to the euphoria he felt in his head at the sight of you. you breathed deeply, shaky and uncontrolled. he saw your hand reaching back to your his pussy with the vibrator now turned on. just as you rested it against the soft bud, burning with want, you saw his message.

DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO DO THAT BUNNY?

you shut it off and snapped the vibrator away from yourself as quickly as you could– not even hesitating. “n-no sir, m sorry” you whimpered, muffled slightly by your head hanging closer to the bed now. your ass pressed more towards the camera, hips straining like it hurt for him to not be there fucking you. obedient. it made his head spin. in your room, with your vibrator, and your cunt. listening to him. behaving.

“please four… please it– it hurts i need you” you clawed at the sheets in front of you. voice exasperated and he knew what you meant. he felt it too. like an itch so deep it could never be scratched. as good as this felt, as good as you looked, he wouldnt be completely satisfied until he felt his cock sink into your velvet pussy. until he placed his hands where your thighs met your hips and jerked your cunt back against him. your whining raked through him as he didnt have it in him to be mean to you anymore.

GO ON, PUT ON A GOOD SHOW FOR DADDY

he regretted calling himself that for a split second, until your moan roared back at him through his laptop. nodding your head and replacing the buzzing toy to your most intimate area. relaxing instantly your voice was a purr as you choked out soft moans from the pleasure. his dick found a steady rhythm, one he liked, until he noticed how your hips moved back and forth ever so slightly. rocking so gently, you could miss it, if you didn't watch with the care that lando did. you fucked yourself against your vibrator. even in this position, you couldnt help but think about being fucked like a whore. spread open around his cock, desperate to be controlled. now his hand matched your pace– though, if he ever got his hands on you, his pace would be a hell of a lot more ruthless than yours.

he spit on his own hand. something he hadn't done before alone, but his hand didn't feel nearly as good as your leaking cunt looked. he thought about how you might drool on his cock while you sucked him, before he pulled you off and used your pussy to finish. the unease he felt about his own spit on his dick left almost instantly as his pumps felt just a fraction more like what he thought your cunt would feel like. you were messy, tights ruined with wetness, as you let noises fall from your mouth and worked your clit like you were

MADE FOR ME

he told you. like most of his messages, he felt as if it went straight to your clit. between the blurry wetness of your tights he could see you clench around nothing. yearning for him.

“mhm made jus fo’you daddy” you slurred with none of the innocence he had become accustomed to. no, this was you at your most vulnerable. completely in the palms of his hands. yanking his dick at the thought of it, you telling him your pussy was made for him. like spreading your legs was all you ever wanted, turning your brain off and just letting him lay claim to you.

his dick was fucking twitching. what was it about you that drove him so fucking crazy. he couldnt hold himself together. the only solace being how your thighs clenched, and he knew your body well enough now to know you were just as close as he was.

CAN YOU DO ONE SETTING HIGHER FOR ME BABY?

your high pitched mmphm was completely lost to the pillow covering your mouth but your other hand clicking the smaller button on your toy was a good answer for him. he wanted, needed, you to feel good. to watch pleasure shriek through your body. he wanted you to feel the best you ever had– with him there. he wanted you to know only he could make you feel like this. wanted your body to lose itself and your mind to trust him enough to choose the stopping point.

you sounded pathetic. delicious, and entirely pathetic. you made noises that sounded more like scripture to lando. you looked like something he would kneel before and pray to. he pumped his cock to you. to the pace of your moans now, they were faster, more like how he would fuck your cunt. his eyes wanted to lull him under, sink into the vision of you really being ruined by his dick, so he could finish. but the idea of missing even a moment of the show you were giving him made his eyelids strain to stay open.

I KNOW BABY, ITS TOO MUCH FOR YOUR SWEET CUNT, I KNOW, JUST TAKE IT FOR ME BUNNY

he was talking you through it. the way your voice sounded ragged and losing the poise of your usual pretty little moans. you were gone. body completely at the mercy of your clit, at his mercy. he couldn't imagine anything being in your little head but his instructions. you sobbed at the almost overstimulation from your vibrator. his innocent little girl. like you hadn't ever experienced this much before… like you had never tried to allow yourself this level of euphoria. but with him, you listened, let him decide, you did as you were told. your slit was clenching more now, reading his messages, knowing you were in good hands, he had you.

“m so– cn i cum please four, can i cum for you” you begged as your body shook. asking him permission for when you were allowed to finish. like a pet. that same blush of pride swelled in his chest as you asked him to tell you what you could or couldn't do with your his body.

HOLD IT SLUT

he couldn't help himself. not when you were so willing to be broken. he hated being mean to you, really he did, but the way your body clenched and loosened like a whore; he couldn't help it. tsk tsk sweet thing, if you weren't such a nasty slut, daddy wouldn't have to be so mean to you. you did as he told you. bunched fists of your sheets as your body was nearly spasming trying to keep from finishing. sobs wrecked through you, as the pillow covering your mouth did little to muffle them now. completely fucking dazed you were mumbling “please” and “wan cum for you” like a manifestation. like the only thing that could make you finish was his fucking permission.

his dick burned, hot and angry against the inside of his fist. clenching tighter around his length like he thought your pussy would. he thought about bucking himself into you as you sobbed like this, completely out of control and in his hands. he thought about making you watch him destroy you. making you watch yourself beg him to destroy you. his hand pumped his cock with every bit of strength he had. watching you fall apart for him.

“four plea–”

LET IT GO BUNNY

your orgasm blared through your body like an earthquake. you shook and convulsed as you tried to keep yourself up right and your cunt open. the scream you let out was almost inhuman. you couldnt think anymore, fucked completely stupid, there was nothing in you except selfish pleasure. brain mushy as you had never pushed yourself this far before. your vision went hot and white. sensations spread from your cunt to the top of your head and bottom of your feet. you couldn't tell where one part of your body ended and the other began. vibrations waved throughout your stomach and left a buzzing feeling on your skin. dizzy as you clenched around your emptiness and moaned his number like a plea to your god.

watching you gently tip off the mountain he had carried you to, sent him diving off straight after you. hips straining up as he yanked thick spurts out of his cock. cumming with a grunt down his own pajamas. hand dragging to force more white from his tip. teeth gritted together as he watched you shake while you finished together. leaving this world, for one of more bliss, at the same moment, hand in hand. it was then, his balls pulsing with a primal hunger, he realized, you owned him. as much as he thought of your sweet cunt as his. his cock belonged to you. red with a heat only you commanded, weak with an ache only you could satiate. as his head slipped back into the bliss of his high he thought, fucking slut. but even he wasn't sure which of you two he was referring to.

your sobbed moans had softened now. still dreamy and collapsed onto your bed, lando came down quicker than you did. at least, he willed himself to. if he was the one getting you so lost, he wanted to make sure he was always there to carry you back home. it didn't seem fair to make you stupid and then tell you to think by yourself right after. no, he would take care of you until you were ready. still fluttering with his own high, he told you

DID SO GOOD FOR ME, MY SWEET THING

still whining and clenching up every now and then, you hummed with an air of ease.

LISTENED SO WELL AND MADE ME SO PROUD

“you drive me crazy” slurred out of you with a sleepy and perfectly drained voice. he lingered at the thought of how much of a mess you would be after he finished with you. after he gave you more than you ever thought you could take. how you might curl up onto his chest, just wanting to be as close as possible. he shook off the image of your hearts beating in sync with one another. he blinked away the thought of you perfectly fitting in all the places he didn't even know were empty. “did you. . .” you tried to finish, trailing off with that same innocence that curled around his ribs like smoke, sweet and suffocating.

DID I WHAT? NEED BIG GIRL WORDS.

this give and take, the pull to his push, your melody to his harmony, different beats but mixing to a beautiful song. the dynamic was unspoken and yet, natural. like lightning and thunder of the same storm. he lead, you followed, you performed, he watched, you spoke, he listened, he pushed, you obeyed. completing one another like a tale as old as time.

the pitiful hmph you responded with was maddening. “did you, y’know, like did you finish too” you asked, quick and shy. falling apart for him like a whore and then being embarrassed to ask if he finished. sweet fucking girl, what am i gonna do with you.

YOU THINK I COULD CONTAIN MYSELF WITH HOW YOU LOOK FOR ME RIGHT NOW?

your giggle was softer now, more gentle, with that tired, loopy look that drenched your whole form. “sometimes…” you adjusted to be sitting back on your ankles again “you talk about me…” you turned around to face him, breasts hardly kept in by the crooked bodysuit “like you own me” you finished.

lando dropped his head back to the top of the couch, eyes nearly rolling. because, he did, he did talk about you like that, and you knew it. his shoulders tensed for a second as your mouth parted to continue “...and” he stared as you cocked your head to the side “...it gets me really fucking worked up” you purred, sounding better than sex itself.

YOU'RE MINE, FEEL LIKE YOU WERE MADE JUST FOR ME.

he thought to stop there but the heat in his cheeks and post nut clarity took over and he added

I MISS YOU WHEN YOU'RE GONE

a glimpse at his heart. a moment too intimate to fall behind the “watcher, player” mask. the dynamic leaking deeper into both of your muscles than you tried to let it.

“i miss you when i'm gone” your tone a whisper of something, like a secret. both of you dancing on the edge of a blade. knowing this is wrong, dangerous even. but being too dissolved in the electricity to care about the current pulling you out too far.

lando thought he could cry. if all the lights were out, and this moment was frozen, maybe he would. a sizzling in his chest as you sat more relaxed, thinking that's his girl, she belonged to him. his eyes finally blinked after not realizing how long he had gone without one. his eyes darted around the screen, shy now, avoiding eye contact with your breasts. he saw a new button at the bottom of your layout.

WANT TO TIP CAMBUNNY?..<3

it read and he clicked it without hesitation. deciding how much was trickier than he thought it would be. it being too little wasn't really a fear, it was the other end of the spectrum that worried him. how much would scare you away? or make you ask questions? he wanted to give you his credit card and follow you around while you bought anything you wished for.

FOUR HAS TIPPED CAMBUNNY €500!

popped up in chat the second he hit send, almost embarrassingly fast.

MAYBE BUY SOMETHING PRETTY FOR ME?

he thought adding the prompt would make you feel more validated in accepting the money. he didn't want you to feel like you had to do anything extra in your streams since he paid you. he liked what you were comfortable with. and clearly you liked getting dolled up.

“wh- wait whoa thats way too much, how can i refund that?” you asked as you frantically moved towards the camera off your bed.

DONT. LET ME SPOIL YOU

“does that make this hotter for you, four” a smirk laced your tone as you teased him. he smiled at you like a dumb kid. each time you two did this together, the walls came down just that little bit further. the connection lighting a spark in a forest, waiting to catch on fire. “ok, but i don't want to end up on BBC with ‘man loses everything due to cam girl addiction’ as the headline” you finished with air quotes, teasing still.

I PROMISE NOT TO GIVE ANYTHING I CANT AFFORD

it was corny. flexing his wallet like he had something to make up for. he didn't. but maybe, this did make it hotter for him. treating you good, spoiling his girl, taking care of you. this was a part he liked just as much as what happened between your legs. this is what made laying awake missing your weight atop him a little easier. made thinking about kissing your tears away and telling you how much he loved you less heart breaking.

GOT TO TAKE CARE OF MY GIRL

my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. my girl. his girl. separated by everything, yet repeating identical mantras in your heads as you thought about the other.

“do you– if you– are you free tomorrow?” you tried to choke back the stutter but he heard it. lapping it up. liking how he affected you, no matter the context. thursday before a race weekend… he wasn’t really free tomorrow. but part of them both knew he was never going to tell her no.

FOR YOU, ALWAYS

“i was just thinking i could maybe go live again tomorrow, even though it's off schedule” you said, sitting at what he assumed was the desk where your camera or laptop sat. chest fully in front of the camera, and he could see a little sliver of your chin at the top of the frame. the wall dropping. “like around the same time? 9 pm CET?” you questioned as your head stayed trained towards your chat box… waiting for him. going out on a limb and being scared he might snap it off.

I'LL BE HERE DARLING

soft pink crawled over your exposed skin as you huffed happily through your nose. your hand reached towards where you usually ended the stream. snapping it back like you realized something cosmically important.

“wait last thing–” you spoke quickly, hoping he hadn't already clicked off. the possibility of that had never even crossed his mind. “what's your favorite color?” you asked.

a more loaded question for lando than you likely intended. his fingers moved before his instincts. before he had the chance to catch himself, to reconsider. if his wall was dropping low enough you might be able to peek over it, he didn't seem to mind.

ORANGE

no hesitation either. really, his favorite color probably wasn't orange. but it was his color. as much as four was his number and you were his girl. if there was any chance of seeing you covered in orange, covered in him, he was taking it.

“got it” you whispered like you heard something he had never told anyone. like you would memorize anything he told you as if it was sacred. your hand raised steady to just outside of the camera’s view, right where he pictured your lips would sit. then, he heard a kissing noise followed by a ‘pop’ sounding like punctuation. extending your hand and blowing it towards the camera, towards him. he felt his cheek warm on the right side like it landed there. completely stupid, yet content at the idea, he raised his fingers to softly ghost over the spot and savor something invisible. your cam went dark and the screen flashed white

CAMBUNNY HAS ENDED HER LIVE!

slowly, he found the strength to walk back to his bathroom, wanting to clean himself off. despite this being the third time he was washing one pair of pants after just seeing you, lando was elated. buzzing and churning in a way he had never experienced. thinking about carrying you to the shower and washing your hair. thinking about leaving kisses in the shape of his 4 on your tummy. heart skipping at him remembering he can see you tomorrow. hands sweating so little he convinced himself they weren't, but you had told him 9PM CET, Central European Timezone. his timezone. you shared a timezone, somehow, despite that still meaning you could be thousands of miles away, it made you feel a little bit closer. like he could feel your warmth peaking over the skyline, like the sun might during sunrise.

#hope you guys arent bored of esex bc they arent!#day late so its twice as long #tell me you like it praise me !!!!!#kidding #kinda #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #lando norris smut #lando smut #lando norris #lando x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula 1

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callsign-swan · 2 days ago

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i just wanna knit bob reynolds a sweater.

i wanna sit with him while the rest of the team is on a mission. at first, it's hard to find something to do. bob is happy to read alone, you sitting with him.

but you can't just sit with him and do nothing. like, sitting still, your hands not doing anything, is like a modern form of torture. your phone stopped being interesting a while back and you weren't one for drawing.

god, it had been years since you picked up a pair of kitting needles. you didn't know anything about needle sizing in comparison to yarn thickness or how to construct a knitted piece.

youtube became your new best friend.

while bob sat on in the armchair and read his book, you were sat with your legs folded beneath you, headphones connected to your phone as you watched a youtube video on how to knit.

(you'd started with a video that needed a basic understanding of knitting. a basic understanding that you didn't have. the video looked good, though, something you would enjoy watching without that understanding of knitting. you saved it to come back to later)

it was hard to get the sizing right. you didn't know how many inches bobs waist was. so, you guessed. it was either gonna come out so big that you could fit inside of it with him, or it was gonna be so tight, he wouldn't be able to pull it over his head.

the fifth time bob watched you unravel the knitting you had done (with each new attempt at the ribbing along the bottom, it got neater), he put his book down. "what're you doing?" he asked you, leaning forward in his seat. his hand was in his fist as he looked at you.

he couldn't understand it. the way you held your thumb and your finger apart, yarn twisted around them. as you moved them, the yarn went onto the needles. to bob, you looked like an expert.

"nothing, bobert," you mumbled and held up your needles, carefully counting how many stitches you had. (160)

(that was all you had. your needles and your yarn. you didn't have anything else you needed, stitch markers or measuring tape. but this was the start of a new hobby, a new obsessin, you could tell).

you were happy with it, happy with how many stitched you had on your needles. they were bunched up at the end just from the sheer amount of stitches you had.

to bob, it didn't look like you were doing nothing. especially not when you started moving your needles. for a few more minutes, just until you got to the end of the row, he watched you. it looked fucking complicated, that he was sure of.

it was a good couple of hours later that you walked over to him. "stand up," you said to him. bob obeyed and stood. he was still has you held the needles up, pinching the ends to stop the stitches from sliding off. "perfect, i think," you mumbled and wandered back to your chair.

in silence, you worked. a comfortable silence that stretched between you and bob. he tried his best to keep on reading his book, but he was damn distracted by you. you as you knitted, wrapping the yarn around the needle and then pulling it off. you repeated the process again and again.

it was late into the afternoon when you stood up again. wandering over to bob, you took his hand and pulled him to his feet. you held the almost finished panel of the sweater up. "hold it," you mumbled and bob did just that.

you counted the amount of stitches that would make up his shoulder. you were so close to being done, just a few more hours and this panel would be done. (you just had three more to go, but you wouldn't need bob for that. it was just that his waist was narrow and his torso was long, you never could have worked out the measurements without him there).

"what're you doing?" bob tried again.

"nothing, bobert, i swear!" you insisted and took the panel of the sweater back from him.

the way he looked at you, you knew he didn't believe you. but it was obvious, wasn't it? it was so damn obvious what you were doing, he just wanted to hear you say it.

you returned to the chair and began knitting again. the team returned but you didn't notice. you were too busy knitting, and bob was too busy watching you. it was so damn sweet.

now, the sweater was nowhere near finished. you had a lot of work to do, the making and the stitching together. but it was well on the way, your sweater for bob.

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iluvbuckets · 11 hours ago

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game time decision

concussion protocol part 2

paige bueckers x fem!reader

summary: after the wings vs sky game where paige took a hard hit to the head from an opponent, she is placed under concussion protocol. you had a particularly intense reaction to the hit, and it does not go unnoticed by the women's basketball fans. now, there was already speculation that you two had a romantic relationship on social media, but this only added fuel to the fire. the overwhelming concern and worry for the possibility of her having a serious head injury has new, deeper feelings you had never considered before bringing themselves to the front of your mind, and you begin to wonder if maybe those comments were right all along.

warnings: fluff!!, friends to lovers, slow burn, just you two being cutesy besties, hurt/comfort, idiots in love!, talk of philosophy/mythology/doctor who bc i'm nerdy like dat (but it's romantic, i swear!!), talk of the kendrick/drake beef (it relates to u being the #1 koclanes hater), lots!! of!! plot!!, eye contact, quite a bit of teasing (no one is surprised), sub!paige, you're a giver fs, both are stubborn af, you're a lil whiny for a second, u luv paige's biceps, choking kinda, thigh grindinggg, oral (of courseee), begging obviously

word count: 27k

notes: i hope this was worth the wait <3 & i rlly hope y'all don't mind the references in this but i am just a girl with niche knowledge to share with the world and this is my outlet :( everyone thank my psychiatrist who prescribes me 70mg of vyvanse for the word count :)

tags! daffodil-darlings

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you couldn’t contain your nervousness sitting at the table, trying to do post-game media availability without making it too obvious how pissed and antsy you were.

much to her dismay, paige reluctantly told the trainers that she had a headache immediately following your team’s post-game locker room talk. she knew that if she didn’t say anything, you would, so it was probably better if she just did it herself so you didn’t make it sound worse than it was.

since paige wasn’t available, the media team had asked you to step in for the media availability, especially after your little outburst on the court. but you didn’t want to be sitting there next to your coach who was useless and stupid for that stunt he pulled, keeping her in the game. apparently it was obvious to everyone but him that paige was the type of player to pretend nothing was wrong in those instances, needing the coach to step in and take her away.

“can you talk about what happened on the court today? we’ve never seen you so fired up like that before,” one of the reporters asks.

you almost laugh from bitterness, but you manage to keep your expressions pretty contained.

“uh,” you started, staring down at the table and not making eye contact, “emotions were high. it was an intense game, no doubt about that, and i was definitely feeling it.”

the answer was vague and honestly, didn’t answer the question at all, but you hoped that would be good enough. that it would be a sign that you didn’t want to talk about it right now out of fear that you may say something you regret. it wasn’t.

“right, but you’re not usually the type to yell like that. what caused it?” the same person asked.

“you know, sometimes we all just get a little frustrated and it comes off more fiery than intended,” you answered, your tone just barely dripping in sass. it was intended, though. maybe not when you were speaking to paige, but definitely to coach.

“it looked like you were frustrated with paige,” someone else started. “during the third quarter, you seemed to have a moment and hugged it out, though. can you talk about that?”

you glanced up at the reporter asking the question, then at chris, then trained your gaze back down onto the table, your leg shaking violently while you did so.

“yeah, i just had to remind her that i still love her despite being frustrated with the way things were going. just mid-game intensity, no big deal,” you replied as you looked up again and gave a tight-lipped smile.

and media couldn’t get over fast enough. after what felt like years, you were able to finally get back to the locker room for a quick shower and to change.

when you got on the bus that was taking the team to the airport, you sat in the front, not even bothering to see where she was sitting. not that it really mattered though, there were enough rows that you wouldn’t have sat in the same one anyway.

it was the same thing on the plane too, but it really wasn’t intentional. you weren’t even mad at her either, you were mad at everyone else who handled the situation poorly and the reporters trying to get a rise out of you. sure, she could’ve spoken up, but everyone else on staff should’ve stepped up when they noticed she didn’t–no matter if it was really a concussion or not. getting hit in the head isn’t something to play about.

“hey,” you heard her voice from beside you.

you and the team were standing on the tarmac, waiting for your luggage to be unloaded so you could get back to your cars. your eyes were trained on the plane, trying to distract yourself from how truly annoyed you were and thinking about how you needed to get away for a little bit to defuse it.

“hey,” you replied quietly.

“i’m in concussion protocol.”

you whipped your head to the side to look at her. she looked innocent and vulnerable, like one wrong sentence could set her off into a crying fit. the annoyance and anger quickly melted away at the sight. your shoulders sagged from their tense position as you turned to wrap her into another hug, putting a hand on the back of her head comfortingly.

“i’m sorry, paige,” you murmured softly into her ear.

“you can say i told you so,” she tried to joke when she finally pulled away after a few moments. “i can’t play the next two games. can’t travel either. they said i’ll be reevaluated on tuesday. i can do limited practice on monday if i feel better, though.”

a sympathetic smile rose to your lips at words. you knew that she might not have a concussion, it was just a precaution, but it didn’t stop the worry from flowing like nobody’s business. and even worse, you knew this was devastating for paige. she was holding it together externally so no one would worry, but she was cracking internally from it.

you pinched her cheek jokingly making her smile. “i’m not going to tell you i told you so. i was just angry because i care and i worry about you. i don’t care to prove a point.”

as you were talking, the cart with your bags was brought around for the team to take. before paige could even argue or try to grab it herself, you grabbed both of your duffle bags. luckily, neither of you were heavy packers–and this wasn't a long trip anyway–so they were pretty light and easy to carry. you nodded your head in the direction of the building of the airport in a wordless gesture to start walking back with you, which she did.

“thank you,” she said, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “could you–um, can i ride home with you? i just–i’m not allowed to drive myself until i’m cleared and we live in the same building. otherwise, one of the trainers has to drive me so–” she cut herself off before finishing her sentence.

honestly, you didn’t know why she was nervous to ask. maybe she thinks you’re still mad at her after not talking to her on the bus and plane, maybe she’s embarrassed of having to be taken care of, or maybe she’s embarrassed to even be in this situation. still, you had driven her so many places and definitely to practice a few times a week, so she shouldn’t be that nervous to ask. not to mention, you had already planned to offer because you assumed she would still try to drive herself home despite the protocol.

“of course, p,” you replied with a smile. you considered making a joke about how it was a dumb question or something similar, but you assumed this wasn’t the right time for that. sure, paige has a childlike energy and is always cracking jokes, but still. you did think of one joke that would still lighten the mood, though. “i always have room for my favorite passenger princess.”

“i am not a passenger princess,” she protested. her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance at the claim because she thought it was ridiculous (even if it was true), and gave you a side eye.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes at her weak argument–or lack of argument–but still keeping the smile on your face out of amusement. “yeah, you drive so much,” your tone dripping in sarcasm.

“i do!” she cried defensively. she threw her hands in the air in confusion, like this was genuinely the most surprising thing you had ever said, and she seemed genuine too. which is crazy because she definitely did not drive often enough for her to try to defend herself.

“maybe by yourself, but not with me,” you chuckled. she pressed her lips together in a thin line at your words. “you don’t even offer most of the time. you just walk straight to my car.”

“okay, fine. maybe you do drive all the time, but you know dallas better than me! it’s easier if you just drive,” she admitted, grabbing the door to the airport and holding it open for you. that surprised you, too. usually, she was too stubborn to admit you were right and would argue until you either agreed with her to make it easier or dropped it all together. even though it was annoying that she would do this, you also thought it was cute how dedicated she would be over things that are stupid.

“you’re saying i’m right?” you contorted your face into a shocked expression to sell the joke you were about to make. if your hands were free, you would probably put them over your heart. instead, you changed your shocked expression into a concerned one, shaking your head in fake disbelief. “that’s not like you. the concussion must be really bad. i better take you to the hospital right now.”

she knocked her shoulder with yours lightly, not trying to push you over, but enough for you to take a stabilizing step to the side. you didn’t realize how fast you two were walking until you were approaching the doors that led to the parking lot, but you weren’t that far from them anyway. this time, they were automatic doors, so you walked through them side by side instead of her grabbing it for you.

“you’re so funny,” she replied sarcastically.

you chose not to reply, so you both walked across the parking lot in a comfortable silence. though, it was abnormal for paige. she usually was running her mouth about anything and everything that possibly came to her mind, so you knew that meant she wasn’t feeling that great. not that you were surprised.

once you finally approached your car, you set your bag down on the concrete behind the trunk, fishing in your pockets for your keys. despite being in pain, she still felt the need to be helpful, so she opened your trunk and put your bag in it once you unlocked it. she reached for her bag in your hand, too.

“i can do it,” you said as you moved the bag backwards out of her reach. “i’m the healthy one here. get in the car.”

she threw her hands up in defense, but did as you said anyway, which you appreciated. you closed the trunk hard, making sure it actually closed, then walked to the driver’s side door to get in. when you finally sat down and shut the door, you paused for a moment to look at paige. she was staring forward like she was zoned out, chewing on both her lips absentmindedly.

when you didn’t start the car after a few moments, she looked over at you with confused expression filling her features. you tilted your head at her, shooting her a look of sympathy back. her mind was probably running wild with all kinds of thoughts that she would stress about until she could come back, but would also probably still stress about even when she was back.

“it’ll be okay,” you said, reaching over the console to grab her hand and intertwining your fingers. “hopefully they are being cautious over nothing. you’ll just sit out these next two games, then you’ll be cleared and ready to get back to work.”

“yeah, i hope so. it would really suck to add my brain to my extensive list of injuries,” she attempted to joke with a laugh, but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. she looked down at your hands to try to hide it from you. of course, it didn’t work–you could see right through it.

she was a touchy person–her love language definitely was physical touch, so she was glad that you allowed her to show her appreciation in that way and even did things like holding her hand when she was feeling upset or sad. you made her feel seen and appreciated, especially when she needed it most at this big life transition. you were just glad that she was comfortable enough to express herself like that, even if it meant she was always touching you when she was near you no matter what.

the comfortability didn’t happen immediately, though. at first, when she would talk to you, her hand lingered in the air between you instead. then, she gradually started patting your arm when she wanted your attention, resting her hands on your shoulders when she talked to you, and resting a hand lightly on your back when you were talking to her. then progressed to things like hugs when she did something well at practice, poking your waist from behind to distract you while you were trying to get shots up, and grabbing your shoulders while you were standing in huddles.

you definitely did not share that love language with her, but if it made her happy, you didn’t mind it. and you definitely weren’t nearly as touchy as her, so it took some getting used to. you would just initiate it by tapping her arm to get her attention every now and then, but would always reciprocate her touch without fail. she didn’t seem to notice that you barely initiated, or if she did, she didn’t mind. it probably helped that you never shook her off either (unless it was as a joke after she was making fun of you, of course).

“i know it’s easier said than done, but please, try not to stress about it too much. give yourself some grace and focus on finally being able to let yourself rest,” you said. you knew you were stating the obvious, but it didn’t hurt to remind her of it to really drill it in her head.

she only nodded her head in reply, keeping her gaze trained on your head to keep her emotions from flowing out of her too forcefully. you definitely could’ve continued the conversation with more things to say about it, but you decided to keep quiet. instead, you pulled your hand away from hers to turn the key and put the car in reverse so you could finally leave.

her grip wasn’t tight enough to prevent you from pulling away, but she kept her hand on her leg with her palm facing up as a hint that she wanted you to grab her hand again. after you backed out of the parking spot and put your car in drive, you reached over the console.

the ride back to your apartment building was silent except the faint sound of paige’s playlist playing in the background–her phone automatically connected to your carplay every time she got in it. she had turned her head to the side to keep her eyes trained outside the window, either deep in thought or trying to distract herself. you stared ahead, thinking about how worried you were and what people would say.

now that you had calmed down, you could admit that maybe you had overreacted a little. you were never one to yell at all, so you knew that your teammates were definitely surprised. your coach definitely was. paige definitely was. but you couldn’t help it. seeing her go down on the floor and holding her head in pain ignited a whole new type of worry that you don’t know if you had ever experienced before. something that made you want to drop everything and take care of her–nurse her to health. and when she lied about feeling fine? god, you don’t even know if you could even describe how deep the pit in your stomach was–the angry, knowing feeling that she was not okay.

you loved paige. she was your best friend and you would do anything for her, she knew that. you hated when she got hurt in anyway. but you couldn’t help but think about how you were the only person who acted that way about it. sure, your teammates were concerned, but not like you. not enough to cause a scene in the middle of the game yelling at their coach–which would probably end up on espn, or at least be the talk of women’s sports social media pages for a few weeks. they didn’t even say anything about how she should be taken out like you did.

did you overreact?

maybe you were just angry about your coach dangerously under-reacting and not her getting hurt in itself. would you have been just as concerned if she was taken out by your coach or the trainers? would it have eaten you up the whole rest of the game in the way? was it really as big of a deal as you made it?

well, yeah, head injuries or potential head injuries are a huge deal, but you still couldn’t help but stress about it.

the stressful thoughts seemed to make time fly by because before you knew it, you were pulling into the parking garage of your apartment building. you found your assigned parking spot which was in the corner of the ground floor, pulled in, and put your car in park. you let your free hand fall to your lap as you leaned back in your seat instead of turning it off though.

“will you stay at mine tonight?” you asked suddenly but quietly.

among the other thoughts swirling in your head, that was another one you had been thinking over asking. there wasn’t any reason for her to need company other than your own peace of mind. this wasn’t necessarily the kind of injury that she needed help moving around with or really any type of assistance at all, but you knew that she was having a hard time. even if she didn’t admit it. not that you didn’t trust her to be alone, but you would still feel better anyway. then she could get some real rest.

“i mean,” she started hesitantly, looking in your eyes. her unreadable expression softened into something else, something more fond and understanding. “yeah. yeah, that would be good.”

you almost expected her to argue. something about how she’s okay and you have better things to do than take care of her while she sits on her ass, because that’s the way she was. she didn’t want to be burden, and she would nurse herself back to health instead of feeling like one (even if you tried to reassure her that it was okay).

maybe her decision was influenced by the fact that this wasn’t the first time she had stayed over either, so she knew she would be in the guest room instead of on the couch. not that you would’ve offered if the best you could give her was a couch, though. or maybe that didn’t influence her decision at all. maybe she was purely doing it for you, because honestly, it really was more for your sake than hers–to make you feel better about her recovery.

once again, you grabbed your bags from the trunk and carried them inside yourself. she used her key to let you two in the building and held the door open for you after doing so. you gave her a nod of appreciation as you walked through. she pressed the elevator button for your floor, which opened immediately, much to your surprise. when you got in and the door closed, you dropped her bag on the floor and playfully covered her eyes with your hand.

“just putting in my contribution to helping you adhere to protocol,” you said as you raised your hand. “too many bright lights.”

she blew a laugh out of her nose, shaking her head, and pushing your hand down. you stiffened your arm to fight her for a few seconds, but ultimately let her push it down. “bruh, we literally just played in an arena. be so for real.”

“exactly. you’ve reached your limit for today,” you replied, picking up her bag off the floor again.

the elevator dinged, indicating you had finally reached your floor, and you shuffled out first with her following close behind. luckily, you were only a few doors down from the elevator so it wasn’t too far of a walk.

before she could insist to open it for you, you dropped her bag again to grab your keys from your pocket, unlocking the door swiftly. though, she swiped her bag up before you could reach for it again with a goofy grin on her face. you didn’t argue, though, you knew she could’ve been carrying it this whole time because it wasn’t that heavy.

“the room is still set up from the last time you stayed,” you said casually, throwing your bag haphazardly in the living room to grab later, shrugging your backpack off your back and throwing it in the same direction too.

“ew, you’re making me sleep on dirty sheets?” she replied, scrunching her nose like that was the most disgusting thing she had ever heard.

“you literally only slept on them once since i last washed them. are you saying you’re dirty?” you shot back, raising your eyebrows in a challenge. you knew that had been an argument between her and azzi at uconn–who was messier or dirtier–and they argued about it more often than you would think. honestly, you would say she wasn’t that messy, but maybe she’s cleaned up her act since then.

“nah,” she said, shaking her head. “i’m clean as hell.”

“then what did you do on those sheets to make them dirty?” you asked innocently, tilting your head slightly.

her cheeks flushed at the implication in your words, suggesting that she had done something sexual in your guest bed. it definitely was not the case, but her physical reaction wasn’t pleading her innocence very well. her hands shot up in defense before she replied.

“nothing! i just–i slept on them! nothing else. i didn’t do anything. that’s weird,” she said quickly. maybe it was a little too quickly, but the sudden awkwardness of the subject was making her nervous.

“yeah, okay,” you replied sarcastically like you didn’t believe her, your lips forming into a tight smile and your eyes widening. “doesn’t really sound like you didn’t do anything, but i guess the law i have to follow is innocent until proven guilty. i can’t really prove you’re guilty.”

“you’re mean to me,” she pouted, her lip jutting out slightly.

“you love it,” you said with a grin.

“because i have to.”

the rest of the night was no different than any usual hangout between the two of you. you ordered in food from doordash; normally, you would’ve insisted that it was your treat, but she was a partner. obviously, you were going to use her account for the good deals that came along with that. and of course, she insisted that she get to pick because it was her account, even throwing the extra argument of her having a concussion. not that you minded, you were going to let her pick anyway for that very reason.

she managed to convince you to watch a movie while you ate despite needing to limit her screen time, but she said either you watched it on television or she would watch it on her ipad. you decided to pick your battles because having the ipad close to her face would definitely be worse, but you made her promise that she would put the screens away after it finished. she agreed, but you knew that it was just to shut you up and she would still try.

almost immediately following the movie, you both excused yourself to bed. you followed behind her in the hallway, stopping at the guest room because it came first before your bedroom. before she could put her hand on the knob to open it, you tapped her shoulder to grab her attention. once she turned to face you, you wrapped your arms around her waist in a hug. she melted into your touch, wrapping her arms around your shoulders without any hesitation and burying her face in your neck.

“everything will be okay,” you whispered, rubbing circles into her back slowly. “get some rest, p.”

she sighed as you pulled away, her expression looking significantly more defeated than it did five minutes ago. she didn’t verbally reply, though, just nodded and opened the door to the room. you didn’t wait for it to close before you were walking to your own room, closing the door softly behind you.

you rubbed your hands over your face once it closed, exhausted from the physically and mentally tiring day. after peeling off your travel clothes to replace them with pajamas, you grabbed your phone from the pocket of your sweatpants now in a pile on the floor and crawled into your soft, comfy bed–not even bothering to throw the clothes in the hamper where they belong. you hoped that paige still had leftover pajamas in the dresser of that room, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care enough to check and make sure.

instead, you opened twitter. this was something you never did immediately following a game in fear of the hate comments about how bad you played and how you need to be kicked off, because there would always be those no matter how well you played–how many points you scored, or steals you got, or rebounds, or free throws made. this time, you couldn’t help it because of the events of the game.

and the very first one you spot when you look up your name in the search bar, then clicked latest, was a photo of you and paige hugging during that free-throw. the actual tweet attached to it?

do they know it’s legal

you blew a laugh out of your nose in amusement at the joke. admittedly, the hug did look pretty intimate without context, but you two were close off the court. so was it really that surprising? you clicked the back button to keep scrolling.

unprofessional af who yells at their coach like that

you didn’t disagree for sure, but it was unprofessional the way they handled her getting hit in the head, so you didn’t really care. and there were comments under it defending you for that.

it was justified imo the coach should’ve taken paige off immediately

well the was unprofessional so who cares

someone who is pissed that their coach doesn’t gaf?

there were all kinds of tweets criticizing the way coach chris handled the situation, talking about how he clearly doesn’t care about his players, and more stuff like that. you definitely didn’t think they were wrong, but you were careful not to accidentally like any of those tweets to keep yourself from being involved in drama.

you didn’t really know what you were expecting from scrolling besides maybe some criticism over how you handled it, and criticism how the coach handled it, but you didn’t expect the tweets you saw. there were many, many tweets speculating about how you two were definitely more than just friends or teammates because you reacted to so strongly.

the way y/n looks at paige like she’s the only girl in the world

wherever y/n is, paige is #noticing

i have a theory that they’re in love

yeah idk if her yelling at the coach like that was something u would do for just a friend

i’ve been thinking they’re in love but this just solidified it

there were hundreds more of them, too. and they went beyond just that game. people were pulling footage from earlier games, pictures and videos from practice, and pictures and videos from when you two were out in public, and the footage from the few times you two did your tunnel entrance together to find any detail they could use to prove that it was more than a friendship.

you scrolled for a while, getting way too deep in theories about yourself, giggling at particularly funny ones and ignoring the hate, trying not to think about why everyone thought you and paige were together. sure, she had definitely earned the title of your best friend, but you had never really thought of her as anything more. right?

you definitely thought she was pretty, but that was obvious. anyone with eyes could see that she was a gorgeous girl. and she was definitely the full package–funny, caring, sweet, kind, loving. there were a lot of things you loved and admired about her, but you had never thought of it as more than just platonic love. was paige seeing these tweets? you figured maybe it was better to not mention it.

after one particularly mean tweet, you slammed your phone down on your bed and pulled up your sheets to finally go to sleep.

though, you didn’t fall asleep. instead, you tossed and turned for hours trying to get your racing thoughts to slow down.

you couldn’t stop stressing about the way your coach handled the situation. if paige weren’t stuck on that team for the next three years, you probably would request a trade. well, you definitely could, but you didn’t want to leave her. who else would advocate for her? definitely not the coach. but you also just wanted to stay near her. you would miss her too much if you were on different teams.

you couldn’t help but wonder if that was a thought that someone who was more than a friend would have. it was definitely the tweets making you consider, because that would never be in the front of your mind otherwise–or the back, or, like, in your mind at all. and would someone who was just a friend even be stressing about it like this? you had to say probably not.

at around two in the morning, you crawled out of bed to grab a glass of water. you weren’t thirsty, but you hoped it would reset your mind and allow you to sleep. on your way to the kitchen, though, when you passed by paige’s door, you heard soft crying coming from the inside.

you stood in front of it for a moment, debating whether or not you should say something–if you should knock or just leave it. despite your judgement telling you to leave it because she probably wanted to be left alone, you slowly turned the knob and opened the door.

she was lying on her side, facing away from the door with her hair sprawled out behind her, but you could see her shoulders shaking slightly still. she didn’t turn around or acknowledge you, but you knew she heard the door open. you softly closed it, making sure it wasn’t too loud, then walked over to the bed. without any hesitation, you lifted the comforter up and crawled under. she was near the end of the bed, so you didn’t have to move much before you were right next to her. you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her back flush against your front.

she took a deep breath, and didn’t move except for her body relaxing in your touch. you waited for her to say something, but she remained silent, not letting any sobs escape either.

“paige?” you whispered into her hair. you chose your next words carefully, wanting to refrain from asking if she was okay because it was pretty obvious that she was not. “what’s going on?”

she sniffed, shaking her head just barely as a reply. that wasn’t surprising, though, because she had a bad habit of internalizing her emotions–especially the hard ones. she always felt like she needed to be the strong leader who shouldn’t show weakness in front of the people who count on her. unfortunately, sometimes it even extended into her life off the court too–getting her to talk about how she’s feeling if she’s anything but good can feel like untangling a necklace in the dark.

“you can talk to me, you know?” you tried again, tightening your arm around her slightly. “i’m not here to be anything but what you need.”

usually, you would probably start rambling some reassurance despite a lack of reply, but you weren’t sure what direction to take here. there were several things she could be upset about–getting injured, the coaching staff, sitting out of games, all of the above. and depending on what the issue was, she may not want to hear ramblings about something else.

“are you happy i was drafted here?” she asked finally, her voice laced with insecurity.

you were taken aback by that question, honestly. if there was one thing you were sure of about paige, it was that she moved with an unfaltering confidence in her accomplishments and hardly ever expressed anything other than that with them. it was refreshing and motivating to see someone so sure in their hard work, and it inspired you every day. this was much different than her usual mindset.

“what?” you asked, your tone maybe a little more snappy than you intended from the shock. you managed to recover before she could answer. “why do you ask that?”

“are you?” she pressed.

“of course i am,” you said, still confused. “before i even knew you, i was so happy you were drafted to us because you’re paige bueckers. now that i do, i’m so grateful that we got the first pick because i love having you in my life. it’s great to have page bueckers on my team, but it’s even better that i get the privilege to know paige,” you answered honestly, tracing small circles into her side with your finger. “you know i love you though, so seriously, what’s going on?”

she sucked in a breath, seemingly hesitant to give the true answer for her intense. for what reason, you weren’t sure. she should know you would never judge her no matter how silly anything she said seemed. and if she didn’t ask that question, you might’ve wondered if it was just the head injury talking.

“i don’t know. i just–this wasn’t how i expected my rookie season to go,” she almost mumbled.

you sighed, disappointed that she was beating herself up so much over it, but not disappointed in her. and to be honest, you didn’t really know what to say to her. you could sing so many praises over her name from her character off the court to her game, but this territory was different. obviously, no one could predict this happening, especially so early, but there’s nothing she can do to reverse it.

“i was supposed to be this player who came in, broke all these crazy records, and led the team to all these wins. instead, we’re losing all the time and i’m missing at least two games already because i slammed my fucking head into someone else,” she laughed bitterly.

“you are breaking records, at least,” you replied with an attempt at some humor to cheer her up a little bit.

“yeah, but that’s not good enough, apparently,” she said.

“according to who, paige? not according to me, your team, and the coaches. or your past teammates and coaches. so who cares what anyone else thinks? especially miserable people on the internet who could never do anything close to what you do in their lifetime.”

“you’re gassing me up,” she mumbled to try to lighten the mood, attempting to bite back the smile threatening to rise to her face at the praise. receiving compliments from you always made her feel better, no matter how down she was, and made her feel more accomplished than from anyone else.

“i’m just telling the truth,” you chuckled.

she shifted slightly, causing you to loosen your grip you had on your waist. she used the opportunity of movement to turn around so she was facing you, your arm not moving from around her and her arms loosely crossed in front of her chest.

suddenly, the thoughts about whether or not you truly were just friends or if you felt a little more came rushing to the front of your mind because of the proximity. your noses weren’t touching, but if you leaned forward ever so slightly, you could brush them together. not only that, but she was holding intense eye contact. but that’s just paige–she has insane eye contact no matter who she’s talking to.

you wondered if she was thinking about the closeness, too. if her heart was pounding against her ribcage right now, if she was too aware of her breathing. if you weren’t so close, you probably would be struggling to hold eye contact, but it was a little difficult not to now. there wasn’t much else to look at unless you awkwardly craned your neck.

your heart sank as your eyes scanned over her face to take in her appearance. in the moonlight glistening in through the window, you could see the tear streaks on her cheeks and her red rimmed, glassy eyes. her nose looked a little red where she had been wiping away snot, too.

“i messed it all up,” she said softly, her voice shaking a little. “i was supposed to come in and fix everything, to take the team out of the losing streak and keep it from staying at the bottom. we’re still losing no matter what we do, so i’m not sure i’m proving why i was the number one pick.”

you reached up to brush her hair back and tuck it behind her ear, then let your hand drift back down to her waist. you took a deep breath to collect your thoughts, too. she put way too much pressure on herself from the get-go, and you just didn’t know how to take it off her shoulders so she could finally feel relief. it was too much for one person.

“how are you not? weren’t you the first rookie to have a 20-piece this season? didn’t you set the record for the fastest player to get 60 points and 30 assists? aren’t you the second fastest rookie to get a points-assists double-double?”

“yeah, but we’re not winning,” she replied stubbornly, her voice lowering on the last word.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head a little. “so what? win or lose, your stats speak for themselves. i don’t care if people thought you were going to come in and we suddenly would be this unbeatable force. we’re a brand new team, it’s not something that can just rebuild overnight,” you explained. you knew that paige knew all of this, she had made that clear in her interviews, but apparently, she wasn’t listening when she said it. “i know it’s hard to lose so much after coming from uconn and off a national championship on top of that, but that’s way too much pressure to put on yourself.”

“i know, i know,” she sighed, closing her eyes. “but i was expected to make all these changes and instead, i had to get injured. again. i just wanted one season where i’m healthy for the whole thing.”

“that’s just not realistic, paige. you barely had any time between college and pro season. there was no rest for your body to recharge so you’re bound to get injured,” you said, stating the obvious yet again. but clearly she needed to hear it from someone else for it to really click. “this is your chance to rest.”

“i don’t want to rest. i want to play,” she complained, her voice a little whiny.

“too bad,” you said with raised eyebrows, indicating you were just messing with her by your tone. “but now you can relax, rest up, and come back in demon mode with a point to prove.”

she laughed. that intoxicating, adorable, genuine laugh that you loved to hear so much, the one that always brought a smile to your face and made butterflies erupt in your stomach at the sound.

“demon mode?” she questioned, raising an eyebrow, and poking the spot between your collarbones with her finger. “you spend too much time on online.”

“this would be better if you didn’t make fun of me for the methods i’m using to comfort you in your time of need,” you smiled fondly.

you couldn’t deny the sudden urge to lean forward, to change everything about your relationship right there by pressing your lips together in a kiss. it was almost too much for your brain to compute, though, because you had never felt that before. paige had always just been your little sister on the team, the girl who annoys you to the ends of the earth but you love her regardless. she wasn’t supposed to be the girl who made you feel like a teenager with a high school crush again.

did she feel it too? did she feel the same electricity that you did? or was there even any? were the comments just getting into your head?

“you make it too easy,” she smiled back.

“you’re so annoying,” you groaned, rolling over so you were lying on your back next to her and staring at the ceiling instead of at her. hopefully it would take some of the tension out of the air that was suffocating you. but then she giggled at your reaction. you tried to pretend it didn’t tug at your heartstrings.

you expected her to stay where she was, to keep the distance you had made between you two, but apparently she was full of surprises tonight. instead, she scooted toward you and wiggled her body down the bed so she could lay her head on your chest, one of her arms coming up to sling over your waist, tangling your feet together. instinctively, you wrapped the arm on that side around her body, resting on her back just above her hip.

“i really appreciate you trying to cheer me up, you know,” she said quietly. “and, like, i’m also glad i have you in my life.”

after she finished speaking, you had a serious internal debate on whether or not to reply in a serious manner. you knew she was trying to be serious and express genuine gratitude, but you had the perfect comeback after she just made fun of you. of course, you decided that nothing in life has to be too serious all the time.

“yeah?” you asked smugly. “well, i’m not sure if i am anymore. all you do is bully me.”

you could imagine she was smiling at your words. the classic paige smile that made you and everyone around her smile too, the contagious happiness that radiated from her like she was the sun.

“i’m here to keep you humble,” she replied. one of the things you loved most about her is her ability to not take things so seriously just like you, that she loved to joke around and try to put a smile on people’s faces, no matter what. “your head is already big, can’t let it get bigger than that. not on my watch.”

you gasped dramatically, your mouth dropping open in shock, tilting your head down to look at her to see if she really just had the audacity to say that. “what?!”

she tilted her head to look at you too, biting her lip to hold back the cackles she wanted to spill but it didn’t stop the smile.

“big head?!” you cried, your face a mix of confusion and annoyance at her words. “bitch, you better be joking with me right now.”

this time, she definitely cackled. the sound was loud compared to the quiet room, but you didn’t mind. you were just glad you were able to make her laugh this hard. it felt like you won an award every time you did, especially while on camera during media because then there was proof (and you could watch it back).

“it’s okay i still love you,” she replied, still somewhat laughing, reaching her hand up to pat you on the top of your head. “big head and all.”

“nah, get off me,” you said. you gave her a lethal side eye before pushing her off you somewhat roughly–only because you knew she wouldn’t move if you didn’t add a little force to it. she laughed loudly again, not even trying to latch on so you couldn’t push her off like you assumed she would.

instead, she rolled on her back, clutching her stomach from her inability to contain her laughter at your reaction. this time, the tears in her eyes were from joy instead of the endless pressure of expectations that come with being the number one pick on the worst team in the league.

you managed to hold in your laughter to not give her the satisfaction, instead sporting an annoyed expression as you stared at her and waited for her to finish. however, when she opened her eyes and saw your face, she couldn’t help but burst out laughing again.

“i regret coming in here,” you grumbled, crossing your arms across your chest. “if i had just kept walking, i could live peacefully in ignorance under the assumption that you thought i had a regular-sized head. life would've been better that way.”

she let her laughter die down while you were speaking, allowing her to be able to give a coherent reply, but she still couldn’t stop the giggles. “okay, okay. ‘m sorry.”

you stared at her, narrowing your eyes. “yeah, that wasn’t genuine. i’m going back to my own bed where there’s peace and quiet.”

before you can stand, or move at all really, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you toward her in protest. her face instantly dropped from her big, goofy grin into a sad expression paired with puppy dog eyes.

“wait,” she said, then used her free hand to touch her head and put an expression on her face like she was in pain. “ah, my head. it hurts so bad. i think i need you to stay here with me tonight. you know, to make sure i live to see the morning.”

you rolled your eyes at her antics, but it made you a little nervous. sure, you two were touchy, but it had never gone further into this territory. you had never shared a bed. that was a whole new game that you weren’t sure if you were ready to play. that was something so intimate, so trusting of one another–it felt a little more than friendly. maybe it was just you who thought that. you had shared a bed with so many friends before, especially as a teen, but this time felt different.

“you’re so dramatic,” you laughed, gently shoving her arm.

she didn’t reply. instead, she boldly rolled her body over so she was lying on top of you with her full weight, her head resting on your collarbone, and her arms thrown lazily above both of your heads. obviously, she wasn’t that heavy, so it didn’t bother you–she felt like a warm weighted blanket since she was pretty skinny for how tall she was. it definitely helped that you were the same height but actually had a little more meat on your bones than her, though.

you stayed still for a few moments, though, your brain glitching at the sudden contact of your bodies pressing together. your arms stayed awkwardly at your sides for a little too long, but then you slowly let them wrap around her body. she hummed in content at that, shifting slightly to get comfortable, her head seemed to nestle even further into your collarbone.

you tried to steady your breathing to slow your heart rate, not wanting her to notice how it was beating embarrassingly fast. hers was slow, like it didn’t bother her. it bothered you, though. not in a bad way, but in a down bad way. the weight of her body, the feeling of her heartbeat beating against your chest, the feeling of her breath fanning against your neck–god, you were in trouble.

“i’m feeling better already,” she said softly, breathing out a deep sigh.

“maybe i should’ve gone into nursing instead,” you joked, reaching up to brush all of her hair one side so it didn’t get in your face.

she shook her head against you as best as she could, tensing her body like she was squeezing you tighter even though her arms weren’t necessarily in the position to do so.

“then you would’ve never met me,” she argued, her tone dripping in the implication of what a ridiculous thing to say.

“darn, i’d have to live my life still thinking i have a regular-sized head,” you deadpanned, not allowing your tone to falter to anything but serious–not even letting a little giggle slip through the cracks. you were good at that kind of humor, though, and sometimes it made it impossible for your teammates to tell if you were being for real.

“somebody would’ve told you the truth eventually,” she giggled.

even though you had done it a million times tonight at her silliness, you didn’t roll your eyes. of course, if she was looking, you definitely would’ve, but there was no point if she couldn’t see it. instead, you paused, taking your bottom lip between your teeth in thought as you debated saying the words that were sitting heavy in the front of your mind, staring at the ceiling like you would find the answer for what you should do.

“you know, paige,” you started, your voice barely a whisper, sucking in a quick breath to ease your nerves. “i would’ve met you whether i went into nursing, you were drafted to a different team, or neither of us even played basketball. it doesn’t matter what could’ve happened because i would’ve always found you.”

she didn’t respond right away. the vulnerable words hung between you two heavily, yet it didn’t feel suffocatingly tense like you thought it would. instead, you were just glad you were able to get them out in the open to let her decide which direction to steer them in. she let them sink in before she opened her mouth, not wanting to say the wrong thing and mess up the moment.

you didn’t really know what you were expecting her to say, or even what you were hoping her reply would be. on one hand, you wanted her to say something equally as sappy so you didn’t feel alone in being emotional, and to know she felt the same way without needing to read between the lines. on the other hand, you wanted her to say something unserious, to diffuse the emotionally charged energy that was making the hair on your arms stand straight up–something that would imply that she felt the same, but didn’t straight up say it to leave a bit of wonder and make your heart flutter.

“for real?” she finally asked, her voice cracking like she didn’t fully trust that the words actually came out of her mouth. you could imagine she had a smile on her face and red, flushed cheeks, too.

you should’ve known she would’ve said something like that. no matter how many awards she won, how many compliments she received on social media from fans, and how many veterans treated her like she was a force to be reckoned with, she was still as humble as ever–still getting flustered when someone (particularly someone close to her) gives her praise about anything, especially when it wasn’t related to basketball.

“for real,” you replied, smiling to yourself.

she turned her head slightly to shyly rub her forehead against your collarbone like she was trying to hide from your gaze, even though she wasn’t in your line of sight. still, she felt warm and electric sitting there, like if she didn’t move she would be jolted. like your gaze was the one sending the electricity through the air even though it was trained on the ceiling instead of her. like she couldn’t believe you had said that to her and meant it.

“like…” she paused, picking at the sheet a little bit as she gathered her thoughts, “even if i lived in the woods off the grid with no way to contact the outside world?”

you huffed out a laugh at the question, not even surprised by her saying something ridiculous and stupid like that as a way to ask for reassurance without actually asking for it. you tightened your arms around her middle so you could shift slightly without moving her, but didn’t loosen them too much after.

“hm,” you hummed like you were unsure. then paused, pretending to seriously consider that it was a possibility and the solution to that problem. “yeah, i’d find a way. maybe one day i really felt the need to go hiking in those specific woods, and i just can’t shake the urge. so i go, then i accidentally run into your camp along the way. boom, i found you in that timeline. easy money.”

she laughed softly, a fondness laced into the sound, too. “you don’t even like hiking.”

“exactly, so if i suddenly have the urge to do something i hate, i better listen because it’s probably for a good reason,” you stated matter-of-factly, like you had already considered that. you were quiet for a few moments to give her a chance to reply, but she didn’t immediately give you one, so you spoke again. “have you ever heard of those philosophical theories of the universe or the ones in mythology?”

“no,” she answered. of course, the question was extremely vague so you expected to have to explain anyway. plus, you kind of figured, given her christian faith, that she didn’t read too far into that kind of stuff. you did though, just because it was interesting as the philosophy and history nerd you were.

“well, in philosophy, there’s the inevitability theory. it basically says that certain things in our life are predetermined and will unavoidably happen, no matter the choices we make. even if you could go back in time to do something totally different than the way you originally did–like if i had decided to take dance serious instead of basketball when i was eight–it would still cause those certain things to happen,” you explained, confidence dripping in your tone because this was definitely your niche. after all, you graduated college summa cum laude with a bachelor's of arts degree in philosophy with a double minor in history and mythology and theology.

again, you paused to let her reply or maybe ask a question to clarify. or even tell you she didn’t care–which she was too nice to say that to you out loud–but you were always worried that someone would tell you that while you were rambling about this kind of stuff since it can be boring to most people. but it didn’t matter, because she always cared when you talked to her about this stuff. not because she personally found it interesting enough to research on her own, but because she loved to listen to you speak about things you were passionate about. she wanted to hear about it purely because it was something you loved.

“in norse mythology, there’s the norns. they are three female beings who are said to be the most powerful beings in the universe because they control what happens to everyone in the universe, mortal and god, by weaving together the threads of fate,” you continued, running your fingertips gently up and down her spine.

her breathing was starting to slow like she was getting sleepy, but you continued talking anyway. “or, you might know this one from, like, tiktok or something; the red string of fate from east asian mythology. it’s been adapted from the original ancient theory to be more modernized to apply to more than just a romantic relationship between a man and a woman, though. basically, it says that two people are tied together with a red string that will eventually bring them together. the thread can be pulled and tangled, but it won’t break–to symbolize regardless of what happens or how far away they are from each other, they are destined to have a meaningful relationship together.”

“yeah, i’ve heard that one,” she mumbled, her voice having a trace of sleepiness when she spoke.

“or, like, in christian theology, there’s predestination–god has already chosen certain outcomes for us, but theologists think it’s supposed to be referring to being predestined for salvation. you could definitely interpret it to be about certain events being predestinated to happen, though. but it’s a calvinist theory, and kind of contradicts the premise of free will in the bible so it’s really debatable,” you said, lowering your voice slightly to hopefully aid in putting her to sleep instead of keeping her awake. you just hoped it was taking her mind away from the dark place it had wandered earlier.

again, you pause, waiting to see if she wanted to reply. she doesn’t, but you know she’s still awake because of the way her foot is shaking against yours. you had just thrown a lot of information (irrelevant information, at that) at her, so she could just be processing, but you hoped that she wasn’t shaking her foot to force herself to stay awake for your ramblings like this.

“if we want to get real unserious, i could tell you what they say about it in doctor who,” you said with amusement, testing to see if she was bored of you talking yet.

“doctor who?” she echoed, laughing afterwards. “you’re such a nerd.”

“basketball is just how i maintained my cool status. it’s not reflective of my true spirit,” you joked.

though, you were kind of serious. you definitely would’ve been considered one of those weird kids that people make fun of online if you weren’t so good at basketball. and, you hate to say it, if you weren’t conventionally attractive–both in your facial features and your tall stature and athletic build. at first glance, someone probably wouldn’t assume that you spent your free time reading history textbooks and nonfiction books at the library after practice, giving yourself unnecessary homework. or that you had a life-sized cutout of matt smith facing your bed.

not that your actual friends would’ve cared because they knew (of course, you had many sleepovers so it was hard to avoid them finding out) and didn’t mind hearing about your interests, but there were always those select few insecure, mean girls who hated when other people experienced joy–especially if the joy came from something they deemed to be cringe.

“tell me about it,” she replied gently. her finger moved down from where it was rested against the sheet by your head to trace over the neckline of your t-shirt, her fingertip occasionally brushing over your skin.

you tried not to let it distract you as you cleared your throat, desperately trying to will the information that had suddenly gone out the window to come back to your mind so you didn’t look suspicious. luckily, you managed not be too outwardly obvious that her touch was playing tricks on your mind.

“um, well, the doctor called the idea the burden of the time lords when he told donna that he couldn’t save everyone in pompeii eruption, even if he wanted to because it was a fixed point. it’s, like, an event that is so pivotal that even time lords can’t tamper with it because it has to happen or it would fracture time. it doesn’t have to happen exactly the way it originally did, but, like, the basic concept has to remain in tact. like how they ended up saving some people from pompeii but not all of them.”

with closed eyes, she moved the finger that was tracing over your neckline to tap you gently in the middle of your forehead a couple times. “big brain,” she chuckled sleepily, then returned her finger to its previous action. “it’s cool that you know so many things.”

you couldn’t fight the small smile that rose to your lips at her words of praise, feeling accomplished that she thought you were smart. her breathing started to slow again, though slower and deeper than before–indicating that this time she really was falling asleep. you switched from tracing over her spine to rubbing slow, gentle circles into her back with your palms.

though, before she could drift off into a peaceful sleep after her stressful day, she broke the silence once more.

“this is my fixed point,” she said, her voice quiet and breathy from her sleep quickly approaching to take her away.

you sucked in a deep, sharp breath in surprise, your hands stalling their movement on her back for a moment before recovering. though, you didn’t reply, knowing she probably wasn’t even still awake to hear it.

of all the things you assumed she would say, that was not one of them. it wouldn’t have been surprising if she agreed with you that meeting you would always happen no matter what, or even if she didn’t say anything at all. but that was probably the last thing you expected to hear.

it slapped you in the face with emotions you were not ready to confront, suddenly making you aware of how fast your heart was beating underneath her–it felt like it could burst out of your ribcage and run away. and you almost felt a little nauseated, too, just because of the overwhelming feeling.

this is my fixed point.

this moment. after hitting her head, being placed under concussion protocol, and told she would have to miss at least two games of her rookie season. after she had been bawling her eyes out over the expectations that people were pushing on her, the ones she was pushing on herself, and feeling more insecure over her game than she ever has. yet despite all of those things, she didn’t want this moment to be tampered with.

if you separated the moment of you two cuddling while she listened to you ramble about things she would’ve never known if it wasn’t for you–because she didn’t care about that stuff–from the reason you were even lying there with her in the first place (and only considered that part), you would understand. but when you considered everything that had taken place today, you figured she would’ve rather forget. even at the expense of forgetting this emotional moment.

you wanted to shake her awake, to demand an answer on what she meant by that. if it was a friendly statement or if she was feeling the same way you were–if it came from a place of unspoken feelings and doubts of ruining something that was already good.

but you didn’t, you let her sleep because you knew she needed it. so you closed your eyes and tried to will yourself to sleep, too.

the following morning, it was difficult to get up. it was probably the most difficulty you’ve ever had trying to pull yourself out of bed, actually. not because her entire body weight was still on top of you, because it wasn’t. she had rolled in her sleep so she was half on you and pressed against your side, her hand still placed where it was on the collar of your shirt last night. her mouth was dropped halfway open, and you could see a little puddle of drool on the pillow. if you hadn’t left your phone in your room, you probably would’ve taken a picture.

but despite how adorable and peaceful she looked, you had to get to the gym for practice.

you slowly and carefully peeled your body away from hers. instead of leaving her empty-handed, though, you grabbed one of the pillows she wasn’t using and slid it underneath her arm, gently setting down her hand on top of it like it was on you. she didn’t stir at all, clearly getting some much-needed deep sleep. after quietly closing the door behind you when you left, you covered your face with your hands and sighed deeply. even though you wished more than anything that paige could come to practice, you were glad to get some separation so you could think over not just what happen last night, but the way you were feeling after.

you tried to push it to the back of your mind while you got changed, put your hair in a ponytail, and grabbed your keys off the island where they were. you glanced at where she had thrown her bag last night when you first walked in, noticing that the space was now empty. she probably walked out and grabbed it after you were already lying in bed.

and you managed to drown out the thoughts on your drive to the arena, turning the volume up in your car to fifty and playing songs that you knew couldn’t possibly relate to the situation, even if you squint. though, you didn’t sing along like usual, just stared ahead at the road with a tense grip on the steering wheel.

practice was a great distraction. despite the comments about paige not being there from the coaches and teammates, and your teammates asking if she was doing okay, you managed to keep your mind pretty fixed on the task at hand. you channeled all those feelings into the defensive drills, knocking down your teammates and practice players with the same aggressiveness as usual–only subtly turned up just a notch. you would have to really know your game to know that you were playing different than usual. paige definitely would’ve known.

you didn’t even think about it as you moved across the floor swiftly, executing the drills effortlessly. that is, until it was time for the usual end-of-practice shoot-around. there were no team drills, no team activities, just working on your shots in your own (or with a partner or small group, if you wanted) with one of the assistant coaches. this would usually be the time that the media team was able to capture the most amount of footage of you and paige messing around for the instagram page, whether it was a candid shot or something organized.

and that made it impossible not to think about her and your feelings for her.

you were so confused, rightfully so, about what exactly was going on. did you even feel anything more than friendly for her or are you just letting the comments play tricks on you? had the thought of being more than friends ever crossed her mind, even if it was just once? did she feel the energy shift between you last night?

she had to have. it felt so obvious. the air in that room was so thick, you’re not sure that a chainsaw was powerful enough to cut it.

is her feeling that energy why she said what she said? did she even realize she said it or was she speaking in a half-asleep daze? would she stress about it like you are right now? was she trying to convince herself it meant nothing? did it mean nothing?

god, there were so many thoughts racing through your mind all at once, you genuinely considered slamming your head against the brick wall of the gym to get them to quiet down. but that wouldn’t do you any good, you’d be placed in concussion protocol too. and that would definitely look a little suspicious on your part if you got them so close together, and if they published the reason you were placed in it.

even though you had only been shooting for five minutes, you decided to take a water break try to calm down a little bit after missing three mid-range jumpers in a row. it wasn’t even that shots weren’t landing like they were supposed and generally having a bad shooting day, you were just barely paying attention to what your body was doing, what your form looked like, and if they were going to go in–your mind somewhere else entirely.

you sat on one of the folding chairs, reaching under it to grab your water bottle. your phone was sitting next to it on the floor and for some reason, you hesitated–debating on if you should grab it or not. it was common for you to bring your phone on the floor like this, just because it made you feel less anxious having it close in case something were to happen, but you, pretty much, never checked it until practice was over. you didn’t really have a reason to.

the only person you wanted to talk to was standing right there on the court with you.

and maybe the unusual, overwhelming urge you had to check your phone while practice was still running because she wasn’t there. you snatched it from it’s position on the wood, quickly tapping the screen to see the notifications you had missed. you tried to bite back the smile when you saw paige’s name at the top from imessage.

boogie

y’all miss me yet or what

once, after practice was over and the team was still hanging around waiting for one of the coaches to grab something from the locker room so you could have your post-practice meeting, you all got in a group discussion about nicknames that they were given by your respective high school and college teams. after she said the important ones like p and paige buckets, she mentioned one of her lesser known nicknames, p boogers, that was used a lot during the 2023-2024 season by her teammates at uconn, specifically kk–who was the one who came up with it–but it was only used periodically after that.

of course, you were determined to give it a comeback because it was hilarious. even though when you were verbally speaking to someone, you didn’t use nicknames that much, you decided to utilize it other ways. like changing her contact name to that, and you had used it in a few instagram captions and comments. and between those captions and comments, it had somehow evolved from p boogers to boogie. you don’t even remember how, but you don’t think you’ve ever actually called her either of those names when speaking to her. unless someone introduced themselves with a nickname when you met them, you mainly just used their name. whatever name they introduced themselves with, whether it was their full first name or a nickname, was the one you stuck with and you rarely ever didn’t follow this unspoken rule you had made for yourself.

your fingers moved quickly across the screen to type in your passcode after your face id denied and opened the imessage app, trying to remind yourself that you couldn’t sit here for too long and needed to get back to shooting. not that it mattered too much because the coaches wouldn’t say anything, you’re a professional. they don’t babysit you anymore like in high school and college.

you

nah

we actually don’t need u anymore sorry

boogie

you’re supposed to be miserable without me

you

why would i be

i can actually get shots up without this random annoying girl trying to distract me

boogie

don’t know why you’re complaining

i’m just simulating real game situations

it’s important to practice how u play

you

real situations huh

nobody is gonna try to pants me in the middle of a game

boogie

u never know

now i’m gonna do it to prove to u that it can happen

you

bruh we’re on the same team

u just want to see me without pants sooo bad

boogie

maybe i do 👀

you nearly choked on your own spit as the clearly flirty message came in. you and paige didn’t really have the type of friendship for you to brush it off as nothing, too. you two were often physically close, complimented each other, and said that you loved each other often (often being everyday, of course), but never straight up flirted with one another, even as a joke. you only “flirted” if an outside observer perceived a conversation as flirty while listening in, like when you would compliment each other on the court or hug in the tunnel, but it was never like that on purpose. and you don’t think that really counted anyway.

you

gonna start tying my shit extra tight

and avoiding u at all costs

if u need to talk to me, you’ll have to yell across the court bc that’s as close as i’m getting

boogie

☹️

i’m never coming back

you

thank god

get off ur phone concussed ass

as soon as you pressed send on the second message, you threw your phone back under the chair and shot out of your seat to get back to working on your shots. the short break definitely didn’t help because your shot accuracy is just about the same as when you started, if not worse. not that you were surprised, because now you had all new material for this situation to stress over that was fresh in your mind.

that message could’ve meant nothing. she could’ve been playing around, flirting as a joke, not really meaning for you to take it so seriously and stress about it. but that wasn’t really like her, her humor wasn’t like that–at least, with you. you had to wonder if she was being bolder after sharing a bed, which she was, for sure, that was obvious. but was it because you shared a bed, and cuddled all night on top of that? was she also battling with the same internal struggle as you were, trying to decipher hidden meanings behind everything that probably weren’t even there in the first place?

“have you talked to paige today?” a voice broke you from your trance.

you froze in place at her name. you tried your best to be nonchalant about, though, as you shifted the ball you were holding to rest on your hip, turning your body to the culprit. it was maddy, of course. you had been fairly close with her ever since you got drafted together. you knew of each other in college, following each other on instagram, but you never talked to her before that. obviously not as close as you were with paige, but you were still good friends.

“uh,” you started, scrambling to rack your mind for a good answer that wasn’t literally oh yeah, she stayed the night and we slept in the same bed, no biggie, she’s as good as she can be. but you were overthinking that anyway. would it really be that weird to say she slept over? probably not, it wasn’t a secret that you two were close outside of work, and you both had mentioned sleeping over at each others’ apartments multiple times. it felt different to admit it this time though, like you were talking to someone new and trying to keep it quiet in case it doesn’t work out. instead of being honest about the sleepover, you just went with your safest option while still maintaining honesty. “yeah, she was just texting me.”

“is she doing okay?” maddy asked genuinely. she didn’t seem to be suspicious of your behavior. yet, anyway. “i feel so bad for her.”

“yeah, um, she’s okay. pretty bummed about missing so much, but what can you do, you know? she was just asking me if we missed her yet,” you replied, sliding in the last part to ease the tension you had worked up.

maddy laughed. “i’ll check in on her later. my phone is in my locker and i assumed you had spoken to her since i last saw her anyway, so i figured i could ask you for now in case she doesn’t want to talk to anyone.”

“i know she’d love to hear from you,” you said genuinely, shooting her a reassuring smile.

“i’ll let you get back to shooting,” she said as she walked down the court to the other hoop where she had come from.

you shook your head to try to shake some of the awkwardness out of you from that interaction because there was no reason for you to feel awkward. it didn’t mean anything that she had asked you about paige instead of just texting her herself, especially because she probably knows that concussion protocol says to limit screen time.

you managed to get through the rest of the shoot-around without a problem, though it passed by way faster than you hoped it would. to make up for it, you decided to shower here at the arena instead of at home which was a rarity. and you didn’t even check your phone either.

yes, you were literally only doing it to prolong seeing paige again. she probably wasn’t even still in your apartment unit, though, so you don’t know why you felt the need to do it. you loved her, seeing her, spending time with her. yet, today it felt like the last thing you wanted to do. it wasn’t her fault, either, it was you and your stupid feelings. you didn’t need to complicate things like this when she’s recovering from a potential injury, especially one that could be as serious as that.

but that was the other thing, it wasn’t even complicated. you were just making things up in your head to justify your avoidant behavior at this point.

your heart pounded the entire drive home in anticipation, your palms getting more and more sweaty the closer you got to the building. you found yourself subconsciously looking to see if her car was there, and it was, parked in her assigned spot. duh, she can’t drive by herself, you muttered to yourself.

when you walked through the front door of your apartment, not even bothering to turn the light on, you were greeted with the sound of silence rather than paige’s voice. the couch was empty and the tv switched off, but she could still be in the bedroom? she is supposed to be sitting in the dark. before you could turn to go down the hallway and check, you noticed a paper sitting on the counter of the kitchen.

of course, you couldn’t ignore the curiosity bubbling up inside you, so you walked over to it somewhat cautiously. you’re not sure why, because who else would’ve written it besides paige? it’s not like someone is going to break in your house and leave you a convenient little note to apologize before leaving, or that a murderer would wait for you to read it before they killed you.

when you picked up the paper and got a good look, you would’ve recognized that handwriting anywhere.

i would say i hope you had a good practice but i know you didn’t because i wasn’t there

went back to my apartment to shower and change

please text me when you’re back!!!

– love,

your favorite basketball player of all time

the funniest person you know

the best part of your day

the reason the sun rises every morning

the source of your happiness

the reason you haven’t requested a trade yet

you laughed when you saw all the names she added to her signature, not at all surprised by any of them. you did as the note said, pulling out your phone to shoot her a text to let her know you’re back. she had replied back from earlier, too, when you were texting her during practice.

boogie

yes m’am

it was simple and casual, but it still made your stomach flip a little bit. it shouldn't have, but goddamn, you were down atrocious over this girl.

you

my fav player is a’ja but i love the confidence!

boogie

so you’re rooting for the enemy?

you

be fr

boogie

i’m just saying

that’s like betrayal

i’m ur fav wing at least right

you

in ur dreams

boogie

😥

open the door

you immediately glanced toward the front door, then back at your phone, debating whether it was necessary to answer. ultimately, you decided to just walk over and open it rather than put in the effort to reply and open it. it’s been a long day, what can you say?

when you swung it open, you were met with the sight of paige, her purple glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled back into a messy low bun, dressed in a random team hoodie, black nike sweatpants, white socks, and slides on her feet, and her lips pulled in a grin when she saw you.

you stepped to the side to let her in, closing the door as she sat herself on the couch like she had done so many times before. however, it felt like the first time. it felt like an awkward first date with someone you matched with on a dating app where you’re so nervous you can hardly catch your breath, but they seem as cool as can be.

just like the night before, you ordered food off of her doordash account, putting on a movie to watch while you enjoyed it. you told her what you did in practice, conveniently leaving out any parts that would involve confessing that you really did miss her being there, even if it had only been one day. you could tell she was already really missing being there too by the sad glint in her eyes and the way her smile didn’t quite reach them.

you knew that paige hated missing training, especially for injuries. she had spent so much of her time at uconn injured, that she wanted to have a clean slate and start her professional career off right with a completely healthy season for once. but that goal was over almost as quickly as it began. she barely even had a chance to prove why she really was the number one pick, the girl everyone was raving about, the girl everyone said was on the same level on the greats. you just wished you could take that pain away that you knew was eating her up.

for the rest of the evening, you sat on the couch with her in your dark living room. as you were sitting on opposite ends, your feet were tangled together in the middle under the giant blanket you were sharing. you had the tv going, though it was softly playing some medical show, mostly for you as she took periodic naps. you had figured out how to turn the brightness of the screen down, too, hoping to reduce any strain in case she wanted to watch when she was awake.

you were growing more and more anxious over the possibility of her sleeping over again as each minute ticked by. you definitely wouldn’t mind if she did, but there was a game tomorrow. before she was put in protocol, she made sure to always be in bed by 8pm the night before a game to prioritize her rest, for recovery purposes, and try to keep her body as healthy as possible.

you definitely weren’t as strict with yourself as she was, but she always tried to impose her pre-game rules on you. even though you weren’t worried about that kind of stuff like she was, you always followed along. because if a girl with a player bio that extensive was telling you that doing something would make you a better player, you’re obviously going to do what she says. though, you have yet to notice a big jump in your stats and you never felt much different either, you always assured her that it was definitely helping and you definitely felt much better than before. just a little white lie to make her happy and put a smile on her face, of course.

to no surprise, once the clock read seven-thirty, she jumped to her feet.

“time for you to get ready for bed,” she said with a smirk, holding out her hand to help you up off the couch. “big game tomorrow. you gotta avenge me.”

you rolled your eyes while shaking your head to feign annoyance, but took her hand anyway. she yanked you up easily, but put too much momentum into it, causing you to stumble forward and crash into her chest.

“woah,” she said, the word slipping out without permission.

your hands landed on her waist in a subconscious effort to stay upright, but you quickly pushed yourself away from her, putting a little more distance than necessary between the two of you. when her face contorted a little in confusion, you mentally cursed at yourself for the insane reaction. there was literally no reason for you to do that, to make it a bigger deal than it was. you were just trying to not make it awkward–which, of course, made it a hundred times more awkward than it would've been.

after a few moments of observing you, she broke the silence. “um, are you good?” she asked slowly, seemingly unsure of where to tread.

“yeah, i–um–” you started, then paused, pointing your finger towards nothing as you searched for an excuse somewhere, anywhere in your brain that would make even a little bit of sense. you came up with nothing, though, because there really was no good excuse for that. “i just wasn’t expecting to fall was all.”

you avoided eye contact as you waited for a reply, hoping that she would believe it. if she couldn’t see you right now, you would drop on your knees and plead to whatever god–or entity or whatever else people worship–was listening that she believed it and didn’t question you further, maybe you would even offer your firstborn child to get out of it. or maybe selling your soul would be better?

apparently, no one was listening.

“yeah,” she said, clearly not at all convinced. “you’ve been weird since you got home. was it that text i sent you at practice? because i swear i was just–”

before she could finish her sentence, you cut her off. “no, no. it’s not that. i’m just–” you paused, once again looking for any excuse that you could possibly latch onto and run with. “–nervous about the game tomorrow.”

“right,” she replied slowly, furrowing her brows in confusion. you couldn’t tell if she straight up didn’t believe you or if she was trying to decide whether or not she did, but this time, she didn’t press it. she threw her hand up before she opened her mouth, using her thumb to point at the door. “i’m gonna head out. text me when you wake up so we can get breakfast before you have to be there?”

“of course,” you nodded, watching as she started walking toward the door. “rest up, paige.”

she didn’t reply, but stuck her hand and the air and pointed up as acknowledgement as she grabbed the doorknob, pulled it open, then shut it softly behind her.

you blew out a breath of relief, grateful for that terribly awkward interaction to be over so you don’t have to be drowning in it anymore. you wanted to punch yourself in the throat for acting like this, but you had been spiraling all day about whether or not you had feelings for paige, romantic feelings so now everything felt so much more emotionally loaded than before. but was it different than before?

you made an attempt to collect yourself as you stood there, contemplating whether or not you should just crawl in a hole and die to avoid having to reflect on that interaction again. the decision was that maybe it wasn’t the best idea the night before a game, or just in the middle of the season in general. maybe once the season ends, you’ll find a nice wooded area somewhere in the middle of nowhere when you can dig a hole to spend the rest of your days in. maybe in appalachia? no one goes in those woods because they’re afraid to see something supernatural. or maybe the mountains of utah? though, you weren’t the biggest fan of snow so the winters would be hard. god, this could've been avoided if you just approached these situations like a normal person instead of making them ten times worse than they had to be.

you slapped your palms against your forehead, both as a punishment and to get yourself out of your head. after taking a few calming breaths, you moved toward your bedroom to do as paige said–get ready for bed. you could only hope to get even five minutes of sleep tonight though, knowing the interaction, the sleepover last night, the new feelings, and the flirty texts she had sent would haunt you every time you closed your eyes. well, they were haunting you even with your eyes open, so there wasn’t much hope there. damn, you were going to play like shit the next day if you couldn’t chill out.

without thinking twice or even allowing yourself to consider skipping, you pushed open the door to the bedroom and then the one to your en suite bathroom as well to turn on the shower. the water was hot against your skin, turning it red on contact, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. it’s not like it hurt anyway, it just looked like it did.

your eyes stared intensely at the water going down the drain, wishing you could wash away with it. at this point, your thoughts were racing through your mind so quickly, you couldn’t even settle on just one to stress over, so you felt a little fuzzy–or maybe disconnected was the better word. you barely even blinked too, meaning you were in a classic state of dissociation.

you didn’t know how long you stood there just staring, barely blinking, unmoving, but the water running cold snapped you back into reality. you nearly jumped out of your skin when you felt it, quickly reaching to turn off the water. you grabbed a towel of the hook and wrapped it around your body, turning to face the mirror above the sink.

“chill the fuck out,” you whispered, making eye contact with yourself in the mirror. “you’re working yourself up over nothing.”

the night goes by in a blur, mostly because you actually managed to fall asleep fairly quickly. you had not expected to until at least three or four in the morning because you didn’t feel tired at all, not even a little bit, even when your head hit the pillow. still, you closed your eyes to try to will your stress away, and they didn’t open back up until you heard your morning alarm going off on the nightstand next to you.

unfortunately, the new day is no different than the one before.

you decided to skip the breakfast with paige, feeling too nauseous to eat.

the stress was eating away at you at the pre-game practice–your legs were jiggling every time you found yourself sitting on the bench, your fingers constantly fidgeting with each other, shifting your weight from one leg to the other every couple of seconds while you were standing restlessly.

your mind was plagued with thoughts about paige. about how she felt laying in your arms or how she seemed to fit so perfectly into your side like a puzzle piece. the way she listened to you ramble about your stupid history shit she didn’t care about like it was the most interesting movie she had ever watched, and how she would smile to herself when you would watch a sporting event with her that she knew you didn’t care for, like a football game. the way your minds felt connected while you were on the court together, like she knew what your next four moves would be before you could even compute them yourself, or the way you always knew if her shot was going to go in before it even left her hand.

how you felt sick to your stomach watching her collide with vandersloot and tumble to the floor. the sense of dread that washed over you when you realized she was lying about not having a headache after. how you couldn’t even stop yourself to think things through and calm down before you were screaming at your coach, the worry taking over you like a demon controlling every action.

the way her voice sounded as she asked you for reassurance later that night, as she let you see how truly buried in insecurity she felt. the way she blamed herself for the losses of your team rather than pointing a finger at anyone else. how puffed up her eyes were the following morning after how much she cried over it.

how if she were there in that gym with your team, she would be passing around compliments to everyone for every little thing without a second thought. how she would be dancing to the music playing over the speakers while standing in place like a dork. how she would look towards you immediately every time she did something well–even before looking toward the coaches, or would shoot you a tight-lipped smile when she didn’t. how she would be smiling like an idiot when she effortlessly made the half-court shots, throwing her hands up like it was all in a day’s work. because it was, to her.

she was the ray of sunshine you desperately needed. that the teamandorganization desperately needed.

if paige had been texting you as pre-game practice went on, then as you were getting ready for the game, or as you were arriving to arena again, you didn’t know. you didn’t even look at your phone, but had put it on do not disturb so she didn’t think you were seeing them and ignoring her. it wasn’t even on purpose either, your mind was just too occupied to even think about picking it up. you contemplated turning it off completely before the game, but you didn’t want to do that without telling her first so she wouldn’t assume you blocked her.

well, she probably wouldn’t, but things were a little too out of the ordinary right now for you to be considered mentally stable enough to be making rational assumptions.

when they called the starting lineup, you didn’t even want to hear them say someone else instead of hers, watching them high-five the line instead of her. and when you were standing around the circle waiting for the tip-off, you barely managed to hide the disappointment when it was nalyssa standing across from you instead of paige, who would be nodding at you as her silent way of saying lock in if she was there.

and to make the game, that was bad before it even started, worse, you played like shit, throwing out any possibility of joking about getting your lick back from the team who sidelined your best player. you tried not to think about the fact that you could pretty much guarantee she was sitting on the edge of her couch in her apartment, watching you play probably the worst game you had played since getting drafted (or maybe even in general over your entire career), and how obvious it was that she carried your team on her back like a seasoned veteran despite being a rookie.

you felt like a hot mess on the floor, and you probably looked like one to all the spectators and even those watching on the livestream too. like you had never played basketball in your life and just casually threw on a jersey before walking onto the court. like you were playing a video game for the first time ever as a kid, trying to navigate the controls while pretending you knew what you were doing, as if they didn’t seem like a foreign language to you. if you didn’t have a coach who believed in peace, harmony, and togetherness, he probably would’ve said the same things–or worse. if you were still playing for your college coach, you most likely would’ve left crying. instead, this coach just tossed out some empty statements: it’s okay, we’re learning, we’ll get ‘em next time, let’s focus on working together.

and goddamn, you were genuinely thinking about sprinting home to print your trade request paperwork and fill them out tonight to keep in preparation for the absolute shit show this season would turn out to be. so they are ready for you to turn in the second the season ends, and you don’t have to endure more of this hell than you are contractually obligated to. especially if paige doesn’t clear protocol after the seattle game.

well, if the organization didn’t trade you before you had the chance to do so. after your outburst in the last game and your god awful stat line–so shitty a fifth grader on a recreation team probably has better numbers–from this one, you wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if they tried to rush you out the door and didn’t look back before you could finish out your season.

but really, you wouldn’t be that mad if they did. you couldn’t stand this laid-back coaching style of this new coach one bit, and the fact that the new general manager supported it and continued to ignore the concerned comments from dedicated fans? like it actually irritated you to a point you didn’t know was possible to see this guy stay calm and collected during intense moments instead of getting loud. or when he would stand by the bench quietly, staring like that would do anything, instead of standing on the court arguing with the refs like he didn’t care that he could get a technical foul or two, or even be ejected.

if you had told your college self that you missed being yelled and cussed at just for dumb little mistakes even if they were unavoidable, or watching your coach throw chairs (mind you, it was never in the direction of the players and most often because of bad ref calls), or getting automatically ejected because he got t’d up twice for being on the court, you would’ve laughed in your face and begged to trade places for someone more chill.

guess it’s true when they say you don’t know what you got until it’s gone.

admittedly, it got you so heated, you had created two burner, anonymous accounts on different platforms to scroll through tweets and comments on reddit threads criticizing coach chris. not that you weren’t doing it before they were created, but then you didn’t have to worry about accidentally liking one and that getting spread around tea pages. it was just better if you kept the hatred internal and keep the assumptions that you weren’t a fan of his as assumptions rather than making it obvious publicly by being messy like that. it was already unprofessional enough that you were doing it in the first place, but you had to reassure yourself that you–and your team, of course–weren’t the only ones noticing these things.

maybe at some point in the season there would be something so diabolical that it would be the turning point for you to like the hate posts publicly with your name and profile picture and all. something that would make it hard for everyone to tell the difference between you and kendrick lamar. something that would have you tapping into your full hater potential, dropping diss tracks that name-dropped him and criticized everything you could possibly criticize with nothing safe from being mentioned–starting with that dumb man bun that he feels the need to clutch onto. maybe it would even extend to the general manager too since he was an enabler for the shitty coaching, like how kendrick mentioned j. cole just once in like that, but didn’t do it again. or maybe something like his verse on big sean’s control.

you didn’t know the general manager personally so you didn’t hate him in the same way as your coach, with the same amount of passion pulled from deep inside your core that could be felt burning throughout your entire body from the top of your scalp to the tips of your toes. but it was enough that he was encouraging the shitty coaching by staying passive instead of intervening and firing the coach that isn’t delivering results to have a strong distaste for him. and not only that, he chose this guy who looks like he owns one of those overpriced trendy burger restaurants where they give you mason jars instead of cups and metal trays instead of plates for $30, fries not included–or like a temu version of jesus, as paige’s fans would say–instead of someone like the lisa leslie, a legend in women’s basketball.

but even with how early you were in season, you definitely felt like you had collected enough material on the coach to embody the lethal, poisonous spirit of the world-destroyer atomic bomb that is meet the grahams. if he hasn’t figured this shit out by now–that something just isn’t working, isn’t clicking–then you’re not sure he ever will. and it’s obvious the problem isn’t with the players on team.

maybe before nobody wanted to really get into his faults since this was his first season in the league, they wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but you just couldn’t sit there quietly and hope things would get better anymore. you couldn’t excuse his behavior. not after he watched paige slam her head hard into someone else’s, fall to the ground, then see his entire lineup circle around her to make sure she was okay, just to keep her in the game without even briefly (at the absolute bare minimum) checking on her before it resumed. not after he claimed in an interview that he didn’t see it happen. even though when you watch the livestream back, you can clearly see him standing there next to the score table watching it all go down like it was normal and nothing to be concerned about.

you tried to understand his thought process behind that so many times, to try to understand why he handled that the way he did, but you just couldn’t.

god, the anger burning up had your fingers itching to pick up a pen and write your own version of kendrick’s euphoria. it was so fitting for this situation too–the title referencing drake’s overconfidence in his ability to win the battle, and that fits because chris was overconfident in his ability to coach. but you digress.

it was so hard to bottle in your frustration with how your professional career was moving, but that was all you could do to keep the image you had built for yourself. the level headed player who rarely got in fights with other players and refs, and was often diffusing the tension between other players on the court whether they were on your team or not. you never found yourself on the cusp of bursting like this in college so it was easier to keep your composure, but this organization was really testing your patience.

after the game, you had wandered into a side hallway immediately following the post-game locker room talk, needing some quiet time to collect your thoughts and chill the fuck out before you headed home–before you got behind the wheel. you pressed your forehead against the cool brick, rubbing your hands roughly over your cheeks, your breath coming out a lot shakier than you thought it would.

you felt yourself spiraling. was feeling like this really worth being able to say you played professional basketball? was pushing through really worth it at the expense of your mental wellbeing? was it really worth it to stay and lose any love left you had for the sport instead of leaving it on a high note before it got too bad?

maybe you were being dramatic, because it really wasn’t even that bad. there were many players who had it significantly worse than you, issues with their organizations that were personal, beyond the game of basketball. and it wasn’t that you were losing. you were used to losing considering last year’s season was rough enough to land you with the number one pick, but not like this. and this was one extra shitty game, so what? you’re supposed to brush it off and come back even better at the next one; you used to be able to do that just fine.

but you didn’t know how you would do that when it was like this coach just did not give a fuck. nothing ever changed, corrections were never made, and every play felt like a free-for-all instead of a cohesive play, and then he wondered why you could never hold onto a lead to save your life.

you tried to think of any reason to stay for the rest of the season. to at least stay in dallas until october instead of requesting a midseason trade or taking the rest of it off for personal reasons. anything that could even influence your decision to leave just a little bit. and there was one.

paige.

she was your reason. she made it tolerable even when it felt like you couldn’t last another day. she made you remember why you loved the game so much, why you had dedicated your entire life to it.

you scrambled to grab your phone from where it was tucked into the waistband of your shorts, giving yourself silent praise for grabbing it from your locker before leaving the locker room. when you tapped the screen and the while in do not disturb tab, you had quite a few missed texts from paige and you immediately felt terrible for ignoring her all day.

boogie

good luck today bestie boo

you’re the best ever so i know u don’t need it

i’ll be watching from the couch seething with jealousy but i’m happy i can put my full attention into watching u do ur thing out there

i’ll try to sit still and not get a noise complaint but no promises

you smiled, wondering how you ever got so lucky to have someone like her in your life. you wish that everyone could experience someone as supportive as her, whether it was a friend or partner.

boogie

wait you’re on dnd

okayyyy miss locked in

triple double watch baby‼️

damn i wish i was there

um ty to whoever approved the rebel uniforms

u look so good girl

jealous of everyone who gets to see it in person tonight

you felt heat rush to your cheeks reading the compliments from her. again, it wasn’t something that was abnormal for you two, but it hit you harder this time. you glanced down at your uniform, wondering if she intended it the way you were taking it. there were more messages, but they started to get into commentary about the gameplay, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to get into that while it was so fresh in your mind.

instead, you tapped her contact photo and pressed call, raising your phone to your ear with a shaky hand.

“hello?” she asked, her voice instantly making you feel better.

“paige,” you breathed, an unexpected choked sob leaving your lips and tears welling in your eyes. you hadn’t expected to cry, you would’ve expected to punch wall before you cried tonight. this must’ve been the point where it became too much, finally spilling over.

“hey,” she said, her voice softening in a way that you had never heard before, “it’s okay.”

“i wish you were here,” you replied, ignoring her attempt at being reassuring. you appreciated it, but it wasn’t what you needed to hear to start feeling better.

“i know,” her voice was small, like she was trying to be careful about the words she used to keep your emotions from spilling again. “i know. i wish i was there too. i miss playing with you already.”

“i played like shit today,” you blurted. it came off a little snappy, but you hoped she understood that it was just because you were frustrated with yourself.

she hesitated for a moment, trying to decide whether she wanted to be reassuring or lighten the mood. “you said it not me,” she said finally, her tone playful while still trying to be careful. you were grateful for it though, because you knew she was only trying to make you laugh and cheer you up. and it was the truth, anyway, so her denying it would be a lie.

“asshole,” you muttered, but with a fond smile on your face. “i’m bawling my eyes out over here and you’re just kicking me while i’m down.”

it wasn’t actually the truth, you weren’t crying, tears hadn’t fallen yet, but you felt like you could. you honestly felt like you could sob until your throat was raw and you lost your voice–until you didn’t have any tears left. but the sob when you answered the phone and the shakiness in your voice as you spoke probably gave her the impression that you were.

“you want me to lie to you?” she asked seriously, but you could hear the smile on her face despite her tone. “because i can. i can pull all kinds of sweet things out of my ass for you right now, if that will make you feel better.”

you laughed, shaking your head at her in amusement even though she couldn’t see it. “that would probably make me feel worse. you’re not very good at lying.”

“a blessing and a curse,” she replied.

“how is it a blessing?”

“bruh, i don’t know. it just felt like the right phrase to use,” she said defensively. you could imagine she threw her hands in the air like she usually did when you were actually speaking to each other.

“you’re dumb,” you giggled. she laughed with you, just happy that you shifted to a much happier tone compared to when you first called, even if it meant you were making fun of her. not that she would ever take it too seriously from you, anyway, because you would never mean it maliciously.

there were a few moments of silence before she spoke again. “are you still at the arena?”

you glanced around like she had caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been, like you were trespassing despite being in your own facility. when you remembered she couldn’t see you, you lowered your voice sheepishly. “um, no.”

“i would offer to come get you, but,” she said, drawing out the u in the last word a little, “there’s a pretty big chance that someone will see me and i’ll get my ass chewed for not following protocol.”

“i don’t think getting caught should be the part you’re concerned about here,” you replied, your tone a little sassy as you said it. “maybe we should be worrying about the fact that you would get in trouble because you might have a brain injury. knowing what happens if it doesn’t heal correctly should be enough motivation to keep you from getting behind the wheel, dipshit.”

you threw in the name at the end to ease the tension of your words, because you were serious. you didn’t want her to brush it off like was just broken nail or something.

“you’re no fun,” she grumbled.

“you know what else isn’t fun?” you asked, pausing like you were waiting for an answer, but you continued before she could. “post concussion syndrome, second impact syndrome, chronic traumatic encephalopathy–”

“okay, okay,” she interrupted, her tone mildly exasperated. “i hear you, damn. i’m trying to make you feel better and you’re turning it into a lecture.”

“i would feel better if you took this seriously,” you said sternly.

“i am taking it seriously. it’s just–the possibilities for how this could turn out are really scary and i don’t want to actually think about what happens if i don’t get cleared,” she confessed. “but we’re not talking about me right now, we’re supposed to be focusing on you.”

you blew a breath of your nose. “has anyone ever told you that you’re, like, a pro at deflecting?”

“yes, quite a few times actually, all from the same person,” she said. “but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

your lips parted in surprise at her words. “you’re mean.”

“well, can you blame me? i’m getting impatient waiting for you here,” she stated like it was obvious. you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, biting your lip to try to hide the smile threatening to rise.

“waiting for me, huh?” you teased.

she paused to debate if she wanted to say the joke that instantly came to her mind, and ultimately decided that life is too short to keep her best material to herself. “yep, just naked and oiled up on the couch right now, feeling a little bit like a raw french fry before it goes into the deep fryer.”

your face scrunched in amusement at her joke, trying not to cackle loudly and attract anyone’s attention to figure out where it was coming from. you covered one side of face with your hand, shaking your head, deciding to play along.

“why didn’t you say so? i would’ve been out of here so fast that you wouldn’t have had the chance to hang up before i was knocking on your door,” you replied, trying to hold back the laughter.

“too much talking, not enough driving,” she simply said in reply, barely even waiting for you to finish your sentence.

“you know, the more you rush me, the slower i want to move,” you sassed. still, you pushed yourself away from the wall to start walking down the hallway towards the locker room. it wasn't too far of a trip, either.

“okay, fine. what do i have to do to get you to hurry up?” she asked. your heart rate quickened at her words, feeling the flirtatious tone in her words. you weren’t sure if it was intentional or if you were just hearing things, but you swear you heard it.

you hummed in thought as you threw open the door roughly, rushing over to your locker as soon as you got through the frame. “good question,” you finally said after a few seconds of silence, trying to stall for some more time for a funny answer. you couldn’t think of anything though, so you decided to flip it back onto her. “i don't know. what did you have in mind?”

“i was really banking on you having an idea,” she admitted sheepishly.

“nice. all i get are empty promises,” you pretended to sound disappointed, falling effortlessly into the banter. you pressed the phone between your ear and shoulder as you grabbed your bag and dug around for your clothes, letting it rest on the bench for support. “let me guess, you being naked and oiled up was another one?” when you didn’t get a reply from her, you nodded your head. “of course, can’t trust anyone these days.”

then, you grabbed your phone and tapped the speaker button, setting it down in your locker so you could clumsily strip out of your uniform. you’re not sure if you had ever gotten undressed so fast in your life, and the quickness caused you to fumble to get your sports bra over your head–of course, that would happen when you were trying to rush.

“i can do that for you, if you really want. you would have to be okay with extra virigin olive oil, though,” she chuckled. she furrowed her eyebrows when she heard the faint rustling from your end, but decided not to mention it.

“um,” you started. you were feeling a little distracted as you threw your uniform lazily in your locker, not bothering to fold it as you struggled to pull off your sweaty underwear and nike pros. luckily it was easier than the bra, so you were able to throw those in your locker quickly as well and yank your sweatpants up your legs and t-shirt over your head. “yeah, i think i’ll pass.”

immediately after you finished your sentence, you snatched your phone out of the locker, slammed the door, and grabbed your backpack so you could finally head out.

“finally,” she muttered when she heard the sound of the door. “i was starting to think you were planning on sleeping there tonight.”

“yeah, yeah, i’ll see you in a few,” you didn’t wait for her to reply before hitting the end call button.

you were definitely the only person left besides the janitors, so the walk to the parking lot was a little dark, but not dark enough to pull out a flash out. not that it mattered, because you practically ran even though you had just played 34 minutes of a game.

anything that could possibly slow you down on your drive happened, too. you tried to remain calm by playing sza over your car speakers, but you seemed to hit every single red light and get stuck behind every slow driver. you gripped the steering wheel until your knuckles turned white to keep yourself from screaming obscenities at the fellow drivers.

you barely waited turn your car off before you were opening the door, too, running toward the door like you had done in the arena. you didn’t really know why you were running either. earlier you had dreaded seeing paige, now all you wanted to do was be in her company. maybe talking to her had eased your mind a little bit.

when you finally got to her door, you didn’t even get the chance to knock before she swung it open, your hand hovering in the air like you were about to knock.

“were you staring through the peephole like a weirdo?” you asked with a light chuckle, dropping your hand to your side. you expected her to deny it a little too fast to not be suspicious.

“yeah, i was. so?” she shrugged. “didn’t realize it was a crime to be excited to see you.”

you rolled your eyes at her, shoving past to enter the apartment. she just shook her head with a fond smile, closing the door softly to keep it from slamming. you threw your backpack off to the side somewhere, plopping down on the couch and leaning back like you owned the place. this was good, normal even. it was a post-home game tradition at this point to order a big dinner to her apartment as a treat–to make yourselves feel better after losing.

she didn’t sit down immediately like you thought she would. instead, she stood with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised expectantly. you raised an eyebrow at her in return, confused.

“why did you take so long after the game?” she blurted.

your eyes widened slightly in shock at the abruptness. “um, i don’t know,” you answered, your voice quiet because it felt like you were in trouble. so you decided to make an attempt at a joke to try to ease the mood. “just needed to gather my bearings after that absolute shit show.”

her expression didn’t change so you knew it wasn’t the answer she was looking for. “well, you ignored me all day and then took as long as humanly possible to get here.”

you hesitated, then slowly extended your arms out to her in a silent invitation. she also hesitated, shifting her weight from one leg to another, then sagged her shoulders in defeat and walked over to your spot on the couch. she dropped down next to you, wrapping her arms around your waist as yours wrapped around her body and letting her head fall to rest on your chest.

“i’m sorry,” you said, not elaborating any further in hopes that she understood.

“i thought you were being weird because of my texts,” she confessed. “you know, the, like, flirty ones.”

“no,” you chuckled awkwardly, not knowing what else to do. “it wasn’t because of your texts.”

“then what is it?”

it wasn’t shocking that she wanted an answer, that she would push until she got it, but you wished she was okay with not knowing. this was a dangerous conversation to have with your confusing feelings, and it could tread into a territory you weren’t ready to enter yet if you weren’t careful. but you had hope that she had those same feelings and that was why she wanted an answer.

you fiddled with the hem of her hoodie, trying to work up the courage to speak. luckily, she didn’t make you feel rushed, like it was urgent, but you still felt that pressure from yourself.

you sucked in a breath, staring down at your lap. “when you went to the ground, i swear i saw my life flash before my eyes. i’ve never been that worried in my life.” to encourage you to continue, she grabbed your hand and laced your fingers together. “i didn’t mean to get so angry with everyone, to lose my cool like that, especially on live tv, but i was so scared.”

“i know,” she said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

you pinched your eyes shut in mild frustration, shaking your head. “no one else reacted like that, paige. no one else screamed at coach like you were dying or something. i think i care about you more than i’m supposed to.”

you opened your eyes slightly, but still made sure to keep your gaze trained away from her to avoid eye contact. you really hoped that she understood what you meant by that–what you were trying to confess to her without actually saying it.

there was a beat of silence. and then another.

and on the third one, you fully expected her to pull away from you, to put a little distance between your bodies. to tell you that she didn’t feel the same way, that maybe you needed some space for a little bit. once again, making things up to excuse your avoidant behavior.

finally, her tongue clicks absentmindedly. “more than you’re supposed to?” she questioned.

you couldn’t tell if she genuinely didn’t understand or just wanted you to say what you meant with your chest, but you should’ve known she wouldn’t let you skate by with a vague, cryptic answer, whether she did or not. you attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat, but it was unsuccessful.

“like,” you echoed before hesitating, trying to convince yourself that you were already knee deep in this, so you might as well just fully dive in because there was no turning back now. she already had your half-confession. but you chickened out and panicked. “i don’t want things to change between us.”

her body stiffened against you like that wasn’t what she was expecting, like you had said something she was afraid of hearing. she didn’t pull away, though, and after about a minute, she somewhat relaxed. it was a little reassuring that her hand never left yours, so you tried to cling onto to that as a motivator for working up the courage to say it.

“um, okay,” she said awkwardly quiet, a little afraid of the answer that you were avoiding by saying that. the last thing she wanted was to lose you, especially because she was assuming it was her fault–that she had done something wrong, something to make you uncomfortable.

“can i ask you something?” you whispered. though, you continued before getting confirmation. “you know last night, when we were talking about doctor who and stuff. you said that, um, you said that moment was your fixed point.” she nodded slowly. “why that one?”

she slowly pulled her body away, even her hand, shifting to sit next to you, so you leaned forward to mirror her position. not because she felt awkward or weird or wanted to exit the conversation, but because she wanted to look you in the eyes when she spoke to reassure you that she meant every word she said. and maybe so she could read your reactions to her words too–to see if what you were saying matched how you were feeling. there wasn’t much distance between your bodies, your knees brushing in front of you, but you still felt disappointed by the lack of contact.

“because,” she started, sucking in a deep breath like she was about shoot free-throws. “i felt…safe lying there with you, like nothing could hurt me. it felt like all of the expectations, and the pressure, and the negative comments–they didn’t exist. nothing else mattered as long as you were there.”

you felt like you were going to throw up from anxiety. you did your best to choke it down so you could speak. “yeah, but i was there because you were upset. i don’t understand why you would want to mark that as something that has to happen, i guess. especially because it followed all the concussion stuff.”

she smiled, looking down at her lap. “it doesn’t matter.”

“but there aren’t happier moments you’d prefer?” you asked, trying to understand her thought process.

“that was a happy moment,” she argued.

you shot her a confused look, your eyebrows furrowed, still not understanding. sure it was eventually happy, but still.

“i was so upset, and you made me feel better almost instantly. it’s like being around you feels like taking a deep breath,” she said, glancing back up to meet your eyes. “and i just–i guess i realized that i wouldn’t change anything if it meant that i could keep that moment and that feeling of safety. i wouldn’t change banging my head against sloot's or overthinking about the comments being posted about me. hell, i wouldn’t even change tearing my acl however many years ago if it meant all of that led me to you, no matter how hard it was for me.”

honestly, you didn’t even know what to say and you weren’t usually one to be left speechless. luckily, she seemed to be on a roll with her confessions tonight.

“you’re my best friend, but i don’t see you as just that. you’re like my other half. better half, maybe,” she chuckled with a casual shrug.

against your better judgement, you allowed a joke slip past your lips before you could think it through, but you couldn’t help it. the emotionally loaded tension was making you feel a little awkward and clumsy with your intentions and actions, rather than your usual certainty. and yet again, your avoidant behavior was coming to the surface again.

“if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were confessing your love for me.” it wasn’t meant to be anything but a light-hearted statement, a comment about the intensity of the moment, but you knew that it much more than that when she just stared at you with a blank expression. you threw your hands in the air defensively for a few seconds before throwing them back down into your lap. “woah, i was kidding.”

she licked her lips, suddenly feeling more confident than she did five seconds ago. “what if i am?” you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not, but she leaned forward slightly like there was a magnet pulling her closer to you. “and what if i’m not kidding?”

your eyes darted across her face, trying to fight to urge to run away from this sudden confrontation of very real emotions like you usually would. you swallowed again, but it was uncomfortably dry and the urge to throw up suddenly significantly stronger than before.

“yeah, um, cool,” you scrunched your eyes together at the painfully awkward response, feeling that one hit deep in your soul. that would definitely be the subject of your nightmares for the next few years and cause lasting damage that would carry over into your next lifetime, and maybe even the one after that.

you expected her to pull away at that, to assume it’s a rejection, but she knows you. instead, she glanced down at your lips for a brief moment, then smiled. once you noticed how close she really was–like the tips of your noses were probably only a centimeter apart–you swear you stopped breathing. not only that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look anywhere except in her eyes out of nervousness.

“cool?” she nodded, shifting her gaze down to your mouth and keeping it there.

you didn’t trust your voice to remain steady, so you just nodded in agreement.

“yeah?” she whispered this time, clearly mirroring your words and actions.

your lips parted without permission in anticipation, but you didn’t nod again, expecting her to lean forward and close the gap between you. much to your surprise, she stayed still.

“still don’t want things to change?” she asked quietly, her eyes flicking back to yours to watch your reaction.

the action caused you to close your mouth so you could wet your bottom lip with your tongue. you didn’t really intend for it to be something suggestive or flirty, or add to the moment at all, just a nervous habit but she swallowed nervously when she saw it. she hoped you didn’t notice the way she squirmed a little in her seat.

“depends,” you answered, tilting your head just barely. maybe it was just a natural shift by your body that didn’t mean anything, maybe it was a challenge. you didn’t really have an answer for what it depended on, though, you were just saying that to be annoying–to keep her tiptoeing on this line for fun, have her wondering what she has to do to win you over.

“on…” she trailed off as a signal for you to finish her sentence. you expected her to ask that, of course; you shrugged gently.

“i dunno,” you whispered noncommittally, a smug smirk making its way onto your lips.

“you don’t know, huh?” she challenged, her smile never faltering. it felt threatening, like she was about to ruin your life and she knew it.

she tilted her head, breaking this unwavering stand-off you were in to lean forward. she was stubborn and competitive, you knew that, so you didn’t expect her to give in so easily. her lips barely brushed against yours, offering nothing for you to imagine what they would feel like on yours, except a feathery light touch. it wasn’t surprising; she was trying to get you to break. unlucky for her, you were just as competitive and even more determined.

“easy, rookie,” you said, adding a breathy laugh to the end.

her mouth fell open slightly in surprise and her cheeks flushed, obviously not expecting you to call her that–especially when you were off the court.

“what?” she giggled, a little more high-pitched than her usual ones. you didn’t know if it was because she was trying to keep them quiet or if it was because she was nervous, but it was adorable. she hung her head for a moment out of embarrassment, letting her forehead touch your shoulder, but quickly picked it back up so your noses were just barely touching again.

“you heard me,” you replied stubbornly. then, you let your smirk turn into a mischievous smile, “this is fun.”

“you think so?” she cocked an eyebrow, clearly amused.

“mhm,” you hummed. you had to admit, the sound had come out much closer to a moan than you had intended, but it only made it even better. especially when you saw her swallow again.

“so,” she started, her voice soft, dragging out the o. “do you wanna tell me what more than you’re supposed to means?”

you laughed, boldly reaching forward to place your hands on her hips. your reach decreased the distance between your lips to the point that you could feel her breath against yours, but you didn’t close the gap. instead, you glanced up at her eyes to search for any signs of discomfort as you tugged her toward you. at first, she looked at you with a glint of confusion, trying to figure out what you were asking, but she quickly understood.

she climbed into your lap like you wanted her to, though, judging by the way you were tugging on her, she didn’t have much of a choice. her legs straddled the sides of each of your thighs because of your upright position. you let your back rest against the back of the couch. her cheeks were a little flushed as she sat there, her hands awkwardly hanging between you two like she didn’t know what to do with them.

“does this answer your question?” you asked, looking up at her innocently.

she nodded awkwardly, not meeting eye contact as she tucked her hair behind her ears. you could tell that she clearly wasn’t used to being the one in this position. it was the way her legs tensed because she was too afraid to put all of her weight down, and the way she was keeping her hands to herself. it was kinda cute though–the way you could take away her confidence just like that and get her all flustered.

your hands slowly moved from her hips to gently grab her hands, her gaze flying from her hands to your eyes at the change of touch. you stopped your movement for a second to gauge her reaction before placing her hands on your shoulders. then, you placed your hands back on her hips and pushed down slightly, trying to tell her that she can sit all the way down.

“it’s okay. you can sit,” you whispered, realizing she might be interpreting it as something different–something sexual. your verbal instructions helped her fully sit down and relax, though.

when you glanced down and noticed how close the waistband of her shorts was to you, you tried to ignore the thoughts of how easy it would be to stick a hand down her shorts right now–to touch her until she’s gasping and begging for more. or how if she leaned back a little bit you could use your mouth–jeez, you needed to distract yourself. you hadn’t even kissed yet and you were already thinking about this.

“about that confession we discussed earlier…” you said to try to shake your attention away from those thoughts, trailing off.

“what about it?” she mumbled, still not meeting your eyes.

“you want to tell me about it?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

she tore her gaze away from her lap to look off to the side at nothing in particular, chewing her lip nervously, then looked back–finally making eye contact. you couldn’t read her expression as she stared at you. then, she sucked in a breath and raised her eyebrows.

“do i?” she challenged.

a lazy smile rose to your lips at her attempt to gain back control. one of your hands moved from where it rested on her hip to wrap around her throat, not tight like you were squeezing, but enough that you could pull her face closer to yours. your eyes fluttering shut as you brushed your nose against hers teasingly, having no intention to press your lips together–just like what she was doing earlier.

“i think you do,” you whispered, brushing your bottom lip against hers intentionally, “and i want you to.”

you could feel the way her pulse raced under your fingertips, beating at a speed that didn’t seem possible, and you tried not to laugh about how nervous you were making her. you couldn’t say too much though, because yours was probably beating at a similar speed too. why wouldn’t it be with this beautiful girl in your lap?

paige let out a shaky breath to try to pull herself together, the hot air fanning over your mouth. her mouth opened like she was about to speak, but she couldn’t think straight like this. with your mouth in such close proximity while you keep denying her of the kiss she so desperately wants. she knew she could lean forward and close the gap herself, but there was an unspoken game of chicken going on now–she was determined to win.

“you don’t have to tell me, baby,” you said gently, tracing your thumb up and down the side of her throat. “but then you’re not going to get what you want.”

“you already know what i’m going to say,” she mumbled, attitude soaking into her tone.

you smoothed your hand over her thigh absentmindedly, above her shorts as much as possible of course, from her knee all the way up to where her thigh met her hips, your thumb running over her bikini line. she just hoped you couldn’t tell how worked up the motion of your thumb was making her feel–that you couldn’t feel her pulsing through her shorts.

“i don’t think i do,” you replied innocently, shaking your head.

she groaned in a mixture of annoyance and impatience, and would definitely dramatically throw her head back to go along with it if you weren’t holding her neck in place. not that she was complaining about that, of course. she stuck her lip out slightly in a pout, staring at you with pleading puppy dog eyes–like that was going to help her case.

“you were so bold before i pulled you into my lap. what happened?” you teased, using your thumb to trace circles into her bikini line. honestly, you were just touching her because you wanted to in the most innocent sense, you didn’t even realize that you were that close until you glanced down.

when you looked back up, paige was still looking at you with those eyes. suddenly, you had an idea, something that could hopefully speed this process along by making her so desperate that she caves.

this was definitely not how you thought this night was going to go.

without breaking eye contact, you slowly slid your thumb to the side. not all the way over, just enough that if she didn’t want to keep going, she could easily slap you away. she didn’t, though, so you did it again, but this time you moved far enough that it was on top of her clit through her shorts–and she was already pulsing. you figured she would try to act like it didn’t effect her, but when she broke eye contact to look down at your thumb as a quiet gasp left her throat and her hips jolted forward, it was hard to deny.

“i want to touch you so bad, baby, i do. i want to make you feel so good,” you said, your tone a little more whiny than you intended, “and i will–” you paused, moving your thumb in achingly slow circles. she sighed at the touch, obviously thinking she got away with it. you leaned forward a little like you were going to kiss her, but moved to whisper in her ear instead, “if you tell me what you were going to say.”

you stopped abruptly, moving your hand away altogether to rest on her back instead. she whimpered at the loss, shifting her hips a little, but it wasn't enough contact for her to be chasing the feeling anyway–just enough to be disappointed that you stopped.

“i wasn’t going to say anything you don’t already know,” she said, trying her best to keep her tone under control but some attitude definitely still slipped in.

“then why are you being so stubborn?” you asked, squeezing her throat for a second but loosening your grip almost immediately.

she clenched her jaw, the frustration visibly bubbling up inside her. she didn’t know why she didn’t want to say it. and her confidence from earlier had subsided, so it felt even more difficult. maybe it was because if she admitted, spoke it aloud, everything would change. you wouldn’t be able to proudly wear the title of friends anymore–you’d be more. it wasn’t that she didn’t trust that you wouldn’t do her dirty, it was the potential risks of what she was losing, no matter the outcome. the reality check for why people say not to get involved with your teammates was a tough one to get smacked in the face with.

“i–” she started, but cut herself off before anything meaningful could come out of her mouth, looking anywhere but at you.

you decided to let your hand drop from her throat, instead resting that one on her back as well, tracing comforting circles with your fingers in an attempt to be encouraging.

“it’s okay,” you said softly, trying be reassuring while still standing your ground. “i won’t hurt you, okay? you know that. and you know i feel the same way. i just want you to say it.”

“i know,” she whispered, picking at the skin around her fingernails. immediately after she started, you grabbed her hands and laced your fingers so she couldn’t, so she couldn’t tear them apart and make herself bleed from the anxiety. “i just–i don’t know.”

you waited a few moments before responding, taking a deep breath to calm your own nerves. “paige, you know the feelings i have for you are more than just friendly,” you paused to use your intertwined hands to tilt her chin up to force her look at you. “and i think you know that i’m falling in love with you. and i know you feel the same, right?”

she bit her lip, glancing down before bringing her eyes back up. “you do want to kiss me?” she asked, her voice was both serious and unserious when she asked, like she knew but was making sure.

you blew a laugh out of your nose, smiling fondly at her. “yes. goddammit, i really do,” you untangled your hands to rest them on her legs, so high on her thighs you had to slide them under her shorts. “i just want you to say it first.”

you swiped your tongue across your bottom lip. there were other things you wanted to say, too, like how you would finger her until she came, eat her out until she cried–whatever she wanted–if she just said it, but it felt like too much for the vulnerable moment. you didn’t want her to feel like you were using her while she’s trying to be open about her feelings.

“okay,” she said, like she was just now mustering up the courage after dancing in circles around it for this entire time. she blew out a breath, “i love you.”

“i know that,” you replied, nodding your head for her to go on. that wasn’t what you wanted to hear, and she knew that. that was something that you two had said to each other as friends, so it didn’t really hold the same weight. sure, it had a whole different meaning now, but you had heard her say it a thousand times before.

she sagged her shoulders in disappointment for that not being enough. yet still nodded, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her lips–her visibly shaking fingers.

“damn, you’re acting like you’re taking free throws in a close game right now,” you said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood a little.

“shut up,” she said, shaking her head with a smile, lightly smacking your chest with the back of her hand. she breathed out again, making eye contact with you. “i think i’m falling in love with you,” she said with confidence, pausing like she was contemplating if she had enough courage to add to it, “and i have had feelings for you since the day we met. i never wanted to be your friend.”

you were taken aback by the newfound information, your face contorted into a surprised expression while you jerked your head back slightly. “what?”

she covered her mouth with her hands and widened her eyes, but you didn’t know if she was shocked that she actually had the courage to say it or if she was shocked that she said it–if she didn’t want you to know that part. but it looked like she was smiling under her hands, judging by the way her under-eyes were a little scrunched, so you would have to assume that she was shocked by her sudden courage to just start admitting things.

her hands fell from her face, revealing she really was smiling under them like you predicted. “i’ve been plotting on you since day one.”

you shook your head in disbelief, closing your eyes for a moment and opening them to check if you were dreaming. you squeezed her legs a little too, then used your thumbs to rub circles into her bikini line–similar to earlier, but you hoped she was feeling it a little more than just some tracing. “you’re lying,” you said definitively.

“nah,” she giggled, her hands coming up to rest on your chest, her fingers rubbing your collarbone delicately. “i remember when i walked into my first ever practice. you were, like, standing under the basket talking to someone and i literally could not stop looking at you because you were so pretty.”

you grinned at her, not her words, but at her excitement. she looked like a kid in the candy store while smiling and giggling like that. you couldn’t help but reach up to pinch her cheek lightly, which you honestly did often, so she wasn’t phased

“and then,” she started again, “later in that practice, we were doing defensive drills or whatever. i went to go shoot this layup and you blocked the shit out of me. you fell on top of me and all i can remember thinking is damn, it’s a great day to be a dallas wing.”

you squeezed her hips, not super tight but not gently either, enough to grab her attention. she shifted her gaze back to yours, her smile staying put.

“you wanna know what i thought of you?” you asked softly, maybe even a little suggestively.

she nodded her head in reply, so you slid one of your hands back around her throat. you squeezed a little, but only for a few seconds and not very hard, causing her to let out a shaky breath. you pulled her towards you gently. “when i first met you, i thought…” you whispered, trailing off. you brushed your noses together like you had done earlier, her pulse, yet again, pounding beneath your fingertips. “…that you were…” you glanced at her eyes to see where she was looking, only to see that she had closed them in anticipation. you brushed your top lip against her bottom lip, feeling accomplished when you heard her suck in a breath. “…really fucking annoying.”

before she even had time to react to what you said, you captured her lips in a kiss. she kissed you back effortlessly, matching your slow and soft rhythm, hands subconsciously fisting your shirt. it was so easy for your first kiss together, like you had been waiting a lifetime to do this. her lips were warm and soft against yours. maybe even a little familiar–like coming home after being away for so long. you slid your hand down, away from throat down to rest it on her hip.

paige pulled back sharply, her hands on your chest pushing you away. “annoying?” she asked like she couldn’t believe you said it. “that’s what you thought of me?”

you laughed, keeping your eyes trained on her lips, desperate to lean in and kiss her again. and you tried, you really did, but she kept her hands and arms stiff so you couldn’t move. “well no, it wasn’t just that day. i definitely do still think that,” you teased.

she stuck her bottom lip out in a pout, crossing her arms over her chest. maybe any other time you would’ve had a little more self-control and acknowledged that she was trying to make you feel bad for her, not horny, but your mind was already swirling with arousal from having a pretty girl sitting in your lap–your pretty girl. you couldn’t help but let your gaze shamelessly wander over her exposed arms, her muscles popping so deliciously that you could probably go feral over it. if you weren’t throbbing before, you definitely were now goddamn. and if she was talking, you couldn’t hear her.

your hands subconsciously tightened on her hips as you bit your bottom lip. maybe you should take pictures of them, just like this, to put in a frame. maybe even print out a poster to hang on your ceiling so you can fall asleep happy every night.

“jesus,” you muttered when she moved her arm a little because it showed a little bit of the definition. it almost under your breath but not quite, not even realizing you said it out loud.

“you’re not even listening,” she stated. honestly, it felt like a movie scene–her voice fading in after a dream sequence. and it was, those arms were definitely what dreams are made of. you would probably let her put you to rest in a chokehold because at least you’d go out with the one thing you loved the most.

“hm?” you hummed, flicking your gaze back to her eyes after much, much difficulty. “you were talking?” you asked jokingly, trying to keep a serious face.

she didn’t say anything, just rolled her eyes, clearly irritated. she shifted her body a little bit, like she was going to get off of you, but you used the grip you had on her hips to pull her back down and still her. her lips thinned into a tight-lipped smile from annoyance, but it didn’t linger on her face for very long.

you held eye contact with her as you shifted one of your thighs inwards under her body, until it was pressing against her through her shorts. her breathing stuttered subtly, so slight that you could’ve been imagining it. after waiting for a few seconds to see if she was okay with this, you used your hands to guide her hips, rolling her forward to grind against your thigh. she broke eye contact to look down at your leg between hers, her lips parting.

you kept your eyes trained on her face though, watching her reaction to the feeling. your own lips were parted too, and you were surprised there wasn’t drool coming out of your mouth at the sight of her. you rolled her hips again, extra slow so you could feel the way she was pulsing against the muscle. her hands flew to grip your shoulders as a result, fingertips digging into your skin.

after that, she didn’t need any extra guidance. you let your hands fall onto the couch on either side of you, watching as she rolled her hips at a teasing pace against the muscle of your thigh, whimpering as she did so. it wasn’t quite fast enough to chase an orgasm, but it wasn’t slow enough to be considered teasing either.

you already knew you were soaking through your underwear from this–watching her get herself off like this. you had the urge to kiss her, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away. and there were so many things you could say, too, but you were just too mesmerized to form a word.

one of her hands loosened the grip on your shoulder to rest on the side of your neck, her thumb touching the side of your jaw. after a few seconds, she tore her eyes away from watching herself, shifting her gaze to your eyes. you noticed her pupils were blown with pleasure, making you clench your thighs a little involuntarily to try to find some friction.

her eyes flickered down for a split second, making it obvious she noticed. you didn’t expect her to do anything about it because she was busy working on herself, and you were more than happy to just watch. yet she smiled, sliding her hand from your neck down your body. without hesitation, she used her thumb to rub circles over your clothed clit.

“fuck, paige,” you said, your voice strangled in surprise. the barrier between her thumb and your clit provided the right amount of teasing that was making your brain short circuit.

then as soon as it began, she suddenly stopped, stilling her thumb and slowly lifting herself off your leg. you watched with a curious expression, trying to figure out what she was doing without directly asking her. but she stood there awkwardly like she didn’t know what to do, her thumbs hooked in the waistband of her shorts at her hips, her eyes trained on you.

it didn’t take you too long to catch on.

“do you, um,” you paused to swallow nervously, “do you want to take those off?”

she nodded slowly in reply. you scooted to the edge of the couch, holding your hands out for her, and spread your knees as an invitation for her to stand between them, which she did immediately. you looked up at her through your lashes as you leaned forward to press a kiss against the waistband, snaking your hands up the back of her thighs under her shorts to cup her ass.

she placed a hand on your head, weaving her fingers through the strands–meant to be comforting more than anything else.

you ran your hands back down, stopping halfway to use her legs as leverage. once again, you leaned forward. only this time, you mouthed over her clothed clit a few times, holding eye contact with her while you did. she blew out a shallow, shaky breath of both pleasure and nervousness. then, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of her shorts, pulling them down her legs achingly slow. when they were halfway down her thighs, you leaned forward to flick your tongue against her clit, feeling too impatient to wait any longer.

her body jolted at the contact, eyes closing and mouth dropping open, not expecting it so soon. you pulled away slightly to watch her reaction, breath hot against her as you watched to make sure she was okay–that she didn’t want to stop. after a few seconds, she opened her eyes to stare down at you because what the fuck was taking so long?

she whimpered, using her hand to lightly push your head back to where she wanted it. you smiled at the feeling, loving how desperate she was for you, how impatient she was for your touch after getting just a tiny little taste.

“keep going,” she borderline cried after about a minute of not touching her.

“please?” you said as a reminder, smiling innocently.

“please, keep going,” she corrected herself. she couldn’t even bring herself to be stubborn or fight about it at that point, she just wanted you to touch her already.

you nodded like you understood, leaning closer to her like you were about to give her what she wanted, then jumped to your feet. her eyes flew open, wildly searching the room for a reason why you weren’t literally on your knees eating her pussy right now. you couldn’t help but smirk at her reaction. she grabbed your wrist, tugging on it like she was going to throw a tantrum.

who knows, maybe she would if she didn’t get what she wanted.

but you weren’t really in the mood to wait either, so you would let it slide this time. you used the arm she was hanging onto to pull her toward the couch, pushing her down on it as you sank to your knees on the floor. she watched you nervously, her breathing almost as rapid as her heart rate. and she didn’t know what to do with hands, so they were next to her in the couch like yours were just a few minutes ago.

you cupped the back of her knees with your hands, yanking her towards you so if you dropped her, she would only be halfway on the couch. and threw her legs over your shoulders so she didn’t fall, catching a glimpse of how wet she was.

there was barely any hesitation before you licked a flat stripe up her center and took her clit in your mouth to alternate between sucking gently and swirling your tongue around it.

“oh my god,” she moaned. she tangled both of her hands in your hair, already grinding against your face and tongue.

“i’ve barely touched you,” you commented, using the opportunity to come up for air.

“don’t care. i don’t care,” she said. “i just want you to fuck me. don’t care about anything else.”

“nothing?” you spoke against her so she could feel your lips move, a little amused by the way she was acting.

“no,” she shook her head quickly, her back arching off the bed involuntarily.

you kept your eyes trained on her, watching the way every circle, every flick would effect her. the way they would make her face contort and force moans from the back of her throat. how she was struggling to keep it together. the way her stomach would flex and hips would buck.

you touched your finger to her entrance, swirling it through her folds, the teasing making her whine. “so needy for me, paige. i’ve wanted to see this for so long. to watch you fall apart in front of me,” you said, your voice low with desire.

the desire wasn’t even because you wanted to come though, you just wanted to please her.

without warning, you pushed your finger inside her, curling like you had done it a million times before, like this wasn’t the first time you were getting to explore her body. you added a second finger, watching her gasp and throw her head back at the intrusion, but grind her hips up to try to meet your rhythm still–like she didn't even realize she was doing it.

“fuck, fuck,” she moaned, her voice going up an octave. “i’m a fucking mess for you. shit, let you ruin me whenever you want.”

you sped up your pace at her words, wanting to see how whiny and need she could really get if you got her close to the edge–the things she would say. you definitely would have to try other things with her just to see.

“mhm,” you hummed against her. “you have no idea what you do to me. i’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

and then her hips started uncontrollably bucking, stomach flexing against her will, but she was still trying so hard to hold off her orgasm despite that.

“paige, it’s okay,” you tried to reassure, unsure why she was doing that. you hadn’t told her she had to ask permission or anything. “you can come, it’s okay.”

“no, no, it’s too good. don’t want to yet,” she whined, her legs clenching together hard around your head. “want you to keep fucking me.”

the words shocked you a little bit. you weren’t sure if you had ever heard say something anything like that. that they didn’t want to come? that sounded crazy, you couldn’t even get on board with that yourself.

but of course, you did what she said. who were you to deny a pretty lady of the pleasures in life?

even though she didn’t ask you to, you turned your head to nip at the skin of her thighs, just to lessen the stimulation and give her a little more time like she wanted. you kept pumping your fingers though, pumping them as deep as you could and then curling them until you hit the spot that had her crying out in a borderline scream.

“no, don’t stop, please,” she said almost immediately.

you did as you were told, moving your mouth back to her clit. you were still hesitant, though. this was uncharted territory for you and you didn’t really know what to do here. you maintained a slow pace, trying to do what she said while honoring her other wishes of wanting to last longer.

as you expected, it only took a few more pumps of your fingers before her eyes were rolling to the back of her head and back arching off the couch in an orgasm. you worked her through it, slowing your pace a little bit. you could only assume it was a hard-hitting one, because the only sound you heard was a chant of thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

you kept pumping your fingers achingly slowly as she came down, making her body twitch underneath you, but you weren’t even sure if she noticed.

when she was finally mostly still, her chest heaving, you pulled them out just as slow. she opened her eyes slowly, immediately smiling when she focused on you.

you smiled back, using the hand the wasn’t just inside her to pinch her cheek. "how did i get so lucky?"

#paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fic #wcbb x reader #wlw smut #sub!paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fluff

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dontrllycaretbh · 3 days ago

Text

Title: The cost of quiet (pt.1?)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x fem!reader

Warnings: soft heartbreak, unspoken tension, closeted relationship, post-championship emotional gut-punch

Summary: The UConn Huskies just won Nationals. Everything should be perfect. But when Paige leans in to kiss you — in front of the cameras, in front of the fans — you pull away. You didn’t mean to hurt her. You just weren’t ready. The problem is… she’s been ready for years.

It should’ve been the happiest moment of your life.

You were standing on the biggest stage in college basketball, drenched in confetti, adrenaline still buzzing under your skin. The scoreboard glared your victory. The arena shook with cheers. Coach Genno’s voice rang in your ears — proud, loud, grounding.

And then you felt her.

Paige.

Her arms wrapped around you like gravity. You didn’t even hesitate — you hugged her back, like instinct. Like you always did. Like home.

But then she pulled away, just slightly, just enough — and leaned in.

Her lips were right there, so close. The look in her eyes wasn’t one of celebration. It was raw. Real. Tired of hiding.

And before she could close that last inch, you stepped back.

Not far. But far enough.

You saw the flicker in her expression — from joy to confusion to shame — all in a heartbeat. You hadn’t said a word, but you didn’t need to. The message was clear. Not here. Not like this. Not in front of the cameras.

And then, as if to cover it, you turned toward Coach Geno and gave him a high five, smiling too wide, too forced. You pretended not to feel Paige staring at your back. Pretended not to hear the hollow silence between her footsteps as she walked away.

You didn’t even look.

But you wanted to.

God, you wanted to.

⸻

From the corner of the court, Paige stood frozen as KK jumped onto her back, laughing, shouting about how they just won freaking nationals! Paige tried to laugh, too — tried to fake it. But her throat burned.

She kept glancing back at you, standing next to Coach like nothing happened.

Like she hadn’t just tried to kiss the person she’s been in love with for almost five years.

⸻

Later, in the locker room, the noise faded but the tension stayed.

Paige didn’t talk to you.

Not during the celebration speeches. Not when everyone started filming TikToks. Not even when you slipped away from the cameras to stand against the far wall, quiet as ever. That used to be your place — silent but near her.

Now, it just felt far.

When the live stream happened a year ago — when KK accidentally caught you and Paige lying tangled up on the couch during a late-night team movie — things had never been the same. You’d pulled away even harder. Publicly, at least.

Privately? You still curled into her arms. You still whispered I love you into her neck. You still kissed her like the secret was a promise.

But for Paige, the secret stopped feeling romantic a long time ago.

It started feeling like a cage.

⸻

By the time most of the team was out celebrating, you found her alone in the hallway near the buses. Hoodie pulled over her curls. Bag at her feet. Eyes red.

“Paige,” you said softly, breath catching.

She didn’t look at you. Just asked: “Do you know how hard it was not to cry on camera?”

You winced. Took a step forward. “I panicked. I wasn’t thinking—”

“No,” she said, cutting you off. “You were thinking. You always think. You think so hard you forget to feel.”

That landed. Because it was true.

“I just…” you tried. “I wasn’t ready.”

“You’ve been saying that for four years.”

Silence.

She looked at you now, really looked. Her voice shook — not angry, just tired. “Do you know how much it hurts? To love someone this much and feel like they’re ashamed of it?”

Your chest tightened.

“I’m not ashamed of you,” you said, quickly. “I’m just scared. Of all of it. What people would say. What it might mean for us. For you.”

“And I’m scared of pretending I don’t know what your mouth tastes like every time someone asks if we’re just teammates,” she snapped, eyes wet again. “But I still show up. Every day. I chose you, and I’m standing here. Alone.”

You stepped closer.

“I do love you, Paige.”

She shook her head. “I know. But it’s not enough anymore if you’re only going to love me in the dark.”

She bent down, picked up her bag, and brushed past you.

You stood there, heart pounding, hands shaking, scared of what i could lose forever.

#paige bueckers #uconn wbb #azzi fudd #pazzi #kk arnold #paige bueckers uconn #uconn huskies #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers x oc #closeted #wlw post #wlw yearning #wlw community #wlw love

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notarmedandnotdangerous · 24 hours ago

Note

thunderbolts* bucky having a meeting time with his other teammates but reader sends him a lot of freaky pictures of himself for bucky

i love when you fuck punched-out moans out of someone. god its so hot so i put that in this fic. yeah its nasty. i wanted to post this yesterday but i totalled my phone 💔 still i hope u guys enjoyy

+18 mdni! bucky's been a brat so you decide to test him, sorta.

cw: dom!m!thunderbolt*!reader, sub!bratty!thunderbolt*!bucky, porn with a little plot (?), reader sends explicit photos, bucky has a degradation, and praise kink, masturbation, overstimulation, use of toys (fleshlight), thunderbolts* are involved, use of 'slut', and 'sergeant', dumbification, fingering

word count: >7.2k

!! @swiftie-fault

briefing with the team was.. tough today.

valentina was talking, while everyone watched some drone footage, the strategy map lighting up in blue.

but bucky couldn’t focus. not even a little.

he’s got a raging hard-on in his tactical pants, sweat beading behind his ears, and your name caught like a prayer under his tongue.

you’ve been tormenting him from across the table all afternoon.

he made the mistake of checking your first text when he sat down, and now he’s fucking spiraling.

—

all this had started way before the meeting though.

it was all because of bucky’s mouth. smart, sharp, and a little too smug for his own good.

he had been acting out all week, tossing off snarky comments whenever you spoke to him, ignoring direct instructions from you, and giving you that cocky little shrug after, then looking you up, and down like you were the one on thin ice.

and you let it build, let him test you. it wasn’t because you were soft, fuck no. it was because you wanted him to, because of how bad he wanted to see what you’d do about it.

you knew exactly what that bratty little performance was hiding, a need to be handled, controlled, and put back into his place.

so the night before the ops briefing, you pulled him aside in the hallway. there weren’t any witnesses, since everyone had left to their own respective rooms. just you, and him.

bucky was still warm from sparring with john earlier, sweat drying at his collarbone, shoulder-length hair falling loose against his neck. he leaned against the wall, as if he didn’t feel your gaze tracing every fucking inch of him.

“you got something to say to me?” he asked, casual, mocking even.

you stepped in close, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make him shift his weight.

“tomorrow, you’re going to sit in that meeting like a good little soldier.”

“and what if i don’t?”

“then i’ll make sure the entire room watches you fall apart.” you leaned in, right to the shell of his ear. “you so much as roll your eyes, barnes, and i’ll put you in your fucking place.”

bucky laughed. he had the audacity to fucking laugh.

“you going to pull rank on me?” he tilted his head. “thought you liked it when i act out.”

oh he wanted it.

you gave him a smile.

“then you’ll love what i’ve got planned for you.

he thought you were bluffing.

now he’s got a rock-hard cock in his pants, your voice echoing in his head, and sweat slipping down the back of his neck while he tried not to shift too noticeably in his seat.

bucky barely made it through the first slide of drone footage before your name was already pinched behind his teeth like a moan he didn’t dare let slip.

you waited until he looked settled, until his legs were spread wide, fingers tapping lightly on the table like he had the upper hand. you’re across the table. calm, composed, typing quietly on your laptop. no one would ever guess that a few feet away from these armed assassins, you’ve been sending him absolutely depraved photos, and videos of yourself.

he sat like he’s focused. he isn’t though.

then you sent the first of many videos.

‘[attachment]’

bucky’s phone buzzed on his thigh. the thumbnail of the video was pitch black. there wasn’t any context, so he clicked in without thinking. he expected silence, or maybe a photo.

it was a video of you jerking yourself off. low, wet, obscene slapping sounds played, barely noticeable. your hand wrapped tight around your cock, as your thumb circled around the tip. but the second your voice spills from the speakers of his phone, he jumps. the sound punched through the meeting like a gunshot.

the entire room turned, and bucky fumbled his phone like it had burned him, practically slamming it face-down on the table. a flush creeped up his neck immediately, but he cleared his throat, trying to recover with a forced, breathy laugh.

“fuck- sorry, someone sent me the wrong file.”

“you good, bucky?” yelena asked.

he coughed, nodded too fast.

“yeah, all good. won’t happen again.” he didn’t dare to look up at you. he swears he can feel your voice in his spine.

you didn’t let up.

buzz. another message.

‘put your hands in your lap if you want me to stop.’

he didn’t. of course he didn’t.

so you sent more.

the next one was a photo.

‘[attachment]: you’d look so good crying on this in front of everyone.’

it was a photo of your cock jutting up from your slacks, tip flushed, a single bead of pre-cum sliding down as your fingers held the base.

bucky only let the preview load for half a second, that was all he needed. he shifted in his seat like he couldn’t get comfortable. he thinks that if he shifted, the fabric wouldn’t dig so deep into the tip of his cock, but it only makes things worse.

“barnes, input?” valentina asks.

“uh. yeah. go for it.” he sighed.

“are you okay? look like you’ve seen a ghost.” this time, john asked.

“yeah. fine.”

you were far from done.

‘[attachment]’

this one was shorter. your fingers stroked your cock slowly, almost lazily, the camera angled as if he was on his knees watching you. his volume was turned all the way off, and you mouthed something at the camera.

bucky knew exactly what it was. he’s heard you say it while pressing his face into the sheets.

‘you know who you belong to.’

the loop was short, maybe about five seconds long, but he watches it again, and again. his breath stutters on the fourth loop.

the rest of the team was engaged in valentina’s presentation about satellite sweeps.

but not him. he’s gone quiet, too quiet.

bucky’s phone was tilted just enough to face away from everyone else, but you see him watching something with laser focus, thumb tapping just once every few seconds.

he’s looping it, looping the video you sent, looping your hand slowly working on your cock. he knows the video’s on mute, he knows no one else can hear, and he swears he can hear you moan in his ear.

you don’t say a word, just smiled, and paid attention to valentina’s presentation.

across the table, alexei tilts his head.

“barnes, you good?”

bucky jolts, and he fumbles to lock his phone, flipping it over so fast it almost falls out of his hands.

“..i’m fine.” his voice cracks. “just- uh, cramps.”

“from what? sitting?” ava jokes.

he was already pulling his shoulders back like he’s ready to fight someone.

“no- just.. don’t worry about it.”

you raised your hand, smooth as ever.

“he’s been off since this morning, might be overworked. you want someone to check you out, sergeant?”

bucky shot you a glare so sharp it could slit someone’s throat.

you just tilted your head, lips curling.

‘you know who you belong to.’

your voice echoed in his head, and he looks down again. beneath the table, his thighs twitched with the effort to not grind against the seat.

buzz. bucky’s phone vibrated again. he braced himself as he opened your chat.

‘debriefing in 20 then we leave.’

he sighed in relief when he read the message. but his breath caught when he saw the other ones.

‘if i see you walk out of this room hard, i’ll fuck you so deep you forget how to speak.’

‘your choice.’

he reads it, and his hand gripped the edge of the table so hard the metal creaks.

—

the common room emptied out one body at a time.

ava vanished before valentina was even done talking, phasing through the wall rather than using the door.

valentina dropped a cryptic remark on her way out, making everyone feel like they missed something.

yelena rolled her eyes, throwing a jab, before strutting out.

bob shuffled out with a nervous smile, following behind yelena.

bucky stayed.

you knew he would.

you were still at the table, sipping from your bottle as you logged your final notes from the debrief. you could practically feel him from across the room.

john left with no unnecessary words, just a stiff nod.

alexei offered a wink to the both of you, he probably knew what the both of you were up to.

when the last door clicked shut, bucky struck.

your back was barely turned when his voice cracked like a whip through the silence.

“what the actual fuck is wrong with you?” he snapped.

you didn’t flinch, just looked up at him.

“good evening to you too, handsome.”

“no. don’t ‘handsome’ me.” bucky was on you within seconds. not physically, but close enough to feel the heat rolling off his chest. his jaw was tight, hands on his hips like he needed something to hold on to so that he wouldn’t spiral. “you think that shit you pulled today was funny? sending me all that shit during a briefing? playing your little ‘games’ in front of the whole team?”

you set your tablet down slowly.

“all that shit?” you repeated. “that’s not what you were thinking when you played it on loop.”

that got him. his mouth twitched like he was biting back a growl.

“you humiliated me. made me look like some fucking rookie who can’t sit still without leaking in his pants. you- fuck, you planned that shit.”

you leaned back against the table, crossing your arms as you watched him spiral.

“keep going.”

“what?” bucky blinked.

“you finished?”

“no, i’m not fucking finished!” he threw his hands up. “ you pull me aside like you’re going to talk strategy, and instead you whisper all that shit in my ear, and i knew what you were doing. i fucking knew it, and i still.. fuck.” he looked down at his boots, then back at you, then away again. “i can’t think when you do that. i can’t focus.” he gestured wildly at you. “and you’re there sitting, acting all cool, like you didn’t just me fucking porn in a meeting!”

you stayed exactly where you were, unmoving. you let him ramble, let him try to claw his way out of the hole he had dug for himself.

“you made me sit through hour-long meetings with a fucking hard on!” he hissed. “i almost fucking whined in front of them!”

“and? that’s all your fault. did you think about me while you sat there all tense? think about me fucking you in front of everyone?”

“i thought about wringing your fucking neck.” his jaw flexes.

“you thought about me bending you over the table.”

“i thought about shutting that mouth of yours.”

“you thought about filling mine, yeah? with your cock?”

bucky twitches.

“you treat me like i’m some toy you can wind up, and leave twitching. like i don’t matter outside of what i do for you.” he took a breath. “i’m not your pet, not some fucking plaything, not weak. you don’t own me.”

you’re still leaning against the door.

and then, silence.

your eyes didn’t soften. you took a step closer, and when you spoke, your voice was lower, warmer. that sweet, condescending tone he absolutely hated because it made him ache.

“are you finished now?” you stepped closer, until you were chest-to-chest with him.

bucky’s mouth parts, but no sound came out.

“because if you’re not, you’re more than welcome to keep throwing your little tantrum. i’ve got all night, sergeant.”

he’s staring at you now, he realised too late what he had just admitted. he had just cursed you out, screamed in your face, and you hadn’t flinched, hadn’t snapped back, hadn’t raised your voice. this wasn’t just a spat, wasn’t about him pushing your buttons, and getting away with it.

now it was your turn. you had let him scream, pace, bare his teeth, and throw every single insult he could think of at you.

but when you speak? he shuts the fuck up.

because no matter how angry bucky barnes might be, he's never ready for when you’re angry.

“no? then keep going, barnes. tell me more about how you don’t care, about how i don’t matter to you.” you sat back down on the chair, crossing your legs. “say it again, like you said it with my fingers wrapped around your throat last week.”

bucky’s breath stutters.

‘i’m fucked.’

“say it like you weren’t rutting into my thigh two days ago, begging me to touch you. say it like you don’t whimper whenever i tell you no.”

his jaw tightens, he’s not talking anymore.

“you’re not mad because i humiliated you, you’re mad because you fucking loved it.”

he gulped.

“on your knees.”

bucky drops. no hesitation this time, but only for a while because he’s stubborn. even when he’s kneeling, he’s still trying to win. he clenches his jaw, and lifts his eyes, like he’s daring you to keep going.

you leaned over, grabbed his chin hard, and forced his eyes up to yours.

“you want to act like a brat? i’ll treat you like one.” your voice was sharp. “you don’t get to yell at me, and then want me in the same breath. you don’t get to scream at me, then get hard when i talk to you like this. you want me? then fucking crawl.”

he swallowed hard, hands at his sides now, fists clenched.

“you say you’re not my toy, not my pet, so why do you act like one?” you leaned in. “you sure do bark, snarl, and fight like one.” you let go of his jaw. “so here’s what’s going to happen, sergeant barnes.” you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “you’re going to kneel, apologise, and then you’re going to thank me.”

he blinked.

“or you can keep pretending you still have control in this situation.” you continued.

“you got what you wanted. you want me on my knees? fine. i’m kneeling, happy now?”

your expression doesn’t change, your gaze doesn’t soften, but your voice dropped.

“stand up.”

bucky falters.

“..what?”

“i said, stand the fuck up, barnes.” you don’t raise your voice, you don’t have to anyway.

he rises slowly, like he’s testing the waters. he still thinks this is a game he can win, like he hadn’t already lost.

you step in close, eyes locked with his. cold, flat, and unimpressed.

“you think kneeling with that scowl makes you a man? you think being bratty earns you control?”

he didn’t reply.

“you’re not kneeling for me, you’re kneeling for your fucking ego.” you huffed. “you want control so badly? take it, go ahead. say something real, do something brave.”

nothing. just that tense jaw.

“no? of course not. because you’re not here to fix anything. you’re here because i didn’t fall apart when you raised your voice at me.” you scoff. “you’re here because i didn’t let you win.”

his mouth opens again, and you talk right over him.

“you’re not dominant. you’re not clever. you’re not even interesting when you act like this. you’re just loud.”

bucky’s jaw ticks, and his gaze softens slightly, out of sheer intimidation. he prayed you wouldn’t notice it, but you did, like you always do.

“loud, needy, and fucking desperate.”

he flinches, just a fraction, but you notice it. usually you would feel bad, but today just wasn’t the day.

“you’re not dangerous, buck. you’re embarrassing.”

bucky tried to speak, tried to pull something together, some insult, some plea, but you’ve already turned your back.

“we’re done here. you’re not worth my time right now.”

“wait-”

“you wanted to be treated like a man, so act like one. until then? go ahead, and get yourself off thinking about what i could’ve done to you.” then you walk away, there was no glance back, no pity.

bucky didn’t know whether to chase after you, or crawl to you, and beg.

instead he stand there, frozen, and short-circuiting.

his pulse was jackhammering, his face flushed with shame, and frustration. but lower? his cock was fucking aching, throbbing so hard it hurt.

‘stand the fuck up.’

he’s so hard he could cum from the memory alone, from the utter indifference in your tone, from the fact that you didn’t even need to yell at him.

you didn’t even touch him, and he’s leaking into his briefs, like a desperate bitch who got put in his place, and fucking liked it.

bucky let out a shuddering breath, and leaned back against the wall like his knees weren’t working anymore. he’s panting now, swallowing hard, head tipping back like he can escape the way your voice fucking echos in his ears.

‘you’re not dangerous, buck. you’re embarassing.’

he groans, one hand slipping down to adjust himself. there wasn’t any relief, just torture. his cock jerked like it heard your voice too.

and the worst part was that he knew he deserved it.

and now? he’s going to have to sit with that. hard, alone, and desperate.

—

bucky stumbled into his room. it was dark, except for the faint glow of the city lights sneaking through his blinds. he slams the door shut behind him, locking it.

your voice still echoed in his head.

‘go ahead, get yourself off thinking about what i could’ve done to you.’

like you knew he would, like you wanted him to, like you dared him to.

his hands were already at his belt, tugging it open with a frustrated groan. he didn’t even bother taking his shirt off anymore. he’s been hard since the afternoon, since the meeting, since the first time you looked at him with that glare.

his cock sprung free the second his pants fell, flushed red, and already leaking.

bucky grabs the toy you’d made him buy, something you mocked him for needing in the first place. it was already on his nightstand. he never put it away, not after the last time you called him your ‘pathetic little mess’. he drops to the center of the bed. he didn’t even need lube, he was already leaking so much. then, he lines himself up, and pushes in.

squelch.

it was fucking obscene, loud in the silence. the fleshlight warm, and too tight around his weepy cock. it was perfect. his head tips back with a gasp as he thrusts forward automatically. it was desperate, and mindless, as if he was being dragged by instinct alone.

‘you’re just loud.’

the first orgasm was almost immediate. it creeps up fast, too fast for his liking, leaving his body tense, and spasming. he cums with a muffled groan, hips stuttering up into the toy, thighs shaking under the pressure.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even pause. he couldn't. he was still so hard, aching, and your voice was everywhere.

bucky’s hands started to shake by the second orgasm. the toy is slick now, filthy with his cum. each thrust was too wet, too soft, and too much, yet not enough at the same time. his whole body burnt, overstimulated, and starving all at once. he rubs his cock raw against the toy, chasing that pressure again, whimpering when it builds too fast.

his second orgasm crashes into him harder than the first. his mouth opened, and his hips twitched so violently the toy nearly slips from his hand. his abs cramp with the effort, and his breath catches in his throat.

still, he doesn’t stop.

by the third, it hurt. but it hurt so good.

the tip of his cock was swollen, and flushed, too sensitive to touch, but he keeps thrusting into the toy, keeps panting, keeps picturing the look on your face when you snapped at him.

‘stand the fuck up.’

bucky lost count of how many times he had came. four? five?

at some point, his legs just fell open, limp, and spread wide on the mattress as the toy slides wetly over his cock again, and again. he’s making sounds now, ugly, disgusting sounds, high, broken moans he tried to bury in his wrist. the overstimulation has his thighs jerking with every stroke, every thrust of his cock into the toy.

by the last orgasm, he’s barely even hard anymore, just swollen, trembling, and leaking onto the toy with little hiccupped gasps, and whines. his stomach was sticky, hand slick all the way to his wrist, the sheets underneath him ruined, and cum all over the towel he used halfway through, and forgot to toss.

he finally lets the toy fall from his hand. his fingers wouldn’t close anymore. his entire body is trembling, sweat cooling on his body. his shirt had rode up to his chest with the way he kept going at it, letting his cum drip all over his abs. he drags the towel limply over his abs in a half-hearted attempt to clean himself up, but his arms give out halfway through.

he didn’t even manage to roll over, just falls asleep like that, legs still spread, shirt clinging to his back, cock soft, and sore against his thigh.

he doesn’t dream, just aches.

—

the common room was already buzzing.

john’s letting bob read the news on his tablet.

yelena, and ava are nursing orange juice.

alexei’s lounging on the couch in some horrible silk robe.

and then there’s you, perfectly comfortable at the kitchen island, coffee in hand, legs crossed.

bucky steps in, slowly. his hair was damp, shirt inside-out, eyes glassy. and what’s worse was that he was fucking limping. it was subtle, but it’s there. he’s too stiff, too careful.

bob notices immediately.

“you look like you got hit by a truck.” bob says. “are you okay, bucky?”

“again?” alexei adds. “are you even trying to dodge anymore?”

“did you get jumped in the hallway? blink twice if it was walker.” yelena spoke.

bucky doesn’t even react, just shuffles to the counter. he grabbed a mug, placed it under the coffee machine, and just stared at it.

everyone watched, including you.

“did you break that?” yelena asked.

“i didn’t- it’s not broken, it’s just.. technical difficulties.” he spoke, voice a little too high.

“sure, you look like someone gave you technical difficulties.”

bucky takes a deep breath, then continues. it was just coffee, and toast, how hard could it be?

he grabs a slice of bread, drops it, picks it back up, and drops it again. he plugs in the toaster, and just stares at the dial. it was already set to 3. he turns it to 4, then back to 2, then 5. then he forgets which level he actually wanted.

his coffee had finally started brewing, it smells good. he sighs in relief, but then the toaster pops, and he jumps so hard he yelps. the stares at the toaster like it had betrayed him. his toast was burnt.

“fuck.” he yanks it out, setting it on a plastic plate. he didn’t trust himself with thin glass at the moment. “..i need butter.”

bucky opens the fridge, stares inside, and completely blanks on what butter even looks like.

“he’s gone.” john spoke.

bucky’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, then he shakes his head like he can physically reboot himself.

bob walks over, and helps him with his toast, and coffee.

when he finally returns to the table, everyone was eager to know what had happened to him.

“you okay there soldier?” alexei asked.

“he’s.. limping. like actually. that’s a ‘my legs gave out’ limp.” fuck, bob was in it too.

“you look like you fucked a blender.” yelena continued.

“or like a blender fucked you.” you added, and everyone couldn’t help but laugh.

“no one touched me.” he muttered, voice hoarse from moaning for hours on end. “i’m fine.”

“what?” alexei squinted at him.

“what?” he repeated, slower this time. “no one touched me last night. that’s not what- it wasn’t-”

“didn’t say someone touched you.” yelena chirps. “you did that to yourself huh?”

“god, you’re worse than walker.” ava added.

“don’t bring me into this!” john groaned.

“i’m fine. just.. didn’t get r- didn’t get sleep.”

“you said you didn't get enough sleep, are you sure no one touched you?” bob asked.

“yeah, so i’m fine.”

everyone stared at bucky.

“that’s.. not how that works.” alexei added.

“but it is,” he replies, clearly convinced. “because i, like, i just.. did it myself.”

“wait, you did that to yourself?” yelena practically jumped out of her seat.

“n-no. yeah.. i mean- not like that. i didn’t- it’s not-” bucky grunts, keeping his eyes on the floor. he tries to shuffle back to the table without making noise, but everything about him is loud. the limp, the damp hair that he clearly didn’t dry properly, the faint flush on his cheeks, the tremble of overexertion in his hands.

“holy shit, no fucking way.” ava turned to you. “did you have anything to do with this?” she asked, turning towards you.

“he did this to himself. he didn’t touch him, you can tell.” john defended you.

“blink twice if you got railed into the mattress last night.” yelena asked.

“he blinked five times. that’s code for ‘overstimulated himself, and now he can’t walk’.” you hinted at it.

“that’s.. embarrassing, kinda. sorry, bucky.” bob spoke.

bucky grips his coffee mug like it’s the last shred of dignity he had. he doesn’t say a word. he looked like he spent the whole night getting railed to oblivion, which would make sense, except you didn’t touch him.

all you did was say ‘go ahead, get yourself off thinking about what i could’ve done to you.’

you didn’t expect him to actually do it.

bucky felt it, that heat creeping up the back of his neck, that throb in his cock that he cannot handle right now, that twitch in his thighs from muscles that are still recovering from the abuse he gave them. he tried to sit down, fails the first time, then lowers himself with a hiss.

he sits way too carefully, thighs shaking. you catch him shifting in his seat like he can’t find a comfortable angle. he can’t, his cock was still oversensitive. even the slight drag of the cotton of his pants burnt.

then he reaches for a spoon, and knocks over the creamer.

“fuck.”

you crossed one leg over the other.

“okay maybe i had something to do with it.” you admitted. “i did say ‘get yourself off’, but i didn’t mean it literally. i didn’t say make yourself stupid over it.” you shrugged, and the table practically erupted in laughter.

you were lucky they were all really open-minded, or else you wouldn’t know how else you were supposed to deal with this.

bucky’s face turns a shade of red, and he tries to shoot you a flare, but his brain’s too fried to hold it. the best he could do was a pout, and groan.

the laughter still echoed when he tried to rally.

“it wasn’t like that.” his voice was hoarse, tight, and a little too defensive.

“oh this should be good.” ava was already grinning.

“i just worked out too hard last night.” he spoke.

“only an idiot would believe that. we weren’t born yesterday, soldier.” alexei snorted.

“you worked out, huh?” you hummed.

“yeah. a lot. like, arms, and uh, stuff.” bucky pointed weakly to one of them. “these. you know, burn.”

“burn.” ava repeats.

“didn’t know moaning into a pillow was considered as a workout.” yelena added.

“i wasn’t-” bucky stopped himself, realising how close he was to digging a deeper hole. “overtrained. too much.. discipline.”

“we don’t have to, the walk says it all.” ava joked.

“i just slept weird, okay?”

“are you sure you slept?” bob asked, he was clearly concerned, but didn’t want to miss out on the fun.

“i’m serious.” bucky insists.

“want to tell them how many times you came?”

the room went silent, and bucky cursed under his breath.

“wait, that’s what did it?” ava let out a low whistle.

bucky’s response was a little delayed.

“i don’t know.. like, six? ..oh my god.” he buried his face into his palms. he had muttered the truth, on autopilot.

the silence was instant, and everyone stares.

“wait- no, that’s not-”

yelena started howling.

“that’s commitment.” even bob had started laughing.

“i meant- fuck, i meant the workout. i did six sets last night.” he gestures with his spoon. “real.. intense.”

“what, a core workout? you’re walking like your spine’s rearranged.” john cackled.

“so proud of you soldier, that’s real stamina!” alexei patted bucky on the back

“i did not!” he tries to defend himself.

bucky opened his mouth, nothing comes out, not even a grunt. he tries to straighten up, stand taller, in an attempt to regain some dignity, but his thighs tremble, and everyone saw it. he limps off towards the exit.

—

it only got worse after breakfast.

the teasing? he could almost handle, the way everyone else side-eyed him when he winced or let out a grunt that he thought was silent? fine.

annoying, humiliating, but fine.

what wasn’t fine though, was how his body kept betraying him.

bucky’s pacing the hallways now, trying to walk it off, trying to calm down.

the problem is, every step does something to him. his thighs were so sore they trembled, his hips ached, and his cock, still twitchy, kept brushing against the fabric of his sweats just right, or wrong, he couldn’t tell anymore. it wasn’t even the stimulation anymore, it’s the echoes. he’s trying to be normal, he really is, but his skin remembers, and his muscles don’t fucking care what he wants.

so when he leans on the stairwell railing, innocently, he doesn’t expect his hips to shift, doesn’t expect the seam of his sweats to grind right up against the underside of his sensitive cock. his breath caught sharp in his throat, and he yanks back as if he got burnt.

he doesn’t mean to do all this, his brain’s just lagging behind, reacting three seconds too late to everything. he tells himself it’s just a flinch, but his hips rolled forward against the cool metal of the railing.

“fuck.” he hisses, pulling away.

bucky walks faster now, praying that movement will help.

it doesn’t.

every single surface is a threat. the wall? brushed his side, and made him gasp. even the back of a chair, a fucking chair, nearly buckled his knees when he bumped the edge of it against his thigh.

“this is ridiculous.” every time he rubs against something, by accident, he swears, his breath stutters. it wasn’t loud, wasn’t obvious, but there was a moan here, and a whimper there occasionally.

bucky gave up. the door to his room shut with a solid click.

he is not okay.

his cock was hard again. it had been hard on, and off the entire morning.

so now he’s pacing his room like an idiot, palms braced on the windowsill, the desk, the dresser, anything to hold himself up while his stupid, traitorous hips keep rocking into the air like they’re waiting to be grabbed, held down, and then used.

a pillow on the edge of his bed almost undoes him right there, and then. he presses down against it, just once, and his eyes roll back. his mouth falls open, he mewls, and then he panics.

no, no. he can’t go there again, not after last night, not after he destroyed himself already, rubbed himself raw with that toy, drenched the inside of the fleshlight until it was dripping. he came six times, maybe seven. he lost count when his cock started to ache every time he twitched.

his body doesn’t give a fuck though. his cock twitches again, straining against the thin fabric of his sweats, and his knees go weak this time. thank god he was already on the bed, or he would’ve collapsed on the ground.

so, bucky does the only thing he can possibly think of. he grabs a towel, stumbles into the bathroom, and runs cold water all over his face until the sound of blood rushing in his ears quiets down.

he dries off, slowly, like he’s trying to stay calm. he isn’t though.

eventually, he peels off the sweats, sticky, and humiliatingly damp, then he flops back into bed with a groan. the towel ends up under his hips, because he can’t trust his body not to leak the second he thinks about you.

he didn’t mean to fall asleep, but the exhaustion takes him, finally.

—

when bucky wakes, it was already dark. the towel under him is damp again, maybe from sweat this time. his cock isn’t hard anymore, thank god, but it’s tender, raw, and sore. he still can’t stop thinking about you.

so when the knock comes, he thinks he’s dreaming.

“open the door, bucky.”

your voice.

his eyes snap open, heart thudding.

“fuck, i can't do this. not right now.” he scrambles up, muscles protesting, pulls his sweats up, and stumbles to the door. when he opens it, you’re already leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. he’s shirtless, in just his sweats, damp again.

you glance past bucky into the room, towel on the bed, wrinkled sheets, the toy still thrown somewhere on his mattress.

“you know i wasn’t serious about getting yourself off, right?”

“i know.” he couldn’t meet your eyes.

“but you did it anyway.”

“..yeah.”

you step in, shutting the door behind you.

bucky backs up on instinct, but there really wasn’t anywhere to go. he bumps into the dresser, and you follow.

“still not okay?” you ask softly.

“i was.” he hides his face in his arm, climbing onto the bed.

“you were fine?”

“after the nap, sort of.”

you sat down on the edge of the bed, and he flinches when it dips.

“seriously?” you asked. “i'm not doing anything.”

“you- fuck, you know what you sound like, right? what you do to me?”

“i just wanted to see what you’d do, and now you’re like this, can’t think, can’t even walk straight.” you leaned in closer. “you’ve been grinding into everything like a desperate thing.”

“..you don’t know that.” he groans.

“i can guess.” you sighed. “thought you could get off without me? that feel good, huh?”

bucky’s thighs are trembling again.

“didn’t even last, did you? couldn’t fucking wait.”

“i couldn’t stop.” he whispers. “i kept trying to cum until i didn’t want it anymore, and it- it just got worse.”

you grabbed his jaw.

“did i say you could touch yourself at all? did i give you direct orders to do that?”

“no.” he shook his head.

“so what��s going to happen now?”

bucky blinks at you, dazed.

“now i’m going to show you what happens when you cum without permission, hm?”

he groans at that, like the sheer sound of your voice short-circuits his brain.

you push him back against the pillows, and prop his feet up. the moment you lick his cock, slowly, from the base to the tip, he screams.

“fuck! oh god, fuck, fuck- fuck! i can’t-”

you suck him in all the way in one smooth motion, and his knees buckle.

“you- your fucking mouth- fuck, fuck it’s too much, it’s fuck- please..”

you hum around him, and his entire body jolts.

bucky made a choked, gasping noise like a sob.

“why does it feel this- ugh, you- you’re going to kill me, i swear-”

you pop off slowly, dragging your tongue along the underside, and grin up at him.

“i haven’t even started yet, sweetheart.” you climb over him, pin his wrists down, and leave marks on his neck.

“please- please, fuck me. i need it. i’ll lose my mind if you don’t. i-i’ll cum again from your voice if you don’t-”

“then shut up, and let me prepare you.”

bucky moans at that like it’s fucking praise.

your fingers find his hole, and stroke there gently.

“so pretty, is this all for me?”

he nods.

“that’s good. you want me to stretch you nice, and slow before i fuck you, don’t you?” you spit in your hand, and rub it into him, fingers slick, and gentle. the first finger goes in with barely any resistance, but you don’t rush, just work him open with steady, shallow strokes, making sure every movement brushes his prostate.

bucky’s head lolls to the side when you lean down, and kiss the soft skin of his stomach while you added more fingers. his back arches, and he lets out a high whine.

“that’s it, open up for me. i want you nice, and relaxed before i ruin you.”

“ahh- oh fuck, that’s- fuck, please, i-i can’t..” he whimpers. “i’m going to c-cum, just from that, i swear to god-”

“don’t you dare.” you murmur.

“i’m sorry- i-i’ve been so sensitive, can’t help it-”

you slap your free hand over bucky’s mouth, and you swear his eyes roll back.

“you cum again without permission, and i’ll edge you for the rest of the fucking night.” you growled.

he whines, nodding.

“you ready for it? want my cock inside you?”

“y-yeah.” he breathes. “want it- want you so bad-”

“come on, where are your manners?” you stroke your thumb across the tip of his leaking cock, and press down, hard.

bucky jerks, and his eyes fly open. a strangled gasp tears out of his throat, and he scrambles.

“f-fuck.. shit.” he chokes.

you don’t move your thumb, just kept the pressure firm.

he tries to writhe, but he’s so weak.

“please- i can’t- oh my god-”

you finally let up, and he almost collapses.

“that too much for you?”

he nodded.

“please.. please fuck me.. feels too good..”

you take off your pants, and let the tip of your cock nudge against his hole, but you don’t press in, not yet.

“see? that’s better. good boys use their manners.”

when you finally push in, his back arches off the bed.

“fuck- oh god, oh god. i can feel everything, you’re so deep- aah..” he gasps as you bottom out, his words dissolving into another broken moan. his head falls back against the pillow, and for a second it looked like he had short-circuited completely. he grabs at the sheets like they’ll ground him, but they don’t, nothing does, not when you were 8 inches deep in him.

“loud already? i’ve barely done anything yet.” you fuck him slowly, and deeply. “fuck, you’re soaked.”

bucky shakes his head wildly, but his brain was already gone. he tries to answer, really, but all that comes out is a trembling, broken sound.

“oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck- no, wait- slow.. no- please, just.. oh my god, your cock, y-your cock feels.. so good.. i-i’m going to.. haa.. no- wait! fuck, don’t- too much- please, oh god! can’t- fuck, can’t take-” he was rambling now.

“i know you can’t.”

and he fucking sobs.

“too bad. you’re going to take it.” you growl, fucking him through it. ”you’re going to take every fucking inch until you can’t walk, yeah?”

“i already can’t- fuck, fuck- fuck!” his legs started to spasm, and you pin them down. he’s crying, thrashing under you, tears in his eyes from the sheer intensity.

“such a messy slut. thought you could get yourself off, and be fine? you needed me this whole time, didn’t you?”

“yes- yes! i need you- n-need your cock.. need you inside me-”

you grab bucky’s jaw to kiss him hard, and he fucking whines into your mouth.

“then shut up, and take it.” you fuck him hard now. deep, punishing strokes that make the bedframe bang against the wall.

you lean over, drag your hand down his chest, then grip his waist again, and thrusted.

“ah- uh, uh, uh-” his voice stutters with every push, the rhythm forces the noises out of him like you’re fucking the breath straight from his lungs.

you always loved when he started making these sounds.

he tried to keep it in, but he can’t, his body just reacts for him.

every single thrust knocks another sound out of him.

“that’s all you’ve got left to say?”

“nnh.. uh, uh-” he chokes, legs shaking around your waist. “fuck- uh, uh, please-” he was gone, drooling, sobbing, words slurring, and breaking apart by the slap of your hips against him.

you fuck him harder, and he screams.

it just kept coming, those helpless, punched out sounds that get faster, and more urgent, like his brain’s short-circuiting, and that’s all he knows how to do now, moan, and take it.

“you’re going to cum like this.”

bucky’s body jerks, you don’t even touch his cock. his thighs snap shut around you, and he wails as he cums.

“good boy.”

he shudders again, violently, like your praise shoots right through his spine. when it was over, he went slack under you.

—

the morning after, the kitchen went dead silent when you walked in. you looked normal, like usual.

then bucky limps in after you.

the moment he appeared in the doorway, everyone’s eyes snap to him.

“worse than yesterday.” john mutters.

bob’s jaw drops, and yelena clutches her mug like it’s a lifeline.

ava was the first to break.

“oh my fucking god.”

“..i’m fine.” bucky said bluntly,

“you screamed last night, you know that right?” yelena asked.

“i didn’t.” he sighed.

“you fucking wailed.” john says. “you were crying, shit echoed.”

“what?”

“soldier, you howled!” alexei chimed in as well.

bucky glares at the table.

“shut up.”

“pretty sure the walls shook.” yelena added.

“and then you started whimpering, like actual sobs.” ava replied.

“i wasn’t sobbing!” his face goes completely red, and he sunk lower in his seat.

“you were loud..” bob said. “thought you were dying.”

“can we not-” he starts. “i was sleeping. you were all dreaming.”

“so what was all that moaning? sleep talking?” yelena tilted her head.

“must’ve been.”

“you whined.” john said.

“i didn’t-”

“like a puppy.” alexei continued.

you raised your cup silently, hiding a smile behind the rim.

bucky shoots you a betrayed glance.

“you’re just going to let them-?”

“wasn’t me.” you shrugged. “they’re making their own conclusions.”

“thought about recording it, for educational purposes.” ava spoke.

“she means blackmailing, by the way.” yelena winked.

“i-i was overstimulated okay? it happens!” he said, before realising what he had just admitted.

“overstimulated! you’re such a slut.” ava almost fell out of her chair laughing.

“god. i hate all of you.” he drags both hands down his face.

“so.. we all know who it was.” john sighs.

“i wasn’t- fuck, i wasn’t that loud..” bucky tries to say something else to defend himself, but that was all that came out.

you hum quietly.

“he was very good for me.”

the entire table goes feral.

“oh my god-”

“what the fuck?!”

“shut up- i’m trying to eat-”

everyone was screaming, laughing so hard they might just start crying.

bucky just groans, banging his forehead gently against the counter.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #x male reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #bottom bucky barnes #sub bucky barnes #top male reader #dom male reader #buckblurbs

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