#// silly guys in a court room

[oblivionsdream]

Does Monty ever threaten to marry Jester just to quiet the court sometimes? Like obvs it’s a joke but the threat of it is powerful

Monty hasn't specifically threatened that with Jester but he has threatened to marry Augustine when some of his advisors are specifically persistent on him marrying! Given the close relationship between the two men there are already rumors that there is more than just a king and his knight kind of relationship between them.

[rmu-vincent]

If u and victor aren't dating then explain this!

Congrats on being the #1 most popular campus ship btw

I truly believe that there are no wrong ways of creating art; we should all be free to express ourselves and convey meaningful messages through mediums we see fit, unless our messages are harmful or disruptive in some way. However, it does not mean that I have to condone every creation I come across. For instance, there are things that I simply do not understand, such as this example of photo editing. There is nothing I have to explain, as this scene has never happened and is just another part of the collective fantasy that Victor and I are secretly in love. What nonsense!

On an unrelated note, this website has taught me more internet jargon than I would ever be willing to learn. Hopefully, one day I will be able to forget all of the horrifying grammar constructions and words that were created by the users of this platform.

I never thought I would say this, but always being first does not sound as good anymore. Does your statement imply there are other "ships"? Why had I been involved in something I had no clue existed? I am astonished.

[nicoliine]

The day you noticed Lucifer was using his wings to court you.

☆彡 In birds, there is a great variety of nuptial displays at the time of courtship, especially in species that have melodious songs or show very striking plumage.

Little did you know, this would include angels or the king of hell himself.

 

☆ English isn't my first language. Sorry in advance.

☆ The reader is g/n; no pronouns or y/n are used.

 

You were always fond of birds, and you dedicated much of your life to helping preserve endangered species. You studied them, spent countless hours learning about the hundreds of species, a lot of diets and their behaviors.

This didn’t seem to stop once you found yourself in Hell; in fact, once you discovered there were a bunch of sinners with bird-like features, you just seemed content to be there.

When you arrived at the Hazbin hotel, you claimed one of the spare rooms as your personal studio, and after what you have called "the toughest battle in your life," you convinced Alastor to let you have a camera "as long as you never get that frivolous technology box near me."

Husk had to ask you not so politely to stop when you first met. Before you could even take his hand, you had started to ask questions about their wings; sometimes you even wrote on an oh-so-worn notebook of yours; it became a common topic of discussion between the two of you. When you forget he has work to do and start to take multiple pictures of his wings and even try to take one of his wings when he is not looking, Angel starts to think that your bartender friend is about to lose it, and you will end with a scratch or two.

 

Besides that, one could say that your presence in the hotel was appreciated; you could be found watching some funny shows on TV with Angel and never saying no to Vaggie when she asked for a favor. Soon, you started to feel part of the hotel, and the rest of the staff agreed with that.

 ☆◦ •◦☆

Lucifer was nothing like any man you had met in life or hell; he was, to put it simply, an awkward guy, always so silly yet so elegant. He had managed to get you longing for his presence more often than you would like to admit.

You are not sure how you and Lucifer became friends, but having a shared interest in ducks seemed to help. You gave him all kinds of facts about them, and he would step by your room every so often to show you the new rubber duck he was working on. Not that you're complaining, but one of his ducks set your courtains on fire on an occasion.

Charlie says that she is proud of his "social advances,” as she used to call your interactions. Seeing him out of his office more often and having an actual conversation with someone seems to make the princess happy and less worried about her father, and if that someone turns out to be you, it is so much better!

  ☆◦ •◦☆

The first time you noticed this weird behavior of his was the day you two met. You couldn’t help but mention, after his bickering with Alastor over who was Charlie’s father figure, that you found his wings precious. Lucifer, being the prideful man he is, wasted no time on extending his wings only for your delight, a smirk on his face as he saw your eyes wide admiring that part of him; they were so magnificent, you could swear they were shining in the light of the room, and you'd die to see if the feathers were as soft as they seemed.

 

Just a simple touch, please.

 

Before returning his wings to their place, there was a flutter of his wings, so slow that there was no way someone could notice.

But you weren't just someone; you knew it. What a coincidence! You could recap an article about some birds courtship.

The second time you saw it, you were in your room minding your own business. He came to you with a smile, but your eyes were looking past him, his wings on full display as he greeted you. There, his wings started flutter again, now lasting more than the last time. Now there is no way it was just a coincidence. “My eyes are up here, darling,” he said, that smirk on his face turning into a pout as you were not paying him enough attention. You just shake your head, focus on the man before you, returning your full attention to him, and the pout on his lips dissapears immediately as your eyes are on him.

 

  ☆◦ •◦☆

You are getting crazy; every time you get a glimpse of him, you find his wings moving in an oh-so-familiar way that you could swear it was a courtship dance, every time bolder than before.

That is when you decided to confront him, getting just a chuckle from him. It made you think maybe it was just your imagination, and you finally lost your mind.

 

While sitting on the hotel balcony, Lucifer was telling you one of his ideas for this new rubber duck. He said it would be the best one he would work on so far, even though you doubted that. Then you stopped listening, your eyes fixated on his wings. Every time he looked at you, they would flutter not so subtly, distracting you from everything around you. Your head rested on your palm, almost feeling bad for not listening to his rambling.

 

"Luci, you're courting me." It was supposed to be a question, but by the way the king of hell stopped his rambling and, looking at you with wide eyes, you found that maybe it was not.

"And what would make you think that?" He said mocking you, he also rested his head in one of their hands.

 

"Your wings, the way you move them," you pointed to his wings; they stopped his movements when you mentioned it; he just chuckled, then started to laugh. Was he laughing at you? It made you want to hide yourself from him; was it your imagination? No way.

 

"So you finally notice," he then said. Once his laugh was gone, he adjusted himself on his seat. Now, with both of his hands holding his face and looking at you with a smirk, his wings started to flutter once more. "I thought it would take you less time, may I be honest"

 

"Actually, I noticed it long ago; I thought it was just my—" You felt the air leaving your lungs once he got on his feet and moved closer to you. "...Just my imagination." You were not strange to his proximity, but this time he just looked so imponent, wings on full display and fluttering around. Now it was definitely a courtship dance, and you were on the receiving end.

 

"Now, what do you think?" He hovered over you who still sitting, a hand resting on the back of your seat, taking one of your hands on his and kissing your knuckles. The kiss lasted longer than you thought was the average time for one, and even then he didn’t let go of your hand. "Was my dance enough to impress you, darling?" Now, looking into his eyes, you could only see adoration, awaiting your response.

 

You couldn't speak; you can't imagine the king of hell pulling up something like this for you.

 

"My dear, please talk to me," he pleaded, a sigh leaving his lips as he hid his face in the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath in your skin, burning like hellfire.

 

"It was," you said, Lucifer now turning his face to look at you. You took his face in your hands and moved him closer, he gave you an inquisitive look but with no intention to move from your touch. "I should have mentioned it earlier; it was quite impressive." You smiled, and he did the same.

 

Now, how long you two kissed, you also don't remember; what you remember, however, is how he held you against him as if you were just about to disappear right then, and that when you finally got to touch his wings, you were proved wrong.

His feathers were much softer than you have imagined.

This idea came to me yesterday when my dad showed me a reel of a lady bird who epically ignored the male who was dancing to her, I felt so bad and immediately thought about Lucifer.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated 💞

[gurorori]

'how da fuck ya become moots' EASY jus b unapologetically autistic in da way ya approach people. i think it worked wonders 4 me

[lupinqs]

CRUSH CULTURE ━━ paige bueckers x reader

☆ ━ summary: paige has a hopeless crush on you, a cheerleader.

☆ ━ word count: 5.4K

☆ ━ warnings: alcohol consumption, kissing, this one’s tame

☆ ━ links: my masterlist, inspired by this request (lol i know this was forever ago)

☆ ━ author’s note: hiii i hope y’all enjoy—lemme know if you guys want a part 2 and if so send in ideas for it!!! i have been hopelessly uncreative recently!!! also yes i have been writing tmtc and safe and sound i promise—new chapter of tmtc should be out sometime this weekend, no idea on safe and sound because goddamn that fic takes me forever to write

PAIGE HAS ALWAYS noticed you—though, funny enough, at first it wasn’t because you cheered. That part didn’t even register until her junior year, when she started paying attention to things off the court. But she’d first noticed you back in her sophomore year, in that one class she didn’t feel like she needed at all. She’d often zone out, either doodling in the margins of her notebook or letting her eyes drift around the room as she let her mind wander. Her gaze would skip over classmates until, one day, it stopped on you.

And, God, she remembers that moment. The way she’d blinked, like she needed to reset her brain for a second because… well, you. It wasn’t anything specific, nothing she could even name at the time. But there was this something about you that made her stomach flip. From then on, whenever she zoned out, her eyes would find you before she even realized it. You’d be focused on your notes or lost in thought, completely unaware, and Paige would catch herself staring just a little too long.

She’d think about talking to you, but for some reason, you made her nervous. And that wasn’t something Paige was used to feeling—not with girls. She’d been confident her whole life, even a little cocky when it came to flirting, and her reputation certainly proceeded her. But with you, all of that confidence vanished. Her brain would go blank, her hands would fidget, and her heart would pound just watching you, sitting across the room. The idea of walking up to you, striking up a conversation, felt almost laughable. You’d somehow managed to turn her, Paige Bueckers, into a stammering mess with just a look.

And then there was the other part—the part that kept her from making a move even when she managed to work up the nerve. You looked so…straight. She knows it’s a stupid assumption, but something about the way you carried yourself—she’d convinced herself that you had to be straight. Maybe it was the way you fit in with the other girls, how they flocked around you like they were all in some effortlessly straight, picture-perfect group. Whatever it was, Paige felt certain you’d never look at her the way she looked at you.

So she let it go, or at least, she tried to. But you kept slipping into her thoughts, distracting her in that class, making her mind wander back to you when she least expected it. Her silly little crush on you lingered all through sophomore year, and even when summer rolled around, she found herself thinking of you every now and then, imagining what it might have been like to know you outside of that class.

Then junior year rolled around, and her whole world changed with that ACL tear. Benched for the season, her focus shifted in ways she never anticipated. Instead of charging down the court, she found herself sitting on the sidelines, watching, observing things she normally wouldn’t have noticed. And it was during one of those games, one of those long, frustrating nights when she just wanted to play, that she saw you again—this time, on the court as one of the cheerleaders.

At first, she couldn’t believe it. She actually had to blink a few times, like her brain was trying to catch up with what her eyes were seeing. This was her third year at UConn, and she hadn’t noticed you were a cheerleader ever. Maybe she really was just unobservant, but it truly shocked her. You looked completely different from how you did in class—more animated, more alive, like you were in your element. And when you started that long, impressive tumbling pass down the court, her jaw dropped. She didn’t even know you could do that, and it left her staring, heart hammering in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. (And maybe the tiny little uniform helped speed it up, too.)

From then on, Paige couldn’t keep her eyes off you during games. She’d always find herself watching you, wondering if you’d somehow feel her gaze, hoping that maybe, just once, you’d look her way. She spent so many games like that—sneaking glances, letting her mind wander, imagining what it might be like to finally work up the nerve to talk to you. But game after game, you never seemed to notice her, too focused on your routines, your teammates, and the cheering crowd around you.

And Paige? She knew she was hopelessly stuck. She’d sit there on the sidelines, feeling ridiculous, pining after a girl she couldn’t even talk to, a girl she thought she’d never really have a chance with. It was her worst crush yet—the kind that left her feeling off-balance, stumbling over her own thoughts, trying to convince herself that it didn’t matter—and she’d never even spoken to you. But each time she saw you out there, smiling, moving with that same effortless grace, she’d feel that same pull, that same quiet, persistent ache.

It’s senior year now, and Paige has one thing on her mind: basketball. It’s been more than a year since she’s played, and she’s determined to make this season count. All summer, she told herself the same thing over and over: Stay focused. Don’t get distracted. No more drifting thoughts, no more daydreams, and absolutely no more pointless crushes on girls she can’t have. And especially no crushes on you.

You, the cheerleader she’d spent too many junior year games staring at from the sidelines. You, the girl she still thought about when her mind wandered late at night, even though she knew better. No, this year, she was locking in. She’d worked too hard, too long, to let her head get all twisted up over you again. She was here to play basketball, not to chase after some unattainable crush.

But as she jogs onto the court for warm-ups, trying to ignore the butterflies that come with her first game back, her eyes somehow find you anyway. Just like they always do. And it’s like no time has passed at all. You’re laughing with the other cheerleaders, your hair perfectly styled in a half-up-half-down, a bow nestled in it, your uniform hugging you just right. The lights catch on your skin, giving you this soft glow, and your smile—God, that smile, so open and sweet and painfully distracting—has her heart skipping a beat before she even realizes it. Paige quickly snaps her eyes away, reminding herself she’s here to play, not to get lost in some imaginary world where she has a chance with you. This is her first game back, and even if it’s just an exhibition against Dayton, she’s got to make it count.

With a deep breath, she manages to brush you off. The pregame excitement kicks in, and her focus sharpens as the game begins. And it’s everything she’s been waiting for—the sounds of the court, the rush of the crowd, the thrill of moving with the ball in her hands again. She’s finally back, and for the first quarter, she’s locked in, feeling the rhythm of the game, feeling unstoppable.

Then it happens. KK makes a bad pass, and Paige is already in motion, chasing down the ball to save it from going out of bounds. She dives, stretching to reach it, but it’s just out of reach. Before she can stop herself, she’s crashing full speed into the sidelines—right into the cheerleaders.

Right into you.

The impact is quick and jarring, and she scrambles to her feet as fast as she can, heart hammering in her chest. She’s prepared to rattle off an apology when she realizes who she’s just barreled into. You’re significantly smaller than her, and her stomach drops as she takes in your wide eyes and the faint wince that flickers across your face. But you handle it with the same grace she’d always admired from afar, waving her off with a laugh and saying, “It’s fine! You’re good!” Your smile is easy, casual, and she’s even more mortified by how sweet you’re being about it.

She tries to apologize again, but you’re already brushing it off with that smile, and she feels her face heating up as she mumbles something unintelligible before hurrying back onto the court. But now her head’s a mess, all her carefully built-up focus gone, replaced by the embarrassing replay of what just happened. She tells herself to get it together, but it’s no use. Her mind keeps drifting back to the look on your face, to the sound of your laugh, to the softness in your smile when you waved her off.

The rest of the game passes in a frustrating blur. She’s off her rhythm, missing open shots she’d normally sink with ease, getting caught in rotations she usually anticipates. By the end, she’s only scored eight points—a painfully low number, especially for her—and she feels the weight of it like a stone in her stomach. She should be thinking about the game, her missed shots, how to get her focus back. But as she sits on the bench, watching the last few minutes tick away, all she can think about is you standing there, laughing off her clumsy collision, looking up at her with that easy, unbothered smile.

So much for not getting distracted.

After the game, Paige is still kicking herself over how sloppy her performance was. She lingers in the locker room, hoping to avoid any unwanted run-ins. But finally, when she’s convinced she’s given it enough time for everyone to clear out, she heads out into the quiet halls of Gampel Pavilion.

Except, of course, her luck isn’t that great. Just as she’s walking out, she spots you—still in your cheer uniform but with a UConn sweatshirt thrown over it, heading down the hall, cheer bag on your back. Her first instinct is to turn around, bolt back into the locker room, and hope to avoid any more humiliation, but it’s already too late. You look up, and your eyes meet, and suddenly she’s frozen in place, panicking because she’s actually staring straight into your eyes.

And then you smile at her. That smile, the one that sends her brain into a meltdown every time. But it’s so much worse now because your smile is directed at her. And, suddenly, you’re walking up to her and saying, “Hey, good game tonight,” and Paige is pretty sure her heart has stopped.

She tries to seem casual, to play it cool, but all she can manage is a shrug and a half-hearted, “Eh, wasn’t my best.” She’s hoping you don’t notice her stutter, but her cheeks are burning, giving her away.

You just wave it off, your dimple showing as you grin up at her. “Nah, this was just your warm-up. You haven’t played in, like, over a year. Next game you’ll drop thirty.”

Paige blinks, and the fact that you know she’s good at basketball—even though everyone knows she’s good at basketball—is enough to send her into a coma, she thinks. “Oh, gosh,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, struggling to find words. “Gonna have to now, just for you.” The second it’s out of her mouth, she mentally facepalms. That totally sounds like she’s trying to flirt with you.

But you just laugh, eyes crinkling as you look at her, completely unfazed. “I’ll hold you to it,” you say, and that smile doesn’t waver.

There’s a pause, and Paige knows this is where you’re about to say goodbye, and she panics because, after two years of thinking and practically obsessing over you, she’s finally talking to you, and it feels too short, too fleeting. Before she can second-guess herself, she blurts, “Oh—uh, hey, about earlier… when I ran into you. I’m… really sorry about that.”

You shake your head, smiling even wider, brushing it off with an easy laugh. “Don’t worry about it. Happens all the time; more than you’d think.”

There’s something so casual and warm about the way you say it, and she feels herself relax a little, caught up in the fact that you’re looking right at her, not at all bothered, almost… endeared? And for some reason, seeing your dimpled smile has her stammering like she’s never done before.

“So… uh…” Paige stumbles, her words failing, her confidence gone. “Are you, um, going to Ted’s tonight?” She bites her lip the moment it’s out, but she presses on. “You know, a lot of people go there after the first game—it’s kinda, like, a…thing. Which, y’know, I guess you probably already know about because… you’re, like, not a freshman…” She sounds so stupid. God.

You tilt your head slightly, considering, before you smile at her again. “I wasn’t really planning on going, but…” You pause, looking at her with a bit of a spark in your eyes, and for a second, she feels like she might actually combust. “Should I?”

Paige’s eyes widen, and she’s nodding before she can stop herself. “Y-yes! I—I think you’d have a good time.” She mentally scolds herself for the stutter, but you’re just nodding, still smiling, still looking so effortlessly at ease while she’s a nervous mess.

You laugh softly, a sound she’s sure she’ll replay in her head all night, and say, “Alright. I’ll think about it. And if I do decide to go, I’ll see you there, Bueckers.”

And with one last smile, you turn and walk away, leaving her standing there in shock, her heart racing and her mind replaying every word you just said. She’s tempted to pinch herself, convinced this has to be some elaborate daydream because there’s no way she actually just talked to you.

She doesn’t move for a long moment, replaying the way you said her name, the sound of your laugh, and the chance that she might actually see you tonight.

IT’S LATER in the night at Ted’s, and Paige is doing her best to stay composed, talking with one of the guys from the men’s team. Dirty Shirley in hand, she’s feeling just the faintest buzz, not enough to loosen her grip on reality but just enough to feel the edges of her confidence soften. She’s nodding along to something the guy’s saying when, over his shoulder, she spots you walking in.

Paige’s attention falters as she takes you in. You’re in baggy jeans that hang low on your hips, and a leather tube top that clings in all the right places, dipping enough to make her gaze lower slightly. She can barely tear her gaze away as you head over to the bar with a couple of friends, both of whom Paige recognizes from the cheer team. You’re laughing, leaning into one of them, completely at ease, and she can’t stop watching.

She realizes she’s staring a little too long, so she quickly excuses herself, not to talk to you—God, no, she can’t even think straight around you—but to hide by her teammates before she does something stupid. Her teammates notice her the moment she approaches, grinning as they watch her flustered expression.

“You see who just walked in, P?” Azzi teases, nudging her.

Paige groans, cheeks burning. “Don’t start.”

But they’re all laughing, and Ice is elbowing KK with a smirk. Nika, who’s been listening with a barely disguised grin, rolls her eyes. “Okay, this is ridiculous. You’ve had a crush on this girl since, like, forever. Go talk to her.”

“Are you kidding? I can’t. She’s—” Paige doesn’t even finish the sentence, glancing over her shoulder just in time to see you at the bar, waiting for your drink. She’d be lying if she said her confidence hadn’t evaporated the moment you walked in, looking like that.

“Girl boo,” KK sighs dramatically, before grabbing Paige’s wrist and dragging her toward the bar. Paige stumbles after her, mumbling weak protests, but KK is determined, practically hauling her across the crowded floor until they’re standing right next to you. KK orders a Sprite, leaning casually on the bar and glancing over at you with a grin. “Hey, girly pop! You cheer, right?”

You smile, looking more at Paige than at KK, and Paige’s heart thuds against her ribs. “Yeah, I do,” you say, introducing yourself and holding out a hand to KK, but your gaze flickers right back to Paige, who’s half-hiding behind her friend, cheeks pink and looking slightly caught. “Hi, Paige.”

Paige’s voice comes out a little sheepish. “Hey.”

KK smirks, clearly satisfied, and gives Paige a quick wink before excusing herself, leaving Paige standing there alone with you.

There’s a beat of awkward silence as Paige shifts on her feet, trying to keep herself from looking like an idiot, which is hard considering how aware she is of every single thing about you—your posture, your smile, the way you’re leaning in just close enough that she can catch a faint hint of your perfume.

“So,” Paige says, trying for casual. “You glad you came?”

You tilt your head, your lips quirking up. “Hmm, not sure yet. I’m not too impressed so far.”

She nods, stifling a wince, feeling more awkward than she can ever remember. And yet, her mind’s racing, urging her to just go for it, because this is her moment. She’s Paige Bueckers—she’s supposed to be confident. She always is. Besides, if you’re not interested, at least she’ll know. And if you are…

She hesitates, then swallows, trying to keep her voice steady as she says, “Um… can I buy you a drink?”

There’s a flicker of something in your eyes—maybe amusement, maybe surprise—and she’s mentally bracing herself for you to say no when you glance at the bar and say, “Actually, I just ordered one.” Her heart sinks a little, but she forces a smile, trying to play it off. Of course you’re not interested; she should have known better—

Then you’re leaning closer, nudging her elbow with yours, and you smirk, your voice soft and playful. “But you can buy my next one, if you want.”

Paige’s brain short-circuits as your words settle in, her mouth going dry as she realizes what you just said. “Uh, y-yeah, totally,” she manages, trying to keep from looking as giddy as she feels. “I…I’d love to.”

Your smirk turns into a grin, and you’re looking at her like she’s the only person in the room. She’s trying to come up with something smooth to say when, suddenly, one of your friends pops ups beside you and Paige, tugging on your arm, pulling you off the barstool and towards the crowd with a teasing, “Come on!”

Paige opens her mouth to protest, but before she knows it, you’re being swallowed up into the throng of people—not before you send her a quick, apologetic look over your shoulder, your friend still dragging you. Paige frowns, a little disappointed, but quickly catches herself. It’s fine, she thinks, though a twinge of regret lingers. She pushes it aside, grabbing her drink from the bar and returning back to her table, telling herself to focus on celebrating. She’s finally back on the court, and after such a long, difficult recovery, tonight is meant to be about unwinding. So she does, letting her team hype her up as they cheer and clink their drinks in her honor, pulling her deeper into the night.

As the time passes, Paige’s frustration eases, replaced by a warm buzz that dulls everything except the elation of being surrounded by her friends. But even as she sips her drink, she can’t help but think about where you’ve disappeared to, if you’re still here, still laughing with your friends somewhere across the bar. She finds herself scanning the crowd more than once, looking for a glimpse of you. She tries to push it down, laugh it off with another round, but every time she looks around, her gaze seems to search for you.

Eventually, the heat of the crowded bar gets to her. She feels flushed, dizzy from the alcohol and the mass of people, so she slips out the back door for some air. The cool breeze hits her face, and she closes her eyes for a second, sighing as the sounds of the bar fade behind her. She barely has a moment to herself before she notices a figure sitting just a few feet away.

It’s you, sitting on the curb, looking down at your hands as if lost in thought. Paige blinks, unsure if she’s seeing things. But then you look up at the sound of the door closing and smile, that familiar, gentle smile that makes her heart stutter. You seem just as surprised to see her, but your expression softens, like you’re genuinely happy she’s there. And that’s all the encouragement Paige needs.

“You care if I join?” she asks, trying to sound casual, even though her heart’s racing.

“Not at all,” you reply, and she takes a seat beside you, a bit closer than she planned. She feels your warmth even in the night air, and it makes her head spin in a way she can’t blame on the alcohol.

There’s a pause, a comfortable silence stretching between you. Paige watches as you draw patterns in the gravel with your fingers, the lights from the bar casting a soft glow over your face. She swallows, summoning up the nerve to say something—anything that might keep you sitting here with her.

“Why you out here?” she starts, genuinely curious.

You shrug, glancing back toward the bar. “Got a little claustrophobic in there,” you say, voice soft.

“Yeah… me too,” Paige nods, grateful for the fresh air and this quiet moment with you. The silence returns, but this time, it’s charged, heavy with something she can’t quite put into words.

Finally, Paige finds her voice again, her words slipping out before she can think them over. “You’re a good cheerleader, y’know. You do all those flips and shit—it’s impressive.”

You let out a small laugh, looking away for a second as if flattered. Paige is almost certain she sees a faint blush on your cheeks, and the sight makes her smile a little, lips curving upward. “Didn’t know you really paid attention to the cheerleaders,” you respond, teasing.

Paige scoffs, shrugging as if it isn’t a big deal, even though she feels like she’s been caught in some sort of confession—which, she kinda has. “Well, I did sit out for a year, so… I had to find something to watch.”

You tilt your head, smirking as you ask, “So you chose to watch me?”

Paige’s cheeks warm, and she silently thanks the alcohol for the courage that lets her meet your gaze. “Yeah,” she murmurs, watching as you look away, biting your lip as if trying to hide a smile. The sight makes her heart skip in a way that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

After a moment, Paige adds, “I think we… had a class together, couple years ago?”

You nod, eyes lighting up at the memory. “Yeah, we did. Sociology, right?” you reaffirm, nodding in tandem with her. “’M surprised you remember that—you always seemed so disinterested.”

Paige nearly blanches, genuinely surprised you’d noticed her too. She didn’t think you’d have remembered her, much less noticed her back then. The notion gives her some of her usual confidence beck and she manages a chuckle, shaking her head and tilting it slightly toward you as she murmurs, “Ah, so you were watching me too, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but your smile betrays you as you nudge her shoulder. “Shut up,” you mutter, but the blush on your face doesn’t go unnoticed.

There’s another pause, the two of you sitting side by side in the quiet, both of you lingering on the edge of something unsaid. Finally, you break the silence, voice soft and hesitant. “How come you never said anything before?”

Paige swallows, the question catching her off guard. She doesn’t know how to answer without giving herself away, without admitting the way her stomach twists every time she sees you around campus. So instead, she asks, turning the question back on you, “How come you never did?”

You don’t seem to mind that she didn’t really give you an answer. Instead, you just shrug, looking down at your hands. “I don’t know… you make me kinda nervous.”

The confession makes Paige’s heart alight, feeling like it’s on fire and might spread throughout her whole body. She’s used to people being in awe of her for basketball, for her skills on the court. But hearing you say that you feel that way too, like she’s someone more than just her reputation, shakes her. Besides, you’ve always seemed so incredibly at ease around her, never even bothering to look her way. So, almost incredulously, she asks, “Why?”

You scoff, looking at her like she’s missing something obvious. “Um, because you’re Paige Bueckers. Basketball prodigy, campus celebrity.” You raise your eyebrows at her. “I think most people would be.”

Paige feels a rush of warmth at your words, the way you say her name like it means something special. She searches your face, feeling the air grow thick around you, heavy with something she couldn’t quite name. And maybe it’s the alcohol in her system, maybe it’s the way you’re looking at her like she’s somehow both intimidating and endearing at the same time, but she’s feeling bold. Bold enough to keep this conversation going, to see where this moment might lead.

She clears her throat, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, if it helps… you make me nervous.”

You laugh, a little breathless, clearly surprised. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Paige insists. “You ain’t see the way I stuttered around you earlier? Ion know, ma, you just kinda fuck with my head.”

She watches, grin widening, as you blush at her words, the color blooming across your cheeks. It’s addictive, seeing you react like that—because of her. She doesn’t even try to hide her amusement when you ask, gaze set out in front of you instead of on her, “Why would I fuck with your head?”

It’s a good question, one Paige asked herself for a long time. It never took her long to figure out the answer. Though, she’s a little nervous to explain herself.

And she gets even more nervous when your gaze slides back onto hers, your head turning towards her. Paige’s smile falters, just slightly, at the eye contact. It’s intense, the kind that feels like it’s holding the world still for a second. Paige’s heart is a drum in her chest, each beat vibrating through her veins. Her eyes slide across your face, your features, tracing the slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, the faint shimmer glitter swiped along your eyelids. She catalogues every detail as if she’s never going to get this close again—a very real possibility if she doesn’t up her game.

Finally, she leans in—just slightly—her voice low and steady as she answers you. “You got this positive energy that makes you just… stand out in front of a crowd. Big smile. Bright eyes. Mm, I just… like seeing that in people.”

The words settle in the space between you, warm and lingering. Paige hesitates, letting them wrap around you both before adding, her voice dipping lower, her boldness shooting upward, “And it doesn’t help that you’re too beautiful for your own good.”

You blush deeper this time, cheeks tinted more red than pink, and it makes Paige’s heart skip. She can’t help the way her lips twitch into a grin. She’s waited so long to see this—see you flustered because of her. It’s everything she imagined and more.

“Stop,” you protest, fighting a smile as you push at her hands, your tone not carrying any weight behind the word. Paige just laughs, soft and easy, catching your hand in hers before you can pull away. She lifts it slightly, letting her thumb brush over your knuckles as she murmurs, “Nah, really.”

It’s then that the air changes—shifting into something heavier. The space between the two of you is practically nonexistent at this point, your sides tucked right into each other. You’re staring at one another, and Paige can’t help it when her gaze flickers down to your lips, just for a second. But it turns out to be enough. Because then she sees your eyes dart to her mouth in return, lingering there. And that’s when Paige knows.

Still holding your hand, she locks her gaze on yours, her voice firm but soft when she repeats, “Really.”

It’s like that word unlocks something between you because suddenly you’re leaning in, and Paige is doing the same, her breath catching the moment your lips touch hers. It’s soft, tentative at first, like neither of you are quite sure if this is real. But then you press into her just slightly, and Paige swears the whole world tilts on its axis.

The kiss deepens, slow but deliberate, and Paige feels her whole body light up. Your lips are warm, soft, and you taste faintly of tequila and strawberry chapstick. It’s intoxicating, the way you move against her, gentle but with enough purpose to make her head spin. Paige’s hand slides up to cradle your jaw, her thumb brushing against your cheekbone.

Your fingers grab at her bicep, holding on like you don’t want to let go, and it sends a thrill through her. Paige’s lips part slightly, and when you follow, letting her slip her tongue into your mouth, it’s like a fire ignites somewhere deep inside her. The kiss isn’t frantic or messy—it’s unhurried, like the two of you have all the time in the world to explore this. She can feel the heat of your skin where her hand cups your face, and she wants to memorize every second, every sensation.

The way you tilt your head just a little, giving her more access, nearly undoes her. Paige tilts her own in response, deepening the kiss further, her fingers slipping from your jaw to the back of your neck. The touch is light, almost reverent, but the closeness makes her heart race.

Your other hand moves, grazing against her side before resting lightly on her hip. Paige’s stomach flips at the contact, her body leaning instinctively closer to yours. She swears she can feel the warmth of your breath between kisses, the subtle hitch when she nips at your bottom lip.

It’s slow, it’s sweet, but it’s intoxicating. Paige swears she’s never kissed anyone like this before, never felt this much just from simple lip-locking. When you pull back slightly—not breaking the kiss entirely, just catching your breath—she can’t help herself. She follows you instinctively, her mouth chasing yours in a way that feels both vulnerable and utterly fearless. You allow her to, tongues half entwined between your swollen lips.

When you finally part, Paige keeps close, her forehead gently pressing against yours, her hand still cradling your neck. Neither of you moves far, the space between you so small your breaths still mingle, soft and warm against each other’s lips. Paige’s eyes flutter open, but she doesn’t look away from you, her gaze locked on yours like you’re the only thing in the world that matters—which, right now, you might as well be.

Her voice comes out lower than she intends, husky and laced with something she can’t quite hide as she murmurs, “You gonna let me buy you that drink now?”

Your lips curve into a slow, easy grin, and Paige feels her chest tighten, her heart skipping a beat at the sight of it. You’re so close she can see the faint glimmer of mischief in your eyes, the way they soften as you look at her.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice soft but sure, “I’d like that.”

The way you say it, the way your smile widens just slightly after, makes Paige’s heart race all over again. She can’t help the small, satisfied smile that spreads across her face. Paige leans back just enough to take in the sight of you—your flushed cheeks, the way your hair’s slightly mussed, and that lingering, breathtaking smile she knows will haunt her in the best way.

“Good,” she murmurs, her thumb brushing your jaw lightly one last time before she pulls away completely, standing up and offering you her hand. When you take it, she holds on a little longer than necessary, leading you back into the bar, already planning how she’s going to keep you smiling for the rest of the night—and, hopefully, much longer afterwards.

[drabblejester]

Ratio, Sampo, Aventurine, Jing Yuan and Mr Reca overhead reader feels about them (basically reader has a crush on them)

how VARIOUS HSR GUYS would react to OVERHEARING YOU CONFESS!

requested by: anon :3

pairings: ratio, sampo, aventurine, jing yuan, and mr. reca x gn!reader

content warnings: none!!

comments: im devouring a pizza rn as of typing this. its so good.. this one is also in bulletted list bc i didnt get any specifications sorry my liege<3

AVENTURINE:

he overhears you talking on the phone in another room, probably to your friend. he isn’t one to eavesdrop but just this once…

he acts very calm about it, totally poker-faced to the point where you think he didn’t hear for WEEKS

until one night he asks you about it, and tells you to talk to him about it more later.

you fall asleep with him, and when you wake up, you tell him as promised!!

he still has to get used to people. y’know. liking him. so he’s a bit awkward for a while, but he warms up! sadly doesn’t soften up for a LONG while though

SAMPO:

he overhears you talking to an interviewer in belobog talking about a ‘handsome blue haired man’

first of all he is FLATTERED that someone in this cold world actually likes him. second of all he registers that someone likes him about 5 seconds later and panics a bit

truly, his whimsical and silly demeanor has captivated you! but it was meant to be for lying and getting away with things, not actual flirting. so he thinks he’s screwed

but he’s NOT screwed! he makes a plan to corner you later in the night to have a bit of banter, but you end up cornering him!!

you two talk for a bit, you talk about how cool and yummy he is. he says it back and you both end up having a great night! maybe a kiss or two persnaps…

DR. RATIO:

he accidentally peeks over your shoulder at your texts (god damn curiosity) and sees you panic texting someone about the Super Duper Hot Professor Man that just so happened to pass by you. and that’s now standing behind you.

now obviously you probably freak out because oh my gods thats the guy RIGHT BEHIND YOU. you turn around and stammer for a bit

sadly ratio just gives you a dirty look (not on purpose) and tells you to seek knowledge, not him. he winds up lecturing you about feelings and professionalism for a good 20 minutes

you go home and wind down for a bit to process the lecturing, and just hang out. you start to have some second thoughts about everything

until a nice little package arrives at your door, with a nice cooked meal and a note that’s a very passive aggressive way of saying ‘take care of yourself’

JING YUAN:

he overheard you gossiping with the guards, and nothing escapes his ears. he didn’t confront you about it right away of course, since he didn’t want to freak you out or anything

so instead, he just played the waiting game. he waited for weeks upon weeks, hearing all the thoughts you thought about him, and every little thing you tried to do to court him

and he’s flattered!! very flattered actually. he decides to eventually send a guard out with a hand written letter to you, simply saying to meet him at a restaurant he found out you frequented

you two meet there, talk for a bit, but not as a general and you. you talk like strangers but in the best way possible, getting to know even more about eachother!! you eat some yummy food and chitchat the night away

and eventually he brings you back to his place, settling you down with some tea and light snacks. maybe a few long-drawn stories to help you sleep. sadly (or thankfully) he ends up asleep before you, so you have extra time to admire him :3

MR. RECA:

he finds out through social media! you broke his ‘no recording in the studio’ rule, posted a blurry video somewhere, and went absolutely crazy over him in the caption

he’s upset that you broke his rule, but at the same time. thinks its interesting. he doesn’t do much else except revisit the post once more before meeting with you

you two meet up in his office, and he immediately brings up the post. of course you apologize so so hard about breaking the rules, but he waves it off!!

eventually the conversation ends up circling around to emotions (with a bit of help from memokeepering), and you spill all your thoughts and feelings right then and there. he’s slightly shocked, but it soon turns to a smile before politely telling you to leave his office

you’re definitely nervous, but it all fades away once you find out you’ve been casted in the main role alongside him! for better or for worse though, it’s a romance production. that asshole.

im fucking up this pizza rn my lieges its so yummy

[angelplummie]

TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS!

ART X TASHI X PATRICK X F!READER

part 1 part 2

this one is exposition and build up for the smut eventually! enjoy my princesses

tashi duncan stole from you.

in many ways, many times. the first was when she thrashed you in your very first college tennis tournament. you would always remember the sound she made, that war cry. it was like she had decapitated you or something. she stole victory from you that day.

then she did it again, and again, and again. every single time she played you, she beat you. you could annihilate everyone but her, crushed them all to dust. but she was the one person that would not be decimated. you didn’t speak off the court, didn’t look at each other twice in the halls of stanford. but she had this look on her face. this smug, knowing look. here to lose again? it said. and you weren’t some average joe shmoe tennis girl. you were really good. people that had no reason to bolster your ego had told you that, so you knew it to be true. you were fucking brilliant, and she had no right to look at you like you were dirt. you gave her a tough match, but still she looked at you like she knew she was going to win.

when asked about her, all you could say was “i hate that smug bitch.”

what she said about you you didn’t know, and not for lack of trying. you didn’t know if she even spoke of you at all. the thought made you angrier than when she beat you. once, when at the same party, she waved at you.“hi,” she said, and gave you that same i-just-beat-you look. she was taller than you, and craned her neck unnecessarily far to look at you. where did that stupid bitch get off?

she was this towering roadblock, the one thing stopping you from entering the upper echelons of tennis royalty. you had the fucking talent, you had put in the fucking time, you were so fucking good. but you weren’t stanfords sweetheart. you just weren’t. everyone knew you were good, but you weren’t the best.

from the matches you had watched, which was nearly all of them, you were the only person she played that gave her a run for her money. she didn’t sweat the way she did when she played you, the points were never so neck and neck. she should be threatened by you, and yet she looked at you like any other silly college floozy that was the best in her high school. tennis was your life, as much as it was hers. she stole your dignity in that way.

the next time she stole from you was patrick zweig. a sort of boyfriend, an in-between, getting there boyfriend. he could’ve been yours. you could’ve been happy together. but tashi duncan couldn’t have that.

you heard whispers about a night in a hotel room, a threesome, a twosome with a watcher, two guys jacking off on tashi duncan. they could deny, deny, deny, but whatever did or didn’t happen meant patrick zweig never returned your calls anymore. you could still recount the exact tonality and pacing of his answering machine message.

it was fine. it’s whatever. he wasn’t a forever boyfriend anyway.

but once a girl has sex with someone, she expects some degree of loyalty, some sort of goodbye. it wasn’t about him, he was cute, a good-not-great fuck, and never claimed to be serious about you. he didn’t matter. it was the fact she had him. together or not, she had him. he belonged to her. even after they broke up, everyone knew he never liked any of his other many girlfriends like he loved her. they used to walk around hand in hand, kiss, and it made you brim with jealousy. not because you gave any kind of fuck about him as a person, but because she got him instead of you. it was her. all her. she had stolen one more thing.

as time passed, your hatred burned just as bright. you practiced day in day out, hoping that somehow she could see you now, somehow she would know you were her equal.

then you met a boy. art donaldson.

you had known he was involved with her. the hotel threesome stories spared no details of the parties involved, despite factual discrepancies in other areas. but you figured, while she was dating his best friend, you were safe from the curse of tashi duncan. you allowed yourself to fall in love, softly, timidly. having met in american literature, you fostered a little spark. a love, barely the size of a candles flame, flickered in your chest. maybe, you had prayed. maybe him. maybe he was yours. you kissed at new years for the first time, and days later he met your parents. it was new, fresh, but it was love. you loved him.

and then she stole from you for the final time. in one foul swoop, she took everything from you.

it was the final of the college tournament. the two stanford angels playing each other for the victory. the court was red and packed, newly redone. you both wore white. whoever won this was guaranteed a shot at the open in the summer, and that was all you needed. you were so fucking ready. no one was better than you. no one. you had trained so hard, art could attest to it, hell, the entire school could attest to it. ask anyone who saw you around that time, they would’ve seen a scowl on your face and a racket on your back. those who had the pleasure of watching you play would’ve say it: you were fucking good.

that’s why it crushed you. across from her, at match point, advantage duncan, you watched as her knee moved independent from her leg. in between grunting and pelting, there was a crack, and tashi duncan was no more. a hush fell over the crowd as she cried, fell to the ground clutching her knee. you heard that. but you didn’t hear the ear splitting scream that came from your own mouth, couldn’t feel your body sprint, jump the net to crouch by her side. beads of perspiration rolled down her face, scrunched in agony. she bared her teeth like a cornered animal, and looked up at you through her squeezed eyes. her knee looked awful, so you stared at the rest of her. without thought you placed a hand on the top of her head. to comfort her you think.

it was so quiet. the only sound was her crying, her laboured breath stilling your heart to a lifeless thud.

“it’s ok,” you said,”you’re going to be ok, tashi.”

you remembered feeling an inexplicable sadness, a grief that you had never known before. you wanted to get rid of her pain, any and all of it. none of it came from you, you didn’t want her to have it. but that was so quickly forgotten. because as you moved to touch her shoulder with your shaking hand, it was eclipsed by another. a larger hand, the hand of a man. a pale hand. a hand you had touched before, even kissed. the hand of your man.

your eyes met, each with equal fear, horror and sadness. it was then that you knew that the curse of tashi duncan wouldn’t rest until you died. she would steal and steal and steal, even beyond the grave. he looked caught, because he was. he was caught. once you loved tashi you never stopped. he had raced into the court because she had fallen at a game he attended to watch you play, had touched her shoulder with the hand that had held you. he was not yours, as much as you needed him to be. his eyes twinkled with regret, but told you everything you needed to know.

your hand drew away with a flick, like it had given you an electric shock. you rose from tashis tortured body. his hand slipped to where yours had rested. this was all somehow not her fault, while being her fault entirely. you hated her so much it made your heart bleed. you didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. no whisper of her name, no nothing. from this moment on she was dead to you.

you didn’t bother looking over your shoulder to see if art was watching you leave. he wasn’t. the umpire boomed something through a mega phone, something like wait. but you were going home.

in the hall you bumped shoulders with patrick zweig. he was rushing to find her. he looked at you once to apologise hurriedly, twice to utter your name in recognition, and a third time to look at your back and wonder why you were so down. tashi was out. you won by default.

[runningthroughthegarden]

dumb young love

1.9k words, summary: when art leaves you in the dust for tashi, a part of you breaks. after an argument art realizes how desperately in love he is with you.

request from @fangirlinc :)

you had gone and done the one thing everyone had warned you not to do. you had fallen in love with your best friend. i mean how could you not? he was handsome, charming, talented, funny, everything you could want in a man and more. you both had such bright futures ahead of you and just loved being in each others company. which is why you never felt the need to profess your love to him. but lately you've been rethinking this choice. 

you obviously knew how close art and patrick were, i mean you guys all practically grew up with each other. this dynamic never really bothered you, why would it? that all changed once tashi came into the picture. 

you had been there, at the match where it all started. you had come to support them like you always had, but within those few days something had shifted and you had no idea why. suddenly the boys were ditching you to go to a party you didn't even know they cared about. 

they had come back to you the next day, raving about how amazing tashi was and the night they spent together. you noticed a glint in art’s eye that wasn't there before, and you tried your hardest to suppress the jealousy you were feeling. 

that day, when patrick won the match, you couldn't help but feel relieved that art would remain yours just for a little longer. what you didn't realize is that art didnt care if patrick was with tashi, because he was still head over heels for her.

 

“hey are we gonna have dinner tonight?” you ask, throwing another tennis ball over the net.

“yeah, just gotta get back to my room and shower” art replies, hitting back the ball with a distraught look on his face. 

“is it tashi?” you sigh.

“what? no-no. i'm just stressed about my next match” he replies, walking over to the bench. 

“you're art donaldson. you’re never stressed about a match. c'mon just tell me” you say as you walk over to him. 

“its just. patrick called and all he can fucking talk about is how amazing tashi is. and then i walk around campus and all i hear is how amazing tashi is. no matter what i do i can’t escape her.” he confesses, putting his head in his hands.

“i can’t imagine you ever wanting to escape her” you reply, letting out a forced laugh. 

“what?” 

“cmon art, from the day you lost that match it’s like your entire world changed or something. i mean all of a sudden your whole life revolves around this girl” you scoff. 

“y/n i really don’t need this shit from you, i’ll see you later” he scoffs, picking up his bag and leaving the court. 

“art!” you call out, only for him to leave you there alone.

standing there you think back to when everything was fine. how art would link his pinky with yours as you walked. the way he would call you everyday when he had to travel for matches. the nights you spent in his dorm trying to cram week's worth of studying into one night. the way he would so effortlessly plant kisses to your forehead. the moments you thought he might actually be in love with you. but now all you had were those memories. 

 

before you knew it, all art was doing was hanging out and helping tashi train. he had been your training partner first, so it hurt like hell to be left in the dust. you decided to try and let it go and focus on winning your matches. your most important match was coming up and you couldn't let your silly love life get in the way. the one person you had always dreamed of being coached by was going to be at your match. so you knew you had to train like crazy to get to work with them. 

a part of you was hoping maybe art would see how amazing your match would be, and finally start paying attention to you again. but you knew you were holding onto false hope. 

 

the day of your match had finally come, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared. this was such an important moment for your career and you couldn't shake those nerves. but you knew seeing art up in the stands would give you the boost of confidence you needed. 

the first set was about to start and you still didn’t see art in the stands. you felt your heart skip a beat at the thought that he might not show up. he would never do that to you. right? 

the first set had started and for a moment, the world around you started to fade. you may have hated tashi, but man was she right about tennis. you were performing flawlessly and you knew all the hard work was finally going to pay off. 

after winning your first set, you go back to your seat, taking a breather and still scanning the crowd for art. he was still nowhere to be found and you could feel your sadness turning into anger. deciding to use that as fuel, you prepare yourself for your next set. the rest of the game goes flawlessly and you know this is the best you have ever played. 

hitting the winning point, you stand in shock as cheers come from the stands. thanking your opponent you can’t seem to wipe the smile off your face. that is until you spot art in the stands. you could feel all the anger and resentment you suppressed fighting to be released. this had been your best game yet, and there art was, to ruin it.

packing up your bag, you felt a presence behind you. all spectators and coaches were long gone so you knew exactly who was behind you. turning around to face art, you push past him not wanting to hear a word he has to say. 

“y/n please i-” art calls out, quickly catching up with you.

“you what art?!” you yell, turning around to face him.

“you forgot? you had homework? you lost track of time? oh better yet, maybe you were with tashi?” you continue, looking up at him. you could feel hot tears threatening to spill from your eyes. 

he stays silent and thats all the answer you need. 

“oh my god you were” you whisper, stepping back from him. 

“please just let me explain” art pleads, a look of desperation you’d never seen before. 

“today was the most important day to me. and i really thought that as my best friend you would at least care a little more. but i know where your priorities lay. and i'm done fighting for a spot i’ll never get” you say as tears quickly spill onto your cheeks. 

art’s hand reaches up to brush away your tears, but you step back. 

“stay the fuck away from me art” you choke out, quickly walking back to your room. 

 

the next few days were hell. spending each day crying in your bed, you had lost not only the love of your life but your best friend. you had gotten a call offering to be coached by someone you could only ever dream of working with. you should’ve felt happy, ecstatic even, but the last conversation you had with art was still ringing through your head. he had called you far too many times and texted you even more. but you had ignored every single one. the first day he came knocking on your door, but gave up after an hour of waiting. the apology flowers he had sent you sat on your desk. you had no idea what you were going to do. until, you got a text from patrick. 

patrick 

hi love, art told me about what happened im sorry. 

y/n

hi, you don’t have to apologize for him being stupid

patrick

do you want to hang out today? try to get your mind off of him

y/n 

actually i would love to

patrick 

meet me outside at 2

getting ready to see patrick was a highlight from these past few days. while you were enjoying your sulking you knew you had to get out at some point. going out to the courtyard, you see patrick sitting on a picnic blanket. your favorite foods and snacks were neatly laid next to him. you felt yourself genuinely smiling for the first time in a really long time. you spent the next hour eating your favorite meal and laughing at stupid shit with patrick. although your heart still hurt, you could feel your spirits rising. 

“thank you for this patrick, it’s all so lovely” you smile. 

“of course i’ll always be here for you” he gleams, pushing away the hair around your face and leaning in to kiss your forehead. 

“what the fuck?!” 

you would recognize that voice anywhere. 

“art what are you doing here?” patrick stands up to face him. 

“oh i dont know maybe i go to school here? what the fuck are you doing here patrick?!” he replies, getting closer to patrick. 

“seriously y/n? you run off to patrick?” he questions, obviously distraught but you can't seem to place why. 

“hey you don’t get to blame her for this” patrick replies. 

“oh fuck off patrick would you let her speak” 

grabbing arts hand, you quickly lead him away from the public spectacle this was all becoming. 

“what the hell is wrong with you art?” you yell, shutting your room door. 

“i mean, you completely forgot about me for some other girl and now you're mad at me? none of this makes sense, you broke my heart. you don't get to be angry.” you continue, feeling tears brim your eyes. 

he paces for a second, running his hands through the curls you missed so much. 

“im in love with you” he stops, looking down at you. 

it felt like you were dreaming, like you were imagining the words that just came out of his mouth. 

“i always have been. i've just been so stupid about it. when tashi came around i threw myself at her because i thought there was no way you would ever feel that way towards me. and i know i fucked up by doing that, i really really fucked up. but when i picture my life i see you, i've only ever seen you. and seeing you with patrick, i was scared i lost you. i'm sorry y/n, i really am. i would do anything to take it back.” he confesses. 

“you’re so stupid!” you yell, pushing his shoulders. 

“ive been in love with you for like, forever!” you look up at him, confused as to how he never realized. 

“really?” he asks, pure shock all over his face. 

“yes! i thought it was obvious” you frown. 

before you knew it he was holding your face in his hands, planting a kiss on your lips. in that moment everything felt right, like the stars had aligned. 

“y’know i'm still mad at you” you look up at him, placing your hands over his. 

“trust me, i will do everything to make it up to you. i'm just glad you're finally mine” he couldn’t seem to wipe the smile off his face as he kissed you again. 

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part two

400 words

one

It feels a bit silly that those two juvenile love notes have had the effect that they do, but Steve decides to give himself this. He has to tamp down his smile for the rest of the day. He thinks there’ll always be something weighing him down, but he feels a little lighter for the first time since he realized his interests aren't what they’re supposed to be. 

Steve’s shaken out of his thoughts when someone jostles his shoulders. He sucks in a sharp breath in surprise. 

“Harrington! Get your head out of the clouds, man. We got a game to play.”

Steve shoves his teammate away lightheartedly and turns back to what he was doing before he’d been distracted. Once his shoes are laced up, he follows the team out onto the court for the game.

And they lose. 

Perhaps the universe wanted to bring him back down to earth. 

It’s okay, he tells himself, I can take it. 

At practice the next morning, Coach works them hard for their loss last night. Steve doesn’t get a chance to excuse himself to go deliver his note. Instead, he slips out of the locker room while the rest of the guys are showering.

Just as he’s popped the note through the slits at the top of the locker, a voice calls out, “Steve?”

“Shit,” he hisses to himself. He shuffles a few feet to the side and slips into the bathroom just in time for Tommy to come swinging around the corner. A few moments later he follows Steve into the bathroom. 

“What are you doing?”

Steve looks up from where he’s washing his hands and raises a brow. “What does it look like I’m doing, Tommy?”

The boy’s face flushes pink and Steve looks away. This is one of the things he’s had to learn to not let his gaze linger on. It was hard those first few years in middle school, but he’s kinda over it now. 

Eddie your ring is really cool i mean, i’m never close enough to see what it actually is but i think it’s cool anyway have you thought about getting more? i think you should go big or go home, right? p.s. i hope you have a good time at your game tonight p.s.s. you won’t find me by glaring at everybody in the lunchroom it’s cute though -H

three

tag list (closed)

@sofadofax @noodle-shenaniganery @queenie-ofthe-void @friendlyneighborhoodgaycousin @devondespresso

@dreamingtheimpossibe @plutoshelm @jaywhohasthegay @scarlet-malfoy

sorry if i missed anyone!!

[caprisunnydays]

Stardew Valley x Reader Bachelor Headcanons

Alex

Before you and Alex got together, you probably became long time friends

He was def like "damn they hot" but then when it became more than just that he was like "DAMN THEY'RE HOT"

It's been a bit since he's felt those silly little butterflies, it genuinely makes him nervous

Que him leaning against a wall like "Hey bbg" but he's sweating bullets

After his confession, he feels much better, and the nervous air that only you could really pick up on has disappeared

Very PDA, arm is always around you, probably not in the back pocket but if he's tipsy enough then boom it appears

Insists on going in the mines with you but saw a slime and wanted to dip so bad but you protected him <3

"Heh...I totally wasn't scared. Don't worry babe I'll protect you" nah boy

He feels his heart melt every time he sees you and Evelyn baking together, or her just acting like your grandma

Even George has become a grandpa figure, giving advice with alex or general things

Alex is secretly insecure about himself, but with you, he finds room to grow as a person and find that those worries are unwarranted

Though he doesn't say it often, you make him feel seen, and he truly appreciates that

Elliot

(Personal fav right now so I'm about to go OFF)

If you picked romance for his book he's imagining you both as the main characters

Not a complete parallel because he's like "can't be creepy" but a teensy bit

Speaking of "can't be creepy" he has written multiple sonnets about you since realizing his feelings

Unlike some of the other bachelors, he embraces his feelings more, using his passion to inspire his writing and other endeavors

Heavy on the gifts and courting stuff

Gives you love poems at least once a week he has so many piled up but he doesn't wanna go overboard

Says the sappiest things all the time with this love struck look in his eyes

PRETTIEST MANNNNN

Words of affirmation kinda guy, he's poetic like that

Leah pokes at him for being a simp but mans could not care less he's proud

Picks out pretty sea shells that wash up on the shore and gives them to you, and they're always intact!

Big fan of the flower dance and looks forward to getting to dance with you in front of the entire town! maybe your worst nightmare but he's just happy to show you off (and his dancing skills lol)

Speaking of which, mans is gonna teach you how to waltz and a bunch of other old timey dances

At some point he WILL show up in the pouring rain to profess his love, or give you flowers, or both

You're like "Elliot we're literally dating was this necessary and he's like "OF COURSE MY DEAR"

He'd love heartstopper

Harvey

Insert too sweet by Hozier

Silly little doctor guy tries to avoid you but can't help but be drawn to you

He sees you running around doing your daily tasks, and just watches you from afar from the window of the doctor's office

Maru notices and tells you to come in sometime cuz her boss ain't gonna get nowhere by himself

When you start coming in more often he can feel himself die of embarrassment when he fails to make interesting conversation

Is very worried about your health though and fusses when you pass out in the mines/street

He gets even more adamant about you taking care of yourself once he's confessed

Way less nervous though!

Looks at you with adoration eyes when you do anything

Tipsy Harvey is a cute Harvey because he starts spilling his guts on how often he thinks of you

Whenever you're not busy with work he appreciates you stopping by the office, just to talk about both of your days

He yaps to everyone about you btw

Doesn't mean to but when someone brings you up he's like "oh yes me and my partner love to-" or "my partner loves-" etc etc

I used to not be a fan but he's such a sweetiepie

Sam

"I just love a guy who plays guitar <3" - u @Sam

That's it

I JEST

Originally he's like "hey come and hang out with me, Sebastian, and Abigail"

Then you start coming over and it's just you both alone

He's not creepy about it, just wants to spend time with you one on one

Loves showing you the songs he works on and if you want he'll show you how to play guitar too!

He's also happy with how well you get along with Jodi, always trying to get you both to bond, it makes him feel nice that you feel like you're apart of the family

Once y'all are together he does sneak you in anytime he gets the chance

He'll text you like "come over" You : I've gotta be up at 6am Him : "PLZPLZPLZPLZ-"

OG golden retriever bf

You both go shopping at Joja at 3am for fun and goof off

Or go run around in the forest taking aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos

Sebastian

You can't tell me he's not an arctic monkeys kinda guy so insert R U Mine? By Arctic Monkeys

It took him time to warm up to you

When he did you became one of the few people he could hang out with after a long day of socializing and not feel drained around

I can see him doing things that aren't always super platonic and thinking he wants to do them because

"Platonically" holding your hand, cuddling, etc

At town events he stands all close to you, complaining about how much he hates it, but showing disappointment when you mention leaving

Everyone's like are y'all dating and he goes NO way too fast

When you both finally ARE together though he's actually much less affectionate and public, but it doubles when you're in the comfort of his basement room

Finds the most joy in keeping you trapped in his bed with him until noon when you say you should be working on your farm

Especially in the colder months, then you can also share his mom's pumpkin soup

He's almost catlike with his affection

Another guy you run around and take aesthetically pleasing pintrest photos with, but his are more grunge esk

"Accidentally" leaves his hoodies at your place but he likes seeing you in em

I imagine that the characters have those closets filled with the same outfit, so when you try and give him his stuff back he goes "nah" and whips out his 100th hoodie

Shane

PACK IT UP SAVIOUR COMPLEX I mean what who said that

After you rescue him from the depths of his depressive alcoholism, he feels guilty for having feelings for you

Part of it is because he's like "fuck do I actually like them or is it just cuz they basically saved my life" and partly because it feels painfully stereotypical

Not a lot changes, though he is a lot more open to you then he is with other people, even with Marnie

Helps out with your chickens when he has free time

Talks to them about his problems and once you almost walked in on him ranting about his feelings for you (bro was shook)

But once he's confessed, well, he's still insecure about some things, but accepts your help with stride

Jealous easily, but tries not to show it

Acts of service kinda guy, so if you need him to run an errand while you're swamped with farm work? He's on it

Pulls up to your farm with a bunch of snacks and a bag full of movies for you to pick from

He sets it up while you take a shower to wash all the grime and dirt off from a days work so you can just come and cozy up on the couch with him

You're also basically besties with Jas, such a sweet girl, always asks you to play jump rope with her

You both go "say no to drugs" to her l o l

Marnie is also now your bestie so even when she's not working you can get stuff from the shop #WIN

I loooooove stardew valley it's so cool so great

[blimpintime]

a jar of wind part one

Wynnie Lara is a fairy that was saved from a jar from Amarantha's reign of terror, but is soon figuring out that her time of peace is coming to a end.

warnings: angst, azriel sucks :p and unedited

word count: 1.4k

eventual Eris x OC

“Rhys! You will never believe what I managed to do with my-” I bursted into the kitchen with a warm glow, my green dress flowing around me and headed towards where he was sitting with a cup of tea.

“Wynn, I have been up with Nyx for the past three nights and days with him teething. I would love some silence. Please.” He said with a low voice and eyes closed in annoyance. 

“Oh! Right, yes. Sorry.” I wince, I twirl my finger and use the wind to brush through the mellow sounding wind chimes I have placed around the River House. 

The tension seemed to leave his body, and I placed a sisterly kiss on the top of his head, my ginger bobbed hair layering over his black hair. In doing so I managed to remove the growing headache from him and take it on for myself.

“I didn’t ask you to do that, Wynn.” He said softly.

“I know, but that’s what family is for Rhys.” I respond with a light touch on his shoulder and whisper words of encouragement as I leave. 

As I walked out of the River House where the sun is setting, I ran into Azriel and Cassian. I smile and my subtle pink glow brightens.

“Hello you two!” I say with a wave and notice the grimm look on their body language and my face falls and my glow dims. “What happened, who's hurt?” 

Cassian winces and Azriel gives me a sharp look, “Stay out of it Wynn. You do enough damage as is.” 

I flinch back and the wind around me goes cold, “What is that supposed to mean?” 

He walks closer to me and leans over to get in my face, “It means that whatever magical experiment you tried this time back fired and hurt Elain.”

“What are you talking about?” I whisper back. My mind reels trying to remember if I left a magic trial unattended in the open, but I draw a blank. Unless… 

“She snuck into my cottage?” I question brows furrowing. There was only one trial I left at my house and that was my attempt of getting my wind to play instruments on its own, but wind is finicky and if interrupted incorrectly can cause a spiral of sharp and messy wind.

“Snuck? Wynn, you let everyone into your home all the time, there was no reason to lock your doors.” Cassian responded. I go hot with anger. 

“So just because I host all the time means my house is fair game? There are wards around it for a reason when I am not home. If that is your logic here then allow me to go into your guys home whenever I feel and do what I please.” I snap back.

“You’re being unreasonable Wynn.” Azriel says while rolling his eyes. “It was just Elain. She is harmless.” 

“I do not care who it was Azriel, it is my home. What did she need from me anyway? I just saw her this morning.” I ask him and he storms by me to go inside the house. Cassian and I follow him.

“Rhysand!” Azriel yells. Rhys walks out of the kitchen looking a little better than he did before. 

“Why are we yelling?” He asks.

“Wynn has caused more damage to this court.” Azriel says and I wince back. Rhys turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. 

I raise my hands in defense.

“Wynn, was it another silly experiment?” Rhys asks. My heart tugs and I nod, and I feel as though I should defend myself. They’re not silly, they are fun.

“Did I do something to personally offend you Azriel?” I ask softly. 

“Yes! Since you’ve shown up to this court all you have done have been attached to the hip with Feyre, surprised she hasn’t told you that you are suffocating. You’re nothing more than an annoying weed.” He spat, “You buzz in and out loudly all the time, you cannot read a room to save your life, your experiments are juvenile and lack actual use, and whenever you shrink down to your pixie form is the only time you're tolerable because we can barely hear you.” He said like a weight has been lifted off his chest. 

I can only stare at him, shock and hurt cover my face. The glow of pink on my body fades down to a low humming blue, and suddenly I am back in that damn jar. 

The jar I am in is hot and stuffy. I do not remember how I got here but I do understand that this is cursed glass and I won’t be able to be let out unless the lid is opened by the one who placed the curse or is killed. 

The jar sits in the middle of a long dinner table as decor, with being alive I always have a glow to me. When I am neutral and healthy it's normally pinkish orange, right now it’s bluish purple relating to my mood and terror. It hasn’t changed in the past decade of being here.

Being small and trapped in a jar and treated as entertainment by those who are desperate to feel power again is something I would never wish upon anybody. They like to cover the oxygen holes on the top and force me to dance or create wind art. Which is borderline impossible with the lack of airflow in here anyway.

“Tell me pretty, what other colors can you turn?”

“Az-” Cassian whispered.

“Fuck you Azriel. You know why I don’t go into that size very often and you of all people should understand why.” I spit at him, and he for just a moment looks guilty. 

“What? You all say this behind her back anyway. Now that I tell her to her face it’s a problem?” He looks at his two brothers. And they both won’t look me in the eye.

“Is that true?” I choke out with silent tears running down my face. Rhys looks at me and takes a breath, “There could have been more tact to how we said this but to put it bluntly yes.”

My wispy iridescent wings pop out of my back. And I start walking backwards towards the door, “I will see myself out then.” 

“Wynn, wait please let's discuss this more maturely.” Rhys says. Azriel scoffs in the background. 

“If it wasn’t for her, Elain wouldn’t be hurt again.” I flinch again feeling sick to my stomach. 

“I am sorry.” I choke out. Cassian reaches for me and I step back curling into myself feeling betrayed by those I called family. 

“No, that was completely uncalled for.” A new voice responds. I turn around to say Nesta and Elain. I look over Elain and all I notice is a few wind burns on her arms. She gives me a soft smile and I look down with a frown.

“Azriel, what is the actual problem here? Because I am fine. I went into her cottage because I forgot my tea recipe book there and completely forgot she was running an experiment.” Elain comes up to me softly and puts her hand on my shoulder. I lean into her warmth. Nesta stares at him with a cold hard glare. 

“He’s jealous.” She observes. Azriel looks shocked for just a moment before he stalks closer into Nesta’s face. To which signals me and Elain to step back and Cassian to intervene. 

“Enough.” Rhys says rubbing his temples again. “Azriel you were out of line with the way you approached this situation and Wynn maybe just be a little less, you.” 

All three girls flinch with the wording. 

“Have you lost your fucking mind Rhysand?” Nesta barks. “Wait until I tell Feyre.” 

By the time the two of them are arguing I shrink down to my pixie size and fly home to my cottage. I arrive at the front stoop back to normal size, and burst into tears against my front door barely making it inside before I collapse into a pile on the floor. 

In a panic I start shoving some of my emergency belongings in a satchel; clothes, my hygiene products, and my magic trials notebook. 

Frantically rushing around my small cottage I see a teacup Elain painted for me, with little orange and pink flowers all over it. I wrap it in one of my shirts and stuff it into my satchel.

By now the sun has completely set, and I take off my porch, my holographic wings sparkling in the moonlight and head towards some place I know will bring me some comfort. 

The Autumn Court. 

a/n: please enjoy! I have been thinking about this idea for a while! Leave comments, like, and share. if you have any questions plz let me know!

I do not own any of the characters that Sarah J Mass has created. but I do own miss Wynnie Lara :p

[bueckers-sturniolo]

the alchemy.

paige x fem!teammate! reader

word count: 2k!

warnings: uhhh, cursing? literally one suggestive-ish comment, if i think of anymore ill come back and lyk!

authors note: HIIII! this is my first time ever writing anything whatsoever, and i can’t tell if i genuinely enjoy or really hate this. you gotta start somewhere though, right? 🤔🤔🤔

go read part two here!

this happens once every few lifetimes; these chemicals hit me like white wine…

you and paige were inseparable. it didn’t go unnoticed by fans, not by any means. you were a year younger than paige, you started playing for uconn her sophomore year. as soon as this was announced, paige followed you on everything, immediately commenting on any post the uconn instagram page made about you, commenting something along the lines of just saying your name in all caps with a bunch of emojis, or even, when she was feeling bold, “Theres our girl! 🤩🙌 (or, ‘my girl’ if she was feeling silly that day),” and even on your own, individual posts about yourself, she’d like and comment some form of encouragement or a subtle compliment just to hype you up, as she does the rest of the team.

she couldn’t deny her nearly unbearable attraction toward the minute she first had laid eyes on you. even if it was over a tiny screen. the first time she saw you was when geno had shown the team videos of you playing and explained to them who you are, where you’re from, what position you play, and all other things they should know. you were around 5’10, and you were a point guard. you had gotten a scholarship to uconn, and obviously, you took it up. the first time paige physically saw you play, she knew you two would become close. not only working together on the court, during games and practices, but also, off of the court.

and you guys did. by the time the season started, you were sure you guys were unstoppable. every practice, you guys were fully locked in, becoming an outstanding duo together. that is, until, she got a tibial plateau fracture. she sat out a whopping 19 games after her surgery, and it was sad to see. she was such a powerful player, and now one of your best friends. games and practices didn’t feel nearly as good without her, but she made you promise that you’d work everyday to improve your already very strong talent, to play for ‘the both of you,’ as she said. she’d come to practices, games, and even just to your personal training sessions to provide some form of support.

what if I told you I’m back? the hospital was a drag, worst sleep that I ever had, I circled you on a map; I havent come around in so long, but im coming back so strong.

as soon as paige was cleared by doctors to begin playing again, she worked several hours, every single day. she came back as a fucking beast. since the day she got cleared and started working her ass off, she earned the nickname ‘sniper’ from you. your nickname for her was ‘killer,’ which, is kinda where she got the idea for sniper. you both were very powerful point guards. every day since she came back, you were amazed by just how hard she was working to get back up to her already impressive level of skill. and as time went on, she got even better than before. from the wise words of your guys’ coach, geno, she literally ‘came back better than she was when she was named player of the year.’

so when I touch down, call the amateurs and cut ‘em from the team, ditch the clowns, get the crown. baby, im the one to beat. cause the sign on your heart said it’s still reserved for me. honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?

one night, after a practice, you guys are sitting on your couch, scrolling on your phones in the living room of your apartment. she was over there often. you didn’t live in a dorm, but she did, so this is where you typically hung out. you didn’t get a dorm, for mainly one reason, living on campus is expensive. you personally thought that if you were gonna pay so much to live somewhere, might as well be somewhere bigger than the dorms at uconn. your parents somehow agreed, and helped you through paying for it your first few years. you’re now a junior, and paige is a senior. though, she was technically going into her junior year of playing basketball, but it was her last year as a uconn ‘student.’ over the past several months, it’s been…. flirty, to say the least. you’ve always been not ‘just friends,’ but, you never talked about it. it was just ‘normal’ to you guys. you had talked about to kk once, and the conversation didn’t really help. at all. not in the fucking slightest.

“well, i mean… yeah, we all notice it. she just…. acts so different around you…? it’s not a bad difference, per se… it’s just like, why the fuck is she so nice to you? she’s constantly like… on her knees praising you. it’s crazy, lowkey. but none of us wanna say that, so we kinda just have accepted it all season.” kk says, finally looking up from her phone at me, sitting on the edge of her bed, giving her a ‘please help me’ look.

i stare at her for a few seconds, then sigh. is it actually different? does she really do that, or is kk just exaggerating, like she always does?

“kk, i don’t- i don’t know, dude. i don’t notice it. it’s just- like-“ kk interrupts me, knowing i couldn’t find the words to explain what i was feeling, “normal to you?”

i nod, putting my face in my hands and letting out another sigh. “yeah, i get that. but, also… like, how do you not notice it? it’s like- remember that guy she said she had a crush on, like- 7 months ago or some shit?” she said, sighing.

“yeah, why?” i say, my eyebrows furrowing in confusion on where the fuck she could possibly be going with this.

“she literally flirted with you more than she flirted with him. then, she rejected him, and said there was ‘no reason behind it….’ is that not suspiscious to you? in that one picture of you guys and the weird ass dude she apparently liked, she’s leaning closer to you than she is him? does that not even slightly spark a tad bit of suspiscion?” kk says, getting frustrated that im not seeing her point here.

“i mean- no? i didn’t even notice it, kk.” I say, shaking my head in disbelief. “exactly my point,” kk says, sitting up to really try to get her point across. “she acts like she’s in love with you, and heaven forbid you notice it even slightly. i could name so many things that just, like- we have all noticed, and paige knows we’ve noticed. like, that time that one bitch was pushing you on the court the entire game, and paige eventually got pissed off and pushed her back off of you, then got a fucking technical foul over it…? or, how about when she gets drunk, she literally is all over you. like, hugging you, holding you, falling asleep on the couch with you literally on top of her? is that not somehow making you just use that little brain in your head?” kk says, and i just stare in thought. maybe she was right. maybe it is more than a close friendship.

you snap out of your thoughts as paige says your name, looking over at her. “yeah?” you say, trying to seem cool.

“are you okay? you just spaced out for like…. 10 minutes…” paige says, turning her phone off sitting her it down on her chest. “oh, yeah,” I say, chuckling. that’s fucking embarrassing, you thought. but why wouldn’t she notice it? she notices everything about you.

“y’know… you did really good today,” paige says smiling at you. you smile too, looking down at your hands, “thanks. you literally always do good, so. no point in boosting your ego any more than it already is.” you say, looking back up to meet her gaze.

“i call you killer for a reason, you know that, right? you’re fucking phenomenal.” and she meant it. you were a goddess, in her eyes. if there was any person closest to heaven on this earth. it’s you. everything about you. she couldn’t get enough of you, and if it was up to her, she’d show you just how perfect you are to her. you smile, shaking your head in disbelief. “you’re insane.”

“im literally complimenting you, idiot- how does this make me insane,” paige says, laughing. you shrug, shaking your head. “you know, you’re my bestfriend, right? like, the best, best-friend i’ve ever had? ” paige says, after a few seconds of silence. you look back up, your gaze softening, your big grin also softening into a sweet smile. kk was right, you thought. you knew what that was. you knew what she meant. she is in love.

hey, you. what if I told you we’re cool? that child’s play back in school is forgiven under my rule. i havent come around in so long, but I’m making a come-back to where I belong.

you sit in your room in silence, staring at the ceiling. you keep replaying things in your mind, things she’s said. things she’s done. you knew you liked girls, you knew you liked paige. but, at what cost? did your whole friendship form from the attraction you guys had from the start? was this random to her? were you guys ever going to talk about it? this whole situation is ridiculous. right now, paige is visiting her family in minnesota. you’ve met them before, and you loved her little brother, drew, like your own brother. he was precious to you. but, this time you didn’t go, you had to stay back and practice. which, sounds ridiculous to paige given that you’re already the best player in the world to her. but, you knew you’d been slacking on practicing and certain skills you were supposed to be good at. you didn’t want to let her down. or the team, of course. but, paige specifically.

these bloakes warm the benches, we’ve been on a winning streak. (s)he jokes that it’s heroin but this time with an ‘e.’

today, you guys had a game. you were always pretty hard on yourself, but, today was worse. paige noticed this, quickly. as she always does. right before halftime, you shoot a three. you make it, but, it still was kinda sloppy. not all of your shots were sloppy, of course. but, today you felt like shit and were on your period. you didn’t feel great, and you were pissed off that the girl guarding you was on your ass all damn game. the girl in question was no other than kate martin, who was always on your ass specifically, when you guys played iowa. it was infuriating, and not to mention that you kept getting fouls called on you by a ref who clearly doesn’t realize that kate won’t stay off of your case. as soon as half-time hits, you walk over to the bench, muttering a ‘holy fucking shit’ under your breath. you sit down, paige immediately following after you, sitting beside you.

“hey, killer…. it’s okay, i promise. you’re doing so, so good.” paige says, leaning closer to you trying to reassure you in a soft, gentle tone.

“doesnt feel like it.” you say, grumpily, grabbing your water and taking a drink of it. “i know, but hey,” she says, smiling. “you’re fuckin’ killing it. if it makes you feel any better, you scored and knocked her down because of how close she was to you, maybe she’ll back off. but…” she says, pausing. “do not get a tech because of her.” you look over at her, slowly nodding. “yeah, im trying. but, the next time she gets in my face, i’m knocking her to the fucking ground again.” you say, quietly. paige smiles, “no being too aggressive… i mean, yes, be aggressive. but, no techs.”

“yeah, yeah. okay, idiot face. i’ll try.” you say and paige smiles wider, shaking her head.

as the game continues, we’re up by a solid two points. youre now in the last 45 seconds of the game. iowa has the ball, clark scores a 3 on paige. of fucking course, you think.

kk gets the rebound, and we get the ball, finally. with now only 30 seconds left, you’re panicking. you’re losing by one damn point. geno calls a time out out to the ref, the ref granting him this and you all huddle over. paige leans over to you, mumbling a, “you’ve got this, killer. im leaving this up to you. you won’t let me down.” you smile, nodding. she smiles at you for a few seconds. she is so whipped, and it’s obvious. you’re addicting. you’re like heroin, but with a fucking ‘e,’ paige thinks.

shirts off, and your friends lift you up over their heads. beer sticking to the floor, cheers chanted, cause they said, “there was no chance, tryna be the greatest in the league.” where’s the trophy? (s)he just comes runnin’ over to me.

as the game resumes, the ball is passed to paige. 15 seconds. the time is ticking, so, so fast. paige does a pump fake, immediately passing the ball to you. you catch it, turning slightly so you can dribble around martin, who’s still on your ass. you nearly lose the ball. you’re wasting too much time time, you think. you glance up at the clock. 5 seconds. you try to think fast, then quickly preform a fake pass to paige, then as soon as kate turns her attention toward paige, you shoot directly behind the point the three-point line, and you make it. the buzzer sounds. you look over at the score counters, wondering if it’s able to be counted. they announce it is, and you feel like you’ve never been happier than in that damn moment. your entire team is screaming, all of the fans in the bleachers standing up and cheering. you place your hands on your knees, leaning down and panting while smiling. that’s when you see paige, her shirt is lifted up so her stomach is showing, still cheering. smiling ear to ear, she suddenly runs over to you from across the court. she hugs you, picking you up and spinning you around.

this type of shit only happens once every few lifetimes. who are you to deny your love for her any longer? who are you to fight the general chemistry between you two? who are you to fight the alchemy?

a/n: RAHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LOVED IT IM SORRY IF IT SUCKS ASS!!!! IF YOURE READING THIS RN I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

[acotarxreader]

Papertrail

Azriel X Reader

Synopsis: For months Azriel had gotten to know you through the intelligence letters you penned from the Autumn Court but finally meeting reveals your twisted reality.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, descriptions of injury as a result of domestic violence.

A/N: I hope you guys like this fic, I enjoyed writing it despite the nature of the beast. Please proceed with caution or not at all if you believe the themes in this lil guy to be upsetting.

P.S this got equal votes with the silly one in the poll but I'm listening to Evermore rn so ye're getting the angsty one hehe

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Azriel’s grin dashed across his face like a Cheshire cat as he tried and failed to tuck it away in the presence of his friends. He read through the words over and over again, a lighthearted quiet laugh leaving him. 

“What do you have there Az?”

“Nothing” he replied too quickly to Mor thrown across the sofa of the Town House, her eyebrow raising as he began to carefully fold it back away. 

“They’re his love letters” Cassian cooed from the hallway, shaking off his jacket as the Spymaster tried to do the same to the maroon growing in his cheeks. 

“Leave it Cass” the letter found safety within Azriel's jacket pocket again, usually these would be disposed of after reading but Azriel knew he’d need the comfort of your words again after this trip. 

“I think it's cute”

“It's not cute Feyre, it's intel” 

“Intel? Is that what you single people call it these days” Cassian smirked, finding his place next to Nesta on the couch, arm thrown over the back of the seat behind her. Azriel fought the way the word single made his heart twinge even if it was said in jest.

“It's none of your business is what it is, where's Rhys, we'll be late” Azriel tried his best to change the topic but it became like a cat playing with a mouse.

“You should see him when they arrive Mor, he blushes so much you'd swear he was from Dawn” 

“I do not blush!” A playful couch cushion met Cassian's laughing face, the group joining in, a smile escaped Azriel to his own annoyance.

“Tell us Az, do you have as much correspondence with your other insiders?”

“Yes”

“Liar” Mor laughed, the sound of Rhysand landing in the garden echoing through the joyous house. 

“You write her more than anyone, your face betrays you when you're writing”

“It does n-”

“Who’s face betrays them?” Rhysand flexed his wings gently after the long flight before planting a kiss on the top of Feyre's head and joining his family gathered in the living room. The group looked in unison towards Azriel, all grinning widely. 

“Ah, Az’ little love affair”

“It's not a love affair! I've never even met her, she writes me intel and I writ-”

“-That you love her on bathroom stall doors” The group laughed at Mor's quip as the group stood to leave Velaris for another laborious visit to the Autumn Court. 

“I don’t-I don’t love her”

“Sur Az, maybe try telling your face that” Cassian called back to him as he draped his coat across his broad shoulders once again. 

—------

The meeting with the Autumn Court had its usual turbulence but thanks to the information you had provided, no major surprises were brought before the Inner Circle. Azriel watched from his usual perch in the corner of the meeting room, Rhysand and Beron engaged in their typical vitriol. The Spymaster's gaze landed on Beron’s particularly brutish General as he stood to the side of his High Lord. 

“Kelvin, show our dear guests their way out, we've reached an impasse” Beron bit out to the tower of a male who stood obligingly, the negotiations reaching their usual stalemate. 

“Your High Lord seemed especially prepared for this meeting, Shadowsinger” Kelvin whispered to Azriel as the group made their way to the exit of Forest House. 

“That’s his job”

“Even still, interesting how there seemed to be a prepared argument for every notion that was put before him, I would hate to hear that people aren’t playing by the rules” Azriel didn’t let any part of the thinly veiled threat rattle him, only a scoff left him, brushing off the accusation. 

The group ducked out into the Summer air through a large door they were directed to, Kelvin stopping Azriel to continue their conversation just before the threshold. Azriels hand went into his trouser pocket in a practised nonchalant movement, his jacket draping over his scarred hand. A shadow leapt to the ground of the now empty hallway before Azriel even noticed, his beloved slip of paper meeting the ground with softness. Kelvin was quicker to retrieve than the shadows were to conceal, a rookie mistake Azriel cursed himself for mentally. 

“Hmm, your correspondence Shadowsinger” The paper sat slotted between the General's first and middle finger towards Azriel, he moved to take it back, much too quickly, it being pulled back from his grasp again.

“Hm, eager to retrieve?”

“It’s nothing” Azriel lied through his teeth, wondering how much damage to diplomacy would be caused by slaughtering Kelvin where he stood. Kelvin splayed his two fingers slightly, pulling the folded paper apart to reveal a small sliver of your penmanship, his face hardening instantly as a shadow shot to snatch the paper back. Azriel was just glad that that particular letter had been personal and not vital intel, no major security threat in its exposure could be achieved. 

“Right well, enjoy your night” Kelvin's abrupt, frosty end to the conversation was not lost on Azriel as he watched the giant male seemingly stomp down the stone corridor. 

“C’mon Az, it's time to go” Cassian's voice tore Azriels eyes from Kelvin's back.

-

Further meetings between the Courts were relatively uneventful, Kelvin kept his distance from the group and made himself unavailable for meetings with any of the inner circle. Azriel had contacted all the Autumn Court spies he had to ensure they stayed on alert, all had replied except for you. Every night Azriel would wait for the note he’d sent down the line to you to reappear, but it never did. After a month of radio silence, Azriel had become increasingly irritable and restless in his work, had even tried to contact the Fae who had initially put you in touch, but nothing came of that lead. He paced his small living quarters in the residence the Night Court used in the Autumn Court, unable to take his mind away from the imaginary scenarios in his head. 

“Az, you’re going to put a hole in the floor” Cassian stepped squarely into his brother's path, his arms catching hold of the paling Illyrian's shoulders. 

“We have to get downstairs, the ball is starting and if you’re not there, Beron will think you’re off snooping and get spooked” Azriel shook his head in agreement to the logic, moving from Cassian's grasp to fix his suit jacket. 

The two entered the already bustling ballroom with the coordinated power that comes with centuries of familiarity. The Autumn Court guests meshed in with the Court of Nightmares guests Rhysand had invited, this attempt at building bridges seeming to work, as long as the alcohol was freely flowing. 

An hour or so later, Azriel had managed to escape a particularly persistent fae in favour of a darkened corner of the space. His eyes traced over the various members of the gathering, all deeply swirled in an alcohol-induced truce. He watched the tower he knew to be Kelvin tip his head back in laughter at some comment one of his lackeys had made. His gaze was pulled back to the General with the sudden appearance of a much smaller fae at his side, a smile that didn’t meet her eyes gracing her face. Azriel’s shadows instinctively shot with quiet excellence to wrap softly around your ankles beneath your dress. You cautiously tore your attention from the conversation, locking eyes with the Spymaster across the dance floor. The colour drained from your face and almost as quickly reappeared, you just gave the smallest of nods towards the Illyrian. Azriel’s thoughts went wild at the sight of you, feeling every cell in his body confirm to him that you were who he’d spent all his time thinking about these days. He moved a step forward in your direction, your head ever so slightly shaking no to the movement. Azriel felt his nerves scream at him to walk towards you, fighting some level of primal instinct as he stayed fixed on the spot. 

“Drink Shadowsinger?” Eris’ voice caused his head to snap in the direction of the source. 

“Not poisoned is it?” Azriel took the flute of shimmering gold, some of his shadows returning to glass, swirling around it before confirming to him it was safe. 

“One day you’ll trust me”

“Maybe it’ll be the day you keel over and die” Eris laughed at the sarcasm before noticing Azriel’s eyes land back on you. 

“Ah, YN” Azriel’s head darted back to the eldest son of Autumn, his somewhat amused words confirming your identity to what his instincts had already told him. The female he had spent months learning so much about but never dreamed of meeting was stood in the flesh mere metres away and you seemed to want to keep it that way. 

“You know her?”

“In a social sense, she is Kelvin’s wife-” he took a deep drink from his glass, seemingly drowning a comment in the liquid. Wife. You were married. Azriel fought to keep upright, you had never mentioned anything about being involved with anyone, how could you be married to someone else, you both had shared such love through your correspondence, all for it to be a lie, Azriel thought. It became clear then how you had such unbridled access to the workings and plans of the Autumn Court, that you were married to the male who made them. 

“-She hasn’t been around much lately-” Eris continued “-she tends to avoid these kinds of gatherings, he must have let her out to play”

“Let her?” Eris necked the remainder of his drink, depositing the glassware on the tray of a passing server. 

“This isn’t the Night Court Shadowsinger, Kelvin belongs to a very relic-like line of thought, she belongs to him, he controls the reins and she has to go along for the ride. He probably has something to gain from her presence here” Azriel’s heat boiled in his veins, threatening to come out as steam from his ears. Eris rolled his eyes at Azriel’s silence, growing bored of the interaction and heading to find someone else to play with.

You stood at the edge of the circle of large males, seemingly enjoying the conversation alongside your husband. Azriel noticed the way your long dress clung to your bones, sleeves as long as your arms with a neckline that practically touched your ears, an odd choice for the Summer, even in the Autumn Court Azriel thought. You dipped your head slightly as Azriel watched you make your exit from the group, Kelvin’s eyes heating your back until you entered an adjacent hallway. Before Kelvin would notice, Azriel dissolved into the shadowy corner, his shadows eager to reunite with you. 

“Just a moment” you called back to the soft tapping on the bathroom door. You supported your weight on the counter of the sink, glaring into your own reflection as you tilted your head side to side to inspect the coverage of the make-up you had applied over any traces of betrayal. Your attention was taken from the mirror as a shadow slipped beneath the entrance, you watched it approach you with such gentle caution until you moved to unlock the door with a shaking hand. Hazel eyes looked deeply into yours, afraid to blink in case it was all a dream. 

“Hello stranger” You couldn’t find a reply to him, only reaching for his shirt and hauling him into the bathroom. 

“Are you fucking crazy?! Did anyone see you!?” You rattled out, pacing up and down the small space, Azriels shadows wrapping around you. You looked down at them with a loving smile, a sense of familiarity between you and them.

“No, no one saw me, I-I can’t believe you’re here and…and you’re married!” you stopped dead in your tracks at Azriel’s slightly raised tone. You dragged a hand down your face, trying to pull some control back to the tiled space. 

“I-I didn’t think it was relevant”

“Not relevant!?” Azriel rasped out, his hands partially flailing out in exasperation, and your eyes clung to their movement. 

“It-its a need-to-know basis”

“I would think I would be a part of that, fuck it we told each other practically everything else about one another!” His volume grew moderately, heat rising at the back of your neck.

“Don’t be mad at me Azriel, please” A shiver shot down his spine at the sound of his name on your lips, any semblance of annoyance fleeing the scene. 

“I’m not, I’m just glad that you’re okay, the radio silence frightened me” he closed the distance between you, the smell of mist and mint flowing around you as his hands laced into yours. 

“Azriel, I’m-I’m married”

“Happily?” he laughed out, it dying in the air with your lack of reply, worry starting to transverse his face.

“YN?”

“I-”

“YN!” Kelvin’s voice accompanied by heavy pounding against the solid oak door, your whole body flinching at the interruption. 

“Coming!” you called back, the rattle in your voice cutting into Azriel’s ears, your hands pulled from his soft hold. 

“Azriel please go”

“YN, I don’t like this” his hushed tone matching yours, Kelvin's footsteps haunting the hallway. 

“Azriel, please just go”

“I’ll go if you promise to meet me later”

“Azriel”

“YN! Come on!” the pounding on the door returning, the handle vibrating much like your bones. 

“Fine, fine, I promise, go” you rushed over to the door, your hand landing on the handle tremulously and after whispering where to meet you later, Azriel reluctantly dissolved into shadow once again. 

-

Azriel reentered the party like a bull in a china shop, unable to refocus after your encounter, he waited for you and your husband to reappear, but you didn’t, the party swirling around him. He counted the minutes down until the party had come to a natural stopping point and he could escape to meet you in the wooded area behind your house, allowing conversations to ebb and flow around him. 

Finally, he could make his excuses to head to bed, spending all of a minute changing into his training clothing for easier agility. He snuck through the shadows of Forest House as though made of their atoms, moving with precision through passageways until he found his way to the city, slinking through the dwindling crowd with ease. 

Azriel waited in the wooded area for nearly an hour, his shadows casing the vast forest for your presence with nothing to show for it. He decided to take things into his own hands as the depths of nights swaddled him. He moved closer to the two-storey property, the glow of the kitchen light filling the small patio beneath a colossal oak tree.

Azriel could make out the outline of Kelvin and a few others from the party, clearly having decided to continue the revelry in his home. Music flowed out through the opened window, his shadows sneaking through the cracks to scope out the ground floor, returning to Azriel with no knowledge of your presence in the private party. Azriels eyes landed on the flicker of a candle from the upstairs of the property, his shadows beginning to leap around him. Scaling the large tree was an easy feat for the skilled Illyrian and soon he was level to the window. 

The blood drained entirely from the Shadowsingers face at the scene through the window. You sat in a ball, knees split open and huddled into your chest, the dress that shielded you earlier now in tatters around your ankles leaving the cruel water colouring decorating your body on full display. The beautiful colours of Autumn coated your flesh in their brutality as crimson flowed from a gash, tinging your hair. 

Downstairs Azriel could hear booming laughter from the group, fresh new thoughts of slaughter entering his mind.  A shadow faintly tipped against the window, the sound rocketing through every cell of your body as you jolted with the fright. Your tear-stained eyes landed on the Night Court’s Spymaster who clung to the trunk of the tree outside your chamber. Your tremoring muscles lifted you from the splitting wood, over a shattered lamp covered in your blood. You delicately pushed into the hinges of the window until it gave in under your weak strength, the Summer air rushing in to meet you. Azriel skirted across the limb of the tree to slip into the space, your eyes fixated on the wood as he landed nimbly. 

“Y-YN?” he approached you like a wild deer stuck in a bear trap, afraid speed would cause you to bolt and lead to further injury.

“I-I’m so-rry I didn’t-didn’t come meet y-you” you managed through your quivering throat, the taste of blood and bile poisoning the words. Azriel gave you a small hush, his shadows surveying every stretch of your skin they could.

“We need to get you out of here” he spoke so quietly you almost missed it in the drumming of your ears.

“I-I can’t go with you”

“YN, theres-theres so much blood in your hair” his hand calmly raised to brush the maroon matting away from your face, the source at the crown of your head gleaming in the moonlight. 

“He-I shouldn’t have been so-so long away from him ear-earlier” You fought every urge to lean into Azriel’s touch, an unfamiliar sense of trust towards a male's hand growing in you. 

“Fuck that” Was all Azriel could think to say, moving quickly and quietly away from you again. His shadows wrapped around you to support you as you stood watching the fleet-footed Illyrian grab some things from around the room, the sound of the brutish males merrymaking downstairs covering his movements. 

“Azriel”

“YN, you’re coming with me” some of his shadows returned to his ears in almost an excited fashion.

“Good idea” he replied to them as they darted out the window again, your heartbroken eyes began to swell with tears of pain and anguish.

“Will you be warm enough in this?” He pulled a thick coat from the splintering wardrobe, Azriel getting the feeling it had been a heavy feature of your battlefield, wishing the thought away.

“Azriel, I-I can’t go, I’m his”

“No-” he turned to face you as he spoke, seriousness coating the entire word as he held out the coat to you again “-You belong to no one other than yourself YN”

“Azriel, that’s not how that-that works here”

“Well it is now” He sheathed your mottled skin, the thick fabric, its weight causing your exhausted legs to buckle slightly, Azriel’s arm instinctively wrapping around your chest to support you from the side. You sucked air sharply through your teeth, Azriel releasing you again.

“Sorry YN, I didn’t mean to hurt you” his eyes searched yours frantically as you folded your arms across yourself, your hand tracing the growing deep magenta along your ribcage.

“It's ok-okay Azriel” he turned back to the small satchel he had begun to fill, slipping it over his shoulders. He moved back to the climb to the reach of the tree, arm outstretched inviting you to take hold of him. 

“Azriel” 

“YN, either you come with me or we both stay” his soft but firm voice had you rocking from foot to foot trying to decide what to do, caught between your potential future and your definitive present.

You looked towards the destroyed room in front of you and back again at the Illyrian offering you the answer to your prayers. You exhaled as deep as your chest would allow you to, moving closer to the window, the sound of crunching ceramic beneath your feet the only sound in the room. The only sound in the room. The only sound in the room. 

The door swung screeching on its rusting hinges as the General of the Autumn Court crashed into the room in a drunk swirl of rage, amplified by the sight of his wife’s rescue. Azriel leapt from his perch to block you as a blood-curdling scream left you, instinctively hitting the ground for cover. Before Kelvin could reach for you, Truth-Teller found its home in the thigh of the male, his blood springing free from his network of vessels, reaching and mixing with your own on the floor. The giant hit the flooring with an almost deafening thud, writhing in pain, alcohol stealing any chance of a coordinated retaliation. Azriel retrieved the knife, hovering over his new greatest enemy. 

“You will suffer a thousand deaths for this, but not right now, not when it would be merciful” Venom dripped from his bone-chilling tone, a cadence you knew would never be directed at you. Shadows once again filled the room, scraps of paper in their grasp covered the space as Azriel crossed back towards you, pulling you back to your feet and into his arms. Swarms of multiplying shadow cascaded and concealed you both until they dissolved, leaving the two of you in the warmth of a small living area. 

“Now, home again” Azriel breathed out in relief, you found a small smile grow, mirroring his ease as he pulled you to his side and over to a plush loveseat. 

“Azriel I-I can’t believe what-what just happened”

“And I can’t believe I had enough restraint not to murder him where he stood, but Rhysand hates paperwork and besides, I have bigger plans for him” Shadows nipped the side of his shoulder playfully as he retrieved a cup of floral tea from the kitchenette in his small studio apartment.

“Fine, we have plans for him, so praise starved my little friends. Go fetch Madja for me sweeties” he played back to them as they darted off happily. 

“And what exactly have you all planned?”

“Well, Beron is suspicious the Court has a leak and with some careful…editing, now he’ll find his leak” he passed the cup down to you, covering your legs in a throw blanket.

“You had the shadows plant letters in the house for Beron to find?”

“Well, in the morning we’ll send Eris word that you found the letters and he attacked you for trying to tell the truth” he slotted into the seat next to you, a damp cloth in hand to run along your tangled hair, freeing up the clumps of blood. 

“And when they ask why I’m here?”

“Eris will award you with an emissary to the Night Court position, so loyal to the Autumn Court, the perfect fae to keep an eye on us” You found a slight laugh leave you, the sound bringing a grin to Azriel’s face. The sound of light tapping on the front door accompanied by Azriels returning shadows signalled Madjas arrival.

—-------------------

You awoke the next morning to the plush fabric of Azriel’s king size bed, the fabric swaddling your freshly stitched skin. You reluctantly opened your eyes, afraid you had dreamed the past twenty-four hours as you forced yourself upright in the bed. You looked around the cosy well-loved space, hints of Azriel everywhere, except for the Illyrian himself. He had left his makeshift bed on his couch early in the morning, eager to begin his ruse. 

You crossed the room to the small kitchenette on your world-weary legs, a tray sat gleaming on the counter with fresh scones and the fixings to make the floral tea you loved last night. A smile grew as you heated water on the stove for the tea. 

While the water rolled to a boil, you wandered around the space, taking in the world that Azriel had let you into in his letters, still in disbelief, that this had all happened. Your hand crossed over the bag on his desk, the random assortment of wares Azriel had packed making you laugh slightly. The water hissing as it boiled over the rim of the saucepan had you rushing over to it, bumping into a tall tower of boxes as you reached for the stove. You jumped at the sound of crashing files from behind you, scrunching your face before reluctantly turning to the mess you had made. You cursed aloud, kneeling to collect the reams of paper as Azriel knocked before entering his own home. 

“Hey YN, all don- what’s going on here?” He laughed before panic started to dash across his face, rushing to conceal the content of the parchments. 

“Azriel…are these….are these my notes to you?” you held a small collection in your hands, Azriel reaching to snatch them from you in a protective manner.

“Don’t…don’t tell Rhys I’ve kept them” he said with almost shame, crouched across from you as he carefully folded the paper. 

“Wh-why did you keep them?”

“Because they’re you YN” he looked from the penmanship to the female who gifted him the words that kept him company for months. You leaned off the backs of your legs to reach across the piles of history between you both until you met Azriel’s mouth with yours. He leaned further into the kiss, the two of you still kneeling in the nest of paper. His hands traced gently across your waist as yours wrapped around his shoulders, your inner gravities pulling one another together with tender force. Scarred hands ran up the length of your back, meeting equal chasms and fissures, both of your marred stretches of skin feeling whole again. The feelings of true safety and security flowed between you both coupled with the energy of shadow and fire finding home in one another. It felt as time no longer existed, never-ending and final, like nothing beyond the pools of paper mattered. You separated as the need for air sailed towards critical, your hands slid down his chest as his slipped around the nape of your neck, you both leaning in to rest your foreheads together, careful to not reopen your wound. 

“YN, you’re my…”

“Mate” your glowing soft eyes landed on his smiling hazel as they seemingly sparkled. 

“I was going to say my everything but I believe those are both the same from here on in”  

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Whatcha think friends??

The lovelies: @milswrites @sarawritestories

[diagonal-queen]

Uuuuuuh, an idea has just arrive on my mind🤭 you know that boys usually tease girls they like right? I’m really curious how Tachihara and tecchou would do it… (I’m really curious for tecchou😭)

Teasing their crush

♡ pairing: Tecchou Suehiro, Tachihara Michizou, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoyevsky x fem!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys tease the girl that they like (that's you!)?

♡ cw: Swearing, Jouno suffers a lot, Fyodor is toxic as always, mention of suicide, I somehow manage to bring Astarion up here?? (sorry)

note: i know i know. it's been a while, and i apologise. i just have been so so busy. right now i'm in an exhausted trance writing this and i'm certain i'll wake up tomorrow with no recollection of writing it at all. also threw in dazai and fyodor for the sillies i hope you don't miiind~ as always apologies for errors and i hope you enjoy x

Tecchou:

I cannot see him teasing you.

I'm sorry anon but I just can't see him teasing a girl he likes. He would either be generally nice to her, super awkward but still okay, or just come off as cold and aloof. He wouldn't go out of his way to tease a girl or exchange playful banter with her

If he ever tried to tease he would probably just straight up be mean and insult you or something. And then he wouldn't understand why it didn't work

(Jouno is smacking his head against the wall)

Don't worry. If he's gonna cope with his feelings for you he's gonna do it in a way that benefits you i.e. he's just going to be super obvious about it and not even try to hide it

(update: Jouno is still smacking his head against the wall. someone help him)

Like he'll just openly buy you food and presents and tell you he likes you and like hold your hand and shit?? Tecchou is no-nonsense. He wants to date you, he'll let you know.

And it's not like Tecchou's trying any 'techniques' or anything like that. There is not a THOUGHT behind those beautiful eyes; he's just following his heart <3

Tecchou might be a bit dense when it comes to such socially complicated things as courting, but he's a genuine person and wants to make you feel appreciated, and let you know he loves you. He just does it in the only ways he knows how <3

Tachihara:

The opposite of Tecchou

He's such a teaser. He likes to make jokes with and poke fun at his love interests, but sometimes might go a bit too far with it (If he does he genuinely feels super bad and apologises dw T-T)

Like he's one of those kinds of guys who you would get so caught up in the flirty banter with that you just talk for hours

If you're texting you guys are both kicking your legs and squealing in between texts lowkey, like you're secretly such lovesick dorks but you play it so cool

Some kaguya sama love is war type shit you guys have going on

And god forbid you do this in front of other people. They're probably SO uncomfortable. Like oh my god get a room already (this dot point was ghostwritten by Jouno)

As you two get more and more into it, he becomes less tease-flirty and more sweet-flirty. He genuinely compliments you instead of exchanging little jabs and backhanded teases, and it's so CUTE

He also, for some reason, gets more shy instead of less shy. He blushes, he messes with his hair- AUGH he's so cute

In all honesty no matter what way, shape or form Tachihara flirts with you, even if he's awkward and fumbles each time, he's still such a charmer that you can't help but love him anyway. some messy hair and a sweet boyish grin goes a LONG way!

Dazai:

This is what I like to call Egotistical Flirting

He will tease you by telling you how much you love him, how much other women love him, how wonderful of a guy he is and how great of a deal he's constantly offering you. Yes, the 'deal' in question is dinner and a movie double suicide

And of course you roll your eyes and chuckle, and while he pretends that he's all offended that you aren't openly falling for it, he LOVES that. He loves your affectionate sarcasm and he could milk it out of you for days if he had the time

And he doesn't even wait to even learn your name before he immediately goes full on womaniser. He would just approach you like 'Heyyy~' and it's all downhill from there.

Dazai is a man on a MISSION is what I'm saying

He will also tease you by embarrassing you. He just says the most oUT OF POCKET stuff out of nowhere in public?? He absolutely delights in seeing you get all embarrassed and having you swat at him and scold him

(He's a bit of a masochist don't question it)

Naturally, this is generally a facade to hide the fact that he is hopelessly infatuated with you, and kinda scared of commitment. He hopes you'll accept him as he is but just in case... it's easier to put up a nonchalant front.

Don't worry Dazai. you've got nothing to worry about. :)

Fyodor:

Mind games. Mind games. MIND GAMES

And not the good kind!

He will tease you with this neat little trick he uses called psychological warfare. In his experience it's 100% effective

Fyodor is a toxic little shit. He doesn't often really 'tease' so much as 'neg'. He doesn't quite care too much about your esteem as long as he's able to make you like him back.

You guys know this thing called Ascended Astarion? yeah this is basically just that but ✨ Russian ✨

All this being said he actually does feel affection and love towards you, and he DOES care. He just doesn't want you to reject him, so he'll use any trick necessary to prevent that (regardless of general ethics for the most part)

Fyodor is an all rounder. He'll tease, show genuine affection, neg, flirt, stalk, lovebomb...the whole shebang (I'm sure he asked Nikolai for tips, and I'm even more sure Nikolai had MANY)

Fyodor is just so emotionally out of touch when it comes to other people that he genuinely has no idea how to just...flirt, or even really be casual, like a normal person. It would be sad if he wasn't such a motherfucker

Honestly all of you 'I could fix him' girlies would fall hook line and sinker for this (and I'm allowed to say that because I am one of you)

In the end...man, just date Tachihara

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl, @kokoenjiandco, @pinkiipeachiikeen, @call-me-albie

[sweetbans29]

Eyes On You - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You catch Caitlin's eye during a game (based off of THIS request)

Warnings: fluff, flirting, ever so slightly suggestive

Word Count: 3.2k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Okay but tell me you haven't gone somewhere and actually imagined this happened because you would be lying...

It is a Tuesday afternoon when your friends practically beg you to go to the women's basketball game.

"Come on, it will be fun," one of your friends says. You shake your head no without looking up from your biology paper.

"I need to finish this paper, it is due Friday and I am nowhere near close to done," you say, typing a sentence only to delete it immediately after. For some reason, this research paper is just not coming together.

"We already got you a ticket, you are going." Your roommate states knowing the real reason you don't want to go and it has nothing to do with your paper.

The truth is there is a girl on the team who you have been crushing on for a while now. The two of you are in the same business marketing class. She caught your eye pretty early on. The two of you ended up sitting next to each other and would make small talk whenever you got to class. It was never anything major but it was always the highlight of your day. You would get back to your room and immediately tell your roommate about your little conversation with the star athlete.

That was the thing, when you were in class she wasn't the superstar, she was just Caitlin. She would make you laugh with some silly little comment and you would talk to her like she wasn't the biggest person at the school. She made you feel seen and you made her feel heard.

You close your laptop and give your roommate the death stare. She knew you would say no but got you a ticket anyway - knowing you would never go to the game without being forced. This is your roommate's push to finally show your interest outside of your small talk in class. If you were to ask her, she was sick of hearing you always talk about Caitlin and never taking action to show her you actually liked her.

You give in, knowing your roommate isn't going to budge and will literally drag you there with her bare hands.

The group of you head back to your apartment and get ready. You opt for a simple look - jeans and a Hawkeye hoodie. Your friends on the other hand were dressed to impress. You check yourself out in the mirror and question if you should change. You decided against changing and instead grabbed a Hawkeye ballcap, hoping to blend in with the crowd and not be seen by your favorite player.

All of you decided to walk to the game, it wasn't more than 20 minutes away from your apartment. The closer you got to the stadium, the more nervous you felt. You have no idea why you are nervous, it is not like she is going to see you.

When you get there, you follow behind your group of friends. It is all kind of overwhelming - the crowd and how many people are here and how decked out in gear they are.

You are too caught up in the scene to realize that your group is being ushered to your seats. This is your first Iowa women's basketball game and you didn't realize how crazy your school went for this team. You know that there has been a lot of traction around Caitlin Clark and how she is changing the game for women. But what you are seeing, is truly amazing the effect she is having on people.

When you all get to your seats, you are mortified. At no point did your roommate or any of your other friends mention that you were sitting courtside. Having the perfect view of the court is nice when it comes to watching the game but not when it comes to hiding from your marketing crush.

You sit and glare at your roommate, who ignores you quite easily as she is in conversation with one of the guys you came with.

You pull your ball cap down and wish you could sink through your chair. This will be fine. You will be fine. There is no way she is going to notice you when she is focused on the game. You keep telling yourself this.

The team makes its way onto the court - the crowd goes wild. You watch as they come jogging out, starting to warm up. Your eyes scan the crowd for no.22. You see a few other girls that are familiar from classes and make a mental note to cheer them on. When you finally find Caitlin, your heart skips a beat.

She looks so good. This is 100% her in her element. The once so laid-back girl, now locked in and ready for what the next 2 hours hold. You are mesmerized by how calm she looks - like the thousands of fans here shouting her name are nonexistent.

Your eyes remain on her while they warm up. When their warm-ups come off and they take the court for the beginning of the game, something shifts in her.

You turn over to ask one of your friends a question about the team, missing the first glance that Caitlin gets of you sitting courtside for her game. She turns over to Kate, who is standing right next to her.

"That's her," is all Caitlin says and gives a little point to you. Kate follows her point to a girl who looks like she doesn't want to be seen. That's hard to do when you are literally sitting on the court.

Your attention goes back to the game as the girls go up for the tip-off. When the Hawkeyes take it, you feel yourself getting into the game. No one really knew you grew up playing in middle school and high school. You were never good enough to play in college but you enjoyed the sport. You left that part of you when you left high school.

It's not even 2 minutes into the game when you feel eyes on you. You turn to see your friends staring at you. You look back at them confused. Your roommate uses her head to signal to something on the court. You look and are surprised to see Caitlin looking right at you.

You feel a heat creep into your cheeks as you just stare at her. See it would have been a good idea to smile or nod. Hell, even wave but you just sat there staring at her with a blank expression.

She just smiles and lets out a little chuckle as she turns back to the game. She gets the ball and shoots a logo three no more than 10 seconds after you made a fool of yourself. When she turns to the crowd to celebrate, she points directly at you and then holds up a three with her other hand. Your roommate elbows your side as you hide your face.

This was everything you were terrified of, being seen.

"It looks like she has someone to play for," one of your friends gives you a little nudge.

"Guys there is no need to make this bigger than it is, she could be pointing to anyone over here, it isn't a big deal," you say in hopes that you will also believe your lies.

Your roommate scoffs. "You keep telling that to yourself sweetheart, she knows, we know and by the looks of it, the team also knows," she says as she nods over to the girls on the court.

All of your heads turn to see Caitlin, pointing to you again but this time talking to more girls on her team. They all look at you with smiles then break from their huddle and head back to their spots on the court.

Caitlin is running straight in your direction.

"Watch," you say referring to how you are not the center of attention to anyone.

Caitlin doesn't stop where she is supposed to be posted but rather runs straight to you with her hand out. Your hand comes out to give her a high five.

"Glad you could finally make it to one of my games," she says with a little smirk. "Only halfway through the season, better late than never." She gives you a wink before heading back to her post.

You feel like you could pass out. There is no way she just came up to you, mid-game, to be a little flirt.

"Looks like your girl Caitlin now has someone to dedicate her plays to," one of your friends teases you.

"Oh shut up," you say but that doesn't take away from the butterflies that build in the pit of your stomach.

Everyone turns back to the game and as you watch your team fight to keep the lead.

It seems like in every other play, Caitlin is turning her head to give you a smile or a smirk. You want time to stop so you can walk up to her and tell her to get her head in the game. There is no way she should be this distracted when the score is as close as it is.

The next play has a girl from the other team, pushing Caitlin causing her to fall on her backside right in front of you. You lean down to stop her from rolling into the chairs, your hand coming to her lower back and right arm as she slides right into you. When your hand touches her skin, you accidentally shock her - sending a little electrical current running through both of you.

One of her teammates comes to help her up and a foul is called. Before she goes to throw her free throws she turns to you, saying, "Thanks, babe."

Your friends, yet again, turn to look at you and you just wave them off.

The buzzer goes off as halftime commences. You are scrolling on your phone when someone approaches you.

"Hi, I was asked to come give this to you," the woman says as she hands you jersey. You give her a confused look, not taking it, but rather just looking at the article of clothing she is holding.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what you are talking about," you say, genuinely confused.

"I was told by one of the players to give this to you to wear for the rest of the game," she says, signaling you to take the jersey. It is your roommate who takes it from the woman and lets her know you will put it on. The woman walks away and your roommate full-on turns to face you.

"You are putting on this jersey," she says, throwing it at you. You hear her mumble, "Just letting the poor woman stand there when she has better things to do. All you had to do was take the jersey." She seems annoyed at how naive you are being.

You look at the jersey that was just given to you - Clark 22 printed on the back. You slip it over your hoodie and slip your hat back on. You aren't going to deny the feeling you get when you first slip it on. And it is not like you are the only one wearing the number 22, there is a stand full of fans sporting the number as your marketing crush is the school's star.

When the team heads back out at the end of halftime, Caitlin's eyes go straight to you, making sure you got her little gift. She is pleased to see you wearing it.

As the third quarter begins, the team comes out hot, putting up 2 threes in the first minute. You are cheering them on louder than before.

After the next play, Caitlin comes your way.

"Much better," is all she says as she gives you another wink. You just smile at her, bringing your bottom lip in between your teeth. Caitlin's eyes go from yours, down to your lips. The smile she once wore, was now replaced with something between annoyance and longing. Every fiber of her being is telling her to walk up to you and pull that pretty little lip of yours out from your teeth and tell you that your lips are only for her to bite.

She finally looks away, realizing how much you are distracting her from the game. Kate runs up to Caitlin and whispers something into her ear, Caitlin nods and heads to grab water from the bench as the other team calls a time-out.

By the time the fourth quarter rolls around, you feel like you belong courtside. Your friends are still giving you a hard time whenever Caitlin looks your way or comes over to make a little comment to you. The game is nearing its end when Caitlin comes over to pass in the ball after a foul. She is standing right in front of you, so close you could touch her if you wanted.

She takes a small step back, her leg brushing up against yours. She steps up to the line and leans forward just enough to stick her ass out in your direction. This whole time, she has been the one in control. All that control went out the window when you bit your lip causing the super start to internally lose it. Her standing where she was, right in front of you, was no accident - she wanted you in the palm of her hand, not the other way around.

And boy did she have you. You sit there and just admire her body. Checking out her legs and how they are perfectly shaped. How her arms are beautifully toned and how she looks all around is incredible.

The game ends and the Hawkeyes take the win. The team rushes onto the court and begins celebrating with those who finished out the quarter.

You and your friends stand, stretching your legs. You had no intention of staying to see Caitlin after the game, thinking the team would go out to celebrate. You plan on giving Cait back her jersey the next class you two have together.

Your back is facing the court as you are waiting for your friends to grab their stuff when you feel a tug on your arm. You spin around and come face to face with none other than Miss Caitlin Clark.

She has a smile on her face and without warning, she grabs your waist and kisses you. Time stops and all the people in the background fade away. Your hands come up to her face as they cup her cheeks. You feel her bring your body closer to hers as she deepens the kiss. She gives your bottom lip a little bite as you break apart.

You stand there speechless. Dreaming of this kiss since the beginning of the semester, never in a million years imagined it would happen like this.

The most radiant smile is on her face. She leans in closer to you.

"My number is on the inside of this jersey. Call me, will you?" She asks as she looks at you for a response.

"Of course," is all you can say, still in shock about what has just happened.

"Good," she says. "I'll be waiting." She lets you go and gives your friends a wave before heading back to the team.

The whole walk home your friends can't stop talking about what had just unfolded before them. Some of them are as shocked as you are, while others are already planning your wedding.

When you get back to your room, you shoot Caitlin a text so she has your number.

[CC: I'm glad you didn't take long to shoot me a message}

{CC: Are you busy tomorrow? Want to work on our marketing paper if you haven't finished it yet?]

[You: That sounds great, I am quite behind 🤣]

[CC: Well I don't know if I will be much help, but I would rather do it with you than alone]

[You: I'm for it, meet at noon?]

She sends you her address. You like it and put your phone down to head to bed. Before you do, you hear your phone go off one more time. Grabbing it, you see one last message from Caitlin.

[CC: Sleep tight babe]

The next morning you wake up and go for a run. You needed to do something to help with the nerves that began to build just thinking about seeing Caitlin today.

You get back, shower, then get ready to meet her at her place. You make sure to stick her jersey in your bag to return to her and head out the door.

It only takes you about 15 minutes to walk to her apartment. When you get there you knock on the door.

She opens it with a huge smile, "Hi."

She lets you, opening her arms for a hug which you gladly shuffle into. It surpassed the length that friends would hug. As you pull away you decide to give her cheek a little peck.

After doing so is the first time you see her blush. You smile at her and continue to walk into her apartment.

The two of you decide to work on her couch - both struggling to get through this paper. You took frequent breaks talking about when you both started liking each other and more about your lives outside of marketing.

As you take another break, you grab your phone and decide to look her up only to find edits of you and her from the night before.

Your cheeks heat up immediately as you hide your face in your hands.

"What?" She says trying to look over at your screen. You hand her your phone and she laughs a little, followed by an 'awww'.

"I can't believe there are people out there who are making full-on edits of us." You say with a little groan - the spotlight is not your thing.

"They are cute," she says as she keeps scrolling through your phone. "Look at this one!"

You lean into her and look at what she is talking about. It is a clip of you before halftime, wearing your Hawkeye sweatshirt then jumps to after halftime when you are wearing Caitlin's jersey.

"I am sure glad I gave you my jersey," she says with a little smirk.

"That reminds me, I brought it back for you," you say, moving to grab it from your bag. She grabs your arm and brings you back into her.

"That one is for you to wear to the rest of my games," she says like it is a known fact. You decide to tease her a bit.

"And what makes you think I want to go watch you play again?" You ask.

She gives you a little pout - which literally melts you.

"Because you are my new good luck charm," she says and leans in closer to you. Your breathing becomes uneasy.

"But you don't need luck," you say just above a whisper. Your eyes going in between hers and her lips.

"You're right..." she says, also looking at your lips. Her eyes make their way back to yours. "I don't need luck, but I need you."

She leans in and kisses you. This kiss is much more reserved than the one she planted on you last night. There was no rush or urgency in this kiss, it was quite pleasant.

You inhale and bring your forehead to hers.

"I am all yours."

AN: I really like how this came out! Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 🤍

[222col]

"i'll sign an autograph later, but right now, you're in my seat." I ALMOST MOANED. The entire fic was the hottest thing i have ever read in my entire life. I know this is probably a bad idea but can you make a part 2 of Womanizer Art where he takes her out and end the night with them sleeping together just for him to stop texting her again but when he asks her to be in a committed relationship she rejects him and tells him to stop texting her. After the rejection Art tries to go back to his old ways sleeping with other girls but they don't feel like y/n or just gets depressed and only focuses on his career but he realizes that he's falling more and more for y/n no matter how hard he tried distracting himself while y/n is living her life as if nothing happened. So Art starts stalking her, going to places she goes and sabotaging her relationships with other men and he keeps texting her and sending her gifts and flowers to her house literally doing the kind of things he's has never done to another woman before until she gives in and agrees to be his girlfriend 😩 pretty please PLEASE PLEAAAAAASE 🧎‍♀️

!!!!!! thank u thank u thank u xxx yes omg love that idea but this will never be as good as @lovetrt's stalker!art but i will try my hardest 🧎🏻‍♀️ part two of this <3 | cw: slight forcefulness

"get out my fucking house." art orders the blonde in his bed when she attempts to hold him. "but-" he cuts her off with just a look. scrambling for her belongings and running out of his room. he slips his boxers back on and reaches for his phone on the nightstand. he sends yet another text to you.

can you stop being a brat and just text me back?

scrolling through the endless messages he's sent you before locking his phone and attempting to sleep once he hears the front door close.

it's been a month since your date with art. he took you to dinner and then of course back to his, where he fucked you silly on his bed again. you stayed the night, had breakfast with him before returning home. you enjoyed the date, and art's company, but as you told him, relationships weren't your thing. art isn't used to being told no, especially from girls, so when you stopped replying to his texts and wouldn't answer calls, he had to take matters into his own hands.

he's been fucking anything that moves and spending all his other free time on the tennis courts. agreeing to more brand campaigns, just in the hope that you'll see him on an ad somewhere and coming running back to his bed. art wakes up the next morning, checking his phone first thing, as he always does now, praying you'll have text him back.

not even if i actually let you fuck me with a racket?

art got in touch with patrick's buddy's now ex-girlfriend, begging for your address, telling her some bullshit like you left your watch at his and he wanted to mail it to you. she doesn't buy it, but she likes art, and does as he asks. he's been sending you flowers and presents every few days, but he knows it's time to take the next step. throwing on shorts, a t-shirt and his baseball cap, he drives to your apartment. there's a coffee shop opposite, ordering a drink and sitting outside, waiting for just a glimpse of you. he's sat there for a while, until the door to your building opens, and he sees you. an oversized t-shirt hides your underwear you lean over and kiss the man you're ushering out the door. art grits his teeth, his mind full of thoughts of fucking you on the stoop of your building.

the guy leaves, looking too smug for art's liking. he can't help himself. running over and stopping him in his tracks. "how do you know that girl?" he asks. "woah, hello? what's it to you, buddy?" the guy questions art. "just fucking tell me." art pushes, closing the distance between them, intimidating him. "she's just some girl i fuck." stepping back away from art. "how often?" art needs to know, he needs to be told you haven't slept with this random gym bro more than you have him. "alright, twenty questions, like twice a week." art's angry, tempted to knock this guy out, except that yeah, art may be taller, but he doesn't think he's as strong. "for how long?" art keeps questioning. "christ man, look i'm sorry if she's your girlfriend or something, i met her like two months ago, we've been hooking up since then." art's eyes narrow, looking down at him. "stay the fuck away from her." he seriously doesn't know what's come over him, normally he can't stand to look at a girl after he's come all over her, but now, here he is, squaring up to a stranger that fucked you.

art comes to the coffee shop opposite your apartment most mornings, warning of any of the guys that you walk to the door. spamming your phone with more and more texts, he can't take it anymore. arriving at the coffee shop again, waiting for you to kick the guy out of your bed. he catches the door to your building as someone leaves, no more than ten minutes after you showed the latest guy out of your apartment. he runs up to your door, turning the handle, silly little girl not locking her door, he thinks as he enters your apartment. you've driven him crazy, he could get anyone else he wanted, but he's here, breaking into your home because the five minutes he sees you every morning aren't enough anymore. he needs to feel you, breath you in, taste you.

there you are, stood in your kitchen, making coffee in nothing more than a bra and panties. he's already hard, coming up behind you, covering your mouth with his hand, immediately kissing your neck. you try to scream, eyes wide as you extend your neck, trying to get a glimpse of your perpetrator. art fucking donaldson. you push your body off of him. "you're a fucking psychopath!" you shout, trying to steady your breath. his hand reaches between your legs. "why are you so wet then?" he's right, you're soaked. you hate how your body is secretly loving what he's doing. he's so fucking desperate for you, you've never seen anything like it. you slap him across the face, he turns back to you, his eyes are dark and he's smirking. he reaches over and grabs you by the throat, "stop acting like you don't want to fuck me right now." a moan escapes your lips, satisfaction spreading over his face.

"tell me, tell me you don't want me to fuck you and i'll leave." pulling you closer by the grip around your neck. you can barely breathe, forcing your words out. "fuck me, please," it takes seconds for him to spin you round and bend you over the counter. pulling your panties down your legs. "good girl, you even said please." he pushes his shorts down his legs, spanking your ass before pushing himself into you. your knuckles turn white, gripping the side of the counter so hard, his hands on your hips, bruising your skin as he thrusts in and out of you. "such a dirty little slut aren't you, baby," he bites your earlobe, all you can do is nod your head as your eyes roll back. he spanks your ass again, gripping and biting and sucking every bit of your skin he can.

"you missed this dick, didn't you princess?" you're not lying when you tell him yes, he's the best sex you've ever had. he lifts one of your legs on to the counter, pushing himself in deeper. it's mere moments before you're a mess before him, screaming his name as you orgasm. he kisses your back as you do, not slowing down until he pushes himself over the line, pulling out of you as his come drips down your legs. you both stay still for a few seconds, collecting your breath before art spins you round to face him. "will you please, please, be my girlfriend, fuck me," he's kissing all over your face. "art, you've only taken me on one date, and i told you, i don't do relationships." he only stops kissing you to reply. "i don't fucking care," he wraps his arms around your naked body. you hate commitment, it petrifies you, but something, somewhere in you is screaming at you to say yes. "if i say yes, will you stop sitting at that damn coffee shop every morning?" you're teasing him, and for the first time, you see art shy. "i'm sorry, i don't know what's happening to me, i'm not usually this fucking obsessive, you've done something to me." his head is buried in the nape of your neck. "fine, yes, i will be your girlfriend." his head shoots up, kissing you so intensely. "fucking finally."