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freyito · 2 days

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ꜰʀᴇʏᴀ ꜝ ⨟ ʜᴏᴡ ʜᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ

✭ pairing(s): aventurine, dr ratio, boothill, gallagher, sunday, argenti sampo, jing yuan, blade, luocha, dan heng, gepard, caelus, welt (seperate) x reader

✩ inspo: this is fun to think about

✧ a/n: for those who don't know exactly what this means (also shoutout to freya the god of love), there are 3-5 'types' of (romantic) love. eros, romantic love, ludus, playful love, pragma, enduring love, and then there's mania which is obsessive love and agape which is universal love. The last two can sorta bend in a familiar or platonic way as well as romantic.

🗒 cw: gn reader, just fluff, proofread

✎ wc: 3.3k

⎯ Aventurine

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Aventurine prefers to flirt, to have fun, be a little silly with his love. After all, life’s too short to not enjoy it. He wants a partner who will not only put up with his games but also join in and enjoy it, someone to tease who will tease back. He would love a deeper connection as well, but before that comes fun.

“Honey, I’m hooome~!” Aventurine calls from the apartment door, making his way to the kitchen. You weren’t cooking anything, simply sifting through the fridge for a snack. His arms wrap around your waist as the scent of his near overbearing cologne washes over you. He presses his lips to your neck and peppers it with a bunch of fleeting kisses, mumbling about his day into your skin even though you didn’t ask. When you dared to try and pull away, he only pulls you closer, pinching at your waist and grinning. “Awhhh, are you not happy to see me?”

He doesn’t give you time to reply, hauling you up and turning on his heels. You don’t get to complain, not before he practically throws you on the bed and throws himself onto you. He wastes no time finding your most ticklish spots, waiting for you to ask for mercy. “I want a proper welcome home!” He exclaims, like you hadn't given him enough attention. Not like you can do what he wants while you do your best not to laugh, squirming underneath him, trying to break free from his tickle attack.

⎯ Dr. Ratio

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Ratio isn’t necessarily the best at showing his affection, he is head over heels for you. Absolutely and irrevocably in love, and it only grows with each passing day. He’s quite the gentleman when you get past his cold demeanor, and is quite by-the-book.

You had met him in his classroom after his classes, to give him the lunch you had made him. He regards you with a brisk ‘mh’, You are used to this reaction, and you don’t take it to heart. He tells you he’ll be home a little later, and apologizes. Silence stretches between you two before you tell him it’s alright and start to leave the room.

“I am sorry, my love,” He grabs your wrist before you can fully turn around. He presses a kiss to the inside of your wrist, eyes locked on yours as he apologizes. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Dinner tomorrow.” He’s so blunt with it, like you have no choice. But he says it with such sincerity, an emotion that is hard to get from him. His eyes linger with yours as you nod, before letting you go and returning to grading his student’s papers.

⎯ Boothill

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Boothill loves with his whole heart, but he just can’t take it seriously. He’s always teasing you, whether it be sultry words, little touches, anything. He loves making you blush.

Tonight, you two are at some bar he had dragged you to, and it’s quite lively. Which gives Boothill ample time to show you off, his arm around your shoulders or your waist whenever someone comes up to talk to you or him. He leans in ever so closer with that toothy grin, eyes half-lidded as he whispers something about how cute you look tonight. When he sees even the tiniest blush begin to bloom, he amps up his flirting tenfold.

Over the entire night, he makes little comments that turn into big flourishes of his love for you, small, teasing touches that trail from your shoulder down to your hands, interlocking your fingers. He leans in close and whispers against your ear, not necessarily just flirts, literally anything he can think of, like that you guys need to put soda on the grocery list or something. It’s the way his breath fans over your ear that causes goosebumps to riddle skin. You try and hide your blushing face, but he grabs your chin and tilts your head to meet his gaze, using his hat to shield your faces from the rest of the patrons and pressing a kiss to your lips.

⎯ Gallagher

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. While Gallagher may not sound like it, he’s romantic by heart and looks for a partner he can spend his life with. He wants to settle down, enjoy something that lasts. And he prefers a partner that does the same.

He was lounging on the couch at home, a rare sight normally. When you walked into the living room, he greeted you with a lazy smile, reaching for you like he wasn’t a 30 something year old man. He grabbed your wrist and guided you into his arms with a yawn, nuzzling into your neck and breathing in your scent. He lets out a deep, rumbling ‘mmm’ as he does so, sharing no other words.

Any time you try to break free from his hold, whether you wanna eat or need to go to the bathroom, he groans. He doesn’t say much, whispering quiet ‘love yous’ here and there, and if you really do have to get up, he practically follows you around. He’s rarely ever clingy, he’s probably one of the most independent people you know. He’s only like this when he has something on his mind, and marriage isn’t exactly a far off thought…

⎯ Sunday

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Sunday is a textbook romantic. A dinner and a movie, roses, have you home by ten, he’s the whole package. Anything you could want, you will have. There’s always a fresh bouquet of flowers in the vase in your living room, and perhaps a new poem for/about you every month.

Whatever he gave you in reality, he gave you tenfold in the Dreamscape (especially since he can). This includes his affection, where you two are hidden away… somewhere in Dewlight Pavillion. Somewhere where Sunday promises no one will find you two. It’s not as if you two are doing something lewd, he’s nestled up against your chest, that’s about it. But, he’s been yearning for some time alone with you since forever. With how busy he has been, he hadn’t got a moment alone with you.

“I missed you.” He states. His work is secondary to this moment, as he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to your palm, before nuzzling his cheek into it, all the while his eyes stay on yours. He has you flustered by the way he does it so desperately, yet so… carefully. He needed this, but he didn’t want to allow himself to lose his composure. So, the best he could do was steal you away when you were bringing him his mail, leave you breathless with a few tender kisses and gentle touches, and lead you back to your way out of the Pavillion.

⎯ Argenti

AGAPE ; UNIVERSAL LOVE. Love, devotion, and worship go hand in hand in hand for Argenti. He loves with his heart, body, mind, and soul. He loves unconditionally, every little bit of you, even the ground you walk on. Where the water wet your skin, where the dirt kissed your hands, he loves and loves and loves.

You two are dancing in your kitchen, to a soundless beat. The only rhythm coming from your barely-heard footsteps and the clank of Argenti’s armor as he shares such a moment with you. It is rare that he is home, always out on some adventure across star systems, but it is always a celebration when he is. Atleast, he makes it a celebration. Laughter fills the room as you try your best to keep up with his steps, the man elegant and flawless, as usual, while you stumble just a tick behind.

“You’ve got it, I know you do.” Argenti coos as you do your best to fall into his steps, still stumbling every so often. He dips you down, eyes searching yours with that content smile plastered on his face, before he pulls you up and chest-to-chest with him. His eyes sparkle with mirth, spinning you two around as if your kitchen was a real and proper ballroom, swaying gently. His eyes closed then, humming some tune, a song lost to time that only he remembered. He had hummed it on your longest days and on your darkness nights, the days you weeped and sobbed in his arms, and the days you had turned to him with such a bright smile. A tune that resembled something homely.

⎯Sampo Koski

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. While Sampo can be quite the romantic, he prefers to tease and play with you instead. Sure, he could dance with you all night long, bring you fresh roses everyday, but where’s the fun in that? He finds it much more fitting to flirt with you on end, brag a little about his ‘sales’, splurge a little for you every now and then.

You walk into your bedroom to find Sampo laying on his side, his head propped up with his hand, a rose in his mouth. He gives you a mock-sultry glare while you stand there, dumbfounded, halfway between disgust and laughter. Rose petals decorate the bed, and the room, and you tell yourself that you’ll have to remind him later that he’ll be cleaning it up.

For now, though, he beckons you closer, and when you do, he pulls you onto the bed quickly, spitting out the rose, and peppering your face with kisses. The room fills with laughter as you do your best to break away, but he continues this torrent of kisses, rarely taking a breath. When you complain that ‘it’s too much!’ he only ups the ante, kissing your neck, your shoulder, any exposed skin he can find. You simply just have to accept your fate, now…

⎯ Jing Yuan

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. He who has waited for an eternity yearns for an eternity spent in one’s arms. Jing Yuan has lost most of those dear to him, if not all. While he knows life will reach its end, he cannot help but wish he had someone to spend the rest of it with.

It is very rare for Jing Yuan to be free for even an hour, and yet here he was, a whole day to himself. He’s lounging in his room, basking in the sun while you lay in his arms, reading a book. You two barely share any words, yet the silence between says it all. It’s a comfortable feeling, something that feels like home, something he cherishes every second of. It’s one thing to find home within the Xianzhou, but it’s another to find home in someone’s arms.

He tilts his head as he looks down at the book your reading, contemplating if he wanted to pull your attention away from the book, or not. With a soft ‘hmph’, he makes his decision to leave you alone, choosing to nuzzle into your hair instead. You don’t react, which he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer as he closes his eyes. Perhaps an afternoon nap would do him some good…

⎯ Blade

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Not even death could keep Blade away from you. His own suicidal tendencies, his never-ending want to die, his need to die, his own voice begging for a means to an end, it all washes away when he sees your smile, as if the sun is greeting him once more after such a wretched eclipse.

He knows he has loved in the past, and yet when he recalls that feeling, Blade is only met with a burning feeling akin to rage clawing its way through his chest. He prefers to not think about it much, focusing on Elio’s script and whatever mission he’s been dispatched on. Yet, when he’s met with you laying in his bed, messing with his phone, waiting for him, a different kind of feeling weaves its way into his heart. Something warm, a kindling, of sorts.

His own voice quiets when he allows himself to feel that feeling, peace, perhaps? He’s quick to brush it off, shove it down along with any other emotion that was daring to well up, and takes a seat next to you. When you look up and beckon him closer, he doesn’t accept. But, he does lean in, and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. It’s a rare display, you can’t remember the last time he even dared to hold your hand. And before you can question him, he’s gone, out of the room, leaving his phone behind, like always.

⎯ Luocha

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. Luocha is quite the romantic when he wants to be. Since he spends most of his time wandering, he doesn’t get to see you very often. But when he returns home, he loves nothing more than to share stories of his travels and hold you in his arms. You are his anchor, what brings him back to reality when his thoughts drift to the distant churches and candle wicks that give way to angry flames…

He finds you sleeping on the couch, phone in hand, twitching every now and then, but making no real reaction to any sound. It was clear that you were waiting for Luocha to come home, and had succumbed to sleep. Luocha had texted you 4 days ago that he would be home, and you yourself had no idea how long you had been up, the past couple of days had skewed your perception of time. By now, it was around 3:00 am.

With a soft huff and an even softer gaze, Luocha scoops you up into his arms and carries you to your shared bed. He’s careful, doing his best to be as quiet as possible as he carries you, but you still wake up. You mutter a slurred ‘Luocha?’, and all he does is shush you, shaking his head and greeting you with a warm smile. You don’t get time to protest as he lays you down on the bed, giving you a soft kiss on your forehead, before turning on his heel and exiting the room. He will join you later, as much as he wants to lay beside you now, he’d like to get settled back in, first.

⎯ Dan Heng

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Dan Heng tends to retreat into himself, a lot. Ever since he revisited the Xianzhou, this has become a habit of his. He doesn’t exactly push you away, but his ‘time to think’ seems to overtake your guys’ alone time. Regardless of it all, he always comes back to you, finding home safe in your arms.

He wakes in the dead of night, his past life’s memories catching up to him once more. He doesn’t cry or scream, his breath is shallow, as he listens to the silence of the hotel you two were staying at. He stills for a moment, the scars of the past fading into a blissful nothingness, before he looks down at you. Sleeping peacefully, completely unbothered by Dan Heng’s sudden awakening.

His body relaxes as his mind quiets finally, the simple sight of you reminding him that the past is the past, and nothing more matters right now. He settles back into bed, taking a moment to admire your face, hesitantly reaching out. His fingers brush against your cheek, trailing to your hairline, tucking a strand behind your ear. You don’t even flinch, but you instinctively curl up closer to him. Dan Heng graces your sleeping form with a rare smile and a huff, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer.

⎯ Gepard

EROS ; ROMANTIC LOVE. While Gepard may be shy about certain things, that doesn’t mean he is lacking in the romance department. His job may keep him away from you for quite a while, but he always finds his way back to you.

It had been quite a while since you and Gepard had a proper date, or even night out. Oftentimes, he’d come home late into the night, too exhausted to even eat, and all he would want to do is cuddle up next to you in bed. He loves his job, he truly does, even if it means coming home at near 2 am and waking up at 5 am. Of course he wants to spend as much time with you, but some days are harder than others, and he wants to stay as healthy as he can.

Tonight, however, he’s come home early. At 6 pm to be exact. A completely normal time to get off work… if he wasn’t the captain of the Silvermane Guards. Before you can even ask why he’s home so early, he hurriedly asks you out on a date. His face is only slightly flushed, and the minute you say yes, he lights up like the sun peeking through the clouds on a rainy day. He takes you out to one of the nicest, fanciest restaurants in Belobog, and he just cannot contain the giddy smile all throughout the night. He stares at you as if you are straight out of a movie, eyes practically shining everytime you laugh.

⎯ Caelus

LUDUS ; PLAYFUL LOVE. Caelus doesn’t take himself too seriously, even if there’s a stellaron housed inside of him. So why take love too seriously…? Not that he doesn’t love you, no, he adores you. But between all this trailblazing and saving planets and researching stellarons and what not, he doesn’t get much of a chance to be a little silly. And you, luckily, are his escape from that.

He barges into your room with the brightest smile known to man, his hair a little messy, and what you can only hope is soot dusting his cheeks and hands. Caelus looks so proud. Too proud. In his hands he holds what looks to be a worn out raccoon plushie, also blessed with a heavy dusting of soot. You stare at him blankly as he does not explain himself, simply waltzing over to your bed.

“Our son.” He states, so proudly, as if he had brought the thing into the world on his own. Desperately in need of some fun today, you play along, telling him ‘our son needs a bath.’ And Caelus looks at you as if you have offended his entire lineage (which, apparently, is two people now.) He jokingly chastises you for calling your son ‘dirty’, and “How could you say that to him!?” “He’s just a baby!”. Though, eventually after hours and hours of him threatening to put his sooty hands all over you, he washes the stuffed raccoon. And himself.

⎯ Welt

PRAGMA ; ENDURING LOVE. Welt has seen lifetimes pass, and lifetimes more come into the universe. He’s vowed to himself to love whoever comes into his life as long as he loves, to love hard and never back down. He dreams of church bells ringing while the scent of roses fill the air, rather than the mournful gong of those ringing bells, signaling someone's end, or the bittersweet smell of lilies.

He holds you closely tonight, practically bathing in your cologne, eyes closed as he hums a tune from some far off timeline. It is a quiet, tender moment, one that is very rare between the two of you. Welt could spend all his time on the Astral Express and still never have enough time for you. He is greedy in that way, seeking any time he can with you, even if it is only for 5 minutes.

He himself doesn’t know why he’s feel especially wanting tonight, but he doesn’t busy his mind asking himself why. Time and space is infinite even as constricting as it feels, and he knows better than to keep himself occupied with such silly questions. The day he catches himself not missing you, yearning for you, is the day that he will wither into stardust.

#⁺◟freyito #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #aventurine x reader #dr ratio x reader #boothill x reader #gallagher x reader #sunday x reader #argenti x reader #sampo x reader #jing yuan x reader #blade x reader #luocha x reader #dan heng x reader #gepard x reader #caelus x reader #welt x reader #welt yang x reader #veritas ratio x reader

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neil-gaiman · 2 days

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Hello, Mr.Gaiman. Nice to meet you

I have been influenced by you since I was a kid (I am in my twenties), from Coraline, to Good Omens, to Sandman, to the Graveyard book and many other stories. The amount of works you have created in your life is astonishing, and you're a reference figure to me in terms of making the best use of my life while I am here. I have been writing stories since I learned how to hold a pencil, and hope to keep doing so until I no longer can.

This year I finally managed the funding and the time to watch your course on masterclass. I am happy to say I have finished it and am now your student, even though we never met. I go back to your words as a mentor and they give me strenght. It is so powerful. It works like witchery when I doubt myself. I am afraid you put a little spell on your words, and that you know this, and will be satisfied to know it works. I call you out on your sorcery.

But well. The thing is. When I was a child, I always thought Coraline was a little dumb for going back to fight the other mother. Why would I, a child, go somewhere I know it's dangerous, to try to overpower an adult that means to harm me, with no certainty of aces up my sleeve? How would I even keep my cool and make sure I don't doubt myself and fawn over the monster to ensure my survival? How would I not freeze? The thought "I am not capable" was plastered all over my head when I was a kid.

As a child, bad things happened to me. I may have been battling depression from since then, and I doubted I could make it to adulthood. I coped by shrinking myself as much as possible. Not daring to do anything. I couldn't understand coraline. I hated her.

I forgot about that as I grew up. Yet, on your masterclass, I got to know what truth you wanted to tell with the story I couldn't understand:

"Being brave doesn't mean you're not scared. It means you're scared and do it anyway."

Currently, I take medication to lighten my anxiety and depression. It helps, but what works the most is staying consistent in things I care about and that ensure my autonomy, even when I feel like shrinking again. I am now able to understand coraline. With my adult eyes, it's not a story that makes me feel resentful, anymore. I can see and think, I too and scared. I too wish things were easier. But it's ok for reality to be grey and boring, my mind and my attitude can die it colorful. It's scary, it takes work, I may feel like it doesn't matter sometimes, I may feel like never solving anything and keeping stuck is better than taking that shaky step forward. But I step forward. And I do it anyway.

That's all. Thanks for giving me the time of your day.

Thank you for writing that. It helped.

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rikstar · 2 days

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˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Paper hearts ! NSH.R

Synopsis ୨୧ In which you've kept receiving Paper hearts in your locker with little messages written on it by a Person who goes by "R". Little did you know that they're from the Japanese Transfer student who always sits in the back of your class , keeping to himself.

Contains ୨୧ Highschool!Au, Riki can't express his emotions well, Reader is imagined to be shorter than him and dressing hyperfeminine, Family issues Crying , Romance , kissing

Wc ୨୧ 4.1k

(A/n) : not proofread so there will be grammatical errors. Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated 💗

"Another one?", you quietly mumbled under your breath — a pink heart shaped piece of paper falling out of your locker as you opened it. You crouched to pick it up , turning it around and smiling softly to yourself as you read the message.

"Remember to drink some water today , make sure to eat some good food as well. Stay healthy - R"

In the beginning , when this all started , you felt a little creeped out — yes , the messages were cute but they were also implying that this person was watching you. They could be some creepy stalker , but they could also be someone who was just genuinely too shy to talk to you , so you just kept your guard up. It's been around 5 Months since you've started to receive those paper hearts , mostly having a message written on them and sometimes they were just empty — it's something small , but it was something you grew to look forward to. But who was this Person?

With a smile tugged on your lips , you put the paper hearts into the front pocket of your bag , making sure they won't get demolished before you took your books out of the locker and closing it. A small gasp escaped your lips as you turned around , being met by a chest right in front of your face as you almost bumped into them — looking up to see a pair of cold dark eyes staring into your soul , a shiver running down your spine. "Sorry...", you mumbled slightly embarrassed , a hum coming from them as you stepped to the side and let them access to their own locker.

You eyed him with a puzzled look before shaking your head and quickly making your way to your classroom. Nishimura Riki , he was like a riddle for you — he never talked to anyone in your class , he was quiet and kept to himself , he always had that intense glare in his eyes as if he doesn't want anyone to approach him. The only people he'd talk to were Taki and Maki — Taki from your parallel class and Maki who was a year under you. You couldn't read him at all , he was just so.... mysterious and intimidating.

You quietly greeted your classmates with a smile as you stepped into your classroom ,some of your classmates already being there as you made your way to your seat in the front — the bows in your hair bouncing with each step you took followed by the sounds of the keychains on your bag jingling. Riki soon followed after you , his headphones around his neck — putting them back on without uttering a word as your classmates greeted him to which he just nodded before plopping down on his seat in the back by the window. It was like , as if he wasn't even there.

"You're not going to eat lunch with us? But we have an one hour break! You'll have enough time to study after eating something", your friend tried to persuade you , her hand resting on your arm but you shook your head with a small smile. "I'll eat plenty after school , I really need to study for this upcoming exam so I should use my free time to do so", your friend just sighed at your response , her hand sliding off your arm. "Alright... but if you do choose to eat something , you know where to find us".

The library was quiet and almost empty as you entered it , looking around a little to find a spot and you swore you saw a familiar tuff of hair in the corner — black hair that appeared blue when the sun shone down on it , but you quickly shook your head, why would Riki be in here? He never really studied for the exams yet always aced them without much effort. You went to your signature spot and immediately started to study for the upcoming exam , being so focused that you failed to notice a pair of eyes watching you.

His eyes were intensively staring at you , his hand lifting the manga he was reading a little more up to make it seem like he was reading when he was actually busy staring at you. He felt like a creep , but you were just so pretty in his eyes , like a piece of art that pulled him into a trance. A small smile tugged on the corners of his lips as he watched the way your eyebrows furrowed , chewing on your pen as you tried to study all by yourself — that smile turned into a sad one , you always worked so hard , too hard. He wished he had he courage to approach you , but it always felt like as if he was losing the ability to speak or form proper sentences whenever you stood in front of him , just like this morning. A small sigh left his lips , pondering about what to do before he reached into his bag , a pink piece of paper in his hand — tearing it into a heart shape before he got his pen out and started to write something down.

He looked up one last time , making sure you weren't seeing him before he quickly disappeared into the hallways. His feet carried him to the snack machine with long struts , looking at all the different snacks to see what you might like and praying that he made the right pick — pressing the number and inserting coins into the coin slot , bending down to reach into the compartment and taking out the bar of chocolate. He would have done his usual routine , walking to the lockers , pretend to be on his own locker that was conveniently right above yours and secretly slipping the paper heart into your locker — but since the chocolate bar was too big for the slot , he opted to putting the note with the chocolate bar on your desk. Luckily , no one was in the classroom so no one will ever find out that it was him — quickly walking out of the classroom and going to look for his friends.

"Hm? Another one?", you mumbled as you saw the familiar paper heart on your desk, this time , with a chocolate bar — just what you needed. You gently picked up the note , your heart swelling as you read the message.

"I don't want to see you skipping lunch again , it's important to eat. Please stay healthy and also make sure to drink enough today :( - R"

Your curiosity only grew as you wanted to know who this person was , a small smile growing on your face as you sat down and unpacked the chocolate bar , letting the sweet treat melt on your taste buds as you chewed on it. Unbeknownst to you, Riki was looking at you through the open door as he walked past the classroom with Taki and Maki , a faint smile visible on his face.

You shivered as you sat on the swing on the empty playground, the moon shining down on you in the cold night — cursing to yourself for not bringing a jacket with you. Another fight with your parents and obviously , it was school related , like always — your parents only seemed to care about your grades , nothing else. Not knowing what to do after the fight , you just escaped even though you knew that you'd get another earful for going out late at night , but you didn't care as long as you got a little bit of freedom.

Your eyes were just looking ahead of you, spacing out as you enjoyed the night — until someone appeared in front of you , waving their hand in front of your face. You quickly snapped out of it , your eyes trailing up until you were met with their face , Riki? The two of you stared at each other until Riki awkwardly cleared his throat , looking to the side to find anything he could look at while his hands were nonchalantly tugged in his pockets. "So uhm.... what are you doing here at this time?", Riki mumbled , his voice so quiet that you almost didn't hear him. "Just enjoying the night..", you replied with a small smile , this was the first time he was actually talking with you. "Doesn't seem like that , something is bothering you", his reply surprised you , were you that obvious? The sand underneath Riki's feet made faint sounds as he walked over to the other swing , sitting down on it with his feet on the sand while yours were dangling a little above it.

"Why are you even out so late? It's almost 11pm", your voice was soft as you asked him, titling your head a little to look at him while your hands were holding onto the cold chains of the swing. "I got hungry and wanted a little snack , but don't switch topics", Riki replied , shaking the pocket of his jacket a little and you could hear the sound of plastic rustling. His eyes were intensively staring at you , sending shivers down your spine as they were almost piercing through you. "It's nothing much , really. My parents just bothered me again because of my grades", you gaze was fixated down to the sand , mindlessly leaning your foot down and drawing little patterns in the sand. "Your grades? But they're literally just straight A's ? Is that why you're always studying during lunch break?", he knew? You looked back up to him with a puzzled expression , his face emotionless until he realized his slip up and coughed a little. "Well I mean, I never see you during lunch break so I just guessed..", his voice trailed off a little , his gaze moving away from yours.

"But seriously , your grades are practically perfect", upon hearing his reply , you just sighed and shook your head. "Apparently not good enough", you could hear him muttering "ridiculous" under his breath , the sound of a plastic bag being opened rang in your ears , said plastic bag being held out to you with a small shake. "Want some?"

"Sure , thank you"

Ever since then , Riki started to talk more with you ,sometimes even keeping you company while you were studying during lunch break since in his words "it must be lonely to study all alone while everyone is eating". You've learned to realize that Riki wasn't like you thought , he just couldn't express himself well — he wasn't cold or emotionless , he liked to keep to himself because of shit that happened back when he was younger and blindly trusting people , he liked to play basketball and soccer , he held a strong affection towards cats and liked to microwave his strawberries. He was strange but in an endearing way.

"Don't you think that you've studied enough? You need to eat at least something", Riki asked as he had his chopsticks in his mouth , nudging his head a little towards your text book, sitting across from you. "It's fine , I'm not really hu—", as if on cue , your stomach grumbled making the two of you stare at each other in silence until he let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head a little as he slid his bento box in the middle. He picked up a small rice ball with his chopsticks , his other hand cupped underneath in case the rice ball would slip between the two sticks and drop down as he guided it towards you. "Open your mouth", he mumbled , the rice ball right in front of your mouth , your lips parting as you leaned your head a little forward and took the rice ball into your mouth — and god did it taste good.

"My mom makes the best food", he grinned slightly , watching as you did your little happy dance while eating the ball of rice while humming to yourself. "It really does taste good ..", You replied , your eyes gazing at this bento box, seeing him moving the bento box closer to you and holding his chopsticks out. "Have the rest of it , I don't really eat much", you gave him a bright smile followed by a small thank you , grabbing his chopsticks and digging into bento box. He watched you a little , his chin resting on the palm of his face before he looked away , a small blush spreading through his cheeks — you looked so adorable doing your little happy dance while eating and you ate from his chopsticks, his chopsticks that he previously had in his mouth making it an indirect kiss. An indirect kiss... Riki smiled a little to himself , internally kicking his feet and twirling his hair.

"Tell your mom that she's a good cook , I'm so full now", you patted your belly a little , your belly now filled and happy with the delicious food Riki let you eat — a small chuckled coming from Riki as he nodded and hummed before the bell rang. "Let's go", Riki nudged his head a little , signaling for you to grab your stuff as he stood up.

"Wait , I need to go to my locker", Riki stopped in his tracks , turning his body a little to watch as you opened your lockers , his heart fluttering when he saw the smile spreading on your face as you spotted the note he left while he was gone "using the toilet" but he was actually writing and slipping another note in your locker — where his notes really making you that happy?

"I'm proud of you..", you muttered under your breath as you read the note , your heart getting warmer — if only your parents would say the same to you. You quickly slipped the note into your pocket to keep it secure , putting your text books into the locker before the two of you went back to class.

Your hands were shaking as you received your test back , your parents are going to be so mad at you. You felt the tears starting to well up in your eyes , sure , a C+ was a dream for others but for you , it would mean hell. Riki observed you from the back , his eyebrows a little furrowed in worry as he saw the way your hands were shaking and how you put the piece of paper on your table in a defeated way. He could see the fat "C+" written on your paper , wasn't that good? But from what you told him , your parents were really strict when it came to academics, but he didn't know that they were so strict that it left you trembling like that.

How he wished he could just hug you , but he didn't had the courage to do so. The teacher momentarily left the classroom to copy something , she'd be back in 15 minutes considering the printer was all the way on the other side — his feet carrying him over to you. His hand came in contact with your shoulder , hesitantly rubbing your shoulder gently as he crouched down next to your seat so he could see your face. Your hair was covering your face a little , his hand moving without thinking as he tucked the strands of hair behind your ear. "Please don't cry.. it's going to be okay", Riki mumbled , your eyes widening a little as his thumb rubbed against your cheek, wiping away the tears that started to roll down your cheek without you realizing. "They're going to be so mad..", you whispered , closing your eyes to stop yourself from crying while Riki gently wiped your tears away. "Do you.. want to go to my place after school? So you can be a little distracted ..?", Riki offered , your breath hitching a little by his offer. Honestly , it sounded nice but your parents might get even more mad if you don't go back home after school immediately.

"Do you think they'll buy the lie?", You asked with a small sigh , feeling bad about lying to your parents but you really needed that distraction before all hell would break down on you — lying to your parents that you'd be going to the library to study more. "Of course they will , don't worry too much", Riki replied , glancing down at you , his arm bend back over his shoulder ,the strap of his bag hanging off his hand as his bag occasionally bumped against his back. His house wasn't far from the school , already reaching his home after 10 minutes — this was the first time you'd be at his place or even hanging out after school , realizing that his house was right across the playground.

He unlocked the door and held it open for you , stepping in after you and taking his shoes off as he loudly talked in his mother tongue — right , you forgot that he was Japanese. You followed after him and greeted his mother who was sitting on the couch with two other girls , greeting them as well with a shy smile before following Riki to his room. His room was surprisingly clean , there were a couple skateboards hung on his white wall, some posters off basketball players hanging on his wall , his bed was right by the window and pretty huge. He also had a gaming pc on his desk , a couch in front of the end of his bed and a TV hanging on his wall.

"Feel free to sit wherever you want", Riki said as he saw you looking around his room , seemingly looking calm but he felt like as if his heart was about to burst right out of his chest. "Okay..", you set your bag down and moved to sit on his bed , jumping a little as something popped up from the couch , a dog? The dog was curiously looking at you , it's tail wagging behind it as it was standing up on the couch with its front paws on the edge of it. "Ah , there you are Bisco", Riki walked over to the couch , picking Bisco up and setting the small dog down on the bed. The dog sniffed you a little before licking your hand which made you giggle. "Is it a girl or a boy?", You asked with a soft smile on your face as you gently pat the dog , looking up to see Riki just staring with a puzzled look. "ehh yeaaah let me ask my mom real quick", his reply made you giggle , he didn't know what gender his dog was? "I think a girl.... or a boy? Or was Bisco a girl..?", Riki mumbled a little before shaking his head. "Doesn't matter , Bisco is Bisco".

The next hours went by so quickly that it felt like as if only 10 minutes passed by the time it was 7pm, you wished you could stop the time. You didn't want to go back home yet but you knew that you needed. "You know ... you can call me if anything happens , i'm here for you", Riki said as he looked down to you , running a hand through his hair as stood by the door to his goodbyes to you. "I know , thank you. Also , thank you for inviting me over and distracting me", you smiled at him , your smile so pretty to him that he was almost swept away , mumbling a quiet "No problem".

His eyebrow twitched as he glared at the front , his glare so piercing that it could kill. "What the actual fuck" was what Riki thought as he watched that Ricky dude talking to you , pretending that he was the one slipping the heart shaped notes into your locker. What a scam. If he could , he would just go over to you and tell you that it was him and not Ricky — but he couldn't , he didn't had the courage to. Why was he such a wimp? He grumbled to himself a little , finally having enough when he saw that Ricky was about to your arm as he walked over to you. "Sorry , gotta steal her for second", Riki grumbled , taking your hand and dragging you away from Ricky. "Is something wrong?", You asked Riki , he never acted like that , worried that you did something wrong.

"It's nothing , I just feel icky with him around you. He's bad news", You titled your head a little at his reasoning , shaking your head with a small giggle. "Don't be silly , he was the one writing those sweet notes to me. He can't be bad news", Riki let out a harsh sigh , feeling a little frustrated. "No , he's not the one. I saw who put the notes in your locker and it certainly was not Ricky". "What? Then why have you never told me?". "Because they want to keep their identity hidden until they're ready to reveal themself to you", you nodded at his words a little , glancing back to Ricky with an unsure look. Why would he lie to you like that?

"Alright , thanks for telling me", you looked up to him , a small smile on your face before you froze slightly — Riki stepped closer to you , his hands reaching to your head as he fixed your ribbons. "Your Ribbons were getting loose".

Riki finally made his mind up , he clearly was having some competition with this guy — he decided to put his big boy pants on and finally reveal himself and confess to you. He quickly reached into his bag , tearing another pink note into a heart shape and quickly writing something down before secretly slipping it into your locker as he was pretending to do something on his own.

His heart was pounding as he did that , he just hoped that you would come.

"Meet me by the cherry blossom tree after school :) - R"

Was it finally happening ? Where you finally going to meet the person behind all the notes? Your heart was pounding with anticipation as you got closer to the cherry blossom tree , trying to see if anyone was there yet. Pink petals of the cherry blossom tree were dancing around in the air as you finally reached it , looking around to see if anyone was coming until a hand touched your shoulder. Before you could turn around , they covered your eyes. "You came..", his voice was deep and familiar , your breath hitching slightly — was this Riki..?

It has to be Riki , no one else you knew had a voice that deep and wore the same cologne that was lingering in the air but before you could utter anther word, he shushed you. "I'm sorry for keeping this from you.. I'm not the best at expressing myself. (Y/n), i fell in love with you. You always seemed so intimidated by me so I was afraid that I'd scare you off if I had approached you just like that ; so I started to leave notes in your locker. Every compliment , every reminder , everything i've said , I mean them. Word for word. I'm sorry that I didn't had the courage to straight up tell you , I was scared that I'd fumble with my words and mess everything up", he slowly removed his hand from your eyes , letting you turn around.

Your heart was pounding as you looked up to him , your cheeks getting warmer as you saw the soft flush spreading through his cheeks, his eyes lovingly gazing down to you. "Do you mean it? What pushed you to suddenly reveal yourself to me now?", your voice was soft as you spoke , almost as soft as the soft pink petals from the cherry blossom tree. "I mean it , everything. That Ricky guy... something in me snapped when he pretended like as if he was the one behind all the notes. I guess that was the push that I needed , I was afraid that he would take you from me without giving me a chance to at least confess to you".

"You're so silly. Even if it would've been Ricky , I would've still chosen you. I'm saying that I feel the same , ever since we've been getting closer , I've realized that I was starting to fall for you as well", a soft smile grazed your lips , your words shooting cupid arrows right into his heart with the way it fluttered . "Can I ... kiss you?", his question was slightly hesitant , unsure if he was going too fast or not but he couldn't help himself , relief washing over him when you nodded.

His fingers found their way to your chin , gently titling your head up as he stepped closer and leaned his head down — your hands holding onto his arms to keep yourself balanced as sparks exploded in your belly. His lips were so soft and gentle , kissing you so softly that it was almost featherlight. Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away , his lips a little glossy from your strawberry lip gloss.

"You're the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, I will never stop leaving those notes in your locker"

506 notes · View notes

scuderiahoney · 2 days

Text

Oscar Piastri x reader // in motion part 7

summary: a hockey watch party, one last data point for the pizza theory, and one last chance at the national title. Word Count: 7.2k

warnings: alcohol/intoxication, mentions of bullying, & some very mild angst

You watch the second round of the hockey championships from the floor of Lily’s apartment, surrounded by friends and friends of friends and anyone who cares enough about hockey to be there, really. You’re in a pair of Timberwolves sweats, your jersey, a team logo beanie, and even your socks are Timberwolves blue. The apartment gets warm, eventually, but you refuse to take any of it off.

They play a good game. The other team is good too, though. You hold your breath for almost the entire third period- it’s tied, 3 to 3. Alex makes save after save. Max takes shot after shot. Nothing is working.

Then, Oscar comes out onto the ice with just a few minutes left to play. You reach behind you and grab Lily’s hand. Lando snatches the puck away from the other team and sends it off to Max. Max passes it through a gap to Oscar. Oscar takes the shot.

The puck hits the net. The goal horn goes off, and the apartment falls quiet. Everyone is holding their breath now. Nobody dares to celebrate yet.

“There’s still a minute left,” you say, like you’re not all aware of it.

The seconds tick down. They feel endless. But when the buzzer sounds, the Timberwolves are up by one. They’re headed to the semifinals. The apartment erupts into cheers, and all you can do is finally breathe. Behind you, Lily does the same, melting into the couch.

“Guess it’s time to book flights to St. Paul,” she says, when you turn to look back at her.

You take a shot of tequila with her in the kitchen, and then you get seats next to each other on a flight out to the semifinals. Your phone rings nearly immediately after that- the apartment is noisy, but it’s Max, so you answer anyways.

“Bunny!” He yells. “We fucking did it!”

“I know!” You say back, feeling nearly as giddy as he must be. “Holy shit, Max!”

“I know,” he says back. You think he might be crying. “You’re gonna come, right?”

“Booked our flights already.”

Lando’s the next one on the line, and it’s pretty much a repeat of the same conversation. It continues. At one point, Alex is talking to both you and Lily on separate calls. You hope someone snaps a picture of him with two phones to his ears. The call lasts through their bus ride back to the hotel, and you want to ask for Oscar but you can’t, really, not when-

“Hi?” Oscar says, voice slightly confused. “Someone handed me the phone, I’ve got no idea what-“

“Osc,” you say, softly.

“Bunny,” he whispers, and the tone of voice makes you melt. “Hi.”

“Good job,” you say. “That goal…”

“Fucking insane,” he says, voice cracking slightly. “I’m so happy.”

You grin. “Me too.”

“I wish you were here,” he says, quietly.

You know somewhere during the call they’ve gotten off the bus and headed inside somewhere- maybe the hotel, maybe a restaurant. You wonder if he’s snuck away to talk to you, or if he’s counting on everyone being too excited to pay attention to him. Either way, you don’t mind. It’s enough to hear his voice, to hear the warmth in it, to know that he wants to talk to you too.

“Me too,” you say. Lily’s motioning to you from across the room, holding up the bottle of tequila. You nod, and she pours you another drink. “But Lily and I just booked flights for the semifinals.”

“Really?” He says, sounding a bit awed. “You have no idea how happy that makes me.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you murmur.

“I- I’ve gotta go. We’re out for dinner, Seb’s buying, and-“

“I know,” you tell him, smiling to yourself. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have fun. Congrats.”

“Thanks, baby,” he says.

Then the line goes dead. You take your drink from Lily and take a sip. She gives you a look, a knowing smile on her face. You blink back as innocently as possible.

“You spent that whole call looking happy,” she says. “And then you got to the last five minutes and you looked lovesick.”

“Did I?” You ask.

She’s become convinced that your mystery boyfriend is someone on the team. She’s right, of course, but you’ve refused to tell her. You’d have told her tonight if they lost the game, but it’s the playoffs. You can’t do anything to mess this up for Oscar or the rest of the team. They’ve been so close the last 3 years. This is Lando and Max’s last chance. You’d do anything to see your best friends win.

“I’ll ask Alex who had the phone last,” she threatens.

“No, you won’t, because you won’t violate my trust like that.”

“Don’t call my bluff,” she groans. “Why won’t you just tell me who it is?”

You sigh. “They’re in the semifinals, Lily. I don’t want to do anything to fuck it up.”

She sighs and pouts back at you. “He’s one of the good ones, right? It’s not, like…”

“He’s amazing,” you say, both to reassure her and because it’s true. “Trust me.”

…..

“Hey,” Oscar says, nudging his foot against your ankle. “I have a question.”

It’s late, probably near midnight. It’s a Wednesday, the night before the team flies to Minnesota for the playoffs. You look up from your laptop, propped on your knees in front of you, and blink away the blurriness to look at him. He’s sitting on the other end of your couch, a mirror image, soft and cozy in the warm glow of the lamps in the living room. He’s not doing anything other than scrolling on his phone, but he’d insisted on wanting to be here tonight. To spend the night with you.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You ask. Your homework can wait. You’d much rather talk to him.

“Why does everyone call you Bunny?” He asks. “Like. I get the idea, but how did it even start?”

You blow out a breath and click save on your document. “That’s a long story.”

He shrugs and sinks further down on the couch, leaning against the arm of it. His calf slots between yours, warm and comforting and there. The two of you have been busy the past few days, weeks even, with end of semester work and practices and everything in between. It’s all you can do to just be there for each other. To just spend time together, even when you’re writing an essay and Oscar is trying to decipher math problems. It always feels better when you can feel him next to you.

“I’ve got time,” he says.

“It’s almost midnight,” you respond.

He shrugs again. “I’ve always got time for you.”

And. Well. There’s not much you can do to argue with that, not much you could say back. It sort of makes you melt, really. You let out a low breath and sink back against the arm of the couch, moving your laptop to the coffee table. There’s a loose thread on the blanket that lays over your knees, and you twist it around your pinky finger.

“It was, uh. One of my old teammates,” you say, focusing on the string around your skin, not wanting to look up at his face. “I went to a party with Max and Lando after I got off the crutches, and she was there, and she… yeah. Said a bunch of shit, called me a puck bunny. And back then, Max was a bit more hot tempered, and obviously he didn’t hit her but he started yelling, and then she started yelling, and then so did Lando, and we got kicked out of this party, and-“ you close your eyes, remembering the moment, when the three of you had tumbled out onto the lawn, into the cold air, and when they both turned to check on you- “it was all so absurd, so stupid, so- she was supposed to be my friend, you know? So I just started laughing. And Lando was looking at me like I was crazy, but then Max started laughing, too, and Lando dragged us both home and ordered pizza, and Charles was still up, so he heard the story. And the name stuck. Honestly, I like it. It’s a way to reclaim the insult, you know?”

You look up and find him watching you, drumming his fingers against his knee. There’s a soft, sort of sad look on his face. Your cheeks grow warm. He makes you feel so seen, in this way that feels a little overwhelming at times.

“You and Max have this thing in common,” he says. “You tell these borderline traumatic stories like they’re funny.”

You scoff. “Me getting mildly made fun of by an ex teammate is not on the same level as Max’s stories.”

Oscar blinks. “But it’s not about the level of it, right? And that was a low blow from her, after you’d lost your sport and your support system, to say that about the friends you’d made. I mean. I get that it’s funny or ridiculous, but. It’s okay if it hurts, too. It can be both.”

You stare at him for a couple seconds, a little in awe of him. Of his kindness, of how much he seems to care. You shift on the couch to crawl over to him, pressing yourself into his side and smiling when he wraps his arms around you and giggles. He sinks down onto the couch and pulls you with until you’re cuddled up together, a mess of limbs and blankets and comfort. He kisses your forehead.

“Thank you,” you say.

There’s more you could say, but you don’t think you need to. He knows you so well already.

“Anytime,” he says. “I mean it.”

Before he leaves the next morning, he digs through his backpack in your living room, brows furrowed. “Swear it’s- aha!” He exclaims, pulling something out of the depths of the bag.

He hands it to you carefully, gingerly, like he’s a little nervous. He’s smiling, though. You take the brochure, eyes widening when you see what’s written across the top.

“No pressure,” he says, so quiet and soft. “You said you wanted to find a connection to soccer again, and I saw this, and…” he shrugs. “Thought of you. We can talk about it if you want, or not at all, or-“

You interrupt him, because you think he might be on the verge of rambling a bit. You stare down at the brochure in your hand and smile. “Thanks, Osc. This means the world to me, you know that? You mean the world to me.”

His face breaks out into a warm grin, and you can’t help but kiss him. He smiles into it, the way he always does when you first press your lips to his. Like he can’t quite believe it. You know the feeling.

He’s off to Minnesota in just a couple hours. You’ll be on your way shortly after that. You slip the brochure into your already packed carry on with a warm feeling in your chest.

…..

The guys fly out together, but you and Lily head there separately. The hotel you’ve booked is near the rink, just to make things easier. Max is the one to get you both set up with tickets to the game, since he’s the captain, so they’re relatively good seats, with a good view. By the time the game day rolls around, you feel like you’re about to vibrate out of your skin. Lily seems to be the same. You have a little pregame in your hotel room, just to take the edge off, really.

The arena is cold, like most of them are. It feels strange. You’re so used to the home rink that this one feels new and weird and sort of wrong. You file down to your seats and try your best to take it in. You look down at the ice, where in just a little bit, your friends will be playing their hearts out. Your boyfriend will be playing his heart out. You feel nauseous, suddenly.

Lily grabs your arm and squeezes softly. “Your stomach?” You nod, and she smiles sympathetically. “Yeah. That’s normal. I get it every big game Alex plays in.”

You frown. “I’ve watched so many games, though.”

“It’s different when it’s someone you… care about.” She says.

Her suggestion for a cure to the nausea is soft pretzels, so the two of you make friends with your seat neighbors, leave your jackets there, and head off in search of warm bread. It doesn’t take long to find it. You take small bites of the pretzel as you wander the arena. They’re selling merch- jerseys and beanies and anything else you could imagine. Both of you stop to buy something, wanting to remember this. Lily picks up a t-shirt for Alex. You buy a beanie for yourself and a baseball cap for Oscar. She studies you carefully, but she doesn’t ask any questions.

You stop her just before you get out to the rink again, in the walkway to the seats. “You know who it is, don’t you?”

She laughs and reaches for your arm again, squeezing. “Babe, it’s not hard to figure out. But what you said at the apartment, after the last game- it’s the playoffs. If you’re superstitious about it… I can wait to confirm.”

You take a breath and nod. “Okay.”

“But as soon as this is done, I’m kidnapping you and making you tell me everything,” she says. She squeezes your arm again. “Also, I’m very happy for you.”

You melt. “Thanks, Lily.”

The two of you get back to your seats just before they take to the ice for warmups. You catch yourself holding your breath as you watch Oscar skate loops and patterns around the rink. He goes through his normal warmup routine, he chats with Max and Charles along the way, and then he takes a second, spinning slowly on the ice and looking up at the crowd. You wave when he faces you. You don’t expect him to see it, but then he waves back, and your heart stutters in your chest. Lily’s not looking, too focused on Alex. You let the moment take a little weight off your shoulders.

The team hasn’t made it to the semifinals since you became friends with them. There’s something strange about this atmosphere. There’s so much resting on the game. You feel like you can’t quite relax, and maybe you won’t be able to for the whole thing. Then the puck drops, and Max takes it down the ice, and they score within the first two minutes, and you start to wonder if you ever had anything to worry about.

They win, easy and beautifully, and keep a solid two goal lead on the other team the whole time. They’re through to the finals. You and Lily hug each other in the stands, and you think she’s crying. You think you are too. Oscar’s down on the ice, hugging his teammates. Max stands in the middle of it, talking it all in. Lando bumps into him, grinning. Your boys. They look so proud. You’ve never been more proud.

You tell them as much when you find them after the game. They don’t have a lot of time- Seb’s set a strict hotel curfew, and you probably won’t see much of them until after the last game.

Lando pulls you into a hug in the parking lot of the rink, his face pressed against your shoulder. “One more game,” he says, quietly, and your heart breaks.

“One more,” you say, as Max comes up and hugs your other side. “So we make it count, yeah?”

Lando’s done after the finals game. It’s the last of competitive hockey for him. Max will be off to another team, hopefully, but he’ll be a rookie instead of a team captain. This last game will hold so much weight for both of them. They’re tired and nervous and you can feel it seeping out of them.

“How about I sneak you guys some pizza?” You suggest, and Lando pulls away, face lit up. “Not exactly on the meal plan, but…”

Max pulls back with a grin. “One last data point for the pizza theory.”

“Yeah,” you agree, ruffling his hair before smoothing it off his forehead. You do the same to Lando. “I’m so proud of you two, you know that?”

Any other day, they’d tease you for being cheesy. They’d roll their eyes and duck their heads and do anything to get you to stop. But today, Lando pushes his head against your head, a bit like a cat, and Max smiles, all squinty eyes. You smile, too.

Behind them, Oscar’s leaning on a barricade, talking to Alex and Lily. You want nothing more than to run over and kiss him, but the playoffs aren’t done yet. He smiles softly at you, and you smile back.

You order the pizza to your hotel and then walk it over to theirs, because Seb would definitely not approve and he’s more likely to catch the pizza delivery guy. Max lets you know that they’re hanging out in one of the conference rooms, and gives you directions on how to get there. The boxes are heavy in your arms- Lily had offered to come with, but two of you together would be even more suspicious.

They’re having some sort of movie night- a way to wind down and celebrate before practice tomorrow and the final game the day after that. You knock on the door lightly and hold your breath. Someone shuffles behind the door and then opens it.

It’s Charles. He grins, widely, and doesn’t even make a comment when you peer over his shoulder. They’re watching something with racecars on a giant projector screen. You hand over the boxes.

“Hi,” Charles whispers. “Thank you for the pizza.”

“Of course,” you whisper back. You know you won’t be invited in- the superstitions are running high, now. “I’m proud of you, you know.”

Charles grins. “Thanks. We will see you soon, yes? Oh, and- you should take the stairs down.”

You blink at him, but you figure he’s just worried about you getting caught by one of the coaches. You nod. “Okay. Tell everyone I said good luck, yeah?”

He nods, and then he shuts the door.

You head off for the stairwell at the end of the hall, figuring it’s better to play it safe than sorry. You nearly jump out of your skin when someone clears their throat when you open the door. You come face to face with your boyfriend, and you can’t help the smile that washes over your face. You understand the direction to take the stairs now.

“Osc,” you murmur, stepping closer. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says, all pink cheeked and smiley. “You got my message, huh?”

You nod. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Charles knows.”

Oscar nods. “I can’t stay long. They’ll get suspicious eventually, and… you know. But I wanted to see you.”

You smile and cup his face in both of your hands. He grins into the kiss when you press your lips to his. His hands fall to your hips, warm and broad, holding onto you to keep you both steady.

“You’re going to the finals,” you tell him, pinching one of his cheeks as you pull away. “I’m so proud of you, baby.”

He blushes even more at that, eyelids fluttering closed. “Just one more game.”

“One more game,” you agree.

Your heart twists in your chest. You wonder if he’s feeling what Max and Lando are feeling too, though maybe to a lesser extent. Last game with this team. One last time on the ice. Do anything to make it count. You hadn’t known your last game would be the last game. Oscar has a whole season left after this one, but it still must sting, you know it.

You kiss his cheek. “Go hang out with your teammates. One more game. I got you guys extra breadsticks, but if you don’t get there quick Carlos will definitely eat them all.”

Oscar sighs, rolls his eyes, and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, baby. I’ll see you soon.”

He disappears into the hallway without a trace. You find that you miss him nearly immediately.

…..

When they take to the ice for the last game- of the playoffs, of the season, of their time as a team, as this team- they don’t look nervous. You can feel the nerves in every inch of your body, every hair standing up straight, every muscle tensed. You’re shivering, but not from the chill in the arena. They look calm, cool, and collected. You suppose that’s a good sign.

Lily grips your hand tighter than ever as you wait. Every second ticks by so, so slowly- the anthem, the announcements, the pre game warm ups. You swear you’re going to have a heart attack. Oscar’s down on the ice, running his typical warm up drill, the one you know all too well. Skate from one side to the other. Shoot 3 pucks. Skate back to the other side. Find Charles, who’s waiting. Fist bump. Helmet pat from Max. Deep breath. Shoulder shake. Okay, here we go.

You hold your breath through the entire first period. No goals. You swear you can see the sweat dripping from Alex’s brow in the goalie box, even from up in the stands. Lily’s taken to gripping onto the armrest now, after she squeezed your hand a little too hard and you yelped. You’re leaning forward, elbows on your knees, chin in your hands. Neither of you move during the period break.

They come back out onto the ice raring to go, ready as ever. The other team has two near goals. Max snatches the puck, finds a gap, takes off down the ice, and- he scores. You can’t even scream- it’s more of a sigh of relief, really. Next to you, Lily’s on her feet. You follow suit.

The other team follows it up with a goal of their own five minutes later. Lily winces when Alex hangs his head. You watch Oscar skate over to him, giving him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He’s come so far, really, from staying by himself at practices to this. It warms your heart.

You grab Lily’s hand and squeeze. “It’s okay,” you say, deciding to be sure of it. “This is it. They’ve got this.”

When the final buzzer rings out through the arena, you’re still holding her hand, fingers knitted together. You think she might be crying. You’re pretty sure you’re crying too. Nobody would blame you, really. There’s loud music playing, confetti flying through the air, and down on the ice-

A sea of blue jerseys, blue sweatshirts, Timberwolf blue, everywhere. Max is already holding the trophy, high above his head as he ping pongs back and forth between his teammates on the ice. They did it. You knew they would, but they really did. The Timberwolves are the national champions. Your heart is pounding in your chest.

By the time the two of you get your legs to work and make your way down to the ice, they’re already clearing the team off of it. They’re headed for the locker room, wide grins on their faces, yelling back and forth. Max is the first to spot you, followed by Lando- they’re sweaty and gross but you try not to make a face when they wrap you up in hugs- ones that are frankly uncomfortable with all their pads on.

“Bunny!” Max yells, basically in your ear. You’re searching the crowd over his shoulder, watching for Oscar. “We did it!”

You pull back and ruffle his hair, grimacing at the sweat. “I knew you would.”

Lando grins and knocks his shoulder against yours. “Yeah. Always been our biggest believer, huh?”

Your chest warms and tightens. You feel like you could cry again, but you’re smiling so, so wide. Oscar’s nowhere to be seen. He probably has no idea you’re even down here.

“We’re going to change,” Lando says. “And then we’ll see you at the bar down the street?”

You nod, sure your eyes are shiny. “Yeah, sounds like a plan. Time to celebrate.”

“One more time,” Max says. Lando nods.

“One more time,” you agree.

Lily finds you seconds later and tells you she got the same message from Alex. When you see Charles on your way out, you stop, tugging on his wrist.

“I couldn’t find him,” you say, hating how pained your voice sounds, how obvious it all feels. Charles smiles. “Can you tell him…”

“I’ll tell him you were looking and that you’ll meet us at the bar,” he agrees.

“Okay,” you nod. “Proud of you, Charlie.”

He grins and wraps you up in a quick hug. “Merci, lapine.”

…..

After a quick stop back at your hotel room to change and freshen up, you find them in the bar, nerves coursing through your veins. They’re easy to spot, decked out in playoff and Timberwolves gear. The song that’s playing is loud in your ears, but not loud enough to drown out your racing heart. Lily squeals and drops your hand when she spots Alex, taking off across the bar to get to him.

Oscar’s in the middle of the sea of people. He has a drink in one hand, and his other arm around Charles’ shoulders. Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him. His hair’s a half dried mess, his cheeks are flushed, and there’s a wide smile on his lips. He’s a national champion. Your national champion.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and it pulls you in like the tide. You cross the room, and he drops his arm from around Charles. If you’d been paying attention, you’d have heard Max yell your name, or seen Charles hold Lando back with an arm, or noticed Lily tugging on Alex’s arm to get him to look. You don’t, though. It feels like a movie, the way the whole crowd disappears. It’s just him and you. He hauls you into his arms when you get within reach, and one hand slip to hold your lower back as you wrap your arms around his neck. When his lips touch yours, the music and flashing lights fade away. All you can feel is Oscar, and the way he’s kissing you. He steals your breath away. From that very first day, when he walked into the house, bright eyed and new, to now- it’s all been leading up to this. He cradles your face in his hand and tugs at your lower lip with his teeth. You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair. And then-

You’re in a bar. Surrounded by your friends, his whole team. You’re pretty sure the coaches are here somewhere. You remember that, suddenly, when he pulls away abruptly. Your face is hot, his cheeks are red, but both of you are smiling. He’s so hot like this, oozing confidence and pride and you nearly lean in to kiss him again.

A hand appears between the two of you, and Oscar bursts into laughter. You turn and find Max and Lando standing there, looking utterly bewildered. You start to laugh, too.

“She has a boyfriend,” Lando scolds, eyes wide. “Bunny, you have a-“

Max rears his head back. “Lando, you are even more dumb than I am. He is the boyfriend.”

“Oh,” Lando says, though he’s in a bar so it’s more of a shout. “Oh! You fuckers, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Shots?” Carlos says, popping up next to Lando. He has a tray of shot glasses and limes in his hand. “Celebratory shots, anyone?”

You and Oscar both take one of the glasses eagerly, matching grins on both your faces. You cheers with each other and throw them back, reaching for lime slices at identical times, fingers brushing each other. You start to giggle again, feeling giddy. Carlos blinks around the circle at you and Oscar, and then his gaze settles on Lando.

“What is happening here?” He asks, jabbing a finger into Lando’s shoulder. “Lando, you look upset.”

“They’re dating,” Lando says, and Carlos is fighting a laugh, you can tell. “Each other. Apparently.”

“We will need more shots for this,” Carlos says, eyebrows raised. “I will be back.”

You and Oscar spend the next five minutes dodging slaps on the back and congratulatory hugs from the rest of his teammates- not on the win, but on your relationship. Carlos returns with more shots and Charles in tow. Charles, who’s got a wide grin on his face. You wince.

“I am so glad everyone finally knows,” Charles says, and both Lando and Max frown. “I’m very bad at keeping secrets, you know.”

“You knew?” Lando asks, blinking between you and Charles. “You told Charles first?”

Max reaches for a shot and throws it back as you start to explain. “He… figured it out. I didn’t tell him.”

Charles nods. “I am very perceptive.”

“But, but- we were looking for clues,” Lando whines, elbowing Max. “We had theories and evidence and— I almost bought a corkboard. And frickin’ Charles figured it out before us? And the whole time it was frickin’ Oscar?”

Max snorts and passes Lando a shot. “Mate, I think we are maybe just oblivious.”

Lando opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. He blinks at the shot glass in his hand. He holds it up and switches his gaze to your boyfriend, and then takes a deep breath.

“If you ever hurt her-“ he starts.

“Lando, we can give him the talk later,” Max interrupts. You breathe a sigh of relief. “Right now, we have a lot to celebrate.”

Lando rolls his eyes but nods. “True.”

You reach for one of the shot glasses. Everyone else follows suit, and you clink them together in the center. “To the national champions!”

“Hey, that’s us!” Lando yells giddily before he knocks the shot back.

Oscar deposits his shot glass back on the tray and pulls you under his arm. He’s not big on PDA- the kiss a few minutes prior being an adrenaline fueled exception- especially when being stared down by his team captain, your best friends. But the little bit of contact is nice. The heavy weight of his arm around you is comforting. Max turns and nods his head towards the bar.

“Alright, kids, first round of drinks is on me,” he says, grinning. “What will it be?”

He takes the orders, and Lando goes up to help him carry things. Lando gives you a hand motion, a vague sort of I’m watching you gesture. You roll your eyes. Oscar laughs. Next to you, so does Charles.

“This is all fun and games,” Charles says, pointing at Oscar, “until you have to ride back on the plane with them tomorrow. No escaping.”

Oscar pales and swallows tightly. You pat his back soothingly.

Max comes back with drinks and a grin on his face, Lando tagging along behind. It’s then that it hits you, square in the chest- their senior year, their last game, last chance, national championship. They did it. The thing they’ve been trying to do for years . Max is grinning so bright, so wide. Lando’s eyes are red rimmed like he’s been crying. They did it. You feel your own eyes start to well up.

“M’so proud of you guys,” you say, voice wobbling.

“Oh, shit,” Oscar mumbles, already rubbing your shoulder soothingly, studying your face. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“She’s only two shots in,” Max says, sounding fond. “It is early for her to be this weepy already.”

“Shut up,” you grumble. “I’m emotional.”

“We have time to be sappy later,” Max says, patting the side of your head. “Tonight, we celebrate.”

It’s nice, more than nice, really, to get to be with Oscar like this. To lean against his shoulder without fear of what anyone else is thinking. He makes you feel so bright. It’s something about the way he looks at you every time he tells a joke, already laughing, looking to see if you are too. His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide and shining. When he leans down and kisses your cheek, you feel like you’re shining, too.

You dance badly with him to the bad music in the bar. You sit on barstools together and shout to be heard over the cacophony. It doesn’t matter what you’re doing, because it’s with him. The two of you make the rounds with the rest of his team, and you tell them all congratulations on the win while they say the same about you and Oscar.

Logan grins and nudges your side. You ignore the fact that he’s far too young for this bar. “Should’ve known when you bought all that Australian food, huh?”

The truth is, you hadn’t even known then, not really. And yet, you think he might be right.

…..

Halfway through the night, you spot Max sitting in a booth in one of the corners, alone. You frown and nudge Oscar’s side, nodding your head towards the team captain. Oscar frowns, too, and shrugs. You frown deeper. He nudges your side, then, urging you towards Max. You lean up and kiss his cheek softly, giggling at the near immediate blush that rises up under his skin, and then head towards Max.

You slide into the booth across from him. He’s nursing a gin and tonic, and he gives you a smile when you sit down. It’s forced. You frown deeper still and tilt your head at him. It’s loud in the bar, but the sigh he lets out is big enough for you to hear it loud and clear.

“I’m fine,” he says, which is so obviously not true that you almost laugh. “Seriously, Bunny, go celebrate with your boyfriend.”

You’re a bit taken aback by the tone he uses, by the way he nearly trips over the word boyfriend. You blink at him. He sighs again and scrubs his hand harshly over his jaw.

“Talk to me,” you insist, knocking your glass against his lightly. “Come on, Max, you’re a national champion. You shouldn’t be pouting in the corner at your own party.”

He huffs, rolls his eyes, but his shoulders sag. “Everything is changing.”

You nod sympathetically.

“Everything,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “It’s my last game, and soon it’ll be graduation and I’ll be leaving everyone, and Lando’s not even playing hockey after this, and you don’t trust me anymore, and-“

He tried to keep rambling, but you cut him off. “Max, what?”

He sighs and rubs his hand over his face. “It’s good, you know. To see you come out of your shell. I’m glad to know that when we leave you will have other people but- I know I look like my dad but I’m not him, Bunny. You could have told me,” he says, “and I would have been happy for you. I wouldn’t have called you a puck bunny. And I-“

You feel sick, all of the sudden. He called her a puck bunny last year. He did what? Max had a heated argument with his dad before he left after the game, one you heard about from Lando and in whispers between Charles and Carlos. The stress of everything is weighing so heavy on his shoulders, but for some reason this is the straw that’s breaking the camel’s back. You reach over and grab his wrist lightly.

“Max,” you say, emphatically. “We didn’t tell you because it happened on spring break and we wanted a little time just to ourselves,” you say, quietly. “And then it was the playoffs. Nothing changes during playoffs. My boyfriend has facial hair right now and I’ve put up with it because of the playoffs.”

Max looks up at you. A little anguish melts away from his face. “That is stupid superstition,” he says.

“Tell that to your beard,” you mutter. He laughs. “Max, you may look like him, but you are your mother’s child, through and through. I know who you are. That was never what it was about,” you say, shaking your head. “I just knew how important the championship was to the team. To you. To me. I didn’t want to do anything to mess it up.”

Max sighs and shakes his head. “Your happiness is more important than some stupid trophy.”

“I am happy,” you say. He’s lit up by the soft glow of a hanging lamp, and you see him smile a bit, something lighting up in his gaze. “Happier now that I got to tell you guys, but. He makes me really happy, Max.”

The grin that breaks out across his face is contagious. “Then that’s all that matters,” he says. “That’s all we’ve wanted for you since the day we met you.”

You don’t know whether to laugh or cry or do a mixture of both. Max seems to sense it, and he reaches out to squeeze your wrist.

“Come on,” he says, nodding his head towards the bar, where Oscar is currently being interrogated by Lando. “We can be emotional later, yes? Right now, we have a championship to celebrate, and you have a boyfriend to celebrate with.”

…..

The night ends with you and Charles toting a very drunk Lando, Max, and Oscar back to your hotel. Lily had let you know ahead of time that she’d be heading back to Alex’s room with him, so yours is free. You’d much rather it was just Oscar coming back with you, but you couldn’t leave them all to Charles to watch over.

Oscar’s not a big drinker, not a heavy partier, but tonight he’s a national champion. You’d taken it easy and taken the responsibility off his shoulders. Now he’s leaning heavily against you as you walk back, his arm around your shoulders, his head knocking against yours. He’s rambling about something, words slurred. You’re nodding along like you can understand.

He stops on the sidewalk, mid sentence, even as Charles tries to corral Max and Lando out of the road. Your boyfriend turns to look at you, eyes wide and bright.

“I really like you,” he says, the clearest he’s sounded in at least an hour. “You know that, right?”

You laugh and press your hand to the side of his face. “Yeah, Osc. I really like you, too.”

He nods, reaching up to place his hand on your cheek, too. “You’re really cute. Can’t believe I get to call you my girlfriend. And I get to tell everyone now.”

You laugh and pinch his cheek. “You’re cuter.”

“Bunny!” Max yells from up ahead. “Stop eye fucking your boyfriend. You have the room key.”

You scoff. Oscar blushes. The two of you hurry down the sidewalk towards your friends.

You drag all of them up to your hotel room with you, because Max and Lando shouldn’t really be left on their own, you want to keep Oscar with you, and it would be rude to leave Charles out. They fumble into the room, full of giggles. Max flops down on one of the beds. Lando lands on the other.

“Nope,” you say, shoving at Max. “That’s my bed.”

Max grumbles but rolls over anyways, sliding onto the floor between the bed and the little balcony. You snort out a laugh. Oscar sits down on the end of your bed and grins at you, cheeks rosy. You smile right back at him.

“Hey. You two,” Lando says, voice slightly muffled by the pillow he has his face smashed against. “No sex while we’re in the room.”

“Oh my god,” both you and Oscar say at the same time. You tack on a “Shut up,” for added effect.

Charles rubs at his face sleepily. “I need to sleep.”

Everyone seems to agree with that. You crawl into bed, and Oscar follows, seemingly too sleepy to be apprehensive about it even though your friends are in the room. He leans over and kisses your forehead.

“G’night, champ,” you whisper.

“Goodnight,” he mumbles back.

“We are all champions,” Max calls out from the floor.

“Go to sleep,” Charles says with a whine.

…..

You’re the one to get all four of them up the next morning, ready with coffee and pastries from the hotel lobby to try and fend off the hangovers. You hand Oscar the hat you’d bought for him the night before, and he takes it gratefully, shoving it down on his head to cover his messy hair. There are bags under his bloodshot eyes, but he’s grinning so wide. He’s subdued this morning- they all are, nursing the hangover of the century- but he still finds a second when nobody’s looking to pull you in with a hand on your hip and press his lips to yours. It makes your heart skip a beat, and you feel a little ridiculous for it, but when you pull away his cheeks are red, and you think maybe he’s feeling it too. The pride, mixed with getting to spend moments like these together. Celebrating together, recovering together. It’s all you’ve wanted.

You corral him, Charles, Max, and Lando out of the hotel room just before their call time to get on the bus. You walk them all the way to their hotel- it’s not far. Sebastian is standing outside, a baseball cap pulled low over his own eyes, clipboard in hand. He laughs when he sees the five of you.

“Carlos said you would have them,” he says, gesturing at all of you. He has one eyebrow quirked, like he’s trying to assess exactly what’s going on. “They are lucky their teammates were nice enough to gather their luggage. And, probably, that you were there to… take care of them.”

You shrug. “I’m not running a brothel or something, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“Jesus, Bunny,” Max says with a roll of his eyes.

Seb balks. “That is not what I was saying, because that would be weird and inappropriate.”

“Forgive her,” Lando says, patting Seb’s shoulder. “She had a hell of a night.”

“She did?” Max snarks, nudging your shoulder before he follows Lando. “Do you remember what happened when she walked into the bar?”

Charles laughs, shakes his head, and gets on the bus, too. You’re left standing there with Oscar and Seb. Oscar pouts- he’s not one for PDA, especially in front of his coach, it seems- but he pulls you under his arm and dashes a soft kiss against your forehead. It’s enough, for now. It’s more than you’ve had before, really.

Seb clears his throat. “Sorry, lovebirds,” he says, pointedly looking up at the sky. “We’ve got to go.”

“Good luck with them,” you say, nudging your shoulder against Oscar’s.

He nods, making a solemn face. “If I don’t make it back, you know who to investigate first.”

You nod. “Carlos, probably.”

Oscar laughs, eyes crinkled at the edges, and then he’s stepping away onto the bus. You feel the distance in your chest already. Then you hear his teammates start to holler and whistle at him, and you laugh. They wouldn’t do it if they didn’t love him.

Seb nods goodbye as he climbs onto the bus. Then he turns back over his shoulder, voice low, as he says, “you really brought him out of his shell. Thanks.”

The door closes before you can respond. It’s okay, though- you think it’s pretty plain to see, to anyone who’s ever looked at the two of you together- Oscar’s helped you just as much.

…..

note: thank you ALL so much for sticking with me & this story. i’ve got plans for one last part, but these next few weeks are going to be a bit hectic so please bear with me! tysm for reading, hope you enjoyed!!

series taglist: @sourskywalker @ivyvlair @gwginnyweasley @annispamz @bearlul @aresriiots @ggaslyp1 @putting-it-into-parc @black-fireproofs @smilinlemon @arieslost @floralkoi @vicurious28 @likedbygaslyy @rorabelle15 @bwormie @treatallwithkindness @fandomnerd11 @adhxmoony @sakuramxchii @insunia @mindflay3r @talking-raw @colmathgames2 @assholeinatrenchcoat @saachiep81 @venusacrossthestars @v1naco @anthonylockwoodandco111 @whalebursoot-main @ellen3101 @k-pevensie28 @ninifee1802 @not-nyasa @pleasecallmeunhinged @andruuu28 @aceofwordsandarrows @dreamsarebig @secretunnels @ginsengi @yayahnaise @f1petra @lovecarsgoingvroom @lalloronaisreal @fangirl125reader @tpwkmera @booksandflowrs @elizanav @lightsoutletsgo @meko-mt @customsbyjcg-blog @bingussthirdtoe @sideboobrry11 @tsireyasgf @si1ver06 @scopeiguess

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ophelisstuff · 3 days

Note

Paige bueckers × reader who loves books.

BOOKWORM | P.B X READER

authors note : i’ve been procrastinating on this big time srry if it’s not the best.

requested by : @paqerings

summery : Paige, someone who isn’t a fan of books finds herself tolerating all because of the person she’s fallen in love with.

word count : 808.

warnings : fluff that’s it

You and Paige had met at Uconn’s library on a rainy day. You being there to check out books for fun and Paige being there to find text books because she had no other choice.

A stack of books in your hand, you walked through the isles of bookshelves — looking for anything else that caught your eye. Unaware that the odd amount of books in your hand had caught Paige’s.

“Are you really going to read all those books?” The blonde questioned, disregarding the fact you were a complete stranger. Focused on finding out why there were so many books in your hand.

“Every last one” You replied, knowing that you wouldn’t be returning to the library until the pile of books in your hand were all completed.

“That’s impossible. no human is reading that many books.” Paige shrugged, finding it unbelievable that a person would optionally spend their time buried in a book.

The blonde just couldn’t understand it. What was it about books that grabbed everyones attention but hers?

Paige hated the idea of reading a book so much, she found herself on the brink of tears when having to study.

Even daring to pay classmates or bribe friends to complete reading assignments because she’d rather be out or playing basketball for fun.

“It’s definitely possible” You muttered, confusion building as you wondered why this familiar blonde was following you around all of a sudden.

It wasn’t like you didn’t know who she was. Everyone on campus knew of Paige Bueckers and admired her athletic talents.

However, you couldn’t get over the way she just talked your ear off and walked alongside you.

Disregarding any thought of you being a stranger and talking as if you two were the closest of friends. “Have you ever read a book?”

You asked, stopping in front of the mystery section — eyes drifting from book spine to book spine for something eye catching.

“No- well yes - duh. Just not a chapter book of any sort. It’s never been my thing so i’ve never tried to”

The blonde admitted, standing beside you — watching as you became fixated on the book titles.

“Well, find the right book and when you do, get back to me” You encouraged, sending the girl a short lived smile.

Picking up a final book as you headed to the front desk in order to check out.

Leaving the blonde with curiosity and confusion as she watched you walk away. Realizing she hadn’t even gotten a chance to introduce herself — let alone ask your name.

However, the blonde decided to take your advice and find a book that suited her — determined to impress you in the future.

present day —

“Can you hurry up! I wanna know what happens to Lucy Gray!”

Paige shouted, growing impatience as she sat on the couch — holding a copy of her The Hunger Games: The Ballad of Songbirds & Snakes in her hands.

Finding herself obsessed with the Hunger Games book series — the blonde had managed to ‘read’ all three books from the series. And having you read the forth to complete it.

In all honesty, Paige still hadn’t read a full book on her own. Often times listening to the audio version of it or having you read a chapter to her daily.

The confusion for your love of books remained the same, however she’d grown to admire how fixated you were on them.

Growing use to how you always carried a book on you, reading whenever you could wherever you could.

Often times venturing to Barnes and Noble’s when you go book shopping. Her interest drifting to the lego sets while you walk the endless shelves of books.

“Give me a second! I’m finding a blanket”

You yelled back, picking up the throw blanket off of your girlfriends bed. Placing your reading glasses on your face as you walked down the hallway and to the living room.

“Finally! took you long enough” She muttered with a smile.

Throwing the blanket on Paige, you smiled laid beside her. The blondes head instantly becoming situated and comfortable on your shoulder.

“Oh whatever, hand me the book”

You joked, taking the story book out of her hand. Unaware of how a complete stranger who hated books turned into your girlfriend who tolerated certain ones.

You found solace in books, and being able to read them to your girlfriend — cuddled up on the couch brought you even more peace.

You nor Paige would trade this experience for anything else in the world. Often times expressing how you were both grateful for that interaction at the school’s library.

“Chapter eleven. Lucy Gray’s words stung but, on reflection, were well deserved.”

You began, Paige becoming silent as she listened to your soothing voice. Eager to hear the story being told.

#paige bueckers x reader #wlw #uconn wbb #paige bueckers #wlw x reader #paigebueckersheadcanons #paige x reader #paigebueckersfluff

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my-castles-crumbling · 2 days

Text

desk - @jegulus-microfic - word count: 236 - NSFW, explicit, minors DNI

James had a big problem.

Well, that was being a bit conceited.

James had a slightly-larger-than-average-but-definitely-pleasing-to-all-parties problem. And it was starting to get uncomfortable in his tight school uniform pants.

He shifted, crossing his legs a bit, trying to urge said problem to calm down.

But it was no use.

"Potter? Are you even listening?" Regulus asked, causing James to blink and desperately work to rewind his brain to the past thirty seconds.

"Erm....something about Potions ingredients?" he asked, begging the blush creeping up his cheeks to stop.

"Obviously," Regulus drawled, shooting him a scathing look. "But you need to pay attention to what ingredients!"

But he couldn't pay attention. It was impossible. Because every time he tried, his mind wandered to Regulus. Not Regulus teaching him Potions, but Regulus pinned against a wall, or Regulus on his knees, or Regulus bent over that desk, stripped bare, his arse open for James's tongue-

Oh, Merlin, he couldn't breathe.

"James!" Regulus called his name, again wrenching him from his sinful thoughts.

"Hmmm?" he asked trying not to look guilty.

You're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat," Regulus accused, his eyebrows pinching together.

"Not my fault you taste so good," James grumbled before he realized what he'd said, and they both stared at each other, tension building quickly.

"Fuck. Alright," Regulus mumbled, quickly pushing the book he was holding aside and grabbing for James's tie.

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rosesaints · 1 day

Text

game, set, match!

pairing: gojo satoru / f!reader / geto suguru rating: 18+ explicit (minors, do not interact) word count: 6.0k warnings: heavily inspired by challengers, infidelity, freaks matching each other's freaks, threesome, fingering, fem receiving!oral, feral geto and gojo, size difference, pussy eating, so much sexual tension it's crazy

SET ONE

G. Satoru: 0-0

G. Suguru: 0-0

It’s the final match of the U.S. Open.

You sit front row center at the Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, shaky hands fiddling with the hem of your white dress. You force them to still, eyeing the sparkling spectacle of a diamond ring on your finger before looking up to see a few cameras pointed at your spot on the sidelines. It makes you sit up straighter, chin held high.

Journalists have become increasingly brutal these days, especially after your marriage to Geto. There are articles upon articles that have cemented your reputation as this unbreakable, unreadable coach—you will not sacrifice that today.

When you finally spare a glance at the court, you know that this is unlike any other match you’ve seen before. Their long standing rivalry finally comes to a glaringly tense standstill as they prepare for the toss.

There, on opposite sides were two of the greatest tennis players in the world standing across from each other from opposite sides of the net, looking like they’re about to fight to the death.

The tension is palpable; you can feel it in the way the linesmen on the court stand stick straight under the blistering heat of the sun, the ball boys crouching low to the ground, ready to run for the ball at any moment like a taut string waiting to snap. The umpire presiding high above the court in his chair clears his throat. “Gojo Satoru has won the toss. Electing to serve first.”

Gojo Satoru is the best player the world has ever seen. The strongest, the most decorated by nearly every measure, a talent that this generation has never seen before, powerful, proud, confident.

There’s countless documentaries and books about his playing style, his life on the court, off the court and he holds millions of dollars worth in sponsorships, and he carries himself with the easy knowledge that there’s no one else in the tennis world who can even come close to challenging him.

(It’s the life you could’ve had.)

He sees you at the edge of his periphery, and grins at the familiarity of it all. Once again, your two boys on the court, like they’re playing for a chance with you all over again. It doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband, eyeing the destination of Gojo’s gaze. It makes him grip his racket tighter, knuckles going white.

When you found your way back to Geto all those years ago, he was already an amazing player in his own right but he was always stuck under Gojo’s shadow during his years as a junior. He had been content to take Gojo’s seconds.

But with you—Geto crept quietly and restlessly up the tennis world rankings during the past five years, deceptively and quietly taking home slams of his own underneath Gojo’s vast shadow until he became a true rival. It’s the first time that they’ve faced off in years, and you would be a liar if you said it doesn’t have your heart drumming in your chest.

Whether it’s from fear or excitement, you cannot say.

You know Geto like the palm of your hand. Geto’s opponent knows him like the other piece of his soul.

Gojo bends his knees. He knows all of Geto’s weaknesses, strengths, exactly what makes him tick. Which is why he goes for the underhand.

For a moment, the ball suspends in the air, and with a snap of his wrist, sends a red hot 160 mph serve towards Geto. His serve is short, low, fast, and wide. It whips so quickly that Geto has to scramble to meet the ball, but he receives it with just as much startling power—an intense volley begins.

A few days ago, Gojo animatedly and vividly described all the ways in which he intended to deliver a swift and decisive victory in his favor. The column of his throat had bobbed as he laughed, head falling back, as if this was nothing serious to him, something expected and guaranteed. “I plan on decimating Getou Suguru.”

You let your eyes close and exhale.

You know Geto’s more than capable of stepping to the challenge. You wouldn’t have coached him, wouldn’t have accepted his proposal, and taken his last name if you didn’t think so. But one glance—

On Gojo’s side, you make eye contact with a certain pale-haired man that’s been staring daggers at you the whole day. He looks straight through you with an intensity that would make any other person tremble. His eyes are aflame, daring and demanding you to see him.

A split second, and—you remember the way his warm breath lingered on your neck the night before, the desperate way you clawed onto his back, moaning, crooning his name as if it was the only language you knew. Gojo’s maneuvering one of your legs onto his shoulder to reach you deeper, and you’re close, getting oh-so-close, and the smug son of a bitch knows it. Licks a hot and downright filthy stripe up the shell of your ear, causing shivers to reverberate throughout your spine.

You can still feel his sharp grin on your skin, goosebumps following the trail of your thoughts.

That’s the thing about Gojo. He demands, demands, and demands, restlessly and unequivocally. It’s what initially drew you and Geto to him in the first place, a painstaking desire to become the best.

It’s an intense moment, causing you to sit ramrod straight for just a moment, until you feel another set of eyes on you. Your husband. Geto’s jaw tenses.

When it’s Geto’s turn to serve, you gaze at the strengthened profile of his back, as if renewed. He’s given two balls with ease, gripping one silently, tossing the other one back, frowning as he faces his opponent. Dribbles the ball. Gets into the position to serve. You know that frown. (You wore that frown nearly seven years ago. You were good, really good. But that was a long time ago.)

For a moment, you inhale in anticipation, as he lets the ball up in the air. It almost feels like he’s going to serve it to you.

─────── · ·

Seven years ago. Japan Open Boys Doubles Final.

“40–30.”

The sun is unforgiving at this time of the day. It’s scorching hot, and Geto feels a sheen of sweat drip down his forehead to his upper lip, then to the hard ground underneath him. If he had to guess, there were about a hundred people in the stands. To his front, Gojo’s in the receiving stance, eagerly shifting his weight between the balls of his foot in anticipation.

Under the rays of the sun, back rippling with glorious tension, fingers thrumming on the handle of his racket, he thinks that Gojo looks magnificent.

It’s the final set, and they’re at match point. Geto’s muscles ache under the strain of a long, long match and he’s ready to get this over with.

He steps up to the line and prepares to serve, and he knows that Gojo’s grinning ear to ear, crouched low to the ground. The weight of the ball is light in his fingertips. Let’s win this, he remembers his words from earlier that morning. And let’s win every damn game together after.

To everyone else watching, Geto is a beautiful player. He’s all methodical and precise strokes, he can hit a mean groundstroke, and sometimes his serves can reach 120 mph. There are dozens of colleges who have sent him offers and he reckons that he’s up in the rankings after their performance this week.

But he doesn’t even begin to hold a candle to the beauty with which Gojo plays. He’s wild and intuitive in each shot, dive, slice. There are nights when he obsessively plays back the ways that his best friend plays, and his heart aches.

Haven’t you ever wanted to be number one?

He serves the ball and watches as it soars to the other side of the net. The other doubles pair receives.

Geto is faced with the fact that Gojo is something else, simply on another level: he’s an absolute monster on the court, adaptable and innovative with his racket in ways that have never been seen before. He watches, entranced as his partner moves like a rocket, rapidly zipping the tennis balls on his side of the court, collapsing the other duo’s defenses. They’re getting tired and sloppy, and he knows the end is near.

Years of playing together have led them to a mindless, easy synchronization, in the middle of a ruthless volley. It’s so easy to get lost when it’s with Gojo. Somebody once asked the two of them during a conference after a game about how they reached this point of trust and telepathy.

Gojo had cackled then, shrugging lightly. “We’re just better at tennis.”

It’s Gojo who wins them the game with a brutal dropshot. Geto can hear their opponents’ hearts stop in their chests.

“Game, set, and match, Geto and Gojo,” The umpire reads off their victory as Gojo rushes toward him, absolutely vibrating with glee. It takes him half a second to jump into Geto’s arms, and he allows himself to breathlessly laugh and bask in what they’ve accomplished together. Above him, Gojo is cupping his face and looking at him with so much pride and adoration that it makes his heart tumble into knots.“Two sets to one, seven-one, seven-six, six-two.”

They fall to the ground together, and they come up as Japan’s Junior Boys Doubles Champions.

Geto can’t help but grin and lean into Gojo as they face the ESPN camera crew for the hundredth pose in a series of photos that will no doubt be hung on their coach’s wall. For the first time that week, the air is light and nothing is wrong or bad in the world, and they have just become winners. He knows there’s another match tomorrow, and they’ll have to face off against each other, but for now, he savors the moment.

If Gojo’s hand lingers around his waist for longer than necessary, he pays no heed to it and continues to smile for the camera.

After the blur of post-game interviews and a few quick calls to family and friends, they become lucid again at the concession stands, each with a soda nestled in their respective trophies and a hot dog on one hand. “A toast,” Gojo raises his hotdog proudly and he can’t help but join him in this silly little gesture. “To a well-fought game.”

“A well-fought game,” Geto grins for the thousandth time that day. “And to many, many more.”

That grin promptly falls when Gojo wiggles his eyebrows at him in the infuriating way that he does when he wants to get up to no good. “No.”

“I haven’t even told you yet!”

“Whatever it is,” Geto begins to rise and collect the rest of his items, Gojo following in suit, albeit with a slow childishness that has remained even after they left elementary school. “I know it’s not gonna be good.”

“Come on!” His partner pleads, voice raising an octane in a way that he thinks works on Geto. It doesn’t. “There’s this Nike clothing line party happening tonight and there’s supposed to be free alcohol—”

“You know I don’t drink.”

“There’s going to be hot people.”

“Don’t you have a girlfriend?” Geto raises an eyebrow and begins to walk back towards the outdoor courts. “And besides, I want to make sure I’m ready for our match tomorrow.”

“Seriously?” Gojo looks at him as if he’s grown an additional head, like the very concept of practicing for their match is a foreign concept. He’s not sure if the thought of that is comforting. “We play together all the time. If I throw the match, will you go?”

He acts like the mere suggestion doesn’t offend him. Gojo can take the loss tomorrow and barely drop a sweat in the rankings, but the thought of a manufactured win makes his fingers twitch.

“Absolutely not,” He shoots his friend a glare, but lightens at the way Gojo deflates. “But you should just go. Really.”

Gojo pouts. “It’s not going to be fun without you there though.”

They’re full and sated by the time they return to the same court to observe the Girls Singles final, and to Geto’s surprise, the people in the stands have seemingly doubled. It’s a task in itself to find a couple of empty spots in the bleachers, and when they do, they’re crammed in between two sets of families.

Just in time, the overhead sound system booms with the announcer’s voice, “Now entering the court, all the way from Kyoto, girls singles number eight is Utahime Iori!”

There’s a series of polite claps as a slender girl with long black hair exits the tunnel, and they watch as the girl smiles and waves to the crowd, a familiar image of the prim and proper girls they’ve encountered before at boarding school. Nothing exciting.

“I still seriously think you should go to the party,” Gojo turns away from the girl, already bored. “We can leave within twenty minutes, shake hands with a few people, sneak a couple of hard seltzers, and then we’re done!”

He shakes his head, ready to squash any of Gojo’s hopes of going to this party, when the speakers announce your arrival.

When they catch a glimpse of you for the first time, it’s as if the world suddenly spins on its axis.

You’re eighteen years old and you’re on top of the world.

You step out on the court like it’s a NYFW runway, glistening with the newest pieces from your Nike tennis clothing line, unbothered and paying no mind to the dozens of cameras that click upon seeing you with an ease that’s acquired from winning. And you win a lot. There’s murmurs that you’re the next big thing, the next Serena Williams or Billie Jean King, Japan’s own wonder child, and somehow, Geto disagrees.

No, you’re your own thing entirely. You’re going to surpass them all.

Any words that were previously on the tips of their tongues have died out. Forgetting themselves, Gojo and Geto lean forward, entranced by the sheer magnetism you exude.

And as if you could feel the weight of their gazes on you, you look up and they’re blinded by the sun. For a moment, your eyes narrow and then hyperfocus. You smile at them.

That’s when Geto knew it was over.

They’re glued to every single one of your actions from that point on, no matter how miniscule. The way you place your racket bag next to your bench, the subtle way you adjust your necklace, and—Gojo gasps—how you stretch to near impossible angles, showing off legs that ripple with muscles that have grown over time. Internally, Geto groans. “Fuck.”

When the match starts, it becomes increasingly difficult to remember that there’s one other person on the court.

You make the person on the opposite side of the court all but disappear. Your signature move, a precise and powerful slice that is sharp as steel and oh so lethal. You’re forcing Utahime to play to your rhythm, to work for it, all the while barely breaking so much of a sweat. In the back of his mind, Geto comes to a slow realization that you play like the culmination of him and Gojo, raw, unfiltered talent mixed with undeniable control and discipline.

It’s absolutely breathtaking.

When you serve an ace that’s just right on the line to win the set, Utahime breaks down and slams her racket down on the ground repeatedly.

Geto looks down and realizes that Gojo’s hand is on his thigh.

The rest of the match is sealed at that point, and to no one’s surprise, you add the singles championship trophy to the storied collection that has to be growing exponentially in your home.

They find you afterwards at the junior players’ tent, positively beaming and surrounded by dozens upon dozens of reporters. You answer all their questions with frightening poise and confidence, and they’re struck once again that they may just be in the presence of someone great.

Someone like Gojo, Geto thinks distantly. Someone I can reach.

When the dust settles and the reporters finally flock from your side to discuss your clothing line with a Nike representative, you’re left standing merely a few feet away from them. That’s their cue.

“Hi, I’m Getou Suguru—”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“I know who you two are,” One side of your lips curls upward. “I’ve been hearing an awful lot of you guys the past few days.”

“Really?” At this, Gojo grins, but it’s similar to a lion baring its teeth. “Are you a member of the fan club?”

You hum. “Not yet,” Slowly, your gaze drifts to examine both of them from head to toe, and suddenly the room feels hot. “But maybe you can sign me up for a newsletter.”

Before Gojo, ever the opportunist, can retort, Geto feels the inexplicable pull to grab your attention by any means necessary. For the first time in years, he doesn’t know if he can share this with Gojo. “You were otherworldly.”

“Thank you.”

The words are tumbling out of his mouth without thinking, set on autopilot. It’s not like him to get flustered, to stumble over his words but the need to vocalize her impact is stronger than his will. “It was like watching a masterclass of the sport–it didn’t even feel like watching a sport, it was like a performance, like… like art.”

They can still hear Utahime’s sobs from outside the tent.

“You absolutely massacred her. It was kind of brutal,” Gojo says with no hint of pity or malice; if anything, he seemed proud.

“She’ll be fine,” You shrug. “It just takes her a moment. We’ve been playing each other for years, and she comes out better for it after every loss. Moments like these are gonna shape her tennis career.”

Geto bites back the retort that’s simmering on the edge of his tongue. Her career will be marked by a series of losses to you—she’ll be a footnote on the biographies that will be written in your name. Gojo beats him to it. “So you think she can beat you someday?”

“No.” You say the word like it’s an undisputed fact.

You and Gojo slip into an easy conversation and that’s when Geto starts to feel a bit pushed back, until you snap him back to reality. “You’re going to UTokyo right?”

“Yeah,” Geto furrows his brow in confusion, head still reeling from the fact that he’s even anywhere in your radar. “How’d you know?”

“I just committed. Figured I’d read up on the roster.”

Besides him, Gojo’s leaning forward in disbelief, as if the very notion of something so mundane and boring as college could possibly contain you. “You’re not going pro?”

You don’t even attempt to humor him. “Not for a while.”

“You could take home even more trophies, start going up against real opponents,” Gojo’s eyes are aflame with all the possibilities surging through his head. He looks at Geto like the very idea stings him. “Solidify your place as one of the best. Why stop all that momentum in its tracks?”

“Have you ever considered that I might want to learn a thing or two besides hitting a ball with a racket?” That makes both of them pause. Who chooses real life over tennis? Before they could probe further, a representative from ESPN is motioning for you to exit. If Geto visibly deflates, he tries not to show it. “I’ve gotta go do this interview, but there’s this little party going on tonight. You guys should come.”

“Yes!” Gojo lights up at the mention of the party, and the prospect of seeing you again. “We’ll be there!”

“Cool,” As you walk away, you look back at the two dumbstruck fools. “I’ll see you two around.”

They stand in that cramped tent for longer than necessary, processing the interaction and mulling your words over in their heads repeatedly, over and over again, until it becomes static noise. At the edge of his periphery, he sees Gojo lean against a table, positively beat and entranced for the first time in a long time.

Gojo sighs, blowing strands of white hair away from his face. “I’d let her fuck me with a racket.”

─────── · ·

There’s posters of you around the party in various states of athleticism. Some of you staring the camera down, looking like a force of nature with your racket in a position to swing. A few candids of you actually playing on the court, your forehead creased in a focused and determined frown. But there’s one in the center of it all that they’re drawn to.

He thinks he remembers this one. The match had been played at the back of his coach’s office once, and he thought back to the way your last name had flashed on the screen and paid it no mind. Your opponent was this girl on the precipice of going pro, and tennis critics and fans alike had remarked on the way you seemed to come alive.

You jumped to deliver a crushing blow, and he thinks you look like an angel.

On the other side of the room, you’ve been surrounded by adoring fans and interviewers alike all night, taking photos with your shiny new trophy, and every attempt of theirs to grab your attention has gone unnoticed. While they wait for their turn to be seen. Geto clears his throat. “How are we going to go about this?”

“What do you mean?” Gojo tilts his head, eyes still not breaking away from your form. “Go about what?”

“I don’t want to scare her off. We’re like two bulls in a china shop together. We’ll cancel each other out.”

Gojo weighs his words, and shrugs. “Two negatives and one positive make a positive.”

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“Hey!” Suddenly, you’re approaching them very quickly, finally finding the opportunity to break away from the crowd. You’re wearing lip gloss, he notices, and his throat suddenly dries up. “You both made it.”

Gojo and Geto enthusiastically greet you back, and then there’s an awkward beat. None of you are really sure how to proceed. A hug feels too intimate, so you all settle for awkward little waves.

“I didn’t realize that your final match was tomorrow,” Your hands are on your hips, examining the two of them appraisingly. “Are you sure you don’t need to practice or something?”

“We both know how it’s going to go.”

Geto stares blankly at Gojo, like he could kill him, but he tries to regain his cool. “What Gojo means to say, is that we’ve been playing with each other for a long time. We know each other well enough not to sweat it.”

“All in good fun!” Gojo chirps in, all smiles and joy.

You raise an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Well, I’m glad you guys came.”

There’s a quiet, peaceful moment when all you do is stand there, relishing in the atmosphere of the party. Before you could cut that silence, Gojo beats you to it.

“Do you wanna get out of here?”

You know you shouldn’t. There’s sponsors you should probably talk to, your manager’s driving herself into a flurry, and your parents were already eyeing the pair with something along the lines of suspicion.

But your cheeks are aching from all the smiling and the way they’re looking at you, as if you held them in the palm of your hand is too tempting to ignore. You’re the number one junior girls tennis player in the world. Who’s going to stop you?

“Yeah,” You smile. “Lead the way.”

—

Their hotel room is shabby and dark and littered with half-empty bottles and takeout, which they scramble to hide and throw away as you keep examining the rest of the room. You see a polaroid of the two of them that must’ve been taken sometime during the tournament, Gojo gleefully leaning over Geto and striking a peace sign.

“Sorry about all that,” Geto rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, and it evaporates any sort of nerves you may have had on the walk over. “We weren’t really expecting company.” Gojo brings out a six-pack of beer and your night truly begins.

It’s unexpected how easily you open up to the two of them. It’s hard to develop peers in tennis, not when you simply function on another level, but you look at the two of them, really look at them and think that they might just understand. They look at you with nostalgia and a remembrance that you can’t explain.

You think it might be similar to how they feel for each other.

It’s only around midnight when you start to get antsy, and they can feel it too.

You’ve seen the way they stare. You’ve been dancing around it all day, willing yourself to stay painfully oblivious, but you can feel that delicate string of tension start to go taut, and you know that snap is coming.

When you rise, slowly, you can feel the way their gazes sear into your skin, committing you to memory. Gojo’s eyes travel throughout the length of your body, examining every part of you like it’s a revelation. Every inch of smooth skin, curves delightfully peeking out of the Juicy Couture set you have on, that necklace of yours you were playing with earlier.

But it’s Geto’s eyes that remain locked solely with yours, as if looking away would physically pain him. Otherworldly. Like a performance, like art, you thought distantly. He looks at you like there’s nothing else in the world that matters.

You hum. You’ve become even more painstakingly aware just how in control you are and it sends a rush of heat between your legs.

Without acknowledging either of them, you travel to the foot of one of their beds, sitting down with your hands on your lap. “Come here.”

“Which one of us?”

Gojo doesn’t even hesitate, taking his place next to you on the bed without question. It compels Geto to follow, sitting on the opposite side of him. You look over at the two of them sitting next to you, diligent and obedient and ready for what you have to offer.

Interesting.

It’s silent for a singular second as you appraise each of them, sincerely liking what you see. But there’s something that drags you into Geto’s orbit; it’s magnetic, it’s contagious, and it’s why you pull him to you first.

Geto kisses like he’s restrained, and it takes you lightly pulling his hair and bringing him closer to allow him to let loose, muscles going placid under your touch. He surprises you in turn, nibbling on the bottom of your lip before dragging his tongue to mash against yours and reaching towards your hips. You like this version of him a lot.

Behind you, Gojo gently holds your hips, his large and inhuman body fitting against yours as he waits not so patiently for his turn.

When you finally turn towards him, he’s unashamed, burning with desire and drinking you in like you’re the oasis in a dessert. It’s demanding and a lot, but you keep up with him anyway, demanding more from him in return, practically meshed together as you feel Geto snaking his hands up your stomach and appreciating the way his feather light touches leave goosebumps.

You pull back for a moment to look at both of them, really look at them, a part of you gets greedy. Whatever it is between the two of them, whatever you do next, will surely open the floodgates. The concern dissipates as fast as it comes.

There’s not a part of you that can bring itself to care, not when they’re looking at you with so much need and desire. Not when you can see just how badly they need this, need you, need each other.

When you all lock eyes, there’s an unspoken agreement. You all dive in together.

The three of you kiss like you’re all starving, all warm tongue and groans. Gojo’s caressing the curve of your cheekbone, gasping into your mouth, on the precipice of devouring you. You’re grinding yourself into him wherever you can get pressure against your center and you can feel the attacks on your neck, Geto’s hands beginning to undo the zipper on your pretty pink jacket.

Closing your eyes, losing yourself in the sensation of both men’s firm and strong bodies moving over your frame. At some point, you lean your head back on Gojo’s chest and feel calloused fingertips stroke down your throat and it causes your brain to short-circuit.

Geto runs his tongue over your lips, and nails press into your side. You moan, and it’s a small, light thing, barely audible, but Geto thinks he wants to keep that sound coming out of you for the rest of his life. He travels back to your neck and grazes blunt teeth against the smooth expanse of your neck and finds that he enjoys your sharp intakes of breath much, much more.

Your jacket’s long gone at this point, and you can feel two sets of hands starting to make their way into your sports bra. There’s so much sensation, so much desperation. It’s a competition to see who can force more sounds out of you.

Gojo runs his thumb across your nipple and gives it the same attention he’s been giving to your neck. The whimper that comes out of your lips is unprovoked, and you can feel the cruel smile forming against your hair.

When he pulls back, you whine, until you see that conniving glint in his eyes, like he knows something you don’t. You become hyper aware of his hands finding its way to Geto’s face, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time.

Eyes half-lidded and smiling, Gojo hungrily, deliciously tastes Geto and Geto alone, one hand reaching to wrap around one side of his neck and a hand making its way up your thigh and into your shorts, chuckling delightfully against Geto when he feels just how soaked you are.

You lick your lips, taking in the sight before you.

Geto clambers at Gojo’s face, his neck, his chest, burning with the need to touch all of him, all at once. He sucks at his bottom lip and bites, pulling more of those beautiful sounds from Gojo’s parted mouth.

When Gojo finally retreats, examining the mess he’s made of Geto, at his heaving chest and desperate groans, he turns back to you and smiles from ear to ear. “You want us to fuck you?”

You’ve already pulled off the rest of your clothes, tugging the shorts down your legs at a tantalizingly slow pace. But the way your chest is heaving is betraying the cool exterior you’re trying desperately to maintain. “Yeah.”

And just like that, they’re back to leaving scathing, hot and wet kisses up your neck, whispering so many obscenities in your ear that make your head spin.

You’re fucking amazing, you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you, you, all you, so fucking sexy, want to fuck you right now, fuck you with Geto, make you feel our love.

Geto’s eyes are dark. “Say please. Show us how you want us.”

“Please,” You’re babbling, barely coherent, and the sound is lost amid the noise. “Oh god.”

In a rare state of lucidity, you took one of their hands and put it right where you needed them, forcing their palm to cup you between your thighs, grinding so deliciously and whimpering at the small bit of friction you taste. And then another hand—at this point, you can’t keep track of who’s where, it’s a mess of limbs and breaths and you can’t find it in you to care—strokes against your slit, teasing and rubbing and purposely providing you with little to no relief.

You need more. “Satoru—”

Gojo sighs, drunk off of the way you feel, and slides one finger in with no resistance. “God, you’re so ready for us.” You tilt your head back and let your hair fan out on the pillow behind you, whining and mumbling and reaching for any semblance of sanity.

When you look back to the two of them, they’re tangled in each other’s hair and grasping each other with such devotion and need, but it’s when they look back at you with those dark eyes, pupils blown wide with desire and slowly start to descend together that your heart drops in your chest. “Just relax.”

Breathy and exasperated, you nod. You’ve never been this wet and you’re all worked up, so sensitive that Gojo chuckles at what he finds underneath, in awe. “I think we gotta help our girl out, Suguru.”

“Mhm.” Geto seals his lips around your cunt and your back arches off the bed. He was so gentle earlier, but the way he’s sucking, moaning, and dragging his tongue back and forth is rough and unpredictable. Paired with the way Gojo’s other hand is roaming the expanse of your body, playing with your chest, rubbing soft circles around your thighs, while the other is locating the sensitive spot inside you, and it’s too much.

Too much, too much, too much, too much, too much, too much—-

You’re pulled away from your delirious thoughts when Gojo comes into your periphery, as if sensing the way you’re slowly floating up into the abyss. “Stay with us.”

The noises spilling from where Geto’s seated underneath you, lewd and graphic and coupled with his delighted moans makes your mouth hang open. The ascent is nowhere near like the slow, building pressure you’ve felt with other partners. Instead, it’s liquid fire, lightning that threatens to pull you under at any moment.

Gojo hits a rhythm that has you singing, needy and desperate and you don’t recognize the way you beg for release, so different from the tough exterior you put up earlier during your match.

Geto spits into the mess between your thighs, nasty and unprovoked. And then you’re breaking, crying out, hips jerking with such an intensity that you know you’re going to be sore by tomorrow.

When you come to, chest panting and eyes dazed, the desire to return the favor bypasses any exhaustion. “Your turn.”

─────── · ·

SET ONE

G. Satoru: 6

G. Suguru: 2

Tennis was Gojo’s first love. Geto was his second. And then you became his last.

Gojo can’t lie. He’s having the most fun he’s had in ages—the scene unfolding in front of him was delicious. From the opposite side of the court, he’s just provoked Geto Suguru to his first point penalty of his career, a far cry from the composed and stoic persona that he’s cultivated with the media these days. He watches, satisfied, as Geto finally, finally releases all that tension, all that anger beautifully and beats his racket mercilessly to the hard concrete.

It’s a sight that brings him so much joy. It’s like seeing someone you haven’t heard from in a long time.

On the sideline, you’re watching your husband, transfixed. It’s subtle but he can see it in the way your chest descends and ascends in rapid successions, barely there but he knows. Geto’s perfect and pristine wife and manager, the former undisputed queen of tennis, and he’s got you playing into his game.

No one ever talks about the beauty or grace of tennis anymore. There’s glimpses of it in the way Geto plays. On late nights when he can’t sleep, he plays back your old tennis matches. But on this court, he’s determined to carve it out of both of you once more.

The only thing he has left to do is guide Geto to redirect all those emotions, all that passion back to the game. But he believes in him. He has full faith that the game will only get much sweeter from here.

He knows, like an immovable, unstoppable force, that he’s probably going to win today.

So Gojo takes the first set, but they have all day. He eyes his opponent across the court and sees Geto grin, but it’s more like a baring of teeth. There you are. Welcome back.

#she's unedited and messy and not the greatest but I NEEDED THEM TO MATCH MY FREAK #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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basset-babe · 1 day

Text

five times: the one point five.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings: none but gossip yet again

word count: 2.9k+

a/n: please do send me a message or comment down if you would like to be added on the succeeding taglists for the five times series! here is 1.5 times with ben. enjoy! thanks loves <3! (also, pls do imagine ben holding a graft rose for this one heh)

five times series: the first time. the one point five. the second time. the third time. the fourth time. at last. text divider from @heavenlayt and pattern banner from @cafekitsune thank you!

the one point five time.

In the hours of sunlight, callers have flooded the Y/L/N drawing room. All bringing gifts and performances in hopes to win the favourable yes of the season's paragon, Miss Y/N Y/L/N. The grand parlor, adorned with exquisite tapestries and sparkling chandeliers, buzzed with the lively hum of conversations and the tinkling laughter of society’s elite. Lavish bouquets of rare, fragrant flowers filled the room, their heady scent mingling with the aroma of freshly brewed tea and delectable pastries arrayed on silver platters.

Gentlemen, dressed in their finest attire, lined up to present their offerings to Miss Y/L/N, each one more extravagant than the last. Some brought intricate jewelry, glittering with precious stones, while others offered rare books, hoping to appeal to her reputed love of literature. Musicians performed virtuoso pieces on the grand piano, their fingers dancing over the keys in a bid to capture her attention through the power of melody. Poets recited verses composed in her honor, their words dripping with adoration and longing.

Miss Y/L/N, the epitome of grace and poise, received each suitor with a warm smile and a gracious word. Her eyes, sparkling with intelligence and kindness, moved across the room, acknowledging the efforts and intentions of each visitor. Her charm was such that even a simple nod or a softly spoken thank you felt like a cherished treasure to the eager suitors.

The hour had struck past 1 in the afternoon when, hopefully, the last caller of the day had bid his farewells. The Y/L/N drawing room, which had been a whirlwind of activity, now began to settle into a quieter, more contemplative atmosphere. The sunlight streaming through the large windows cast a bright hue over the room, highlighting the opulent furnishings and the array of gifts that had been presented to Miss Y/N Y/L/N throughout the morning.

Servants moved gracefully, clearing away the remnants of the lavish spread of refreshments while ensuring that every detail of the room remained immaculate. The air was still fragrant with the scent of roses, lilies, and other exotic flowers that had been brought by admirers, creating a heady, almost intoxicating environment.

"As much as I do love botanicals, all these flowers have turned obnoxious to my senses, Grandmama," Y/N sighed, feeling the urge to slouch on the couch. Her frame was poised elegantly despite her weariness, a testament to her upbringing and the endless etiquette lessons she had endured.

Her grandmother, the Viscountess Y/L/N, reentered the room with a look of satisfaction mixed with maternal concern. "My dear," she said softly, "you have conducted yourself admirably. The attention you have garnered is truly remarkable, but alas, this be the trials of being the season's paragon," she said with jest. "A small price to pay for such adoration and the opportunities it presents."

Y/N allowed herself a small, rueful smile. "It has been a most eventful day. I do hope I have shown the proper appreciation to each caller." She gently plucked a stray petal from her gown, its soft texture a stark contrast to her current mood.

"Rest assured, my dear, that this too shall pass," her grandmother replied soothingly. "Soon, you will look back on these days with fondness, perhaps even in laughter."

Y/N nodded, though she wasn't entirely convinced. She admired her grandmother's ability to see the positive in any situation. Lady Y/L/N had once been the toast of her own social season, and her wisdom was hard-earned through years of navigating similar waters.

"Would it be terribly improper to open a window, Grandmama?" Y/N asked, her eyes drifting towards the heavy drapes that concealed the afternoon breeze. "I believe a bit of fresh air might revive my spirits."

The Viscountess chuckled softly. "Not at all, my dear. In fact, I think it would do us both good." She motioned to a nearby maid, who quickly moved to pull back the drapes and open the window, allowing a refreshing breeze to sweep into the room. The cool air carried with it the scents of the garden outside, a welcome contrast to the overwhelming floral arrangements within.

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling instantly more at ease. "Thank you, Grandmama. That is much better."

"Now, my dear," Mrs. Y/L/N said, her tone becoming more serious, "while you have a moment of peace, tell me—was there any caller today who truly caught your eye?"

Y/N considered the question carefully. There had been many suitors, each with their own merits. Some had been charming, others earnest, and a few rather boastful. But it was not that she minded all these suitors; it was who she looked forward to that truly occupied her thoughts. It had been this Bridgerton man she'd hoped would be calling on her the entire morning. Unfortunately, he had not been seen yet in this drawing room.

"Y/N, my dear, are you still with us?" Lady Y/L/N's gentle voice broke through her reverie.

"Yes, Grandmama," Y/N replied, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "I was merely thinking."

"About anyone in particular?" her grandmother inquired with a knowing smile.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided there was no point in hiding her thoughts from her perceptive grandmother. "To be quite honest, I was hoping to see Mr. Bridgerton today.. well as of this morn," she admitted. "I fear he may have been otherwise engaged."

"Ah, Mr. Bridgerton," Lady Y/L/N said thoughtfully. "A fine young man, from a respected family. It is no wonder you look forward to his call. Perhaps he will still make an appearance."

Y/N nodded, though she knew the likelihood was slim as the noon wore on. She took another deep breath of the fresh air now circulating through the room, trying to shake off her disappointment. The season was long, and there would be other opportunities to see him again.

"There was Sir Nicholas Deveraeux. He was quite charming," Y/N remarked.

"He comes from a good family as well, but I've heard his uncle," Her grandmother leaned in conspiratorially, "envies the crown."

Y/N laughed at the Viscountess' antics. "Grandmama, that's quite scandalous. Wherever did you hear such a thing?" Y/N laughed.

"Deborah told me," her grandmother said, motioning to her maid. Y/N couldn't help but laugh at the notion of her grandmama indulging in gossip. "But I must tell you, I keep my options open still," she stated matter-of-factly, regaining my composure.

"Even though you are clearly captivated by Mr. Bridgerton's smile," Her grandmother teased. "It is wise to keep your options open, my dear, so as not to appear too eager for any one gentleman's attentions."

"Indeed," Y/N thought to herself, "it is prudent not to seem desperate and helpless this early in the season. After all, the season is just beginning, and there will be many more opportunities for maybe much more meaningful encounters."

The older woman patted the young lady's hand reassuringly. "You are a clever girl, my Y/N. Your charm and grace will surely attract many suitors. Just remember to enjoy the process and not to place all your hopes on one gentleman, no matter how enchanting his smile may be."

Y/N nodded, feeling a renewed sense of determination. The season was an adventure, and she was ready to embrace it with an open heart and mind. As her grandmama said, there would be many chances to find the right match, and she intends to savor every moment.

Just as she was about to resign herself to the wait, a soft knock sounded at the drawing room door. Both Y/N and her grandmother turned their heads in surprise as the butler entered.

"Forgive the interruption, ma'am," he said with a slight bow. "But there is one more caller who has just arrived."

Y/N's heart skipped a beat as the butler stepped aside, revealing none other than Mr. Bridgerton himself. He stood at the threshold, his confident demeanor softened by a warm, sincere smile.

"Good afternoon, Lady Y/L/N, Miss Y/L/N," he greeted them, bowing respectfully. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I am not intruding."

Lady Y/L/N's eyes twinkled with amusement as she replied, "Not at all, Mr. Bridgerton. We are delighted to see you."

Y/N felt her spirits lift instantly, her earlier fatigue forgotten. "Indeed, Mr. Bridgerton," she said, her smile reflecting the genuine pleasure she felt. "Your timing is impeccable."

Mr. Bridgerton's eyes met hers, and for a moment, it felt as though they were the only two people in the room. "I am glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N," he said. "I have been looking forward to our meeting."

As he stepped further into the room, bringing with him an air of warmth and possibility, Y/N knew that this visit was just the beginning. The season held many uncertainties, but in that moment, with Mr. Bridgerton's presence brightening the drawing room, she felt a renewed sense of hope and excitement for what was to come.

He walked closer, offering his wrapped gift with a warm smile. "I know of your love of botanicals. Although, I wasn't sure what to get, but I opted for a grafted Rosa Falstaff from our estate's own gardens."

Y/N's eyes widened with surprise and delight as she reached out to accept the potted rose. "A Rosa Falstaff? From your family's gardens?" she exclaimed, her fingers gently tracing the leaves and delicate blooms.

"Yes," Benedict nodded, his gaze softening as he watched her reaction. "I thought it would be a fitting addition to your collection, considering your fondness for floriculture."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton. This is truly truly thoughtful of you." Y/N's eyes lit up as she accepted the graft, appreciating the gesture.

Mr. Bridgerton smiled, a hint of relief and pleasure in his eyes. "I'm glad you like them, Miss Y/L/N. I thought something from home might be more personal and meaningful than the usual offerings."

Mrs. Y/L/N, observing the interaction with a pleased expression, decided to give the young couple some space. "If you'll excuse me, I have some correspondence to attend to," she said, rising gracefully. "Please, Mr. Bridgerton, make yourself comfortable."

As her grandmother left the room, Y/N gestured for Mr. Bridgerton to sit beside her on the elegant settee. "It's so refreshing to receive something so genuine," she said, placing the graft gently on the table beside them. "Tell me more about your estate's gardens. They must be quite beautiful."

Mr. Bridgerton settled into the seat, his expression brightening as he began to speak. "Our gardens are indeed a sight to behold, especially in the spring. We have a variety of flowers, from different roses to lavender, and even some more exotic species like that which my mother is particularly fond of. Each section of the garden has its own unique charm and character."

Y/N listened intently, her interest piqued not just by the subject but by the way he spoke with such genuine affection for his home. "It sounds enchanting," she said. "I would love to see it someday."

He smiled, clearly pleased by her response. "I would be honored to show you around Aubrey Hall, Miss Y/L/N. Perhaps you could offer some advice on expanding our collection of botanicals."

"I would be delighted," Y/N replied, her smile matching his. "There are always new species to discover and cultivate. It would be a pleasure to share that with someone who appreciates it as much as I do."

As they continued to talk, the conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on various topics of mutual interest. The room seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them engrossed in their exchange. The connection they felt was palpable, a promising hint of what could be a deep and meaningful relationship.

The noon sun cast a golden glow through the open window, bathing them in warm light. It was as if the world outside had conspired to create the perfect moment, one that Y/N would cherish as the beginning of something truly special.

"Why not a change of scenery, Miss Y/N? May I enchant you to a walk with me this afternoon?" Mr. Bridgerton asked, his eyes sparkling with anticipation.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement at his proposal, though very different from norm indeed. The thought of a leisurely walk, away from the confines of the drawing room and amidst the fresh air and beauty of the outdoors, was undeniably appealing. She glanced at her grandmother, who had discreetly lingered near the doorway.

Mrs. Y/L/N, catching her granddaughter's hopeful expression, gave a subtle nod of approval. "I think that sounds like a splendid idea, Mr. Bridgerton," she said. "A bit of fresh air through my garden will do you both good."

"Thank you, Grandmama," Y/N replied, her smile widening. She turned back to Mr. Bridgerton, her eyes meeting his with a mix of excitement and gratitude. "I would be delighted to join you for a walk."

Mr. Bridgerton offered his arm, which Y/N took with a graceful nod. Together, they made their way out of the drawing room and through the grand halls of the Y/L/N residence. The household staff, now accustomed to the comings and goings of numerous callers, discreetly stepped aside, offering polite smiles as the pair passed.

As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth of the afternoon embraced them. The gardens of the Y/L/N estate stretched out before them, a riot of color and fragrance that promised a delightful stroll. Birds chirped melodiously, adding a charming soundtrack to their walk.

"Your gardens are truly beautiful, Miss Y/L/N," Mr. Bridgerton remarked as they began their promenade. "It's easy to see where your love for botanicals comes from."

"Thank you, Mr. Bridgerton," Y/N replied, her gaze sweeping over the well-tended flower beds and neatly trimmed hedges. "I find great joy in spending time here. There's something so peaceful about being surrounded by nature."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, taking in the beauty around them. Y/N's lady's maid chaperoning behind. The gravel path crunched softly underfoot, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves overhead.

"I must admit," Mr. Bridgerton said, breaking the silence, "I was quite nervous about coming here today. I wasn't sure if my gift would be well-received."

Y/N looked up at him, surprised. "You needn't have worried," she assured him. "Your gift was one of the most endearing ones I have received. It speaks volumes about your character and your genuine interest. Quite a change in the morn's most fragrant bouquets. All exquisite but a tad bit too much on my senses." I gestured towards my nose.

He smiled, clearly relieved. "I'm glad to hear that, Miss Y/L/N. I hoped to make a meaningful impression."

"You certainly have," she replied warmly. "And now, here we are, enjoying a lovely walk together. It seems your efforts have been rewarded."

As they continued their walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, touching on topics both serious and lighthearted. They shared stories, laughed together, and discovered common interests. The connection between them grew stronger with each passing moment, the bond of friendship and potential courtship becoming more tangible.

"So, do tell me more about you, Mr. Bridgerton."

"Do call me Benedict, if you please. Provided, of course, that you feel comfortable and we are beyond the earshot of your lady's maid." his eyebrows raise in suggestive jest.

Y/N chuckled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. "Very well, Benedict. You may address me by Y/N as well."

Benedict smiled, clearly pleased by her informal, now more familiar, address. "My days are usually spent at home, but sometimes, I spend my time in my art studio at the academy."

"Yes, you've mentioned of yourself an artist, I remember." Y/N remarked, intrigued. "That is fascinating. What sort of art do you create?"

Benedict's face lit up with enthusiasm as he began to describe his passion. "I work primarily with oils on canvas, though I do enjoy sketching as well. There's something incredibly satisfying about capturing a moment or a feeling in a piece of art. It’s a way to express myself that words sometimes fail to achieve."

Y/N listened intently, her admiration growing. "I would love to see your work someday. It must be wonderful to have such a creative outlet."

"It is," Benedict agreed, a note of pride in his voice. "And I would be honored to show you my studio and some of my pieces. Perhaps I could even paint your portrait, if you would allow me."

Y/N blushed at the thought, a mixture of shyness and excitement. "I would be delighted, Benedict. Though I must warn you, I may not be the most patient of sitters."

Benedict laughed, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "I’m sure we would manage just fine. And who knows, you might find the experience enjoyable."

"I look forward to it," Y/N said, her smile reflecting her genuine interest. "But tell me more about your family. I have heard much about the Bridgertons, but I would love to hear it from your perspective."

Benedict's expression softened as he spoke of his family. "We are a large, close-knit group. There are eight of us siblings, and we were all raised with a strong sense of duty and love seeing my late father and mother attend to our household. My mother, Violet, is the heart of our family. She has always encouraged us to pursue our passions and support each other."

"That sounds wonderful," Y/N said, touched by his words. "Family is so important. I imagine it must be lively with so many siblings."

"It certainly is," Benedict replied with a grin. "There is never a dull moment at Bridgerton House. We have our share of disagreements, of course, but we always come together in the end. All the laughter and camaraderie make it worthwhile."

Y/N felt a warm connection forming between them, their shared values and interests creating a bond that felt both natural and exciting. "I would love to meet them all someday, even so now that your brother has found himself a wife. Such exciting things!" she said.

"And they would be delighted to meet you," Benedict assured her. "I can already tell that you would fit right in."

"He thinks of me as someone who would fit with his family? I could feel my heart flutter," Y/N thought, the realization sending a warm, thrilling sensation through her.

As they continued their conversation, the afternoon sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the garden. The hours had slipped away unnoticed, a testament to the ease and enjoyment they found in each other's company.

Eventually the day had struck shy of 3 at afternoon and they made their way back to the main house, the promise of future meetings and shared experiences hanging in the air. As they reached the steps, Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression earnest and hopeful.

"Thank you for a wonderful afternoon, Y/N," he said. "I look forward to our next meeting."

"As do I, Benedict," Y/N replied, her heart full of anticipation. "Until then."

With a final, warm smile, Benedict took his leave, leaving Y/N with a sense of happiness and a fluttering hope for the future. The day had been more than she could have imagined, and she felt a deep sense of gratitude for the connection they had begun to forge.

taglist: @novausstuff @pussyslayerhd @amoosarte

#benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #x reader #fem reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton/reader #fic #bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton oneshot #fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x y/n

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venusblakes · 15 hours

Text

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

you’re sat up on rafe’s lap in his dimly bedroom, all your books and papers messily scrambled around his bed. your hands are tangled in his hair, his holding you at the base of your hips, his lips are pressed firmly against yours as he slowly guides your hips back and forth against him

you’re confused when you feel him pull away from you, he leans back as he brings his hand to his face

he lets out a sigh, “you gon’ be able to keep quiet about this?” he questions, his eyes connecting with yours as his hand falls

slightly confused by his question you furrow your brows, “um,”

rafe brings his hand up to your face, his fingers pressed against your cheeks, squeezing them softly he leans forward so his face is mere inches from yours,

“you gonna be able to keep quiet about this?” he repeats,

you’re cheeks flush, rafe tilts his head to the side awaiting your answer and you purse your plump lips together softly before you nod slowly, “yeah.”

“yeah?”

you’re about to repeat your words again but you’re quickly cut off by rafe’s lips connecting with yours, harsher than before, so harsh that you’re falling back against his king size mattress, with him falling right on top of you

rafe doesn’t even try to hide how badly he’s yearning for you anymore, once your back was against his mattress he’s pressing his hard on right against your clit

the feeling catching you off guard as you gasp softly against him, “got a lot to lose y’know?” he mumbles, his lips trailing down your throat as he spoke

“can’t let anyone find out i got a thing for the tutor.”

#( ⟢. venusblakes )#. 𓂃ෆ kaela writes.#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron blurb #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #outer banks concepts #outer banks smut #outer banks

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zuntoshere · 3 days

Text

White book that BadBoyHalo found in Pomme's adoption chamber (22 pages) .

Text version and other pages under the cut:

" Once upon a time, there were three little eggs.

Three little siblings.

Full of life, they were happy to live. They loved playing with each other, and fell asleep at night while hugging each other.

They didn't know the reason of their existence, they didn't know anything about themselves, but they knew they had each other and it was all that mattered.

It wasn't an easy life they were living, but they had each other and everything was fine.

Full of love, they were kind souls at heart. Mischievous souls, they were having fun playing pranks together on their caretakers.

Sometimes, it was just playing hide and seek with them, finding all the best places to hide in these big white rooms, that were mostly empty.

Some other times, it was just taking some pencils and drawing on the walls with them.

And you may think, "what little devils they were!", but these three little eggs were always trying their very best to make their caretakers happy.

And they did everything they wanted them to do.

Being an experiment wasn't an easy life for them. Each day, they had to go through several batteries of tests.

Sometimes painful, sometimes not.

Sometimes, they swore they could hear a strange cracking sound, and the tests always immediately stopped, and the people around them were running frantically trying to find a way to heal them. Eventually, they were put to sleep and woke up feeling alright again.

Being an egg wasn't an easy life.

But despite how hard it was, the bedroom of these three little eggs was always filled with Laughter.

After all, they were only full of love to give.

These three little eggs were slowly discovering life.

All three of them loved flowers very much.

The first one loved poppies, the second one loved cornflowers, and the last one loved red coloured saplings.

One fell in love with music and playing instruments after a specific test studying reactions to sounds.

Another one fell in love with the snow after a specific test studying reactions to cold environments.

And the last one dreamed of living in a castle someday, after stumbling upon some fairy tales books for children.

Life wasn't easy. But they started having dreams, and were full of hope.

One sinister day, their caretakers didn't show up. It was other people instead. People who looked almost the same, but wore different clothes.

Because of their blank faces, it was impossible to guess what they could be thinking or what were their intentions. But something felt wrong.

Next thing these little eggs knew, they were separated from each other. Feeling lost, they felt anxiety overcoming them. A sense of dread filled them, wondering if it was time for them to start panicking or not. But brave little eggs they were, they just kept following these strange persons.

Eventually, they were led into very small rooms. Very tiny and cramped ones.

They got put into little glass cages, and they weren't able to go out of them by themselves.

Surely, it was just another test, right? They were used to it.

Everything was going to be fine.

The strange blank figures, although faceless, seemed to stare at them for a few seconds, completely silent. And without a word, they turned their backs and started to leave the rooms.

They closed the access to it, and silence filled the rooms even more.

And then, the little eggs started waiting.

They waited, full of hope these people would come back for them.

They waited.

No one came.

The days passed by. Each day felt harder than the previous one, each day felt more lonely. The hunger was unbearable, being more and more painful each day.

Eventually, they started giving up on hope to be found. But sometimes, you shouldn't give up on hope. Sometimes, you shouldn't let hope go away.

On a bright day of Spring, flowers were blooming. The wind was humming a soft melody. On April 15th, 2023, a little egg was found in an attic.

A month later, a plane crashed. Five French speakers survived. On May 16th, 2023, another little egg was found inside of a wall.

Some more months later, a detective walked into a room. journal was found. On August 30th, 2023, it was too late for this little one.

The first two survived, and despite how hard it was to survive on this island, they were still happy to live.

They had dreams and kept hoping for a better future, with their new-found adoptive families.

The two survivors became sisters again. They didn't know why, but both felt a connection with each other. Both felt very attached to memories.

At the end, they never really forgot Hope. "

#qsmp #qsmp hope #qsmp bbh #qsmp pomme #qsmp lullah #qsmp archivists #maaan the sad ending with sweet aftertaste #o7 u all we are not surviving tomorrow

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quinzzelx · 21 hours

Text

Steamy Pages

Azriel x Fem! Rhys Sister! Reader

A series of connected Oneshots. Read Paramour here

Summary: In the House of Wind's library, Azriel catches you reading a steamy novel, leading to a secret and passionate encounter.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Smut, 18!+, Oral fem!Receiving, PnV, dirty talk, Not proof-read yet

A/N: Somehow, I always end up writing smut instead of my fluffy or angsty WIP's. But I have so many things that I'm currently working on, which I only want to be perfect & as of right now, I don't feel up to the task :( I hate to keep you guys waiting- but I really have writers' block for some of my stuff right now and all I'm able to do is smut somehow lmao... I also need a name for this series of connected Oneshots. ☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

As you sat in the House of Wind's library, engrossed in a book, a figure appeared in the corner of your eye. Azriel. For the past few weeks, Azriel and you had been falling into and out of each other's beds. Ever since that fateful night at Rita's where the thin line you both had been tiptoeing around was finally crossed after drunkenly stumbling back home. Rhys, your brother, was out that day, Mor had left with someone, and Cassian was at the camps, leaving just the two of you to find your way back. Something was different that night, and one thing led to another. A blush crept onto your cheeks at the mere thought of that heat-filled, steamy night.

Now, you sat in the library reading. Azriel entered silently, watching you curled up on the lounge chair before the hearth, a book in your hand. He had been away for a few days, and seeing you here stirred something deep within him. Fully immersed in your novel, you didn't hear the silent steps of the Shadowsinger as he approached. The characters in your book were finally confessing their love for each other, and as the scene grew steamy, a deeper blush spread across your face, your heart rate picking up.

He stopped beside the chair and leaned down to watch the words you read, his breath brushing your cheek. A low growl escaped him as he read aloud, "My legs trembled as his fingers traced invisible patterns on the inside of my thighs, venturing further up, up, up. I felt his all-consuming presence enveloping me, and as his fingers brushed against my awaiting heat, softly caressing my cunt over the thin fabric of my lacy underwear..."

You flinched, yelping at the sudden intrusion, snapping your head in his direction. Your face heated unbelievably at what was happening. Embarrassed, you tried to snap the book shut, but he swiftly snatched it out of your hands.

"Azriel, stop!" you whined, trying to reach for the book in utter mortification.

He smirked at your discomfort and slowly flipped the book open, his finger trailing over the page as he read. "With a primal growl, he buried his face between my thighs, his tongue eagerly tasting me through the thin fabric." Scrambling to your knees on the sofa, you threw the blanket you were nestled in to the ground, fumbling to reach the book. Even your pointed ears turned a shade of dark red. "Az, please stop reading!" you swallowed hard, trying to pry the book from his hands again.

He chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on the book. The room seemed to grow warmer as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling your ear. "Why? Are you enjoying this?"

You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms in front of your chest, staring up at his towering form. Your face was perfectly lined up with his crotch. Your eyes narrowed. "Obviously not," you lied, trying to keep your face straight, hoping the scent of your arousal wasn't that strong.

His lips twitched as he caught your lie. He tilted your chin up just enough to make eye contact before he brought the book up slightly, still holding onto it, the description obscene. "I don't think I believe you."

Your heartbeat picked up, his touch lighting a fire inside of you. "That's not my problem now, is it, Shadowsinger?" you tried to fake nonchalance, but your heated skin and subtle glance at the book betrayed your true feelings.

He smirked, his eyes filled with mischief as he watched you, his free hand coming to your cheek to trace it with the pad of his thumb. "Careful, princess, you're giving yourself away." Subconsciously, you closed your eyes, leaning into the warmth of his touch. Your breath hitched when he continued to read the absolute filth of the book aloud.

"His tongue dragged over my clothed cunt as he grunted at the feeling of my arousal-drenched panties." He raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on his beautiful lips as he skimmed the page further before continuing to read aloud. "Oh, very interesting. My orgasm shattered me, crashing over me like a tidal wave as his fingers worked their way over my swollen clit. His tongue lapping at every bit of my arousal."

"You seem to be enjoying my reading, princess." His hand trailed down from your face, stopping at the curve of your neck. His thumb brushed back and forth over the tender skin there, feeling the pulse quicken under his touch. Your breath caught in your throat, lungs suddenly empty of any air. Heat crawled up your body, and your skin felt like it was burning. "I was also enjoying reading my book before you strolled in here and interrupted me so rudely." His low chuckle rumbled through the room, and he leaned in closer, the added heat from his body enveloping you. "Rude, was I now?" His thumb slipped lower, tracing a line down from your collarbone to the valley of your cleavage.

"Azriel," you said his name, meant as a warning, but the quivering in your voice made it sound more like a plea. His eyes sharpened, jaw ticking as a low sound, something like a growl, slipped past his lips.

"Say my name like that again, and I will fuck you right into the cushions of this couch until you're screaming it for the whole house to hear," he said, voice low and husky but calm and collected. Your eyes widened, and molten lava pooled between your legs. "You have no idea what kind of thoughts you're provoking, princess."

His thumb slipped inside the neckline of your dress, grazing the soft skin of your breast. "Maybe I should give you a taste of what you're asking for, what you're so innocently reading." You closed your eyes, gasping when his fingers dipped lower, skimming across your hardening nipple. You whimpered at the touch, exhaling sharply, one of your hands wandering to wrap around the wrist of his hand that was currently groping at your chest, squeezing your breast in his big hand.

A wicked grin formed at the corners of his mouth, enjoying both your reaction and your desperation for him. He leaned closer, whispering in your ear with hot, fiery breath as he continued teasing you. "Do you want me to fuck you, princess?"

Every bit of restraint you wanted to keep snapped as you surged forward. Now, with his face so close to yours as he hovered so close, you crashed your lips into his, capturing him in a searing kiss. Tangling your hands in his hair, pulling him closer to you, you heard the book drop to the ground, his now free hand rushing to your hip, squeezing it. He growled into your mouth. Pain struck you shortly as he squeezed your breast harshly again, pinching your pebbled nipple.

"Azriel, fuck," you moaned into his mouth, into the kiss, teeth and tongue fighting for dominance. "I don't want you to just fuck me; I need you to completely unravel me."

The kiss was scorching, burning through Azriel's soul and body, igniting a wildfire of desire that almost made him gasp. He snarled against your lips, a primal, possessive sort of sound, his fingers tightening on your hip as you pulled him closer. You pulled him even closer, and with his legs already leaned against the armrest of the sofa, he toppled over. The huge Illyrian male crashing into your body as you also fell back. But the kiss never broke as he now lay on top of you, grunting and starting to kiss down your neck, nipping and licking at your heated flesh. You whined and tugged at his hair as his hand kneading your breast slipped up to tug down your dress, making your breast spill out. He wasted no time exploring the newly exposed skin, biting and kissing over your breast, sucking your nipple into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of you, his tongue swirling over your nipple before sucking it harder into his mouth. His hand trailed down your body, slipping under the fabric of your dress, inching higher until his fingers brushed against your wet core.

"Gods above," you huffed, trying to regain some composure. You pulled at his hair, making him release your nipple with a pop and tilt his head to look at you. The sight of his face made your pussy throb—his dark curls messy and falling into his eyes, hazel swirling with darkness, pupils blown wide with lust, cheeks flushed, and lips glinting with saliva. Realizing you were staring, you groaned. "Fuck, why are you so gorgeous?"

The sound of your almost breathless voice had Azriel smirking, his eyes flashing dangerously when you cursed. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

You rolled your eyes, giving his hair a playful tug. "Gorgeous but a little too cocky for my taste." You mirrored his smirk, biting your bottom lip as you imagined how he'd pound into you, how his fingers would feel inside you. Both his hands sneaked down your torso, coming to rest just above your knees where your summer dress had already bunched up. He gathered it in his hands, maintaining eye contact, and slowly inched the dress up your legs, kissing the newly exposed skin.

"Az, what are you—" you started to ask, but he cut you off.

"We've been fucking all these weeks and I didn't get to taste that pretty little cunt yet," he said, fabric bunching around your hips now, his hot tongue leaving a wet trail on your inner thigh. "And I'm planning on changing that."

Azriel chuckled softly against your skin, the sound vibrating against your thigh as he continued to move his lips further up. His possessive hand on your waist tightened slightly as his mouth finally found the heat of your core, tongue lapping at your clit through the thin lace of your panties.

Your hips bucked in surprise as he softly nibbled on your clit through the lace of your thong. You squeezed your eyes shut at the feeling, your chest heaving, your left hand grabbing onto the cushions, fingers immediately digging into them. Azriel smirked against you, fingers hooking into your panties and tugging them downwards, revealing the smoothness of your bare sex. He groaned softly, almost unnoticeably, hands moving to spread you open for him.

You whined when he pulled apart your legs, your cheeks heating under his intense stare as he seemed to commit the sight of your glistening cunt to memory. "Gods, you have such a pretty pussy," he groaned. You wanted to scream when he dragged his tongue through your folds, from your entrance to your clit, sucking it into his mouth. Your back arched as you gasped.

He hummed against your swollen folds, the vibration making you quake underneath him. His tongue was lethal, and he knew it. He had always wondered if you tasted as sweet as he had imagined, and now he knew the answer was a resounding yes. A sinful moan ripped from your throat when he dove in deeper, prodding his tongue at your entrance and lapping up your arousal, burying his face in your cunt, his nose brushing against your clit. Your toes curled as ripples of pleasure shot down your spine. He moaned into your pussy, tongue delving deeper as he feasted on you, the sound of your moans spurring him on. With one arm wrapped around your thigh, his fingers dug into your flesh possessively. Cauldron, he wanted to drown in your cunt.

"You taste like the sweetest temptation, Princess," he growled into you. "So fucking delicious."

Your other hand, the one not holding onto the sofa for dear life, tangled in his hair again, tugging and pushing him closer into your heat. "Yes, make me cum on your pretty face," you whined.

"Beg for me, Princess," he said, his words muffled by your folds. His tongue lashed out against your clit, teasing mercilessly. With each flick of his tongue, you grew more desperate, your hold on his hair tightening.

You didn't feel like fighting, so you yielded to him, to his will. "Please," you whimpered. "Please, Az, make me cum with your tongue." Every word left you as a whining moan, grinding your hips and your cunt into his face. "Oh, please let me cum all over your pretty face."

Smirking to himself, Azriel obeyed your command. His tongue plunged deeper into your cunt, greedily drinking up your arousal. His fingers continued their assault on your thigh, squeezing and possessing in equal measure. You're mine, he whispered silently.

You cursed under your breath, eyes fixed on the Shadowsinger buried between your legs, feasting on you like a starved male, as if your pussy was his favorite meal. You gasped when his nose pressed into your clit as he basically made out with your cunt. Fuck, if he hadn't ruined you for other males before, he sure did now. The way you watched him between your legs only spurred Azriel on, his hands reaching upward to grasp your hips and force you harder against his hungry mouth. He reveled in the gasps, the desperate sounds leaving your mouth. He owned them now.

You felt the knot in your stomach tighten. "So close," you slurred, desire and lust overwhelming your senses as all you could do was feel. Feel his tongue exploring your pulsing cunt, mapping it out like you once did with the night sky when you were younger.

A low growl vibrated against your pussy as Azriel felt you close to the edge. His hands gripped harder at your hips, keeping you immobile as he continued his relentless assault. He wanted to feel your orgasm shudder through your body and echo against his lips.

With a harsh suck on your sensitive bud, the dam broke, and your release came crashing over you with such force that you saw nothing but white, gasping for air. He maintained his hold on your hips, not letting you escape the intensity of your own orgasm. As you came back down to earth, he released you and gently kissed your sensitive folds before lifting his head, lips curved into a smug smile.

When you opened your eyes again, you saw him gazing at you, your chest heaving with heavy breaths. "That... That was unbelievable," you stated with a shaky voice, swallowing heavily.

He hummed as he crawled back up your body, dress still bunched around your hips, leaving your core exposed. "I am glad to have left you speechless, love," he murmured, positioning himself over you and brushing your hair away from your face. His gaze held a heated intensity that sent shivers down your spine as he lowered his head and captured your lips in a deep, passionate kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, and you were so lost in it, so lost in the passion, that you didn't notice how he freed his glorious length. You only noticed when his glistening head pressed into your inner thigh.

You moaned into his mouth when he gave you a fake thrust of his hips, lubricating his cock with your arousal. "You're so wet for me, love," he murmured, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips down your jawline to your collarbone. He continued to tease you, rocking his hips and letting his length glide against your folds. "Fuck me already," you gasped as his cock grazed your sensitive clit again.

"Ah ah, patience," he whispered, a sly smile playing on his lips. He slowly teased your entrance, letting the head of his cock slip inside before pulling back out. Whining, you tried to meet his hips with yours, trying to get him to sheathe himself inside of you fully, your arousal surely dripping onto the couch cushions by now.

"Oh no, we can't have that now, can we?" he said, finally giving in and thrusting into you with one swift motion. He gripped your hips, pulling you closer as he began to move inside you. The room filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

You screamed out when he set a relentless pace, hips pistoning into you. He stretched you out, his cock reaching places no one had ever reached before, splitting you open. But it hurt so good, as if you were made for him, fitting perfectly around every delicious inch of him. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're so fucking tight, so perfect around me," he grunted, the sound primal and full of lust. He continued to pound into you, the couch moving slightly from the force of his thrusts.

You screamed out his name when the head of his cock hit your cervix repeatedly. He shifted and grabbed your ass with both hands, lifting you up slightly, and you automatically wrapped your legs around his hips, giving him better access. "Fuck, yes," he groaned low in his throat, his rhythm picking up once more as he pushed deeper into you. With each thrust of his hips, he ground against you hard, and the friction was nearly enough to make your eyes roll back into your head.

"Yes, yes, fuck me, tear me apart, Azriel," you gasped, chanting praise and urging him on. "You fill me up so good." He growled low in his throat, his thrusts becoming wilder and more unhinged. "Your pussy was made for me to dominate and destroy. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes!" you nodded, whining and writhing beneath him, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. "Please." As you begged, Azriel grinned down at you, his eyes gleaming with pride and a hint of sadism. He obliged, picking up his pace and slamming into you with almost brutal force. His fingers dug into the skin of your ass, leaving bruises in their wake. "I own that pretty little cunt, don't I?" he snarled, eyebrows pinched as he fucked into you."Yes. Yours, it belongs to you," you panted.

"You're so fucking tight and perfect. I could do this all day and never tire of it," he groaned, fucking you harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, blending with your desperate moans.

"What's stopping you?" you mewled, bouncing back the question. "Because of my brother? Because my brother, your High Lord, is also your best friend? Because you don't want him to know that you're fucking his little sister?"

"Fuck, you are a brat," he growled. His hand quickly snapped up from your ass to grip your chin, tilting your head back. "You want me to keep fucking you?" When you whimpered, he gave you a mocking laugh. "Thought so. Then you better behave." You whimpered again, nodding as best you could with his firm grip on your chin. Azriel's smirk grew, a dark promise in his eyes. He released your chin only to grip your hips with both hands, pulling you against him with each powerful thrust. "Good girl," he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "You know how to behave for me, don't you?"

"Yes, Azriel," you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pounded into you. "I'll be good for you."He grunted in approval, his pace unrelenting. The relentless rhythm had you teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body igniting with pleasure. His cock hit all the right spots, and the room filled with the symphony of your moans and his growls.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. "Say it."

"I'm yours," you whimpered, the words tumbling out between gasps. "Only yours, Azriel."

His response was a deep, satisfied groan, his grip on your hips tightening as he drove deeper. The intensity of his thrusts had you crying out his name, your body trembling with the force of your impending release. "Cum for me," he commanded, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you cum around my cock."

The demand pushed you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with a force that left you breathless. You cried out his name, your body tightening around him as waves of pleasure washed over you. Azriel didn't relent, prolonging your ecstasy with each precise, powerful thrust. He watched you intently, reveling in the sight of your pleasure. As you came down from your high, he let out a low growl, his own release nearing.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful when you cum," he murmured, his pace becoming erratic. "I'm going to fill you up, make you mine in every way."

You moaned at his words, your body still trembling as you felt him tense. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his release flooding your senses. He groaned your name, his hands gripping your hips as he rode out his orgasm.

As the intensity subsided, he collapsed on top of you, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close as you both caught your breath.

Azriel lifted his head, his gaze softening as he looked into your eyes. "You drive me crazy, you know that?" he whispered, a tender smile playing on his lips.

You smiled back, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "Good," you teased lightly, your voice still breathless. "Because you do the same to me."

He chuckled, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. "I wouldn't have it any other way," he murmured, his tone filled with affection. As you basked in the afterglow, enjoying the closeness of Azriel's embrace, a sudden shout pierced the air, causing you both to freeze.

"Where are you, you sneaky bastard?" Cassian's voice echoed through the library, filled with mischief and determination. Panic surged through you, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you realized the precariousness of your situation. With a frantic glance at Azriel, you both sprang into action, scrambling to compose yourselves and hide the evidence of your tryst.

Azriel's eyes widened with urgency as he helped you straighten your disheveled dress, his movements quick and efficient. You shared a silent, desperate exchange, a mix of amusement and apprehension flickering between you. With practiced ease, you both managed to arrange yourselves just in time, assuming casual positions as Cassian burst into the library, his grin widening as he caught sight of you.

"There you are," he exclaimed, bounding over to where you sat, completely unaware of the chaos that had just ensued. "I've been looking all over for you!" You exchanged a relieved glance with Azriel, a silent acknowledgment of the close call you had just narrowly avoided. As Cassian launched into animated conversation, his nose wrinkled slightly. "What is that smell?" he asked, glancing around with a confused expression.

You felt your cheeks heat, and you quickly deflected, grabbing a nearby book and fanning yourself as if trying to cool down. "Just some old library dust, Cass. You know how these books can get." Cassian shrugged, apparently satisfied with the explanation. "Yeah, I suppose. Anyway, Az, Rhys wants to talk to you about the latest mission." Azriel nodded, his face perfectly composed. "Of course, I'll head over now."

As Cassian turned to lead the way, Azriel caught your eye and sent you a sneaky smirk and a quick wink, making your heart flutter. You had to bite your lip to keep from laughing, the thrill of your secret adding an extra layer of excitement. With a final smile, Azriel followed Cassian out of the library, leaving you to catch your breath and savor the memory of your passionate encounter.

☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆

Feedback is always appreciated and welcome. Also pls feel free to slide into my inbox and talk. I'd really enjoy building up their universe because I'm a sucker for Azriel x Rhys!Sister Reader. The whole dating your brother's best friend trope always gets me and I have soooo many headcanons for them already lol!!

#azriel x reader #smut #x reader #acotar #azriel spymaster #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #reader insert #imagine #azriel acotar #azriel smut #Azriel x rhys!sister Reader

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agxxb · 20 hours

Note

Could you do a Colin Bridgerton x reader where he saves her from an arranged marriage. Maybe she’s Eloise’s friend and reader is complaining to her and Colin overhears and confesses to her

ofc!! i hope you enjoy ◡̈

No Ring? No Problem .𖥔 ݁ ˖

colin bridgerton x f!reader

warnings: fluff. use of ‘y/n/n’. love confession. best friend’s brother. mention of arranged marriage. [1k]

Your heart ached, your father’s words still echoing in your mind. You thought you had more time, more opportunities and chances to find a husband — but you were wrong.

Your parents had found you one, a man of their choosing. You could not believe them; your first social season and they had already taken control over who you must marry.

You had never met ‘Lord Vincent Howard’, the name your father had told you belonged to the man you were to wed. You didn’t want to meet him, either. Sure, he had a title along with wealth and land, but you didn’t know him.

You sighed to yourself as you arrived at the Bridgerton household, the door opening not long after you had knocked. Mrs Wilson stood there with a warm smile, inviting you inside almost immediately before announcing to Eloise that she had a visitor.

Your best friend soon made her appearance, walking down the staircase — presumably having come from her bedroom. Her smile faded quickly after she saw the devastation on your face.

“What has happened?” she asked, walking over to where you stood in the entranceway. The tears came back to your eyes, the corners stinging as your soon-to-be reality hit you once again.

“I am to be wed, and to a man I do not even know,” you cried, sniffling as the tears flowed freely, collecting at your chin before falling.

“What?”

“My parents, they have arranged it all. I have had no say.”

Eloise’s heart broke for you. She knew you had always wanted a love match, someone who cared for you as deeply as you did them. You had always spoken highly of the romance books you carried in your hands, it being a dream of yours to experience a love like the characters you read about.

Stepping forward, Eloise brought you into her arms for a hug. She wasn’t usually one for physical touch, though knew you needed it. You appreciated her sentiment, a silent way of letting you know she was there for you.

You cried into her shoulder, cheeks growing red. You sniffled and pulled away, a small smile on your face. “I’m sorry for intruding on your day,” you said, a small, humourless chuckle leaving your lips.

“You could never intrude.”

“Miss Y/N?” You turned your head to the side, eyes landing on Eloise’s older brother, Colin. “May I have a word?”

You glanced back at your friend, the girl giving you a smile before walking in the direction of the living room. You wiped at your cheeks with the back of your hand as you turned to him, a forced smile upon your lips.

You’d always believed Colin to be attractive, his strong features had become soft in your eyes. His facial features were heaven to your heart and soul, but none was more soft and vibrant than his mouth. You could be so happily mesmerised by those lips for all the days heaven granted you to come. His blue eyes were ocean-strong, swimming with warm sunlit currents and infinite hues illuminated by newborn light.

“Hello, Mister Bridgerton,” you greeted politely, and he grinned.

“I am sure we are past formalities by now, Y/N/N.” Your cheeks turned redder, glancing down bashfully. “It was unintentional, but I overheard your conversation with my sister.”

You sighed quietly to yourself, wishing a hole would form below and swallow you. “Yes… I’m afraid I shall soon be Lady Vincent Howard.”

“Not unless you become Mrs Bridgerton.” Your head shot up, eyes moving to look into his, searching for an explanation. Colin smiled, softly breathing out through his nose. “This is not the way I imagined this to go, but…”

“What are you saying?”

“Your existence redefined poetry for me. Everything you embody has become the meaning of art to my eyes,” Colin began, taking your hands in his. “My heart is an entire forest, and you have carved your initial into every tree. When I see you, it's as if my universe begins and ends with you. I could run forever, search forever, but in the end, every path leads right back to you.”

Tears pooled in your eyes once again, though not out of sadness. You had never heard such kind words, let alone been the object of their affection. “Colin-”

“I am in love with you,” he interrupted, placing your hands against his chest, keeping his gentle hold on them. “And if you even feel even the slightest bit of what I feel for you, then I would believe myself to be the luckiest man in the world.”

Letting go of your hands, Colin got down on one knee. You gasped, covering your mouth in shock. You had never expected to see the man you’d had feelings for, for several years on one knee, proposing to you and asking you to be his.

“I do not yet have a ring, but… Y/N/N, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

You nodded, too surprised by the situation to say anything. Happy tears flowed freely, trailing down your rosy cheeks like a waterfall, and a large smile made its way onto your face.

Colin grinned, standing and placing his hands on your waist. “I love you,” you told him, your new fiancé bringing a hand up to your cheek, brushing his thumb against it to wipe away the fallen tears.

“May I kiss you?” he whispered, eyes glancing down to your lips.

You didn’t verbally reply, instead choosing to press your lips to his as your answer. It was heaven to finally kiss him, to touch him in a way you had always dreamed of.

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. You laughed together, your fingertips dancing with the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Your broken heart had been fixed, and all because of Colin Bridgerton.

#agxxb #colin bridgerton fluff #colin bridgerton imagine #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton fluff

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really-fanny-longbottom · 2 days

Text

THE THINGS WE DO FOR LOVE

Pairings: Helion x Reader (platonic); Inner Circle x Reader (platonic)

Summary: Secrets can never be kept for long. Eventually, the truth always comes out, and so do the consequences of it.

Warnings: Mentions of blood/pregnancy/birth/fight/death (nothing too descriptive); there's a flashback scene in the middle.

Words: 7.6k

Author's Note: Hi! So I started writing, and this is what came out (kinda of what happened with 'Never Yours'). I'm exploring my writing at the moment, and that's why this got so long, but I like how this turned out, and I hope you guys do too. Enjoy!

You are a scholar from Day Court. But you are not just a simple scholar - you are the best.

You were known for graduating at the top of your class and for your impeccable reputation of never failing a project and never leaving a question unanswered.

You have always been a very curious person, and the fact that you grew up in Day Court gave you the privilege of having access to the best libraries with the best books in Prythian.

That's why books were your life and the fact you liked to have an answer for everything, even though Helion called you a know-it-all from time to time, and even if that irritated you a little, it was true.

Whenever a question arose that you didn't know the answer to, you made it your personal mission to find one.

Even if it meant having to read dozens, if not hundreds of books, but that part you never care about. Besides, the libraries were your favorite places, especially the one near the pegasus stables.

The only thing you liked more than books was pegasus. You thought they were the most magnificent creatures your eyes had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

Your favorite was Meallan, who was also Helion's favorite. It was with him that you learned to ride a pegasus, and he was your favorite partner to fly and enjoy the sky.

Besides being curious, you were also a very adventurous person, and it was your sense of adventure that got you into trouble.

One day, you decided that it would be a great day to combine the two things you love most in this world - books and pegasus.

So you tried flying with Meallan while reading one of your romance books, only to get distracted when the scenery in the book started to heat up and lose your balance.

Your luck? Meallan wasn't flying very high when it happened.

Your bad luck? A broken leg and a very big and angry lecture from Helion.

When he heard what you did, he banned you from flying with Meallan or any of the other pegasus again for months.

Which led you to focus on books again for a while, which helped a lot during your recovery.

Your reputation caught Rhysand's attention.

The High Lord of the Night Court was in the middle of researching the Cauldron. Rumors about Hybern being in search of him for a new war had reached his ears, and as all High Lords should, he began to prepare for war but the truth is that his library could not be compared with those at Day Court.

Even with the help of the priestesses, he was unable to find almost anything. That's where you entered the equation.

During a meeting between the Night Court and Day Court at Helion's Palace, Rhys mentioned your name.

Helion wasn't surprised. He knew very well what you were capable of, and at that moment, he couldn't hide the pride he felt for you.

He knew what Rhysand was about to ask of him. He wanted you to join him and his Inner Circle in Velaris and help with the research, and if possible, bring some books from your Court on the subject for them to read as well.

Helion had no problem with you helping them, afterall Rhys was one of his longest friends.

The only thing he didn't like was putting you in the enemy's attention. If Hybern found out, you'd have a target on your back.

Helion explained his worries to Rhys and his Inner Circle that were seated beside him.

He explained to them how you were not just another citizen of his Court.

You were important and very close to him. He told them how your mother was one of his best friends for centuries, and when she died, he took you under his care.

The Night Court assured him that they would treat you like family and that they would not let anything bad happen to you.

Before Helion could respond, your voice filled the conference room, “I’ll do it.”

All the heads turned in your direction, Helion leaned back in his chair and ran a hand over his face. "How many times do I have to tell you not to eavesdrop?"

With an innocent smile, you replied, "I wasn't eavesdropping. I was passing by, and I heard my name."

"Really? You were just passing by?" Helion didn't believe you for a second.

The Inner Circle watched the scene unfold in front of them with amusement in their faces.

"Hum hum" was your response.

Helion interlaced his hands and with an amused look - one that you knew very well and that meant he was about to corner you - "And where were you going, if I may ask?"

"I...Hum, I..." You paused to think. "Ah, I was going to the kitchen. Yes, that's where I was going." You finished with pride.

Helion chuckled. "The same kitchen that is on the other side of the palace, and you can't access it from this floor?"

Your smile fell, and you realized you had been caught.

He was right, this floor was for political purposes only - Helion's office, the conference room they were in now, an armament room and the map room which was mainly used by Helion's General and his soldiers.

Everyone tried to contain their laughter at your expression and when you tried to come up with a quick response and couldn't, you decided to admit defeat "Okay, okay, I wasn't just passing by. What do you want me to say? You know I'm curious."

"Indeed, I do." He gave you a smile. Raising from his seat, he gestured for you to approach him, and when you did, he wrapped you in a side hug. "Y/N, meet the Inner Circle."

You couldn't help but linger your gaze on the Shadowsinger. He was stupidly handsome, and no one should look that good.

The laughter caught your attention, and when you looked at them, you noticed that everyone was smiling except Helion.

Realizing what just happened, you said, "Shit. Did I just say that out loud?" A hand coming to cover your mouth that was starting to form into a nervous smile.

"Unfortunately." Helion replied with a roll of his eyes.

Another thing you were also, besides being curious and adventurous - is being honest. You are not, and you have never been afraid to say what you think and be direct about it.

Helion has always really liked that trait of yours but not at the moment, especially when you're using it to flirt with the male in front of you.

"Okay, enough." He averted his gaze to Azriel. "Stop looking at her like that before I regret all of this." The Shadowsinger raised his hand in surrender with a smile.

Helion released a sigh before looking at you. "Are you sure about this? You don't have to do it if you don't want to."

You gave him an assured smile. "I'm sure. I can do this. Besides, it's what I was trained for, right?" That led you to another thought. "Oh, can you train me while I'm there?" You asked the General.

Cassian was surprised by the question. No one ever asked him to train them before, and if they did, it wouldn't be a female. That made him happy, so he had no problem in saying, "Of course."

"Awesome. I'm going to pack my things." You said with one last smile before exiting the room.

"Alright. Rhys, I'm trusting you, all of you, with her. So... don't fuck this up, unless you would like to see me angry." Helion warned them with his High Lord voice.

Rhys giggled at his words but he knew the male meant every single one "We won't."

Helion turned his attention to Cassian. "Oh, and Cassian? Be careful when you eventually put a weapon on her hands. She's a little curious and clumsy even though she never lost or ruined a book, which is kinda a surprise, actually."

Cassian laughed, "It can't be that bad."

Helion also laughed before telling them one of your many stories "I once tried to teach her archery because she was interested and when I was teaching her how to shoot an arrow, she got distracted with a butterfly that was flying near her and the arrow that was supposed to go into the target, end up going into one of the gardener's legs. Who, by the way, was on the other side of the garden."

Cassian's smile dropped and he got a little pale. Everyone else laughed but him.

"Oh, this is going to be fun." Morrigan said with a "I already like her," followed by Amren.

"Careful, got it." Cassian said before starting to re-think about his life's choices.

You were finishing packing when Helion entered your bedroom chambers.

"Everything okay?" He asked you.

"Yes. I already have everything I need." You turned to look at him and when you saw his look you told him "Don't worry. I'm going to be fine."

"I know." He approached you and held you by your shoulders "Remember, no one can know. It needs to remain a secret."

"Yes, I know. I'm not going to tell them." You assured him.

"Good. Now, have fun but please be careful with the weapons during training with Cassian. We wouldn't want you to lose a finger."

"Or him." You added, making you and the male giggle.

"Also, don't forget our agreement." Helion reminded you.

You rolled your eyes but with a laugh escaping your lips, "I know."

"Four letters during the week." He said while smiling at your antics, "Deal?"

"Deal." You said with a firm smile.

Everything was going well.

You had been at the Night Court for about three months now and the research about the Cauldron and Hybern had progressed a lot with your help.

You loved Velaris and adjusted very well but instead of staying with the Inner Circle, you decided to rent a house near the Sidra so you could explore the City of Starlight at your own pace.

And because you never lived alone before and decided to try it - 'a new adventure' that's what you wrote to Helion in the letter. He didn't like that.

You also did that, so you had a reason for the Shadowsinger to fly you to the House and then back to yours - but you didn't share that part with Helion.

The library at the House of Wind made you feel at home and helped with your homesickness.

The priestesses adored you and found your presence comforting. The only thing they didn't like very much was when you disappeared for a few hours and they had to alert the Inner Circle.

They found you on the last floor of the library drinking tea while talking to Bryaxis much to Cassian's dismay. You almost gave all of them a heart attack.

When they asked you about it you blamed your curiosity. You had heard some priestesses talking about the creature that lived in the library while searching for a book.

You went to the edge of the stairs and when you looked down, you found nothing, and you needed to know what this creature was like so your feet started moving before you could stop them.

You end up finding that Bryaxis was really good at telling stories and you thought he was friendly. Cassian didn't like that.

You were doing remarkable work. Rhys had complimented you multiple times for it.

You were respecting the agreement and sending four letters as agreed and Cassian still had all his fingers and toes but the same couldn't be said about the ear he almost lost when you got distracted during sword training.

Two months without any incident - or almost.

But that changed the day a letter from the Night Court arrived.

Helion never winnowed so fast as he did when he received the letter from Rhysand explaining about what happened to you.

Helion was quick to grab Rhys by the colar of his shirt that he didn't even had time to react "What the fuck happened?" He yelled.

Rhys didn't want to admit it but at that moment he was a little afraid of the male so he told him everything. How you didn't show up in the library this morning and Clotho noticed your absence, how no one had seen you since last night and after checking if you were with Bryaxis which you weren't, they decided to come to your house to check on you, but instead found the door open and when they check the inside...

The house was destroyed. Broken furniture, paintings lying on the floor, shattered objects, torn cushions and then, blood.

Not just yours but also whoever invaded.

Apparently, training with Cassian paid off because you put up a good fight to those males.

And then there were the scents.

The scent of Autumn soldiers, at least five different scents lingered in the air but they were starting to disappear so they suspected you had been taken at least two hours ago.

And when the explanation ended, he finally released his friend's shirt and took a step back.

Helion panicked. He knew what this meant right before he came to Velaris. But he chose not to believe it and just dismissed it. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

But now, with all the evidence in front of his eyes, he couldn't deny it. Not anymore.

He had found out the truth and came for you.

All the emotions started overwhelming Helion - anger, worry, fear, rage.

But he was going to find you, and he was going to bring you home - to him. Even if it meant he would have to destroy Autumn with his bare hands, like he did once, to some beasts, all those centuries ago.

"Don't worry, Helion, we're going to find your scholar." Rhysand promised him.

"She's not just my scholar!" The High Lord of Day shouted - he shouted so loud that the birds that were posing on the trees flew away as fast as their wings allowed.

Feyre moved forward and placed her hand on Helion's arm, trying to comfort him as much as she could. "What do you mean by that?"

Helion met the High Lady's eyes, and all she found in them was pain and fear.

His lips trembled, and after taking a few deep breaths, he told her the truth. "She's my daughter."

The Inner Circle stilled at his words. This was unknown to them, Helion had never mentioned a child of his own.

"Y/N is my daughter, and she's the princess of the Day Court." The High Lord of Day told them. The fear in his voice was noticeable.

Before any of them had the chance to say something, Helion raised his hand and signaled his second in command to approach him; the male had refused to let his High Lord come alone after reading that letter "Benjen."

Benjen approached him and stood to his full height, ready to receive his orders. "Yes, High Lord?

"I need you to send a letter to Eris, tell him what happened and that he needs to come to Velaris as soon as he can." Helion paused for a second, very well aware of the gazes the Inner Circle were sending his way, "and also tell him not to show the letter to anyone, as soon as he finishes reading it, he must burn it immediately."

"Of course, High Lord." Bejen replied and gave a small nod before leaving to carry out the order that his High Lord entrusted to him.

At the exit of one of his most trusted friends, Helion looked back to the Inner Circle, and he only had a second to breathe before the Shadowsinger spoke.

"Why are you sending a letter to Eris? What does he have to do with Y/N?" He asked him, with worry and confusion on his face. If Autumn had really captured you, he didn't want to waste another minute.

"Everything." Was Helion's only response.

Tired of his riddles, Rhys spoke, from one High Lord to another. "Helion, tell us what's going on. How is Y/N your daughter, and why did I never know about it? How is Eris connected to her? And why was she taken by Autumn soldiers?"

Helion released a long breath and pitched the bridge of his nose. He approached the High Lord of Night, and with a stern look and a firm voice, he said, "If I tell you, Rhysand, you and your Inner Circle can't tell anyone."

Rhys looked back, and with the firm nods of his family, he returned his look to Helion before extending his hand for him to shake it. "I promise."

Helion took his hand, and the bargain was made. A tattoo in the shape of the sun appeared on the back of their necks.

Helion gave him a nod before telling him, "Y/N mother didn't die, and she wasn't just a random lover."

The Inner Circle approached at the sound of the new information the Spell Cleaver was about to share with them.

He continued, "Y/N is the result of an affair that I had eighty-two years ago." Helion paused, aware of what he was about to say. "She's mine and Elowyn's daughter."

The Inner Circle gasped out loud, shock spreading through their features.

Oh, this was bad - this was very bad.

"You mean..?" Feyre wasn't able to finish her sentence before Helion interrupted her.

"Yes." He said, looking at the High Lady again, "The Lady of Autumn is her mother." Helion sighed, "We kept it a secret all these years so Beron wouldn't find out, but apparently, he has."

Helion took a step back and passed a hand through his long black hair. "That's how Y/N is connected to Eris. He's her brother."

Cassian spoke for the first time since all of this happened. "But how does he know?"

Helion looked at the General. "Because Eris was the one who brought Y/N to me on the day she was born."

Eight-two Years Ago

The sun had left a long time ago.

The night had already come with her dark sky, her shiny stars, and her smooth breeze.

The entire Prythian was thankful for it.

Every citizen from every Court just wanted today's day to end.

No one understood or had an explanation for the events of today.

It didn't make sense. Prythian was in the height of winter - two weeks from the Winter Solstice - to be more precise.

Even though the Seasonal Courts didn't follow the natural course of Nature, they, too, were affected.

During the entire day, the sun shined like it had never shined before and released a heat that Prythian had never felt.

Not even the Summer Court or the Day Court have had a sun like this before. And these were the two Courts best known for their hot suns.

Even Winter Court, known for their constant cold, and their land always decorated with snow and ice felt uncomfortable with the sun.

Nothing happened differently during the course of today's day to explain this reaction from the sun.

There was no reason for it.

Except, there was, they just didn't know that.

The letter came a few minutes after Helion had finished his dinner.

He, too, was contemplating about the sun's behavior earlier.

He even made his way to one of his many libraries to see if this event had ever happened before but he found nothing.

It wasn't strange for the sun to shine like it did today. They've had their fair share of hot summers but for the sun to shine like that during the winter? That didn't make sense.

And with all the libraries and even more the books he owned, there had to be an answer somewhere.

The High Lord of Day was in the middle of reading a book when the letter appeared on top of it.

The letter had brown tones with leaf patterns and an intense scent of pine - Autumn.

This was the second strange thing that happened today. Why - of all the Courts - would Autumn be sending him a letter?

It was then that he noticed that the letter did not come from Beron. The stamped seal did not belong to the High Lord.

No, the seal was in the shape of a hound. The Heir's beloved creatures and his personal seal.

Eris Vanserra sent him a letter - a personal letter.

Without further hesitation, Helion opened the letter and read the content hidden within. If he was confused before, he is even more now.

The letter contained three simple instructions: "Meet me at the border between Day and Dawn in twenty minutes. Come alone and don't let anyone see you. Burn the letter once you finish reading it."

Now, this was even stranger than the sun's behavior.

Helion knew that he was most likely making a mistake.

Meeting alone with Eris at the border could very well be a trap, but on second thought, what reason did the Heir have to ambush him?

The answer is none.

He knows that Eris is not the cruel and arrogant male he appears to be, he knows that deep down Eris is good, honest and kind and that the rest is nothing more than a mask that he had to create because of Beron.

That's why Helion followed his instructions. He just hopes he doesn't regret it.

As agreed, Eris appears exactly twenty minutes after sending the letter.

The High Lord of Day decided to arrive a little earlier as a precaution, just to make sure there were no hidden hounds ready to attack his legs, especially today that he was wearing a new robe.

Helion had no idea what this secret meeting was about. He came to think that perhaps the Heir was moments away from asking him for help to take down Beron, but he came to the conclusion that if that were the case, it wasn't him that Eris would ask for help, but the Night Court, so he scrapped that idea and was left with no other.

Therefore, he had no expectations for this meeting - if it could be called that.

But the last thing he expected was to see Eris Vanserra with a newborn in his arms.

The day was already feeling long, but with the sun shining like this and the unbearable heat that came from it, it only made it seem even longer.

Elowyn, Lady of the Autumn Court, had now been in labor for three hours.

The eighth child of Beron Vanserra and Elowyn was about to come into the world, and like all the other births, Beron was far away from the room where his wife was.

But Eris was there, just like he was at all the births of his younger brothers, holding his mother's hand like he always did.

Eris loved his mother more than anything, and one of the reasons he wanted to overthrow Beron so much was so she could be free and happy.

He also knew that Lucien was her favorite son, and although it hurt him, he would still do anything for her, but what was unknown to Eris was that he was her favorite son too.

Eris was surprised when his mother announced that she was pregnant again. After all, Lucien was born more than four hundred years ago. Another brother was something the young Heir wasn't expecting.

But he couldn't not be happy, besides he always liked taking care of his brothers when they were younger, and after everything that happened maybe a baby was exactly what they needed.

As his mother pushed again, Eris began to think about all the things he was going to teach the new member of the family - fishing, hunting, fighting because in this world that is also important, reading, writing, camping but most importantly how to control the powers.

That was something Eris didn't have.

No one taught him how to control and use his fire, and that led the healers to treat a lot of burns because of it, and he wasn't going to let this baby go through what he did.

His mother's scream shook him away from those thoughts, and Eris refocused all his attention on her and made sure to hold her hand tighter, assuring his mother that he wasn't going anywhere. Not until his brother is born.

Two hours later - with screams, pain, and sweat - a baby's cries burst into the room, bringing tears of happiness to the eyes of Elowyn and Eris.

But it was at that moment that the Mother made her first turn of events.

"It's a girl, my Lady." The head healer that was helping with the labor announced "a very healthy baby girl."

Eris froze, not knowing how to react before this new information.

In over a thousand years, the Vanserra lineage has never had female descendants.

This couldn't be possible.

"A girl?" Elowyn asked, exhaustion in her voice.

"Yes, my Lady." One of the healers that assisted with the birth and now holding the baby confirmed while walking closer to the bed. "It looks like you've been blessed, my Lady."

Eris's grip on his mother's hand loosened, and the male stood up from the side of the bed where he had spent the last five hours crouched. Now raised to his full height, Eris saw his baby sister, and his heart stopped.

And that was when the Mother made her second turn of events.

The baby didn't look like Eris or his mother or anyone in his family. Her hair wasn't red, her eyes weren't russet or brown, and her skin wasn't pale.

She wasn't a daughter of Autumn. Meaning she wasn't Beron's daughter.

Eris took the baby from the healer's arms before speaking to all of them. "Leave us."

The head healer asked before making her exit, "Should we announce the birth to the High Lord, my Prince?"

"No." Eris was quick to respond. He looked at the baby in his arms again before meeting the gaze of the female. "I'll tell him myself when he gets back from the meeting. Thank you for your help."

"Of course, my Prince." The healer turned to face Elowyn and bowed one more time before leaving the room "My Lady."

Elowyn gave her a small smile. "Thank you, Lydia."

Now alone in the room, Eris finally looked at his mother and took a seat on her left side of the bed, and passed the baby to her arms.

At the sight of her daughter, Elowyn cried.

She knew what this meant. Beron was going to kill her and her child.

Her love affair had ended after becoming pregnant with Lucien, but after seeing Helion at the High Lords meeting three years ago, all the feelings that she had buried deep down in her heart came to the surface.

And as always, she wasn't able to stay away from the male she's always loved - the love of her life, her mate, and now the father of two of her children.

Elowyn ran her fingers over the delicate cheek of her daughter - her only daughter - and with tears running down her face, she looked at her firstborn and said to him in a low voice "He's going to kill us, isn't he?"

It was Eris's turn to have tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall.

Placing one of his fingers in front of his little sister, Eris saw the baby wrap her small hand around his finger, and he could have sworn his heart skipped a beat at the gesture.

He had a gentle smile on his lips as he looked at the newborn now sleeping in his mother's arms. Her hand still wrapped around her big brother's finger.

"She's Helion's, isn't she?" Eris asked without taking his eyes from the baby.

Elowyn's mouth opened in surprise. She never mentioned Helion to anyone, not even to Lydia who wasn't just the Court's head healer but also her dearest friend. "Wha-"

"It's okay, mom. I have known for a while." Eris gave her a small smile, eyes still directed to his sister.

"Since when?"

"Since Lucien." Eris finally looked at his mother.

Eris gave a long sigh before revealing his opinion to his mother "If you would like to know, I wish you had married him and not Beron," Eris grabbed her hand and give it a tight squeeze before continuing "You deserve to be happy and well treated, mom, and I know that Helion does that and so much more. I've never seen you as happy as on the days you returned from your meetings with him."

Elowyn gave him a genuine smile before murmuring a "Thank you."

Eris chuckled, now putting the two pieces together. "This is why the sun is acting like crazy today, isn't it? Because she's a child of Day.

The same had happened with Lucien but it wasn't as strong as today and Lucien was born in the summer which didn't raise any suspicions.

His mother nodded her head in affirmation before returning her eyes to her daughter, and she gave a small laugh. "She looks just like him."

And it was true. Everything about you screamed Helion - your eyes, your hair, your skin, and even your nose. There was no doubt in it.

Concerned invaded her face, and Elowyn found herself holding the baby tighter to her chest.

She looked at her son again. "What are we going to do?"

Eris met her gaze before looking at the peaceful baby again, and his head started to work to come up with a plan.

Even if you weren't Beron's you were still his sister - his baby sister - and he wasn't going to let that horrible male harm you.

After a few minutes and after thinking about all the possible ways, Eris understood there was only one option - one that he hated.

But that didn't matter. What mattered was to keep you safe and alive even if it meant to send you away.

The tears returned to his eyes. He had to swallow the lump in his throat because he knew he was about to break his mother's heart.

After breathing a couple of times to calm his heart, he gathered enough courage to tell her, "I have a plan."

And just like that, the Mother made her third and final turn of events.

The High Lord of Day couldn't believe what was in front of him.

Eris Vanserra with a newborn in his arms? Things had just gotten far more interesting or dangerous.

The Heir of Autumn was walking in his direction and looking at his surroundings while doing it.

When he finally stood in front of the High Lord, Eris asked him, "Are you alone?"

With an annoyed look, Helion raised his arm to gesture around them and couldn't help but reply "Do you see anyone else here, Prince?"

"As far as I'm concerned, you could have soldiers hiding behind the trees ready to attack me at your signal, High Lord." He answered with a sarcastic smile.

Helion reciprocated his smile while adding, "I could say the same about you."

Eris shrugged his shoulders and concluded, "I suppose that's true."

Helion winked at him before his eyes moved to the baby in his arms. Trying to act as normal as possible and not let his curiosity take the better of him, Helion asked "Who's this little alone? And why did you bring a baby here?"

Helion didn't have a good view of you, only of the top of your head since the rest was hidden by the blanket.

At the question, Eris held you tighter in his arms, he looked to the High Lord - who was still busy staring at you, probably trying to get a better look - he wanted to see his reaction when he revealed the truth to him.

"This is my sister. She was born a few hours ago." The Heir said and moved the blanket so Helion could finally see you.

When Eris removed the blanket and Helion finally had a good view of you, he found it strange because he found you familiar, as if he had already seen you before but that was impossible.

At your sight, confusion settled on the Spell Cleaver's features, and he scoffed before telling him, "She's your sister?" He gave Eris an incredulous look and then continued. "I hate to be the one telling you this, Eris, but she doesn't look li-"

You opened your eyes at the sound of his voice, making the High Lord of Day freeze in his place.

Helion stopped. His heart did, too. Realization entered him as he put the pieces together.

He raised his head to look at the male in front of him, who only gave a nod of affirmation as his response.

Helion had to blink his eyes several times to make sure that he wasn't dreaming - that this was real.

Now with the new revelation of the Heir of Autumn, his previous thoughts made sense.

You looked just like him.

"It's not possible." Helion said, more to himself than to the red headed male.

"It is. She's the living proof of that." Eris told him.

"The sun?" Helion asked and received another nod from the red-headed male.

Helion couldn't tear his eyes from. You were looking at him with your golden eyes - his eyes.

He felt weak in his knees. Helion always wanted children, he knew that since the moment he met Elowyn but the world hasn't been kind to them.

By the Cauldron, he didn't even know Elowyn was pregnant. The last time they had seen each other was a little over ten months ago, but sometimes that happened, it had happened before.

When Beron was around a lot, it was difficult for her to leave without lifting any suspicions, so they would wait until they could.

Sometimes it took weeks, other times mouths, but Helion was patient, he would rather wait than risk her safety at Beron's rage.

But the wait was worthed because when they were together it was like the rest of the world disappeared and it was just the two of them. It was perfect.

The room was lit by the first rays of the morning sun and a gentle breeze came through the window.

The two lovers were together in bed. After a long night of passion and romance, the two were in each other's arms with nothing but a sheet protecting them from the breeze.

Elowyn laughed again at the tickling sensation. She hit Helion's arm that was holding her against his chest "Stop", but she couldn't stop laughing.

"Why would I do that when I can hear that magnificent sound?" Helion joined her laugh.

But Helion was right. Elowyn only laughed when she was with him, and that was one of the reasons why she loved him so much.

The Lady rested her head on the High Lord's chest and released a long sigh before giving voice to her thoughts. "I wish I woke up like this every morning." She adjusted her head on the male's chest so she could look at him. "With you."

Helion lowered his head to meet her beautiful brown eyes. "Me too." He said with a sad smile.

"Do you ever think about that? About how our life would be if we were together?" She asked him.

"Of course I do," he placed a hand on her hair and began to caress it as he spoke "The first thing I would do, would be to marry you and after making you my wife, I would make you my High Lady."

A smile began to form on her lips. "What else?"

He reciprocated the smile and continued, "Afterwards, we would have our honeymoon at the Summer Court because I know how much you would like to visit there. And then, I would show you every place of your new Court. The libraries, the pegasus, the entire Palace and my favorite places" He paused for a second, sadness starting to make its way to his features "I would make you feel like home, and I would make you feel loved, seen and heard every single day. I would give you anything you asked of me, Sunshine."

A tear fell from Elowyn's eyes, and her lip trembled a little. "That sounds perfect. It would be a dream come true."

Helion wiped her tears and told her "Yes it would be..." he gave her a weak smile. He, too, felt the pain of what they could only imagine."Would you like to hear the best part?"

When she nodded her head, he proceeded "After a few years of being married, if we were blessed enough and if you wanted, of course," he paused, a tear rolled down Helion's cheek "Children."

Elowyn didn't know what to say.

She had confessed to Helion a long time ago how she wished she had run away from her family and married him instead of her current husband. How she wished she had been strong enough to stand up to her father and how she wished all her sons were his.

Because this last confession was what held her back in Autumn, she was not capable of abandoning her sons and leaving them at the mercy of Beron.

She couldn't wait for the day when Eris killed him so she could finally be what she always wanted - Lady of the Day Court but in this case she would be High Lady as Helion had told her and she didn't doubt for a second of his words.

But unlike Helion, the first thing she would do wouldn't be to marry him but to accept the mating bond. That beautiful, golden, and magical mating bond.

She tugged on the bond and a second later Helion did the same, finding the words she was looking for she said to him "Of course I would have children with you, Helion, that's not even a question." She giggled. "Can you imagine? Little versions of you and me running around and causing trouble?"

Helion couldn't hold back the laughter that escaped at her words "They would be troublemakers, wouldn't they?"

Elowyn laughed even more "Of course they would be." Her laughter quieted and a hint of love adorned her face "Maybe I would finally have my little girl, I always wanted a daughter."

"Me too," Helion confessed, "I would name her after my mother in honor of her."

"Your mother was a remarkable female. It would be an honor to name our little sunshine after her." She said and dropped an arm around his waist.

"It would be my greatest achievement.'' He finished with a kiss on her forehead.

They spent the rest of the morning in bed talking about the future they wanted more than anything and expressed their love one more time until Elowyn had to leave.

What they didn't know at the moment was that it was the last time they would see each other for a really long time.

The memory surged through Helion's mind like a wave.

He remembers that day so well after all that day was only ten months ago. What a coincidence that on the last day they were together they talked about their future and their children and now, right in front of him, was their daughter.

Their little sunshine.

With a trembling voice, Helion spoke after a long time in silence "Can I hold her?"

"Of course." Eris was quick to respond and passed you to your fathers arms.

And that's when it happened. A moment that neither Helion nor Eris would ever forget.

In the second that you were in Helion's arms, both of your skins started glowing as bright as the sun had just a few hours ago.

The Day Court glow.

"Wow." Eris whispered, amazed at what was happening.

"Indeed. She really is mine." Without taking his eyes from you, Helion asked "What's her name?"

"Y/N."

And once again, the High Lord froze on his spot. He felt overwhelmed with all the emotions he was feeling at once - love, surprise, gratitude, shock and happiness.

Seeing the strange behavior of Helion, Eris spoke "What is it?"

Helion looked at the male with a smile "That's my mother's name. I told Elowyn once how if I ever had a daughter, I would want to name her after her."

Eris smiled at the kindness of his mother but he wasn't surprised, she was always like that.

"Elowyn." The High Lord of Day whispered.

Locking his gaze with the red-headed male, concern all written in his features at the well-being of the female he had been in love for centuries. He was so focused on you that he didn't remember to ask this earlier, "Elowyn. How is she?"

Eris released a long sigh. "Physically? She's fine but exhausted from the birth. Emotionally? She's a wreck, but I suppose that's normal considering her only daughter has to be sent away."

"What?"

"That's why I sent you that letter, Helion. I came to bring her to you." Eris said, a firm look on his face. "She can't stay in Autumn. No matter how much I want." He murmured the last part to himself, but if Helion noticed he didn't show. "And no one can know about her, about who her mother really is, we need to keep this from Beron."

He nodded his head, and he agreed with the young Heir. Of course, you couldn't stay there. He didn't even want to imagine what Beron would do if he found out about you.

At the thought of the horrible male, confusion settled on his face again. "Wait. What about Beron? Certainly, he's going to notice that his supposed child is missing."

"Don't worry about Beron. I took care of it." Eris tried to be as vague as possible.

"How?"

"You don't want to know besides that's not important right now. She is." He gestured to you, your skin still glowing and now grabbing one of Helion's fingers.

Eris gave a long breath, and then directed his gaze to you just for a second before raising it again to the High Lord "Are you going to take her?"

Helion scoffed, "What kind of question it's that?"

Eris released a long breath of relief, and a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He didn't doubt that the High Lord would refuse you, but he couldn't but be nervous at the same.

The Heir reached for the inside pocket of his coat and removed a letter, and Helion took his gaze from you to look at it.

"My mother wrote this for you. She told me to tell you to only read it once you're back home." He handed him the letter.

Helion's heart ached at the revelation of Elowyn calling his Court 'home'. He accepted the letter and thanked the red-headed male, and started making his way to leave.

But before he could, he stopped at the voice of the Heir calling for him. He turned around and faced him.

"I want to be part of her life." Eris confessed without hesitation.

"What? We just agreed that no one can know about her, Eris. And that includes you. She can't know you as her brother." Helion explained.

"I know that." Seeing the confused look Helion gave him, it was his turn to explain."She doesn't have to know me as her brother. A friend will be enough." He paused for a second "Beron just nominated me as Autumn's emissary which means I will be the one going to your Court for meetings so I want to take that as an opportunity to get to know her and to see her grow. That's my only condition, I already lost Lucien, and I'm not going to lose her either.'

"Very well. As long as you share those moments with Elowyn. That's my only condition too." Helion replied.

"Consider it done." Was the Heir's response.

Without further words, the two males parted away. One with a heart full and the other with an empty one.

Present

Helion's heart was no longer full. How could it be, when you, the best thing that ever happened to him was missing?

He saw the Inner Circle's face at the big revelation he had just told them.

Rhys broke the silence "Why didn't you tell me? I could've helped you."

Helion met his gaze. "I couldn't risk it. Y/N is my number one priority, and she'll always be, so I did everything I had to do in order to keep her safe. I have no regrets."

Feyre interlaced her fingers with Rhysand's and asked the High Lord, "Does she know?"

"Only that she's my daughter. She doesn't know about Elowyn or Eris or the rest of her brothers." Helion answered.

"She never mentioned anything," Mor replied.

"I told her not to. Y/N knows that she's my weakness and that if my enemies knew about her connection to me, they would use it as leverage. So I made sure no one outside of Day knew it, except Eris and Elowyn, not even her other brothers knew it." Helion explained.

"So how did Beron find out?" It was Azriel's turn to say.

"I don't-" Helion began, but before he could continue, the Autumn Heir winnowed to their side.

As soon as Eris' eyes met Helion's, he marched towards him.

The Heir was angry, and he didn't spare a glance at the Inner Circle.

With a firm voice, Eris demanded, "Where is she? Where is my sister?!"

Author's note: Thank you for reading! I didn't put the Helion x LoA pairing because I didn't want to give too much away. These two are one of my favorite ships, and they deserve their happy ending. 😊 Anyways, the beautiful dividers belong to @tsunami-of-tears

Taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe

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yelenasdiary · 3 days

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How about the story of Nat realizing she's pregnant and dealing with it all. Then the day to day life of Nat and her babygirl

Wondering

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Daughter! Reader

Summary: With help from her best friend, Clint, Natasha escapes the control of the Red Room and prepares for a whole new life.

Angst, Comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of Red Room, Pregnancy, Pregnancy Talk, Childbirth | 1.7K

Translations: милый (darling), я люблю тебя, солнышко (I love you, sunshine)

AC: I think this is the perfect request for the first fic of the AU! Thank you for sending this x I hope this helps set a little backstory for Nat.

A Widow’s Sunshine Masterlist

Natasha had been nothing but quiet for the last four days since staying with Clint at his farmhouse. It was a big house for a man who lived alone, Clint assumed that his friend was worried that the widows of the Red Room would find her and take her back but the look in Natasha's eyes told him that was far from her worries.

"Alright, tell me what's going on" Clint spoke as he sat down next to Nat on the sofa. His friend looked at him and sighed lightly, "Nat, come on, you can tell me" he added. Natasha knew the time would come and she would have to talk somewhat about her time in the Red Room. She and Clint have been on the run since she met him, although this was not the first time, she was able to escape, this time was the only time they haven't found her and brought her back.

"Remember how I was telling you about the graduation ceremony?" Natasha replied, Clint nodded. "Well, I didn't tell you all the stages before it. Before the graduation and after you've completed the program, you're to hav-" Natasha paused, the trauma of her life catching up to her, although she was still young, in her early 20s, she felt she had already lived a lifetime of trauma. Clint placed his hand on top of hers for comfort, "whatever it is Nat, we'll get through it" he assured her.

"I'm pregnant" the words spewed out. Nat could see the questions flying around Clint's mind and deserved to answer them before he asked. "It's Dreykov's way of getting more widows without getting caught, they inseminate you, you give birth, they take the baby, and you go to what they call recovery which is just them brainwashing you until you have completely forgotten the last 9 months. After that, you go through the graduation ceremony and…well the rest is what you already know" she explained.

Clint took a moment to process the news he was just told, "do you" He paused unsure if his question would offend his best friend, but it was something he needed to know to be able to help, "do you want to keep the baby?" He asked. Natasha nodded as a soft smile tugged at her lips, "I've done enough bad in the world, and I'll be damned if I let them do the same to my baby. I know this isn't what you expected so I don't expect you keep me here, but I do need a little time to work something out" she replied.

"Don't be stupid Nat. You can stay here as long as you and the baby need, you're safe here, I promise" Clint spoke sternly, assuring his words got through to his best friend. Natasha hugged him tightly, thanking him for his understanding and kindness and for a moment any worries she currently had were no more.

----

Pregnancy for Natasha was a whole new chapter that she wasn't prepared for, but she loved every single moment of it. It gave her a sense of normality; she spent her days learning new things that would help her for when her baby would enter the world. Clint helped her along the way, he even began building a small homestead for Natasha to have a little more privacy when her baby was born. It was only a few months into her pregnancy that Clint met Laura.

Each night Natasha would read you stories from a children's book she would buy from the thrift shop, even though you weren't born yet, the little actions she did while pregnant gave her great comfort and made her even more excited to finally hold you in her arms. She would talk to you about anything she was doing, baking cookies for Clint and Laura? She would be talking you through each step and even asking you questions as if you could actually answer her, sometimes you would kick, and she would take that as an answer.

Even through all the happiness, joy and excitement there was still worries and fears growing with each day. She was suspicious as to why she'd gone almost her entire pregnancy without even a sighting or feeling that Dreykov was after her. Clint assured her that his farm was a safe place and even offered for Natasha to join the Avengers after you were born, and she felt ready. It was an idea that she spent time thinking about but at the end of the day all she wanted to do was make sure you were happy, healthy and safe.

"Woah there милый" Natasha chuckled, rubbing her hand over her bump, "this isn't the world cup" she added.

"Kicking a lot today?" Clint asked, taking a sip of his afternoon coffee.

"She hasn't stopped" Nat replied. Clint looked up at her with wide eyes, "she? When did you find out" he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice. Natasha couldn't help the smile that tugged at her lips while her hand naturally rubbed her seven-month pregnant stomach, "I didn't need to find out" she replied, "She was always going to be a little girl" she added but she didn't let the faint memory of the Red Room bring out the happiness she had been having with each day you grew.

Clint got up and hugged Natasha and congratulated her, he could see the sparkle in her eyes for the first time ever, he'd never seen her so happy in the few short years that he had known her. "I wanna show you something" he said, taking her by the hand and walking her out to the small homestead that he had just finished and was waiting until the next day to give her the key.

"I was going to wait until tomorrow but given the news, maybe you want to start planning out the nursery" Clint smiled. Tears built up in Nat's eyes, "what do you think baby girl?" Natasha whispered as she looked around the empty room, "you can paint it, do whatever you like with it, this is all yours" Clint said.

"You've done so much for us, I can't thank you enough" Natasha turned on her heels and hugged him, "thank you" she whispered.

Over the last couple months of pregnancy, Natasha was preparing for you to enter this world. She and Clint painted the nursery in a soft pastel green color, she hung a photo from her first ultrasound on the wall above your changing table, baby animal décor stickers were also put on the walls. Clint helped up together all the future and placed it wherever Natasha thought would be best and once the nursery was complete, she couldn't wait to rock you to sleep in her arms in the rocking chair or watch you play with your toys on the purple rug when you would get a little older.

You entered the big wide world at 5:23am on a Thursday morning, healthy and a little smile that made everybody melt. Natasha didn't want to let you go, she could barely take her eyes off you, even when Clint and Laura came to bring the two of you home, she was nervous as anything when Clint held you.

"Do we have a name yet for the little one?" a nurse asked, "we really need to get the birth certificate done today" she added.

Natasha nodded, "Y/n Melina Romanoff" she replied with a soft smile.

"Melina?" Clint questioned, "I'll tell you later, now give me my baby" the red head replied with a soft smile and arms wide open.

"A beautiful name, I'll finalise the certificate" the nurse smiled, writing your name on a piece of paper.

----

Natasha was loving every moment of motherhood, even when she felt like she was going to fall asleep while feeding you and when sometimes she thought it was going to be another sleepless night on the cards but being your mother was the only thing she wanted to do every single day. When you slept, she slept and often Clint would find her asleep in the rocking chair by your crib when he came to check on things. Clint and Laura helped as much as they could, but of course, your mother was head strong and said she was fine with looking after you on her own.

"You look exhausted" Clint said as he placed a small bag of groceries on the counter for Nat. "She just didn't want to sleep last night" she replied, pouring herself a mug of hot coffee and sitting down at the small table in her kitchen. "Why don't Laura and I take her for the night so you can get a decent sleep for once" Clint offered but Natasha shook her head, "it's not that I don't want that, I just hate the idea of not being with her" Nat admitted.

"She'll just be up at house, you need some sleep Nat, you can't keep being supermom on coffee and 3 hours of sleep each day" Clint spoke, worried for his best friend. "Besides, how else am I going to show her how great of an uncle I am if you don't let me do that" he added to lighten the mood. Natasha cocked a brow as she took a sip of her coffee, deep down she knew she had to eventually let her guard down just a little and allow others to help. She just wanted the best for you.

"One night" Natasha replied.

Clint smiled, "you've got it"

As the weeks turned to months, things got easier for the new mother, each day you had her in awe. Nat eventually did allow for Clint and Laura to spend more time with you while she had a little me time and caught up on sleep. She loved taking you for walks around the property in your pusher, she loved bath time and hearing your little giggles and of course capturing your sweet smile whenever she played peek-a-boo.

At night when she would pop her head into your room to check on you, she found herself watching you for minutes on end. Her mind wondering about what life was going to bring for the two of you, what tomorrow would bring. She often wondered what your first words would be, when you would take your first steps and what all your favorite things would be but for now, she wanted nothing more than to just enjoy these early years and learn everything she possibly could about you.

"я люблю тебя, солнышко" your mother whispered as she placed the soft kiss on your forehead.

If you want to be on the taglist for this series, please see the masterlist. It's linked at the top of this post.

#yelenasdiary asks #anon #marvel #fanfiction #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #awidowssunshineau

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