#how it feels preparing for my second interview

[horsebf]

*vincent collateral voice* can you lock the fuck in

[chahnniesroom]

too close to home

pairing: none (platonic ot8 & female reader)

summary: as the only female of stray kids, you've always felt a little out of place. this comeback, the comments and criticism seem to hit a little too close to home and you start to think that maybe the group is better off without you.

word count: 8.5k

tags/warnings: 9th member au, hurt/comfort, angst, mean fans, anxious thinking, insecurities, overthinking

a/n: this is my first fic for my appreciation event! big thank you to everyone who has supported me and sorry this took so long to post.

special shoutout to @kangaracha who is basically the only reason i was able to finish this fic! she was my biggest cheerleader throughout my writing and if you would like to read an amazing 9th member fic, please please go read queenmaker.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

You had known from the start that it would be difficult being in a co-ed group. It was rare, especially in K-pop. But being outnumbered eight to one? It was unheard of.

You had been just as surprised all those years ago, when the company had pulled you into a room and offered you a position in the boy group that they were about to debut.

You had heard about the team that Chan had put together, every trainee had gossiped about how JYPE was trying something new with a self-formed team. You hadn't paid too much attention to it, you were busy enough with preparing for your own evaluations and the possibility of being included in what everybody had thought was a boys group hadn't even crossed your mind.

You had accepted the position almost immediately.

At that point, you had been a trainee for almost three years, but had only been considered for debut less than a handful of times. You knew with each line-up that hadn't worked out, you were closer to being forced to give up on the idea of becoming an idol. If you rejected the offer this time, you might not get another and you had been ready to do anything to achieve your dream. 

Plus, you knew there was a high chance that they'd drop you from the group anyway. The position brought a lot of interest to the group, but you knew the company would be watching closely to determine whether it was worth the risk or not. 

It had been a bit of a rocky start, but now the nine of you were close, you had to be when you spent most of your waking time together. You considered the boys to be your second family and you knew that they felt the same way. 

It was just that there was clearly a difference in the dynamic when you were and weren’t with the group. It wasn’t necessarily bad just… different. The boys never excluded you or made you feel like you weren’t part of the group and you had great individual relationships with each of the members. 

It was inevitable though, you had never shared a dorm with the group, especially earlier in your career when you were less familiar and it would have been entirely unacceptable. You knew that this was the main reason you didn’t feel quite as part of the group, there was just a level of closeness that was formed when you actually lived with someone.

Well, it was that and the nagging guilt because you knew that Chan had hand-picked every member of Stray Kids himself.

Every member except you.

While the members had promised that they were the ones who had the final say, you knew it wasn't quite what they had expected. All of you had been desperate to debut though and even if it wasn't ideal, nobody was going to say anything that might jeopardize this chance.

Still, you could tell that the boys did their best to include you and for the most part, they succeeded. Even early on when things had been a little bit awkward between you, they were fiercely protective. In interviews, they insisted over and over that they wanted you in the group and it had been nice to hear, even if you knew they were just saying it for the cameras. 

They frequently invited you over for dinner or just to hang out, but you couldn't help feeling jealous when it was time for you to leave at the end of each night. It wasn't anything you could change though, so you just tried to appreciate their company while you had it.

So when the company brings up the idea of new dorm arrangements, you're surprised and a bit confused when they don't immediately inform you of where you'll be staying and kick you out of the meeting room. You've never participated in the discussions that the boys have regarding roommates, there has never been any reason to. 

You're shocked by how easily things fall into place, even more so when Chan approaches you, asking if you'd feel comfortable living with him and Jeongin. They assure you that any of the pairings would be happy to have you stay with them though, and that they'd also understand if you preferred to live on your own.

You were hesitant at first. It had been out of the question when you had first debuted. Even if you and the boys had been comfortable with it, which you weren’t, the company would have totally rejected the idea of one girl living with eight boys.

Instead, their solution had been to force you to remain in the trainee dorm even after your debut which meant constantly listening to jealous girls criticize anything and everything about you. It had been exhausting, partly because you were getting used to balancing schedules with practice, but also because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mad at them. You were all too familiar with the disappointment and frustration that came with watching the people around you succeeding.

You had briefly considered asking about sharing with the boys when the dorms had split in half because you knew you needed to get out of the toxic environment the other girls were creating, but then the company had offered you an apartment to yourself. It had been one of the easiest decisions you had ever made. 

It had been too good to be true, though. The apartment had given you the privacy that you had craved, there were a multitude of issues that almost made you miss being in the trainee dorms. Whether you moved to a new apartment on your own or into one of the dorms with the boys, you knew that it would be an improvement.

You’re curious what living with the boys would be like and honestly, you’re a bit lonely in your current apartment. It only takes a day or two of thinking before you confirm that you’d like to join them.

The moving process is quick too, at least for you. The boys offered to help you move, but you adamantly refused. Your place had been so tiny that you didn't have the space to store many things and you didn't like shopping that much anyway so all of your clothes fit into the couple of large suitcases that you kept under your bed. Since most of the furniture had come with the room, you were able to bring everything over to the new dorm before the boys had even finished packing.

It's hard to settle in at first. You don't have any siblings and have never had to live with boys so it takes some getting used to. Luckily both Chan and Jeongin are quite careful about being respectful of your space. 

It's also a relief that you get to divide up some of the housework that you used to have to do all on your own. Even though it's not too much, it's nice to have more time in your day for other things and the three of you have developed a system that works well and feels natural.

Chan is meticulously clean and although you don't think you're that messy, you’re more careful to keep things in the right place. The worst part is that you know Chan won't complain or nag you if you leave your things around, he just quietly cleans up your messes which makes you feel both touched and a bit guilty.

You have no regrets about moving in with them, especially when you start to get more busy. It's nice to be living with people who have the same or similar schedules to you so you don't have to worry about losing track of time and being late to things. 

Not only that, but you feel like you have more support. Jeongin reminds you to eat regular meals and Chan checks in when he notices that you're up later than usual. The three of you chat more than you did before and now have a number of different inside jokes.

You're especially grateful because you can already sense that this comeback is going to be hard on you. It's not the songs that have you concerned, all the recording finished smoothly and you're more than happy with how your parts turned out. You also really like the concept that's being proposed for the cover art and all the music videos.

It's the dance that's the problem.

As a trainee, you had always excelled in dancing and had actually had been assigned the role of main dancer in some of the girl groups that you were considered for. It made it especially hard to come to terms with the fact that when you had joined Stray Kids, you weren't even included in the dance line. You knew that your singing was nice and your voice added diversity to the group, but it had never been what you were most confident in and you felt inadequate compared to Seungmin and Jeongin.

But when it comes to this title track, it's especially obvious why you're not considered as one of the lead dancers. By lunchtime, everyone has memorized the moves, you included, but the choreography is definitely more suited for male dancers. No matter how much you focus on trying to match the style of everyone else, you're sticking out like a sore thumb. 

Most of the members take a short break for lunch, but you're determined to keep practicing and Minho is willing to coach you through the parts that you're struggling with the most. On a technical level, you're hitting most of the moves, but you still haven't been able to do a runthrough that doesn't elicit at least a few corrections. You can tell that Minho is running out of patience and you're even more frustrated than he is.

Luckily the rest of practice is working on the different formations and angles for filming the music video, dance practice, and future performances. The details are less important and everyone is mainly focused on not crashing into each other.

You try to sneak in as many solo practice sessions as you can, but by the time filming for the dance practice rolls around, you’re still not feeling confident. In fact, you’ve been dreading the schedule for days and you feel a little queasy every time you think about it. It's far from your first dance practice filming, but something about this one just feels more daunting.

The morning of filming, you force yourself to eat a decent breakfast, knowing that skipping it would just make dancing more difficult for yourself. Chan had woken up early to prepare a simple meal while you and Jeongin had helped set the table and clean up afterwards. You're a bit more jittery than usual and you're pretty sure both of the boys have noticed, but they don't comment which you appreciate.

Everyone goes through hair and makeup fairly quickly, there's no elaborate outfits and crazy makeup for a more casual video like this. Your bad feeling for today just worsens when you see that while the rest of the boys are in their usual loose fitting sweats and shirts, you've been given a tight fitting outfit that reveals a bit more of your midriff than you usually like to show off. Even though you can't deny that it's a flattering look, it just makes you self conscious, feeling like you stood out even more than you usually did standing beside the guys.

Determined to power through filming, you warm up as quickly as you can so that you can spend as much time as possible reviewing the moves with the rest of the boys before the crew finishes setting up.

Your stomach is a flurry of butterflies as you get in position to start filming, even though you know that usually the first try is a throwaway. Not only is this the first time filming for the day, but the group hasn't actually done a performance of your new single, only practices.

You monitor the recording carefully. There's a few things to improve with the camera angles and position, that was to be expected, but you still have the nagging feeling that something about your dancing doesn't match the rest of the group.

You try to make your movements bigger in the next run through, while still looking natural and staying in time with the music. It's not quite right though and each time you try again, there's more and more things that you're unhappy with.

You can tell the rest of the group isn't pleased with how things are going either. You've been doing this long enough that these dance practices usually only take a couple hours to record, but now it's been at least three and none of the takes have even been considered as a keeper. A few times you haven't even been able to make it to the end of the song before someone messes up.

Your choreographer is in the back of the room and although he hasn't explicitly called you out, you can feel his gaze on you the longer this takes. 

“Come on guys,” Minho complains after a short break. ��Focus! Let's get it done this time.” You watch as his eyes flicker towards where you're standing for the faintest of moments as he says it. It feels like a blow to the stomach.

You hate disappointing people, you're only human after all, but something feels even worse when you know it's the other members that you're letting down. Especially when it comes to dance, because you've always wanted to impress Minho and his notoriously high standards. The guilt sits heavy in your stomach as you push through your growing fatigue and take your position in front of the camera again.

As soon as both the director and choreographer announce that you're finished for the day, almost everybody collapses on the spot. One-takes are always the most exhausting and everybody has to focus on keeping their movements sharp because it's extremely obvious when you aren't in sync.

You, on the other hand, make your way to the screens where they're showing the playback. Sweat is dripping from your neck and forehead and you absent-mindedly swipe it away as you watch. Someone drapes a small towel over your head and you look over to see that Minho and Hyunjin have crowded behind you to take a look.

“It's good,” one of the managers comments.

Instead of agreeing, Minho hums noncommittally. You feel yourself tense up.

“What?” the manager asks. “Don't tell me you want to do it again.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Minho says mildly. 

“We can do another take,” the director offers. From behind him, one of the camera people groans quietly. You try not to wince at the sound and only partially succeed.

“I think this is the best we're going to get,” Minho replies, before he turns and walks back to where his things are, effectively ending the discussion.

“Sorry for making everyone stay late,” you say quietly, bowing quickly before trailing after Minho. Hyunjin eyes you weirdly as he keeps pace.

“Why'd you say that?” he asks as he packs his bag.

“I felt bad that they had to stay so long,” you say, confused. “We normally tell them that if filming goes over.”

“No.” Hyunjin pauses his movement to study you. You can't help but shrink away, feeling a bit like a bug under a microscope “We normally thank them for their hard work. You made it sound like it was your fault.”

“It's just been a long morning,” you deflect. “Are you heading back to the dorms now?”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his wet hair, flicking sweat everywhere. “Have to shower and I have a bit of time before my vocal lesson. Want to head back together?”

“You go ahead first,” you reassure him. “I have a couple things left to do at the company so I'll stick around for a bit longer.”

“Sure. If you're finished early, feel free to drop by. We can have dinner or something together,” Hyunjin offers.

“Sounds good! I don't know if I'll have time, but I'll definitely see I can join,” you promise.

Lying always leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, but you know there's no way you're going to sacrifice time that you could be using to improve the dance just to hang out.

You stay late in the studio that night. Your only other schedule for the day is fittings for the music video and all the music shows, which finishes pretty quickly. Since you don't have much of an appetite anyway, you choose to skip Hyunjin’s dinner offer to continue practicing more. You had asked one of the managers to send you a copy of the dance practice and each time you replay it, the pit in your stomach seems to grow.

You lose track of time, picking apart each and every move to try and figure out what you're doing wrong. It's not until Minho knocks on the door and enters, startling you in the middle of yet another runthrough, that you realise how long you've been practicing.

“You still have so much energy?” Minho calls out as he walks closer to you.

“Just had a few things I wanted to fix up before I went home,” you explain in between breaths. 

“And?”

“And what?” you ask.

“Did you fix them?” he replies, raising an eyebrow as he scans your sweaty form and the empty room. “Have you been practicing this whole time? You've been here so long that even Channie-hyung went home. He asked me if you were at our place.”

“What? I-”

“It's almost 2am,” he says gently. “It's time to go home.”

“Can I do one more run through?” you ask sheepishly. “Actually, it’s good that you’re here, I just want to make sure-”

“You've been practicing long enough.” Minho's voice turns stern and he grabs your hand to lead you to the couch to sit. “Did you even eat?”

“I wasn't hungry,” you say quietly.

“Y/n-ah,” Minho scolds you. “You need to fuel your body if you're going to work it so hard, you know we've talked about this.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to practice more,” you say, staring down at your hands. You’re not allowed to pick at your nails since you just got them done, so you settle for fidgeting with one of the rings that you’re wearing. The sharp edges of the gemstones prick at your fingers but you can’t get yourself to stop. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I just couldn’t get the dance right today. We had to film it so many times.”

“What are you talking about, Y/n-ah?” Minho asks, bewildered. “We weren’t- you weren’t the reason we had to redo the dance so many times.”

You look up at him finally and don’t see any of the annoyance that you were expecting. The concern and genuine confusion that you find instead catches you off guard.

“What? But- On our fourth take during the second chorus, my legwork was so sloppy compared-”

“Hannie literally forgot which direction we were supposed to move and he almost knocked into me,” Minho interrupts. “There was no way we were going to be able to use the footage, that’s why we stopped early.”

“Oh, I didn’t notice.”

Minho taps a finger to his lips, deep in thought.

“Fifth take, well that was my fault, so we're not going to talk about that. Sixth try, Yongbokkie and Innie both missed a cue and crouched later than everybody else, that one made me want to pull out my hair.” He shakes his head.

“That’s when we took a break,” you realise.

“Yeah, we were hoping it would help us have a clean run. Jinnie had sweated through his makeup and needed touch-ups anyway.”

“I thought you guys were annoyed at me,” you say in a small voice. “You didn't seem happy with the final video.”

“It wasn't my best take,” Minho admits. “I kind of wanted to do it again, but I didn't want you guys to have to stay even later.”

“Did you even see yourself?” You reach for your phone and unlock it to show the paused dance practice video. ��Look, I've been trying to copy how fluid you moved in this part. See there? I looked so stiff compared to you, it's awful.”

“Y/n-ah,” Minho says carefully. 

“And look at this move,” you say, skipping ahead a couple seconds. “I couldn't quite-”

You cut yourself off mid-sentence when Minho leans forward to pluck your phone our of your hands and throw it off to the side. You don't even fight him, just stare with wide eyes, scared of what he's going to say next. 

“You were fine, you did well. But even if you did mess up, it's okay. This dance is tiring, it's challenging. We all have bad days and it's okay to make mistakes.”

When you don’t say anything in response, he slowly moves closer and envelops you in a tight hug. You sniffle a little bit and when he starts to rub slow but firm circles onto your back, you can't stop the few tears that escape.

“Hey, what's going through your mind, huh?” he asks in a low voice. “Why are you being so hard on yourself?”

“I just don't want to let you guys down,” you say.

“Y/n-ah, you're not letting us down if we have to do a few more takes on a dance practice,” Minho says incredulously. “Is that all that's been worrying you?”

“Yeah,” you lie. “I was just nervous about filming the dance and disappointed when it didn't go like I wanted it to.”

“Silly girl,” Minho says, ruffling your hair affectionately. “You're doing just fine. It's okay to be nervous, but you don't have to be pushing yourself so hard. Come on, it's time to go home, we have an early schedule tomorrow.”

You follow him meekly as he leads you out of the building and to where a driver is waiting to take you back to your dorm. Even though you feel a bit better knowing that you weren't the cause of the schedule overruns, you're still not satisfied with how you're dancing, but you know that it's pointless to pick a fight. Not only is Minho just as stubborn as you, he's not afraid to bring in reinforcements and you'd hate for the rest of the group to catch on to how you've been spending most of your free time. They already have enough to worry about, the last thing you want is to add to that.

Moving forward, you don't stop practicing, but you do take more care to try and pretend that it's not eating up all your free time. You stop using your favourite studio, you know the dance so well that most of the time you don't even have music playing, and you make sure not to stay out late enough that it's noticeable.

You start to feel a little silly with how much time you've devoted to this, significantly more than the rest of the members, especially when the music video filming goes by without a hitch. By the time the Studio Choom video is filmed, you're a lot more confident about the performance and even starting to enjoy yourself.

The rest of the preparations for the comeback start to fly by, especially after the album announcement goes live. There's not a day that goes by that's not filled with different photoshoots or interviews.

Before you know it, the album is released and even though your schedule is absolutely packed, you spend all your free time reading through comments and reactions. Maybe it was cliche to say, but you really did treasure hearing from Stays and comebacks were always when you felt closest to them.  You especially liked being able to interact with them on a more personal level.

You were almost certain that you were the most active member on Bubble, you liked to send daily updates on what you were doing and reminders to Stay about maintaining their health. It did sting that you were also pretty certain that you had the least subscriptions and likely some of them only stuck around because you thought it was funny to send candid photos of the boys every so often.

You had always looked forward to fan signs the most though. Before you had debuted, you had loved seeing footage of the cute accessories, silly pick-up lines, and heartfelt messages from the fans. Not only that, but it was the only chance to speak to fans in person, even if it was only for a minute or two.

You were immensely grateful for everyone that supported you, but maybe it was your eager anticipation for fan signs that left you feeling so disappointed and empty. You had slowly grown used to Stays ignoring you for the boys, for always being the one that didn't receive any gifts to play with, for having the smallest stack of letters at the end of each event. But somehow you were always hopeful that the next time would be different.

Of course, it wasn't like you resented everybody else in the group. In fact, you were genuinely glad that they were enjoying themselves because they deserved it. They worked hard, were amazing performers and talented at creating music, and as a result, the fans loved them.

You, on the other hand, were just missing something, and it seemed that nothing you could do would change that. You had bounced through different positions, focused on vocals, dance, rap, music production, writing lyrics, and had enjoyed yourself thoroughly the whole time. If only the fans had liked it as much as you.

At least with fan calls, it wasn't as blatantly obvious that you were the least popular, least favourite member of the group. In fact, sometimes you were glad because you knew the boys often had crazy fans who had absurd or cringy requests while most of the time you spoke with someone who was politely feigning their interest.

It's almost funnier when the company sits you all down in the same room for the calls like they do today because you get to witness and subsequently tease the boys for the aegyo and silly poses they're forced to do. It's not like any of you can refuse anything the fans ask you to do, not with the staff breathing down your neck the whole time.

As expected, most of your calls are fairly generic and you're grateful for it. You have easy conversations about the album, which dances are your favourite, and you get to share some stories from the tour that you recently finished. You're maybe halfway through the calls when things start to take a turn for the worst.

“I even think that you would have done great as a solo artist! Are you thinking of releasing any solo music soon?” the girl that you're talking to asks excitedly.

“Oh, thank you.” You smile back even though the innocent question makes your chest ache for some reason. “I- well, solo music-” You take a deep breath to gather your thoughts. “I don't know about the future, but right now I really can't imagine releasing anything other than music as a part of Stray Kids. I love working and performing with the rest of the members and I wouldn't want to change anything.”

It's how you actually feel, but you can't help the way that your eyes dart over to check on the staff member that's supervising your call. You feel a bit better when you see their nod of approval and try to focus on the fan to finish the rest of the conversation.

Thankfully you get a quick break before the next call. You know the fan was probably trying to be encouraging, she had started off the call praising your skills and was probably just curious. Still, there's a voice in your mind that tells you that she'd prefer it if you weren't a member of Stray Kids. Or rather, she'd prefer that Stray Kids didn't have you in it.

You try to bring a positive mindset into your next call, but it's with a Stay that’s decidedly less interested in talking to you. You exchange greetings and make small talk until she seems to get an idea that makes her sit up straight all of a sudden.

“I have a question for you,” she says, eyes glinting in a way that makes you a little nervous, even though you're not sure why.

“Go ahead,” you encourage her because you're mostly feeling a bit relieved that she's finally showing some emotion other than boredom.

“Which of the boys would you say is best in bed?” she asks slyly.

You stare at her dumbly, thinking that you must have misheard her.

“Sorry,” you say, laughing uncomfortably. “I don't- I don't think I understand your question.”

“You heard me,” she scoffs. “What's the point in having you in the group if you're not sleeping with at least some, if not all of them?”

“No, I- It's not like that, I don't-” Flustered, you stare desperately at the staff, hoping they'll step in and end the call. Instead they just motion for you to continue. “I mean, we're close, but not-”

“If you want, you can just tell me your favourites,” she giggles, as if she's just asked you what songs on the album you liked. “It must be either Chan or Jeongin, if you decided to live with them.”

“No!” you exclaim.

“So it's not either of them?” she says, tapping a finger against her lip in thought.

“That's not the kind of relationship we have.”

Mortified, you find that you're tearing up a bit. You've heard the theories before, know that there's a lot of gossip and rumours because you're in a group of men, but you've never been outright accused to your face like this.

From the corner of your blurry field of vision, you see Seungmin wave bye to whoever he's talking to. He must hear the distress in your voice because he glances over, then does a double-take when he sees just how bad you're doing.

“What's going on?” he demands, stalking over. Before the staff can do anything to stop him, he leans forward and disconnects the call without a warning. “Why didn't you do anything, isn't it obvious that something’s wrong?”

“Y/n-ssi was handling it,” the staff member says. “It’s not fair to the fans if you cut a call short without reason.”

“No reason? Do you have eyes?!” Seungmin motions to where you're surreptitiously trying to blot away the tears without smudging your makeup. He's gotten the attention of everyone in the room now, even the members who are still in calls and have to pretend nothing is happening in the background. You can only hope that the phones aren't able to pick up anything being said.

“Min,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you tug on his sleeve lightly. He glances back at you, eyes softening slightly. “It's okay, I'm fine.”

You're grateful that he's stood up for you, but all the scrutiny is getting a bit overwhelming. You just want to move on and pretend nothing happened because the last thing that you want is for the company to think you're a liability who can't even handle a nosy fan.

Seungmin crouches in front of you and studies you carefully. You're still clutching onto the sleeve of his sweater. You take a deep breath to compose yourself, then give him a watery smile.

“I was just being really sensitive today, I promise,” you plead. “Just let it go.”

He starts to say something, then cuts himself off, eyes watching something happening over your shoulder.

“Let's just take a quick break from the calls,” Chan says evenly. You didn't even notice that he came up being you and is standing behind you protectively. “We'll be back in 10 minutes.”

It's a command, not a suggestion, something that the staff would normally push back against, but for some reason they stay quiet, allowing the nine of you to filter out of the room unimpeded.

Nobody says anything until you find an unoccupied dance studio. Minho is quick to lock the door after you all pile in.

“Hey,” Seungmin says softly from where he's been stuck to your side. “You holding up okay?”

“Yeah, I don't know what happened. I'm fine now,” you say.

“Are you sure?” Felix asks from where he's sitting on your other side.

“Really, it was nothing,” you assure him.

“If you were upset, then it's something,” Seungmin insists. “We promise we won't think it's silly or anything. It's probably something we've all heard before anyway.”

You have to turn away from the way that he's looking at you with his huge, pleading eyes. But the rest of the group is also gathered around, concern lining their faces.

“She implied that the only reason I'm in the group is because I'm sleeping with all you,” you say stiffly, regretting it immediately when you feel both Seungmin and Felix freeze in place. “Which obviously is not true, so it's not a big deal.”

“Y/n, you know that's unacceptable, right?” Chan says slowly, through what sounds like gritted teeth. You finally tear your eyes away from where you've been staring at the patterns that you can see in the grain of the wooden flooring, to see that his jaw is clenched, neck muscles pulled tight. 

“Fans say inappropriate things all the time, it's not like I haven't read things like that before. It comes with the job.” You shrug.

“That doesn't make it okay. This is serious. You shouldn't have to-” Chan cuts himself off when he notices that he's started to raise his voice and just pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Listen, I know. I just- I don't want this to be a big commotion. It sucks, I didn't respond well, whatever, let's move on,” you say. “She's going to post about it online, but in a few days, nobody is going to remember anyway.”

“Hyung, can't we just end the call if they do anything inappropriate?” Changbin complains.

“You know that we can't,” you remind him before anybody else can say anything. “It's part of our contract.”

“I hate these stupid fan calls!” Hyunjin passionately declares from where he's sprawled out on the floor. “Channie-hyung, can we just cancel the rest of them?”

“Don't say that,” you scold him mildly. “You love fan calls the most out of all of us.”

“I love some of them,” he argues back. “But not if that's the way you're going to be treated during them. Plus, if another person asks me to call them mommy then I'm actually going to quit being an idol.”

“Ew, your fans are weird.” Jisung wrinkles his nose in disgust.

“They're your fans too!” Hyunjin shoots back.

“Okay,” Chan claps his hands together a couple times before things devolve further. “Unfortunately, we do have to continue with the rest of the calls and we can't delay things too much. It's time to head back.”

There's a bit of casual chatter as everybody heads back, but you can tell everyone is still feeling a bit tense. Seungmin only releases your hand when he absolutely has to and you squeeze a couple times before you let go to try and reassure him that you're going to be fine.

The second you sit down, a makeup artist descends on you, tutting her tongue when she sees that you've accidentally wiped away some of your eyeshadow. You obediently stay still, watching as Chan approaches your table too, stopping to lean down and say something in the ear of the staff member that has been monitoring you. The blood slowly drains from her face and she nods rapidly in agreement with whatever he tells her. He claps a hand on her shoulder and even though it's a light and friendly gesture, you can see the way she flinches slightly.

You raise an eyebrow when he looks your way and he just smiles innocently in return and makes his way back to his seat. You don't comment, not even when you notice that the staff's fingers are trembling so hard that it takes her a couple tries to connect you to the next call. You know that it's not her fault, she's just following instructions from the company after all, but you're not feeling very sympathetic at the moment.

Instead, you just try to focus and take on an upbeat persona in the hopes that nobody realises how upset you truly feel. You're hurt and a bit wary of what the fans might do next, but you don't want to take it out on the people who haven’t done anything to you yet.

Fortunately, the rest of the calls are rather uneventful and you leave the company feeling drained, but not as terrible as you had expected.

You spend the rest of the day thinking about what you could have done differently, how you could have handled the call more gracefully, what kind of answer you should give if something similar ever happens again. But no matter what, you just get stuck pitifully thinking to yourself that it's not fair, you shouldn't have to deal with these kinds of questions in the first case. You're sure the company will give you a briefing and some scripted lines tomorrow anyway, so it's probably for the best that you just try to pretend nothing happened at all.

That evening, you try your best to avoid social media, but you knew that some of the other boys had seen videos based on the stormy expression on Jeongin's usually smiley face when you got home and the way that Chan comes back from the gym with more bruises than usual from his boxing session with Minho and Changbin.

They never say anything, but they have been extra careful around you. Chan has brought home your favourite takeout without you asking and Jeongin jumps up to clean up the second that everyone has finished eating. After you decline to watch a drama with them, you can hear one of them pacing past your bedroom every few minutes, pausing right outside your door before continuing on.

You have just decided to muster up the courage to actually watch the recording of the video, it was embarrassingly easy to find one, when Seungmin video calls you. You immediately click away from where your own stupid looking shocked face is paused on screen to answer because you know Seungmin knows that you prefer to text unless it's an emergency.

“Hey,” you greet him warily. “What's up?”

“Felix is trying to kill me,” Seungmin complains.

“What now?”

“Just look!”

Seungmin changes to his back camera to reveal their kitchen, which is littered with baking supplies and seems almost hazy for some reason.

“Is that smoke?” you ask, sitting up in bed.

“I said not to film!” Felix's voice comes from somewhere outside of the frame. Seungmin pans over dizzyingly fast to show where he's crouched in front of the oven, streaks of flour smudged on his clothes and in his hair.

“I'm not filming,” Seungmin comments, unbothered by the fact that Felix is pulling out a pan of what looks like they should be cookies but look alarmingly similar to lumps of coal. “I'm on a call. Show Y/nnie what you made,” he prompts.

“What?? Noooo,” Felix whines. “Y/n don't look!”

“What are those supposed to be?” you laugh.

“I wanted to make something to cheer you up,” Felix says miserably. Seungmin cackles, moving the camera closer so that you first get a close-up of Felix's face, then a better look at the burnt baking sheet. You keel over, stomach starting to hurt from how hard you're laughing. “I was trying to clean up while they baked and didn't hear the timer go off.”

“Well I appreciate the thought,” you say, when you can finally catch a breath. “And you definitely succeeded in making me feel better. Didn't the fire alarm go off?”

“We just got it to stop,” Seungmin says, switching the camera so that you can see his face again. “It's freezing in here now, we had to open all the windows to air out the place.”

“You poor things,” you coo, leaning back onto your bed now that you aren't concerned that they're in immediate danger. “Do you want to come over to our place?”

“I want to, but someone has to make sure that sunshine over here doesn't burn anything else.” Seungmin rolls his eyes, making you laugh again. You hear Felix yell something in the background. “I just wanted a witness in case I don't make it to our schedule tomorrow. I think I gotta go.”

“Yeah, I think you'll be busy cleaning up the rest of the night. See you tomorrow!”

You end the call, plunging your room back into darkness. You lie on your bed for a few moments before unlocking your phone again.

Even though you knew that it wasn't wise, like clockwork you found yourself scrolling through social media after every comeback. It used to be worse, when you had been living alone and would spend countless hours curled up on your tiny bed, face only illuminated by your phone. 

The rest of the members all know that you had private social media accounts, they all had them too even though you technically weren't allowed to. What they didn't know was how many nights you had wasted away, watching funny compilations, reaction videos, and analysis of performances. Sometimes, it even felt like you were subconsciously searching for the negative comments, wanting to understand better the mindset of the haters.

It was an old, but bad habit, so you had tried your best to stop once you moved in with Chan and Jeongin. But tonight you just couldn't sleep. After wandering into the kitchen to get yourself a glass of water, you end up getting distracted by your Youtube recommendations.

You don't know what kind of strings the company pulled, but by some miracle, there's no clips of your disastrous fan call circulating any more, although there were still a lot of people talking about it.

There had been mixed comments. Some of the clips had excluded the terrible questions and people commented on how bad your media training must have been, but a majority of people were furious on your behalf and complained about how out of bounds the comment had been. 

You should be relieved that the videos have been taken down and you are to a certain extent, but just a couple days ago the dance practice that haunted you had been posted. Just one more thing to worry about. As you feared, while a majority of the comments were nice, there's already people picking apart your performance, comparing you to the boys. 

You click from one comment to another, then move onto fan made videos, inevitably falling down a rabbit hole of the many edits that exist where you had been cropped out or digitally removed. It was almost mesmerizing, watching videos of how well the group worked without you, how natural it looked to see what it would have looked like if it was just the eight of them. Some nights, you could almost forget that the edits were exactly that, edits and not the reality.

“Hey,” Chan interrupts. He is obviously trying his best not to scare you, but you were startled anyway, dropping your phone on the counter. “What are you up to so late?”

“It's nothing,” you said quickly, fumbling to lock your phone so that he can’t see the video that’s playing, but Chan had scooped it up before you had the chance to pick it back up.

“What's this-” You could see the moment that he pieced things together, the way that even in the dim lighting you could tell how his brow had furrowed and his hand had tightened around your phone. “How come you're not in these videos?”

“Hm?”

“You were definitely in this performance,” Chan says, studying the paused screen. “You're supposed to be… They removed you.” He finally realises with horror. “Why are you watching garbage like this?”

“I just want to know what Stay are thinking.” You shrug. “I saw this video and couldn't help but watch. It’s not a big deal, I was just curious.”

“They're not Stay if they're not supporting the whole group!” Chan startles you with the sharpness of his voice. He catches sight of your wide eyes and softens his tone. “Sorry, I just hate akgaes and seeing these kind of posts.”

“Oh come on,” you say. “You're telling me that you've never thought about what the group would be like if you weren't being dragged down by me?”

“Dragged down- Y/n-”

“Don't lie to me, oppa. I know you've seen what people are saying about the group, about me. Have you seen some of these edits? Stray Kids looks good as eight,” you admit.

“I’m not lying! None of us would want to be making music or performing without you,” Chan insists.

“You don't have to say that just to not make me feel bad.” You shake your head.

“We’ve been together from the start, why would I have chosen you to be a part of Stray Kids if I didn't actually want you to be on the team?” Chan asks, sounding frustrated, but also genuinely curious.

“Because the company added me to the team at the last minute?” you say, as if it's obvious. Because to you, and basically everybody else, it is. “I know I wasn't part of the group that you picked. It's okay-”

“What are you talking about? You know that I chose you too, right?” he asks slowly. 

“But the company-”

“They couldn’t have just added you to the group without our say.”

“No, I know that you guys agreed it to, but-”

“Y/n-ah, we didn't just agree to it. They told me they wanted us to consider adding a female member to Stray Kids. We thought about it and said yes. I was the one who wanted that member to be you.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. 

“What?”

“Why are you so surprised? I saw your evaluations, you were one of trainees strongest in dance, probably the only one that could keep up with us, your singing has always been stable, and I know that based on your personality and work ethic, you would get along well with the rest of us. It was the obvious choice.”

“Oh.” Is all you can say, mind racing.

“You really thought the company just added your name onto the roster and we went along with it?”

“I don't know, I guess so?” you say sheepishly. “I was just so grateful to debut, it didn't matter at the time. It felt so out of the blue.”

“You know that one of the reasons that JYP didn't have you on that many of the girl group line-ups was because he was considering making you a solo artist, right?”

“Huh? There's no way,” you immediately deny. “Nobody ever mentioned that-”

“He told me when I brought up your name to add to the group. I guess they never wanted to get your hopes up.”

“I thought they were going to drop me soon,” you admit, scratching at the back of your neck. “I uh, I thought maybe I would do at most one more year of training and then move back in with my family. I had even started filling out university applications to keep my options open.”

“Y/n, you were consistently having amazing evaluations, you were being praised so much by everyone. Why would you doubt yourself?”

“Three years as a trainee and nothing to show for it. You know what it was like, how hard it was to see people come and go. It didn't matter how great my evaluations were if I never got to debut.”

“But-”

“Don't tell me that you never thought about quitting. Oppa, I thought that you of all people would understand what it was like.” You hate the way that your voice cracks.

“I thought about it all the time,” Chan says. “Sorry, I didn't mean it like that.”

“It's fine,” you mumble.

“Y/n-ah,” Chan asks tentatively, like he's afraid to learn the answer. “All these years that we've been together, did you really think we didn't want you?”

“Yes? Well, not really. I didn't think you guys disliked having me in the group per se, I just always thought that maybe you would like it more if I wasn't? And I guess it didn't help that there are a lot of people who thought the same way.”

“I'm sorry we didn't reassure you more.” Chan runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “How did we not see that you felt this way?”

“Because I didn't want you to? It's not like it was your fault anyway, I was just overthinking.”

“You know we're going to have to make it up to you, right?” Chan says, looking a little mischievous. 

“Oh please no,” you say, backing away nervously thinking of how much coddling and smothering you're about to endure. You're pretty sure you're already one of the members that's doted on the most. “Things are good as they are.”

“Nope, I refuse.” Chan approaches you, reaching out and catching your wrist so that you can't get away. “We're going to give you so much love that you're not going to doubt yourself ever again.”

“No!” you squeal, trying to tug away from his grip. “I already-” 

The rest of your sentence gets cut off as Chan pulls you into an embrace and your face gets smashed against his shoulder. He squeezes you tightly and contrary to your words, you just relax into his hold.

“What are you guys doing? You're being so loud.”

Both you and Chan freeze, then turn to stare as Jeongin shuffles into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes with his hair all mussed up. You turn back to Chan for a second before he replies.

“Just having a bit of a heart to heart, Innie. Come here, join us,” he invites.

“Ugh, why would I want to hug either of you?” Jeongin complains, wrinkling his nose before immediately walking over and enveloping both of you in his arms.

Even though you know you're going to have to leave for a schedule in a matter of hours, with both Chan and Jeongin's arms wrapped tight around you, you feel lighter than you have in months. You feel secure, at ease, and finally, like you've found a home in these boys.

where the heart is collection | read it on ao3 | masterlist

[coolemmasulivan2]

My Champion

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x Reader

Summary: A kiss on TV, after Barça’s victory!

Word count: 1335

Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly, beside the green, green grass Swing, swing, swing the spinning step You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress

The final whistle blew, and you couldn’t help but jump out of your seat. Barça had just won the Supercopa de España against Real Madrid. The stadium in Jeddah erupted in cheers, and your heart felt like it might burst with pride.

This wasn’t just any match for you. It was the first one you attended as Pedri’s girlfriend. You couldn’t stop smiling as you watched him on the pitch, celebrating with his team. He had played so well, and all you wanted to do was run onto the field and tell him how proud you were.

But that was out of the question. You were here for work, not as Pedri’s girlfriend. As a journalist, it wouldn’t be very professional to run onto the pitch, no matter how much you wanted to.

Still, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He looked so happy, holding the trophy and grinning with his teammates. You held onto your press badge, reminding yourself to stay focused. Even though you couldn’t celebrate with him right now, you knew you’d get your moment later.

"So, you’re going to interview Raphinha and then maybe Balde, okay?" Your coworker’s voice crackled through the earpiece.

You nodded, even though they couldn’t see you. "Yes. Okay!" You replied, keeping your voice steady.

Everything was set. The mic was firm in your grip, and the camera stood ready in front of you and the buzz of the stadium hummed in the background.

Raphinha stepped forward, his jersey still damp from the match, a wide grin stretched across his face. You held the mic steady and met his gaze with a professional smile.

"¡Raphinha, felicidades por la victoria! How does it feel to take home the Supercopa after such a thrilling match?" (Raphinha, congratulations on the win!)

He laughed, his excitement almost tangible. "It feels incredible! We knew it would be tough, but the team gave everything, and moments like this make it all worth it."

As he spoke, you nodded, keeping your attention on him, but you couldn’t ignore the pull of your peripheral vision. Pedri was standing a few meters away, surrounded by teammates, but you could feel his gaze drifting toward you. Each time you glanced his way—brief, fleeting—he was already looking.

But you stayed composed, your focus fixed on Raphinha. "You mentioned how tough the match was. What do you think made the difference tonight?"

"The second goal, for sure. The penalty!" He said. "After that, it just gave us the energy that we needed. The fans were incredible too. They gave us so much support."

"It was a great performance." You replied with a smile. "Congratulations again!”

"Gracias!" Raphinha said, flashing another grin before heading back toward the group.

As he walked off, Alejandro Balde approached, his wide grin practically mirrored the gleam of the Supercopa trophy behind him. You greeted him with the same warm, professional tone you’d used all night, lifting the mic slightly.

"Alejandro, congratulations on the big win! What does it mean to you to lift this trophy with the team tonight?"

He chuckled, his excitement contagious. "Honestamente, es irreal. I’ve dreamed about moments like this since I was a kid... I’m just so grateful to be part of this team." (Honestly, it’s unreal.)

You nodded, smiling as you prepared your next question, but before you could get the words out, you heard quick footsteps behind you.

"Perdón!" A familiar voice interrupted, and before you could turn fully, Pedri was there, standing between you and Balde. "Un segundo, hermano." Pedri said, glancing apologetically at Balde, who looked surprised but amused, trying not to laugh. (One second, hermano.)

You barely had time to process what was happening before Pedri cupped your face with both hands and kissed you. Right there, in front of the camera, the crowd, and the entire world watching at home.

Gasps rippled through the nearby press and staff, followed by cheers and whistles from his teammates in the background and from the public. For a second, your mind blanked, caught somewhere between shock and the warmth of his lips on yours.

When he pulled back, his eyes locked with yours, his expression soft and unbothered by the scene he’d just caused. "Lo siento, guapa." He said with a small, unapologetic smile. "I couldn’t help it." He said casually, jogging back toward his teammates, who greeted him with cheers and teasing shouts.

Your face burned as you looked back at Balde, who was clearly enjoying every second of the chaos. "Should I still answer, or do we need to cut?" He teased, barely containing his laughter.

Taking a steadying breath, you lifted the mic again, forcing yourself to stay professional. "I--wh--Let’s try that again." You said as the camera was still rolling.

The buzz of the post-match chaos had finally started to die down. Interviews were done, the cameras were off, and the crew was packing up. The Supercopa celebrations, however, were still in full swing on the pitch as players laughed and posed for photos with their families.

You stepped onto the field, the grass soft under your shoes, and scanned the crowd. It didn’t take long to spot him. Pedri was chatting animatedly with his family, his smile was wide and his hair still damp.

As you approached, you couldn’t help but smile. His mom noticed you first, her face lighting up as she waved. "There you are!" She called warmly, as if she’d been waiting for you.

Pedri turned at her voice, his eyes finding yours immediately. His grin softened into something sweeter, and he looked at you like you were the only person on the pitch.

When you reached him, you playfully swatted his arm. "¿De verdad, Pedri?" (Really, Pedri?)

"¿Qué?" He asked, his voice innocent but his expression anything but. (What?)

"You know what!" You shot back, crossing your arms. "What was that back there? You kissed me on national TV! During an interview!"

His family chuckled nearby, clearly amused by the exchange, but Pedri just shrugged, his smile turning sheepish. "I couldn’t help it." He said simply, his voice so soft and genuine that it made your heart skip.

"Couldn’t help it?"

He nodded, stepping a little closer, his free hand brushing yours. "You looked so focused, doing your job... and you were amazing, by the way." His smile grew a little shy as he added: "I don’t know--I just had to."

Before you could retort, his mom spoke up. "Come on, you two, picture time!" She held up her phone, gesturing for both of you to join the family.

"Oh, no, no way." You said, stepping back. "I’ve already had enough attention tonight."

But Pedri reached for your hand, gently tugging you forward. "Come on. They want you in the photo."

"Listen to him!" his mom chimed in, smiling warmly at you. "Eres parte de la familia." (You’re part of the family.)

That made your heart swell, and you couldn’t argue with her sincerity. With a quiet laugh, you let Pedri pull you closer. His mom positioned everyone, and his brother cracked a joke, making you all laugh as the first photo was taken.

Then, just as his mom was about to snap another, Pedri leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. You froze, your face warming as the camera clicked, but when you turned to him, he was already grinning.

"Pedri!" You whispered, trying to sound scandalized but unable to hide the laughter in your voice.

"What?" He teased, slipping an arm around your waist. "I’m just making it memorable."

His mom laughed, shaking her head fondly as she looked at the photo. "Perfect." She said, holding up the phone. "This one’s going in a frame."

You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest didn’t fade. Pedri looked at you and squeezed your hand lightly. "¡Te quiero!" He murmured. (I love you!)

And in that moment, surrounded by his family and his quiet confidence, you believed him. "I love you too."

[jenosonlywife23]

Under the Influence (of You)

an; I miss jaehyun so much, and i remembered when youngji invited him to not much prepared. This drabble is inspired by that episode.

You had done the impossible before—held in laughter during live broadcasts, kept a straight face when a friend was clowning you in a group chat mid-interview, even successfully lied to your mom about where you were at 2 a.m. in high school. But this? This was an entirely different level of deception.

Jaehyun, your boyfriend of three years, fresh out of the military and glowing like he hadn’t just spent nearly two years in barracks, had an album out. The fans wanted him everywhere, and your show? They wanted him there the most. Comments flooded every post, every episode. Jaehyun on the show when??? He’s been on everything but this, what’s going on?! If you don’t invite him, I swear—

The problem? Nobody knew you were dating him. Not the fans, not the staff, not even your closest coworkers. Inviting Jaehyun to your show, a show infamous for getting idols tipsy and making them spill their deepest secrets, was like walking straight into a burning building with a bottle of soju in each hand.

So you did what any sane person would do. You stalled. "He’s busy with promo! He has schedules! Let’s give him time to adjust!" But the pressure didn’t let up, and when your producer started hinting at how great the ratings would be, you knew you were doomed.

"Just do it," Jaehyun had said when you finally caved and called him. "It’ll be fine. We’re professionals."

Professionals.

You nearly laughed in his face.

Instead, you called in reinforcements.

"So you’re finally breaking," Karina mused over the phone, amused. "You held out longer than I thought."

"I need strategies," you groaned, pacing your apartment. "What do I do? How do I not make it obvious? We have couple mannerisms, Karina. Mannerisms."

"First of all, don’t call them ‘couple mannerisms,’ that’s weird," she snorted. "Second, don’t look at him like he hung the stars in the sky."

"That’s just my face."

"Fix it."

Your next call was to Mark, because if anyone had experience being in a constant state of panic, it was him.

"Bro, if you slip up on that show, it’s over," he said seriously. "Like, game over. The fans will clip it, dissect it, and within ten minutes, they’ll have a thread with timestamps proving you’re soulmates."

"You’re so helpful, Mark."

"I mean, I could help you make a fake scandal to cover it up. Maybe you and Johnny should have an inside joke or something to throw them off?"

"You want me to make a fake ship to distract from my real relationship?"

"I’m just saying, it worked for me once."

You hung up on him.

In the end, after way too much deliberation, you agreed to invite Jaehyun on the show. The plan was simple—treat him like any other guest. No lingering touches, no secret glances, no laughing at jokes that weren’t actually funny just because he was the one saying them. It sounded easy enough.

But when the day arrived, and he walked onto the set with that lazy smirk, eyes locked on you like he knew exactly what he was doing, you realized something very, very important.

You were so screwed.

—

The cameras were rolling. The staff was excited. The fans were waiting.

And Jaehyun was already making your life difficult.

"Wow," he said as he sat down across from you, stretching like he had all the time in the world. "I finally made it."

"Oh, don’t act like I’ve been keeping you away," you shot back, keeping your tone playful. "You’ve been busy. And I—" you lifted the soju bottle pointedly "—value my job."

Laughter erupted from the staff. Good. Keep it light. Keep it normal.

Jaehyun chuckled, reaching for the glass you poured for him. "I feel like I should be nervous."

You smirked. "You should be."

The first few drinks went smoothly. You asked about his album, his time in the military, his adjustment back into idol life. He answered smoothly, charming as ever, throwing in a few anecdotes that had everyone in stitches. You were doing fine. Everything was under control.

Until the alcohol started kicking in.

Jaehyun’s gaze lingered a little too long when you refilled his glass. Your fingers brushed when you handed it to him. And then—

"You know," he mused, leaning back, "I thought you’d be meaner to me."

Your brain short-circuited. "Excuse me?"

"Like, I don’t know." He swirled his drink, a teasing glint in his eyes. "You usually like to bully your guests. I was expecting some tough love."

Oh, he was playing dangerous games. "Are you disappointed?"

"Not at all," he said smoothly. "It’s nice."

Too nice. Too obvious.

You kicked him under the table. His smirk widened.

Johnny, who had been invited as a surprise guest, arrived just in time to witness the moment and immediately looked into the camera like he was on The Office.

The fans were going to have a field day.

—

Things only got worse from there.

"So, Jaehyun," you said, steering the conversation back to neutral ground. "You had quite the career before enlisting. Was there anything you missed the most while you were away?"

Jaehyun hummed, tapping his fingers against his glass. "A few things, yeah."

"Care to share?"

He tilted his head slightly, eyes locked on yours. "I think I already have."

Your breath caught. No. No, no, no.

Johnny, the traitor, took a sip of his drink and muttered, "Wow, this is getting good."

You shot him a warning look before turning back to Jaehyun with a tight smile. "How about food? Was there a particular meal you missed?"

Jaehyun chuckled, clearly enjoying this. "There was this one dish I really missed. Someone used to make it for me all the time."

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The staff cooed. The fans were going to tear apart every single frame of this episode.

Desperate, you downed a shot and forced a laugh. "That’s sweet. Hopefully, you get to eat it again soon."

Jaehyun’s grin widened. "I think I will."

Johnny let out a full-bodied laugh and gave the camera another knowing look.

You were done for.

—

As soon as the shoot wrapped, you grabbed Jaehyun’s wrist and dragged him into your dressing room, shutting the door behind you.

"Are you insane?" you hissed, crossing your arms. "Do you want us to get caught?"

Jaehyun just grinned. "What, you didn’t like my answers?"

You groaned, throwing your head back. "You were this close to confessing on national television."

He stepped closer, hands gently resting on your waist. "But I didn’t."

You wanted to stay mad, but the warmth of his hands and the teasing glint in his eyes made it impossible. You sighed. "You’re impossible."

"And if you pull something like that again, you can forget about me cooking for you ever again." you muttered.

Jaehyun gasped dramatically. "You wouldn’t."

"Try me."

His pout was immediate. "You’re cruel."

[starkwlkr]

just a girl | f1

an: this is me asking for your letterboxd pls i need letterboxd mutuals 🤭 my account is deadpunks also made the reader have glasses because we need more glasses representation in fanfics 😔 (to the girlies that wear glasses, this is for you!!!)

Las Vegas Grand Prix Weekend

“What movie did I watch?” Y/n read the comment that a fan left on her instagram live. She adjusted her glasses and smiled. “I just finished ‘Drop Dead Gorgeous’ it’s so underrated. The cast is so iconic like you have Kirsten Dunst, Brittany Murphy, Denise Richards, Amy Adams and Allison Janney in one movie. It’s definitely in my top four.”

It was hours after qualifying and Y/n was exhausted, but all she wanted to do was finish watching her movie. Unfortunately for her, the movie she had just named wasn’t anywhere on streaming so she brought her portable dvd player and a stack of dvds. When Lando saw her watching a movie and crocheting a scarf for herself in her garage, he laughed at the scene. He actually found it adorable.

“What’s my letterboxd? Okay, listen. . . I don’t give it out to just anyone so this is between you lovely people and me, okay? My letterboxd is ilovecillianmurphy420 and please follow me, I am desperate,” Y/n laughed. She then took her phone and saw all the new follower notifications from letterboxd. “I’m going to ask the social media admin to ask everyone on the grid for their four favorites. Lando is definitely going to name animated movies. That or he’ll forget what a movie is and say nothing.”

What’s your four favorites?

“Whoever your asked for my four favorites, I’m blocking you. How dare you ask me that question . . . Paddington 1 and 2, Saw and Mamma Mia. I know I said drop dead gorgeous was in my top four, but I lie all the time.”

The next day, her letterboxd account had become the second most followed account.

INSTAGRAM

liked by oscarpiastri, letterboxd and others

yourusername just watched the masterpiece that is jackass number two

formulaupdating can i ask why you don’t post about f1 that often?

yourusername no you may not

oscarpiastri i was there too

yourusername ok

landonorris didn’t you watch that last week?

yourusername this is my own private domicile and i will not be harassed

landonorris ?

yourusername bitch

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After The Race / Interviews

Y/n hated being interviewed, it was the absolute worst thing on earth. No wait, forgetting her AirPods was the worst thing, but interviews were right behind that. She was exhausted and now she had to deal with reporters asking her what she thought about the championship battle.

Her fingers brushed the strap of her cap nervously as the interviewer’s voice cut through her anxiety.

“Y/n, P7 today—solid result. How are you feeling?" The reporter asked.

Y/n blinked, her eyes flicking around as she tried to process the question, and then her gaze landed on her own shoes. She cleared her throat awkwardly, looking up only to meet the camera for a brief, uncomfortable moment.

“Uh, yeah. It, uh . . . it was. . . good. I mean . . . yeah, I’m happy with it, I guess," she mumbled, her voice faltering.

The reporter smiled kindly, already used to the shy responses. “What do you think made the difference here in Vegas?" He waited patiently for Y/n’s answer.

Y/n’s lips parted as she prepared an answer, but the words tangled up in her brain. She shifted from foot to foot, adjusting her grip on the cap. Fuck, why can’t you think of anything?!, she thought to herself. “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . it’s just . . . uh, a little . . . weird, with all the lights and, you know, the . . . Strip, and, um . . .” Her voice trailed off.

The interviewer gave her a soft chuckle, understanding that Y/n’s awkwardness wasn’t lack of confidence, but rather a product of her introverted nature. Before the interview could go on, two figures appeared behind Y/n.

Oscar had cut in, Y/n’s pair of glasses in his hand. He placed a hand on her shoulder and handed the glasses to her while Lando ruffled her hair. She happily accepted them and placed them on her face.

“Alright, alright,” he said with a grin, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve tortured her enough, mate.”

Y/n let out a relieved sigh as she turned to Oscar, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “You’re doing great, really,” he said quietly, his tone meant to ease her nerves.

Lando then spoke up. “Are we done with the interrogation? She's literally about to disappear into her own head if we keep this up."

The reporter chuckled. “I was just asking Y/n about her performance today.”

Y/n hadn’t even noticed that she had completely abandoned the interview. She had started doodling on Oscar’s hand. The Aussie had given her the pen he had used from a fan when he was signing autographs. It was their thing. Whenever she would get nervous and Oscar was around, he would let her draw on his hand. Somehow the hand doodles calmed her.

“Right, Y/n?”

That’s when she picked up her head and noticed Lando was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”

“The race,” Lando reminded her. “She was brilliant out there. Absolutely nailed it.” Y/n didn’t have the words to argue. Instead, she ducked her head, feeling both embarrassed and grateful.

The three drivers said their goodbye to the reporter and walked away. Lando threw an arm over Y/n’s shoulder, grinning. “You know, for someone who hates interviews, you’ve got a hell of a lot to say . . . just not when it’s on camera.”

Y/n’s lips twitched into a small smile, and she felt a brief wave of gratitude for her friends’ protective camaraderie. She glanced at Oscar, who gave her a knowing nod, his usual quiet confidence offering her a sense of calm.

“You guys are unbelievable.” Y/n laughed lightly.

“Yeah well you’re the idiot who’s going to have to deal with us.” Lando replied.

“Unfortunately.” She teased.

“The idiot with the crocheting skills and silly little film reviews that are very popular on the box app.” Lando added.

“What?” Y/n stopped walking and stared at Lando. She looked over at Oscar for an answer, but the Aussie just shrugged his shoulders.

“I do believe our dear Y/n wants a hot priest?” Lando teased, bringing up Y/n’s lastest letterboxd review about Fleabag. “That’s a bit scandalous, don’t you think?”

“Hot priest?” Oscar couldn’t believe Lando had just said those two words together.

“You two don’t get it! Come on, we’re watching Fleabag!”

[vi-steponmeplease]

YOU'RE LOSING ME

pairings - overwhelmed!billie x caring!reader

genre - angst, fluff near the end

synopsis: billie returns from a week-long trip to korea, leading to an intense argument that threatens your relationship.

tw: slight emotional abuse, relationship conflict, reader and billie are in an established relationship, billie calls reader clingy

word count: 2.7K

and the air is thick with loss and indecision i know my pain is such an imposition

⟡

i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier

✩₊˚.⋆🕸️⋆⁺₊✧

As the first rays of sunlight stream through the curtains, you slowly open your eyes, your vision blurry for a few seconds as you gaze out the window. Extending your arm, you touch the empty spot on the sheets beside you—cold and untouched.

Your girlfriend Billie has been in Korea for what feels like forever, though it’s only been a week. Her long-awaited album just dropped, and she’s been consumed with interviews and appearances. She hasn’t been responding to your texts much, leaving you feeling lonely. Still, you remind yourself how hard she’s working and try not to let it bother you too much.

Pulling yourself out of bed, you shuffle to the bathroom, turning on the tap to run a warm bath. Back in your room, you grab the hoodie Billie gave you before she left. Her signature scent still lingers, drawing a small, bittersweet smile to your face as your chest tightens with longing. You slip it on over matching sweatpants, preparing for a strawberry-scented bath to shake off the ache of missing her.

Today’s the day Billie finally comes home. The thought brings a flicker of excitement, breaking through the gloom of the past week. You've been counting down the hours, longing for the moment you'd see her walk through the door, ready to wrap her in your arms. You’d planned everything—dinner, her favorite movie, and the kind of quiet, comforting night you know she loves.

You’ve spent the whole morning searching Instagram for recipes, carefully selecting her favorites. After your bath, you tie your hair up into a ponytail and get to work, letting the rhythmic hum of a Clairo playlist fill the air.

Two hours pass, and you’ve prepared mashed potatoes, a fresh salad, and a pot of pasta with vegan meatballs. The table is set, the living room prepared, and her favorite movie is paused on the TV.

At about 6 PM, the sound of keys jangling at the door makes your heart leap as you set two plates on the coffee table. You rush to greet her, a bright smile on your face as the door swings open. There she is—Billie, standing with her luggage in hand, looking as stunning as ever.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft but distant, her expression tired.

“Hi, baby,” you reply warmly. “I missed you.”

“Me too,” she says, forcing a small smile. But there’s no hug, no kiss, no affectionate greeting. Your stomach knots at the coldness in her demeanor.

“How was your trip?”

“Busy. Lots of interviews.” Her tone is flat, almost disinterested as she runs a hand through her black hair.

“I made you dinner,” you say, stepping aside to reveal the table you’d prepared. The sight of her favorite dishes and the movie queued up for the night should’ve brought a smile to her face, but instead, she sighs, rubbing her forehead.

“That’s great, baby, but I think I’ll pass.”

Your smile falters, but you quickly push aside the sting, which is instantly overpowered by your care. Checking on her is one of your priorities, and you know her well. You two have been together for a year and a half, so by now, you can immediately tell when something's wrong. “Are you okay? You seem... off.”

“I’m just tired,” Billie mutters, avoiding your gaze.

“Well, we can relax on the couch, eat something, watch the movie—”

“I wanna be alone, Y/N,” she interrupts sharply. Her tone cuts through you, the weight of her words hitting harder than you expect. “You’re going to want to cuddle and... I’m just not in the mood.”

“Oh.” The hurt threatens to spill over, but you swallow it down. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t do that,” she snaps, crossing her arms as her piercing gaze meets your confused expression. “Don’t guilt-trip me like this.”

“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you,” you reply softly. “I just—”

“Just drop it, okay?” she says firmly.

You hesitate, but something inside you refuses to let it go. “Okay, no. You don’t get to treat me like this after I’ve spent all day trying to make things nice for you. I know you’re tired, but that doesn’t mean you can push me away.”

“I didn’t ask you to do any of this,” Billie says, gesturing dismissively at the table. “You’re the one who went overboard.”

“Because I care about you,” you argue, stepping closer. “Because I wanted to make you feel better after a long week. All I wanted was to spend some time together, but apparently, that’s too much to ask.”

Billie’s eyes narrow. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” You throw your hands up in frustration. “You’ve barely answered my texts, you’ve been distant all week, and now you’re acting like I’m the problem for wanting to spend time with my girlfriend.”

You almost can't recognize the person in front of you. Is this why she'd been so cold lately? Usually, after long trips like this, she'd get extremely clingy, refusing to leave your side while repeatedly claiming how much she'd missed you and peppering your face with a billion kisses.

"I've been busy, Y/N. You can't expect me to be on my phone 24/7," she argues, a frustrated groan slipping out. "What, are you gonna strangle me for doing my job?"

"Billie," you resolutely call out as you cross your arms defensively. "When have I ever not been understanding to your circumstances? I know how hard you work, and I know your job means you gotta travel around the world. And I've always been okay with that."

She lets out a dry laugh, her tone dripping with exasperation. "So, why are you acting so goddamn needy right now?"

The word hits like a slap. She knows how much that word cuts you, how deeply it taps into your insecurities.

"Why are you being so unbearable right now?" you retort, matching the volume of her tone. Not yelling, but not calm either.

"Just stop it. You're making a big deal out of nothing—"

"No, I'm not. Stop trying to make me sound crazy."

You make your way to the kitchen and grab a glass cup from the dish rack, filling it up with cold water before taking a sip. Your throat had begun to to run dry since you haven't eaten or had anything to drink all day. "You could've been nicer about it. Why are you acting surprised and attacking me for wanting to spend time with you after a week apart?"

billie follows you and leans against the counter, feigning indifference as you stare at her from the other side of the kitchen, your eyes scorching with fury. "A week's not that long."

You scoff after setting the cup on the counter in front of you. "Yeah, says you who literally couldn't wait for me to come home after I slept over at my sister's house for two days."

"That's different." She rolls her eyes and prods her tongue against the inside of her cheek. The audacity leaves you speechless for a second before you regain your composure.

"What changed?" You shake your head in disbelief as you replay the memories of the sweet nothings she would whisper in your ear after being gone for so long. Whether she'd be gone on tour for a month, or if she'd just go visit her parents and Finneas for the weekend, she'd always return to you. "Why are you acting so weird?"

Billie lets out a pained sigh as she shuts her eyes tightly, hoping this moment would just disappear. This is the first time you've seen her show a single emotion other than apathy the whole time she's been back. "I think..." she trails off, not knowing how to correctly word the sentence on the tip of her tongue.

"You think what?" you ask, growing a little impatient as you watch her part her lips again.

"I can’t do this anymore,” she says, the words spilling out like venom. “I think we need a break.”

Your eyes widen and your jaw goes slack. "What the fuck?"

Rounding the corner of the counter, you gently reach out to hold her hands, but she withdraws herself and steps further away. The room seems to tilt as her words sink in. "Where the hell is this coming from?"

“I just... I can’t be in a relationship right now. It’s too much.”

Your voice breaks as tears blur your vision. “Billie, please. We can figure this out—”

“It’s not up to you,” she says, her tone colder than you’ve ever heard it.

“Don’t do this,” you plead. Never in a million years did you picture tonight ending this way, with you practically begging her to take you back.

She steps back, shaking her head, her emotionless blue orbs meet yours, damp and red. “I need space.”

"If you just listened when I told you to leave me alone earlier, this wouldn't be happening right now." Billie's voice rises, although she's never yelled at you before. Every time you two would argue, she'd still try her best to steer clear of doing or saying anything she might regret afterwards.

"Don't you fucking blame me," you yell back, your knuckles turning white as you tighten your grip on the edge of the counter. "I just wanted to spend the night with my girlfriend after being away from each other for so long. You're the one who—"

She lets out another humorless chuckle as she steps forward, leaning closer until your faces are mere inches apart. "Say one more fucking word and I'm never coming home again." She watches your furious expression falter as your eyebrows scrunch together, a crease forming in your forehead. You remain silent and that's when she pulls back. "That's what I fucking thought."

You lower your gaze as she moves out of your view, striding towards your shared bedroom. All you hear is the sound of her footsteps padding across the ceramic floor tiles and trailing further from where you helplessly stand, before you hear the door slam. The sound reverberates through the house, leaving you frozen in place.

Your reticence lingers for a few minutes, almost as if you're too afraid to utter a single word or she'd walk out on you. A quiet sob escapes your lips when your legs give out and you slump onto a stool, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally fall.

The food's cold. It's all you can think about.

The food you spent all of last night planning out, and most of today to make. It's cold. Untouched.

Her words from earlier hit you like cinder blocks. The weight of each sentence uttered makes your heart sink further into your chest as if it's been attached to an anchor.

Questions flood your mind, each one heavier than the last. What went wrong? Was it something you did? How long has she felt this way?

You sit there for hours, drowning in your thoughts, wondering if she’s lying awake like you are, or if she’s already moved on—emotionally gone from what once felt unbreakable.

This isn't something she'd ever normally do. Billie's the most gentle person, especially with you. She'd never do anything to hurt you.

Hues of red and orange begin to spill through the living room window, painting the walls with soft, warm light. You take a shaky breath, turning your head to the window. The sunrise is breathtakingly beautiful—an ironic contrast to the emotional storm you've just endured through one of the worst nights of your life.

You sniffle quietly, wiping away the lingering tears with the back of your hand, your lips trembling from the strain of holding back sobs.

In the bedroom, Billie sits on the edge of the bed, knees drawn to her chest as she stares blankly at the wall. The faint light of the bedside lamp reflects the glimmer of dried tears streaked across her cheeks. She hadn’t bothered to turn it off, too lost in her own thoughts. Her lips are pressed into a remorseful line, her usual confidence replaced with raw guilt. She knows she messed up—knows she acted ungrateful when all you wanted was her.

A heavy sigh escapes her as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, forcing herself to get up. Thirst claws at her throat, but so does the anxiety of facing you. Deep down, she half-expects you to be gone by now—out of the house and her life for good after everything she said. But as she shuffles into the living room, Billie’s breath catches when she sees you still there, perched on the same stool by the counter where she’d left you hours ago.

Her stomach twists as she takes in your figure: slouched shoulders, tired eyes, and the faint, broken sniffles that fill the otherwise silent space. Each sound cuts deeper into her chest. She hesitates for a moment, her hand twitching as she reaches out, wanting to comfort you, but unsure if she even deserves to. Slowly, she steps closer, finally giving in to the ache in her heart.

Tentatively, Billie wraps her arms around you from behind. You flinch slightly, startled by the touch, a quiet gasp escaping your lips. It's the last thing you expected.

“I’m so fucking sorry, baby. You have no idea,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. Her grip tightens as though afraid you might slip away. “I don’t know what got into me last night. I never should’ve yelled at you or called you needy. You just wanted to be with me, and I—I was awful. I’m sorry. There’s no excuse for what I did.”

Your chest heaves, struggling to regulate your breathing. You can’t bring yourself to speak, the lump in your throat too heavy. After a long beat of silence, Billie pulls back slightly, moving to face you. Gently, she tilts your chin up, her heart sinking when she sees the toll her words took on you���your puffy, tear-streaked face, trembling lips, and bloodshot eyes.

Her hands cup your cheeks, her thumbs brushing away the dampness. “I did this to you,” she says, her voice barely audible, as if scolding herself. “I made you cry.”

“Was I… too much?” you croak, your voice cracking. The question hangs in the air, fragile and weighted with insecurity. “Too clingy?”

Billie’s brows knit tightly, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No. Never. You’re never too much, love. I’m so sorry.” She rests her forehead against yours, her voice soft but firm. “I’ll never lash out at you like that again. I promise.”

“It’s seven,” you whisper hoarsely, your voice still trembling.

Her eyes widen slightly. “You spent all night here crying?”

You nod wordlessly, and she exhales shakily, guilt washing over her anew. Without hesitation, Billie takes your hands, guiding you off the stool. “Come on,” she murmurs gently, leading you back toward the bedroom. As the door shuts softly behind you, she repeats, “I’m so sorry.”

You chuckle faintly, the sound raw and tired. “You’ve said that a billion times.”

“And I’ll say it a trillion more if that’s what it takes,” she replies, her lips curving into a soft smile as she wraps her arms securely around your waist. Her tone grows tender. “I love you. You’re never, ever too much for me.”

The warmth of her words soothes your aching heart, though the memory of the night still lingers. “You said you wanted a break,” you remind her, your voice a fragile whisper.

“I don’t,” she says quickly, her gaze earnest. “I was overwhelmed and stressed with everything. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That’s on me.” Her fingers gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, her touch featherlight. “But I don’t want a break. I want you. I'm sor—"

You shake your head, letting out a fragile laugh. “If you apologize again, I swear—”

Billie cuts you off with a soft, passionate kiss, pouring every ounce of regret and love into the moment. Your hands instinctively move to her shoulders, pulling her closer, grounding yourself in her warmth.

When she finally pulls away, she rests her forehead against yours, her blue eyes shining with affection and sincerity. “Let’s get some sleep, baby,” she whispers, her voice like a balm to your soul.

And for the first time that night, you feel the weight on your chest begin to lift.

[zombiegirl07]

I'm fed up of constantly being called 'homophobic' just because I understand Jake is gay. Yes, I don't know this for certain, he could very well be bi or pan, but from what I have seen from his behaviour and his instagram, I honestly don't think he's romantically interested in women. I have to keep repeatedly saying this but my own cousin has written 'What it feels like for a girl'. He is my second cousin, but I'm very proud of him. My first cousin A (gay) I grew up with my whole life and he tells me Jake is gay. I said to him, A take a look at this insta profile, would you? Is this man gay? Two seconds later. Yes, babes. No question.

My second cousin who wrote 'What it feels like for a girl' cannot tell me in so many words about Jake, as he's under an NDA and I'd never put him in that position. But the interviews are coming. It's all imminent. The show is released during pride month. I keep saying this, but Jakola's please be prepared for this inevitable outcome.

If you notice, the gay community and most of Nicola's friends are absolutely silent on this. No support. Not a dickie bird. It's literal crickets. Why is that? If you want me to accept Luke and Nic are just friends, why can't you accept Jake and Nic are just friends? Women can have male friends you know. Why does it always have to be romantic?

The video I made on tik tok that got me blocked by Nicola. It had 25k views. I didn't actually say anything on that video. Nothing. All I did was share the photos we had of Jake looking at that guy and put Marvin Gaye over the top of it. It wasn't even a video. It was three photos. If Nicola didn't like it, it was because it was telegraphing a truth she doesn't want the world to know. I still love and support Nicola and I have no hard feelings. Tik tok is irrelevant to me. She doesn't know the real me.

I really resent being called homophobic for the amount of gay and lesbian friends and family I have. But I will not stop speaking the truth, no matter how many people bash me and put ridiculous curses on me.

Time is ticking.

[frostedsugarcookiehearts]

² it's a friday, (i'm in love)

୨ৎ

as chappell roan said, "your favorite artists' favorite artist"— but for you, it was more like your celebrity crushes celebrity crush!

you'd been on youtube for a long time now, flying under the radar of the algorithm for a good while. there were pluses and minuses to this arrangement, of course— you didn't live in a multi-billion-jillion dollar mansion, but also, your fanbase was small and dedicated, and you still lit up every time when you saw a fan edit or fan art.

out of sheer luck, a friend of a friend of a friend of a... well, you get the jist, but you knew ted through mutual friends. you'd met at a party once, and you geeked out upon meeting him, chatting his ear off. he had more subscribers than people you've ever met! by a million.

clearly, you had left some kind of impression on little ol' ted, because he invited you onto chuckle sandwich (rip), and right on the dot you were squished in the booth, trying to prepare for the inevitable being-squeezed-between-two-over-six-feet-men, wide eyed and a little nervous as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the hundredth time.

then you felt the booth dip beside you, and you whip your head around (then up) to see a huge brick wall of a man. "you must be schlatt! it's nice to meet you!" you chirp, offering out a hand.

maybe you weren't the best at first impressions, because schlatt took one look at you— and maybe he was feeling under the weather... or something?— he turned bright red and ran out. like, quite literally got up out of the booth, and ran, muttering about going to the bathroom.

you and ted ended up chatting politely about how you got into streaming, what your favorite thing to stream is— the kind of questions anyone who had a podcast would ask. but then you felt the familiar dip in the booth, you turned around again to face the big man again. gracious and charming, he blurted—

"so... woman. got uh," he cleared his voice. "got a boyfriend?"

it takes a second for that question to load in your brain, and then you blink. realizing you're on a podcast and not an awkward first date— (could've fooled you)— you try to come up with a charming response of, "the only man in my life is the twitch grind, schlatt," and offer him a grin.

the mic picks up the grumble under schlatt's breath; "there room for one more?"

ted snickers, but attempts to save you from an awkward situation by steering the interview back to questions they have for you. schlatt gets a little less awkward after his whole "unlimited games or unlimited bacon" spiel, but he goes right back to his antics after he leans in a little closer and chirps,

"wanna play a game that we always play with the podcast guests?"

looking around suspiciously, ted raises a brow, because there is definitely not a 'game' or whatever the hell schlatt's spouting right now. "schlatt, what the fuck are you—"

"it's, uh, you basically turn the digits of your phone number into a number and tell me how much money you'd have." schlatt stutters out, offering a dorky smile to you.

you blink. "one? i only have one phone number. i'm not richie rich like you!— i watched that one video of yours when you went to that hotel room that was so much money, it made my head spin."

"ah, that's nothin', toots. i can take ya sometime." he winks at you, and for some reason, your heart flutters. "like uh, a part two."

ted, always the instigator; "would you two sleep in the same be—"

"al—right!" schlatt claps loudly. "let's move on."

the interview ran smoothly enough, but it was nothing compared to the comments. they exploded about the chemistry between you two, the banter, and schlatt's pathetic attempt at flirting. it made all the fans go insane, it was clipped a hundred times over and posted everywhere.

and then the pièce de résistance? an offhand comment schlatt made on stream, joking that if people started donating a thousand dollars, he'd ask you out on a video game date.

boy, did the fans deliver for you two! they insisted that schlatt raid your stream, which he did, peppering comments like "what's your favorite flower" or "how are you doing today beautiful?" fans of yours even left sneaky little comments in schlatt's chat about what kind of things you liked, and a few clips of you talking about your type in men and your ideal dates were sent directly into schlatt's dms. and he watched them. analyzed them, actually. if he put this much energy into homework back in school, he'd be on track to get his masters right now!

after doing his research, he felt ready to ask.

↓

jschlatt donated $1,500!

↳ hey toots. you free @ 7pm EST?

and that sealed the deal. like clockwork, at 7pm EST, you actually got dressed up all nice, did your hair and put on a nice dress, sat down at your gaming chair and booted up discord, hovering over the call button under schlatt's tag. but he called you first, and you twirled your hair one more time before answering.

"hi," you smiled, a dumb cheshire cat grin on your face. fortunately, schlatt's was even bigger.

in the background, you made a few clicks and booted up your stream as he did his. "so where do you want to go, on our date?"

"this is a date?" you quirk a brow, smirking, and schlatt turns just as red as the first time he met you.

he stammers, "well, like, in the sense of the word, y'know. date. hangout. uh, shindig. whatever the hell you want it to be. ma'am."

schlatt turned on the facecam to show he was wearing a black turtleneck, and you turned on yours to show off your outfit. "i'm not your mom, you don't have to call me ma'am." you giggled, wiping off the bit of lipstick on the corner of your lip.

he grumbled something under his breath, his chat clearly hearing something you didn't as he comically widened his eyes, looking around the room as chat exploded.

but besides that little blip, it all went great! always the gentleman, schlatt booted up his pc to minecraft, but you shook your head and insisted on playing stardew valley instead. the two of you started on a farm together where schlatt had put your beds suspiciously close to each other and jokingly started trying to fight the townspeople— specifically sam— for 'getting all over you'. he was even about to fight robin for 'hitting on you', since he quipped, "equal rights, equal fights. and i support women liking women. but not if they're trying to steal ya from me, alright?" and promptly tried to hit her in game with an axe. lovely!

you ended up laughing so hard you felt like you had a six-pack. schlatt was genuinely a good time, and when the two of you met shane in-game, it was whirlwind. you compared him to schlatt, and he vehemently denied it. "maybe i should get married to shane," you quip, and schlatt scoffs. "what? he's like, the walmart— jojamart— version of me! you could get the real deal, right here!" he practically whined, rolling his eyes petulantly.

after hours of laughing and cracking jokes, running around pelican town and flirting, you two decided to end stream. he hummed a soft, "we should do this again sometime."

"oh, we will." you grin. "my dms are open."

he smiled, looking straight into the screen— it felt more like right into your soul, though. "good to know."

୨ৎ

dividers credit: @omi-resources

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐀𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐀𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐲

cw : MDNI - S2 Armand, journalist male reader, top male reader, switch Armand, sub Daniel, dirty thoughts, mentions of sexual interactions, nsfw, Louis is definitely third wheeling, sexual tension, fake rashid reveal, mind fucking, teasing, this is my old man yaoi, somnophila, Armand gets the old man pass, they eye fucked eachother so much, i needed a taste of these two sorry, when no one can do the work, you gotta do it yourself, power play, stalking, Armand is a creepy little cat, Daniels the confused German shepherd, my drabbles become so thought out why, consume at your own risk, not proof read.

You knew it.

You fucking knew it the whole damn time.

At first it was just a guess, just a joking remark made as you worked with Molloy with Louis interview. You didn't believe him when he spoke of vampires, but seeing truly is believing, and Rashid was the oddest guy you'd met. That sweet smile, those longing looks towards Louis, the way he almost seemed to be acting—

Oh but you found that out really fucking fast.

Spoiler alert, you can see the plot twist from a mile away.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Jesus Christ, it was about damn time! How obvious do you have to be before someone finally outed you as a vampire?"

Daniel turned to you in a somewhat shocked fashion, though he was mostly squinting towards you for some sort of half assed explanation you were going to give him, but Louis put his expression into words. "You...You knew?"

"Yeah, but to be honest, he wasn't exactly doing the best job at hiding it. I mean, even if he was trying to, it was a little too on the nose at the beginning. Also, not saying Rashid is a bad name, but you definitely don't look like a Rashid." You then happened to gesture to Armand who was now standing side by side with Louis. You knew you'd promised Molloy that you would tone it down, that you would stay tamer than normal for the sake of getting out of Dubai in one piece after everything was said and done, but now there were two vampires rather than the one. "Not to mention how obvious you are."

"Pray tell, how obvious was I?" Armand asked. So far he'd spectated and predicted you were just as childish as Daniel when he was younger. With eccentric thoughts and an active imagination. That you were simply in over your head.

Oh how wrong he was.

"Well, for starters...it never seemed like you were similar to the other servants? I don't think I dare even saw you wear a mask before, whether that be to simply hide faces or to prevent anything from spreading, I found that odd." You chimed. "Not only that but we've seen Louis drink from you, and yet someone as...lanky, someone who looked like a stick ready to break — no offense — but you walked away like it was nothing, while a Russian biscuit the size of a bulk barely stood for two seconds before falling out.."

Only then did you gesture to the other room compared to the one you were currently in. "Not to mention, when we caught you praying the other day, you prayed in the darkest side of the room. Even if you did walk past the light, it was briefly or almost unseeable. And God, from the way every time I turned to you and watched you practically eye-fucking Molloy, I wouldn't have been shocked to know that you'd met him before."

Armand's expression was unreadable, almost repressing his feelings. Especially after the last observation you'd made. He stood next to Louis who squinted in a questionable fashion while looking at you, and Daniel? He didn't expect you to suddenly come out like that, and so boldly, though that was simply your personality.

"Now, if you three don't mind, I think I'll go to bed early. After this whole fucking soap opera of a reveal, I have to probably prepare myself to take in whenever you came into Louis life and what the hell happened then." You dismissed yourself, not back towards Daniel as you made your way out. That stare Armand had given you that entire time was unnerving, but there was something behind it.

You then called out as you proceeded to make your way to your room. "And I hope that there's an actual Rashid! Or I will be very disappointed!"

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

God when was the last time you and Daniel had a good fuck.

Before the trip to Dubai, the two of you had different lives, and as much as you loved smothering the older man, you had a job as well. It was unfortunate that you two couldn't have your fun till after the trip was over, but at least Daniel noticed how irritable you'd started to get. After all, you'd been stressed before the trip and didn't expect things to take this long.

You groaned out as your hips slowly rocked into the others, his warm body against your own and lips kissing feverishly against his skin. You knew that he was trying his best to sleep, but you couldn't help yourself.

Not as if he minded, he's the one who agreed the two of you could atleast sleep like this.

"Fuck Danny, baby..." You rutted your hips up accidentally, causing him to groan out and nudge you as red took over his face, cheeks, even spreading to his ears.

"Calm down, I have to sleep for later so we can continue the interview.." He could feel your arms practically caging him, holding against the plushness against part of his stomach. Daniel could barely think with how tired he was, and you? You were full of energy at the moment, sleepy, but still energized.

"But you're so tight Daniel...so fucking...oh—" You slowly grinded yourself against him once again before finally giving in as he wrapped a hand back to run though your hair. "Needed this, bad. Felt like I was having withdrawals."

"From sex?"

"From you," you admitted. "And this tight ass..."

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

The next afternoon, you and Daniel went to the small cafe to fill up before the interview, though he'd been chewing you out about your past behavior. How he knew you were always a stickler for believing in superstition, but to understand that these vampires were nothing to fuck around with.

You could have refuted that with the amount of evidence you had that those fanged people were hornier than a dog humping a pillow.

You joked about it, as if it was your second nature, but Molloy seemed more stressed out than normal.

"You're gonna get yourself killed in there, you know what they are, why are you pushing things so far?" He sounded annoyed at that point, watching as you rolled your eyes and tried to dismiss his emotions towards the situation.

"Jesus Molloy, you act like the world is gonna end."

"Maybe not, but you have no idea who these guys are. You don't understand how dangerous they can be. How dangerous they are." He urged on.

You laughed and continued eating the raw fish that was on your plate. "Sure," you drew out.

It was then that he stared at you. Molloy stared at you with that look, the look you knew all too well. He continued staring you down before you sighed and gave in. "Fine! Damn it, I'll be good! I'll tone it down! I'll...I'll play this little game they're trying to get at. But I'm only doing it because you asked."

"Look, I just want us to get out of this in one piece." He urged on, now poking at his food, appetite diminished from the idea alone. "I dragged you into this mess, if you want to leave, you can."

"Damn it Daniel, you know you didn't drag me into this, I wanted to come. Turns out the vampire bullshit was real after all, but you're dumb as a box of rocks if you think I'm just gonna leave you here. I'm going nowhere." You let out a chuff of a chuckle before nudging Molloy, giving him a reassuring smirk. "And I know that Daniel Molloy sure as shit won't let anyone outsmart him like this."

"Alright cocky brat, I hear you. Just be careful. Armand looked like he's two seconds away from ripping your head off last time."

"Oh, Armand would have already if he had the balls to do so. If anything, I think the real threat in the room is you know who..." Finishing the rest of your dish after popping the last piece in your mouth, you now gave Daniel the knowing look.

______ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

"Fuck, Armand—no wonder Louis loves to fuck you in his free time." You panted, watching as the vampire squirmed below you. You held his waist with a bruising strength that would normally feel uncomfortable for any human. But you knew that the vampire was durable. Heating his moan and mewl as your hips slapped against his ass, back arching up into you like a needy cat in heat. You didn't let up either, slamming into his body with brute force behind every thrust.

It was only then that you heard the mix of Armand and Daniels voice, gray haired individual cursing out as he gripped tightly onto the pillow behind his head. His glasses were gone and his face was flushed red as your thrust urged Armand to thrust into him. The vampire turned his head, as if trying to steal a kiss from you, pouting even. But you ignored him, leaning over to press your lips again Daniel's as his eyes fluttered closed, lashes dotted with tears and a muffled cry leaving him as Armand rammed his hips, almost in a jealous fashion.

Your fingers then found themselves threaded in the vampire's hair, only to yank his head back while a cry escaped his drool soaked lips. "You listen to me and you listen to me good. You think..you're all hot shit for a vampire, but I really know what you really are — Armand," you hissed out against the shell of his ear, dipping your head down before biting directly against the side of his neck. Your canines dug down into his tender flesh — not enough force to pierce — but enough to bite down onto the muscle below, knowing the skin would blemish and bloom due to your brutish actions.

The feeling alone made him cry out, hips stuttering between both you and Daniel. It was only then that you heard Molloy let out a gutteral noise in retaliation.

"You're my bitch in heat, understand?"

As Louis continued his interview, retelling whatever he could recall while letting Daniel read Claudia's entries, you kept your mouth shut and kept your comments to a minimum — as promised. But your thoughts, they ran rampant as you keep eye contact with Armand, watching as his eyes pierced into your own soul while peering into your mind. You could see a shift in his face features, his shoulders tending up as your expression stayed unchanging like a statue.

"Sorry to cut you off, I'm gonna step to the bathroom if that's alright. Lunch doesn't feel like it's sitting well," you addressed those in the room as you moved your notebook out of your lap and onto the table. "You good being alone in here for a sec Danny boy?"

"I'll be fine — and don't call me that, Jesus..." He muttered, shaking his head and overall dismissing you as he saw the shit eating grin on your face.

"Just askin' is all. Last time I left, I came back to you slapping Louis. Still never got an explanation for that one..."

"I assure you, nothing will happen to Daniel while you're away," Louis assured, giving you a genuine look to try and persuade you.

"Whatever you say," you stated, not giving the other stoic vampire the time of day after. Not a glance back or a thought for him to breach. Instead you left and got into the bathroom before starting the sink and splashing water on your face.

Even as you tried your best to hide it or ignore it, you could feel you growing erection making into a tent against your jeans, especially at your own thoughts. You almost dazed out back there and didn't even notice, but you knew that you'd finally hit the mark with Armand. With the way he was staring you down, you wouldn't have been surprised if he confronted you about such things.

It wasn't until you looked up in the mirror that you saw those predatory eyes stalking you again. By the time you whipped around, you were almost slammed into the sink, grinning as Armand grabbed against your throat. There was no real strength behind it, just a placement.

"Pervert, snooping through my thoughts even though I'm pretty sure Louis said that doing such a thing was off limits."

"He did not say such a thing," he quickly addressed, sneering at the grin that stayed in your face. "Who are you to have such thoughts about myself."

"You didn't say much about it. But to mention you seemed like you were enjoying it yourself pretty boy..." Your hand felt against his own groin, your grin only widening at the erection he seemed to pull as well. Watching as he stiffened up again made your arousal flare and his eyes seemed to soften. It almost looked as if he was trying to stop a noise from coming out with how fast his lips pressed into a thin line.

"I know one thing, Armand. You wouldn't be here if you didn't want something from me." Peeling his hand from your throat, you grabbed his face and pulled his closer. He did nothing to retaliate, almost melting at the semi rough gesture. "If you wanna be of any help while we still have time...I think you could put that mouth to good use."

To have Armand on his hands and knees? It was as if Christmas came early. But God, he looked absolutely divine as he slid down between your legs. You could only hope that Louis wouldn't mind sharing his immortal partner, Armand.

The vampire Armand?

More like Armand, your personal cockslut.

You could only wonder how fast he could be before one of the others came to look for the both of you.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

[reidsflwr]

it’s been a long time coming ; spencer reid.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: back in high school you used to have a crush on spencer and now you got to work together.

warnings: nothing really but english isn’t my first language so it might have some writing mistakes (sorry) and i didn’t really like how i finished this so if you guys like i might write a second part.

Your first day at the BAU was a whirlwind. As the newest profiler, you felt a mix of excitement and anxiety. You had spent weeks preparing for this moment, but nothing could have truly prepared you for the reality of stepping into the office for the first time. The team welcomed you warmly, though you couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sheer brilliance of your new colleagues.

Spencer Reid, in particular, caught your attention. He was everything you remembered from high school: intelligent, slightly awkward, and undeniably endearing. Despite your attempt to stay composed, you felt the same fluttering nerves you had back then.

When Spencer introduced himself, you found it hard to maintain eye contact. “Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said with a friendly smile. “Welcome to the team.”

You managed a nervous smile. “Thank you, Spencer. It’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer’s smile widened, and he seemed eager to make a connection. “If you need any help with the databases or anything else, just let me know.”

You nodded quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As the day progressed, you tried to focus on your work, but every time you glanced at Spencer, your heart raced. You could tell he was making an effort to be friendly and supportive, but you were too nervous to engage with him properly. It was clear he noticed your reluctance but didn’t push it, giving you space.

⌢୨୧⌢

The days following your first encounter were a struggle. Spencer’s attempts to be friendly and helpful often ended in awkward silences. He would offer to explain things you might not understand or bring you coffee, but every time you tried to respond, you stumbled over your words or offered a rushed, one-word reply.

One morning, Spencer approached you at the coffee machine. “Hey, I’ve been reading this fascinating book on criminal psychology. Would you like to borrow it? I think you’d find it really interesting.”

You forced a smile, feeling the familiar flush creep up your cheeks. “Thanks, but I have a lot of research to catch up on.”

Spencer’s face fell slightly, but he quickly recovered. “No problem. If you change your mind, just let me know.”

Later that week, you found yourself alone in the break room when Spencer came in, carrying a stack of papers. “I noticed you were working on the same case. I thought you might need some additional resources,” he said, placing the papers on the table.

You took a deep breath, trying to muster the courage to speak. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you quickly retreated to your desk, feeling a mix of embarrassment and frustration at your own behavior.

Despite Spencer’s best efforts to reach out, you continued to shy away, struggling to hide your feelings. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to interact with him; rather, every interaction left you more flustered than the last.

⌢୨୧⌢

The day came when Hotch assigned you and Spencer to interview the mother of a victim. You were grateful for the change of pace but also anxious about spending extended time with Spencer. As you drove together to the victim’s home, you focused on the task at hand, trying to push your nerves aside.

Spencer’s attempts to make conversation during the drive were met with brief, hesitant responses from you. “So, how are you finding the BAU so far?” he asked, his eyes occasionally flicking toward you.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of your own silence. “It’s… it’s good.”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You know, you seem a bit distant. I can’t help but wonder if I’ve done something to upset you.”

Your heart sank at his words. “What do you mean?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been avoiding me,” Spencer explained. “Whenever I try to be helpful or friendly, you… well, you seem uncomfortable. I assumed maybe I did something wrong.”

Feeling a pang of guilt, you decided it was time to explain. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. Actually, it’s the opposite.”

Spencer’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Oh? What do you mean?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “Well, it’s a bit complicated. We knew each other in high school. We even had a few classes together.”

Spencer looked puzzled. “Really? I don’t remember you from high school. I think I would have remembered.”

You nodded, your cheeks flushing with a mix of nostalgia and embarrassment. “I actually had a crush on you back then and i guess now that we’re working together, those old feelings are resurfacing, and it makes me a bit awkward around you.”

Spencer’s eyes widened. “Wait, you mean you had a crush on me!?”

You nodded, a soft blush creeping onto your cheeks. “Yes, I did. I thought you were incredibly smart and cute. I was too shy to ever talk to you. I remember how you used to come into class with these fascinating books and how you were always so focused. I just thought you were amazing.”

Spencer’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “I was so awkward back then. I mean, I’m still a bit weird, but not as much, I hope. I didn’t think anyone would ever see me that way, especially back then.”

You shook your head with a smile. “No, I thought you were adorable. You were this brilliant, quirky guy who seemed to be in his own world, and I found that really endearing.”

Spencer looked at you, clearly flustered. “I had no idea you felt that way. I always thought you were avoiding me because you didn’t like me.”

You smiled reassuringly. “No, I just didn’t know how to act around you. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed your words. “Wow, I’m kind of speechless. I never imagined…”

Before he could continue, you gently cut him off. “Let’s just focus on the interview for now. It’s important that we get this right.”

Spencer nodded, still processing the revelation. “Right, of course.”

As you both approached the victim’s mother’s home, the air between you felt lighter, charged with a new understanding. Spencer, though still surprised, was clearly intrigued and more attentive than ever. The tension that had once been present seemed to dissolve, replaced by a newfound curiosity and connection between you.

[totaly-obsessed]

Out of the Pages

➳ Paige Bueckers x reader

➳ Navigation Post - here!

➳ introvert x extrovert - worlds meet

➳ Pure fluff, not proof read, idk guys, it's been a while. ➳ reader really is just me...

➳ Word count: 3.1k

The soft afternoon sun filters through the curtains of the small apartment you share with your girlfriend in downtown Storrs, casting a warm, golden light over the neat rows of books on your beloved bookshelf. Through the open window, you can hear the people talking on the street as they embrace the last warm days before it eventually gets colder. 

October is halfway over, and it won’t be long until the basketball season starts back up again, leaving Paige and her teammates in a constant state of excitement as they are making the last preparations. But in this apartment, curled up in your favorite armchair, you are at peace, absorbed in the pages of your book as you try to solve the case alongside the main character—a stark contrast to the lively chaos your girlfriend thrives in. It’s that very difference that makes your relationship work so well, despite what other people say.

In one of the restaurants close by a glass is dropped, pulling your focus from the book. A quick glance at the clock tells you that it shouldn’t be too much longer until Paige comes home. Practice ended 20 minutes ago, but most days she stayed a bit later, getting some more shots in, trying to perfect them to the best of her abilities, before she finally walked the 5-minute way back to your joint home.

With a sigh you close your book, realizing that you should probably get a start on dinner. You had always been the kind of person who found joy in the quieter moments in life. Reading a good mystery book and savoring the stillness that came with an afternoon without classes. Paige thrived in the energy of the crowd and the adrenaline of the game, while you cherished the simple things. A nice, hot, cup of tea. The feeling of a brand new book in your hands. Rain hitting your window in the fall. Knowing that she will walk through your front door in a couple of minutes, happy to fall into your comforting arms and tell you everything that happened. 

But even with you being a more private person, Paige loved you loudly. Nearly every second day she posts a pic of you on her Story. Sometimes she posts little videos of how you’re dancing around in the kitchen with her or how her teammates are interacting with you. In interviews, it’s hard to get her to stop talking about you, because no matter what the topic is, she is guaranteed to talk about you. And her fans love every second of it, and they love every bit of you. While she chases perfection on the court, you find perfection in the little things—in the way her eyes light up when she talks about her day, in the quiet moments when you simply exist together, side by side. And everyone loves watching you two be in love.

“Hi, Lovie!” Not once in your life has Paige walked through your front door quietly. So just like most days, the door flings open, as your girlfriend grins at you. “Oh, you look good, Baby!” And just like most days, she pulls the ‘o’s’ in good as long as she can. “Love, I’m wearing a sweater and shorts.” You deadpan at her while you drain the pasta and pour it into a pan. “I know Baby.  But it’s my sweater and those shorts… Yeah, I don’t think I need to say it.” Warm arms wrap themselves around you as your girlfriend clings to you, looking over your shoulder and watching you finish the sauce. “There is no protein in there, Baby.” With a scoff you shrug her off, pushing her towards the bathroom. “Wash your hands, dinner is ready.”

A soft kiss was pressed against your cheek as Paige joined you at the table. “Thank you for cooking Ma.” With a soft hum you lean into her touch, a small smile playing at your lips as you reply, "Anything for you, Love." The blonde lets out a satisfied moan as she takes the first bite, “This is incredible.” As quickly as you can you pull a face, “There is no protein in there, baby”, mocking what she said earlier to you, in your best ‘Paige voice’. One of her eyebrows shoots up, daring you to test her again.

As the playful banter continues between the two of you, Paige's eyes gleam with a mischievous spark. "You know," she says, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms, "You can't stay cooped up in this apartment forever. How about coming out with me this weekend?"

You give her a knowing smile, already sensing where this conversation is headed. "Oh, Paige, you know I’d rather spend my time at home." She pouts dramatically, “But baby, it’s not just some loud party. It’s gonna be fun! Just a little get-together with the team and some friends. Nothing too crazy, I promise. Azzi told me about it.”

You roll your eyes affectionately, “I’ve heard that before. And I also remember how we ended up staying until 2 a.m. last time because you couldn't stop dancing.” Paige laughs, a sound like music filling the room, one of your favorite sounds there is. "Okay, fair point, but this time, I swear, it’s different. It's going to be relaxed—chill vibes, a few drinks, good music. Just a chance to hang out together."

You look at her skeptically, already shaking your head. “I don’t know, Paige… I’m really not the party type.” Your girlfriend leans in closer, her grin widening. "I know that, babe. And that’s exactly why I think you should come, just this once. It could be good for you to step out of your comfort zone. Who knows? You might even enjoy it." You laugh softly, but the idea still feels foreign to you. “I think my comfort zone is a pretty nice place, actually.” 

“Come on,” Paige nudges you gently. “Just think about it, okay?”

You nod, more to humor her than out of any real intention of agreeing. "I’ll think about it," you say, and Paige gives you a triumphant little cheer, knowing that everything but a ‘no’ is a victory.

Over the next few days, Paige doesn't let it go. She brings it up casually while you’re both cooking dinner, or when you're curled up on the couch together. “You know, they’ll have those little sliders you love at the party,” she mentions offhandedly one evening. Another day, she adds, “It could be like a mini-date night… just us two, but, like, with other people.”

You can’t help but smile at her persistence, though you keep gently declining each time. “I’m really not sure, Paige,” you respond, even as she keeps layering on reasons and reassurances, each argument filled with her enthusiasm.

Finally, one evening, as you’re sitting together watching a show, Paige takes a more serious tone. “Listen, love,” she says, turning towards you and taking your hand. “I know you’re not into these kinds of things, and I respect that. I love that you’re different. But I think it could be fun for us to do something a little out of the ordinary… together. Just this once.”

You tilt your head, considering her words, but still unsure. “And if I don’t have a good time?”

Paige smiles, her eyes soft. “Then we leave. No questions asked. I’ll stay by your side the entire time, I promise. I just… I just want to see you in my world, even if it’s just for one night. We can leave whenever you want. I promise you won’t be alone in it. I’ll be by your side the whole time, and Nika is gonna be there, and Azzi and KK, the whole team really. You love them! Deal?”

Her sincerity touches you, and you feel a small tug at your heart. You know how much this means to her, how much she wants to share every aspect of her life with you, just as she proudly shares you with the world.

With a sigh, you finally relent. “Alright, fine. I’ll go. But I’m holding you to that promise. One step out of line, and we’re out.” Paige’s face lights up with a brilliant smile, and she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. “Deal, baby. And trust me, it’ll be fun. You’ll see.” You smile back, feeling the warmth of her excitement radiating off her.

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she litters small kisses all over your face, as the blonde just can’t help herself, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. “If you hadn’t said yes today, I wasn’t gonna go either.” The jerk of your head was exactly what she had expected after telling you her little secret. At your whines, she could only laugh, “Nuh-uh. you said yes. Now We’re goin'!”

The night of the party arrives faster than you expected, and you find yourself standing in front of the mirror, adjusting your clothes nervously. Paige, ever the enthusiast, had picked out a comfortable yet stylish outfit for you, something that she assured would help you “blend in but still look cute." You catch her reflection in the mirror as she comes up behind you, wrapping her arms around your chest, her smile warm and encouraging. “You look perfect,” she says, and you know she means it.

Your nerves build with every meter on the way to the party. The streets are busier than usual for a usual Saturday night, and you can already hear the faint thrum of music coming from a few blocks away. Paige’s right hand found its usual place, your thigh, as she rubbed comforting circles. “Remember,” she murmurs softly, loud enough that you can hear her over the open windows that let in the cooling evening air, “we can leave whenever you want. This is just for fun, okay?”

You nod, trying to take a deep breath and push down the flutter of anxiety in your chest. The music grows louder as you approach the house, the bass thumping through the walls as the blonde parks the car. Laughter and chatter spill out into the street, a warm glow radiating from the windows. Paige squeezes your hand one last time before opening her car door, jogging around, and helping you out of your seat.

Inside, the atmosphere is exactly as you imagined—people are scattered around, chatting in groups, dancing, or playing games. You immediately feel a wave of discomfort wash over you. It’s not just the noise, but the sheer number of people crammed into the small space. Paige senses your hesitation and keeps you close, her arm slipping around your waist protectively.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispers, her lips close to your ear. “Just breathe. We’ll find a quieter corner.” She guides you gently through the crowd, smiling and waving at friends as you pass by. You catch snippets of conversations and see faces turning your way, but Paige’s presence keeps you grounded. She introduces you to a few people, all of them friendly enough, but the whirlwind of names and faces makes your head spin.

How does this girl know everyone?

Finally, you reach a quieter spot near the kitchen, where the noise is a bit more subdued. Paige grabs two drinks, handing one to you. “Here, something light,” she says with a wink. “No pressure to drink if you don’t want to, but it might help you relax.”

You take a tentative sip, and Paige’s smile widens. “See? Not so bad, right?” You give her a small smile in return, still feeling a bit overwhelmed but comforted by her presence. For a few minutes, things seem to settle. Paige chats animatedly with a few friends who come by to say hello, and you listen quietly, feeling a little more at ease just being by her side.

But then, KK and Ice, two of Paige’s closest friends and teammates, approach with wide grins. “Paige!” KK exclaims, throwing an arm around her shoulder. “We’re about to start a game of beer pong. You in?” 

Paige glances at you, “Nah, I’m good right where I am,” she says firmly, smiling at her friends. “I’m here to spend time with my girl tonight.”

KK raises an eyebrow, her grin widening. “Your girl can play too, you know,” she teases, glancing over at you with a playful challenge in her eyes. “Come on, it’s just a game. We promise not to make it too competitive… unless you want us to.” Ice laughs and nods, chiming in, “Yeah, it’ll be fun! You’ve got Paige on your team, so you’re already halfway to winning!”

Paige looks at you, her eyes searching yours for a moment. She can see the hesitation written all over your face, the way your fingers lightly grip her arm, not wanting to let go. You give her a small, almost imperceptible shake of your head, and she instantly understands.

She turns back to KK and Ice, flashing a charming smile. “You know what? I think I’m gonna sit this one out tonight,” she says smoothly. “We’re just here to chill and have a quiet night. Maybe next time?”

KK chuckles, catching the subtle glance between you and Paige. “Alright, alright, we get it. No pressure,” she teases with a grin. “You two are inseparable, huh?” Paige just shrugs, her grin widening as she pulls you closer to her side. “Can you blame me?” she quips back, her tone light but sincere.

KK and Ice exchange a knowing look, teasing her with playful jabs. “Oh, come on, Paige, you’re whipped,” KK laughs, but there’s no malice in it��just teasing their friend. 

“Damn right, I am,” Paige grins, pulling you closer. “And proud of it.”

They laugh and shake their heads. "Alright, alright," Ice says, “we’ll catch you later then.” They wander off, leaving you and Paige in your little corner.

As they wander off to join the others, Paige turns to you, her smile softening. “I’ve got you, always,” she murmurs, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You feel the tension in your shoulders ease a bit, and you nod. “Thank you,” you whisper, and Paige leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No big deal Ma.,” she replies softly.

“Tell me about your book, baby. What happened in the last chapter? Did Pip figure it out?”

You can’t help but smile at her genuine interest. Paige has heard you ramble on about countless books, and every time she listens as if it’s the most important thing in the world. "Well," you start, your voice a little shaky but gaining confidence as you go on, "Pip thinks she has it all figured out, but there’s this new twist... the suspect has an alibi that throws her entire theory out the window."

Paige’s eyes widen dramatically. “No way!” she exclaims, leaning in closer as if this story was the most gripping thing she'd ever heard. “I was sure she had it this time. What’s she going to do now?”

You laugh softly at her enthusiasm, feeling more at ease. "She’s back to square one, basically. But she’s determined to find a new lead, and I think she’s getting closer to the truth."

Paige nods, fully absorbed in your words, her blue eyes fixed on you with a look of admiration that makes your heart flutter. For a moment, the noise and energy of the party fade away, and it’s just the two of you, sharing this quiet little world together. It’s these moments that remind you why you took the chance to come here tonight—for her, for this.

Just then, from across the room, Azzi catches sight of Paige and nudges Nika, who follows her gaze. They both burst into giggles, catching the attention of KK and Ice, who turns to see what’s so amusing. 

“Look at her,” Azzi whispers to the group, a grin spreading across her face. “She’s got the puppy dog eyes again.”

KK snickers, “She’s totally whipped. She looks like she’s watching a sunrise or something.”

Nika laughs quietly, nodding. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look at anyone like that,” she adds, her voice filled with a touch of wonder. “It’s actually really cute.”

Ice chuckles, shaking her head. “That’s love, right there,” she says with a smile. “The girl’s completely gone for her.”

Meanwhile, Paige remains blissfully unaware of her friends’ teasing, still fully focused on you, hanging on to every word as you continue to tell her about the next chapter. Her hand finds yours, squeezing it gently, her thumb tracing light circles over your skin.

After a few moments, you catch sight of her friends watching from across the room, and you feel a blush creep up your cheeks. “Paige,” you whisper, nudging her slightly. “Your friends are staring.”

Paige glances over and catches their teasing expressions. She rolls her eyes with a grin, then turns back to you, unabashed. “Let them stare,” she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. “I’ve got everything I want right here.”

You feel your heart swell with affection as Paige leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. The party continues around you, but it feels like the noise has dimmed just a little, leaving a bubble of peace around the two of you.

Eventually, the evening winds down, and as the crowd begins to thin, you realize that Paige is right. It wasn’t so bad—actually, it was more than that. You had fun in your own way, simply by being there with her, sharing in her world.

As you make your way back to the car, hand in hand, Paige looks at you with a triumphant smile. “See?” she says, her eyes sparkling with mischief and joy. “Told you it would be fun.” You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling, too. “Okay, okay,” you admit. “Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

As you reach the car, she stops and turns to face you, her expression turning sincere. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For tonight, and for always being my safe place.” You lean in and kiss her softly, your heart full. “I love you, Paige,” you murmur against her lips. “Anywhere with you is where I want to be.”

And with that, you both get into the car and drive back home together, knowing that whether in a crowded party or a quiet apartment, you have everything you need as long as you have each other.

[cheriladycl01]

Would you write a Carlos or Max x reader please where she’s a driver too. They’re always worried about her when she races but they’re not prepared when she gets into a serious crash just running errands to the store. They get a call from her caller ID expecting her to have forgotten something but it’s a police officer or paramedic telling them she’s been in an accident. Thank you!

Is this Mr Sainz? - Carlos Sainz x Driver! Verstappen Reader x (Brother) Max Verstappen

Plot: You get into a car crash when shopping for the first food shop before a race weekend.

You were used to driving, it was literally your job at a professional level as a driver in Formula One driver. And you were good too, having 3 wins under your belt in only your third year in the sport.

Sometimes it felt like you only had your seat because you were a Verstappen, but racing was in your blood and you were becoming just as much of a menance as your brother on track.

You also had your boyfriend Carlos who you’d been dating since you were in F2. You never thoughtyou’d make it as far as F1, but after proving yourself in your F2 season, and not struggling too much without power steering, you were promoted.

Having Carlos and Max on track with you was so fun as you were always teasing and making jokes with each other especially in interviews and on Thursday media days.

Carlos and Max however hated the fact that they had to race you and track an that you were good enough to actually fight for position with the pair of them. They were both pretty worried about you before they got into the car. Once they were on track they both tried to consider you as just another car, but admitidly that was pretty hard.

They never thought about you normally driving… it was such a mundane thing compared to driving round tracks at around 250mph.

“Hello is this Mr Sainz?” the call came through whilst Carlos, Max, Lando, Oscar, Charles and Pierre were all in the hotel lobby just waiting around having drinks and talking. It was your caller ID so Carlos didnt think anything off it when he picked it up to here … well not you on the other end.

You were out, getting some snacks for in the hotel room. Everyone had sent you their orders and you’d gone out by yourself wanting some time alone ahead of the race weekend.

You were walking around the large shop, picking out what was given from the list before heading to the checkout. It was getting kind of late, and it was media day tomorrow so you wanted to go back as soon as possible.

“Hi, how are you?” You smile at check out lady who looks shocked to see you before starting to scan your items.

“I’m okay! How are you?” she asks back still looking over you in shock and you try not to chuckle at her reaction.

“I’m pretty good, just shopping for some snacks for my friends. This was the nearest place, its really nice in here” you smile as you take the items off her and pack them into one of your reusable bags.

“That’s gonna set you back $82.52” she says, her American accent coming through. You smile and shake your head.

“On snacks, my god I forgot how many people I was buying for” you chuckle handing over your black card and putting the food back into the trolley.

“Thank you so much! You’ve been so helpful!” you smile before you walk outside going to the car you had rented and loading up the boot of the car.

“Yes this is he” he says with a confused look, furrowing across his brows as he glances a the group who are also looking over to him.

“You are listed here as the emerency contact for a Y/N Verstappen yes?” the voice asks and Carlos feels his heart skip a beat. He looked over to Max, who was now chatting and joking around with Lando.

“Hold for one second please” he says before muting the call.

“Max, come outside. Now…” Carlos says gruffy, before walking outside to a quiet area where there arent any people to interrupt.

“Yes I am the emergency contact for Y/N Verstappen” Carlos sighs and Max freezes.

“She’s been in an accident and we are requesting you and a Max Vertsappen, her second emergency contact at he hospital immedielty” he explains and Max and Carlos share a look.

“What happened?” Max asks, a pause from the officer slighty confused at the different accent change.

“Whos this?”

“I’m her brother Max Vertsappen” he says, his tone cold.

“Well, it looks like she was coming back from the shops and a drunk driver ran through a red light and went into the side of her car crossing the road. She’s in surgery right now but that’s all i can confirm right now” he offers and tears build up in Carlos’ eyes. Max is sort of frozen in shock before he shakes himself out of it.

“We’ll be there as soon as possible, St David’s I’m guessing?” he asks and gets cofirmation from the officer before hanging up Carlos’ phone for him.

“Carlos come on” Max says pulling at his fellow drivers wrist who is now the frozen one with a blank look on his face.

“I-“ he starts but cant say anything.

“Carlos come on, this cant wait!” Max exclaims before the older man wakes himself up from his daze and follows Max to the lobby where their friends are waiting.

“Can one of you drive us to the hospital, we’re both to irratic to be behind the wheel right now” Max asks, looking at everyone who’d stopped their convrsations the minute the absent duo had come back in.

“What? What’s happened are you. okay?” Charles asks standing up.

“It’s Y/N she got into a car crash, drunk driver or something and she’s in the hospital right now” Carlos explains to the group.

“I’ll drive!” Lando agrees quickly, before taking them out to his McLaren, Carlos sat next to him while Max sat in the back.

“Whoever did this is going to pay” Max spits out angrily, tapping against the back of Lando’s seat.

“She’ll be okay, she’s like the strongest person i know” Lando replies looking in the rear view mirror at Max before concentrating back on the road.

They get to the hospital in record time running into the emergency department trying to look for Y/N.

“I’m going to go get some flowers and chocolate for her, you guys let me know the room shes in yeah?” Lando says knowing that they just want to ask and see how she is.

They nod the younger driver off before hounding the receptionist with questions.

“Is Y/N Verstappen here?” Carlos asks.

“She was in a car crash, an officer said she was in surgery?” Max asks.

“She’s an F1 Driver has her team been informed about the accident, what about her family?” Carlos asks.

“Slow down. I unfortunaltley dont have the answer to any of those questions but the first. She’s here, I’m not sure if she’s out of surgry yet but I will. page her doctor to come see you both. Please in the meantime take a seat” she directs them to the smaller and more privte waiting area.

Carlos takes a seat first his head in his hands while Max starts to make calls to his mum and dad and ther sister letting them know what was going on and telling them the limited knowlege he had on the situation.

In the time they’d been waiting, it had gotten out to h general public that you’d been in a car crash and articles and posts had been made online regarding the situation.

“For Y/N Verstappen?” a lady calls in a longwhite coat clipbaord in hand. Carlos’ head lifts up from his hands and he steps up towards the lady as Max hangs up.

“Yes?” Max asks looking over to the doctor.

“Your sister Y/N is out of surgery, it was hard work but she’ll make a full recovery in time. She’s a fighter and we really thought we’d lost her for a second. She’s asleep right now but you can visit” she smiles offering to guide them through the area.

“Thank you” Carlos’ cries pulling Max in for a hug, leaning agaisnt his shoulder before they follow the doctor through to your room.

You were asleep on the hospital bed, some wires and other medical tech strapped up to you and Max never thought he’d see you like this, he’s prayed you’d never ever be in this situation. He hated seeing you, looking so fragile and vulnerable.

Eventually your anesthetic wore off and you were woken up to voices lightly talking and rays of sun bursting through the window. The first thing you notice is how relaxed your body is. Not that you knew right now but the morphine you were on for pain was making you very woozy.

“Mmmmmm” you groan as you try to move.

“Hey baby” you hear lightly from next to you, your eyes fluttering open to meet your boyfriends.

“Hi Carlos” you smile soflty looking at him and the worried look on his face.

That’s when yourmind becomes a little less fuzzy and you realsise you are neither at home or in the hotel.

“You were in a car crash, you had us worried” you hear your brother admit.

“Mmmm Max?” you asklooking around the room seeing the various flowers and cards and noticing it was a hospital room.

“We’re here” he smiles coming to stand the other side of the bed.

“We’ll always be here for you” Carlos adds, holding your hand.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[sherewrytes]

WHAT THESE BITCHES WANT FROM A NIGGA Part 2

Cause i missed writting for Ony outside of Love and Gunshots

here is a lil fic inspired by me listening to way too much DMX songs

Part Two... There maybe 2 or 3 more parts after this cause I wrote this shit to long lol

Thursday arrived quicker than I had expected, and the tension was practically palpable as I made my way to the studio. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but whatever it was, I wasn’t prepared for the weight of the moment. The nerves gnawed at my insides, but I pushed them down. This was business, after all. We were here to work, and I wasn’t about to let all the mess from last night get in the way.

The interview was set for later in the afternoon, and I knew Ony was probably already at the studio, decked out like usual. He had a reputation to maintain, after all, and he took that shit seriously. It wasn’t like I was gonna walk in there and see some chill, relaxed dude ready to talk about everything. No, Ony was always Ony—sharp, cool, a little untouchable.

I ran a hand through my hair and adjusted my outfit one last time before stepping into the studio building. I was dressed to the ninth, of course, because what else would I do when I knew Ony would be there looking like he stepped out of a damn magazine? I couldn’t let him one-up me, not when he was the one who made me feel like I had to prove something.

As soon as I stepped through the door, I saw him across the room. Ony was sitting in a chair by the soundboard, his feet propped up, an air of confidence surrounding him like it always did. He was wearing his usual oversized hoodie and baggy jeans, the silver chain around his neck glinting under the studio lights, his diamond earrings catching every flicker of the light. His presence was magnetic, as always, but there was something different today.

He was distracted—too distracted, in fact. It was like he was trying to act like it was any other day, but I could feel the tension in the air. I wasn’t sure if it was just me or if he was feeling it too, but something about the whole setup felt off.

I walked in a little further, and our eyes met for just a second before he quickly turned his attention to something else. He was good at pretending like he didn’t care, like nothing was at stake, but I could see through that. I always could.

The small talk was kept to a minimum as I took a seat, my focus on the task at hand. The interview.

But, as usual, the silence between us was loud. I could almost hear his thoughts, even without him saying a word.

It was almost like he was waiting for me to break the ice.

And that was when I realized it wasn’t just the interview that had me so wound up. It was the reality of seeing him again. The way everything had changed between us. The way I wasn’t sure if I could keep pretending that everything was fine when deep down, I felt like I was drowning.

“So,” I started, breaking the silence, my voice coming out a little more clipped than I intended, “You’re ready to talk?”

He gave a small nod, but the words were slow to come. Ony was playing the part, the cool, untouchable rapper everyone thought he was, but there was something else behind his eyes. Maybe it was the way he looked at me—like there was something he was holding back.

But that’s how Ony was. He always had a way of being distant when it suited him.

His voice was low, almost like he was testing the waters. “What’s up, Y/N? You good?”

I tilted my head slightly. There it was again—the way he said my name. It wasn’t how people usually said it. There was something personal about the way he said it, like we shared a history that couldn’t be erased. I was trying not to let it get to me, but the fact that he wasn’t all up in my face trying to be charming told me everything I needed to know.

“I’m good,” I said flatly. “Let’s get this over with.”

He leaned back, his gaze momentarily flicking toward the door as if he was looking for something or someone.

The crew was setting up for the interview, but it felt like it was just the two of us.

There was something heavy in the air, something unspoken hanging between us.

I wasn’t going to be the one to break it. Not this time.

Then, just like that, the camera crew moved into position, and the whole room shifted.

The vibe had changed. This wasn’t just a studio session. This wasn’t just about making music. This was something else, something personal. Something that only Ony and I understood, whether we were ready to admit it or not.

And as we began, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we weren’t going to leave this room without finally confronting whatever it was we were both trying to avoid.

Ony’s POV 

I could feel Y/N’s eyes on me the whole time as she asked question after question, digging into me like she had a point to prove. Normally, I’d be playing it cool, giving the standard answers, but today was different. Something about the way she was looking at me—like she wasn’t just another interviewer trying to get a story, but like she actually cared about the answers.

Hard-hitting questions.

She didn’t stop. I answered every one with the confidence I was known for, but every now and then, I could feel her picking at me, just enough to make me uncomfortable. Like she wanted to see if she could break through my armor.

And then it happened—the track. What These Bitches Want.

She leaned forward, her expression sharp. I could see that familiar curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t letting up. "So," she started, "this track. You know Twitter leaked a whole thread listing the names of the girls you mentioned in your song. Brenda, Latisha, Linda, Felicia, all of them. How do you feel about the fact that people are connecting those names to your past?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I knew what she was talking about. The song, the names, the whole thing—it was messy. The media loved this type of chaos. But I wasn’t about to let her see how much it got to me.

I took a long drag from the blunt in my hand, blowing out the smoke slowly as I thought about my response. She wasn’t pulling any punches. I wasn’t gonna pull any either.

"Man," I started, leaning back in the chair, making sure to keep my tone steady, "it is what it is. People gonna talk. They gon' speculate. That's the game, right?" I paused for a second, meeting her eyes directly, trying to read her. "But that track is what it is. I named names 'cause that’s real life. People always wanna know about the past, and I gave 'em a piece of it. Doesn’t mean it’s all fact though."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the answer, but she moved on—for now.

"Okay," she said, tapping her pen on the notepad in her lap. "But the whole thread… the whole list of names—people are saying you’re just throwing around names of women like it’s nothing. That you’re just calling them out for clout. What’s your response to that?"

Her voice was steady, no judgment, but I could tell she was trying to gauge my reaction. I could feel the pressure building, but I wasn’t about to let her see me sweat. This was the game, after all.

"Look, I’m not the first person to talk about women in my songs," I said with a smirk, "and I sure as hell won’t be the last. But don’t get it twisted. This ain’t about clout, it’s about experiences. I don’t talk about what I don’t know. These women, they all had a part in my life. That’s what the song’s about—my story."

Y/N nodded, but there was still something in her eyes that told me she wasn’t done.

She scribbled something down, glanced at me, and asked, "But there’s a difference between putting your experiences in a song and, I don't know… dragging people into it, right? Especially when you’re talking about real-life people. Some of them probably didn’t sign up for that. Did you think about that when you dropped it?"

I felt my jaw tighten. I knew this was where she was going, and I was prepared for it, but it didn’t make it any easier.

"Yeah, I thought about it," I said slowly, exhaling through my nose. "But I didn’t make that track for anyone but me. I made it for the people who understand. If someone takes offense, that’s on them. I’m not here to play it safe. I’m just being real."

I could see her processing what I said, but before she could ask another question, she leaned back, clearly considering her words carefully.

I knew what was coming next, and I wasn’t ready for it.

"So," she started, her voice low but firm, "let’s get into the real question that’s been on everyone’s mind. What about you and Y/N?"

My heart stopped, and I felt the temperature in the room rise.

I didn’t know how she’d gotten to that, but she wasn’t wasting any time getting to the heart of it. I cleared my throat, trying to maintain my composure. "What about us?"

"You know exactly what I mean," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You and me. The song, the history. You think people don’t see the way you’re acting now? How you’re dodging the questions and trying to brush off the past like it didn’t happen? You know, people online are saying you and I linked back in the day. They’re even saying there’s a picture of us together from way back when. You gonna own up to that?"

The room went still.

I hadn’t expected her to bring it up, not in front of everyone, not like this. But here we were.

"Man, it’s been years," I muttered, feeling a little uneasy under her gaze. "I don’t know what people are talking about. I’m just here to talk about music. Whatever happened in the past is the past. You know that."

But even as I said it, I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was looking at me like she knew exactly what I meant. Like she was waiting for me to admit something I didn’t want to face.

She didn’t say anything right away. Instead, she stared at me for a moment, almost as if she was trying to decide whether or not she should push me further.

Eventually, she scribbled a few more notes down and then dropped the pen. "Alright, Ony. Let’s talk about something else."

The tension was still thick, but she let it go. For now.

But I knew that look in her eyes. She wasn’t done with me. Not by a long shot.

The interview was in full swing, and I’d answered every question she threw at me without hesitation. Y/N was on her game, asking questions that weren’t just surface level—she was diving deep, forcing me to actually think about my answers instead of just coasting through.

I’d seen her work before, knew she was good at what she did, but it hit different when she was asking me the questions. This was no fluff piece; this was an interview that was going to have people talking.

But now, we were switching gears. Y/N pulled out her phone, scrolling through Instagram and Twitter.

“Alright,” she said, her tone more playful now as she looked up at me. “We’ve got some questions from your fans. And trust me, they’re asking.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool, but I could feel the tension in my shoulders. Fans were wild. They never held back. I could already tell this was going to be a ride.

Y/N looked down at her phone and cleared her throat. "Okay, first question. ‘Ony, is it true that you never take a day off from the studio? How do you stay so consistent with your work ethic?’"

I leaned back in my chair, exhaling the smoke slowly. That one was easy. "Yeah, I’m always in the studio. My work’s my life. If I’m not recording, I’m writing, or I’m thinking of new ways to keep my sound fresh. I don’t believe in ‘taking it easy.’ My fans deserve the best, and I don’t want to drop anything less than that."

Y/N nodded, scribbling a note. “Alright, next question. ‘Who’s your biggest inspiration in the game right now?’”

I chuckled, taking another hit from the blunt before answering. "Man, I gotta say... Jay-Z. He’s been doing it for so long and always finds a way to stay relevant. I respect that. But there are others too—DMX, Pac, Ye... there’s a lot of influence in my sound.”

Y/N shot me a knowing glance. "I’m guessing you’ve had your fair share of ‘DMX moments’ in the studio?"

I smirked, nodding. "You could say that. Gotta channel the energy when it’s time. Sometimes you gotta get loud to make the impact."

Y/N tapped her phone again, smirking a little herself. “Alright, here’s a good one. ‘Ony, when are you finally gonna drop someR&B tracks? We know you have it in you.’”

That one made me laugh. "Man, they always want me to switch it up," I said, leaning in with a grin. "But who knows? I might just surprise you all. I love the vibe, and I definitely have some R&B in the stash, but when I’m ready to drop it, you’ll know."

She raised an eyebrow at me. "That’s a little bit of a tease, don’t you think?"

I shrugged. “Gotta keep ‘em guessing.”

Y/N’s eyes flicked to her phone again, and I could tell she was scanning through more questions. Her next one made my chest tighten a bit, though I couldn’t show it.

“Okay,” she said, looking up with a smirk. "This one is a bit personal. ‘What happened with you and the girl in your song What These Bitches Want? There’s a whole thread online about it. Who are all those names?”

I didn’t flinch, but damn… I wasn’t ready for this one.

"Man," I started, keeping my voice steady, "y’all always diggin’ into the personal stuff, huh? But look, the track is what it is. I’m not gonna act like I didn’t have some wild situations. But those names? That’s just part of my story. You get into the game, you meet people, you have experiences. Some people want to make it about drama, but for me, it’s just part of the process."

Y/N gave me a nod, but I could see the curiosity in her eyes. She wasn’t fully buying it. But I wasn’t about to dive any deeper into it.

She quickly moved on, and I was almost relieved.

“Alright, next question,” she continued. “This one’s a little different. ‘Who’s the one person you’d love to collaborate with in the future?’”

This one was easier. "Easy—Kendrick Lamar. The man’s a genius. His bars? His concepts? I’d love to work with him. That would be a whole vibe."

Y/N smiled slightly, clearly impressed by the answer. "I’d love to hear that. Alright, last question before we wrap this up. Fans are asking, ‘Is there any truth to the rumors about you and Y/N? People keep saying y’all are more than just friends.’”

I froze. The room seemed to go quiet for a second. Y/N didn’t make a move, just waiting for me to answer.

This question... I knew it was coming, but it still felt like the floor had dropped out from under me.

I kept my face neutral, though. No signs of cracking.

"Man," I said slowly, leaning back again, trying to keep it light, "I don’t know where these rumors come from. Y/N and I, we go way back. But we’re cool. That’s all there is to it."

Y/N glanced at me with a hint of something I couldn’t quite read. Then, she made a little noise in her throat and tapped her phone.

"Alright, well, there you have it," she said, looking up at me with a smile. "Thanks for answering the questions. You’ve definitely given people something to talk about, that’s for sure."

I nodded, but the tension between us was still there, hanging in the air. The interview had been real, but something told me this wasn’t the last time we were going to talk about that one question.

The interview was finally over. My mind was still running on the questions, especially that last one. I dodged it well, kept it cool. But that tension? It wasn’t going anywhere.

Connie walked up to me with a sly grin on his face. “You didn’t choke,” he said, throwing a quick glance at Y/N as she packed up her things. “So, I guess you win. You’re welcome, by the way. Told you I’d put you on blast if you messed up.”

I smirked, taking the jab in stride. "Yeah, yeah. You like to talk big, but I knew I had it in the bag."

Connie laughed, patting me on the shoulder before stepping back to give me some space. His eyes shifted to Y/N as she continued packing up, and I could tell he was trying to figure out if she was gonna stick around or just bounce. But me? I wasn’t ready to let her leave just yet.

I walked over to where she was, the sound of my footsteps light but deliberate. She didn’t look up at first, too focused on packing her gear into her bag, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

“You good?” I asked, standing a few feet away from her, my voice casual but with a hint of concern. “I ain’t seen you in years.”

Y/N finally looked up at me, her eyes sharp and a little guarded. She didn’t answer right away, just studied me for a second like she was trying to read me.

“Yeah, I’m good,” she said, her tone neutral. But something in her eyes told me it wasn’t that simple.

I chuckled softly, leaning against the table beside her. “I wasn’t sure how today was gonna go, but I can tell you ain’t a fan of me still being on my bullshit.”

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my attempt at lightheartedness. “You never stop, do you?”

I shrugged. “What can I say? It’s a part of the game.”

She was quiet for a moment, her hands still moving as she packed up her stuff. The air between us felt heavier now, like we were finally back in a space where things weren’t as simple as they once were. I could feel the past hanging around us, but neither of us were ready to confront it—not yet.

“Look, I’m not here to dig into anything you don’t want to talk about,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “But I’ll be real with you, Ony... you didn’t change. At all.”

I let out a long breath, trying to figure out how to respond. She wasn’t wrong. I hadn’t changed much, but that was the truth, wasn’t it? The streets don’t let you change unless you let them. And I hadn’t let anything in.

“I never said I had to,” I replied, my gaze steady on her. “I’m me. Always have been.”

Y/N didn’t say anything to that. She just packed up the last of her things, zipped up her bag, and stood up to face me. She looked tired, like she was ready to get out of here, and I couldn’t blame her. She had enough on her plate without me adding more to it.

“You still owe me an answer,” she said, suddenly looking me dead in the eyes.

I felt my chest tighten. I knew what she was talking about. The questions I’d avoided today—the ones about her. I hadn’t answered them, and I wasn’t sure if I ever would.

“I’ll answer when I’m ready,” I said, my tone quieter than usual, the playfulness slipping away for a moment.

She seemed to understand, but the silence between us was a heavy one. Y/N gave a small nod, like she wasn’t expecting anything else from me.

“Maybe I’ll see you around, Ony,” she said, her voice soft but final.

And just like that, she turned, heading for the door. I stood there, frozen for a moment, watching her leave, wondering if this was just another goodbye.

I watched Y/N walk toward the door, the sound of her footsteps cutting through the tension that had settled in the room. Every part of me knew I should stop her, say something, anything, before she slipped out again, but... I didn’t move.

Connie, standing off to the side, must've seen the same thing. He stepped closer, his smirk still in place, but the edge in his voice made me snap out of my thoughts.

“You better go stop her and talk your shit, bitch ass,” he teased, shaking his head with that shit-eating grin of his.

I glared at him, but the words stung in a way I wasn’t expecting. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to go after her. It was just... complicated. But damn if Connie wasn’t right. I couldn’t just let her leave again, not like this.

I ran a hand through my hair, the tension gnawing at me. Fuck it.

Before I could second-guess myself, I turned and bolted after her. My heart was beating in my chest, and my mind was racing, trying to figure out what I was even going to say to her.

I caught up to her just as she reached the door, her hand already on the handle.

“Y/N,” I said, my voice a little rougher than I wanted it to be. She paused, but didn’t turn around. I could feel the heat of the moment in the air, the weight of everything left unsaid between us.

She finally turned around slowly, a neutral expression on her face, but I could see the flicker of something in her eyes. Maybe she was as tired as I was of playing this game.

“Look, I didn’t mean to—” I started, but she cut me off, her voice calm, yet firm.

“No, you didn’t mean to. That’s always your excuse, right?” She stepped closer to me, crossing her arms over her chest. "You never mean to hurt anyone, but you still do."

Her words hit hard, and I couldn’t lie—she wasn’t wrong. I’d been running from things, from her, for too long. But the truth was, I didn’t know how to fix it.

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice steady. “I never wanted to hurt you, Y/N. You know that.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine, and for the first time in years, I felt like she saw right through me.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Ony,” she said softly. “You keep saying things like that, but your actions... they don’t match up.”

I swallowed hard. There it was—the part I’d been avoiding, the truth I’d been running from. But it was too late to back down now.

“I’m not asking for you to forgive me,” I said, my voice low, but sincere. “I just... I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you. You were never just some girl to me.”

The words were coming out faster than I could control them, but it felt good to finally say them. To finally let her know what I should’ve said a long time ago.

She didn’t respond immediately, just stood there looking at me, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she spoke again.

“You always say that, but you never show it. You let me walk away the first time, Ony. And I don’t know if I can trust you not to do it again.”

Her words stung, but I deserved it. I had let her go once before, and I wasn’t sure if I could make it right now.

“I won’t let you walk away again,” I said, my voice steady despite the weight of the situation.

She met my gaze for a long moment, then finally sighed and shook her head. “I don’t know, Ony. I really don’t know.”

Before I could respond, she reached for the door handle again. But this time, I wasn’t letting her walk out without saying something real.

“Wait,” I said, grabbing her arm gently. “Can we just—can we talk, maybe? Not here, not now, but... soon. Let me show you that I’m not the same person I was back then.”

She looked down at my hand on her arm and then up at me, searching my eyes. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her response.

Finally, she nodded, her voice quieter this time. “I’ll think about it, Ony. But I’m not promising anything.”

And with that, she stepped out of the door, leaving me standing there, wondering if this time would be different.

Of course, the internet never missed anything.

Barely an hour after Y/N left, the pictures started flooding Tumblr, Twitter/X, and Instagram. Some fanpage must’ve been lurking outside the studio because they caught everything—me standing close to her, grabbing her arm, the tension in our expressions. One shot even had me looking dead into her eyes, my grip firm but careful.

The captions were out of pocket as usual.

🗣 "Lovers' spat? 👀 Ony caught in a HEATED moment with journalist Y/N L/N right after their interview. What y’all think they were talking about???"

"Not y’all telling me to scroll Ony’s IG—THEM OLD PICS OF HIM AND Y/N BEEN RIGHT THERE. 👀👀👀"

"Y’all remember when we used to joke that Ony had a ‘one that got away’?? 👀 Well… she might be BACK."

"Ony grabbing her arm like ‘you not finna leave me again’ oh we are so BACK."

"Y/N’s face in the last pic… girl, what did he SAY to you? 👀"

And then, of course, the edits started. Somebody already put that last pic in black and white with a The weeknd lyric slapped on top.

“You always try to hide the pain

You always know just what to say

I always look the other way”

Even worse, some messy fan pages started throwing old receipts into the mix. One post had a side-by-side comparison:

Left side: An old-ass photo of me and Y/N from way back, sitting on a couch together, me leaning back comfortably as hell, Y/N next to me laughing.

Right side: The newest pic outside the studio, me grabbing her arm while she stared at me like she wasn’t sure whether to slap me or listen.

"A full-circle moment. This is crazy."

The comments were going crazy.

"Not them having HISTORY???" "Y/N stay quiet, girl, they gonna have you in a YouTube deep dive in the morning." "Connie needs to speak up 😭 wasn’t he just saying Y/N wasn’t ‘like that’ with Ony?? LIED."

And, as expected, one of the tea pages said:

"I’m adding this to my deep dive IMMEDIATELY."

I exhaled, dragging a hand down my face as I scrolled through the mess.

"Man… fuck."

I already knew what was coming.

Y/N was gonna hate this.

Mikasa looked exhausted. I already knew she had her work cut out for her this week, but this shit was on another level.

First, she had to deal with the women who got exposed in my track—some of them lying on my name, trying to spin the narrative that I did them dirty, like they didn’t know the deal from jump. I had to spend the last few days dropping receipts and setting the record straight before people started painting me like some actual villain.

Then, there was the whole Y/N situation.

That interview might’ve wrapped up, but the internet? They weren’t letting it go.

Y/N gained 200K followers on IG overnight.

Overnight.

Her posts were flooded with comments—thirsty-ass dudes, tea pages, fan theories, and edits. The messy blogs had a field day, calling her my “mystery girl” and digging through her old posts like the FBI.

And then, of course, the real icing on the cake?

She still had old pictures of us on her page.

Not a lot. Just a few scattered among other posts—some of her and Connie back in middle and high school, and a couple that had me in them too. Not enough to be obvious, but enough for people to put two and two together.

And Y/N? She was cussing Connie out as we speak.

I could hear her going off through the phone, her voice muffled but still heated as hell while Connie held it up to his ear.

"Constance, I SWEAR TO GOD, I am gonna block your bald-headed ass—"

Connie just laughed. “Aight, aight, damn, chill! What I do now?”

“DON’T ‘WHAT I DO NOW’ ME—YOU LET ME WALK INTO THAT INTERVIEW BLIND, KNOWING DAMN WELL THEY WAS GONNA START SOME SHIT—”

I shook my head, tuning them out as I focused back on Mikasa.

She rubbed her temples, staring at her phone like she wanted to throw it. "I swear to God, if one more blog calls me about setting up a joint interview between you two—"

I raised a brow. "A joint interview?"

"Yes, dumbass. Because the internet now thinks y’all got some tragic love story and they wanna milk the hell out of it."

I scoffed. "That’s crazy."

Mikasa shot me a look. "Is it?"

I didn’t say shit.

Because the way she was staring, I knew she wasn’t just talking about the internet.

Connie, being the pest he always was, had his phone on speaker so Y/N’s rant was on full display for the entire studio.

And of course, he was eating it up.

“Aight, aight, damn, Ma. How about this—I’ll take you to Rodeo and let you pick out whatever you want. My treat.”

There was a slight pause on the other end. Then Y/N deadpanned, “You ain’t no Bryson Tiller, Constance. Fuck off.”

I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. That shit was funny, I couldn’t lie.

Connie grinned, “Nah, but for real though—"

"Constance. I will block you.”

Connie gasped dramatically. “That’s crazy, forreal. After everything we been through?"

Y/N scoffed. "Shut up, I’m hanging up."

Then click. She was gone.

Connie stared at his phone for a second, then turned to me with a smug grin. “She’s so mad right now.”

I exhaled, flicking the ash off my blunt. "Yeah, and whose fault is that?"

Connie just shrugged, like he wasn’t the main reason Y/N’s name was trending right now.

Mikasa muttered under her breath, “I hate all of you.”

I laughed. “Nah, you love us.”

She rolled her eyes, and I took another slow pull from my blunt, letting the smoke curl in the air.

Because as much as I wanted to act like this whole thing wasn’t that deep, there was one thing I couldn’t shake.

She still had old pictures of us on her page.

And if she really wanted to forget me?

She would’ve deleted them a long time ago.

I shrugged, flicking the ash off my blunt before taking another slow drag. "Fine. I’ll just pull up on her."

Connie let out a loud, amused snort, shaking his head as he scrolled through his phone. "You really think she gon’ just let you slide back into her life like that? She ain't living at her old address no more, big bro. You outta luck."

I exhaled the smoke, watching it curl into the air before I glanced over at him with a smirk. "Yeah? But her mama gon’ tell me, ‘cause her and my moms still locked in."

Connie’s smirk faltered just a little, eyes squinting at me like he was trying to figure out how serious I was. "Man, you playin’ dirty."

I took another pull and exhaled slow, letting the silence drag between us before I spoke again. "Nah," I muttered, voice low, "I’m just playing smart."

Connie let out a laugh, shaking his head. "Ain’t no way, bro. You really about to spin the block?"

I gave him a look. "You act like you don’t know me."

"Nah, I do. That’s why I know this shit gon’ be messy," Connie said, stretching his arms over his head before tossing his phone onto the couch. "She gon’ make you work for it, though. You know that, right?"

I flicked the blunt in the ashtray, leaning back. "Good."

Connie raised a brow. "Good?"

I nodded once, a slow smirk creeping onto my face. "Yeah. ‘Cause that means she still care."

I sighed, rubbing my temples as the phone rang. I already knew what was coming.

The second my mom picked up, I didn’t even get a chance to say hello before she was on my ass.

"Onyankopon Carter, what the hell is this nonsense I’m hearing about you?"

I pulled the phone away from my ear for a second because—damn—she was yelling. I could hear my little sister cackling in the background, probably the reason this whole thing reached my mom in the first place.

"Ma, chill—"

"Don’t tell me to chill, boy!" she snapped. "You got girls all over the internet lying on your name, then I hear Y/N is back in the picture, and you out here flirting with any and every woman on that damn Instagram Live! Do you know how embarrassing that is? Your little sister had to explain all this to me! You know how dumb I looked tryna keep up?"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "She should’ve minded her damn business."

"Excuse me?" My mom’s voice dropped an octave, and I immediately realized I fucked up.

"Nothing, nothing," I muttered quickly. "Look, Ma, it ain’t even like that. People just talking."

"Oh, so the pictures of you and Y/N arguing outside the studio was fake?"

I clenched my jaw. "We weren’t arguing."

"Oh? ‘Cause it sure looked like y’all were arguing. And from what I hear, Y/N been blowing up since all this mess started. Two hundred thousand followers in one night?"

I ran a hand down my face. "Yeah, I know."

"Mmhmm. And you still think this is ‘just people talking’?"

I didn’t have an answer for that.

She sighed, then her voice softened just a little. "Ony, baby, what are you doing?"

I swallowed, shifting in my seat. "I don’t know."

She clicked her tongue. "Mmm. You do, but you don’t wanna say it out loud yet."

I exhaled, tapping my fingers against my thigh. "Ma, I ain’t call for all this."

"Then why did you call?"

I hesitated, then finally said, "I need Y/N’s number."

Silence.

Then my mom laughed. "Ohhh, so now you need her number? Boy, I told you to stop playing and go get your girl back, but nooo, you wanted to be hard headed!"

I rolled my eyes. "Ma, c’mon."

"Mmm. Nah. You fumbled, you figure it out."

"Ma—"

"Bye, Ony."

The call ended.

I stared at my screen for a second before letting out a low groan.

"Fuck."

The second I put my phone down, I heard it—Connie howling like a damn hyena.

I looked up just in time to see him collapse onto the studio couch, clutching his stomach like this was the funniest shit he ever witnessed in his life.

"NAH, SON—" Connie wheezed between laughter, "YO MAMA COOKED YOU! SHE REALLY HUNG UP ON YOU, BRUH!"

Eren, who had been watching the whole thing, finally cracked and started laughing too, shaking his head. "Damn, that’s crazy."

"‘MA, I NEED Y/N’S NUMBER’—" Connie mocked, clutching his chest. "AND SHE HIT YOU WITH THE ‘BYE, ONY’ LIKE YOU WAS A DAMN TELEMARKETER!"

Eren started laughing even harder. "Telemarketer is wild."

I sat there, gripping my phone so I wouldn’t throw it at Connie’s dumbass head. "Y’all done?"

"Oh, hell no!" Connie wiped a fake tear from his eye. "‘You fumbled, you figure it out’—that’s what your own mama said? Bro, you down bad!"

I sucked my teeth and reached for the blunt on the table. "Fuck both of y’all."

Eren exhaled a laugh, shaking his head while scrolling on his phone. "Damn, even your own moms ain’t on your side."

Connie wiped his nose dramatically. "A tragic sight, really." Then, like he just remembered something, his face lit up. "Oh shit, wait—don’t worry, bro. I’ll text Y/N for you."

I squinted at him. "You gonna send me her number?"

Connie smirked. "Hell no."

I threw a pillow at him. "Dickhead."

He dodged, still grinning. "You gotta work for that, champ."

Eren shook his head, mumbling, "This is about to be some bullshit."

I was about to cuss Connie out again when my phone buzzed in my hand.

Incoming Airdrop: Contact – Y/N L/N

I squinted, looking around. Who the hell—

Then I caught Eren out of the corner of my eye, leaning back in his chair, scrolling through his phone like he wasn’t up to something.

I accepted the Airdrop, and right after, a text came in.

Eren: Cause I know you're solid now.

I glanced up at him, and Eren didn’t even look my way—just exhaled like he wasn’t being messy as hell.

Connie, of course, noticed something was up. He sat forward, eyes narrowed. "Wait… what just happened?"

I pocketed my phone and stood up. "None of your business."

Connie’s eyes widened. "Ayo, nah—E, did you—?"

Eren kept scrolling, smirking. "I ain’t do nothing."

"Lying ass." Connie pointed at me. "And you—don’t be weird with it. Matter fact, gimme your phone—"

I shoved his hand away. "Go play in traffic, nigga."

Connie groaned dramatically, throwing himself back on the couch. "I swear, y’all gon' make me start leaking shit for fun."

I ignored him, unlocking my phone and staring at Y/N’s number.

I had it now.

Now, I just had to figure out what the hell I was gonna say.

I barely had time to react before Connie snatched my phone clean out my hand.

“Before you do some dumb shit,” he said, holding it out of reach, “Imma talk to you as her best friend.”

I was about to cuss him out, but before I could, SMACK!

That nigga slapped me upside my head hard as hell.

“What the fuck, nigga?!” I snapped, rubbing the spot.

Connie shrugged, unbothered. “I owed you that for years.”

Eren let out a low whistle, rocking in his chair. “Damn. You was due for that, lowkey.”

I turned to him. “You supposed to be neutral!”

Eren lifted his hands. “I am neutral. I’m just saying—”

“Shut up.”

Meanwhile, Connie was scrolling through my messages like he paid my phone bill.

“First off, you better not text her on some ‘WYD’ bullshit. I’ll beat your ass myself.”

I scoffed. “Nigga, I ain’t that dumb—”

“Mmm.” Connie didn’t look convinced. “Secondly, you better really think about what you say, cause Y/N? She got a list of grievances longer than the Bible.”

I sighed, rolling my shoulders. “You think I don’t know that?”

Connie looked up at me for a long moment. Then, unexpectedly, his usual teasing expression dropped.

“Nah, but do you really know that, though?”

I clenched my jaw, staying quiet.

Connie nodded like he already knew my answer. “You let her go like she ain’t mean nothing, O.”

My grip tightened into fists.

“She meant something,” I muttered. “She meant everything.”

Connie exhaled through his nose, shaking his head.

“Then fix it.”

I held out my hand. “Gimme my phone.”

Connie hesitated. Then, slowly, he handed it back.

I unlocked the screen.

And I stared at her name.

…What the hell was I supposed to say?

I dropped onto the couch, my head spinning a bit from the chaos of the day. The studio session, the teasing, the live—everything was a blur. And now here I was, home alone, staring at my phone. The screen lit up in the dimly lit living room, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Connie’s words kept echoing in my head: “You better go stop her and talk your shit, bitch ass.”

I rolled my eyes at the thought. That damn man was relentless. But he was right in one thing. I needed to talk to Y/N.

I hadn’t seen her in years, and the shit that went down between us wasn’t something I could just let slide. It wasn’t just the rumors, the flirty IG live, or even the way things ended between us. It was everything—the old feelings, the tension, the shit I never told her.

My fingers hovered over the screen as I opened my messages. I stared at the blank text box for a moment. Part of me wanted to just delete the whole damn thing, forget about it all. But another part of me... I don’t know, another part was tired of pretending.

I finally typed:

“Hey, it’s me. Ony.”

I stared at it for a few seconds, my thumb hovering over the send button. What if she didn't respond? What if she was pissed off? What if this whole thing blew up even worse than before?

I couldn’t take it back now.

With a deep sigh, I hit send. My phone buzzed in my hand, and I swear I felt my heart skip a beat. What the hell was I doing?

Who the fuck is this?

I stared at the message for a second, my face scrunching up in disbelief. "I know u saw I sent my name." I read it again, hoping it would somehow make more sense.

She wasn’t playing games.

My fingers hovered over the phone, debating on how to respond. She didn’t really expect me to just walk away, did she? I wasn’t the type to back down, and damn sure wasn’t going to let some damn text throw me off.

I typed back quickly, determined:

"C'mon Y/N, it's me. Ony. Don’t act like you don’t remember."

I hit send, trying to ignore the creeping doubt. If she wasn’t playing games before, she was now.

A couple of seconds passed, then the message pinged. I stared at it for a second before opening it, heart pounding.

Her reply came through fast:

“I don’t know who that fuck nigga is.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, even though it stung a little. Damn. She was good. But that didn’t scare me. It only made me more sure about reaching out. If I was gonna fix things—or at least get some answers—I had to play it cool.

I quickly fired back:

“Ain’t no need for all that. I’m just tryna talk to you. We need to clear the air, Y/N.”

I didn’t know where this was going. Didn’t know how she was going to react. But I couldn’t let her keep shutting me out. I wasn’t gonna play her game... but I was damn sure gonna make sure she knew I wasn’t backing down.

I stared at the screen for a moment, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. She dropped her location and bluntly said, "I ain’t doing this via text."

I couldn’t help the grin that crept up on my face. She was still as stubborn as ever. I’d been waiting for her to hit me with something like that, and honestly, I respected it. It wasn’t gonna be easy getting through her walls, but if I had to show up and prove I was serious, then so be it.

I typed back quickly, keeping it simple:

“Alright, I’m on my way.”

There was no backing out now. This was it. I knew I had to face whatever came next—whatever anger or hurt or whatever else she had built up from all these years. And damn, I was ready for it.

I put my phone down and grabbed my jacket, the weight of everything starting to settle in my chest. She wasn’t just going to forgive me; I knew that. But this—this was the first step in trying to make things right. If she even let me get that close.

As I left the studio, the night air hit me, cool and biting, and I knew I wasn’t gonna walk into this unscathed. I just hoped she could see I was trying.

I pulled up about an hour later, my heart pounding a little faster with each step toward her door. When she opened it, I had to take a second to process just how damn good she looked standing there. The sun had long set, but she had this glow to her, like she’d been waiting for something... or someone.

Fuck, I almost forgot how well she filled out a pair of shorts. I couldn’t help but let my eyes trail down her figure, and I caught myself before I did something stupid.

“Burnt orange is still your color,” I said, voice a little rougher than I meant it to be. The words felt natural, like I had said them a thousand times before, and I honestly didn’t realize how much I missed just being around her until that moment.

I almost reached out to grab her ass instinctively—old habits die hard—but I pulled my hand back before it even made it halfway. I could feel the tension between us, the space that used to be so familiar now felt like a void, one I wasn’t sure I could bridge with just a few words.

Instead, I raised my hand higher, offering her a hug. The moment stretched, and I couldn’t tell if she was going to step forward or shut the door in my face.

She stood there, staring at me for a beat too long, like she was making some kind of decision. But, finally, she stepped in close, arms still crossed over her chest. She smelled like whatever soap she used, and for a second, I let myself breathe it in—something familiar, something I’d almost forgotten about.

“You here to talk, or you just wanna stand there, looking all lost?” she said, her voice clipped, but there was a softness to it that made my chest tighten.

“I’m here to talk,” I replied, my voice steady, but my hands felt like they were trembling with nerves I hadn't expected.

She stepped back, finally letting me in. As I crossed the threshold, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a bad idea... but then again, I’d never really been good at listening to my own advice.

Now, it was all up to me to see where this would go.

As soon as I stepped inside, the door clicked shut behind me, and I immediately felt the weight of everything we hadn’t said hanging in the air.

Y/N didn’t waste time. The moment I was in the door, she hit me with that sharp gaze, eyes full of frustration, like she’d been rehearsing what she wanted to say for days.

“So, what? You just show up now?” she snapped, her tone colder than I expected. “After all the shit you’ve pulled, now you want to have a conversation? You think you can just walk back into my life like nothing happened?”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. I knew what she was saying was right. I knew I had fucked up. But damn, hearing it out loud from her stung in a way I hadn’t prepared for.

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to find the words, but the truth was, there were no easy answers. “I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for... any of this,” I said, voice strained. “I was out of my mind. I fucked up, alright? But I’m here now, trying to fix it. Trying to do better.”

“Fix it?” She scoffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, her eyes narrowing. “You think showing up here makes up for the fact that you disappeared on me without a word? That you let me go like I was some kind of afterthought?”

She was pacing now, her words coming faster, sharper. I could tell she wasn’t even looking for an apology anymore—she was just mad, and rightfully so.

“I put up with your bullshit for too long, Ony. I believed you, trusted you, and you... you just turned your back on me like I didn’t matter.”

Her words were like daggers, each one a reminder of how badly I fucked up. The anger, the hurt—it was all pouring out of her in waves.

I couldn’t help it—I took a step forward, trying to meet her gaze. “I didn’t want to let you go. I never wanted that,” I said, voice a little quieter now. “I was just... scared. I didn’t know how to handle what I was feeling. So I pushed you away. And I fucked up.”

She stopped pacing, standing still for a moment, staring at me like she was trying to figure out if I was being real or if I was just giving her the same old song and dance. The silence stretched between us, heavy, before she finally spoke again.

“You really think you can fix this just by showing up and saying you fucked up? You’re out of your mind, Ony.”

I could feel the heat in my chest rise, frustration boiling over. “I’m not asking you to forgive me overnight, but damn, can I at least try?”

“You think trying is enough? After everything you’ve put me through?” She shook her head, letting out a bitter laugh. “Connie was right. You have a lot of nerve, showing up now and expecting me to just forget about all the shit you did. You don’t get to just waltz back in and act like you didn’t break me.”

Her words were like a punch to the gut, and I could see the hurt in her eyes. The walls she built around herself—the ones I helped put up—were so high now that I didn’t know how to get past them.

But I wasn’t backing down. Not this time.

“I get it. I fucked up. I know I did,” I said, voice steady, though the pain was there, too. “But I’m here now, and I want to make it right. I can’t change the past, but I’m trying to change what happens next. So, tell me what it’s gonna take to show you that I’m serious.”

She stared at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine like she was looking for something—some sign that I wasn’t just playing her. And maybe I wasn’t. Maybe this time, I was really trying.

But I knew that what I’d done to her, the way I’d walked away without looking back, was unforgivable.

Y/N didn’t say anything for a while, just standing there, the tension in the room thick between us.

And then she finally spoke, her voice low but sharp.

“You want to fix this?” She stepped closer, her gaze unwavering. “Then prove it. You want to talk? Show me you’re not just another sorry ass player who thinks he can come back and fix everything with a few words. Show me that you care.”

Her words hit like a ton of bricks, but for once, I didn’t look away. I was ready to do whatever it took to make this right. Whatever it took to get back to her.

Of course, we spent the next hour or so arguing.

I don’t even know how it escalated so fast, but before I knew it, we were going back and forth, each of us taking turns throwing barbs and accusations like it was a game. It wasn’t, though. It was real, raw, and messy—and deep down, I knew we were both just trying to deal with the aftermath of everything we hadn’t said to each other in years.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Y/N said, her voice strained, hands clenched at her sides. “You think you can just come in here with your ‘I messed up’ routine and that’s supposed to fix everything? You think because you show up with a couple of ‘I’m sorrys,’ it’ll all be okay?”

I rubbed my face, frustrated with myself but more frustrated at how easily she could twist my words. “No. It’s not about the words, Y/N. I’m not asking for forgiveness in one day. But damn, can you at least see that I’m trying?” My voice was rising now, that old fire flaring up in me, a mixture of anger, guilt, and regret.

“Trying?!” she snapped, her laugh bitter. “Trying is the bare minimum. You didn’t even show up for me when I needed you, Ony. You think that after all this time, I’m just supposed to drop everything because you want to try now? You left me hanging, made me feel like I didn’t matter, and now you want me to believe it’s different?”

Each word she threw at me landed harder than the last, but I wasn’t going to back down. “I know I fucked up. I know I can’t just expect you to forget what happened. I’m not asking for that, but I’m here now. And I want to fix things. So what do you want from me? You want me to keep apologizing, or do you actually want me to show you that I’m serious?”

She stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as if weighing my words. “I don’t need your apologies, Ony. I need you to actually show up. To actually be here. To prove you give a damn.”

We both fell silent for a second, the tension thick in the air. Neither of us was backing down, but neither of us knew how to bridge the gap that had opened between us all those years ago.

“Then let me prove it,” I said quietly, the words slipping out before I even had time to think about them. “Let me show you, Y/N. I can’t take back what I did, but I’ll be here now. I’ll be here for you.”

She didn’t respond at first, just standing there with her arms crossed. The anger in her expression hadn’t fully melted away, but I saw something in her eyes—a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t the same guy who’d walked out on her all those years ago.

“You better not be lying to me,” she finally said, her voice low, but there was a vulnerability there now. “Because if you are, I won’t give you a second chance.”

I nodded, meeting her gaze. “I won’t lie to you, Y/N. Not again. I swear.”

She took a deep breath, clearly still processing everything. But there was a shift, a subtle change in the air that told me we were getting somewhere—slowly, but surely.

The tension between us wasn’t gone, but for the first time in a long time, I felt like there was a chance. A real chance.

But damn, if this was going to work, I knew I had a lot of work to do. And I couldn’t afford to mess up again.

“Alright,” she said, still eyeing me like I was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out. “Let’s see if you actually mean what you’re saying. Because I’m not going to make this easy for you.”

I couldn’t help but smirk a little, though it was a strained one. “You wouldn’t want it any other way.”

She rolled her eyes, but I saw the faintest hint of a smile tug at the corner of her lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the end. Maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something else.

I stood there for a moment, feeling the weight of the words I hadn’t let myself say for years. The silence between us stretched longer than I wanted it to, but when I finally spoke again, it was almost like the floodgates had opened.

“I missed you, Y/N,” I said, my voice quieter this time, more vulnerable than it had been in years. “It’s been years, and no one’s captured my heart like you did. I’m not saying I’ve been waiting around or whatever… but damn, I missed you more than I ever thought I would.”

The words hung between us, heavy and real. I watched her expression shift, the anger and frustration starting to fade just a little. I wasn’t expecting her to fall into my arms or anything—this wasn’t some movie moment. But seeing her soften just a little bit, like she was hearing me for the first time in a long time, made me feel like maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t too late.

She didn’t say anything right away, just took a step back and looked at me, like she was trying to read me. Her gaze softened, but I saw that wall still up, as high as ever.

“You really mean that, huh?” she asked, her voice still sharp, but there was something else in it now—curiosity, maybe. “Because words are one thing, Ony. But actions? Actions speak louder than anything.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath. “I know. I know it’s not enough just to say it. But you’ve gotta believe me, Y/N. I’m here now, for real. And I’m gonna show you—actions, not just words.”

She studied me for a moment longer, then let out a sigh, crossing her arms. “You better be serious this time. Because I won’t keep giving you chances.”

I could feel the tension between us still, but it wasn’t as heavy as before. There was something new there—something that felt like the start of something different. Maybe I couldn’t fix everything in one conversation, but I knew I was done running.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’ll show you. I won’t mess this up again. Not this time.”

For a brief second, she just looked at me. Then, finally, her lips curved into a small smile—one that didn’t erase the pain, but showed that there was still a flicker of something, even if it was small.

“We’ll see,” she said, her voice quieter now, a little softer. “We’ll see, Ony.”

And for the first time in a long time, I felt like there was hope.

[joonjuul]

workplace. pjm

pairing: ceo!jimin x assistant!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: dom!jimin, mean!jimin, virgin!reader, noncon, coercion, light fingering (f receiving), light blood, crying, desk sex, jimin is a complete asshole

a/n: this is barely edited so good luck (ps thank you for all the love on my last fic! reqs are open id love to write some stuff yall wanna read :3

╋━

you feel your fingers begin to cramp as you finish sending what feels like your 100th email of the day. staring at the computer screen as your eyes blur from sensitivity.

you can’t help the sigh that escapes your lips as you allow your face to fall into your hands. it was the busiest time of the year at your company, and you were struggling to keep up with all the side jobs your boss was giving you. it felt like every two seconds there was a new request in your inbox, only piling on top of the ones you still had yet to accomplish.

park jimin was hard on you, that was evident. you understood what you were getting into when you accepted the job, but you never could’ve prepared yourself for how hard on you he really was. everyone told you to decline his position offer, but you were in no place to pass up work, especially not with the salary he was giving you. but now you were starting to regret your choices.

just as you thought you were beginning to regain your composure, you hear that familiar notification sound, pulling you away from your thoughts.

1 new message in your inbox.

what could he possibly want now? haven’t you done enough already? the day had barely started and you felt like you were already exhausted enough to go home.

you couldn’t help the rage that filled you, almost like your efforts to him meant nothing. he never praised you nor complimented you for your hard work to him and the company, only coldly filled your inbox with new things to be completed. you had had enough of this torturous cycle.

-

you took a deep breath as you stood before the office door. although it was shut, you could still feel his presence through the walls. he was so intimidating, you couldn’t believe you were actually going to stand up to him, but you couldn’t handle it anymore. you were his assistant, not his bitch.

you felt the cold metal pang against your knuckles as you melodically knocked on the door, waiting for a signal to enter.

“yes?”

his voice sent a shiver down your spine. he didn’t sound happy, but then again, he never sounded happy. always so distant, locked up in his office like a hermit. he should try doing your job for a day.

you felt your hand turn the knob unconsciously as the door swung open gently. his presence now unmistakable as he sat proudly at his desk. he wasn’t cocky, or egotistical, he was almost… emotionless, like a robot that had no feelings for anything except the success of his latest business endeavor.

you stood before him, feeling the cold air of his office brush against your bare thighs, suddenly aware of how short your skirt was. you felt out of place standing before him, you probably hadn’t spoken to him directly since the interview that had you hired months prior.

“can i help you?” his voice rang again, your heart only beating faster. did he even know your name?

“sorry to bother you, sir. i was just hoping i could speak to you about something really fast.” all confidence that you had earlier was now gone seeing him sat before you. it was almost as if you weren’t a human being to him, just a pawn to ensure his work runs smoothly.

he signaled to the chair in front of his desk, allowing you to sit, his eyes never wavering from his computer screen. what was so important that he couldn’t have a conversation with you like a normal human?

nonetheless, you felt your feet carry you to the chair before him, carefully sitting down and quickly crossing your legs as not to expose too much of your upper thighs. not that he would notice anyway.

you sat in silence for a moment, waiting for him to make eye contact with you or start the conversation, but he never did.

you clear your throat gently, trying to gain the strength to speak.

“well, sir. i feel like sometimes with this job, i know that it’s the busiest time of the year, and that i’m supposed to complete any assignment you give me, but sometimes it feels although, not that you do it on purpose but-“

“spit it out.” his words are harsh, cutting you off, but his eyes still haven’t acknowledged your presence.

you clear your throat again, feeling slightly worse knowing he probably doesn’t care much about what you have to say.

“i’m just feeling very overwhelmed with the amount of work you’ve been giving me lately, sir.” you didn’t want to come off strong or demanding, but you’re starting to lose your patience.

you watch as his typing stops, his eyes finally looking up at you but now you wish they never had. his gaze is intense, and not in a way that’s professional, but in a way that’s hurtful. he looks… mean.

“is this job too much for you, y/n?” his voice is calm, emotionless as his eyes stay fixated on yours trying to gauge your reaction.

you shake your head no quickly, realizing the position you’ve just put yourself in. you couldn’t lose this job.

“n-no sir. not at all. i just feel like-“

“because i can easily find someone who can handle the workload this position requires.” he cuts you off again, leaning back in his chair to look at you intensely.

you gulp, not really knowing how to respond.

“i-i can assure you sir im more than capable-“

“are you? because it doesn’t seem like it.” he crossed his hands on his lap as he speaks. how can he be so cold? it’s not like you were asking him to stop giving you work. you just needed at least some more time in between assignments.

“i’m sorry, sir that was never my intention.” your gaze falls down to your lap, feeling so small, like nothing you say matters.

you hear him begin to move from his chair as he stands up and approaches you. his eyes watching you carefully, scanning from your face, to your collarbones, all the way down to your legs and back. he smirks slightly, the first time you think you’ve seen him display a tinge of emotion as he moves to where he’s standing behind you, gently placing a hand on your shoulder.

“you’re a good employee, y/n”

you’re shocked at his words. “i-i am?”

you look up from your lap and turn your head to see him standing behind you, a small smile on his face as he nods his head reassuringly.

“absolutely. best assistant i’ve ever had.”

you feel your cheeks heat up. he’s never praised or complimented your work before. it almost feels like a major accomplishment in your career.

“well thank you, sir.” you smile up at him, but watch as his disappears. his face now just as cold as it was when you first walked in the door.

“is that what you wanted to hear? you wanted me to tell you you’re doing a good job?” he begins to move his position so he’s standing in front of you, leaning against the desk as he watches your face change in confusion.

“i mean, it’s nice to hear every once and a while.”

“well i’m not nice, y/n.” your ears begin to ring at his words, now becoming more and more anxious in his presence. why was he being like this?

“i’m sorry, sir i don’t understand-“

“you’re here to do a job, y/n. i give you assignments, and you complete them. is that too much for your little brain to handle?” his words are like knives as you feel your eyes begin to water slightly as his voice raises in volume. he wasn’t yelling, he was still calm, however obviously frustrated with you.

you sit in silence, your gaze returning to your lap as you feel too cowardly to even respond.

“nothing to say now, hmm?” he says again coldly, almost mocking your state. you continue to look in your lap, avoiding his intense stare at all costs.

you feel your heart drop as he reaches a hand out to your chin, gripping it slightly to look up at him.

“you want to please me, don’t you y/n?” his eyes are glaring at you, his words harsh and his face emotionless as he awaits for your response.

“y-yes sir.” you clench your thighs together at his words, afraid he might be able to see too much of you from the close proximity. he looks down at your legs, noticing the slight movement and smirks as his eyes return back to yours.

“now you can either please me, or i’ll find someone else that can.” his fingers begin to grip on your chin tighter, almost until it becomes painful.

you look up at him confused, not sure what he means. “i’m sorry sir, i’m not understanding.”

he releases his grip on your chin, rolling his eyes as he leans down, his hand now grazing your inner thigh. you feel your stomach drop as you realize now what he was implying. you had no intention of sleeping with park jimin, he was your boss, and as much as you could appreciate his attractiveness, you were a modest girl, and held your virginity very close to your heart. you promised yourself as a young girl that you would prioritize yourself and respect not only your body but your future husband.

“do you want to keep your job, y/n?” you feel goosebumps arise on your skin as his fingers begin to trail up higher and higher. you hate the way your body’s reacting, and internally scold yourself for being so sensitive to touch, having not received much of it in your life thus far.

you gain as much confidence as you possibly can as you look up at him, his eyes dark and taunting.

“i hope you’re not implying what i think you’re implying, sir.” your voice comes out shakier than you had anticipated, and you watch as your boss only chuckles lowly in response.

“i guess that depends on whether or not you want to keep your job, sweetheart.” he pulls his hand away from your thigh and returns to his original position behind his desk. sitting down cockily as he begins to pick up where he left off on his computer.

you’re shocked at his behavior. you never would’ve imagined that a man as professional as him would create such an uncomfortable work environment for a young girl like you just setting out on her career.

if you thought you had felt rage earlier, you were wrong. you sprung up from your seat and stormed behind his desk. “you can’t do this.”

he stops his typing and turns in his chair to face you, a sly grin plastered across his face.

“of course i can, sweetheart. i own the company.”

you feel defeated. how is it that you ended up in this position? all you wanted was a break from all the work he piles on top of you. you were only one person, and now he was treating you like you were nothing more than an office slut to be used by him whenever he felt like it. you were not about to let that slide.

“you don’t deserve to run a company if you’re going to do so by using fear.” you felt the words leave your mouth before you even had a chance to process them. watching as his sly grin turned into a cocky smile. he sat up in his chair just enough so he was able to reach out and wrap a hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

you feel your breath hitch in your throat at the sudden contact, and watch as his hand that was once around your waist slides down to the inside of your thigh once more.

“sweetheart, fear is how you get things done.” he looks up at you tauntingly as he brings his hand higher and higher up your thigh, only inches away from your most sacred area.

you feel your legs begin to tremble slightly, both in fear and sensitivity. you hate how your body was reacting to his touch, but you couldn’t help it. you didn’t want to have sex with him but after being celibate your whole life, your body had a mind of its own.

“stop touching me.” your voice is breathy and unstable, only spurring him on more.

he brings his hand up even higher between your legs, gently grazing against your clothed core. “should i? i mean it looks like you’re enjoying it. you don’t have to fake it, y/n, we both know you want this.” you freeze up as you feel his finger move towards the side of your underwear, pushing the seam to the side as he begins to push a finger towards your sopping hole.

you quickly snap yourself back to reality and push his hand away. you hated being pushed around, and you weren’t about to let him get away with it.

“i said stop.” you watch as the smile drops from his face completely, leaving behind something that’s not cold or emotionless like before, but mad.

you’re barely able to catch your breath before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and bending you over his desk in one fell swoop.

your heart stops for a moment, realizing now what you’ve done. he wasn’t asking you for permission, he was telling you, and now he was going to take it whether you liked it or not. you feel your heart fall deeper into your stomach, your body doing anything it can to wriggle out of his hold but it’s no use. he has you pinned against his desk, and there’s no denying how much stronger he was than you.

you feel your eyes start to well up as he brings his hands up your skirt, quickly tearing off your underwear and ignoring your gentle pleas.

“i gave you a choice, y/n. you did this to yourself.” his words induce a panic in you that you’ve never felt before, his presence behind you scaring you in ways that will stay for the rest of your life. you try to use your hands to push him away from you, but without being able to see him, you’re quickly overpowered as he gathers your hands with one of his own.

you feel a tear start to fall down your cheek as he brings a hand up to your cunt, your slick only pooling up more at his earlier ministrations.

“look at you, y/n. and you mean to tell me you don’t want this?” his voice is calm and collected as he begins prodding at your untouched hole. you curse yourself for even entering his office in the first place. you should’ve known better. but all you could do now was accept your fate.

you bury your head into his desk as he enters a finger into your throbbing cunt, your body only reacting more at the new unfamiliar sensation. you had touched yourself before sure, but never like this, and never by someone else. you feel your stomach flutter as one finger turns into two, stretching you out more than you even thought was possible.

“god you’re a tight little thing. i knew you would be when i first saw you. i’ve been waiting to see you bent over my desk like this. feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers into your ear, and you can’t deny the tingling that you begin to feel in between your legs.

you don’t respond to him, and do everything you can to control the moans that are begging to fall from your mouth. you feel dirty, disgusting, everything you’ve held close to your heart is falling away, something you’ve been waiting for patiently is now being stolen from you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.

he notices your lack of response and slowly removes his fingers from your dripping cunt, your juices now spread down your thighs as he looks down at your fingers and sees a tinge of red between them.

“that time of the month, huh?” he questions, reaching over your head to retrieve a tissue from off his desk.

you lay there, emotionless, only able to muster up a slight shake of your head as you feel another tear roll down your cheek.

he quirks an eyebrow, noting your reaction.

“well you’re bleeding, y/n.” he continues to wipe his fingers, seeing the red tinge transfer from his skin to the blank canvas, now stained with your juices.

“i’m a virgin.” you say coldly, your body tired from fighting and simply laying still on his desk.

jimin stops in his tracks for a moment before throwing the tissue into the trash can next to the desk. his eyes tracing your figure almost as if he doesn’t believe you.

“a virgin, huh?” he mutters under his breath, releasing your hands from behind your back only to duck beneath you so he’s eye level with your soaking cunt. he watches as your hole tightens and closes occasionally, feeling his pants get tighter at the thought of defiling you on his desk right there and now.

he brings his head back up from beneath you, and brings his hands to your waist, stroking it gently as he watches you flinch under his touch.

“i’m not sure if i believe you, sweetheart.” his touch is gentle, only making your stomach flutter more, you curse yourself silently for being so easily pleased.

“you don’t have to believe me, it’s the truth.” jimin admires the sight before him, how wet you were for him and only him, your body crumpling under his hold, all the dirty disgusting things he could do to you before you realize that he’s the only one that could ever make you feel this way.

he feels a pang of sympathy. although he always gets what he wants, that doesn’t mean he has to deny you of what you want at the same time, and although you might deny it, he knows you want nothing more than to feel what it’s like to give yourself up to someone completely.

he quickly places his hands on your waist, turning you around to face him but keeping you laid on the desk.

standing between your legs, he brings his hand back down to the inside of your thigh, running it up your leg gently and watching as you shake harder. out of fear or sensitivity, he couldn’t tell, but he carefully brings a single finger back up to your dripping cunt, running it along your folds and watching as you wiggle your bottom half slightly in response, your skirt only hiking up further around your waist.

he smirks to himself, knowing that deep down you’re a corrupted dirty slut who wants to be treated like this.

he begins to circle your clit, his touch light and sweet as you bite your lip to keep quiet. how could something so wrong feel so right?

your breathing is heavy as you feel a knot form in your stomach, your hips swaying in turn with his fingers to create more friction, and jimin just watches as the girl who was so keen on being a virgin is slowly starting to come undone from his touch alone.

“see that wasn’t too hard now, was it?” his words are taunting, devilish, but you couldn’t deny how they made you feel, how he made you feel.

you want to tell him to shut up, you want to push him away, but every muscle in your body is begging for him to keep going, begging to defile you and use you.

he watches as you quickly become a needy mess. slick dripping down his fingers as you ride them greedily, signaling you were close. virgins got close so quickly. your face contorting and your bitten lip stifling your moans, you didn’t have to tell him that the knot in your stomach was close to releasing, he could see it written all over your body.

but not until he quickly removes his fingers from between your legs, watching as your legs begin to shake harder now, but still, you stay silent, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing you were enjoying this.

“what? were you close, sweetheart?” he leans above you watching as the only response you can muster is a slight shake of the head, your cheeks burning up, hair sticking to your face.

“good. wouldn’t want to ruin the fun now would we?” his voice is so mean yet so sweet at the same time, as he brings his hands to his belt and begins to undo it slowly, watching as your eyes widen in nervousness.

you feel panicked, you knew it was going to happen eventually but like this? was it wrong that you wanted it? you watch carefully as he pulls his pants and boxers down in one fell swoop, his cock springing out between the two of you. he was so big.

how would he even fit? you heard it always hurts the first time but you never imagined a cock could look like that. your mind was racing with a million questions, and jimin ignored every last one of them, taking his position between you and aligning himself with your entrance.

“nervous?” he prods his cock at your hole gently, but doesn’t put it in, seemingly testing the waters as he looks up at you. if you didn’t know better you would’ve thought he looked concerned.

you shake your head no, still not able to formulate an audible response.

“good.” and with that final word he plunges into you deeply, giving you no time to adjust. you’re unable to contain the scream that leaves your throat as he bottoms out inside of you, your upper half flying forward towards him to seek any type of comfort, or even to find something to hold onto, but you’re only met with his hand on your chest pushing you back down on the desk.

he places a hand on your mouth, and uses his other to wrap your legs around his waist, leaning forward as he begins to thrust into you hard.

“shut up and take it, you did this to yourself.” his speed is unimaginable, you feel like you’re going to rip in half the pain is almost too much to bare. how could this be pleasurable for anyone? you feel a tear starting to roll down your cheek as he picks up the pace, his hand on your mouth being the only thing keeping you from screaming bloody murder.

jimin removes his hands from your leg and mouth and brings them down to your hips, pushing you down harder onto his cock as he begins rolling his hips into yours.

and then, something happens. you let out a moan. you feel it fall across your lips before you have time to stop yourself. something felt good. you look down between the two of you and watch as he rolls his hips into yours, his cock hitting something inside you deliciously with every single thrust.

“what? feel good all of a sudden?” he taunts, watching your confused expression as you try to figure out what it is your experiencing. what was this feeling? what was he hitting inside of you to make you feel like this? and all at the same time, you feel that knot building in your stomach again.

you let out a small moan, your hands reaching out to his hips to stabilize yourself, suddenly feeling overwhelmed.

jimin quickly notices your response and grins, quickening his pace and bringing one hand down to circle your clit gently.

“feels good, doesn’t it sweetheart?” his voice is dripping with sex, the tension in your abdomen only getting worse with his words. he begins to fuck you harder in response, rolling his hips deeper and deeper.

you moan again, suddenly gaining some of your confidence back. “yes, fuck. it does.”

jimin grins at your response, continuing his ministrations on your tiny clit as he watches you become a writhing mess beneath him. but he can only keep himself in control for so long. every part of him wants to tear at your skin and pull your hair, but something in him is going easy on you.

you feel yourself getting closer and closer to your release, moving your hips in response to his, matching his movements as best as you can, but you’re so close you barely know how to think.

“cum for me angel. show me how dirty you can be.” and with that, you’re seeing stars. it felt entirely different than when you did it yourself, something in you blacked out, you couldn’t hear or see, all you knew was that he felt better than you could’ve even imagined.

jimin watched as you creamed on his cock, your walls tightening around him and only spurring him on more, you were so tight now he could barely move, but he kept up his pace, maybe even harder than before as he watched you squirm under him.

“that’s right good girl.” the praises roll off his tongue as he glides a hand down your chest, watching your body shake and shiver under his touch. he could get used to seeing you like this.

you come down, feeling exhausted and warn out, watching as jimin’s pace quickens, his breathing harsh as grips onto your hips tighter, almost tight enough to leave bruises.

“fuck you feel so good.” he buries his head into your neck, biting and licking any piece of skin he can find as he feels himself getting closer to the edge. his hips never once stalling as he fucks you harder than he’s ever fucked anyone before.

you’ve never seen a man get like this, especially not jimin, he looked so human, so raw. his neck sticky, hair damp, face flushed and lips swollen from biting them. he looked… human.

you admire the sight before you as he takes one final plunge, filling you up with everything he has to offer. if you felt dirty before you weren’t prepared for the feeling of jimin pulling out of you, admiring his seed spill from your cunt, your walls throbbing from the overstimulation.

you both look at each other for a moment, unsure of what to say or what to do. all you knew now was that the workplace was going to be different.

jimin reaches over you to the tissues on the desk and begins cleaning you and himself up, the tension filling the room as you both awkwardly recover from your intense interaction.

it’s not until you stand up from his desk and lose your footing, forcing him to lean in and catch you, that you share a normal exchange for the first time all day.

“your legs are gonna be sore for a while.” he mutters, allowing you to stand on your own as you regain your composure.

“yeah among other things.” you say quietly, putting your underwear back on and fixing your skirt, you watch as jimin’s eyes dance once last time over your figure, before you clear your throats and find an excuse to get back to work.

“i should probably get going, i have a lot to get done.” you say quickly, fumbling towards the door.

“yeah.” jimin sits down again at his desk, now messy looking at the random patches of wetness scattered across his important documents and his computer almost falling off.

he looks up at you as you walk towards the door, legs still shaking slightly, and he grins to himself.

“y/n, i’ll give you a break with those assignments. take your lunch early today, okay?” his voice is gentle, making you turn around to face him before leaving the room completely.

“thanks.”

[paigesluver]

for me? | chapter_1

paige bueckers x fem reader

synopsis; you and paige share unspoken feelings for each other, resulting in an escalating tension that complicates your friendship and challenges your emotions

warnings; sexual tension, emotional conflict

hi hi! this is the first chapter and it took me so long to be happy with the outcome. i hope everyone enjoys it and let me know what you think!

prologue

Waking up at eight in the morning was part of your daily routine. As the director of the media team at UConn, you had a lot on your plate: ensuring everyone had their assignments for upcoming practices and games, approving various media, scheduling everything meticulously, and preparing for interviews and conferences. You loved the hustle. At just twenty-three, you were already one of the most dedicated directors, a title you’d earned after starting out as an interviewer and photographer.

After finishing your morning routine, you laced up your shoes, grabbed your keys, and tossed your laptop into your backpack. You gave your apartment a quick glance before locking the door and heading to your car. 

A few minutes later, you pulled into the parking lot of the basketball facility, you slid on your headphones and grabbed your key card to enter the building. Typically, you were the first one in, but as you passed the basketball court, you heard the unmistakable sound of squeaking sneakers. Curious, you paused and spotted a blonde ponytail in motion. You walked backward until you reached the glass windows, peering inside. There she was—Paige Bueckers, effortlessly sinking shots from way beyond the three-point line with the kind of ease most people could only dream of.

You walked back to the nearest door, slipped inside, and made your way to the court. As you approached, Paige’s voice rang out. “I was wondering when you’d show up,” she said, watching the ball swoosh through the net before turning to face you. 

“How did you even know it was me?” you asked, tilting your head with a smile. 

“You’re the only one crazy enough to be here this early,” she said, chuckling. “And look who’s here.” She pointed at you with a smirk. 

“You’re here, aren’t you?” you shot back. “Touche,” Paige said while you laughed, shaking your head as you jogged over to meet her. “You really have a thing for calling me out.”

Paige shrugged, giving you a playful wink. “Hey, someone has to keep you on your toes.”

You exchanged a quick dap, but before you could fully pull away, Paige wrapped her arms around your waist in a sudden hug. The warmth of her caught you off guard, and for a second, you just stood there, soaking it in.

“I missed you,” she said, her voice quieter than usual, though still full of that familiar playfulness.

You chuckled softly. “Alright, you got me. I missed you too.”

She pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, her mischievous grin back in place. “So, what’s the plan? Are you ready to show me up on the court, or are you just going to stand around being all cute?”

You glanced down at your watch. “As much as I’d love to stay and shoot hoops with you, I’ve got a million things to do today.”

“Right,” Paige said with an exaggerated eye roll. “The director’s got to direct. You’ve got all that important work to do, don’t you?”

“I do,” you said, feigning seriousness. “But don’t worry, I’ll make it back later. Might even grab some footage of you practicing... just because.”

Paige raised an eyebrow and shot you a teasing look. “Oh, so I’m your muse now? Better get my best side.”

“Always,” you replied with a smirk. “But honestly, every side’s the best side.”

She laughed, tossing her head back, her ponytail swaying. “Smooth talker. Alright, director, go do your thing or whatever.”

You waved as you turned to head out. “I’ll be back. Don’t miss me too much.”

As you walked toward your office, the light in your chest made it hard to wipe the grin off your face. Not just because of the work that lay ahead, but because you’d been lucky enough to get a little piece of something special every time you spent time with Paige.

You settled into your office, finally diving into the mountain of emails that had piled up overnight. The routine of work—scheduling, approving media, prepping for upcoming games—helped keep your mind from wandering too much. You focused on the tasks at hand, pushing away any stray thoughts of the court, of Paige, of the way her laugh echoed in your mind long after she was gone.

The hours passed, and your stomach rumbled around noon, reminding you that you’d barely eaten. You grabbed a protein bar from your drawer and got back to work, responding to emails and crossing off one to-do after another. Between finalizing the schedule for an upcoming game and reviewing media coverage, you barely noticed the time slipping by.

Around 2 p.m., your phone buzzed on the desk. You reached for it absently, expecting another work-related message. Instead, it was a text from Kaia: hey, want to hang out tonight? maybe grab dinner or watch something?

You stared at the message for a long moment, your finger hovering over the screen. Kaia had been sweet to you, and you liked her—really liked her—but things had felt different since that night at the bar. That night with Paige. The tension that had simmered between you two, that casual teasing... it had unsettled you in a way you hadn’t expected.

You couldn’t deny it any longer: something was shifting between you and Paige, and you couldn’t ignore it. And yet, here was Kaia, reaching out with the kind of ease you wished you could feel.

But you knew you couldn’t go out with her tonight—not with the feelings you were trying to suppress, not with the way your mind kept circling back to Paige. You didn’t want to lead Kaia on when your heart wasn’t entirely in it. And you definitely didn’t want to be unfair to her. She deserves someone who could give her their full attention, not someone who was tangled up in confusion.

You set the phone down without replying, forcing yourself to focus back on the work in front of you. But the knot in your stomach remained. You weren’t sure if it was guilt for ignoring Kaia’s invitation or the unresolved tension that still lingered in your chest every time you thought about Paige.

The clock ticked on, and you tried to push both thoughts aside as you finished up the last of your tasks. Just as you were about to close your laptop, your door creaked open.

"Hey, director," Paige’s voice called out, light and familiar. You looked up, and there she was, leaning against the doorframe with that grin of hers—the one that always made your pulse pick up a little too fast.

“Busy?” she asked, arching an eyebrow as she stepped inside.

You smiled, leaning back in your chair. "Not at the moment. What’s up?"

Paige walked further into the room, the scent of something delicious filling the air as she set the bag down on your desk. “Thought I’d check in on you. And, y’know, bring you something to eat. You’ve been working through lunch again, haven’t you?”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Too late, already did,” Paige grinned, pulling out a Caesar salad wrap, crispy fries, and your favorite passion fruit juice. “You’ve been stuck here all morning, so I thought you could use a little pick-me-up.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. “This is very sweet of you P, I was just starting to get hungry.”

“Figured as much,” she said, flopping down in the chair across from you. “I’ve been keeping an eye on you, making sure you don’t work yourself into the ground.”

You laughed, opening the bag and grabbing the wrap. “You’re spoiling me now, my favorite from Gansett’s? How’d you know?”

Paige leaned back, resting her arms behind her head casually. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, you think I wouldn’t know where one of your favorite meals is from?”

“Not a lot of people pay attention to things like that” You laughed, shaking your head.

Paige’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Well good thing I’m not just anybody.”

You felt a strange flutter at her words, a mix of admiration and something else that was harder to pin down. She wasn’t wrong—she had a way of making you feel like she really saw you, and that made you feel… something more than just friends. You quickly brushed the thought aside, not sure you were ready to unpack it.

Paige laughed, but this time it was softer, like she caught the shift in the air between you two. She held your gaze a moment longer, her expression a little more serious than usual. “So… you’re still sticking to that ‘all work, no play’ routine? No chance of you coming out and having some fun tonight?”

You paused, considering. There it was again, that casual invitation. The kind of offer you would normally take without thinking. But with everything that was swirling inside you—feelings you couldn’t even begin to sort through—you couldn’t bring yourself to say yes.

“Actually, I was supposed to meet up with Kaia later,” you said, the words slipping out before you could stop them. A flicker of guilt washed over you. You hadn’t really planned anything with Kaia—you’d just ignored her text earlier. “But, uh, I think I’m going to go meet her after all. Just need to get out for a bit.”

Paige gave you a long look, her brow furrowing slightly. “Oh yeah? That’s a change. Haven’t seen you take a break in forever.”

You shrugged, trying to sound casual. “Yeah, figured I could use one.”

Paige didn’t press it, but the air between you felt a little heavier. She stood up, brushing off the hem of her hoodie, and gave you a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, don’t let me keep you. But if you ever want to ditch the routine, you know where to find me.”

"Thanks," you said, your voice quieter than you meant. "Maybe next time."

Paige paused at the door, glancing back at you with a look that you couldn’t quite read. “Yeah. Maybe next time.”

You watched her walk out, her footsteps fading down the hallway, and a strange knot tightened in your stomach.

Kaia’s message was still there on your phone, waiting to be answered. You were going to meet up with her, but something about it felt a little off now. The weight of Paige’s words and the tension in the air lingered, but you pushed it all aside for the moment.

You grabbed your phone and typed out a quick response to Kaia: 

hey! dinner sounds good, is Latina Cantina cool with you?

You hit send and tossed your phone back on the desk, hoping dinner would help take your mind off everything.

A couple of hours passed since Paige had dropped by your office. You buried yourself in work, crossing off to-dos and reviewing media, but your thoughts kept flickering between the tasks at hand and your conversation with Paige. Before you knew it, late afternoon had rolled around, and practice time was approaching. You decided it was about time to head over to the court to get some footage of the team.

Grabbing your camera gear—lenses, extra batteries, and your bag—you made your way toward the gym. The familiar sounds of practice greeted you as you approached: the squeak of sneakers, the bounce of basketballs, and the low hum of players in motion.

When you reached the court, you immediately spotted Paige. She was in the middle of a drill, her blonde ponytail swinging as she drained shots from beyond the three-point line with ease. You smiled to yourself, knowing you'd be in for some good footage today.

You pushed open the door to the gym, which creaked slightly as it swung wide. Paige turned her head and, as soon as she saw you, her face lit up. She waved you over with a grin, clearly enjoying herself.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” she said, tossing the ball up into the air, making another effortless shot. "I was starting to think you forgot about me."

You chuckled and adjusted your camera, walking over to her. “Busy doing responsible adult things, you know how it is,” you said with a smirk. “But I’m here now, and I’m ready to capture all your greatness.”

Paige shot you a teasing look. “Better get a good shot of me then,” she said, setting herself up for another shot. She launched the ball into the air, sinking it with ease. She turned toward you with a playful grin. “That’s one for the highlight reel, right?”

You snapped the picture, laughing. “Definitely.”

Paige ran to the other side of the court, getting back into position, and you quickly moved to adjust for the next shot. She continued to hit shot after shot, making it look effortless. With every successful basket, she’d glance back at you, pointing toward the camera as if to say, “That was for you.”

The entire team was in sync, their chemistry on full display as they went through drills, but Paige was in a class of her own. Her movements were smooth, controlled, and she made it all look easy. You kept snapping photos, capturing everything from her perfect form to her focused expressions.

After a few minutes, you decided to move around and get shots of the rest of the team. You greeted the players with high-fives and daps, snapping pictures as they got into their respective drills. Some of them flashed quick smiles for the camera, while others focused on their practice. You even took a moment to greet the coaches, giving them a wave and a nod before heading back to catch more action. The atmosphere was relaxed, but you could feel the energy in the air as the team worked together.

About an hour or two into practice, you decided to start wrapping up. The team had been working hard, and it seemed like a good time to pack up for the day. You took a last round of shots, then slung your camera bag over your shoulder.

As you headed for the door, Paige caught your eye once more, flashing that signature grin. “Don’t forget about me now,” she teased, tossing the ball to a teammate. “Make sure you get my best angles next time.”

You waved at her as you walked toward the exit. “I’ve got plenty of footage. Don’t worry,” you called back with a grin, feeling the weight of your day settling in.

As you stepped out of the gym, the sounds of practice fading behind you, you made your way to your car. You had done what you came to do, and now it was time to head home and get ready for your dinner with Kaia. The evening was calling, and though your mind was still half on the court, you knew you needed to focus on the night ahead.

Your phone buzzed again as you walked toward the exit. It was Kaia: “Latina Cantina works for me, see you there?”

You typed out a quick response, feeling the familiar pull of anticipation as you headed for your car.

“perfect, see you later.”

With everything wrapped up at the gym, the rest of your day fell into place. You were ready to unwind for the night, but that lingering feeling—thoughts of Paige—seemed to float just under the surface. It was hard to shake them off, but for now, you’d focus on getting ready for your date with Kaia. Tonight was about having fun.

You drove home, the familiar sights of the city passing by without much thought. The conversation with Kaia lingered, but so did Paige’s smile and the way her eyes had met yours with that unspoken hint of something more. You shook it off and focused on the night ahead. Kaia was sweet, and you liked her. You were determined to be present for her.

At home, you tossed your bag on the couch and started going through your closet. You wanted to look good without overthinking it. Something casual, but still special. You settled on a fitted jersey, leather pants, and your black Amina Muaddi heels. Comfortable yet stylish. After a quick glance in the mirror, you felt good enough to head out.

Before leaving, you took a couple of mirror pics, capturing the outfit just right. You checked your phone, made sure you had everything, and grabbed your keys.

Your phone buzzed again—it was a message from Kaia: i’m already here, can’t wait to see you!

You smiled, the familiar excitement bubbling up. You shot her a quick reply: omw now, see you soon, pretty girl.

The drive to Latina Cantina was short, and you found a spot right in front. Walking in, the warm scent of spices and sizzling food hit you instantly. You spotted Kaia almost immediately—sitting at a corner booth, scrolling through her phone, her easy smile lighting up when she saw you.

"Hey, you made it!" she said as she stood up, giving you a friendly hug. "Glad we could finally catch up."

You smiled, the tension from earlier slipping away. "Yeah, me too. It's been too long."

Kaia looked great, dressed in a soft, oversized sweater in a pastel shade, paired with a sleek mini skirt and chunky white sneakers. She completed the look with a simple silver necklace. The outfit was relaxed yet chic, and she pulled it off effortlessly. "You look amazing," you said, sitting down across from her.

"Thanks," Kaia smiled, her eyes twinkling. "I figured I’d dress up a little, hope I didn’t overdo it."

"Not at all," you said, grinning.

The night went smoothly—good food, easy conversation, and laughter. Kaia was warm and attentive, and though there were moments when your mind briefly wandered back to the gym, you quickly refocused. You didn’t want to spoil the night.

As you finished up dinner, Kaia leaned across the table, her eyes glinting with curiosity. "So, what's been going on with you lately? You’ve been a little... distracted."

You hesitated, your thoughts drifting back to Paige, but before you could respond, Kaia smiled playfully. "I’m just glad we’re hanging out tonight, no distractions, right?"

You chuckled, grateful for her easy-going nature. "Yeah, no distractions tonight. Just us."

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. Kaia’s warmth and lightheartedness made it easy to be present. You talked about funny stories from work, what you both had been up to lately, and random bits of pop culture.

As the meal wound down, Kaia leaned back in her seat, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "So, what’s next on the agenda for you? I know you’ve got a lot going on."

You took a sip of your drink, considering. "Honestly? I just needed a night off. No work, no stress—just hanging out."

"Well, I’m glad you’re here," she said, her tone sincere. "We should do this more often."

You nodded, feeling a flicker of warmth. "Definitely. I’d like that."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the noise of the restaurant buzzing around you. There was something about this moment, about Kaia’s easy presence, that felt... right. You smiled, grateful for her patience, for how effortlessly she seemed to make everything feel comfortable.

The waiter brought the check, and after a few moments of back and forth, you split the bill. You both stood up, and Kaia pulled on her jacket as you followed her out of the booth. Walking toward the door, Kaia brushed her shoulder against yours, a playful grin on her face. "Same time next week?" she teased.

"Sounds like a plan," you said, your voice a little lighter than when you first walked in.

Outside, the cool night air greeted you both as you walked to your cars. Kaia stopped, turning to face you. “I had a really great time tonight. Thank you for coming out.”

You smiled. "Of course. I had a great time too. See you soon?"

She nodded, taking a step back. "Definitely."

As you drove home, the warmth of the evening stayed with you—Kaia’s laugh, her playful teasing, and the easy flow of conversation. But beneath that warmth, the thought of Paige lingered. The way she had looked at you earlier, the invitation to meet at the bar—it all kept running through your mind. You wondered what it would have been like if you’d gone.

You pulled into your apartment's garage, parking your car and taking a moment to sit in the quiet of the space. The night had been a whirlwind of emotions, but you couldn’t shake the pull toward Paige.

You glanced at your phone, the text to Kaia letting her know you made it home safely, but still no message from Paige. You stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the phone, lost in thought. Without second-guessing, you grabbed your keys, unlocked the door, and stepped out of the car.

You ordered an Uber almost instinctively. There was no hesitation—this felt like the right thing to do.

The Uber ride flew by, the hum of the city at night drowning out your thoughts. The anticipation grew as you neared the bar. When you arrived, the noise hit you immediately—laughter, the clink of glasses, the hum of conversation. You made your way toward the bar, scanning the room for the bartender.

As you were about to order, you felt a presence behind you. "Amaretto sour, right?" Paige said, her tone playful yet confident.

You turned, surprised but smiling. "Exactly."

She ordered for you, adding, “And I’ll take a Shirley Temple. Can’t have you drinking alone.” Her hand brushed against your lower back as she guided you toward the team’s table. The warmth of it sent a rush through you, and you followed her, completely at ease.

As you reached the table, her teammates greeted you. Paige pulled out a chair and sat next to you, her eyes glinting with amusement.

"Glad you made it," she said softly, leaning in closer.

You smiled and settled in beside her. The night felt lighter now, the tension you’d carried throughout the evening melting away.

“I guess I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately,” you said, your voice quieter. “Been trying to figure some things out.”

Paige didn’t push further, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, like she understood. “It’s okay. You don’t have to have it all figured out. Sometimes you just have to let things play out, you know?”

You nodded, her words sinking in. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

The music in the background seemed to swell for a moment, and for a second, it felt like you were the only two people in the room. Paige’s gaze softened, and she leaned in a little closer, her shoulder brushing yours. It wasn’t obvious, but the closeness carried an undeniable charge, as if there was something deeper at play than mere friendly conversation.

“You’re a good person,” she said, the sincerity in her voice catching you off guard. “I can tell you’ve got a lot going on, but I’m glad you’re here. I’m glad you came tonight.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you found yourself smiling, feeling the weight of everything lift just a little. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was just the way Paige made everything feel easier, but in that moment, you felt a little more at peace.

“Thanks, Paige. That means a lot,” you said, your voice quieter now, more real than it had been all night.

She smiled, her eyes meeting yours. “Anytime.”

The night stretched on, but something had shifted. Whatever was lingering between you and Paige, whatever unspoken thing had been hanging in the air, it was finally starting to feel a little clearer. And for the first time that night, you were ready to let yourself just... be.

The night seemed to stretch on endlessly, the laughter of the bar around you becoming a distant hum as you and Paige found yourselves slipping into a quieter, more secluded area. The sounds of clinking glasses and chatter faded, leaving only the space between the two of you, thick with unspoken words and tension.

Paige stood close now, closer than before. The small distance that had once felt comfortable had dwindled to almost nothing, and you could feel the heat radiating off her, her presence impossible to ignore. Her eyes locked onto yours, an unreadable expression playing across her face as if she was waiting for something—waiting for you, or perhaps waiting for the right moment to make the first move.

You could feel her body heat, the subtle shift of her posture, her breath just a little quicker than usual. You couldn’t remember when exactly the conversation had stopped, but now, words felt unnecessary. All that was left was the tension—the tension that had been building from the moment you walked into the bar and locked eyes. It was suffocating, thrilling, and you weren’t sure whether it was the alcohol or the attraction, but you couldn’t deny it anymore. The pull was undeniable.

Your hand brushed against hers in the dim light, a touch so fleeting but loaded with meaning. Her gaze dropped to where your fingers hovered for a moment, then back up to your eyes, an almost imperceptible flicker of something—desire, maybe—flickering in her expression.

The air between you grew heavier, the silence stretching, each second pulling you closer to a decision, to a shift in the unspoken tension. But before either of you could take that final step, Paige moved first. She leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, her touch gentle yet full of intention. It was a quiet moment that spoke louder than words ever could, the space between you both crackling with a charged energy that had been building all night. Her lips were warm against yours, hesitant at first, like she was testing the waters, but it only took a heartbeat for you to feel the pull between you deepen.

You didn’t hesitate. Your hand reached up instinctively to rest on her waist, drawing her closer as the kiss grew more urgent, more assured. Her lips parted slightly, just enough for your breaths to mingle, and you could feel her pulse quicken, her body pressing softly against yours. Everything around you seemed to fade—there was only the two of you, suspended in this moment where nothing else mattered but the way your lips moved together.

The world outside ceased to exist, the hum of the city and the dim glow of the streetlights blurring into the background. Her fingers found their way to your jaw, tracing along your skin with a featherlight touch, anchoring the both of you in this stolen moment. Each brush of her lips told a story—of longing, of unspoken feelings finally set free, of a connection too strong to deny.

The air between you seemed to hum with its own rhythm, matching the steady beat of your heart as you tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss. Her breath hitched, and you could feel her relax into you, her body molding effortlessly against yours as though she’d always belonged there. The taste of her lingered, sweet and intoxicating, leaving you lightheaded yet desperate for more.

When the kiss broke, it wasn’t abrupt but gentle, like the tide pulling back from the shore. Her forehead rested against yours, and for a moment, the only sound was the soft cadence of your shared breathing. Her eyes searched yours, wide and vulnerable, yet shimmering with something unspoken—something fragile but unmistakably real.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, as though saying it too loudly would shatter the intimacy of the moment. Her confession hung in the air between you, a quiet truth that made your chest tighten in the best possible way.

[anneapocalypse]

Not gonna lie, analysis of Minfilia that rests on a reading of her as some kind of hiring manager at a company really doesn't sit right with me, not just because it lends itself to some particularly uncharitable readings of Minfilia, but because it seems to me like a pretty inaccurate reading of what the Scions actually are in ARR.

The Scions of the Seventh Dawn are the union of the Circle of Knowing, a group of activist academics who accurately predicted the apocalypse but failed to prevent it and lost their beloved mentor in the process, and the Path of the Twelve, a group for Echo-bearers to help them better understand and make use of their gift--all doing their best to pick up the pieces and protect the realm in the wake of said apocalypse. Minfilia, formerly the leader of the Path of the Twelve, has now been thrust into the position of leadership over both at the late Louisoix's behest. The Scions in ARR aren't a company, they're an activist group, and in ARR still a very small one without the massive web of political connections they fall into later. They don't have a lot of financial resources. They're largely working quietly and behind the scenes. They have a secret code phrase to identify friends of the organization. Being recruited into this group in ARR is closer to being recruited into a resistance cell than being interviewed for a formal job.

Minfilia's role prior to the Calamity was as the leader of a support group for people experiencing a frightening, isolating, and as-yet poorly-understood phenomenon, a group where they could find others like them, understand what's happening to them, and learn how to use their gift for good. And to some extent, this is still a part of her role. The Warrior of Light is brought in because they were witnessed experiencing the Echo, and Minfilia is reaching out to them as a fellow Echo-bearer. I think it's a mistake to interpret her words and actions without that context, particularly her expressed hope that this most recent Echo-bearer she's invited into her group will find something like family there. I mean, listen to the joy with which she says, "I too possess the Echo." She's telling the WoL that they're not alone, that there is a name and an explanation for what they've been experiencing, that they can find others like themselves here. Yes, she's also asking for their help. But this is a pretty far cry from a job interview. However flawed the Scions may be as an organization, I can only see Minfilia's overtures here as offered in the spirit of friendship and camaraderie. And framing that as her trying to build loyalty she can exploit in a corporate manner feels extremely ungenerous given what we know of her character.

I don't want to sound like I'm here to defend the Scions in ARR against any and all criticism--I've discussed my own in the past, from their concerning tendency toward self-sacrifice to the attitude they develop toward the WoL (which is kind of up for interpretation based on your character's relationship to them but which can come across as a cavalier attitude toward the WoL's safety, taking advantage of their unique abilities, etc). In particular, the Scions' experience as a small activist organization, and Minfilia's particular experience as Echo support group leader, has ill-prepared any of them to be thrust into an international spotlight following the defeat of the Ultima Weapon. The attack on the Waking Sands has already revealed the weaknesses in their opsec, and certain scenes in the ARR patch quests reveal something of a power struggle between Minfilia and Alphinaud--one which Alphinaud ultimately wins, because Minfilia lacks the kind of confidence in her position to stand against the force of his personality, and she, like most of the other Scions, starts to fall into the trap of seeing Alphinaud as the second coming of Louisoix and lets him push her around accordingly. Minfilia is simply not equipped or prepared to lead the kind of organization the Scions are turning into. (Urianger, incidentally is one of the few who seems to notice this and remark on it, but also seems to feel that he can't directly object.) The cracks begin to show, and then it all falls apart, and when the Scions finally begin to put themselves back together post-Heavensward, I think they all understand that they can't go back, that what they rebuild will be something new. Over the next few expacs I think we see them developing a new group identity, recognizing that that old model no longer serves them and doing their best to adapt to constantly changing circumstances.

The Scions in ARR have plenty of problems, but they're not a for-profit company and they're also not the same organization as the Scions of later expacs. I think that context needs to be taken into account when interpreting their actions, especially those of their leader.