#she's done and she is lovely simply lovely

[thewulf]

Bound by Shadows || Azriel

Summary: Request - I'm hoping you could write a fanfic where reader, Feyre's twin, who actually killed the wolf but let Feyre take the credit... and before she realizes what she's done Feyre is gone. She struggles with guilt and isolation in Velaris after the sisters transformation by the Cauldron.... Read Rest Here

A/N: OKAY I LOVE THIS. It got away from me a bit. I didn't realize how fun this world would be to dive into. Let me know your thoughts as always :)

Pairing: Azriel Shadowsinger x Female Reader (Feyre Archeron Twin Sister)

Word Count: 8.2k +

TW: General ACOTAR TW

Under the starlit skies of Velaris the City of Starlight pulses with a life of its own. Its vibrant lights reflecting off the river with laughter and music filling the air, breathing life into every cobblestone and corner. But for you the city’s brilliance only deepens the shadows that cling to your soul. Shadows that no light seems capable of dispelling.

You walked alone. Your steps aimless being driven by the restless guilt that gnaws incessantly at your conscience. Every whisper of the wind seems to accuse you, every glance from a passerby seems to pierce through the facade you barely maintain. The weight of the secret you harbor presses down on you with every step… the wolf, the woods, the dreadful slice of the arrow that was meant to protect Feyre not harm her. But Feyre stepped forward and shouldered the blame. She was taken from you in an instant and forced to face the horrors of the faerie lands. It was all to shield you her twin she thought of being too gentle, too fragile for the brutal truths of that world.

The transformation wrought by the Cauldron has only magnified everything. Every emotion, every fear, every shard of guilt. It was supposed to be a rebirth but for you it feels more like a slow descent into a nightmare from which you cannot awaken. The power that now courses through your veins feels like chains. A constant reminder of the price paid to the mother. Of the freedom you don’t believe you deserve.

As you wander through the bustling streets the sounds of celebration around you clash violently with the turmoil within. Families and lovers share warm, joyous moments. Their laughter echoing in the crisp night air while you drift among them. You were simply a specter unseen, untouched by the light of their joy. Your heart aches with a loneliness so profound it threatens to consume you whole. To reduce your existence to a mere shadow of regret and sorrow.

You find yourself on one of the many ornate bridges spanning the Sidra. A place you often found some sort of solace in. You leaned over the balustrade to gaze into the dark waters below. The reflection of the city’s lights dances across the surface, a stark contrast to the darkness that seems to stretch endlessly beneath. It is here in the quiet far enough away from the eyes of those who know you, those who worry over you, that your facade finally cracks.

Tears that were unbidden and unwelcome, spill over, tracing cold paths down your cheeks. You are tired. So incredibly tired of pretending. Of hiding the depth of your pain. You wish to scream so loud. To let out the anguish that fills you, but your voice is as lost as your soul feels in the face of your endless guilt. Instead, you just stare down at the dark waters with silent sobs wracking your body. It was better this way. You couldn’t let Feyre see you like this. She was finally so happy. So happy with her mate. Her Rhysand. You couldn’t threaten that happiness. You owed her so much more than that. You quite literally owed her your life. So, you would suck it up in solace. Cry it out on your own.

In the solitude of the night, you allowed yourself to feel your overwhelming emotions. To acknowledge the pain and the darkness. Little did you know you are not as alone as you believe. From the shadows an Illyrian figure watches you. His own heart heavy with unspoken secrets. Azriel was the spymaster of night court for a reason. He picked up on you disappearing for hours at a time when the others didn’t. He picked up on the fake smiles you threw everyone’s way. He seemed to pick up on it while the others didn’t… other than Feyre who seemed to watch you just as much as he did. He decided he would watch over you. For Feyre, his brothers mate. And for you. The woman who couldn’t seem to get used to being Fae as easily as your sisters did. The human turned Fae that consumed more of his thoughts than he cared to admit.

But for now, he waited behind his shadows. A silent guardian in the night recognizing that some battles must be faced alone before they can be shared.

You returned from the bustling markets of Velaris with arms laden with the myriad items Feyre requested. As you approach the townhouse the warm light from within spills out onto the cobblestones. It was a stark contrast to the dusk settling over the city. You pause at the door steeling yourself with a deep breath before stepping inside. Your smile as you hand the bags to Feyre doesn't quite reach your eyes. But she's too caught up in the moment to notice.

"Thank you so much," she says with a relief evident as she starts to unpack the food you’d volunteered to pick up for her. She pauses before she got too carried away giving you that look, the one you've come to know so well. The one that silently implores you to stay. To be a part of her world. "Will you stay for dinner? Everyone's coming over. Even Amren agreed to come. It would mean so much to me."

Her eyes are pleading and you know you can't refuse. Not when she's given up so much for you. With a nod you agree even as your stomach tightens at the thought of facing everyone. It was easy to fake your inner turmoil when it was only her or Rhys. But when it was the entirety of the Inner Circle it was harder to hide away. Inevitably someone would get you hooked in on a conversation. You haven't sat down with them since… well, since before the Cauldron. Since before everything changed. And that was almost an entire year ago now. You knew this request would come sooner or later. Though you were hoping for later you were going to suck it up for Feyre.

As the evening wears on the townhouse fills with laughter and conversation with everyone gathering in the familiar camaraderie that once felt like home to you. But now you feel like an outsider watching from the shadows even as you sit among them. At the dinner table you're terribly quiet. You were merely pushing food around your plate listening to the ebb and flow of conversations you can't force yourself to seem to join.

Feyre decided to sit beside you in hopes of calming your nerves. She notices. She notices the way your eyes were downturned. The way you occasionally nodded your head or smiled briefly pretending to be listening. The way you didn’t pick your fork up once. Her joy fades a little each time she glances your way. You didn’t notice the way her expression turned from mirth to concern. She squeezed your hand under the table in a silent message of solidarity and love. But even her touch can't pull you from the fog that's settled over you. You couldn’t help but wonder if this was your punishment? To live in a hazed state for thousands of years? Oh, how you wished to be a tiny little human again with the promise of dead after a hundred years or so.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table catches Feyre’s subtle, worried glances towards her twin. She meets his eyes with a silent conversation passing between them. She didn’t know what to do anymore. She needed help. He nods slightly. His expression was solemn, understanding the depth of her worry. His gaze then shifts to you filled with a quiet resolve. He knew you were struggling but didn’t pick up on just how much you were. You’d done a masterful job until tonight hiding it away.

Rhysand had felt the ripple of concern from Feyre long before she voiced it. Her distress over your withdrawal echoing within him. She watched you with a sister's keen eye and her silent worry bled into their shared bond. A testament to her deep care for you.

Azriel, Feyre is troubled by Y/N's state. As am I. Rhysand's thought reached out to his brother that was sitting next to you. There was a thread of urgency woven through the mental call. She's pulling away and Feyre feels it deeply. Keep an eye on her please? Help her if you can.

Azriel's presence in Rhysand's mind was immediate and calm. He was steady force amid the silent storm of concern. I'm already on it, Rhys. I’ve sensed it too, he assured. His mental voice as composed as the shadows he commanded. You don't need to worry. I’ve been watching over her not out of obligation, but because... because she matters to me. I’ll make sure she’s safe and supported.

Azriel’s vigilance came not from an order but from a place of quiet solidarity. His attunement to the nuances of emotion and the unspoken had already drawn him to your side. Rhysand’s request merely echoed the actions he’d already undertaken. His actions were born from a blend of duty and a deep, personal concern that Azriel rarely let show. In the face of Feyre's distress and now Rhysand’s request, he became a silent sentinel for you. He needed to ensure that you were not only protected but also truly seen and understood.

Dinner continues around you as you withdrew into yourself. The laughter a stark contrast to the turmoil raging within you. You're barely aware of Azriel's presence on your other side until you feel him beside you. His chair slightly closer than usual. His voice is soft, almost lost in the surrounding noise, as he leans in. "You don't have to be anything you're not, not here," he murmurs only for you to hear. "It’s okay to just be. To just breathe." His words meant to comfort felt like a lifeline in the sea of your tumultuous thoughts. You didn’t look at him for you were worried tears might spill over. But you nodded in acknowledgement letting him know that you heard him.

The evening slowly winds down and as the others linger over drinks and stories Azriel stays by your side. His presence a steady promise of understanding and patience. He doesn't push you to talk nor does he expect smiles. Instead, he offers the silent support you didn't know you needed, becoming a guardian not just of your safety, but of your peace.

Feyre watches this exchange with a glimmer of hope lighting up her worried features. Perhaps with Azriel's help you might find your way back to them. To yourself. Tonight, though, is just a small step in your journey back to yourself.

As everyone departs for the night you linger in the living room feigning interest in tidying up the small mess left behind. Feyre watches you for a moment with that same concern etching her features. But she decided against speaking, sensing your need for space.

Once the house is quiet you decide to step out for a walk under the night sky of Velaris. It had become your favorite routine. A routine that kept you grounded. A quick walk to your favorite spot on the Sidra. The city's soft lights reflect gently on the river casting dancing patterns on the water. It's beautiful yet the sight does little to ease the tightness in your chest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don't notice Azriel's approach until he's almost beside you. His presence is calming and somehow it doesn't startle you. Perhaps because in your heart you know he understands the need for quiet. His own demeanor is often just as reserved.

"Good evening," he says. His voice a low rumble. "Care for some company or would you prefer solitude tonight?"

You consider his offer for a moment. Company might not be so bad even though this was usually just a place for you. But it was Azriel. Someone who respects the silence as much as you do. "Company sounds nice, thank you," you reply with your voice softer than you intended.

Azriel nods falling into step beside you. As you walk his shadows play at your feet. It was a subtle yet comforting gesture. At one point one of his shadows curls around your hand. This small, almost imperceptible touch from his shadows offers a silent, comforting presence that envelops you in a sense of security. Neither of you speaks as you walk along the riverbank. The only sounds was the gentle lapping of water against the shore and the distant hum of the city. The silence between you is more than comfortable, filled with an unspoken understanding that words can sometimes be too cumbersome.

After a while though Azriel speaks up. He wasn’t looking at you but staring out at the water. "It's easy to feel lost in this city… even with its lights and crowds. Sometimes it feels like being surrounded by shadows even in the brightest part of the day."

You glance at him, surprised by the reflection of your own feelings in his words. "Yes, it does," you agree. You were feeling a weight lift slightly knowing that someone else understands.

He nods slightly at your words, "The shadows aren't all there is though. There are places, moments like these, that can offer some respite. And not all shadows are bad." He smiles looking down at the ones that clung to your feet.

His words make you look at him anew. You weren’t just seeing the spymaster or the warrior but someone who also seeks to find balance between the light and the dark. It makes you wonder if perhaps in this shared moment you might find a way to navigate your own shadows. They might not all be bad you had to agree with him.

You don't say much more as you walk back to the townhouse, but the silent agreement hangs between you, comforting and promising. Maybe, just maybe, you're not as alone as you thought.

The dawn is still a whisper of light across Velaris as you sit quietly by the Sidra. The gentle murmur of the river a soothing background to your thoughts that never seemed to shut the hell up. Lost in the reflections of the dancing water you hardly notice Azriel’s approach until he’s beside you. His presence as quiet as the morning. It was becoming a routine for him to join you on the river it seemed. Not that you minded. He might be the one person you’d happily accept to intrude on your solitude.

“You’re up early,” he remarks softly not wanting to startle you. His tone as gentle as the river’s flow.

You look up with a soft smile on your face. His familiar, reassuring presence is a comfort. “Just needed some air,” you reply with a yawn. Your voice carrying the weight of another sleepless night.

Azriel nods, understanding. He looks out over the water for a moment sharing the silence with you. Then, turning back to you, he suggests, “Come with me. I think I have something that might help clear your head. Help you to focus a bit.”

You’re hesitant. The idea of doing anything but sitting quietly feels daunting. But there’s something about his offer. The promise of relief, however temporary, that nudges you to your feet.

“It’s just training,” he adds. seeing your uncertainty. “Physical activity can be a good way to let out some of the emotions that are harder to express in words. We’ll take it slow. You set the pace.”

Trusting Azriel’s judgment, knowing he wouldn’t push you into something without reason, you stand and follow him towards the training grounds. The city is quietly waking around you and the walk is silent but comfortable. His presence a steady reassurance by your side. Something you were slowly growing to cherish.

As you reach the secluded training area the first rays of sunlight begin to warm the cool morning air. Azriel gives you a small, encouraging smile. “Let’s start simple. No pressure. Just you learning to trust your strength again.”

The training starts at an easy pace. Azriel guiding you through basic maneuvers. His patience was evident. But as your body begins to warm up with the activity and your focus sharpens on the movements. There was that sense of release you never knew could come. It was unfamiliar yet welcome that starts to take hold on you.

As the morning sun climbs higher the training session progresses under Azriel's watchful eye. You find yourself gradually syncing with the rhythm of the physical exertion. Each movement flushing out the restless energy that has been building up inside you. Azriel's guidance is firm yet encouraging and you start to feel a rare sense of accomplishment as you slowly master each new maneuver he throws at you.

But as the session intensifies Azriel begins to push you harder, increasing the pace and complexity of the drills. His softness changed into some else. You knew he was only pushing you to help but it was starting to become a little too much. You’d only been Fae for a year to his centuries. "Come on, Y/N, focus. You can handle this," he urges. Throwing a series of rapid, controlled strikes that you're meant to block and counter.

For a moment you rise to the challenge your movements sharp and sure. Yet the physical strain is relentless. All too soon it starts to mirror the inner struggled you've been trying to manage. The boundaries between physical exertion and emotional pain blur… each block and dodge feeling more like a fight against your inner demons rather than a simple training exercise.

Suddenly, one of Azriel's strikes comes a little too close, a little too fast. It isn't meant to hit you and it doesn't but the rush of air as it passes by your face triggers something within you. Panic seizes your chest and the walls you've been holding up begin to crumble. Your movements falter. Your hands drop to your sides rapidly as your breath catches in your throat.

You step back abruptly with short, ragged breaths. Azriel stops immediately, concern replacing the intensity in his eyes. "Hey, are you okay?" he asks all too softly this time. He watched with concern as you struggled to compose yourself.

You nod rapidly trying to blink back the tears that want to rush out. “I’m fine. Just tired.” You murmur. It didn’t even sound believable to you. You turned you back to him so he wouldn’t see the distraught look on your face.

He steps forward with a sadness etched deeply on his features. "It's more than just tiredness, isn't it?" he asks gently as he reached out but stopped short, giving you space yet showing his readiness to support.

You shake your head again trying to compose yourself. Willing yourself to rebuild the barriers crumbling around you. "I'm fine, really, just got a little carried away," you offer weakly with your back still turned, fearing that facing him might reveal too much.

But Azriel doesn’t retreat. Instead, his shadows do what he physically refrains from—they reach out for you. You feel a cool, soothing sensation as one shadow gently curls around your arm, not binding but comforting. It was like a silent message of empathy and support. The unexpected kindness, the soft touch of darkness that doesn’t demand or judge, only seeks to comfort. But it undoes you completely.

Your defenses shatter at the tender contact. Tears finally spilling over as you turn back to face him. The floodgates opened by the gentle brush of his shadow. "I'm not fine," you admit, your voice choked with emotion. "It's all just... it's too much sometimes. I feel like I'm drowning in what I had to do. In what Feyre had to endure because of me. All because of me."

Azriel listens with his gaze never wavering. His eyes were filled with compassion and a profound understanding. His shadow retracts slightly giving you a moment, respecting your space while keeping the silent promise of his presence.

He nods his head willing you to continue. "Let it out, Y/N. You don't have to carry this alone," he says quietly finding the courage to step closer now. He opened his arms to you in an offer of comfort that you no longer have the strength to refuse.

As you step into his embrace, allowing yourself to be held, the warmth of his body contrasts with the cool touch of his shadows creating a cocoon of safety around you. "I was the one who killed the wolf that started this whole mess," you confess through sobs. Your words muffled against his chest. "Feyre took the blame to protect me... because she thought I couldn't handle the consequences."

“It’s okay,” he whispers. His voice close to your ear. “You were never meant to carry this alone.” He pauses. His hand gently lifting your chin so you can look at him. “Feyre’s path was her own. Fate had a hand in it. She was meant to meet Rhysand through Tamlin. To find her way to the Night Court. It couldn’t have been you, Y/N. Your path is different and it’s still unfolding.”

You shake your head feeling the weight of it all. “But-“

Azriel’s hold tightens reassuringly. His wings stretched around you before he stops you. “She did what she believed was right, out of love. And now you need to allow yourself to be loved and supported, too. Let your family be here for you. Let me be here for you.” he pleads, his tone imbued with a promise. In the safety of Azriel’s wings with the gentle embrace of his shadows, you feel a lightness you haven’t felt in a long time.

Beneath the shelter of his wings Azriel holds you close feeling the profound shift within as your eyes meet. In that moment a golden thread previously unseen but always present tightens, binding your soul to his. The mating bond ignites with a radiant force, undeniable and transformative.

This newfound connection stirs a deep protectiveness in Azriel, an urge to cherish and guard you that feels both ancient and freshly awakened. Love pulses through this bond unspoken yet palpable aligning his heartbeat with yours. He experiences a profound sense of belonging, understanding now that every moment with you, every shared concern, was leading to this revelation.

With the emergence of the bond, Azriel, who often cloaked himself in mystery, finds in you a clarity that illuminates his existence. This bond does not overwhelm; instead, it completes him, brightening his path forward. The world around him expands promising a journey not walked alone but side by side, in step with each breath.

Yet, the magnitude of this discovery brings a mix of elation and a daunting sense of responsibility. You are vulnerable, your soul laid bare before him, and he is cautious not to burden you further. Internally, Azriel grapples with the desire to declare the bond versus the need to provide you with stability and support without the shock of this revelation.

He resolves to keep this monumental discovery to himself for now, focusing on being your steadfast support. His shadows as a subtle extension of his will, curl gently around you both. They offered a protection and comfort without overwhelming you with the truth.

Azriel knows he must seek Rhysand’s counsel to navigate the complexities of this bond with sensitivity and respect for your emotions. As he holds you he silently vows to take this journey at a pace that honors both your readiness and the bond’s potential. Wrapped in his embrace, Azriel stands as your guardian bonded by fate yet guided by a deep respect for the journey your heart needs to undertake.

"You've been strong today," Azriel whispers into your hair as he senses your grip tighten. "Let's head back home. You need rest." His voice is as soothing as the twilight and his offer is tender, without any urgency that might hint at the truth simmering beneath his calm exterior.

The walk back from the training grounds is quiet, filled with a companionable silence that speaks of shared struggles and mutual care. As Azriel guides you to Feyre's studio, where she immerses herself in swathes of color and light, his touch lingers reassuringly on your arm. It's an affirmation of his presence, his support, his unspoken pledge to be there for you, come what may.

You offer him a soft smile. One that acknowledges the solace his presence brings even though you were still oblivious to the tectonic shift in his inner landscape. Azriel returns your smile with a quiet intensity, a vow that when the time comes for the bond to reveal itself to you he'll be there, just as he is now—steadfast, protective, and utterly devoted.

A subtle shift in Azriel’s demeanor as he prepares to leave catches Feyre's sharp eye. There's a fleeting tension, a trace of something potent and profound flickering in the depths of his usually inscrutable eyes. It's a glimpse of vulnerability. An undercurrent of panic that he's quick to disguise but not before Feyre takes note. Something significant has unsettled the shadowsinger and it likely had to do with you.

With a nod that holds more gravity than usual Azriel turns to go. His steps are measured but the urgency in his exit is apparent to anyone who knows him well. Once he steps beyond the view of the townhouse his wings unfurl, a dark silhouette against the Velaris skyline. He takes to the air with a speed driven by the need for counsel. For understanding the newly realized bond weighing on him with a mix of awe and anxiety.

He lands at the House of Wind with an intensity that is uncharacteristic for him. His feet touching down on the stone with a thud. There's no time for hesitation as he makes his way to where he knows he'll find Rhysand, perhaps Cassian too. The door to the study bursts open under his force and he stands there as a figure riddled with the shock of his own heart's awakening.

Inside the study, Rhysand and Cassian pause mid-conversation as the unexpected clamor announces Azriel's approach. Concern flickers over their faces. A stark, thunderous arrival is not Azriel's way.

"Are you alright, Az?" Cassian is the first to react. His voice tinged with concern as he notes Azriel's agitated state.

Azriel pauses before catching his breath. His demeanor one of a man grappling with overwhelming news. "It's the mating bond," he manages to say with his voice tight of emotion. "With Y/N—it just... it just snapped into place."

Rhysand rises from his chair. His expression shifting to one of understanding as he processes Azriel's words. The air in the room thickens with the significance of his declaration and there's a moment of collective stillness as they all absorb the meaning.

Cassian’s previous levity fades into a solemn gravity, reflecting the seriousness of Azriel's revelation. "That’s... big news, Az. How are you feeling about this?" he asks as he stepped closer in caution.

Rhysand, maintaining his composure, offers a supportive nod. "This is a momentous time, Azriel. We’re here for you, whatever you need," he assures him embodying the role of the leader who understands the profound implications of such a bond.

Azriel exhales deeply the reality of the situation settling in. "It's overwhelming," he concedes. A frown creasing his brow. "I mean, I hoped, maybe even wished for it. But now that it’s here, it feels... heavy." He looks up. His expression serious. "She’s still healing. I need to be careful. Need to make sure this doesn’t overwhelm her."

Rhysand gives a supportive nod. "Just keep being there for her, Az. You’ve always managed to support her without pushing. This doesn’t change your approach just your understanding of the connection."

Cassian smirks, pushing off from the table and clapping Azriel on the back with a bit more force than necessary. "Look at you all serious and broody—more than usual, I mean. Come on, Az, you know you're probably the only one who can handle this with the perfect blend of mystery. Besides," he adds with a wry grin, "have you seen the way she looks at you when you're not looking? That’s not just gratitude my friend. It’s like she’s hit the jackpot and she doesn’t even know it yet."

Azriel can’t help but crack a small smile despite the turmoil inside. "Thanks, Cass. I just don’t want to mess this up."

"Don’t worry so much, brother," Cassian chuckles, his tone light but earnest. "You’re doing fine. Plus, if you start floating around like a lovestruck bat, I’ll be here to pull you back down."

Rhysand laughs softly before shaking his head at the general. "He’s right, though. Take it step by step, Azriel. Let her come to terms with her own feelings. When she’s ready it’ll be right for both of you."

Feeling somewhat lighter Azriel nods appreciatively at his brothers. "Step by step," he repeats, firming his resolve. With a final nod he steps back into the night bolstered by the mix of Cassian’s humor and Rhysand’s leadership. He was ready to face the future with a heart full of hope and a mind cautious of the delicate balance he needs to maintain.

Back in the townhouse Feyre greets you with that mischievous grin that heralds some sisterly teasing. She sets her paintbrush down before wiping her hands on a cloth as her eyes sparkle with playful curiosity. "So, what did you do to him?" she teases with a smirk on her face.

You frown genuinely puzzled by her question. "What? Nothing, I... we were just training, then he said he had to go." Your voice trails off mirroring your confusion over Azriel's sudden change in demeanor.

Feyre chuckles, shaking her head as she picks up her brush again. "That man is always so mysterious. But don't worry it's probably just Azriel things. Or maybe, just maybe, you're the perfect distraction for our dear spymaster."

"What are you on about?" you ask while feeling a mix of amusement and bewilderment at her jest.

"Oh, please!" Feyre laughs, her brush dancing over the canvas. "He looks at you like every moment you spend together is something precious. Like you're a rare painting he can't quite believe he's stumbled upon."

"You're imagining things," you dismiss her. Shaking your head with a smile. "Azriel is just being kind. He's like that with everyone."

Feyre gives you a knowing look. Her smirk broadening. "Sure, he’s kind to everyone, but with you it’s different. He doesn’t look at anyone else quite like he looks at you. Like you’ve cast a spell on him and he’s trying to figure out how to live with the enchantment."

Her words make you pause. The playful insinuation tugging at the edges of your thoughts. Despite your dismissal Feyre’s observation lingers. A teasing possibility that maybe there's a hint of truth in her playful assertions. The room fills with your laughter, a sound that masks the flutter of curiosity her words have sparked.

Unbeknownst to you while you puzzle over Azriel's sudden departure, Feyre's mind is swiftly connecting with Rhysand's. A silent inquiry flits through their bond: Something's up with Azriel, he seemed... off. Did I miss something?

Rhysand's mental response comes with a chuckle that Feyre can almost hear: He’s fine, love. Just had a bit of a revelation. He’ll share when he's ready.

A spark of mischief lights up Feyre’s eyes as understanding dawns on her. Her lips curve into a sly, knowing grin. But she carefully masks any hint of her newfound knowledge from you. "You know, I think we deserve some fun today. Just us twins. You’ve been pushing hard with all that training and brooding," she suggests. Her voice bubbling with an excitement that piques your curiosity.

"Really? What did you have in mind?" you ask. Your earlier confusion over Azriel's behavior giving way to intrigue at Feyre's sudden enthusiasm.

"Oh, just a day for us to unwind and maybe get into a little mischief," Feyre replies, winking. "We can leave the mysteries of shadowy spymasters behind and focus on spoiling ourselves."

You laugh while nodding in agreement, relieved to set aside the morning's puzzles. "That sounds perfect, actually."

As the day unfolds with Feyre leading the way with her occasional secretive smiles and the warmth of her company envelop you, making you feel cherished and a part of something larger than just sisterly bonding. Every now and then she throws you a look filled with unspoken laughter as if she's in on a joke that’s yet to be told adding an intriguing layer to your day out.

"Enjoy today," Feyre says at one point. Her grin infectious. "Because who knows? Tomorrow you might find yourself swept off your feet in ways you never expected." Her words are light, but they dance with implication, leaving you wondering about the possibilities that tomorrow might bring.

As the days unfold since your training session you begin to notice an unusual shift in Azriel's behavior when he's around you. Always the quiet, stoic presence, he now seems to carry an air of nervousness that is both surprising and endearing. It's as if he's forgotten how to be around you. His typically smooth demeanor replaced with an awkwardness that sends a ripple of amusement throughout your days.

During your daily routines, whether you're practicing combat skills or just strolling through the lush gardens of the Night Court, Azriel is consistently by your side. Yet, his typical quiet confidence seems to falter. Today when he hands you a training sword his fingers not only linger but also tremble slightly against yours. The contact is brief but the moment his skin brushes against yours a visible blush creeps up his neck coloring his cheeks in a rare show of discomposure.

"Sorry," he stutters. Quickly retracting his hand as if scorched by the brief contact. He averts his gaze making sure to look anywhere but at you. His discomfort palpable in the tight set of his shoulders.

You can't help but tilt your head eyeing him with a mixture of concern and curiosity. "Azriel, are you alright?" you ask with a hint of a smile on your lips. Your voice is soft though hoping to ease some of his evident tension. The gardens around you bloom vibrantly. A stark contrast to Azriel’s suddenly flustered state.

He clears his throat attempting to regain some of his usual composure. "Yes, I'm... fine," he manages. His voice a notch higher than usual. He meets your gaze again holding it for a moment longer than he intends. The intensity of his stare both confusing and thrilling.

Just then as if to spite Azriel, Cassian strolls by and upon noticing Azriel's flushed face and your puzzled expression he can't help but let out a snicker. "Lost your cool, Shadowsinger?" he teases, winking at you before continuing on his way with a chuckle. "You’re usually smoother than this, brother!"

Azriel shoots Cassian a brief glare but there's a resigned humor in his eyes that suggests he knows just how out of character he must seem. As Cassian’s laughter fades into the distance Azriel finally turns back to you attempting a sheepish smile.

"It seems I'm a bit out of sorts today," he admits. His voice finally steadying. "Nothing to worry about, really."

Watching Azriel grapple with this uncharacteristic awkwardness only endears him more to you. There’s a sweetness in his struggle. A reminder that beneath the composed façade of the Night Court’s spymaster lies a depth of emotion rarely seen but profoundly felt.

On a tranquil afternoon in the Night Court, you find yourself relaxing in one of the quieter gardens alongside Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel. The air is filled with gentle laughter and the soft rustling of leaves. Cassian and Nesta are notably absent, presumably because Cassian has taken it upon himself to "help" Nesta with some errands—a pursuit that everyone knows often ends in playful bickering and affectionate banter.

Elain has also opted for a day out with Lucien exploring new botanical gardens on the outskirts of the city. Her passion for plants and Lucien's support in her endeavors showcases the growing bond between them.

The conversation flows easily until Rhys, with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, steers it towards Azriel’s recent scouting mission. "Azriel here stumbled upon something quite intriguing recently, didn’t you?" he teases while watching Azriel closely.

Caught off-guard Azriel’s response is delayed, his eyes widening slightly as if Rhys had tread into forbidden territory. "It was nothing out of the ordinary," he finally mutters. Though his voice holds a trace of unease.

Feyre jumps into the fray. Her tone laced with playful curiosity. "Oh, but I heard it was quite the discovery. Rare and fascinating… something that might deeply engage a man’s interest."

You laugh completely oblivious to the underlying meaning and look at Azriel with raised eyebrows. "What was it, Az? Some kind of hidden gem or a lost artifact?"

There’s a brief moment where Azriel’s composure falters under your direct gaze, his eyes meeting yours before quickly glancing away. He recovers quickly, however, a slight flush on his cheeks. "Yes, something like that," he agrees, his voice steadying. "A discovery that could indeed change one’s perspective for a lifetime."

Rhys doesn't miss a beat adding with a light chuckle, "Let’s hope it’s not kept secret too long. Such treasures are better when shared, right?"

Feyre nods enthusiastically. Her eyes dancing with amusement. "Especially when they bring people closer together, right, Az?"

Azriel meets Feyre’s gaze. His expression settling into a subtle smile that hints at his deep thoughts. “Indeed,” he replies quietly, the single word rich with unspoken meaning, affirming the sentiment with his usual succinct eloquence.

As the conversation moves on the jokes and laughter continue, your heart warmed by the newfound perspective you found with them. Azriel watches you with a gentle, albeit slightly wistful smile. He noticed how much more you're around, how your laughter fills the air more often, and how your vibrant personality begins to shine through once more. His heart fills with a mixture of relief and deep affection, seeing the signs of your healing. In these moments he cherishes the progress you've made feeling hopeful about the future. He was ready to support you every step of the way as the true nature of his discovery waits to be shared with you.

As the weeks blend into months, the connection between you and Azriel deepens. It was nurtured by shared moments and his unwavering support. On a crisp evening as the sun begins its descent painting the sky with strokes of pink and gold, Azriel brings you to a secluded hilltop that overlooks Velaris. This spot was known only to him and offers a panoramic view of the city as it starts to twinkle with the first lights of evening, the natural grassy surface underfoot soft and inviting.

Standing close by his presence was both comforting and solid, Azriel shares a story, his voice low and warm, recounting a humorous mishap from his early days as a spymaster. The tale is endearing, revealing a less guarded side of him and laughter bubbles up freely from your throat.

As your laughter transitions into a soft chuckle, you turn to face him. The last rays of the sunset bathe Azriel in a warm, golden light that illuminates his features, casting a glow that outlines him like an ethereal halo. His eyes that were filled with affection and a hint of amusement, meet yours. In that instant something profound shifts within you.

It feels as if a key has turned, unlocking something wondrous and overwhelming. The mating bond, which has been delicately weaving its way through each of your interactions, now clicks into place with perfect clarity. The sensation is electrifying yet profoundly comforting. Resonating through your very being.

Your breath catches and your heart races—not just from the shock of the realization but from the undeniable rightness that surges through you. Azriel, noticing the subtle transformation in your expression halts his story. A flicker of concern crossing his face.

"Are you okay?" he asks with his voice tinged with worry. The humor from his story now replaced by attentive care.

A mix of joy and amazement washes over you as you feel a comforting swirl of his shadows around your feet. Like curious creatures affirming this new connection. "Azriel, I think... I think the mating bond just…," you trailed off unsure how to continue. Your voice was filled with awe. The realization brings a new depth to your smile as you meet his gaze which is now shimmering with a mixture of relief and happiness.

"That's what I've been feeling," Azriel breathes out, a tender smile spreading across his face as he steps closer. He reaches out gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. "I've been waiting, hoping you would feel it too when the time was right."

Taking his hand, you feel a warmth that goes beyond physical touch. A connection that seeps into the depths of your soul. "I’m glad it’s you," you say quietly, sincerely, the words flowing easily.

Azriel’s other hand comes up to gently cup your cheek. His touch feather light. "And I’m honored it’s you," he responds. His gaze locked with yours. The world around you—the city lights, the soft whisper of the evening breeze—fades into a gentle backdrop to the profound connection you share.

In this moment with Azriel’s shadows dancing around, playful, and protective, you feel a sense of completeness. A promise of endless possibilities. Together, bonded not just by fate but by a mutual understanding you know that whatever the future holds you'll get to navigate it side by side.

As the realization of the mating bond settles between you, Azriel's shadows seem to take on a life of their own. They swirled around you both with a newfound enthusiasm. The delicate tendrils of darkness weave around your legs and occasionally brush against your hands as if testing and reinforcing the connection that has just been acknowledged.

Azriel watches with a tender amusement as his shadows interact with you, their movements more animated than usual. "They seem to have taken quite a liking to you," he comments. His voice warm with affection and a hint of pride. "They're not usually this... attentive."

As the shadows continue their gentle dance around you, one particularly daring tendril snakes up your arm, its touch lighter than a feather. You can't help but laugh. The sound echoing softly in the quiet of the evening. With a delighted grin you reach out to trace the path of the shadow with your fingertips, marveling at the cool, tingling sensation it leaves on your skin.

Azriel continues watching with an affectionate roll of his eyes accompanying his half-smirk. "You're going to spoil them," he teases. His tone light but full of warmth.

Encouraged by your positive reaction another shadow playfully darts forward and mimics the motion of a gentle kiss on your cheek. You giggle with joy, your hand touching the spot in mock surprise and then you're both laughing. A shared moment of joy and wonder at the peculiar yet endearing behavior of the shadows.

Azriel shakes his head, but his eyes shine with amusement. "Now you've done it. They're going to expect this king of attention all the time," he jokes as the shadows around him swirled in what you swear could be shadowy laughter.

"You know, I think I'm okay with that," you respond still smiling as you watch the shadows retreat slightly, as if bashful from the attention. "They're quite charming. Just like someone else I know." You glance up at Azriel with a playful smirk. Enjoying the light flush that colors his cheeks at the compliment.

The shadows, seemingly pleased with their role in this light-hearted exchange, settle more calmly around you both like a contented sigh after a bout of laughter. The protective circle they form feels like a gentle embrace not just from Azriel but from all parts of him.

As the laughter fades Azriel's expression turns tender, his gaze softening as he searches your face looking for any sign of unease. "But seriously," he says with his voice low and earnest, "are you really okay?" His concern is palpable. The bond between you making every emotion, every nuance of feeling that much more intense and meaningful.

You meet his gaze feeling a surge of warmth from his sincere concern. Smiling gently, you nod, the tranquility of the moment filling you with a profound sense of peace. "I really am okay. For the first time in a long time," you admit. Your voice steady and sure. The confession feels like a significant acknowledgment of the journey you've been on and the role Azriel, and his shadows, have played in it.

Azriel's smile in response is radiant. A look of relief and happiness that brightens his entire demeanor. "That's all I’ve ever wanted to hear," he murmurs. His voice soft with emotion. He stands closer, his hand gently squeezing yours. "Come on, love," he whispers with a twinkle in his eyes. "Let's fly home."

With a graceful motion Azriel unfurls his expansive wings, the dark feathers shimmering under the starlight. The sight never fails to take your breath away. He wraps an arm securely around your waist, his touch reassuring. "Ready?" he asks. His voice a low rumble filled with excitement and anticipation.

With a nod you cling to him, feeling the rush of air as he leaps into the sky. Velaris unfolds below you. It was a gorgeous tapestry of lights and shadows. The wind was cool and exhilarating against your face. Flying with Azriel, held close against his chest, the city sprawling beneath you is an experience that feels as if it straddles the line between dream and reality.

The flight is swift and smooth. The quiet only broken by the rushing wind and the steady beat of Azriel's powerful wings. The world seems to shrink away, leaving only the two of you soaring through the night sky. As the House of Wind comes into view Azriel’s descent is gentle, a reminder of his skill and care for you.

You land softly on the balcony, the cool night breeze playing around you, still wrapped in the warmth of his embrace. Just as you touch down the laughter and lively banter of the Inner Circle reach your ears from inside.

As you and Azriel step through the grand doors of the House of Wind the lively atmosphere of the Inner Circle greets you. Cassian's booming voice fills the foyer as he spots you descending from the balcony. "Finally decided to join us, huh? Or were you two plotting to take over Velaris with your love-struck scheming?" he teases, winking not so conspicuously.

Rhysand joins in with a sly grin. His eyes twinkling with mischief. "I think they were busy weaving shadows and starlight. Look how they landed, like a pair of night-blooming flowers." His voice was laden with humor and draws a round of chuckles from around the room.

Feyre, Nesta, and Elain watch from the side, their expressions varying degrees of amusement and affection. Feyre's eyes meet yours and she gives you an approving nod. Her smile suggesting she understands more than she lets on. Nesta’s smirk is more enigmatic but supportive while Elain’s gentle gaze is filled with romantic delight at the scene unfolding before her.

Amid the teasing Azriel keeps you close, his arm remaining protectively around your waist. The warmth of his embrace reassures you. His presence a calming force against the good-natured ribbing. "Ignore them," he murmurs softly against your ear, just loud enough for you to hear over the laughter. His voice is rich with affection and a hint of playfulness that only you are privy to.

"You make it sound so easy," you whisper back, unable to suppress a smile feeling buoyed by the love filling the room.

As the evening progresses the light banter continues, with everyone occasionally casting teasing glances your way, making playful comments about the inseparable duo you and Azriel have become. Despite the jests there’s an underlying current of genuine happiness for you both. A celebration of the deepening bond that everyone seems to recognize and respect.

The night unfolds with shared stories, laughter, and an occasional clinking of glasses in toasts, not just to the night but to new beginnings and magical connections. As you stand by Azriel’s side, surrounded by friends who are more like family. You feel a profound sense of belonging and happiness. Here in the heart of the Night Court, under the watchful eyes of the stars and the soft glow of the city, you are home—not just in place, but in heart, bound by love, laughter, and the eternal dance of shadows and light.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!) : @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @kenn-spencerswifey @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @hiireadstuff @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

#azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #azriel x y/n #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel acosf #azriel one shot #azriel imagine #azriel oneshot #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel shadowsinger x you #azriel supremacy #azriel acomaf #azriel blurb #feyre archeron #feyre x sister reader #feyre twin sister #rhysand #rhys acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #shadowsinger x reader

[creedslove]

JOEL'S EX WIFE WANTING HIM BACK - HEADCANONS ✨

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: hi besties!!! Just a small little idea I got while I was watching some good old female rivalry soap opera drama over breakfast ❤️

Warnings: Sarah is a teen here ❤️

• when you got together with Joel, Sarah was already 12, her mom had been gone since she was a baby and though neither of them had any problems about talking about what happened, it wasn't a frequent subject, even if they treated it with naturally, they didn't like talking about it and it was completely understandable, after all, Joel had been abandoned with a weeks old baby and that baby had to grow up without her mother around

• so you always simply decided to pretend she never really existed in the first place, and technically, in your life, she never really did it, because from the moment you began dating Joel, he wasn't her ex-husband anymore, but instead, he was your boyfriend, and Sarah wasn't really her daughter, but your stepdaughter and you both had learned how to love and enjoy each other's company

• you were leading a happy life with the Millers, being part of their household and falling into the same routine as they did, as you spent longer at their place than at your own, until it didn't make any sense for you to keep paying rent, after all, you and Joel were very much together and in love and the natural course of your relationship would be of course, getting married or something like that

• you were happy with your little family, Sarah's issues regarding her mom seemed to be filled up pretty good by you once you joined the family, as she finally had someone she could talk to about boys and other girl stuff. She also really approved yours and Joel's relationship, always commenting on how happy you made her dad and how nice it was to have a more family like routine

• things were good and happy and you couldn't wish for anything more than that, you were as pleased as you could be, and you were pretty sure Joel was the man of your dreams, there was no way you could love someone as much as you loved him and so was the story of how the Millers became a very happy family

• and that was why it shocked the fourth of you - because Tommy was hella shocked as well - when Sarah's mom, Angela, decided to get in touch with Joel; she had found him on Facebook and messaged him, much to his shock, he'd done the same with Sarah, just like that, texting the daughter she'd abandoned as if she was just an old pal saying hello after losing touch for years

• at first, the two of them decided to ignore it, not sure how to act or how to even respond to it, but after a couple of days more in which Angela kept insisting on texting, more like begging Joel for a chance to talk, he decided to talk to his daughter and get to a conclusion together and after considering a lot together, they decided they would answer to her and see what she wanted

• and of course Angela sent quite a few sob sad texts saying how hard things were for her, how much she'd missed her family and mostly her daughter and how she regretted leaving. Joel wasn't quite convinced with that, quite the opposite, he was still bitter and angry at everything that went on, but he could tell Angela's words somehow messed up with Sarah's feelings, after all, she was a reject baby by her mom and at some level, she needed her approval in any way

• so Joel and Sarah agreed to meet up with Angela again, something small, at a coffee shop where they could all sit down and talk things through so they could see how things went between them, you'd also decided not to show up, it was such an intimate moment, you didn't belong in that scenario and you also had no reasons to be suspicious of Joel, you loved and trusted him and he trusted and loved you back, there was no reason to worry about anything at all

• you were genuinely happy to know Sarah had warmed up for her mom and the two of them hit off, having a lot in common and deciding to spend more time together, going on dinners, lunches and movie sessions together; it seemed Angela's presence was a benefit for them, and it was, you liked to see Sarah so happy about her return, it only became a problem when Angela started to show up more and more often at Joel's home

• it was your home too, and as much as you didn't want to be selfish or annoying, you had to admit it bothered you A LOT she was all the time around, at first she started with smaller things, such as visiting you all on Sunday afternoon, or bringing up a dessert, which of course, had to be Joel's favorite and kept gushing about the times they were still married; Angela was a pretty woman, you couldn't deny that, and the fact she seemed so willing to be nice and pleasant around her ex-husband

• and that imposition of her presence into your house and your family was beginning to bother you even more; suddenly, Sarah didn't want to go to the mall with you anymore, instead, she wanted to go with her mom. She didn't want to bake cookies with you anymore because your cookies had that sugar thing in the bottom so she liked her mom's better and as much as you tried understanding Sarah needed and had all the right to enjoy her mom's company and presence, it still hurt you, because you missed Sarah, and yet, it felt as if you weren't important to her anymore

• Seeing the shifts in your dynamics with Sarah, Joel tried to be understanding and even offered himself to talk to her, but you dismissed the idea, it was embarrassing enough you were feeling jealous, you didn't need Joel to get into the middle of that, but it still made you upset when Sarah decided to go to the movies with her mom to watch the newest Ghostbusters movie you two had agreed on going together

• and just as Angela stole Sarah from you, she was more than willing to steal Joel as well: she wanted him, he was even more handsome, his business became successful and he lived comfortably and now Sarah wasn't an annoying baby anymore, it was fun to be around her and she wanted her family back

• so to you, things started going sour when you decided to stop by Joel's business to bring him lunch; you'd prepared him a pretty good lunchbox and you were very excited to see his reaction, however, when you got to his small office, you found him and Angela eating a foot long sub, as it was kind of an inside joke between them from when they were young

"oh shit baby, I had no idea you'd bring me lunch, if I knew it..."

• Joel said wiping his mouth with a napkin as he had sauce on his beard like an idiotic child would and it made your blood boil, Angela simply smirked at you and you knew exactly what she was doing, your gut feeling was right all along, she was a filthy bitch

"it's fine Joel, it's just a sandwich, it's not like you're cheating"

• you didn't know exactly why you said that, it was the first time in your life you had ever said that towards Joel because it had never even crossed your mind there might be a possibility of it happening, but once you said those sour words, an awkward silence, a think tension in the room spread and you felt extremely uncomfortable to be there

"I'm sorry, you can give the lunchbox to Tommy in case he hasn't had lunch if you want, that way the food won't go to waste"

• you told Joel and turned to Angela, you didn't want to hide how much you didn't like the fact she snuck into his office to bring him lunch like a devoted wife

"you know, it's an odd choice to bring your ex-husband lunch instead of your daughter, I'm sure Sarah is starving right now..."

• in the evening, Joel felt very bad about what had happened, he hadn't done anything wrong, but at the same time it was wrong because even if it was just a sandwich, it wasn't about the sandwich but rather who had brought it to him, he knew it had hurt your feelings and he wanted to make it up to you, so he arrived home, using all his charms, his puppy eyes, his sweet talking and his soft neck kisses to convince you to go out with him; he was going to take you out for dinner: at a restaurant, not a bar for beer and burgers, but an actual meal

• you enjoyed your time with him, appreciating his effort to make something nice for you, so you grabbed a table, ordered meals and enjoyed each other's companies, as Joel held your hand and talked about his day, telling you how much he'd missed you and how gorgeous you were, dinner was going smoothly and what happened during lunch time had almost faded from your mind, when you heard someone clearing their throat

"oh hey... Enjoying some romantic dinner? That's a good place, right? Joel used to bring me here every so often, money was very short back then, but he always made an effort"

• Angela gave the two of you a bright smile, loving every single ounce of anger that clearly went through your face, what the fuck was that disgusting woman doing there? Why did she have to ruin your date night like that? It made your blood boiling, Joel immediately sensed the tension and tried coming up with something to say, but Angela just shrugged

"I came over just to grab myself some dinner, excuse me and enjoy your evening"

• she faked sympathy and blew Joel a kiss, knowing damn well the whole evening was already ruined for you, which made her pretty good about herself

• once you got home, you decided to have a heartfelt conversation with Joel, tell him every single thing that was bothering you, after all, communication had always been a big deal for you and it was important for you to open up and be straightforward about the matter, and he agreed with you, he said Angela was crossing the boundary and he assured you he was gonna talk to her

• so during the next few days, things were alright again between you and your sweet Joel; you were still very much in love and Sarah had been so busy with her tests at school, you didn't even hear of Angela's name and you'd be lying if you said you weren't happy about it, it was a relief she wasn't around and you even suggested Joel to make barbecue on Saturday, you'd have an extra shift but then you could enjoy the weekend with your family

• he gladly accepted it and you spent the rest of your week quite excited for it, you liked his barbecue, it was such a dad trait he had and you wanted to spend some time in bed with him too, once you arrived from work, you smiled as you saw Tommy's truck and you could smell the delicious scent of food, as you got off your own car, you went straight to the backyard, smiling from ear to ear

• but it didn't last long, your smile died when you spotted Angela; she was wearing a short summer dress and laughed happily at something Joel said, it must've been so funny because Sarah was laughing too. Angela was holding a bowl of egg salad and the moment she saw you, her own smile died, as if she was the one who had her day ruined by an intruder in her family, and not the other way around

• you frowned as Sarah sighed at seeing you, it didn't take a rocket science genius to see she was disappointed in seeing you there, as if you had got in the way between her mom and dad, you stared at Joel, your eyes filling up with angry tears as he immediately walked to you, holding you by the waist

"baby..."

"I'm going to the bathroom to wash my face and when I come back I don't wanna see this woman here, I've had enough, I don't care if she's your ex or Sarah's mom, she clearly wants to take my place and sometimes I feel like she has already..."

"don't say that, baby girl, that's not true"

"so get rid of her Joel"

• you left to the bathroom so you could freshen up and clear up your mind; hoping she would be gone by then, you didn't want to see her at all, so once you stepped into the kitchen, you were ready to start your weekend, with the exception of the scene before your eyes: Angela's lips on Joel's

• you felt as if you lost the ground from under your feet, and even if Joel shoved her away from him and began apologizing one hundred times, you'd had enough; Angela got what she wanted: you out of the way

• you ignored everything Joel said, as you blinked your tears and shook your head, leaving the house, the house that used to be your home, but now you weren't so sure; maybe all you did all that time was fill up the absence of Angela, and now, that Joel and Sarah had the original one, they didn't need you anymore

• that was only one out of many thoughts that crossed your mind, you didn't want to believe that, you loved Joel and Sarah and you wanted to continue thinking they also love you, but your heart was broken and Joel Miller was to blame 💔

____

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal headcanon #pedro pascal headcanons #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller headcanon #joel miller headcanons

[sweetestdesire]

3:28AM

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader wakes up Quinn Hughes with a very important question at three in the morning.

“Hey.” Y/N poked Quinn’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble underneath her cheek. “Quinn?” She shoved his chest, making him groan as his arms tightened around her. His upper body was bare, and the warm skin against hers felt like home, but it was simply not enough to have her go to sleep. “Quinn, wake up. C’mon.” She insisted, each word was spoken with a poke to his rib cage, and Quinn hissed, rolling over in bed to turn away with his back to her.

“No.” He mumbled sleepily. His voice was low, words slurred in his tired state, but it did little to break her resolve. She simply poked his back instead.

“Quinn, it’s important.” Y/N whispered urgently. He waited a few moments before ultimately grumbling as he gave in, turning to face her as his eyes glared at her while he rubbed the sleep out of them.

“What? What is it?” Quinn asked, his voice flat.

“Okay, so.” Y/N grinned. Quinn raised an eyebrow, and he didn’t like where this was heading even if he didn’t exactly know where this was heading. “If we were like, I don’t know, forbidden lovers or something, and we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

“It’s three in the goddamn morning, Y/N.” Quinn groaned, rubbing his face exasperatedly with his hand. Peering at her from the side, he exhaled at her pout. “Don’t make that face at me. Okay, you know what? Go ahead.”

Quinn always gave in when it came to her, and at times like these, it concerned him a little just how far he’d go for her. That much control in her hands over him couldn’t be good, but still, he trusted her. Blindly, with no doubts, Quinn always trusted her. Although, right now, he was second-guessing his choices.

“Okay, as I was saying,” Y/N huffed, “if we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

Quinn was tired and cranky, and his muscles ached, and his eyelids were the heaviest they’ve been with sleep, but still, he sighed before pondering over an answer for her question. And it was sweet, really, how he always indulged her in her mindless thoughts, no matter how pointless or how late. He always had a soft spot for her, and even if he rethought his choices sometimes, he couldn’t ever bring himself to regret them.

“Like... to another country?” Y/N hummed in confirmation. “Then I guess France.” He mumbled.

Resting her chin on his chest, Y/N peered up at him, his arm curling around her and pulling her closer. “How come?”

“So that I can push you off that big ass tower and finally get a good night’s sleep.” Quinn grunted, closing his eyes with a yawn.

Scowling, Y/N slapped his chest, making him scowl back. They both glared half-heartedly at each other, his eyes boring into hers. And he had to be up soon, but all thoughts of rest were whisked away for a moment when he caught a glimpse of her in the dark room, nothing but the moon offering any sort of light.

“Well, I wouldn’t run away with you if you treated me like that.” Y/N muttered, adding, “Jerk.” after a few moments just to ensure she got her point across.

Quinn snickered, and his arm tightened its grip on her. He felt safe because he always spoke through his actions, no matter how big or small. The way his arms grasped her, how they always kept her in place, right by his side spoke figures. His love was pure, it was raw, and it was real. She cracked a smile at his chuckles, the soft sound melting her heart and then some.

“I’m kidding, baby.” Quinn grinned, softly pecking her forehead. “I wouldn’t blow all that money on a plane just to push you off a building. I can do that anywhere.”

Rolling her eyes at how pleased he seemed at his answer, Y/N grabbed a loose strand of hair resting on his forehead, twirling the ends as she hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, if you’re about done with the shitty jokes.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that they're not shitty.” He grumbled, poking a finger at her side.

“Why else do you wanna go there?” He shrugged, mindlessly stroking her back with his palm, looking off out the window.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it supposed to be like a romantic place?” Y/N stared at him for a moment, blinking, and for a second, he wondered if he said something wrong. And then she broke into a fit of giggles, making him stare at her bewildered as a soft blush dusted over his cheeks.

“Oh, Quinny.” Y/N snorted. “My little hopeless romantic.” She teased, pinching his cheek. The blush spread to the tips of his ears as he scowled, shoving her hand away and huffing. She hoped he didn’t feel her heart hammering in her chest from his words, though.

“I will shove you off a building. It can happen, you know.” He warned playfully. But despite his words, he still leaned in and accepted the sweet kiss she pressed to his lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Okay, your turn. Where would you wanna go?”

Shrugging, Y/N twisted the strand of hair around her finger, moving to trace the slope of his jaw. “Anywhere.” She whispered. “As long as I’m with you.” She said it truthfully, and Quinn was oddly emotional from the confession. Smiling softly, he pressed delicate kisses to her cheeks before connecting her lips, humming into the kiss as his hand rubbed up her spine.

“Baby.” Quinn murmured, and she hummed in response. “That’s real cute.” He huffed with a small chuckle, making her beam. And all too swiftly, she was pulled down with her cheek smooshed against his chest and his arms locked firmly around her, no chance for escape — though, she didn’t think she’d want to leave, anyway. “Now go to sleep.”

#quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes drabble #qh43 #vancouver canucks

[hazbinsimp777]

Hi!!! Hope it’s ok to request Vox and Lucifer with a fem s/o who’s very affectionate please. Giving random little kisses, listening to his problems, and all these romantic gestures. Sorry she just has so much love to give >_<

A:N: I am EATING this concept up! Thanks for the request anon! <3

May I present...

~Affection is Key~

Featuring Vox and Lucifer

✅️Fluff ✅️Wholesome ✅️Adorable

A/N: Reader is female, a sinner and married in both Headcanons

~LUCIFER~

~ This man is SOAKING in all of the attention and affection you give him, he is the type that is a hopeless romantic. You are one of the only people that can actually make his day, besides Charlie of course

~ A refresher from his previous marriage

~ He loves how many gifts you have given him throughout your relationship, he even has a whole shrine of pictures of you and your gifts inside his closet. Something you absolutely do not know about and he had went through great lengths for that.

~ Even all the little homemade gifts you make him, a lil paper flower, a origami of a duck! HE LOVES IT ALL.

~ Whenever you two are in public, he adores how clingy you are towards him. Being the prideful shit he is, he holds his head up high and puffing his chest when you hugging his arm. ESPICALLY when you give him lil kisses on his forehead.

~ Even when he is meeting with the sins, he INSISTS that you must be brought along with him. During the meetings, he loves when you occasionally give him little kisses when the attention his not on him. His face is lightly blushing.

Lucifer : Ah Asmodeous! Yeah, this is my wife!

~ He literally brags about you to the other sins, but, they do think it is absolutely adorable.

~ You are his own personal-unpaid therapist. Always listening to his problems, giving advice at times and giving him reassurance to whatever he is ranting about. He even loves laying his head on your lap, with your fingers running through his hair when he is talking.

~ One thing that he loves it your cooking, at your time alive you had done your fair share of cooking and baking. Whenever you can, you would give your husband the best meals throughout the day.

~ Duck shaped pancakes, burgers, steaks and duck shaped cupcakes just to name a few! He is always so thankful for all the food you cook for him. Like you have always said, "The way to a man's heart is his stomach."

~ At random times of the day, no matter in private nor public, if something was out of place. His hair, clothes or hat, if it is out of place you are fixing it.

~ For example, he goes FERAL whenever you are fixing his bowtie, fixing a strand of his hair, adjusting his hat or wiping down a bit of dust on his clothes.

Lucifer: Have my children now.

Y/n: Okay sure

~VOX~

~ This was one thing Vox always had loved about you, how loving you are towards him and everything you do just because you love him. Honestly, it is a refresher in Hell, something rare to come across.

~ At times it does keep him up at night, why are you with him? How did you even get down here? At first it was VERY confused, so you don't only want sex or money from him? You want to be loving towards him? And LOYAL???

~ As long as you are with him, he isn't complaining.

~ For example, when he is going on camera on his television show, if there is anything out of place, it is a guarantee you will fix it. All you need to do is whisper, "You are going to be great Darling!" and blow a little kiss and all of the power is going to be out.

~ Another thing, he can bitch about Alastor as much as he wants to around you! While you are doing whatever you are doing, Vox can talk about anything you will be listening. You even give him very good advice and reassure him about anything. He only falls deeper in love with you after the first time you did that.

~ During his working days, you always check up on him and drop off any food you had made. Knowing Vox, he is a workaholic, so whenever you simply drop off food, water or check on him, it means the world to him. It shows how much you love him.

~ Speaking of food, he is IN LOVE with your cooking. As a man from the 1950s, even though he is not sexist and knows women are powerful. Doesn't mean he doesn't want to feel like a man in the relationship. So you taking care of him while he is working hard, means everything to him.

~ When he is around you, you make sure to give him as many hugs and innocent kisses as you possibly can. As an attention whore, he is taking and ADORING all of the random kisses and hugs you give him throughout the day.

~ Which is why he just HAD to wife you up immediately.

~ And because it will be easier to spy on your if you two are married.

~ That is why he spoils you rotten. At this point he is both your husband and sugar daddy in one. He can't help it! As affectionate and adorable you are, of course he wants to take really good care of you. Both the bedroom and overall.

~ Though you do not ask for much at all, he still insists he gets you the nicest clothes, shoes, jewelry, undergarments, perfumes, technology, stuffed animals and anything else you desire.

Vox: Honey! Look what I bought for you!

Y/n: *GASP* PLUSHIES! *runs over and jumps in the mountain of stuffed animals*

A/N: I hope this was good! I hope you liked it anon!

#hazbin lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #x fem!reader

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

#challengers movie #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #art donaldson smut #mike faist #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #tashi duncan #tashi donaldson #tashi x reader #zendaya #josh o'connor

[vixialuvs]

yeonjun, taehyun x reader established poly relationship please! daddy kink and they call reader princess and/or baby. maybe scenario is reader getting back home to the throuple's apartment from her 9-5 office job, and she had a bad day and really really tired, so taejun comforts and spoils her. you can add any kinks! 🤭♡

୧ ׅ𖥔 ۫ OFF TO THE RACES ! ⋄ 𓍯

୨୧ pairing. taejun x afab!reader

୨୧ genre. comfort/smut.

୨୧ cw. soft!dom taejun, sub reader, daddy kink, established relationship, poly, face sitting, kissing, unprotected sex, praise

YOU REALLY HATED YOUR JOB. it is simply hours on end of doing the most tedious jobs for your extremely harsh boss, who hates your guts. the only thing you look forward to at the end of the day is going home to your lovely boyfriends, who spoil you like their lives depend on it.

today, in particular, has been extra demanding and strenuous. your boss has yelled at you at least 3 times for the tiniest things, and customers have been complaining all day over stupid stuff, which has made your bubbly personality and social battery wear out for the day.

when you finally get home, later then usual because your boss made you work overtime, you come home to taehyun cooking in the kitchen and yeonjun on the couch, on his phone. they both turn to look at you, their smiles becoming wide and evident, but faltering a little when they see how worn-out you look.

“welcome home, princess.” taehyun says from the kitchen, stirring around a pot of your favorite food. “i’m making your favorite. it’s almost done, okay?”

you nod weakly, allowing yourself to be engulfed in yeonjuns arms. you didn’t even realize that he was coming over to you, you’re too sleepy. you can feel his lips press against your head.

“what’s wrong baby? hard day?”

yeonjun gently talks in your ear, lifting you up in his arms to carry you over to the couch where he then places you on his lap. taehyun also comes over, having finished cooking the food, sitting beside the two of you and pulling your legs over his lap.

you nod softly, your voice coming out in a little tiny mumble.

“yeah.. everyone was s’ mean to me today..”

you speak with a pout, causing the boys to crack a small amused smile, hands coming to pull you closer to them.

taehyun rubs his hands over your thighs, covered in the prettiest pink thigh highs, while yeonjun ties your hair up gently for you and kisses the shell of your earlobe. you don’t see, but him and taehyun share a look of silent agreement on something.

“awe, we’re sorry princess. how about we help you feel better, hm?”

taehyun coos, his hand starting to travel up to play with the edge of your skirt. you whine softly and nod, but then hear yeonjun tsk in your ear softly.

“words baby. let us hear you..” he murmurs, beginning to play with your clothes.

“y-yes, please.. wanna feel better..” you whimper bashfully, beginning to tremble on his lap.

that’s all that the boys need to hear before their strong arms are lifting you up and carrying you into the bedroom. they set you down on your back so carefully, placing your head on a pillow.

taehyun leans down to connect your lips, meanwhile yeonjun is busying himself with getting rid of your pesky clothes. the boys lift you so that your sitting on your back legs.

yeonjun has already pulled off every single item of clothing, leaving you and him bare. you pull at taehyun shirt mindlessly, trying to take it off of him. he obliges and pulls it off, letting you run your hands all over his abs.

he lifts you up so yeonjun can slide underneath you, right below your pretty cunt. yeonjun groans at the sight, his eyes rolling back slightly at the aroma of your heavenly juices.

“fuck, princess, you look so pretty like this. gonna eat your cute cunt out, just fuck yourself on daddy’s face, okay?”

he latches his lips on your clit, making you let out a shaky whimper as taehyun kisses you again. the only thing you can hear is the wet sounds of yeonjun devouring your pussy.

“daddy!” you whimper against tyuns lips, pulling at yeonjuns hair and bucking your hips along with the rhythm of his licks, falling apart on his mouth.

“come on baby, daddys got you. shh. that’s it sweetheart, just let go.”

taehyuns raspy voice only turns you on further, and the feeling of his lips on your neck pushes you over the edge.

you cum all over yeonjuns face, whimpering loudly for them as they help you through your high. yeonjun suckles on your clit like a starved man, rubbing at your soft thighs and kissing your folds relentlessly.

taehyun pulls your weak body off of his face and gently sits you on yeonjuns lap at the edge of the bed, before getting down onto his knees infront of you two.

“wanna taste this pretty pussy, baby. will you let daddy?”

he kisses your thigh, growling softly as yeonjuns tip nudges your entrance.

“yes daddy, please.. you guys make me feel so good..”

you mewl lewdly, back arching up into juns touch as he pulls you down onto his cock. you look down to see tyun licking up and down his cock and your clit as yeonjun plunges inside of you repeatedly, moaning into your shoulder as he kisses it.

taehyun moans against your cunt as you tug on his hair, sounds of pleasure spilling out of your lips as yeonjun splits you open on his cock.

“fuck, gonna cum in this pussy baby. gonna let me? let daddy fill your cunt with his cum?”

yeonjun babbles into your ear, groaning as he fucks you faster and faster, close to his release. you nod dumbly, eyes rolling back in your head as you let out the sluttiest noises.

“please cum inside daddy, need you!”

you wail, looking down to see taehyun simultaneously jerking off while he eats you out, the sight making you paint yeonjuns cock white. your walls squeezing him is too much for him and he cums all over your pussy, mixing your cum together.

taehyun has also came, making a white mess all over the floor as he nurses the two of you through your orgasms.

you can feel strong arms pulling you off of yeonjuns cock and cleaning you up, before being laid down on the bed in the two boys embrace, where you almost instantly knock out into a deep sleep.

maybe hard work does pay off sometimes.

@vixialuvs ‘24. likes and reblogs appreciated !

#▹ ﹑→ ﹒vixia talks ! ﹐ ᶻᶻ #txt x reader #txt #txt smut #yeonjun smut #txt yeonjun #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun x you #yeonjun fluff #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun #txt x you #txt taehyun #taehyun x reader #taehyun smut #kang taehyun #taehyun fluff #yeonjun hard hours #taehyun hard hours #yeonjun hard thoughts #taehyun hard thoughts

[yandere-romanticaa]

I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.

You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.

However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.

But enough is enough.

You need to leave. Fast.

One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.

All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.

He can make it up to you. He can and he will.

He promises.

You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.

His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.

He must find you.

Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.

You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.

You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.

No one is following you.

One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.

How neat.

Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.

You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.

Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.

Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.

Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.

Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.

He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.

Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.

Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?

#yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere diluc #genshin impact #♥️ girlie says

[calicoheartz]

Could you write something about Caitlin based off so high school by Taylor swift?

Soooo Highschool ; Caitlin Clark ﹒ᐢᗜᐢ

summary : just a little fic based on the song so highschool by Taylor swift !

wc ; 593

warnings : just romance and fluff

disclaimer : i don’t typically listen to Taylor swift , so i tried my best to interpret her lyrics

my master list ㇀♡

a/n : highschool Caitlin x reader core ?!?!? 👀 all jokes aside this was soooo fun to write tysm for requesting ! enjoy ◡̈

The sound of sneakers squeaking against the shiny basketball court filled the gymnasium as Caitlin dribbled the ball, with her eyes locked on the hoop. The crowd cheered, but her focus was solely on the game. She swiftly dribbled against the defenders with ease, her move was almost as smooth as silk.

You carefully observed from the bleachers, your heart pounding with both anxiety and anticipation. Your girlfriend was definitely a force to be reckoned with, and you couldn’t help but feel a wash of pride wash over you knowing she was yours.

As the final buzzer rung through your ears, signaling the end of the game, Cait’s team emerged victorious. The crowd began to cheer, as her teammates quickly surrounded her, congratulating her on a well played game.

You made your way done for the bleachers and onto the court, eager to congratulate your girlfriend. As you approached her, she turned to face you, with her gaze softening as she gave you a sweet but loving look.

“Hey, you played amazing out there,” you said, pulling her into a warm but gentle embrace.

“Thanks,” she replied, a small pink hue tinting her cheeks, returning the hug. “I couldn’t have done it without having you here by my side, supporting me.”

After this sweet exchange, you and Caitlin walked hand-in-hand to the locker room. As you waited for her to change, you couldn’t help but feel a huge sense of nostalgia wash over you. This was just like highschool, always sneaking into the locker room to congratulate her after an important win, then wandering off elsewhere to have a simple but passionate makeout session.

As Cait emerged from the locker room, you noticed a mischievous glint in her eye. “What are you up to?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shh” she said, swiftly putting a finger to your lips. Before you could protest you heard a simple “Follow me,” from the brunette. Grabbing your hand and interlocking your fingers with hers as she led you out of the gymnasium .

She soon led you to a secluded area behind the bleachers, before pulling you into a passionate kiss, her lips tasting like strawberry, and your lips moved together, harmonizing. “Ive been wanting to do that all game,” she said, a playful smile spread across her face.

You laughed, the feeling of her lips against yours making you nervous, and sending a shiver down your spine. “Youre sooo highschool” you chirped at her, teasing slightly.

Caitlin grinned down at you, “Ill take that as a compliment,” she said confidently, pulling you into yet another passionate kiss.

As you stood there, her arms wrapped around your waist, you couldnt help but feel grateful for the memories you were recreating from highschool, as she was more than just your girlfriend. She was your best friend, your confidante, your entire world. And you wouldnt want to have it any other way.

As the night drew to a close, you and Cait cuddled up against eachother on the bleachers, simply enjoying each other’s company through the deafening silence. “This feels like a scene out a cheesy movie,” you said, resting your head on the point guards shoulder.

Caitlin chuckled. “I guess we’re just like two highschoolers in love. Just like how it used to be,” she said, wrapping an arm around you.

You smiled softly, feeling an unwavering sense of contentment and happiness. As long as you had Caitlin by your side, you knew that your life would always be a reminder of all the adventures that awaited you.

#wlw #wlw imagine #wcbb #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader #headcannons #my hcs #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers #iowa #iowa hawkeyes #Taylor swift #the tortured poet’s department #22 #iowa wbb #wlw post #hawkeye #caitlin clark imagine #caitmylove

[misguidedasgardian]

The Hour of the Wolf (XI)

XI. A ray of sunlight

MASTERLIST

Summary: You never thought you could feel like this 

Pairing: Cregan Stark x Targaryen!Reader

Warnings: Cursing, war, death, mentions of killings, genocide and war, threats,arranged marriage, SPOILERS for ASOIAF, and Fire & Blood, also, might spoil House of the Dragon, might miss some warnings, brestfeeding on this chapter

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3,4 k 

Notes: Alright… sorry for the confusion… There were three ravens, Reader first wrote to Cregan to confess to him that she was pregnant and she wanted him back and whatnot… that raven GOT LOST, got eaten by a snake… idk… she then received a raven from Cregan, who, as he never received anything, he wrote to her telling her he was fine and he would like her to visit him up North, reader thought he received the letter, and didn’t care, and it was answering to it, so she just wrote a letter telling him she couldn’t make the journey, that’s it!

“Look at him”, you whispered, “he is perfect”, you admired his beautiful round face, his perfect little nose, his long eyelashes, his round squishy cheeks

“He is”, Cregan whispered, kissing your temple, “you had done so beautifully, my sweet Queen”, you looked into his eyes and you found content, and pride

But your eyes returned to your baby, your dragonling.

He had silver hair, beautiful silver hair, just like yours, and then when he barely open his eyes, he revealed them to be icy gray, like his father

He was so perfect, a perfect Targaryen Prince

The blood of Old Valyria and the blood of the first men run through his little veins.

You were so, so proud of him, of yourself, you had every maester check his health, and they all agreed, that the New Prince of Dragonstone was healthy, strong, and, as he had proven to you, had a strong set of lungs in him.

“My love”, called Cregan, but you only hummed, not letting your eyes wander from your newborn son, “there is people wanting to meet him”, he said softly, it was the middle of the next day, and you wanted to savor your alone time with him a little longer.

“Later”, you said simply

“They had been waiting since yesterday”, he said, kissing the top of your head again, “and we need a name”

“I just gave birth, can’t they please leave me alone for a bit?”, you asked, softly but angrily 

“This baby is the next ruler of the seven Kingdoms”, he said softly, “there are protocols…”, you looked at him severely

“Bring in my brother and Jahaera”, you conceded, he barely nodded, and went away, giving you a breath of relief. You didn’t want anyone else but your family in here

The children entered with big, curious, scared eyes, when they landed on you, they came to your side quickly, Aegon was sure to be right there next to you, to catch the closest and first look at his baby nephew

“He is a bit red”, it’s the first thing he mumbled, making you giggle

“He was just born”, you whispered, “it’s normal”, you explained softly, Jahaera didn’t say anything, but looked at the baby with big ghostly eyes, and for the very first time, you thought you catched a glimpse of a smile

“Jahaera? want to hold him?”, she seemed truly surprised, you just patted the bed right next to you, and she climbed to your side, when she was settled, you placed your baby in her arms, she seemed content, only watching him in her frail arms

“He is small”, she murmured, you only smiled, he was a bit small, and… “made of ice and fire”, she whispered

“What?”, you asked, but you were interrupted when Cregan opened the door, he stood there, with a warm smile on his face. 

You didn’t even know how you were going to name him, I mean, you had some ideas, and you were not even going to ask your husband, he, your firstborn, was of the realm, of the Iron Throne, he had to have a name of Old Valyria

Jahaera excuse herself, she had a lesson with her septa, but Aegon stayed, sitting there in the bed by your side, Cregan had left to gather the court

“Can I ask you something?”, your baby brother asked 

“Anything”, you answered truthfully

“Now that you have a son… will you… will you still love me the same?”, he asked, and his big eyes told you he was extremely worried. That truly surprised you, but you smiled softly nonetheless.

“Of course!”, you said with a big smile, “you are my baby brother, I will never stop loving you, and I will never stop caring for you, you heard me? you are stuck with me, and your little nephew for life”, you giggled

“Really?”, he asked, hopefully

“I promise”, you assured him.

Cregan came back, thinking he had given you enough time, Aegon as he saw him, he excused himself from the room, and left

“A name, wife”, he demanded. He was the father, but he is letting you name your child, the prince of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne

“Aerion”, you said with your son back in your arms, “of House Stark, until he ascends the Throne, as Aerion Targaryen”, you said firmly

“Good”, he said, “the small council is waiting”, he said, and again, he did not expect a no for an answer

“Very well”, he received your son, as you stood from the bed, the maids had placed you the “looser” dress you had, but not less impressive than any others, it was soft red velvet, with black and gold details. Your hair is barely arranged by two small braids arranging it off your face.

You barely let the maids touch your child, but they had dressed him too, in a simple golden attire. He was sleeping in his father’s arms, and you held onto him too, as you walked the hallways.

You had to present your son to the court

Not letting them see him, would awaken all sorts of gossip, that maybe there was something wrong with him, or he was weak, or any nonsense like that, this was going to make it clear to everyone…

The House of the Dragon stood strong, with you, your son, your brother, and your niece.

Especially with the silver hair on his head.

“You have done beautifully, wife”, Your husband said, as he saw you pondering, with your eyes lost in front of you

“Thank you husband”, you answered simply

You were already tired as you reached the huge doors, you hoped you didn’t have to sit on the throne today, you didn’t think you could handle it. You were still really sensitive.

“Lady (y/n) of House Targaryen, Queen of the Andals, the Roynar and the first Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the Realm, and her Lord Husband Cregan, of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North, and Hand to the Queen, would like to present to the court, Aerion, of House Targaryen and Stark, Prince of Dragonstone!”, you might as well announce it now, the shocked faces appeared before you, your son was the heir, and next King of the Seven Kingdoms.

The huge doors of the entrance of the throne room opened in front of you, you tried to smile as the entire court, your court, tried their best they could to catch a glimpse of the sleeping Prince in Cregan’s arms

You walked slowly to the front, smiling and nodding to everyone on their way

All the Lords and Ladies nodded at you, muttering words of kindness

“Congratulations my Queen”

“What a fine Prince your grace!”

“You had been blessed, and you had blessed us all”

And more

So much more

Your council had been waiting for your approval, to start the celebrations, feasts, tournaments, parties, the first ones since the end of the war

“Behold! Prince Aerion of House Targaryen and Stark!”, chanted Arryk, you faithful Queen’s guard. 

It was a tiring affair, you should be resting, and Cregan thought so as well, but you you a Queen, and if you wished to prove those who wouldn’t see your mother on the throne wrong, you have to stand there, with your newborn son, in front of the court as you barely gave birth the day before as the sun was setting 

“In the celebrations of the birth of my son, I announce a big tournament, to join all countries as one, and also, a big feast to go with it!”, you said loudly, and the entire room bursted in cheers and applause, making Aerion cry angrily, as he was startled by the loud noise

Cregan smiled grabbing him carefully with his strong hands and showed him to the entire room, shortly, then he cuddled him into his strong chest, he looked so proud 

The tournament was going to be held in two months time

This was a new era, you constantly had to be remained of

The kingdoms were still healing, you were still healing… you need this, you did

You were finally “allowed” to go back to your rooms, you dismissed the nannies who had offered to take your baby.

It was normal and customary, that you had a small army of women ready to take care of your child, but you didn’t want to let him out of your sight

Is not that you didn't trust them, it was just…

It felt odd

To be apart from him

You had them bring a crib by the side of your bed, as you watched him asleep tears fell down your eyes… oh how you wished your mother was there with you

You had cried for her in the middle of labor, how you needed her warmth, her maternity, her advice, all of her. She was an excellent mother, she adored each and every one of you, and you didn’t know how you were going to do this without her

You were so lonely

You had dismissed your ladies, and the nurses were unfamiliar to you

Because Aegon the Usurper killed your mother’s nurses when he took Dragonstone

You felt so lonely.

The all familiar pain that had installed on your chest came flourishing back again, and you realized it had never left, you just grown accustomed to it

Would she be proud of you?

You imagined your brothers coming to see your son, Jacaerys picking him up from his crib and raising him in his strong arms, you imagined Luke grabbing onto Aerion with gentle hands, accommodating him on his chest with his beautiful smile looking down at his nephew 

The guards outside your room presented Cregan who entered the room with scrolls on his hands

“Letters, from your cousins Baela and Rhaena, and one from Lord Co…”

“Dispose of them”, you demanded, you didn’t care

“But…”

“I don’t care what those traitors have to say”, you said bluntly, he had caught you in a wrong moment

“Wife…”, he started carefully, “may I ask why…?”,  he asked simply, you guessed he wanted to hear your version of the facts

“Corlys Velaryon served my mother, until it suited him, when the ship was sinking, in the moment my mother needed him the most, he betrayed her, then served the usurper!”, you said bluntly

“He probably was the one who poisoned the usurper”, he said softly

“I guess, it didn’t suit him to keep serving him, I don’t care”, you said angrily, “if he had stayed at my mother’s side like he promised perhaps she would still be here”, you said, you could not forgive him, you wouldn’t allow yourself to

And Baela and Rhaena?

It just hurt too much

At one point they were like your sisters, like real sisters, you had lived together since your mother married Daemon, and… now it just hurts too much. They say Rhaena managed to hatch a dragon, a pink little thing

Good for her

But it just… it hurts… of all the people that could have survived… 

You felt guilty for only thinking about it

They were more Corlys Velaryon’s granddaughters that they were your sisters

“Can I read them?”, he asked, you looked at him

You wanted to say no, you did, but you were also terribly curious

Of what they might want or say… What if was indeed something important? and really, it was Cregan, he was the only one you trusted fully

“Yes”, you said shortly, “let me know if there is something important”. He sat by the window, to read the letter by the sunlight, Aerion began to get fuzzy, so you grabbed him gently and started to feed him

Something very frowned upon

Not even your mother had breastfeed her babies

But to your understanding… who better to feed a future King… than a Queen? his mother? You paid it no more mind as he latched onto you, Cregan didn’t even batted an eye

He was frowning a he read the missives 

“Is there something they need?”, you asked dismissively, “a threat to our Kingdom?”

“No”, he said simply, “just a call for you, their sister”, he said, he folded the letters and put them away, then he opened the one of Lord Corlys

“They wish you the best regarding the birth of your child and Prince of Dragonstone, and they wish to know that if there is anything they can do for you”

“No requests… that’s a new one”, you said sadly 

“Please, help me understand”, he pleaded once again, “what are you thinking?”

“They just keep wanting the fucking throne”, you said bitterly, “that is all this whole thing had been about, the Hightowers and Velaryons alike, each for their own side, sunk their teeth into the targaryen of their choice and bit, ripped and tear them apart for their own convenience, for the fucking throne, killing my entire family in the process, I am done with them”, you sentenced. 

“Very well”, he said, “I will stand by you”

“Thanks”, you said smiling softly, not wanting to discuss the issue further

Even if they were true, that they only were calling for you, their “granddaughter” and sister, how could you ever trust that? if you were not seated on the throne, would they still care for you?

You were convinced they only wanting to fall back into your good graces, the graces of the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and everything that meant

And the very fact that they knew about the birth of your son so soon unnerved you.

Of course they had spies inside the castle

Perhaps you should burn the letters publicly so words get to them

But it was of no consequence, because that very day, Cregan received important news

His son was arriving

He was in the Crossroads Inn, and he was dying to go and meet him

You allowed him to go with a small force, you had never seen him so happy and excited. He was on his way to meet his son

And taking advantage of that fact, that was going to take him a few days… You realized, thinking about Rhaena… 

Your son needed his egg

You had felt Vhaelar restless, and you needed to know if she had laid her clutch of eggs, or, egg

Singular

The very thought frightened you, what if it didn’t hatch? She as well could be the last Dragon, a grown, fertile dragon. You called in a Dragon keeper immediately, and he presented in front of you, the one that went inside the cave with you, the only one who could get close to your Dragon

“This is long overdue, your Grace”, he said with a soft smile

“I cannot go down there myself”, you explained softly, his face then changed. “What's the matter?”, you asked him

“Vhaelar laid eggs, we didn’t know how many, when the prince was born we adventure into the cave to find… one is gone”, it seemed like everything froze around you

“What?”, you asked

“One of the nests was… broken into”, he said

“Why wasn't I informed of this!?”, you asked angrily

“We found it this very morning”, he said quickly

“Raised alarms!”, you said

“The one that stole it… didn’t realize, she laid two eggs”, he gave a signal to Erryk who was at the door and he opened them to reveal two more Dragon Keeper, that brought with them the heating chamber

A sight you never thought you’d see again

They revealed the egg to you, and tears were brought to your eyes, it was golden, golden like the sun

Was it an Omen? Golden like Syrax… Golden like Sunfyre

Who could have possibly stolen my dragon’s egg?”, you asked him

We don’t know your grace, it must have been someone who knows the area, that its been heavily guarded, even though its against the sea, you had maintain guards around it, and over it, so we can’t understand…”, you kept quiet, you could barely go up stairs, you couldn’t go personally.

That is why she was so restless

Somebody stole her egg

“What if it hatches?”, you asked him, fright in your eyes, he didn’t know what to answer

“A dragon will only answer to a Targaryen your grace, in the worst case, it will grow wild, until we can finally know where it is”

“And in the best case?”

“It’s not normal for two eggs to hatch in the same clutch”, he said softly, “if the Prince’s egg hatches… then… someone still had a treasure in their hands but at least, it will not be a dragon”

It did not settle your nerves

You saw the beautiful egg, it seemed to move, you could feel it, the life within it

“Thank you”, you said finally, and they left you alone.

It wasn’t until a week later, as you fixed the skirt on your dress, that you finally realized how important this was.

Rickon Stark, Cregan’s son, was entering the city

Your husband’s child

Your own child, by marriage

A sweet boy of eight

Soldiers entered in front of the comitive, mounted men with the Stark sigil, and then, right after them, Cregan in all his glory, and at his side, on his own horse, a young boy, that even from afar, you could tell he looked exactly like Cregan, same shade of hair, and as they dismounted and walked towards you, you realized, he had his eyes

“Your Grace, my I present to you, my son and heir, Rickon Stark”, presented Cregan

“Your grace”, the boy greeted politely, his big eyes looking at you widely, even though he bowed. Cregan was by his side, looking at his son proudly

“My Lord, you are most welcomed to King’s landing, and to the Red Keep”, you greeted, amused, he smiled shyly.

“Thank you, your grace”, he looked at you with mistrust, and you could understand him, all of this was new for him.

You of course invited them in, the entire household he had brought with him was large, but, the more the merrier, and if having more of his people with him was going to make Cregan and RIckon feel more comfortable, they were most welcomed.

“There is someone I want you to meet”, you said happily, he only nodded, you looked at Cregan as you walked back to your chambers, and he seemed content, “Can I call you Rickon?”, you asked him softly

“Yes your Grace, of course”, he said simply

“Are you my new mommy?”, he asked bluntly, and you looked at Cregan, alarmed, he was amused, but didn’t say anything, you then looked back at the boy who was looking up at you with his big ghostly eyes

“I don’t have to be if you don’t want me to”, you said gently, and that seemed to relax him a bit, “but there is a place I’d like you to fill”, you said with a solemn voice, like you were requesting of him, you opened yourself the double doors to your room

“Which one, your grace?”, he asked solemnly

“How about.. big brother?”, you asked, inviting him to look inside the cradle where his baby brother was sleeping peacefully

“I’d like that”, he said, pleased, but frowned at further inspection of your baby, “why is his hair white?”, he asked, you giggled

“Because he got it from me”, you said softly

“I thought you had white hair because you were old”, he said simply, and you laughed, hard

The sound of your own laugh seemed so foreign to you

You haven't laughed in…

In…

In a long time

“No, no my dear, I was born with my hair like this”, you explained softly, he only nodded, understanding clearly, “so… are you going to be Aerion’s big brother?”, you asked, and he looked at you with a true smile for the very first time, and nodded excitedly

taglist!

@lyannesworld @tremendouswolfsaladranch @unlesshouse @mimsie95 @ostricx @amelia262006 @marihoneywk @ahristata @happinessinthebeing @dd122004dd@lyannesworld @aestmilky @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @stargaryenx @lightdragonrayne @delaynew @mxtokko @good-night-starlight @yentroucnagol @beebeechaos @brakingboundaries @duds31 @@persophonekarter @missusnora @aleemendoza2425-blog @aesthetic0cherryblossom @arrozyfrijoles23 @sacredmachine @wintfleur @kitkat-writes-stuff @green-lxght

#misguidedhour #targaryen!reader #targaryen!oc #house of the dragon fanfiction #hbo house of the dragon #house targaryen #cregan stark #cregan stark x y/n #cregan stark x you #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader

[emoreemadden]

can u make a gojo fanfic where he like abuseive when he comes home to their apartment bc hes stressed out about a meeting and stuff so like he abiuses the reader while she tries to welcome him home but she starts crying infront of him but tries to hide it and goes back to making dinner then gojo go takes a shower and thinks abt it then feels bad and gets out of the shower and realises the reader made him his favorite meal and feels emevn more bad and goes to apologize also make version with no smut and one with smut pleaseee thankz

😃 oh…

anyways yeah here you go pookie <3

Outline: Gojo isn’t trying to hurt you. It was an accident, swear.

Content Warnings: abuse, fem!reader, gojo hits reader, domestic violence, slight degradation (reader doesn’t enjoy it 😭), gojo yells at reader, use of “baby,” and “my love,” as petnames

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, fem!reader

A/N: this is the non smut one. word count: 743. btw, i don’t condone actual violence or domestic abuse yall 😭 if any of this feels familiar to you, help is available. national domestic violence hotline: [phone].

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You jump up from your seat on the couch as soon as you hear the doorknob jiggle. “You’re home!” you exclaim as your boyfriend opens the door.

You quickly run over to him, an inviting smile on your face, but he just stands at the door with an irritated expression on his face.

“Yep.” He says, tone clipped. You pause a few feet in front of him. “Is something wrong? Do you need a hug?” You ask, carefully stepping toward him.

Satoru stares at you for a good second, his eyes narrowing. “I’m fine.” He mumbles.

“Are you sure?” you pry, about to touch his bicep when he grabs your wrist. “Jesus, could you just give me a moment of peace for once?” He snaps, his grasp on your wrist tightening.

You flinch. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-” suddenly, a sharp sting spreads on your cheek. You look at Satoru, feeling your face smarting.

“Shut up, goddamnit!” He yells, roughly letting go of your hand as your eyes begin to tear up. “I swear, you’re trying to get on my nerves. What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

You blink in shock, your cheek reddening from the impact of the slap. Tears begin to fall from your eyes and you hold back a sob. The entire house falls into silence as the two of you stand there.

He watches you try to wipe the tears from your eyes, suddenly feeling the guilt swell in his chest. Why did he do that?

You sniffle, looking away from his gaze and pausing. “I’m sorry.” You whisper. “I’ll go finish making dinner.”

Satoru sighs, calming himself. He reaches to put his hand on your shoulder and calm you down, but you’re turning around and walking to the kitchen before he can apologize.

He can almost feel tears in his eyes, realizing what he’d done to you. Nevertheless, he watches you walk away in complete silence.

The whole scene replays in his head as he walks into the bedroom, hands in his hair and tugging from frustration. You were just trying to help him, and he hurt you like that. Another pang of guilt fills his body.

He’d had a bad day at work, everything was stressing him out. He hadn’t meant to hit you like that. He didn’t think.

Gojo rubs his temples as he strips his clothes and hops in the shower, hoping he could cool off and come back to talk to you later.

About thirty minutes later, Gojo dries himself off and walks into the living room. “Baby?” he calls out. You peek out from the kitchen.

“Toru?” you say softly, blinking at Gojo with a nervous expression. He gives you an apologetic smile.

“You okay?” He asks, walking toward you and stopping just a few feet in front of you. You simply nod a little.

“I made dinner.” You say, looking at the table covered with food. Gojo follows suit, looking over at the meal you made and immediately feeling even more guilt and regret then before.

“You made my favourite?” he asks, looking at you tenderly. You nod meekly again. He sighs.

“I’m sorry, baby.” he spoke quietly, as if afraid he’s scare you at a louder volume. You stayed silent as he stepped closer and placed a hand on your cheek.

Gently, he speaks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just stressed. Work sucked, and I just didn’t think. I’m so so sorry.”

Your eyes tear up just a little bit, but you nod. “I just wanted to help you.” you tell him. He nods understandingly. “I know, baby.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead and pulls you close to his chest. “I love you so much.” he whispers against your hair, holding you close.

You don’t move for a second, but ease into it eventually. You bury yourself into his warm embrace as his arms wrap around you protectively.

“I swear, it was an accident. I’ll never do it again.” he promises. He interlaces his fingers with yours and brings your hand to his lips, placing a kiss on the back of it.

“Okay, I believe you. Do you want to eat now?” You ask, looking up at him with a hopeful glint in your eye.

He grins back. “Of course, my love.” He says, guiding you to the table and sitting you down on his lap.

“And if you’d like, I can have you for desert.”

#jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo satoru #jjk satoru #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen #romance #dark romance #tw abuse #cw abuse

[acewritesfics]

Sweetheart | Tommy Shelby 

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x wife!reader

Request: No

Warnings: The word whore being used a few times. A threat made.

Word Count: 640

Tommy Shelby Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Tommy enters his office and is taken aback to see his wife seated behind his desk, wearing a displeased look on her face. He lights his 6th cigarette for the day and moves to stand near the windows, knowing that whatever is about to unfold cannot be good. Her eyes follow his every move as she remains quiet waiting for him to speak first.

"I suppose I should ask if everything is well, but I have a feeling it would only anger you further," he says, observing her as she stares at him. "So why don't you tell me what I've done wrong so we can sort it out?" 

She continues to scowl at him, saying, "I know you are willing to do anything to get what you want, I just never thought I would have to witness it." 

His expression remains stoic, revealing nothing about what he's thinking or feeling. 

"Imagine now my amazement when I saw every man's favorite whore with her hands all over my husband only to see him do nothing about it. He seemed to be encouraging it." 

Tommy could see the sadness and the hurt in her eyes. He didn't miss the way her voice became strained at the end. It hurt his heart to know that it was his own foolish impulsive acts that caused her feel this way. But he could see she wasn't done talking. He remains silent, knowing that trying to apologise before she finishs would only make matters worse. 

"But instead of simply confronting you, I went and confronted her," she confesses. 

Tommy struggles to conceal his smirk. Y/N's headstrong personality causes her to protect what belongs to her and causes her to make sure people knew where she stands and where they stood. If he could be possessive over her, than so can she when it comes to him. Tommy was hers - him being the father to her three children, her husband and the love of her life - and she wasn't about to let anyone forget it. It's one of the many things Tommy loves about her. 

"Don't worry, she said you merely used her for information. That you flirted a little, got her hopes up, and that was the end of it," Her eyes never leave his while a smirk appears on her lips. She trusted him not to go any farther than flirting. It was the whores she was wary about. Her lover before Tommy was always persuaded by them . When they first started their relationship, she made it clear to Tommy that adultery would not be tolerated. 

"And what did you tell her?" Tommy enquired, slightly amused by her possessiveness. Y/N didn't typically take such action, but he admires that she was willing to confront anyone who threatened their family and marriage, even if it was against a lady of the night. 

"I told her, if she touches you with her filthy little hands again, I'll cut 'em off," she confidently tells him. 

"Sweetheart," he said not bothering to hide the small smirk that's forming, his head shaking side to side. "After all these years, you still surprise me with your words." 

"How else are those whores meant to know I won't tolerate them trying to seduce you?" She wonders aloud as he rounds the desk, standing in front of her. 

He pulls her up from the chair, lifting her to sit on his desk as he stands between her legs. "What if I need information from them? I can't have them scared of me." 

"Then you get someone else to do your dirty work," she tells him. "Preferably someone who isn't married." 

He smiles and kisses her, knowing she's no longer angry at him. "I love you." 

"I love you too," she replies pulling him closer to kiss him again. 

#acewritesfics repost #peaky blinders #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #tommy shelby

[babyrdie]

ALERT OF HADES II SPOILER

Okaaaayyy....seeing a considerable number of people act shocked at how Odysseus is in Hades II and think it's something against Odysseus, and now I'm wondering if they actually paid attention in the first game…I know everyone talks a lot about Hades' art, but I didn't think that was because it was the only thing you guys were really paying attention to.

It makes sense to be disappointed that the characters weren't treated the way a fan would have liked (for example, I'm not a fan of Hades, but I don't really like the idea of him in the game although I understand why he's the way he is), but I think it's weird to be that surprised by it or treat it like it's personal. Hades never fully followed the myths. They didn't do this because they haven't read Homer or because they don't like Penelope or hate Odysseus…it's simply because they don't follow the myths authentically. They don't specifically have anything against Odysseus or Penelope, it's just the way they do things. If this were the first game, I would understand this being unexpected… but it's the second game, we already know that they won't faithfully follow the myths because they didn't do that in Hades I.

I'll admit that I also didn't expect what was done with Penelope and Odysseus, but it's not really such a "wow! I could never imagine!" when it comes to Supergiant (I'm playing the technical test, for context). And I hoped they would already be together without relationship conflicts, because I really wasn't looking forward to a repeat of Nyx and Chaos, Patroclus and Achilles, Orpheus and Eurydice. I know most people wanted this, but I think it would be lazy to repeat this and I'm still hoping to not have this quest, whether with Odypen or other characters. And yet, even if I didn't expect it, I don't think it's as unexpected for Supergiant as some are making it seem.

Examples:

Melinoe and Zagreus are children of Persephone and Hades, and in mythology they aren't children of Hades.

Zagreus and Dionysus aren't the same person. The game makes humans believe that they're because the two played a prank on Orpheus, which made him invent a song with that story. Clearly a joke on the Orphic hymns.

Theseus is proud to be a demigod, but Poseidon denies that he's his father. Clearly a joke with the different versions of Theseus' birth, in which some he is Poseidon's demigod and others he's mortal.

Persephone is the daughter of Demeter and a mortal, not Zeus. For that reason, she and her children bleed red rather than gold.

Persephone isn't actually kidnapped by Hades. The kidnapping was an act that went wrong. Yeah, Odysseus wasn't the first character to have his non-con and dub-con aspect erased.

Achilles has a different personality than in myths. The game explains this as him maturing in the afterlife.

Patroclus is distant instead of communicative as in the myths, also explained by post-death events.

Asterius (Minotaur) is much more humanized than in the myths and he and Theseus are best friends.

There is a character heavily implied to be Medusa (Dusa) and she definitely doesn't behave like a monster.

Sisyphus is a kind and helpful guy, which is explained in the game with him having regretted his actions after his years of punishment.

Artemis and Callisto are on good terms even though they ended tragically in mythology.

Hades has a much more difficult personality to deal with than in mythology.

Thanatos, Megaera (one of the furies) and Zagreus are in a romantic relationship, which definitely doesn't exist in the myths.

The last aspects of the weapons to be unlocked do not even make reference to Greece, but to other figures. For example, the Twin Fists have the "aspect of Gilgamesh", a figure who is definitely not Greek.

Aphrodite says "You do know that I'm married, don't you love? I forgive you if you didn't. For my husband, he's always... busy with his work. I'm grateful that you are there for me to talk to" about Hephaesthus...her husband, she says. Hephaestus and Aphrodite are often divorced in mythology, including in Homer. And it's not because it wasn't yet at the time they got divorced, after all the Trojan War had already happened and they were already divorced at that time.

Also, they clearly don't use Homer as their only guide, so I don't know why you guys are saying "but Homer!" Patrochilles is there and not really canon in the Homeric tradition, but in Classical Greece they were considered a couple in certain sources (Aeschylus mainly). They use the name Asterius for the Minotaur (something Pausanias mentions, for example) although it wasn't the most common, they play with the various versions of Theseus' lineage, they reference Orphic hymns, etc. Like…it's really VERY obvious they took inspiration of more than one source.

On the Supergiant website, part of the Hades presentation is "Greek myth comes from stories of ancient gods and heroes filtered through new points of view; we’re excited to share ours." This already makes it more than evident that certain aspects were purposefully changed. It wasn't a surprise even before Hades I was released, for anyone who bothered to read it.

On Twitter, Kasavin (Creative Director) has already said that "it is a concerted effort over time, although Hesiod and Homer were very significant among the many authors we explored", which makes it clear that they don't focus on a specific source, although he recognizes that Homer and Hesiod are very influential.

In an interview available at Rock Paper Shotgun, he even said that he read more than one translation of the Odyssey and cites other sources like Diodorus Siculus.

Also, Odysseus cheating Penelope isn't even a modern invention, there were already versions of this in the Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus (I'm talking about Callidice). And giving an unpopular opinion here: while I agree that Calypso in The Odyssey is undeniably an SA situation, Circe is more debatable than you guys like to make it out to be, it isn't undeniably. Both the interpretation that there was SA and the interpretation that there was no SA are valid, because the text itself doesn't make it explicit as it does with Calypso. In Circe's case, not necessarily not making it a relationship with SA makes it something that deviant from the myths.

Again because I don't want to be misinterpreted: what I'm taking issue with here isn't the disappointment in how Odysseus was portrayed. This is valid! I'm questioning the idea that this was done because they don't know about the myths or that it was something specific to Odysseus and Penelope. They know the myths, they just purposefully choose not to be completely authentic. They have nothing specific to Odysseus and Penelope, which is precisely why they aren't exempt from the changes they also made to other characters. They are no more special than Persephone, Hades, Zagreus, Melinoe (to name a few who had changes), that's why they receive the same treatment (that is, being changed).

I would never recommend Hades to someone who wanted complete authenticity to the myths. I wouldn't do that because I KNOW that's not the game's purpose. I thought everyone else knew too. You don't go to a vegetarian restaurant that you knew was vegetarian because you had eaten there before and be surprised because they don't have real meat dishes, be serious.

#Hades game #Hades II #Hades 2 #Supergiant #Really surprised at how surprised people are #Sounding a bit combative here maybe #Birdie.txt

[charliehoennam]

sweet stranger

A/N: request made here by @annekelovesreading

Summary: the war veteran Alfie seeks comfort in a stranger in hopes of returning to his old self

Pairing: Alfie Solomons x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, reader is a sex worker.

SHARING IS CARING, SO PLEASE REBLOG

"Thanks for the ride, James. I'll see you tomorrow morning."

You climb out of the Bentley and adjust your coat, smoothing out the wrinkles of your dress before strutting towards the hotel, your heels clacking against the pavement and then marble floors of the lobby.

You sense the judgemental eyes already on you, but you've learned how to ignore them. If their judgement paid your rent and bills, then you'd finally be able to retire. But until then, you did what needed to be done.

The service you provide is simple and clear. You meet the client, humor them a bit and fuck them before leaving at first light.

You are lucky enough to work for a powerful and strict madame that actually recognizes the importance of her employees' well-being and ran a high-end business.

Her rules were clear. No marking, no hitting and contraceptive must be used.

Just because her empire dominates the professional area of sexual pleasure does not mean she runs a funhouse. Many would mistake Madame's care for benevolence when it is really just a matter of logistics.

Black eyes don't allow her employees to escort her wealthy clients to prestigious social events. And the only reason her business dominates is because she assures clean employees to her clients. An employee with the clap gets the boot and replacing them is expensive.

After giving your name at the front desk, you take the keys you're headed with a smile and head to room 403.

The name is not unfamiliar. You've heard plenty of Alfie Solomons and part of you is afraid of what he'll be like, judging by what you've heard.

The ring of the lift snaps you our of your thoughts. You flash a smile at the liftman and thank him before stepping into the hallway.

Alfie Solomons is not your first client - nor will he be your last - but knowing he is the first gangster you're about to meet and sleep with has butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You mentally repeat Madame's rules to yourself to try and ease your nerves. But then again, do rules hold any standing to criminals?

Taking a couple of deep breaths, you manage to relax as best as you possibly can in the situation and simply remind yourself that he is no different than any other client.

You lift your hand to knock on the door. There's movement behind it and the metal of the lock on the side rattles as it slides to open.

Your lips pull into a welcoming smile at the broad, tall man that opens the door. Taking in his features, you quickly notice his wet hair.

The smell of soap emanates from his large frame along with a faint scent of rum and an irresistible natural musk that almost lured you to touch him.

It's obvious that he took the time to wash himself and, to be honest, you're quite thankful for that.

"You must be Mr. Solomons."

"Punctual little thing, ain't you? Come on in, love. Don't mind me."

His tone is rather calm even with his heavy Cockney drawl. His fingers, however, seem to confess his nerves with the way they flick back and forth.

"Punctuality is a necessary characteristic in my line of work, Mr. Solomons."

"Right, right" he nods as you walk past him. He still can't seem to look you in the eye, but you've yet to discover why.

Most of the nervous clients that you've had were first-timers, young men eager to lose their virginity especially before being sent to war.

Alfie is very attractive and pleasing to the eye with his large strong build, but he is no young boy. You find it hard to believe that this would be his first time being as wealthy, cunning and wealthy as you heard he is.

"May I take your coat, love?"

"Yes, please."

You turn to back to him to allow his assistance, taking in the sight of the hotel room. You've been in this hotel before, but despite that, the lavious decoration of the suite never fails to impress.

Alfie can't help but feel intimidated by the simple scent of your perfume as he stands behind you, taking your coat to hang it for you. He doesn't want you to pick up on the fact that he feels so out of his element.

Before the war, Alfie had his fair share of women. He used to be so different. So young and naive and confident - which is the only characteristic he can successfully feign more than well in the wicked world he treads in.

But now, he's in foreign territory. So much has changed for him.

Getting his affairs back in strict order took so much work, sweat and blood from him that he hadn't prioritized his romantic desires.

If age hadn't been enough, the night tremors made it impossible to sleep beside anyone. Red blotches were beginning to spread throughout his body due to the psoriasis. His sciatica only worsened with age and the harsh conditioning the war had forced onto it. And now the fucking cancer, which only added to his list of secret insecurities.

The confident young man he used to be was gone. Alfie was still human, however. And like many other humans, he yearned for companionship. The problem is that a man like Alfie can't confide in just anyone. He can't expose it without the risk of his enemies seeing it as an opportunity to use it against him.

Good thing about Madame's business is that her turf is neutral and independent ground. For now, at least.

Alfie knows he has to overcome this hurdle if he plans to get married one day and start a family and he just thought this would be the best way.

He's got a beautiful woman in his hotel room; he knows what you came here to do. He's just not sure what to do at this point other than to confess it to you. He doesn't want to say it, but deep down inside, he feels a bit humilited.

It shows in the way he avoids your eyes, the way his head hangs low.

"There's no shame in that, Mr. Solomons. I'm happy to help however I can. We don't have to rush into anything just yet... Do you drink?"

"Not often. Clouds the mind."

"Precisely. What do you drink?" You smile warmly at him.

"Wine is my favorite."

"Let's get you a glass then, Mr. Solomons."

Just as you expect, the wine is successful in loosening him up a bit.

You're careful enough to avoid asking any questions that concerns his business, so you focus on asking him to share things he enjoys like music and books.

After a couple hours and a couple glasses, he's warming up to you as you listen attentively to his childhood stories. Despite the wine, he is cautious enough to leave out certain details that are too personal for you to know that could bring him or his family harm if they ended up in the wrong hands.

You can't take it personal, and can only imagine that trust does not come easy in his line of work which only confirms that pressing him on such information wouldn't be very smart.

No matter how easy the conversation is flowing or how comfortable he may seem to be, you can't forget who he is beyond these four walls.

As he finishes his glass of wine, he sets it down on the table in front of you while raising a hand to his shoulder to rub at the aching knot in his muscle.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, Mr. Solomons?"

"With what, love? Oh, this?" He asks glancing at his shoulder. "Oh, no. You don't have to do that."

It almost like he's forgotten the reason you're both there.

"Really, I don't mind at all. It's the least I can do for you, sir."

With a sweet smile, you stand as you finish off your glass and set it beside his on the table before walking over to his chair to offer him your hand.

"I promise I won't do anything you don't want me to."

His blue eyes narrow their gaze at you for a moment as if he's trying to read you. You can see him physically tense before accepting your hand.

The talkative Alfie is suddenly replaced by a quiet and insecure version as he watches you, from where he's sat in the bed, take your heels off - your almost bare feet still covered in your black stockings - before climbing onto the bed.

You stand on your knees , which are spread to accommodate him between them, and sit back on your feet after taking the small bottle of rose scented intimate oil from your purse.

"It's like riding a bike. Your body knows that to do, but it needs time, patience and practice, so you have to go slow."

Your breathe on his neck has chills racing up his arms as you reach to his front to unbutton his vest and slide it off his wide shoulders. You do the same with his shirt, but pause before sliding it off as his hand instinctively hold your wrist.

"May I? I'd love to see you, but if you don't want to, I can just slide it down a bit."

He ponders for a moment but replies with a silent nod as he releases your wrist.

You slide it off and much to your impression, he seems even wider and stronger than you'd imagined.

A couple scars and red blotches already here and there on his skin, but they don't stop you from marveling at the rippling muscles.

"My goodness... Mr. Solomons, with all the utmost respect, but you are quite the work of art."

He can't help but smile at your compliment, although he thinks that you're just saying what you think he wants to hear, so it's hard for him to believe.

You let your palms gently wander over his large back and arms, with a gentle squeeze to his biceps.

"Carved from stone, are you?" You joke, bringing a chuckle out of him.

"No, love. Just flesh."

"Fortunately."

Using the pipette, you pinch a couple drops of the oil onto his shoulders before closing the vial to set it aside and letting your fingers get to work.

Alfie groans softly and his eyes instantly close as you start massaging to undo the knot that's been bothering him for weeks now.

"How is that, sir? More pressure?"

"No, love. That's just fine...just perfect," he sighs relieved. "Fucking 'ell, love. That feels fucking great. You've no idea how long that's been bothering me."

"I can imagine. You've got knots like this all round. It can't be easy to live with them.

Slowly but surely, Alfie starts to relax. It's impossible not to. It's been a while since he's been touched by anyone, much less massaged by them.

The tension is his body begins to ease as your fingers work away not only the knots caused by the stress of his days, but the anxiety of being intimate again. It doesn't seem so foreign suddenly.

Building up the courage to place a gentle kiss onto the back of his shoulder, you lower your head and press your lips to his skin.

"Is this alright?" You whisper.

"More than alright."

"I can go lower if you'd like me to."

He nods, so you glides your fingers down the middle of his back, pressing against ether side of his spine.

"Fuck, love... That is heavenly."

You smile at the praises and take it a sign to continue the gentle teasing, moving your kisses up to the crook of his neck.

You take your time to ease him into his arousal. The lower you go down his back, the more convinced he becomes.

"Would you like me to touch you?"

You ask nuzzling your nose against his ear and he nods.

You reach a hand to his front and rub your palm against his clothed crotch. Although you can't see his cock, you can tell the man's been blessed with girth as it twitches against your touch.

Alfie gives in to the instant pleasure and moans, letting all his worries melt away. He can't remember the last time he's been able to feel so at ease.

As you whisper encouraging praises into his ear from behind, Alfie allows you to unbutton his trousers and slither your hand under the fabric to stroke his cock with a firm grip.

The room seems to spin around him. His head feels heavy from the pleasure as it leans back against your shoulder.

"That's it, sir. Just let me take care of you" you smirk kissing a sensitive spot on his neck that he didn't even know could make him tremble.

He isn't sure how much longer he can last. It's been a while after all.

"L-love, you feel so good."

You chuckle, letting his thick cock spring free from its confines.

"You're fucking beautiful, sir."

"Oh, you think so, yeah?"

You nod as your hand strokes his dick, coating it with his own pre-cum and the essential oil you'd brought.

"Lemme get more comfortable, love. Wanna see more of ya," alfie says holding your wrist to stop your movement for a moment.

He stands to kick off his trousers, standing in all his naked glory before sitting further up the bed with his back against the upholstered headboard.

"C'mere, love. Lemme see you hm?"

His invitation is made with calloused hands guiding you to straddle his lap. You make quick work of unbuttoning the dress and sliding the straps off your shoulders to reveal your chest with a sultry smile.

"May I?"

You can't help but smile at how he's a gentleman in such a moment. Most clients wouldn't even bother to remember asking, but Alfie makes you forget that he is just another client.

His large hands reach to knead your breasts, giving them such attentive appreciation as he licks his pink lips, eager to get them on you.

"It's alright, love" you whisper, seeming to read his mind.

The way his beard scratches your sensitive skin has your back arching into his warmth. His gentle and considerate admiration lures you into a trance; into a heated dream where you are able to finally feel like a woman loved.

You welcome him with fingers lacing into his messy brown locks still damp from his bath earlier. Your hips move mindless as you grind your clothed sex against his exposed cock, reminding him how good he feels and how you want him to feel the same.

Shifting onto your knees between his legs on the bed, you pepper tender kisses down his chest and stomach as your breasts dangle down and rub against his cock.

The anticipation has Alfie balling his fists into the white sheets.

"You are the most beautiful woman in the world, love. Fucking 'ell," he mumbles as your hands run up and down his thigh, giving gentle squeezes to tease him on.

"It's gonna be a long night."

#alfie solomons #alfie solomons x reader #alfie solomons x you #alfie solomons x y/n #peaky blinders imagine #peaky blinders fic #alfie solomons fic #alfie solomons imagine #alfie solomons fanfic #tom hardy

[babsisbakery]

How far will you take it?

Lia Wälti x fem!reader part 1

Do you love me or do you love that you have a gf. That you aren't single. That you don't have to spend nights alone. Someone in your arms or someone to hold you. Would you love me if i wasn’t ur gf or just when I am. Maybe you just love the idea of love but don't actually love me. Or maybe you only “love” me because you are bored and have nobody else. I'm just here and showed you affection, so you took it. Took it, to be in a relationship, to get as close as possible to actual love. In reality it isn't though. It's just a fantasy you create. But what about me?

You love being in relationships. Exes of you have warned me, multiple, so so many. I ignore your red flags. As if I had a red and green colour deficiency. I give and I give, do I receive anything in return? No. Because you need, want the affection. But when I need it, you are nowhere to be seen. When I'm clingy or want some attention. You take your sweet time responding. Time away from me.The cold shoulder, silent treatment, no response after I shoot a text. Even Duolingo messages me more than you and that's sad to admit.

I'm wondering if you leave me on-read on purpose too. I know you do sometimes on insta. Why's that? Did I offend you? Lia, you leave me with crumbs. Crumbs of your existence. Which I absorb like a greedy vacuum. This isn't healthy. It makes my mind spiral every night. Wondering if you love me. Wondering if you are cheating. Wondering if you have found the one but stay with me out of convenience. No-one in a relationship should have to wonder if their partner loves them, yet here I am. You give me almost nothing. Stop messing with my feelings, don't drag me around if you don't feel the same. Let me find someone who does in fact love me if you don't. I want a relationship where both sides give 100 percent. A balance. Yet still all my words fall to dull ears, Words spoken to someone who doesn't want to change or listen. Someone who wants to live their life to the fullest, but why drag me into this chaos of a life. 

So either you get a grip of yourself or I'm done. I'll not only leave you but Arsenal as well. I wouldn't be able to look you in the eyes. So I'm giving you an ultimatum. Yes, like one in the show but without a ring, I want to sense your commitment. Because those restless nights are plaguing my brain. I want to become a mother eventually and for that I need a partner. If it's you or not, I can't foresee. If you can't imagine a future with me, then don't. I'll go. I'll be gone. Just say the words. I’ll be out of your hair once and for all.

- Your dear friend/gf

This is the letter Lia found on the counter top after returning from a cruel training session. Lia sat down on the sofa, still in her gym clothes. She initially assumed it was some sort of grocery list, she wanted to ignore it. But something in her mind nagged her to take a better look. She was shocked and ashamed of herself. She had really broken you. This wasn't in her plans, to destroy your whole being. She simply wanted to have some fun, have you as her girl. Yet there wasn't a trace of you. Not in this apartment, albeit your belongings were still at their places, nor in training today. Now she knew the reason why you were out of sight this evening. You are gone for now. Somewhere you felt loved and cherished. She had led you to exile with one foot in the door. The question is will Lia convince you to stay or will she set you free to be at peace? Which path will she choose?...

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #lia walti #lia wälti #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

[starrynights-sunnyskies]

mine to corrupt⋆*·ﾟmisa x reader

misa and you come back on your promise to have some fun at the club where things went haywire last time.

or; a filthy continuation of mine to protect as requested

❌ 18+ mdni <3 ❌

The corner of the club where you sat was less crowded, except for the friends around you happily chatting amongst one another. You played with the drink in your hands, awfully aware of the hand on your thigh, squeezing now and then as if Misa didn’t even realise how you felt the temperature rise each time she did. You hated how once again, you found yourself not having the night you'd anticipated you'd have. It should be a fun, carefree night, and it was! You’d thankfully long ago been able to push the way the night had ended the last time you’d been here aside. But you just couldn’t let go of the halfhearted and unspoken promise you’d made to your girlfriend that same night. You still remember how you’d worked up the courage to walk up to the bathroom, thinking she was waiting there for you and that you would not return until completely satisfied. The thought had exhilarated you, even if the unknown had made you a little nervous as well. You’d never before felt the needy rush to have sex in a public space during your previous relationships. And while that spark was definitely there with Misa, with both of your football careers busy as ever, the time you had together was spent in one of your apartments.

Until that night, when you thought the opportunity had presented itself to you after Misa had disappeared into the crowd with a teasing grin. The look in her eyes as she'd watched you dance had already worked you up in a way no one had ever been able to. Then her hands had started to graze you in all the right places, for which she’d blamed the music. Because it would have simply been a shame to let you dance alone, especially when you looked so good. And even through the smothering of people, you’d been able to clock her subtle but familiar scent. It had all driven you insane. And then, before you’d been given enough time to react, she’d stepped back, her intoxicating touch disappearing, and had looked at you with that damned mischievous smirk that you could never quite get enough of. Misa had a lot of different smirks, but you knew what this one had meant— she was well aware of what she had done to you. Not only that, but she’d loved it. Still, you’d apparently misread the hint in her eyes, because you had followed after her and had then inevitably run into the end of your night. That was then, because now, you were sure she had no clue what she was doing to you, and you fucking hated her for it.

She should have known she had your attention whenever her touch appeared just above the right place on your thigh. You bit the inside of your cheeks and took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down, but most of all to put a stopper on your dirty thoughts. As if noticing the sudden tension in your body, Misa turned to you, leaned in and asked if you were okay in that goddamn voice of hers. She worried if this had been a step too far after the last time, but you quickly shook your head. You knew that it was only common decency for a partner to act this way, but fuck did it turn you on right now. Her attentiveness had always been something you adored about her, something that was quite hot because of how she went about it. That ever-present lingering hand on your lower back, the way she knew what you needed, how she would get your favourite things when she knew you were coming over, knowing to hand you your favourite drink from the fridge before you could even get up to get it. All these little acts were proof that she knew you to your core, that you were hers and she was yours. 

“I’m okay, really,” You kissed her when she smiled and puckered her lips into a pout— an invitation for you to lean in. A quick reassuring gesture, in her eyes, but absolutely the last straw for you, especially after she'd been teasing you with little touches here and there the entire night. Her hand moved from your thigh to snake around your waist and rested on your hip as she pulled you closer, closing the distance you’d purposefully made to cool yourself down. You took a quick sip from your drink and swallowed too quickly, the whole thing hurting your throat and making you wince. You heard the quietest chuckle over the music and matched it to Jenni, who was looking at you with her eyebrows raised. You clenched the glass in your hand when Misa’s fingers softly travelled down your hip, trying to find the hem of your dress by touch, then slipping underneath it as soon as she’d succeeded. Surprised, you sat up straighter, her hand falling to the side, Jenni’s eyes still on you like a hawk. 

Misa quickly looked at you through her peripheral mid-conversation, but her touch didn’t return. Much to your annoyance, she retracted the arm she’d had around you entirely and took a swig of her drink as she leaned into the conversation she’d been having. Confused, you looked at her with furrowed brows and a scowl-turned-pout on your face. You heard another chuckle and looked at Jenni, who then quickly sipped her drink and joined the conversation with Alexia and Mapi, as if she hadn’t just seen you turn into a whiney child at the lack of contact and attention from your girlfriend.

You sighed and turned back to staring at your drink, which had been an experimental choice you’d made to spice up your night for once. It was too sweet, then too sour on the tongue during the aftertaste. The tiny sips you'd taken had just been out of kindness to Alexia, who'd paid for the round.

Your eyes raked over Misa again, wondering if she had read your signs wrong. Perhaps she'd thought you were growing tense from her touch because you weren’t into it. Not here, at least. When really, you’d been thinking of her fingers grazing up your thigh again ever since they’d left. How she’d know at what point to apply the slightest bit of pressure to have you beg for her within minutes from mere grazing touches. She was good at having you grow into a begging mess, something you’d found embarrassing with other partners. Her keen eyes had always been perceptive towards how you reacted to her touches, had taken note of the little gasps or sighs you’d made whenever she touched you somewhere, or how she did it. She’d jotted it all down in her mind. She had even made you discover things you didn’t know you liked before… simply because it had never been Misa doing it to you. 

Misa laughed and reared back slightly, her hair falling off her shoulder. Her tanned arms looked so good in the top she was wearing and the light that shone on her tattoos made her look all the more alluring. You wanted to clutch onto her arm but also didn’t want to look too desperate, didn’t want the entire booth to realise you needed her to fuck you. No one needed to know she got you more intoxicated than the drink in your hand right now. Only Misa needed to know.

So, you softly scooted closer again, your hand pushing the lock of hair behind her shoulder. It looked caring to anyone else, but Misa knew it was a way to get her attention when your hand softly landed on her knee below the table. She gave you a quick adorable grin, as if to thank you for being so considerate, but then turned back to her conversation. You bit the inside of your cheek again, frustrated at her lack of attention and at yourself for making her pull back in the first place. You pulled one of your legs onto the seat, making it clear you wanted her to turn to you in the same way. You needed her eyes on you again, her sole focus on you and only you.

You watched, befuddled, as she stood up and quickly gathered all the empty glasses onto a tray on the table, her muscles flexing as she balanced it flat on her hand and walked away. You looked around the booth to see if anyone else had caught the way she’d quite literally brushed you off. Your friends were still in the midst of their conversations, except for one— Jenni was already smirking over the brim of her glass, failing terribly to hide her amusement as she tried to listen to whatever the others were chatting about.

You sat there, eyes averting to the dancing crowd to try and catch a glimpse of the woman you so loved, but all you could see were people who could never amount to the kind of gorgeous and radiating that Misa was. You didn’t make too much of an effort to jump into any of the conversations to occupy yourself while she was gone. But right now, with your heart stammering and the utter need within you taking over and, with it, removing all sense of social norms, you honestly couldn’t care less. All you wanted was Misa. Her eyes on you, on all the places only she got to see, her skin on yours, her touch on you, reacting to whatever sound left your mouth. You needed her darkened, glazed-over eyes filled with lust on you as you watched what she did and felt it all the same. You wanted to hear her praises just as much as you wanted to hear her own satisfaction. Oh, how you longed to get her to come undone, to be the one to get her to let go and give in, to take care of her and to make her forget even her own name, so long as she still knew yours. Yours... she was yours. And you were hers. 

That much was clear again when a drink got placed in front of you— your favourite. Misa stood beside you with a set of new drinks on the tray in her hands. She smiled at you and you couldn’t help but swoon and smile back, for she’d been able to read you like the back of her hand once more. 

After she had handed out the drinks, she turned to you, “You know, if you wanted to be risky tonight and try something new, there would've been better ways to go about it than wasting a good drink.” She said it so casually but so cockily too, that it didn’t make it hard for you to catch her innuendo. 

You had to stop yourself from looking like an over-enthusiastic child when you watched her arm flying over your head, but your face fell when Misa’s hand rested on the seat instead of around you. The movement sent a new wave of her perfume into your face, and you balled your fists, then squeezed your legs together the second Misa’s eyes met yours. 

That strong, intense look told you all— she’d seen it, she'd had to. She'd seen the way you’d glued your legs shut and then just as quickly crossed them, as if to purposely suffocate the one place you needed her most.

Misa tilted her head but her eyes remained void of any amusement to your aroused state. 

Misa only ever saw you worked up in one of your apartments or when the two of you were alone, when you didn't have to hide how much you wanted her, when you could voice your desires instead of having to bury them five lightyears below the very seat you were currently sitting in.

The way your cheeks had flushed, how your eyes had glazed over and stared at her in determination in a dare not to look away, and how your body went rigid at even the slightest hint of a touch… fuck, Misa loved it a little too much. What she loved more was to wait and see how much worse she could get you. What else she could do to get those pretty doe-eyes turn darker, to have those lips of yours jut out in a silent plea, or to have you simply pull her out of the booth and into the nearest taxi back home? She desperately wanted to find that out. She also knew the longer she let you suffer, the more insufferable you would get. Perhaps it would even frustrate you as much as the time you’d been interrupted thrice and you’d then turned so bossy that it had made Misa cum with barely any effort. Misa decided it was worth the chase. And so, she stayed put. Listened to her friends. Laughed at their jokes. Sipped her drink. But she did not look your way even once. It was hard. So fucking hard. But she knew that if she played her cards right, you would forgive her by the end of the night. Or, preferably, sometime close to dawn.

She licked her lips each time she took a sip to savour the flavour of her drink, she pushed her hair back over her shoulder every time it had fallen to give you a view of her neck and jaw and she absentmindedly played with one of the discarded straws lying around, knowing you were watching her hands. She could practically feel the need within you multiply the longer she kept ignoring you. She knew you were ready, way past that, she knew you would go home right now if she asked you, but why would she do that if getting you worked up like this was half the fun of what was to come? She knew she was planning on taking good care of you later on, so she wasn’t even teasing you just for the sake of seeing you squirming in your seat. Well, that, too, actually. Because it did something to her... the way you still sat clenching your thighs together, how she could tell that you wanted nothing more than to swing your leg over her lap to straddle her. Fuck. She could feel her own resolve disappear by the second. She’d never quite had you like this before, seen you like this, and she was already addicted.

From beside her, she could hear the sharp sound of your now empty glass hitting the table as you huffed. Misa’s stomach fluttered when your form suddenly draped around hers— chin on her shoulder and arms around her as you’d slightly nestled your way behind her. Subconsciously, her hand rested against one of your thighs, squeezing once as she marvelled at the whiney sigh she could hear right below her ear. You shifted your legs when her hand hadn’t quite landed close to where you wanted her, and you bit your lip in victory when the new position had made her hand easily slide toward the inside of your leg. She laughed at something Alexia was saying, but you were far too focused on her hand squeezing your inner thigh to realise her laugh had been misplaced, her focus on you instead of the conversation, as the others now looked at her a little weirdly. Her fingers travelled upward, closer to your core, but Misa stopped as soon as she could feel the heat radiating from where you were already pulsing for her.

Within an instant, she pulled her hand back towards her glass, took a swig and said something to your friends. It was safe to say that you were fucking fuming with every uncontrollable emotion on the planet— frustration, anger, annoyance, and lust.

“Misa, stop fucking playing.” You hissed into her ear, but the intimidation and annoyance you had meant to lace your tone with, had been replaced by unashamed, guttural arousal. It was when she had the audacity to look at you all innocently and worried, a clear spiel for everyone else still in the booth, that you were ready to rip her head off. She was enjoying this, having you melt away in the seat beside her on purpose, for her own entertainment. Fine. Two could play this game.

“Remember what we didn't do here last time?” You leaned in and purred in her ear like a cat in heat, “I think tonight would be a good time." You watched how your words made her freeze up slightly, "If you don’t excuse yourself to go to the bathroom and follow after me within five minutes, I’m going home, alone, and locking the door until I’m completely satisfied.” You hushed out as seductively as you could given the circumstances, then gave her an innocent smile of your own before standing up and scooting over her lap to get out of the booth. You made sure to have your butt brush against her front with just the right amount of pressure, knowing it always drove her insane whenever you sat on her lap.

You left. Didn’t turn around. Didn’t excuse yourself to your friends. With determination in your eyes, you knew you needed to get to that bathroom quicker than she could probably make you cum today. You pushed past people in tunnel vision, your eyes concentrated on the neon bathroom sign flickering high above the crowd, which doomed closer and closer. You opened the door and left the booming of the music behind you. Girls were reapplying their make-up and fixing their hair as a smell mixed with fragrances, soap and booze ensnared your senses. You paid none of them any mind as you quickly rushed into the last toilet in the long row of stalls. It had its door creaked open, inviting you and your filthy plans inside. It was when you locked the door and lowered the lid to sit down that you realised the predicament you, or rather Misa, had put yourself in as you stared at the poster of next week’s DJ taped to the door. You were in the bathroom of a club, filled with need, panties wet and clinging to your hot skin, body tingling and mind only set on one thing— to get so fucked that you would forget the fact you were supposed to feel a little nervous about having sex in a public setting for the first time in your life.

You zipped open your clutch, quickly making use of whatever was inside to freshen yourself up so that you’d at least be a little more presentable. You could hear the songs fade in and out of each other and even here, the women at the sink had to raise their voices to be heard over the music. Each time the door opened and the sounds from the club got louder, you sucked in a breath and readied yourself for the knock that could come. Only it never did. You’d peered out of the door the first four times, but with your current unstilted hunger not being met as quickly as you’d hoped, it had felt like an eternity before you finally heard her voice call out for you.

You tugged her inside before anyone could realise what the two of you would be getting up to and then locked the door, pushing her against it as quick as you could. It sucked the breath out of her with the force and gave her no room for pleasantries.

It had been a gamble to leave you longer than she’d wanted, but it had been a risk Misa had been willing to take. She knew letting you wait just a tad longer and have you sit with your arousal could have your senses and needs heightened even more, and it seemed she had been right, going by the feral look in your eyes. All semblance of coyness was gone.

“Fifteen fucking minutes, are you kidding me?!” You growled, hating how her hands on your hips made you pathetically push further against her. 

She eyed you, curiously, then with pride, “It was a risk, I’ll admit,” Her hands travelled to your lower back before softly cupping your ass while her eyes stayed on you. The look she gave you quickly replaced her cockiness— her eyes darkened even more and glazed over with visible hunger of her own. 

“Don’t lie to me, you’re the most worked up you’ve ever been, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” You sighed out in a high-pitched whine when she squeezed your ass and pushed you against her front, the other hand carefully placing a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“You know how hard it was to ignore you?” She placed a soft kiss below your ear as her hand cupped your jaw before she deliberately let her lips graze down your neck, “How difficult it was to see you squirm and not do anything about it?” She nibbled at your collarbone, the prickly sensation sending goosebumps across your body. It reminded you of the time you'd added ice cubes to your night once.

You pulled her face up to yours, eyebrows furrowed and eyes set in pathetic need, “How will you make it up to me?”

Misa started to softly scratch at the nape of your neck, her other hand preventing you from creating any distance between the two of you.

"How do you want me to?"

Fuck, you had been so filled with the simple need of just being fucked by your girlfriend that you hadn’t even given yourself time to fantasise just how you wanted to initiate your first time having sex somewhere other than your apartments. It had you turning shy all of a sudden, as if this was the first time you were having sex, as if those months of dating had been erased from your mind. You knew very well what you liked, hell, you knew what she liked even better, but still. You felt like a pitiful teenager who could only focus on the very present throbbing between her legs and on nothing else except that. But you didn’t want to just let her pull down your panties and have your girlfriend go to work. You wanted to give yourself a little more flair than that. You could hold on a little longer, you had to. Because you hadn't just waited an hour only for it to be over within a couple of seconds.

Misa tilted her head, seemingly aware of the train of thoughts that kept your mind off track. She placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, then licked her lips before placing another one on your bottom lip, setting her teeth into it slightly to pull your focus back to her. 

“Tell me how you want it,” She mumbled against your lips again, her nose nuzzling yours, “Tell me,” You heard the desperation in her voice then, betraying how worked up you’d made her too, or rather, she’d made herself by denying you for so long. It made the intense warmth in the pit of your stomach grow even more unbearable— she had waited for this as much as you had.

Your fingers dug into her hips as you pulled one of her legs between your own, letting out a soft whimper as her clothed thigh grazed over your panties. The fabric of her jeans was just the right amount of sturdy to stimulate you. Misa lifted her leg up, resting its weight against the door with her foot propped up against it so that you didn’t have to stand on your tippy toes to grind on her leg.

You pulled her close, immediately going in for the kiss you’d been wanting for the past hour. Her tongue slipped between your lips almost immediately, swirling, pushing and dancing with your own in a hot mash of fury and hunger. Meanwhile, her hands on your hips softly coaxed your hips to grind against her leg in a steady rhythm, helping you ride her. Misa groaned at the breathy moans that left your mouth between kisses. Fuck, did she love the way she could turn you to putty with her touch. She trusted you would keep the movement going, so her hands left your hips. She couldn’t help herself and slowly pulled your dress over your butt. Her hands dipped into your underwear, resting against your ass as she squeezed you and pushed you harder onto her leg each time you grind into her again. The extra touch of her guidance made you growl in ferocious need. God, why did she have to be so hot?

"Fuck-" Your head fell back as a pathetic moan cracked your throat. Misa nibbled your neck all over, then her tongue softened the spots before a kiss sealed them off. Your soaked panties had rolled up and moved aside from the grinding, making the fabric of her jeans meet the flesh of your skin directly. Between that and the squeezing, pulling, kissing and sighing of Misa, you knew you were so close going by the fast-paced throbbing you could feel want to take over. But you weren’t satisfied, not completely, because there was still an ache within you whose needs weren’t being met. You wanted her touch there, needed her there, and you didn’t care what she would do to answer that need, so long as you would feel her inside of you within the next thirty seconds.

You stopped your grinding, realised she’d snaked up your dress halfway and decided to pull it over your head entirely. You discarded it behind you, not caring one bit where that thing would end up, not while Misa was kissing your bra-clad nipples, which perked at her touch. You took a step back, both your eyes falling onto the wet patch on Misa’s pants. Oh, the mess you'd made.

Her eyes were more intense than you’d ever seen them and you knew that beneath those jeans, she had made just as big a mess. She blindly grasped for your hands, not breaking eye contact, her thumbs grazing over them as she removed herself from the door. She made you take a step back as she walked you up to the side of the stall, careful to not have you hit your back against the paper dispenser. She slowly pulled your undies down with one finger, helping you step out of them when they reached your ankles. Her hands slid over your legs while doing so, knowing exactly how each extra touch would make you turn even crazier.

“Put your foot on the lid,” She instructed and you knew to listen, gasping as the air immediately became a stark contrast to the warm slickness between your legs. You watched as your girlfriend put her hair in a high ponytail, the scent of her shampoo from the shower earlier that night bringing you some sense of familiarity in this very unfamiliar space.

Misa tutted softly when she kneeled down, her eyes taking in your shameful sight and how you’d dripped through your underwear and down your inner thighs.

You wanted to blame her and guilt her for having made you wait this long. How did she dare to berate you when she’d been the one to blame for this? But you swallowed your witty quip down when her eyes found yours, watching your face change from annoyance to a needy pout that you trapped between your teeth. She kept her eyes on you, wanting to see the way you’d react to her mouth licking away your arousal.

Your hand pulled at her ponytail the second she latched on, flicking it around your fist to keep a tight grip on her and dare her to move away. She knew you were close going by the shallow breaths trapped in your chest and your scent that intoxicated her in the best way possible. She also knew that if she played this well, she’d get you to enjoy yourself a little longer.

You moaned and went pliant in her hands as she flicked your clit with her tongue, feeling two of her fingers slide through your folds at the same time. Your hand flew over your mouth to smother the unholy sounds wanting to come out when you heard the door open again and a new set of people came in.

“No- put that hand away.”

Misa had seen it, with her eyes still carefully noticing all your little, and not so little, reactions to her touch. Her growl had sounded muffled from between your thighs, awakening tingling vibrations against your skin. When you didn’t listen, she softly pried your hand away herself, brought it down to her face and tenderly kissed your palm before placing your hand on her shoulder.

All softness was gone when her tongue flicked against your clit again, this time in a fast-paced rhythm, applying just enough pressure for it to have the best effect and not overwhelm you too quickly. You looked down right into your girlfriend's eyes, your body yelling at you to squeeze your eyes shut in euphoria, to give in, but your mind not wanting to part from the intense eye contact she was directing your way as you watched her head bob between your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” You let out a string of gasps that were followed by what Misa deemed the most gorgeous moaning sobs that had ever left your mouth. And when she softly pushed the tips of her two fingers to your centre, she knew you were already seeing stars after all the stimulation you’d had mere moments before on her thigh. 

You weren’t here with her anymore, that much was clear going by your eyes which you’d squeezed shut as if your life depended on it, your mouth hanging open and your body slumping against her and the stall. Fine, she thought, she’d give in and let you have it. She couldn’t wait any longer to have you cum onto her fingers anyway. It had been too long and as much as she hated both your careers for keeping you apart, she loved the intense sex you'd have each time you saw each other again. Besides, thinking of the past hour, you deserved it after having been such a good and patient girlfriend. 

The second you felt her slender fingers push their way into you, you swore you were done for. You always loved whenever she used her fingers, the feeling of them against your walls each time they’d throb, pulse and clench, was something you would never get enough of. Still, it was as if Misa was set on making you cum as quickly as she could when her pace turned relentless. The sounds her fingers made as they continued to push in and out of your core, together with her tongue flicking against your wet clit would send anyone into a blushing mess, and you were no exception. But it was her groans that had changed your clenching from going as fast as your heartbeat, to prolonged duration while the pit of your stomach grew white-hot. You'd long ago given up the fight to not let go too soon.

You felt every sensation in your body and yet nothing in your mind all at the same time. The way Misa was making you feel was all-consuming and euphoric and left you feeling so so so greedy for your release that all guilt or embarrassment for whoever could hear you was thrown out of the window. All sense of control was gone, including your self-consciousness. Your body took over, your mind having been turned off as you couldn't even decipher one single coherent thought. Something was building you up, kept pulling you higher and higher. Tiny electric tingles were felt all throughout your body, tingling your skin in tiny explosions to prepare you for the most important one. The tension had you hold your breath and freeze your limbs as your back arched. You didn’t feel Misa’s hands on the back of your bare legs, softly guiding you to rest against the wall again to steady you for your orgasm. The lewd sounds that bounced off the walls of the tiny stall turned you into a whimpering mess, which in return made Misa groan against your core as she sucked again, sharply and quickly, before she mirrored the rhythm of her fingers with her tongue. You couldn’t take it anymore, didn’t know how you were still standing with this clenching feeling keeping a suffocating hold over you, practically pushing all the strength out of you to get you to release. 

Misa had kept her eyes on you the entire time, knowing it was only a matter of seconds now. She hated the way she could feel her own undies clinging to her, hating even more how bad she was hurting to be touched by you. It was hard to keep satisfying you when her body begged her to listen to the enjoyable pain between her own legs, but the look on your face fuelled her focus. But fuck, those sounds you were making, the way your walls had clenched around her as she’d added a third finger, almost begging her to keep them there… the taste of your sweetness that was like ambrosia to her... it was all becoming too much.

She quickly stood up, not able to squeeze her legs as much as she wanted from her position between yours to stop herself from cumming first. You didn’t open your eyes, the phantom feeling of her mouth and tongue on your clit still so present that you hadn’t even noticed she’d removed herself. You finally realised she’d done so when two firm lips pressed against your own, your own arousal now coating your lips and tongue as she kissed you deeply. She helped you hook your leg around her waist and lifted you up against her a little, making it easier for her to angle her hand and push inside you ever deeper. Your gasps and whimpers mixed perfectly with those of her own between your messy but firm kisses. Your arms snaked around her neck, but that was all you managed to do before a familiar feeling pulsed through your entire body, from the nape of your neck to your toes. You went with it, letting your body guide you through the sensual feeling of your release. You let it take control, let it push you into a relaxing numbness, not even daring to fight it because the feeling was simply too good. 

“You’re fucking gorgeous.” Misa mumbled into your mouth after some curse words at seeing you come completely undone in her arms. But you hadn’t heard a word of it as her touch, and what her touch had released within you, had lulled you into a state of pure and primal bliss. 

It wasn’t until gentle kisses were pressed against your temple and you felt Misa’s strong arms keeping your shaking body up that you realised you'd been gone momentarily. 

The world softly came back to you. First, you heard the rapid bass of the music again, then, as your eyes slowly fluttered open, you watched as Misa’s eyes were on you, taking you in. You weakly patted her chest to answer the question in her eyes, telling her you were good, but just needed a moment. You watched her take some paper towels, but you didn’t fully register it until you felt her gently clean you up, eyes as soft and caring as if she hadn’t just defiled you better than you could have ever imagined she would in a fucking bathroom stall. 

Misa tapped your ankle gently, helping you back into your undies as you rested your hands atop her shoulders. Then she pulled your dress back over your head with such care, that you swore you could swoon. She didn’t need you to tell her that there would be no round two. Not here, at least, not right after. She’d take you home, make you a warm bath, clean you up properly and help your body relax after the energy it had spent. 

She wanted to sit you down on the lid, to have you take a breather, but Misa furrowed her brows when you softly pushed her against the door, having regained some of your strength, and, going by the look in your eyes, also some of your hunger. Your shaking fingers pulled at the buttons of her jeans before you helped her shimmy out of them. Misa’s breath hitched as she watched you get on your knees in front of her, using her jeans to pad them from the harsh cold tiles. This wasn’t what she deserved after she’d purposefully neglected you for the longest time. This spontaneous adventure had been meant to please you, not herself, even if hearing and seeing you cum because of her had almost sent her over the edge as well. 

You knew this, knew Misa could be a very selfless lover, always putting your needs before her own, which was exactly why you couldn't have that today. Or... could you? In your mind, despite the mindblowing orgasm your girlfriend had just given you, it was still 0-0, for she'd only done what was right after teasing you.

“What are you-”

She gasped as you pulled down her panties to her ankles and lifted one of her legs to rest over your shoulder. Your fast breaths fanned her core in a way that drove her insane already. Your mouth hovered over her for the five longest seconds Misa had ever known as you waited to see what she’d do or say, if you could break her like she'd broken you. She let out a whine, high but short.

Fuck, Misa hadn’t expected this turn of events and had willed her orgasm back into oblivion, but now it came back to her full force as she watched your pretty little face looking up at her, ready to fuck her into that same oblivion. The sight almost made her shy and blush furiously. 

The sound of her desperation ushered you on. The second your warm mouth latched onto her clit, sucking it between your lips, she was a moaning mess above you. Her hands which were usually so in control on a day-to-day basis became a chaotic mess in your now tangled hair as she pulled and tugged to get you closer. Her leg tensed and trapped you flush against her as she slightly slid down the door, unable to keep herself up when all the strength that had previously been in her legs, now went to keeping herself from orgasming right then and there, just so that she could enjoy this feeling a little longer. She revelled in the feeling of your firm grip on the back of her trembling legs and your hand travelling up her trained stomach, where your hand could feel the clench of her muscles. She promised herself to make sure to work the both of you up so many more times after this, if this was a possible result.

Misa could feel herself go, could sense something taking over for her, seeing as she no longer controlled herself, but then you moved away. You immediately heard her catch the breath she’d held for as long as your mouth had been on her clit. You licked a broad stroke down, towards her centre, and felt your tongue slide through her folds so easily it almost made you chuckle at how close she already was. She mewled above you, the sound mixing with the noise of the club and the chatter in the background. She threw her head back, bumping it into the door, then three times more while her hands looked for whatever she could hold onto and keep her upward the moment your tongue slid into her painfully slow.

Oh, how you loved everything about this— her heated arousal on your tongue and dripping down your chin, her leg locking you in, the sounds she was making which you knew could definitely be heard from the other side of the door and the realisation that you wanted her to be even louder. Still, you hated how this cramped space constricted you from angling up towards her the way you wanted, how your tongue could not do what you knew she needed. But… perhaps this was exactly what she deserved? Just a little taste of what she could have had, had she not ignored you and just taken you home to properly fuck you senseless…. use whatever you had at home to make it even better, have the entire apartment at your disposal with so many perfect spots... and not be trapped in this tiny cubicle. 

Misa slid down against the door, positioning her hips in a way that gave you easier excess to get deeper, but right as she anticipated your tongue to dip in further and lick at her walls, you pulled away. 

With wide eyes of confusion and pure disbelief, she watched as you wiped at your chin with a paper towel, then used the back of your thumb to wipe away the last bits on your lip, licking it clean with the dirtiest look directed at her.

Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, and you realised you’d stopped at the most excruciating moment for her. 

“What-” She swallowed hard and watched as you softly placed your fingers beneath her chin to pull her into a sweet kiss. Misa kissed back eagerly, pressing into you, arms hoping to pull you back to her. But then you bent down only to help her back into her clothes as if you hadn’t just been on the brink of ruining her. 

“Will you let me wait again or will you go home with me right now?” You fixed your hair by touch without any mirror in sight, grabbed your clutch and gave her the sweetest grin, knowing you had her in the palm of your hand.

“Y/N-” She breathed out, still alienated by the turn of events. 

“That’s what I expect to hear out of that pretty mouth within… hmmm-” You checked your phone, "Half an hour, or so? Depends on if we can grab a taxi quickly.”

“Fuck-” She gasped out, but let out a breathy, unbelieving chuckle as she pulled a hand through her hair.

With the most innocent look you could muster while feeling anything but, you asked, “I thought you said you wanted to try being edged?”

“Not like this!” She whined and rubbed her temples, pushing herself off the door. She went quiet for a few seconds before she shook her head, the ghost of a smile playing on her face, “I deserved this, didn’t I?”

“Your words.” You said before playfully pinching her cheek and kissing her again, making sure that she got the message that you’d make sure you’d finish what you’d started as soon as your front door would fall shut in its hinges. You stood there a couple of minutes, both having to take a breather before going back out.

You perked your ears to figure out if you had a crowd on the other side of the door.

Misa laughed beside you,

“We're way past worrying about people catching on… and uh," She grinned guiltily, "-you better prepare to go back to the booth. I left my jacket there.”

You looked at her, face frozen to see if she was kidding. She wasn’t. You knew you’d already been gone for fifteen minutes minimum only waiting for Misa, you had no idea how long the two of you had been in here together. But Misa looked absolutely ruined and she hadn’t even truly been at the receiving end. You worried you wouldn't be able to pass as innocent in the eyes of your friends, knowing you probably looked way past salvation. 

“Um, walk of shame, I guess?”

Misa opened the lock and walked out backwards, not giving a damn if people saw the two of you leaving the stall together, looking the way you did.

She grinned like the cheshire cat, “More like a victory lap?”

“You insatiable minx!” You tried to playfully slap her with your clutch, but she’d grabbed your arm and pulled you closer to her instead. 

“Who cares. Let them be jealous of us.” She squeezed your hand, twice, and guided you through the crowd of dancing people and coloured flashing lights. The beat of the music mirrored that of your heart which still hadn’t quite settled down and only picked up again as you approached the booth with your friends, hand-in-hand. Then you realised...

"Misa- your pants!" You quickly stopped, gesturing to her thigh where visible proof of your shenanigans still coated her jeans. She waved it off, laughing awkwardly, "It's too dark here to notice. Someone just spilt a drink on me, if they ask. Which they won't, because that'd be a really awkward question." She pulled you closer, comforting you, and you accepted the invite to cling to her.

“Aaah! Look at this-” Jenni’s voice immediately boomed over the music when she saw you approach, catching everyone’s attention as they followed her line of sight to Misa and you. "-there you are!"

“I thought you two had left!” Mapi rose her eyebrows, before she, along with the group noticed your flushed cheeks from the afterglow and how you were practically glued to each other. There was a tension floating between the two of you, visible and tangible. Even a fool could sense what had gone on.

“I forgot my jacket, but yeah, we’re done for tonight,” Misa spoke shamelessly, grabbed her jacket off the seats and immediately, albeit smoothly, held it in front of her ruined jeans before she joined you in kissing your friends goodbye.

“We’ll see you all tomorrow, yeah? Lunch at one, was it?” You wanted to make sure.

"Sure..." Jenni drew out, not believing you would leave the apartment before the sun would go down again.

You saw the exact thought wander across Misa's face as she guided you outside to the taxi stands. She finally turned to you, "About tomorrow... do we really have to?"

You rolled your eyes and pulled her closer, hooking your arm in hers and nuzzling into her as you walked together, "A promise is a promise."

"Exactly, and, well... you did promise to continue where we left off, so what if that takes up the entire night and I'm simply too tired to make it to lunch in time?"

You looked up at her, a cheeky glint in your eyes, "Then I guess we'll just have to be fashionably late."

⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ⋆*·ﾟ

© 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸.

#misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine

[ilypaigebuckets]

could you write something about Caitlin based on so high school by Taylor?

literally same wavelength bc i was thinking abt writing this last night that’s crazy!!! i hope you like it! as always my reqs are open for you guys :) feel free to request any scenarios, hcs, prompts, etc <3

pairing: cc x reader

plot summary: caitlin gets asked a question about her girlfriend at a post game interview and it takes her back to her high school years with you.

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“So Caitlin,” an interviewer questions, “you were on fire tonight on the court. What gives you that drive and that power to keep pushing through?” Caitlin tightened her ponytail and cocked her head to the side, thinking of an answer.

“I couldn’t have done it without the support of my family, teammates and of course my Coach. But there’s something else, well someone else, that definitely has played a huge part into my success over the years. My beautiful girl Y/N. She’s supported me through everything, ever since I’ve known her. She’s just this ball of sunshine that’s just..just my everything. She’s been my biggest supporter and being around her just makes me feel like so..i don’t know so high school, I guess?” Caitlin chuckles at the end of her sentence, thinking back to get when first fell for you

I. I want to find you in a crowd just to hide from you.

It was your junior year of high school when you started to get close with Caitlin. You were a new student and had sat by her in her chem class. She took a liking to you immediately. You weren’t exactly the science type, your forte being more English and History; Language composition, Aristotle, socratic seminars, those were your thing. You came right as basketball season was starting and Caitlin saw this as a perfect opportunity to get closer with the pretty girl in her chem.

“Hey! Super random but are you a basketball fan?” Caitlin questioned you, “I have a game today if you want come”.

“I mean it’s not really my thing, but I’d love to come support you!” You replied cheerfully.

Fast forward to the game, your schools team won 58-67, thanks to Caitlin and her amazing skills.

Caitlin’s teammates surrounded her, but all she could think about was the pretty girl in her chemistry class that came to watch her. Just her. She searched for you in the crowd until she finally saw you. She was to scared for your eyes to meet, and quickly looked away. She hurried back to the locker room with her cheeks pink underneath the gymnasium’s twinkling lights. She wiped the sweat off her forehead and checked her phone.

Y/N💕

you were great tonight! thanks for the invite ;)

Caitlin buried her head in her hands. You were going to be the death of her.

2. I’ll drink what you think and I’m high

Later that year, Caitlin took you out to a house party. She thought it would be a great way to get you out of your shell and meeting new people. Not in a romantic sense of course, she already had dibs on you and everyone except her knew it.

At the party you both declined any drinks offered to you, wanting to stay clean and level headed for your first official “hangout” together. Despite staying sober, Caitlin was cracking up at every one of your jokes. You continued them just to see her smile.

“Wonder how much Cait’s had to drink.” One of her teammates said. “Not a drop,” another replied.

The latter was right. Caitlin Clark was simply drunk on love.

3. Are you gonna Marry, Kiss, or Kill me?

The end of your junior year, Caitlin took you to another party. You two were crushing and crushing hard, but hadn’t made anything official yet.

One of your mutual friends suggested you play a game of kiss, marry, kill and being bored out of your minds, you all complied. “So Y/N, kiss, marry, kill. Caitlin, Alexis, and Joshua.” You didn’t skip a beat and replied instantaneously.

“Easy peasy. Cait for all three.”

“WHAT?!” Caitlin shrieked, “You wanna kill me?!” looking at you with an expression of mock horror.

“Well, you can’t pick 2 and not the other. So technically I have no other choice.” You looked at her sweetly.

“Actually I think the point of the game is you assign one name to either kiss, marry, or kill.” Your mutual friend started, “But I’ll let it slide for you two lovebirds.”

4. Touch me while your boys play GTA.

It was your high school senior year. Caitlin’s basketball team was having a relaxed hangout at her house, playing video games. You had made your relationship official over the summer, and were excited to see what this school year had in store for you both.

You and Caitlin were snuggled up together under a blanket on her couch, while her teammates sat on the ground below playing Grand Theft Auto, a game you knew nothing about. You and Caitlin stared at each other intensely and suddenly you jumped in your seat. The hand on your thigh had shocked you, Caitlin had always seemed so PG to you. You looked up at her with an “are you crazy?!” look on your face. She used her free hand to put up her pointer finger to her mouth as if to shush you.

You weren’t quick ready to take things further than that, never having had anybody the way you’d had her before. She of course respected you and gave you a kiss on the forehead, and then proceeded to get up. “Okay guys, time for me to show you why Y/N calls me the Grand Theft Auto Annihilator.”

“Dude. I have never in my life thought about calling you that.”

5. I’m hearing voices, like a madman.

Freshman year of college and you both had committed to the University of Iowa. The two of you had, of course, decided to room together, and were happy and content with how everything had worked out for you too.

Living together proved to be somewhat challenging at first, with Caitlin being quite messy with her things. She was usually level-headed and wasn’t one to start fights, but God forbid you mention something about her not keeping her side of your room clean. Her D1 ego would not allow you to.

That day you two had bickered about Caitlin not doing the dishes like she’d promised to. “Caitlin. There’s literally 3 dishes in the sink, and you said you’d do them. C’mon man.” You said to her, half joking in an attempt to get her to listen without arguing. But Caitlin had already had a stressful morning and was not in the mood. “I’ll do them after,” She spoke curtly. “I have practice.” She jumped up, grabbed her bag, and stalked out of the dorm.

During practice, she was a mess. She kept missing shots. “Serves her right,” She thought to herself, “Little Miss ‘Oh I’m Y/N yes I’m so clean and proper lalalala-” Caitlin paused as she realized how absolutely ridiculous she sounded. She reminded herself of you whenever you did impressions of your dad. In an instant she busted into a fit of giggles, sharing her thought with her teammates so they could laugh too.

After practice, she came straight home to your shared dorm and spent the rest of the night making it up to you with a movie night filled with popcorn, candy, and most importantly a clean sink.

Caitlin snapped back into the present as the interviewer finished her thought, “It sure seems like your girlfriend Y/N has played a huge role in not only your life on the court but also off of it. How sweet! Where is she tonight?”

“She’s actually…” Caitlin turned around to look for you, and saw you walking past her to Kate wearing one of her jersey’s. She softly grabbed your arm and pulled you into the camera’s view. “She’s right here! Hi baby!” Caitlin gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before turning her attention back to the interview.

“So Y/N, in your eyes how do you think Caitlin did tonight?” The interviewer now questioned you.

You took a moment to think and then smiled, “Amazing as always. She’s always been amazing. Ever since high school where I met her.”

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #iowa hawkeyes #paige bueckers