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pierregazly · 8 months

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in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity. This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis.

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world.

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to.

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel.

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it.

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other.

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was.

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?”

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.”

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head.

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up.

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same.

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city.

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together.

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right.

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days.

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days.

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times.

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy?

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that.

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix.

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza.

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen.

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks.

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.”

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?”

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.”

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close.

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?”

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.”

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood.

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help.

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in?

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities?

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas.

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper.

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?”

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.”

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.”

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on.

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down.

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction.

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were.

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.”

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.”

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working?

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays.

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before.

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you?

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to.

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers.

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down.

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned.

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart.

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head.

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.”

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection.

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.”

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go.

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.”

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.”

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades.

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be.

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along.

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.”

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you.

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes.

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row.

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen.

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?”

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?”

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew.

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews.

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around.

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment.

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know.

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.”

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen.

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go.

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out.

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him.

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later.

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

taglist

@leclercdream @myescapefromthislife @iloveyou3000morgan @love4lando @asfaraslifegets @decseptapril @somanyfandomsbruh

if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x you #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 one shot #f1 imagine #soulmate trope #my writing #formula 1

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warpedlegacywrites · 9 months

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Platonic Intimacy Prompts

Here is my blog version of the original prompt list found here. Please like and reblog the original version. I will try my best to keep it updated as prompts are fulfilled.

𝑃𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝐼𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑦 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑡𝑠

Feel free to add context if needed! Add "Reverse" to any action to swap the roles!

[BRUSH] Sender offers to brush receivers hair

[STYLE] Sender offers to style receivers hair

[ADJUST] Sender straightens/fixes receivers clothing (Tie, coat, hair accessory, etc.)

[FASHION] Sender brings over an outfit for receiver to try on

[EAT] Sender brings receiver food while they're focused on another task.

[KISS] Sender kisses receiver on the cheek

[FOREHEAD] Sender kisses receiver on the forehead

[HUG] Sender suddenly hugs receiver

[REST] While out on a walk, sender guides receiver to sit down somewhere and rest.

[OPEN] Sender opens something for the receiver (pickle jar, package, etc.)

[GIFT] Sender gives receiver a small gift (Make sure to name what it is!

Varric & Theresa, opening letters together

[PAY] Sender pays for receivers meal

[HOLD] Sender hugs receiver and holds them close.

Theresa explains hugs to Cole, not in so many words

[LIFT] Sender picks up receiver princess style

[HIGH] Sender gets something off the high shelf for receiver

[WATER] Sender brings receiver a water bottle

[HAND] Sender takes receivers hand so they don't get lost in a crowd.

#dadwc prompts #platonic intimacy prompts

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bunnyswritings · 1 year

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And out of all the ways I love you

— prompts based on the different types of love

Philia — affectionate love: write about the shared love between two people as friends, or in the beginning stages of their relationship. A platonic friendship that is both meaningful and sweet, and one that sets the foundation for growth in the future.

Ludus — flirtatious, playful love: write about two people seeing love as a desire to want to have fun with each other, to do activities with each other; teasing, indulging and playing harmless pranks on each other.

Eros — romantic, passionate love: write about the passionate love between two people; they explore each other physically and emotionally, each others likes and dislikes, what makes the other tick. Delve into their phase of intimacy and romance.

Pragma — committed, practical love: write about how two people assist each other in life, be it running errands for each other, doing chores etc. Two people who want to find value in their partners, and ultimately find satisfaction in reaching a common, practical goal.

Storge — familial love: write about their growth from being a couple to a family unit; this builds upon their initial platonic friendship, and morphs into a committed, anchoring love, especially through times of hardship.

Philautia — self love: write about how two people, though a couple, respect each other's space for self care, and self love. This helps them to grow as individuals, and helps with their self esteem and confidence.

Agape — altruistic, selfless love: write about the sacrificial love each person has for the other; it is a more emotionally mature love where groundedness comes into play, rather than being guided by their emotions and their hearts.

I hope you like these! Do tag me in your creations!

Drop your requests here if you would like!

#writing prompts #prompts #fluff #otp prompts #domestic #fanfiction writer #fanfic prompt #writeblr #creative writing #creative writing prompts #different types of love #types of love #love prompts #imagine your otp #character analysis #bunnyswritings

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cryptidcorners · 6 months

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Josh Futturman x Reader Headcanons

= Character: Josh Futturman

= Media: Show!Future Man

= Prompt: N/A

= Description: Just !Platonic & !Romantic mixed Headcanons!

= Request: N/A

= Tags: Fluff ! Headcanons, Shy/Awkward Josh, Romantic + Platonic, Established Relationship, Some Comfort + Reader is !GN

= Warnings: None.

= Please Read my INTRO before interacting !

Josh has always struggled to maintain relationships, including ones with friends. Not only because he's incredibly socially awkward, but his escapism within videogames plays a major factor. So, he treasures what he has with you much more seriously than anyone you knew.

Rambles about his games all the time. His interests are something you can never get him to shut up about. Josh is usually into strategies, lore & development, his favorite being "Biowars", which you already knew had quite the reputation for being a challenging videogame.

He's pretty bubbly, especially around you. Josh is an absolute sweetheart and will get flustered at almost anything. His childish personality roots out much more when you're around, mostly because Josh feels more comfortable.

He isn't very open about his feelings, mostly because he's afraid of losing people. Josh desperately wants to be a part of something and refuses to mess it up somehow. Josh, however, is very different when you're opening up. He'll advise, comfort and try to cheer you up. (It's actually crazy how good his advice is sometimes.)

Josh is content with following you anywhere, as long as it doesn't involve his house or hear his parents. If I'm going to be honest, if he's particularly choosing somewhere to lounge, it'd be an arcade. It's a field where he specializes in and he can impress you easily. It's also somewhere he can discard his low self-esteem and indulge in his skills.

Praise is like a drug to Josh. Compliments or any sight of you liking him (or what he's doing), he feels intense dopamine. He really enjoys making people happy.

He's pretty charismatic sometimes, even when he's not trying to be. Josh is usually awkward when directly talking to somebody with a set question or goal in mind, but when he needs to go with the flow, it's much more grounded. With you in mind, Josh is much more relaxed, so he isn't as shy as he is with strangers.

Wouldn't exactly say he's very affectionate, but he wouldn't mind hugging either. Again, Josh is pretty awkward, and I doubt he rarely showcases soft intimacy around anyone (whenever it's platonic or romantic). He would love to do it, but he's very shy. Though, he isn't afraid to try. If you ask, he's perfectly fine with holding your hand or sitting close.

As I mentioned, Josh is very tentative on affection, especially receiving it, but he loves getting his hair and face touched. Dude needs love.

Digs through your trash. He doesn't have any ill intents, but Josh will take time out of his day to scavenge through waste instead of asking you a minor question. I know I mentioned he's very relaxed around you, but Josh definitely overthinks, especially with relationships. He tries his best.

Will cry real tears of joy if you ever give him something. Josh really appreciates gifts, no matter who it's from. Even if it's not game related, he's definitely holding onto it for a while. (Bonus Points If: It's an animal toy, a decoration or handmade.)

Romantically speaking, he enjoys kissing you or indulging in anything sweet. A lot of giggling & sweet talk. Josh isn't very experienced in relationships like this, so he tried to wing it. Needless to say, he probably gets advice from Google images and it's adorable to see him try his best to impress you.

Will always defend you, even if he fails miserably. Absolute trooper.

Josh will one hundred percent get emotional at any piece of film he is watching with you. Especially if it's a game cutscenes and it involves animals.

Huge softie. I don't think Josh can handle saying anything remotely mean to you or reviving it. If he does, expect a flood of apologies.

Can get way into character sometimes, whatever context this is. You know what I'm talking about.

Very clingy. No other words.

Lastly, he'd definitely call you nicknames in the cutest way possible. If he lets you call him "Joshy", you've probably earned the highest pillar of his trust.

#🎮 josh futturman #josh futturman #josh futturman x reader #future man #headcanons #josh hutcherson #writing #writers on tumblr #future man 2017

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shalotttower · 23 days

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A Natural Benefit

Title: A Natural Benefit

Fandom: Death Note

Characters: L Lawliet x Reader (female)

Summary: L wants to try something new, you want to be left alone. So an offer is on the table, it's a mutually beneficial arrangement after all.

Word count: 2100+

Notes: yandere!L, kidnapped Reader, dub-con kissing, manipulation, captivity, L and Reader were together at Wammy's House

"Would you indulge me?"

Your eyes dart up from the page to his face. L looks at you like he always does ─ an intent yet oddly distant stare that used to make goosebumps appear on your arms. Nowadays you're somewhat re-accustomed to his mannerisms. He doesn't blink much, tends to stand behind your back whenever possible, likes to play with his food and enjoys invading your personal space far too much to be deemed socially acceptable.

His habits are strange but harmless.

"No," you say, just to be contrary.

L is fond of making things sound simple, and then — snap! — the trap is shut, and you find yourself doing a completely different activity than initially expected.

"I want to kiss you."

"N-" You blink and lower your book down, not bothering to mark it. "What?"

"Kissing is an act of physical intimacy between individuals," he says like it's an obvious fact and you're merely slow on the uptake. L's expression doesn't change, neutral despite this being anything but a normal conversation starter even by your standards ─ admittedly low.

"Thank you for enlightening me about the definition," you lean back against the cushions, "still no."

"Why not?" He asks after a momentary pause.

"Because I don't want to."

A simple answer to a weird request. You try to resume reading, but there're other things currently occupying your brain ─ namely the attempts to understand what prompted such inquiry.

L never asked for physical contact before; platonic or otherwise. Sure he tried to entice you into spending time with him through bargain and manipulation, and you pretended to be oblivious enough to earn an Oscar for your acting skills. However, there never was any talk of kissing involved. Any kind of touching, actually.

He hums. "Would you like me to explain my reasons?"

Sometimes you think that the sole cause of L's existence is just so he could annoy people for kicks. His questions are always peculiar, and you've learned that every single one of them is designed to lead towards some specific conclusion, preferably the one he wants. You have a feeling that if you say 'yes', L will proceed to list a hundred points about why kissing is good. And then another hundred why kissing him specifically is beneficial.

"No."

He looks at you. You look at him and raise the book higher.

"Indulging me would benefit both of us," L says, undeterred. "You're very curious by nature and I find it quite fascinating that you're able to deny your curiosity in this particular case."

Has a more obvious bait ever existed anywhere in human history? Probably not, and you'll bet your entire life savings on it too.

"I'm not curious," you lie, "now leave me alone. I want to read."

He leans forward. "You haven't focused on the book since I asked my question."

Smartass. You purse your lips and pretend that the characters are suddenly so interesting, that it's hard to look away from the intricacies of the plot unfolding inside this fictional world. At least things there make sense; no need to figure out the hidden meanings behind other people's words, because they are mostly transparent when there's a whole paragraph dedicated to the protagonist's feelings.

He reminds you of those spider-like creatures from documentaries ─ their actions seem random at first glance, yet upon further scrutiny prove to be anything but. Instead, they're meticulously crafted and executed to obtain maximum results.

L studies you for a little while longer, and eventually pads towards the kitchenette. The kettle whistles soon after as he makes himself tea; mint flavored, judging by the aroma wafting through the air.

______________________________________________________

You should have known that he won't give up ─ L is just as persistent as you are stubborn. If anything, you've set a challenge before him, and he tends to fixate on those until they are solved: a fact well-known and accepted among those who ever had a (dis)pleasure of interacting with him.

He doesn't outright ask you again, not the next day or the one after that. No. Accidentally, the only type of movies you're able to watch now are rom-coms or dramas with lots of kissing scenes sprinkled here and there between the banter bordering on cringe; sweet confessions spoken over candlelit dinners; passionate declarations whispered during sunsets... Clichés, amore, and kisses galore.

"I'm not sure this is the best movie for the evening," you say, as the screen flickers with images of two leads gazing into each other's eyes like they found the answers to every single question asked.

"The reviews are quite positive," L replies, munching on caramel popcorn.

"Reviews can be faked. And the trailer was misleading. I thought it was going to be an action movie."

"It is an action movie. The genres are listed right there," he points at the screen, and the words 'romance and action' stare back at you.

You frown and settle deeper into the couch cushions. It's uncomfortable ─ watching romantic scenes with L in the same room. His presence doesn't feel oppressive or demanding, yet you can't shake off the squirmy, twisty feeling. The kind when you enter an elevator with someone else and get slightly agitated for no reason. And so you try to slow down your breathing, but it only makes things worse. Your heart beats faster, palms start sweating and the hypothetical elevator stranger inevitably thinks that you're weird.

L isn't an elevator stranger. He's the owner of the elevator, and the entire building, and the city.

"He's going to die in the next ten minutes," you mutter.

"No, he won't."

"Yes, he will."

L hums. "Want a bet?"

Your eyes narrow.

"If he survives past the fifteen minute mark," L says slowly, "you indulge me."

"And if he doesn't?"

"I leave you alone for two days."

There's no hesitation on his side. None whatsoever, which proves suspicious immediately ─ L never offers something unless certain about the outcome beforehand, whether by logical deduction or calculated gamble. Probability factors run inside his brain instead of blood cells and grey matter, calculating risk vs return ratio quicker than any computer ever could.

You glance at the screen. It's a simple plot. There were a twist or two earlier, sure, but overall nothing extraordinary that would require hours upon hours of critical thinking to unravel.

A man, a woman. A handsome villain who wants them dead, for various reasons. They run and fight, shoot guns, dodge punches, and kiss between those because apparently there's time for romance even when a life is on the line.

It's a very simple plot; and two days are a lot to pretend that L doesn't exist. That you got rich enough to buy this kind of apartment.

"The speakers?"

"Switched off."

"The cameras?"

"Those will stay."

Of course, they will. You wouldn't expect anything less ─ privacy issues are non-existent here in more ways than one.

L isn't always a presence. Sometimes he leaves and you're alone with nothing but books and TV to pass time, but two days sound wonderful regardless. There's something in empty spaces that's enticing, even if they're temporary. L, for all his peculiarities, isn't too bad of a company. He's quiet, and often busy with his own matters. But he also has this way of looking at you that is unnerving. Like you're interesting. Or important. Or simply fascinating.

Sometimes he wants to talk, he wants to listen, he wants to ask questions and give answers until everything blurs into an amalgamation of words. It's exhausting.

Two days sound good. His hand is dry and slender. You grasp it and shake it once.

"I'll start the timer now," L says after your hands separate.

______________________________________________________

Twelve minutes.

Three more and he's dead.

You wish that he'd just kick the bucket already, so you could spend the next forty eight hours in pure, undiluted bliss.

_______________________________________________________

The male lead dies after seventeen minutes.

When the credits roll over, the apartment is silent except for the soft buzzing of electronics. You look at the screen, stubbornly, because you don't want to look at him, the owner of the elevator, and the building, and the city.

"It was close," he comments, as if trying to comfort you, which makes it even more of a sore spot.

That’s what L thrives on ─ technicalities, loopholes, small and seemingly insignificant details which are easily overlooked, yet make a great difference. You're not sure if you're annoyed, or disappointed. And what’s more important ─ at whom.

You have known for years that L tends to get his way eventually whenever there's something specific caught up in that head of his; a fixation which refuses to leave until satisfied, and sometimes even after. Snap. You can get up and head out of the living room, you know you can. Will you though is another question entirely.

L isn't a typical captor ─ he doesn't demand or force you into things. He simply presents a possibility and waits. Not aggressive or domineering, not sadistic. But oh he is a PhD of holding a grudge. Leaving now probably means waking up tomorrow and finding that every single disk has vanished without a trace, along with the bookshelves being switched for some obscure scientific texts on chemistry, physics and other things that require an advanced degree to fully understand.

Because someone decided that you don’t deserve entertainment anymore. Because someone is petty enough to deprive you of basic mental stimuli, and is stubborn enough to hold onto that decision even when reasoned with. Unsuccessfully.

It's a talent really, this particular brand of making your life miserable in many small ways, so they accumulate into something greater over time until you feel like the walls are closing in slowly but surely.

You can't back out, even though no one openly stops you from doing so. And L knows that. And he knows that you know. His lips twitch and curl upward before flattening again into neutral territory.

There's a theory that if you pull a band-aid fast enough, it won't hurt as much. The credibility behind it is questionable.

You exhale and meet L's gaze ─ his posture hasn't changed from the beginning to the end of the film, knees tucked to his chest, eyes two dark pools that stare without blinking. His fingers drum a steady rhythm, and that's probably the only sign that gives it away.

Anticipation.

"Fine," you say finally.

His mouth opens before closing back again. L doesn't move a bit.

He wants you to do it, you realize. Wants you to initiate instead of just allowing it. What an ass.

You squish his cheeks between your palms until his lips pucker outwards. L makes a soft noise of surprise but doesn't try to fight back.

Black lashes cast a shadow across his skin. There's no perfume or cologne, no distinct smell ─ he uses plain soap and shampoo which don't have a discernible aroma.

"I believe I was promised an indulgence," L says, voice muffled a bit by your hands on his face.

He looks like a fish this way. A silly, ridiculous image that would make you snort if not for the situation at hand.

Band-aids and ripping them off.

You sigh, lean forward, and press your mouth to his.

He tastes like caramel popcorn.

Mint tea.

Indulgence.

The angle is awkward, and L doesn't move an inch to accommodate the position. He stays still like a block of solid rock, not a single muscle twitches, and doesn't even attempt to reciprocate. You have half a mind to think that maybe he's mocking you, but then his fingers lightly curl on the fabric of his jeans. L's eyelids flutter half-closed when your noses bump, then open again right after. Another oddity added to the pile.

It lasts no longer than ten seconds before you pull away. L blinks. Touches his lower lip with the tip of a finger and rubs it like searching for traces left by the contact.

"You were promised an indulgence," you remind him, trying to sound calm, collected, but your ears and neck feel hot, "not a make-out session."

Technicalities and loopholes.

L has that look you can't quite pinpoint yet know far too well. You've seen it many times before. When he thinks about something but keeps it to himself for now.

"You look more lively," he remarks eventually. "Healthy complexion suits you."

You don't need to hear what he says next, because the words already ring through your head.

"I told you it would benefit us both."

#shalott fanfiction #shalott imagine #yandere #death note #yandere l lawliet #yandere l lawliet x reader #yandere l x reader

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imagining-in-the-margins · 10 days

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🌈CM Pride Challenge🏳️‍⚧️

Hey everyone, I’m back with another monthly challenge! For the months of May AND June, I am formally challenging any willing writer to take a stab at writing fanfiction including LGBTQA+ PRIDE using their choice of Criminal Minds characters! Reader, Original Character, Character/Character ships, Gen/Platonic fics are allowed!Please check out the Rules below the Keep Reading.

There are a LOT of prompts below the cut, so keep going!

(**This is NOT a request list for me—this is a prompt list of other writers! Feel free to request from someone else, and be sure to let them know about the challenge!)

General Prompts 🏳️‍🌈

Coming out is so much harder the second time

Describe Character’s first kiss with the same gender

Describe Character(s) spending a day at a Pride parade

The team realizes that A&B were more than roommates

Penelope goes a little overboard on rainbow decorations at Characters’ wedding

Character's marriage mutually comes to an end when they come out... now what?

Character comes out at the same time they announce their new relationship to the team

Character A fears it’s too late for them to live authentically, and B assures them that’s not true

Character A gifts B something colored like their pride flag because “the colors reminded me of you”

Child realizes that not every kid has two moms/two dads and they have a lot of questions about it

Queer characters have a hard time deciding what their child should call them and come up with fun ideas

Character A goes to a LGBT bar with B as a wingperson (or maybe they want them, themselves?)

Anything else you can think of!

More prompts (transgender, assorted, dialogue) below!

Transgender Prompts 🏳️‍⚧️

Character A helps B get their first tailored dress/suit

Character A helps B shave and/or put on makeup

The couple is looking for gender neutral nicknames

Character A buys B specialty gender affirming lingerie

Character is casually referred to with an appropriately gendered nickname for the first time

Characters are renewing their vows and redoing their wedding photos following a coming out

Character A walks in on B wearing a new gender-affirming outfit and surprises them with an enthusiastic compliment

The team throws Character an impromptu first birthday party following their coming out (how did they get a banner so fast?!)

Character A buys B a gender affirming but stereotypical gift (sports jersey, neon pink purse, etc.) that they would otherwise hate (but find absolutely hilarious)

Specific Prompts 💝

[Bisexual] Character gets irritated when people reduce their sexuality to their current partner

[Bisexual] Character A is in a M/F relationship with B and worries that their queer identity will become invisible dating them

[Asexual] Characters explore different forms of non-sexual intimacy

[Asexual] Characters are both asexual but too nervous to tell one another. They awkwardly attempt to have sex but end up laughing at how ridiculous they feel.

Dialogue Prompts 💐

“Are they… flirting?” “Big time.”

“I got to fall in love with you twice.”

“To be seen is to be loved." "I see you.”

“Be gay, do crimes.” “Aren’t you a cop?”

“There is no heterosexual explanation for that.”

“Life is very different once you find your people.”

“Cardinals and hydrangeas can change. Why not you?”

“You're still the person I love. Nothing will change that.”

“We both wear pants. Makes it easier to kick your ass.”

“It’s never felt like this before. I've never felt like this before.”

“I guess it makes sense now why it never worked out with my exes.”

Am I allowed to look at her like that? Could it be wrong when she's just so nice to look at? ("She" by Dodie)

“You can kiss a hundred boys in bars, shoot another shot, try to stop the feeling ... Well, good luck, babe. You'd have to stop the world just to stop the feeling.” ("Good Luck, Babe!" by Chappell Roan)

Rules ❤️🧡💚💙💜🖤🤎

The fic can be a Reader insert, an Original Character, a character/character ship, a platonic ship, or a Gen fic. It can feature any Criminal Minds character. AUs and crossovers are more than welcome.

Tag me in the fic, or send the link to me in a Direct Message. It can be already written, or you can write it for the challenge - I’m collecting both! You can also tag it “#mentioningmargins” which is a tag I track.

The fic can be any genre, but ONLY send me smut if your bio states you are 18+. I DO NOT WANT smut written by minors. Ever. At all. I will check.Platonic ships and pure, fluffy fics are 100% allowed.

Please include Content Warnings and a one-sentence Summary of the fic in your post.

Have fun!

The Masterlist of fics will be posted around June 30. If you finish after that, no problem - just send me the fic once you’re done and I’ll add it after-the-fact!

Feel free to message me if you want help developing a plot, have any questions, or just want to gush about your fic. I’m happy to help, and I’m happy you’re here ❤️

🌈Happy writing! 🏳️‍⚧️

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sellawrites · 11 months

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INTIMACY

word count: 3.2k

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

⚠️warnings⚠️:

explicit smut, internalized homophobia, light angst

prompts:

you and paige having “platonic” life-altering sex, and her finally realizing her feelings and then pinning you against the wall and having actual romantic life-altering sex

5 + 1: 5 times you and paige hooked up “platonically”, and 1 time it was decidedly not platonic

best friends to lovers

miscommunication (maybe just bad communication)

The first time that you kissed Paige Bueckers was all because of a silly conversation had at a ridiculously late hour during your 13th birthday sleepover. You were giggling over the fact that you were grown up enough to have boyfriends, and blushing over what you could do with them.

Hardly daring to say it, you’d whispered to Paige in the dark that you were scared to kiss a boy because you’d never done it before, and she’d asked if you were scared to kiss her. She’d explained that she wasn’t scared to kiss you because you were her friend, and even though your heart was beating out of your chest, you’d agreed.

Eyes wide, you and Paige had scooted closer to each other, your lips barely touching before you’d both pulled away, laughing. Once you’d calmed down, you tried again, getting comfortable with little pecks on the lips. You continued this throughout the night, and when Paige kissed you good morning, it became a part of your friendship. After that night, you realized some things:

1. Kissing was actually fun (not gross, like you’d been led to believe)

2. Paige was good at kissing (you had no evidence for this, but she made it fun and that had to be the point)

3. Girls definitely made you feel the same butterflies in your stomach as boys did (this was pretty shocking, so you chose to keep that to yourself)

You didn’t know what it was at that point, but that was when you figured out that you were bisexual. You always wondered if Paige felt anything from the kisses, but dismissed your thoughts as she clearly didn’t think kissing meant anything.

The first time you made out with Paige Bueckers was two years later, but it led to a an earth-shattering fourth realization:

4. You liked Paige, like a lot, like you wanted to do a lot more with her than kissing (this was extremely shocking, and you resolved never to tell anyone, especially not her)

You were 15 years old, both slightly tipsy at your first high school party. Wanting to seem cool, you’d agreed to play Truth or Dare with the popular kids. Paige picked dare, of course, and you didn’t like the looks that passed over the two of you as the boy that had asked Paige dared her to kiss you for a full minute.

You planned to just press your lips together to hers, hoping that you wouldn’t run out of air somehow, but Paige apparently had other ideas. Within seconds, she was moving her lips confidently, and you were shocked to your core when you felt her tongue dart into your mouth.

Even though Paige had started it, you were terrified that she would know how you felt when you kissed back. She didn’t, of course, and you were only slightly devastated when she pulled away after someone announced that the minute was up.

You made out again in the back of Paige’s dad’s car on the drive home, and it started a tradition of making out drunk at parties. It never meant anything, of course, but you touched yourself to the memories many times after that, always feeling immensely guilty, but never enough to stop.

When you were 17, something shifted in your relationship on a random night. You and Paige were laying in her bed (you were sleeping over at her house), marvelling at being able to do whatever you wanted because her family wasn’t home.

By now, you’d both had a couple of boyfriends, but you never did anything more than kissing because (this took you a while to admit to yourself) you wanted Paige, not them. Your conversation had lapsed into silence, and Paige, emboldened by a confidence that only comes in the darkness, had asked you a decidedly intrusive question.

She asked you what you thought about when you masturbated, and you’d panicked and named a boy that you supposed you thought was hot, not being able to give Paige the real answer (her). You’d quickly turned the question on her, and she’d blushed profusely and mumbled her boyfriend’s name.

Feeling jealous, you’d asked if he’d ever touched her, and she quietly confessed that he had, but had never made her finish. You should’ve expected her to ask you the same thing, but it still caught you off guard when she did.

Taking your silence as embarrassment, Paige had reassured you that it would happen soon and that you didn’t need to be nervous. Then she asked if she could touch you, maintaining that it would be best not to be surprised and react weirdly when a boy eventually did.

You were shocked at the casualness of her words and reminded her that she had a boyfriend, but she reassured you that doing stuff with girls didn’t count. Too hopeful to fully grasp the meaning of her words, you’d agreed and asked to touch her, too, your shaking hands in stark contrast to her slow, assured ones.

Before you knew it, Paige Bueckers became the first person other than yourself to give you an orgasm, and without even putting her fingers inside you (you didn’t want to think about how you’d dreamed about this moment in slightly different circumstances). She confessed after that she’d never made herself feel like that, meaning that you gave her her first ever orgasm (you definitely didn’t want to put too much value into it, but your brain was going absolutely haywire).

Once again, you never talked about it after, even when Paige broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks later. You didn’t want to make anything weird, so you pretended to forget all about it.

You don’t really remember the first time that you and Paige had sex because you were really fucked up. You were 19 at a UConn party after one of Paige’s games, and of course everyone was throwing themselves at her.

You’d started doing shots to numb the jealousy, but Paige had quickly found you and insisted on joining you like her stupid, endearing, ride or die self.

She’d asked if you wanted to smoke with her, and of course you’d agreed. You’d shotgunned, which had turned into making out, but you did it regularly enough that it barely phased you anymore.

You’d started to feel it all hit you, so you’d told her to go back to the party while you tried to find somewhere to sit and sober up a bit, settling on an empty bedroom.

Paige had come in to check on you, because of course she had, and once she’d sat down on the bed to rub your back, you finally had the courage to kiss her first.

You’d woken up in the morning with a pounding headache and a pit in your stomach as memories came back to you in disjointed images.

You remembered pushing Paige onto the bed and tangling your hands in her hair, giggling as her hands found their way under your dress. It got a bit fuzzy after that, but you had a very clear memory of your head between Paige’s legs as you pumped your fingers in and out of her.

You’d shifted and felt a pleasant soreness between your own legs, your jaw dropping as you realized that she must have done the same to you. You were upset that you couldn’t remember it, but also shocked that things had actually gone that far.

Finally registering your surroundings, you’d seen Paige, dressed only in her underwear, passed out beside you in the bed at the frat house where the party had been. Fixing your dress, you’d shaken her awake so that you could both leave.

Paige had been groggy as she put her clothes on, but she’d been awake enough to smirk that you two had a fun night. You weren’t sure what to feel anymore, so you’d just nodded, staying silent on the walk to your dorm.

When you didn’t speak of it again, you almost convinced yourself that it didn’t hurt anymore.

Your last straw was after you and Paige had sex sober. Thinking back, you often wondered how you’d let it happen, but there was no sense lying to yourself. You would always take whatever Paige was willing to give you.

You’d been roommates at UConn for over two years, and despite your complicated feelings, it had been good most of the time. Until Paige had walked into your bedroom and ruined everything.

She’d flopped onto your bed (as she often did), but instead of discussing any topic appropriate for best friends (you were really starting to hate the term), she’d point-blank asked to you to finger her. Nothing Paige Bueckers had ever said shocked you as much as those words coming out of her mouth, so you’d sat in silence as she shamelessly explained that she was really horny and that you’d been really good at it at the party (that you still tried not to think about).

You couldn’t believe that she would bring it up so casually after not speaking of it for almost a year, so you’d assumed that she was joking. Deciding to just go with whatever this bit was, you’d agreed to do it after you finished an important assignment. You expected her to leave soon after, now that the joke was made, but she stayed firmly planted on your bed, and you could feel her staring at your back.

You weren’t sure what to do once you’d finished your assignment, but seeing no other choice, you’d slowly turned around to ask Paige what the hell was going on. Your words had died on your lips as you’d seen how she was laying on your bed, biting her lip as she’d started at you with her legs spread wide.

All she’d needed to do was shift her hips slightly and you’d given in. You’d walked to sit down on your bed, surprised when Paige pulled you into a heated kiss. You’d barely even had time to register that this was the first time you’d made out sober because Paige had ground her hips up against you as she lifted them to take off the basketball shorts she’d been wearing.

You’d tried to take off her panties, but she’d stopped you, so you rubbed her clit through them. Paige was grinding against you urgently, so you’d slid them to the side, plunging a finger into her when you found her dripping wet.

Still locked in the kiss, you’d been surprised to feel Paige clench around your fingers as she came quickly.

You were distracted enough (worrying about the consequences of this latest activity) that Paige was able to wrap her legs around your waist and flip you over onto your back. She was already pulling your sweats off when you’d recovered enough from your surprise to ask what she was doing.

Paige, looking confused, had straddled you and replied that she was returning the favour. You’d like to think that you would’ve been smarter if she hadn’t been rocking her hips against yours, but your only thought in that moment had been that if this was going to ruin the friendship, you at least deserved an orgasm after everything she’d put you through.

Once again, inexplicably, Paige had joined your lips together as she’d slid a hand under your panties (she left them on) to brush over your clit. You’d lost yourself in the feeling of her fingers in your pussy, only opening your eyes when Paige’s lips had left yours. In a sight that was burned into your memory forever, you’d watched her shuffle down the bed and lower her mouth to suck on your clothed clit.

Paige’s fingers were still inside you, and when she’d looked up with her mouth on your clit, you came just from the look in her eyes. It was one of the best orgasms of your life, but as Paige had collapsed onto your chest with a satisfied smile, you’d realized that you couldn’t go through all of this again.

+ 1:

When you’d woken up the next morning, Paige was still sleeping on you, and you’d wanted so badly to confess. Looking down at her beautiful sleeping face, you’d gently shaken her awake. You’d noticed a fearful look in her eyes as she’d quickly sat up and pushed you away. Paige had opened and closed her mouth like she was going to say something, but then she’d turned and ran out of your dorm.

She’d apparently been staying with one of her teammates, but you didn’t know because you hadn’t spoken to her for days. You’d already cried so hard that you’d given yourself a headache, so you didn’t go to class. You were curled up in a kitchen chair drinking tea when the door was thrown open to reveal Paige.

You raised an eyebrow, trying to appear indifferent. “Why are you back?”

“Why aren’t you in class? I didn’t think you’d be here,” Paige said evasively.

“I didn’t feel like going,” you mumbled, suddenly conscious of your puffy eyes.

Paige stepped tentatively into the room and took a deep breath. “I really thought I was gonna have more time to figure out how I was gonna do this, but I guess it’s happening now. I’m so sorry for everything. Nika and Azzi helped me realize how confusing it all must have been for you, and it’s all my fault. I think I just didn’t let myself think I could have anything more than platonic feelings for girls, and then by the time I did, it was already so messed up with us.”

She bit her lip. “I told myself it would be fine because I was scared talk to you, and even more scared to lose you.” Her voice wobbled on the last confession.

Despite everything you’d done with each other, Paige had never been this vulnerable with you. Once again, Paige Bueckers had managed to leave you speechless.

“That’s not an excuse, and I’ve probably ruined this — us — forever, but I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry,” she finished, eyes glued to the floor.

You stood up and walked towards her. “It’s my fault, too. I should’ve said something earlier but I was scared to lose you, too. I’m s-” you started to apologize too, but Paige surged forward to kiss you.

You could feel the passion of years of repressed feelings pouring out as she wrapped her arms around your neck. The sound of the door slamming made you both jump, but Paige quickly pushed you back, pinning you to the wall with her arms on either side of your head.

You’d never kissed Paige like this, and it was everything you’d been missing. She grabbed your thighs and picked you up, easily carrying you to her bed. “I will never be able to tell you how sorry I am,” Paige apologized again as she gently laid you down.

“Why don’t you show me, then?” You whispered, still not completely sure that this wasn’t a dream. Paige stripped off her shirt and your breath caught at the sight of her abs. She squeezed your hips to get you to lift them as she took off your pants, kissing all the way down your legs.

“I want to see you. Take everything off,” you mumbled, still fearing rejection.

“Anything you want,” Paige breathed as she pulled her sportsbra over her head. Somehow, this was the first time that you’d seen her shirtless in years, and you were not disappointed. Tearing your eyes away, you unclipped your own bra as Paige pulled off her pants. She climbed back on top of you after you took off your panties.

This was the first time that you’d been completely naked in front of each other. “You’re so beautiful,” you said adoringly, and Paige was quick to slot your lips together. You were both rolling your hips trying to get friction, so Paige moved one of your legs over hers so your pussies could slide against each other.

You were both moaning as you found a rhythm that had your clits rubbing together. Paige’s hands were tangled in your hair, and you brought your hands up to play with her tits, rolling her nipples between your fingers. The pace of your hips increased, your kisses getting sloppier as you both focused on chasing your pleasure. You came first, and the stutter of your hips was enough to send Paige over the edge as well. You locked eyes, panting into each other’s mouths.

Barely giving you time to recover, Paige’s fingers were on you again, her thumb pressing on your abused clit. Your lips were nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting them as you tried not to scream. “It’s okay, you’re okay,” Paige said soothingly, kissing your clit. She easily slid two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly. You’d calmed down enough from your first orgasm that it was just teasing you more.

“Faster, Paige, please,” you whimpered. Paige instantly complied, starting to attack your clit with her mouth. You were grinding as you fucked yourself on her fingers, and she was letting you, her tongue still managing to stimulate your clit. Paige’s fingers curled just the right way and soon you were holding her head between your thighs as you came again.

Paige faced you, laying down on her side, and you held eye contact with her as you sucked your juices from her fingers.

“My turn,” you smirked, lightly pushing Paige onto her back to climb on top of her. Her face was flushed and her lips were slick with spit and your juices. You wanted to devour her. Leaning down to kiss Paige hungrily, your wet pussy slid against her abs and you moaned into her mouth.

You took the time to do the things you’d always wanted to do — biting her lips, sucking on her tits, leaving hickeys all over her body. Paige squeezed her legs shut as she writhed under your touch, so you pulled them apart, excited when you saw how wet she was.

“Need you,” Paige whined unexpectedly. Not wanting to deny her pleasure, you used your tongue to spread her wetness. You started to tease her clit with your fingers as you pushed your tongue inside her. Paige was squirming so much that you had to grab her thighs to keep her still.

You kept going until she was screaming that she was close, quickly replacing your tongue with your fingers as your mouth closed around her swollen clit. Paige grabbed the hand that was still on her thigh, squeezing it as she came. Her hips bucked wildly as she moaned your name like a prayer.

You were careful to be as gentle as possible as you went to lay down beside her. Paige was still too out of breath to speak, her body twitching with aftershocks of her orgasm. “So that meant something to you?” You felt the need to ask, turning to make eye contact with her.

She was already looking at you tenderly. “Of course it did… that you’re my girlfriend now, if that’s something you’d want,” she said nervously.

You couldn’t help but smile as you pecked her swollen lips. “Of course I want that, if it’s something you want,” you mirrored her words.

Paige was smiling now, too. “Shut up, you’re not funny!”

“I’m funnier than you, at least,” you retorted as you pressed yourself against her body.

#paige my love #intimacy #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader

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