#Gold Writing

[celestialtrolls]

A Day at the Fair

[precursor]

Infiltration was not your forte, especially through these means. Your usual route was out of reach and left you no choice; no matter what you searched, what keywords you used for the database records of Suits Carnival, the information was minimal. Despite the fact that bigger subjugglator organisations were supposed to be fleet-compliant, all that was written were things that even an idiotic outsider could have found out by looking at a map, and rough estimations with no basis in reality.

So your hand had been forced, and you had gone to visit the grounds themselves. Your fleet uniform had been set aside, donning your usual garb that you took to go sailing instead, topped by an inconspicuous dark hoodie. And the pièce de la résistance: face paint. You knew that walking into a carnival without some kind of face paint was a foolish endeavour, a way to be inevitably noticed faster than you could even search for ‘Creator Ceremiré’. So, a sloppy design was drawn on your face with disgusting oily make-up, forming something resembling a skull… or maybe more of a panda. You had aimed for a skull, but the dark circles painted around your eyes just made you feel stupid instead of potentially intimidating.

But, perhaps it was enough to get you in the gates, and at that point, what did it matter? From your personal research, conducted with your own hacked satellite, Suits Carnival was a sprawling mess of tents, caravans and buildings in construction, somewhere transitioning between an army of travelling clowns and a full-fledged city. There would be plenty of places to sit out of view to instead try and figure out what your ancestor looked like, and then to observe her powers in use.

-

Approaching the carnival itself is a nerve-wracking experience. You drove most of the way, hands clamped to the steering wheel, knuckles white. As you got closer however, your typical crystal growths started to seem from your skin, bonding your hands to your car, and you had to park it somewhere further afield before you started turning it into a useless statue, transformed by anxiety.

The extended journey time did not help your nerves, but one foot goes in front of the other, and the other, and the other, feeling each step inside your ribcage, and eventually, you see the walls of the city in the distance. There’s no feeling of relief that washes over you however, the sheer scale of the task you’ve set yourself dawning on you.

You hadn’t told anyone your plan. Obviously, telling Aelynn would have been foolish; she would have intervened somehow. But you didn’t mention it to your moirail either, and you are well past the point of beginning to regret that. You’re almost certain he could have given you some advice on how to approach a hostile - no, don’t think of it that way, it will only make you feel worse - unfamiliar carnival. You were alone. If you were spotted as an intruder, no one would even know what had happened.

It’s too late to turn back. It’s too late. The gates are in view of your real eyes now, a steady stream of people coming in and out, a van driving past you and flying right through without stopping. Was there no guard, no security? You keep your expression as blank and serious as usual, a task you had perfected from hours of dealing with your superiors in the fleet, and walk straight in, past the real subjugglators, their idle chatter not even making it past your ears as your heartbeat takes the stage.

The hardest part was done, was it not? You’d technically infiltrated the city safely. It makes you want to laugh from the ridiculousness of it. What the hell were you even worried about anway? This was a huge city, of course they weren’t taking IDs at the gate. Where did you think you were again, a fleet base? A weight lifts from your chest as you walk straight down the main road through the centre of the city, figuring that you’ll be able to see almost everything from there. How hard can it be to find someone who calls herself ‘Queen of Hearts, Ceremiré Nostam’? That’s not the name of someone who knows what subtlety is.

In your premature celebration, you don’t see the pair of men that take notice of you, eyebrows furrowing as they exchange a look. It isn’t until one of them, a tall, imposing man with horns that sweep behind his head and a white club symbol on his sleeve approaches you with a stride that way exceeds the speed of someone simply going about their business that you take notice, turning barely in time as he reaches towards your head.

A yelp of alarm escapes as instead he ends up grabbing your arm and yanks you towards him. You barely keep your balance and stumble, your left arm flailing about as a useless counterweight.

“Bold for a new face to wander around.” The sentence is short, but what goes unsaid is enough to send your neurotic brain into overdrive, and while once your mind would go blank at a moment like this, instead, you can feel something, a build up of energy, heat, power, and you almost know that at any second, your arm is about to burst with crystals, and you can barely even hold yourself back and he’s staring at you and waiting and you need to say something or he’s going to kill you and that’s going to be it and his grip is so strong you can feel your hand growing cold as the blood supply goes short an-

“Take it easy Haeren, this one’s my idiot.”

You were so laser-focused on your own impending doom that it completely knocks you out of your terrified state as a sturdy hand wraps around your shoulder, pulling you slightly away from ‘Haeren’ who regards the intrusion with a dark glare. The feeling in your arm, your chest, your heart, the power that was overwhelming you simply dissipates.

“More of a red flag if anything.” But your arm is released, and you pull it close to your chest as you’re guided to the side of someone somewhat familiar.

“Kerros?!” The voice that leaves your mouth barely sounds like yours, squeaky from the fear and cracking from your rushed attempt to collect yourself, and the dog-boy glances at you with an eyebrow raised, before continuing his conversation with the club-wearing man of few words. He’s relaxed, not even batting an eyelid and giving you a slightly reassuring shake as you reel to catch up with reality.

This… wasn’t a person you expected to run into. You didn’t expect to see anyone you knew, and while saying you ‘knew’ Kerros was a stretch, you were aware of him and had seen him in passing a few times, since he was, after all, your twin sister’s moirail. One of them, anyway. But surely, there was no way Aelynn was in a quadrant with someone that was actively a subjugglator? Your mind starts reeling again, but you see Kerros glance your way as some of the more physical symptoms of your distress begin to rear their head, and he wraps up his conversation.

“Anyway Hae, been great to hear your many words of wisdom as always, I’ll sort this one out, you go back to glaring at every poor passerby, yeah?” A raise of the hand in goodbye - a gesture that is not returned - and he turns away, pivoting you towards a sideroad. “Come on you.”

-

It’s not until you’ve turned a few corners that he speaks again, his calm face slowly turning a little tired, worn. “Funny seeing you at the Devil’s sacrament.” His tone is very clearly sardonic, but seeing him drop his act makes you feel a little bit better, no false pretences remaining. “We’re both dead if Aelynn hears about this, y'know?”

You stare at him a few moments longer, before you turn your head to look forward, taking a slight step away to lose his hand on your shoulder. He lets go without resistance, his hand dropping back into his pocket, but he watches you as you try and get your composure back, your expression slowly returning from wide-eyed panic to your usual facade. “Should you be here?” The only sentence you manage to form, and it’s accusatory at best. You would bite your tongue, if that wasn’t an exceptionally foolish idea.

“Should I be here? I live here. Don’t tell her that, or else I’ll drop you right in it with me.” He smiles, but you know well enough that it’s likely a real threat. “I’m taking you back to my place now, you can’t wander around like…”

He regards you with the expression of an artist examining a stain on a canvas, grimacing momentarily before averting his gaze back to the road ahead. “Like whatever the hell you’ve decided to do. You didn’t do your research before coming here, did you? And I mean real research, not begging the fleet to hand you the information on a silver platter.” He finishes his sentence before you can interject, and your face goes warm at the way he just so blatantly calls you out. Aelynn definitely complains to him about you, you can tell. “I thought you were the one with the brain cell, but you’re not so different.”

You don’t know how insulted you should be at that, but before you can come up with a reasonable protest, you’re crossing a driveway towards a small wooden house, something that looks like it might have once been on wheels, but been settled into the ground. Kerros pulls out a clump of keys from his pocket and opens the door, gesturing for you to enter first. Probably because he thinks you might make a run for it, and honestly, it’s not a terribly incorrect assumption to have. You’re not not considering it. But this is truly a hostile city, and you’re not sure you would make it out again.

No choice but to accept your fate, and you walk inside.

-

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[blistexenthusiast]

19th century gilded wax seals

[leilanihours]

Anything with Kate Martin pleaseee!

# GOLD RUSH

pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader

word count: 1780

warnings: none !

summary: kate being the cutest most adoring girlfriend ever while you get ready on live.

⭑ from lani: this was heavily inspired by this video bc kate actually might be the cutest human to ever walk the earth ty

masterlist !

"WHAT IS UP guys, welcome back to yet another game day prep," you greet to the camera propped against the mirror in front of you, "today we are going up against lsu, so there's gonna be a lot of tension in the arena today."

user1: hi y/nnnn

user2: is caitlin there?

user3: team lsu lol

user4: y/n what shampoo/conditioner do u use??

it's become a tradition for you to go live and do a little "get ready with me" on the most highly-anticipated gamedays, as you wanted to get fans excited for the face-off.

the first one you hosted got lots of love, viewers falling in love with your bubbly personality and witty remarks to your teasing teammates.

you were currently in your hotel bathroom, one you shared with your teammate, gabbie marshall. but all the girls have borderline separation anxiety, leading to half the team hanging out in your room as you all prepare yourselves for the game.

"are you on live?" you hear a voice whisper. turning your head, you see kate peeking hers into the bathroom a small smile on her face.

"yeah," you reply sweetly, "you wanna say hi?"

she nods, immediately sliding the door open to join you.

"looks like we have a special cameo today, folks, y'all got lucky," you laugh

"hi, live, how you guys doin?" kate says.

as you begin doing your skincare, you see kate take a seat on the closed toilet in the corner, carefully observing your routine.

"you okay, babe?" you ask with a grin once you notice her puppy-dog like stare. the nickname slips from your lips like first nature, appearing cordial to the camera but the two of you know the hidden meaning.

user1: help kate looks so starstruck wtf shes adorable

user2: omg wait i use that same moisturizer

user3: "BABE"?

user4: not kate just sitting on a damn toilet LMAOO

you and kate have always been close, ever since your freshman year at iowa. on the court you two bounce off of each other's energy constantly, frequently managing to raise the stakes of the game.

fans have noticed it too, of course, with proud taps after one of you makes a shot and suspiciously long post-game hugs.

the team is fully aware of your private relationship, respecting your wishes of secrecy. there have been pointed questions from reporters and interviewers, but you all know how to dodge a personal question one way or another.

a few minutes go by of you telling a funny story from the bus ride to the hotel, consisting of caitlin getting caught on video singing horribly off-key. with promises of posting the recording later that evening, you and kate both laugh at the memory.

as you start on your light makeup look, you begin reading some comments popping up on your screen.

user1: thoughts on reese and clarks rivalry??

user2: wheres caitlin and gabbie

user3: y/n can u say hi alyssa

user4: what are your guys' top 3 music artists

"'thoughts on reese and clark's rivalry?'" you read, "i mean, they've said it before, there's no bad blood between them, just some good old basketball competition," you state with a small smile as you start blending in a light layer of skin tint.

"yeah, i mean some light-hearted teasing and trash-talking always makes a game more fun in my opinion," kate chimes in, "especially when it leads to an increase in viewership."

"for sure, for sure," you smirk at her in the corner of your eye, sneakily suggesting your own dating rumors circulating before every game.

"'top three music artists?'" kate reads, "dude, mine changes 24/7 so i have no idea anymore."

"ooo," you contemplate the question as you look up in thought, "gotta be taylor swift...sza...anddd frank ocean? no, kehlani! wait actually-"

"i don't think you know either, y/n," kate laughs.

"oh whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully, "speaking of music, can you put some on?"

"i gotchu," kate responds, picking up her phone to connect to the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

soon enough, you hear the familiar tune of "gold rush" by taylor swift, a song publicly known to be your favorite (kate knows this, naturally, which is why she played it first).

once she notices your stretched grin and quiet hum to the lyrics, she mirrors your expression, feeling light in her chest at the sight of your happiness.

she stands up from her spot on top of the toilet seat, slowly coming up behind you to observe you even closer.

the two of you make eye contact in the mirror, immediately blushing and smiling like madmen. and, of course, nothing goes unnoticed by the live watchers so comments of you two rush in.

user1: aww the way they smile at each other im crying

user2: okay when is it my turn to get a gf like y/n or kate 😢

user3: not kate stealing my gf..

user4: they gotta be dating right??

you and kate scan over the messages, trying to keep a straight face as to not give away anything.

"kate can you do me a favor and get my setting spray from my suitcase? its in a clear bottle with a pink cap," you ask her, but shes too entranced by your beauty to hear.

"sorry, what was that?"

you giggle, "my setting spray please?"

"oh! okay, be right back, guys!"

you return your focus to your makeup and the song playing, the melodies too addicting for you to not sing along.

as kate comes back into the fairly spacious bathroom, you thank her for getting your spray, placing it on the marble counter. she reclaims her spot behind you, continuing to watch you work as if you were the most interesting movie she'd ever seen.

she wishes she could place her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder to whisper sweet words into your ear. sadly, for the sake of your private relationship, she had to settle for admiring from afar (which is really only like a foot away from you).

"y/n!" you hear one of the girls call out from the bedroom, "can i borrow your eyebrow gel? i forgot mine in my room!"

"sure, it's in here, come grab it!" you yell back. a few seconds later, jada comes sauntering into the bathroom, immediately taking notice of kate's presence and the phone displaying your every action.

"oh my gosh, heyy livee," she smiles, waving her fingers at the camera.

user1: omg jada ilysm

user2: still waiting on catilin tbh

user3: JADA!!

user4: my fav girls :((

as you apply small amounts of blush to your cheeks, jada stands next to you fixing up her eyebrows wih your gel. and, yes, kate is still behind the both of you. she has begun to fix her hair into her signature ponytail braid, quickly maneuvering her dirty-blonde locks with ease after working the style for so long.

"my teammates are so prettayy," she exclaims to the livestream once she'd finished with her hair.

"you're prettyy," jada replies, singing.

"pretty beautiful," kate sings back while you're simply giggling at the girls' antics.

you're too concentrated on curling your lashes correctly to notice that kate was specifically gazing at you with that last comment, nothing but pure love and admiration behind her words.

jada, who is now out of the frame and catching kate's longing stare in your direction, turns around to face her, mouthing: "you're so whipped."

kate playfully shoves her out the bathroom and returns to her former seat on the toilet.

"okay, guys, sorry we haven't been talking to y'all that much," you say as you step back from the mirror, "the last step of my makeup look is to apply some setting spray that, thankfully, the lovely kate martin has gotten for me."

"wait, can i do it?" kate asks, eager to help you out.

"yeah, come over here," you respond.

kate shoots up and over to you and takes the bottle from your hand. her fingers brush against yours for a split second, sending a tingly feeling throughout your body. at this point, you don't even need to put blush on, kate's subtle touches bringing more than enough color to your face.

"i'll tell you when to stop, okay?"

"okay, close your eyes for me," kate mumbles, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder.

obliging, you feel light spritzes of mist fall on your face as kate controls the bottle nervously, not wanting to mess up.

"don't hold back, i'll tell you when it's good, don't worry," you laugh.

almost a whole minute goes by, which slightly concerns your girlfriend.

"more??" she exclaims.

finally, you tell her you've received a good amount, opening your eyes to look at her. you're instantly met those blue eyes youve grown so fond of. and again, you can't keep the smile off your face when she maintains eye contact in an irritatingly addictive manner. you practically forget about the phone pointed on the two of you, stuck in your own worlds.

"gametime, guys, let's go!" you hear a voice echo, snapping the two of you out of your trances.

user1: OMG WAS THAT CAITLIN

user2: i know my wifes voice when i hear it

user3: are we just gonna ignore the eye contact between kate and y/n??

user4: yall r so delusional lmaoo

returning to your phone, you pick it up off the mirror and follow kate out of the bathroom.

"okay, guys, hopefully you enjoyed today's live," you cheer, "make sure to tune in to espn tonight to watch the game!"

you hear an overlap of voices, each one saying goodbye to the viewers.

"bye live! see you soon!" from kate.

"bye my lovely people!" from gabbie.

"mwah love you guys see y'all at the game!" from jada.

"go hawkeyes!" from caitlin.

you snicker as you watch more and more comments about caitlin pour in, your followers going crazy at a small glimpse of their favorite athlete.

as soon as you end the live, everyone begins rushing out of your hotel room and down to the lobby to wait for the bus. hurriedly, you grab your backpack and make your way towards the door, but an eager hand pulls you back.

before you know it, a set of soft lips is placed against your own and two hands are glued to your waist. instead of jumping in surprise, you immediately melt into the kiss, finding comfort in your girlfriend's familiar embrace.

"sorry," she blushes once you pull away, "been wanting to do that all day."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[starry-bi-sky]

Danielle and Danyal's meeting... very, very quickly goes very sour from, basically, the moment Danny steps into his room and finds Ellie sitting on his bed (strike one) and reading the comic books Tucker introduced him to (strike two). By the time she's looked up to address him, Danny has the door locked, and a hand hovering near the knife hidden under his shirt.

She gets her third strike when Danny, in a voice that could make the mountains tremble, demands to know how she got into his room, and she lies (with uncertainty of her decision growing in her chest) that Jazz let her in. Danny's hand shifts closer to his weapon, and he turns towards her fully, and says that Jazz would never let someone he didn’t know into his room, and who was she.

(Vlad Masters had underprepared Danielle for her meeting with Danny -- not out of any completely direct malicious intent, but he failed to mention just how... 'touchy' Daniel could be -- he failed to mention the scars littering up his arms, unhidden by the hoodie tee he meets Ellie in. He failed to mention that along with those scars, that Danny was visibly lean, capable of doing very real damage without the use of his powers.)

(He tells Ellie that he’s adopted, and that he is observant and clever, but ungrateful and has a bad attitude.)

Her final strike occurs when Ellie, trying to keep her facade of cheeriness, tells him that she’s his third cousin once removed. Immediately, Danny has his dagger pulled out, and Ellie finds herself with the cold metal of a blade pressing against her throat.

Danyal 'A.G' Fenton hasn’t killed since he arrived in Amity Park. At first it was because mother told him to keep a low profile, and killing would do the opposite of that. But, he's been slowly learning from his sister and friends over the years the value of human life. So it's become a combination of keeping his head down, and also that life has value to it.

But. That doesn’t mean he can’t kill, nor is he opposed to doing it if the situation calls for it. It just means that he doesn't do it. And ‘Danielle’ is an unknown in his room, claiming to be family to him, and appearing uncannily similar to him and his family. Either someone hired her and she was trying to pass herself off as a relative to him because that someone realized Danny was the biggest threat, or, his false death has been compromised, his mother was unable to tell him, and the league was aware he was alive.

No matter how he looks at it, this Danielle was a threat to him, his sister, his friends, to Damian, and to the Drs. Fenton. Danyal Fenton doesn't kill, but he has no problems doing so.

(Ellie, pinned under Danny’s knee and the blade to her neck, is too terrified to think of phasing out of his hold. Not that it would help, he would just chase after her.)

“You have broken into my home, dared to lie to my face, and when I demanded to know the truth, you dared lie to me again." Danny's scowl could cower even Skulker, his glacier blue eyes burning. "Your continual breath has been a favor from me, that I have graciously allowed, from the moment you entered my room, dahkil."

"So I will ask one more time," he hisses, "who. are. you."

Danielle, only a few months old, unprepared for the ice storm that is "Daniel" Fenton, and his clone in only flesh and blood, and not memories, immediately breaks. And tells him that she was his clone, that Vlad sent her to come capture him, and to please not kill her.

Danny's face twists with anger, Ellie thinks he's going to kill her anyways. Instead, he withdraws his knife and gets off her, stringing out curses in Arabic as he sheathes his weapon back into its hiding place faster than Ellie can blink.

He switches to English as she is collecting her bearings (and contemplating fleeing), and Danny paces the room like a tiger in a cage. "--of course that wretched, arrogant, peacocking little ingrate would do something so infuriating. I should have driven my sword into the shrivel of his heart when I had the chance--"

Ellie, for a moment, thinks of leaving while he is distracted. And starts to slowly creep away. But Danny notices instantly, and whirls on her. His too-bright eyes bore into her head: "Where do you think you're going."

"...I'm leaving."

And Danny scoffs at her, "Why? So you can fly back to Masters and tell him that you failed to capture me, and that I know that he cloned me?" He says, and Ellie remains silent -- that's exactly what she was going to do. "He will destroy you within seconds."

Of course, Ellie rears back in offense, and she finds the footing to glare at him. "He would not! He's my dad, he loves me!"

Danny gets in her face, glowering back with an equal intensity. "He does not." He snaps, "Vlad Masters has not a soul in his body nor a heart in his chest. He would sooner cut off the hand that helps him stand, than to take it along with him."

"If you're really made of my blood, then I will teach you only this: we bow not our heads nor our hearts to anyone." Danny's too-blue eyes narrow, and his voice dips into a hiss, "Especially not to a conniving snake like Masters. Your heart: cut it off, or cut it out. He will sooner leave you to bleed."

Then, he unlocks the door and drags her out before she has much time to act. And as he drags her down the hall he shoots Sam and Tucker a text, and they meet up at Nasty Burger. Ellie is a spitfire, but Danny has her too intimidated to leave.

"This is Danielle," he tells them bluntly as he corners her into the booth, "she's my clone. Masters created her."

Ellie is with them for a week, and somehow throughout that time, Danny manages to actually get her to like him throughout that time. He's callous, blunt, and full of sharp edges that you can cut yourself on. But when he's not spitting venom, he's fretting.

When he drags her back to the house after being with Sam and Tucker, he pulls her to Jazz's room and opens the door to tell her the same thing. "This is Danielle." He says upon abruptly opening the door, interrupting Jazz's studying as he pulls Ellie inside. "She is my clone, Masters created her. She needs clothes."

Then he turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Ellie, in that moment, thinks that now's her chance to flee. But Jazz then squeals, and she is trapped in new arms, shaken around by Jazz Fenton, excited for a sister.

(Ellie finds herself complaining to Jazz that night, shoved into old pajamas. She's in utter disbelief that Jazz could care about a jerk like Danny.)

("He's rough around the edges, but Danny does care." Jazz tells her, combing through her hair with her fingers. "We've been working on it ever since he joined the family, but Danny warms up slowly. He's usually less stoney; I think your arrival spooked him.")

("Spooked him?" Ellie repeats, she doesn't believe it at all. "He has a funny way of showing it, he threatened to kill me!" And she turns around just in time to see Jazz's press her lips into a line.)

("He's... very protective. He'll deny if you ask him, but he worries a lot." Jazz's fingers find her hair again. "What I do know for certain though, is that he wouldn't have kept you here if he wasn't worried about you at least a little bit.")

(Ellie doubts it.)

But Ellie is indeed there for a week, and the day after her initially rocky introduction with Danny, he is a little bit kinder to her. Still kinda a bitch, but he's less harsh to her, if... almost uncomfortable around her. Flighty, kinda.

Whenever she gets mouthy at him though, he looks oddly smug about it and, infuriatingly enough, praises her attitude. He is very, very annoying. And still kinda terrifying. But hearing him shout insults via puns at someone during a ghost fight that happens that week lessens the intimidating factor,,, a little bit.

Things go about,,,, relatively,,,, similar to canon. In the sense that it ends with Ellie defecting from Vlad because she finds out that Danny was right and that Vlad didn't actually care about her. (And that Jazz had been right too; Danny, in his weird, mean way, had been worried about her as well)

Danny looks out of his depth as she talks about how he was right, and he cuts her off with a vaguely uncomfortable clearing of his throat. And gives her the most awkward, but genuine apology he can muster.

"I should've used more tact when telling you about Masters, and I... apologize for threatening you when we met. I was..." he makes a face like he's sucked on a particularly sour lemon, "worried. First about my family, and then later about you."

(Ellie will be damned: Jazz was right)

Before Ellie leaves, Danny puts a hand on her shoulder and tells her: "I wasn't kidding about what I said to you when we first met: you are of my blood, and as such, you do not bow your head nor your heart to anyone."

Ellie looks at him, thinks about the last week, and smiles like she's caught him in a trap. "What about Sam and Tucker then? And Jazz?"

Danny smiles, it's awkward and tilted, like his face isn't used to the gesture. "We bow not our hearts, but that doesn't mean we can't share."

[stealingyourbones]

DPxDC the Olympics AU.

Jazz is competing for sharpshooting

Dick is competing for team gymnastics

Y’all can work it out from there :)

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[sharp-fanged13]

What a wonderful occassion to remember this happened and is canon af:

[sweetmelodygraphics]

[senoleaf]

that one twitter meme but them.

featuring Gold's urge to throw himself head first into danger

[ryllen]

"Don't u know what u're asking me with these?

'Abandon the sea, and stay on land'"

"Are you sure you know~ what u're getting into, Trey-san?"

[x] [x] [x]

[celestialtrolls]

Showtime

[Prelude] [Part 1]

The past couple of days had been a rollercoaster of anxiety, keeping out of the line of sight of windows, and a very fast masterclass in Suits Carnival from Kerros, who of which kept avoiding your questions about whether he was still a part of the organisation that Aelynn loathed so much.

Your dreams are full of purple, with glowing crystals and growing darkness, influenced by what you’ve seen of the carnival only a few steps outside the safe walls of Kerro’s small house. You wonder whether even the higher-echelons within the fleet know even half the extent of what goes on here. Dread has come to sit in every crevice of your thoughts, and your sister's moirail has given up trying to calm you.

Your phone informs you that it's the 13th as you blearily try to rouse yourself out of bed. Today's your final day here. It's the day of The Show. Your chance to look around, observe your ancestor, and then run without ever looking back.

Or you could just run. Just get out, escape before anyone even has a chance to see you. But no. You can't, you can't. What would have been the point of coming all this way? Despite how far your vision reaches, you haven't seen even a hair of the Queen of Hearts. You're surrounded by her fortifications, but the hours you've spent trying to analyse the structure of her creations have taught you nothing.

If you leave without learning a single thing, you're going to-

You don't finish that thought.

"Renn, you ready to face the outside again?" Kerros knocks on his bedroom door - having leant it to you for the duration of your stay - opening it after a moment to stare at you with a tired expression. "They're gonna start letting outside folks in inna couple of hours, you got your shit togeth- like, your belongings... together?"

You raise your head from your phone screen, which you had just been staring at without even paying attention, the photo of your boat docked at the harbour disappearing as you clicked to lock it. The outside world was still there, unchanged, despite your stay here. You'll come to see what you can, and then leave. It's that straightforward.

"Yeah, remind me of the important stuff again one more time?"

You hadn't forgotten, but you found some reassurance in having the instruction fresh in your memory.

"Fuck's sake man." His tone is incredulous, but he indulges you regardless. "Don't mention fleet, don't mention other carnivals. If anyone asks, you have no affiliations. You're just a city boy, you don't know shit about no messiahs or grand purpose. Don't mention Aelynn. Someone says you look like her, you say you've never heard of her in your life. Don't approach the Creator. Especially don't talk to her. Even if she talks to you, just don't... don't open your mouth. Nod at the most, but avoid even that if you can. And don't attend the show. Don't go into any of the buildings."

"Okay."

"And try not to look anyone in the eyes. That's just sensible practice around these subjug fucks though, you should already know that. Centre of the forehead."

"Yeah."

"Don't. Mention. Aelynn."

"Wh-? You already-"

"I mean it. The second someone clocks that you're her brother, I can't tell you what might happen, but it's nothing good."

The seriousness in his expression sends a shiver down your spine, adding to the fear already freezing you.

"Yeah. I get it."

He shoots you a look before he exits the doorway back into the rest of the house, leaving it open as you pull your hoodie over your head and fix your eyepatch in place over the glowing mark in your iris. No paint. No symbol. You're just a perfectly generic purpleblood, visiting a carnival that you saw a poster for a while ago just out of sheer curiosity. Kerros leaves his hive before you, and you're left with the sound of your own thoughts. You glance at your phone one more time, wondering whether the sound of your moirail's voice would calm you... but you reconsider quickly, burying it back into your pocket. His potential fretting over you might make you feel worse.

In the distance, you hear a garbled shouting over a tinny loudspeaker, followed by the popping sound of fireworks. And so it begins.

-

The air is full of lights - quite literally, red hearts floating and swirling around above everyone's heads like fireflies, disappearing when someone's hand reaches up to capture some, only to reappear moments later. Music flows from every building along the main road, not loud enough to deafen, but enough that the shouts and shrill voices of the crowd are muted in comparison. Stalls fill the spaces between each tent and building, selling everything and providing the widest array of food smells, enough to overwhelm even the dullest of senses. Meats and candy, traditional stews and fruits doused in enough sugar to nullify anything healthy about it, huge punch bowls in a variety of suspicious colours, watered down beer in plastic cups, and everything and anything else that someone with a bit too much free time could imagine. The heart theme sticks though, whether that's the shape of the food or the fliers in the air, the balloons that are tied to younger trolls wrists as they dive through the crowd - red is almost, if not more prevalent than purple.

You might be stupid.

It's overwhelming, and you can see all of that all at once, a mile or more around from where-ever you stand on the main road, with no way to shut your eyes or any of your other senses from the chaos. It takes everything you have to try and get your legs to autopilot you towards the centre of the city. Trolls of almost all castes surround you, walking every which way. There's no system in place, and people mill about without purpose from shop to stall, from building to amusement.

If you weren't busy with the sensory assault, you might be shocked that so many non-purples were in attendance. But if this was a regular thing, you suppose they had a reputation for just being a fun night out? Kerros never revealed to you what The Show was, but if there were repeat visitors, surely it wasn't something too sinister.

The migraine starts forming faster than you hope, and your head is throbbing with pain by the time that you finally reach the town centre, the base of the huge tent - a building that externally looked like a typical, although unrealistically large, big-top circus tent - but you could see inside, the centre stage and it's seats, the corridors leading around to different zones, an absolute maze of a building.

It's empty however, though a line has already started forming at the entrance.

It's empty, apart from one thing, that at first, you didn't even recognise as a person. It looked more like the shell of a statue, a wireframe with a strange flesh amalgamation ins- Were those meant to be someone's organs?

The blood drains from your face as you truly start to understand what you're seeing.

You try to focus your attention elsewhere, but the infallible power of the vision you were granted provides you no mercy.

You might be stupid.

Your feet feel like they've become cement, an anchor to the ground that you can’t free by will alone. You have no time to panic, and it is an unpleasant but not necessarily unwelcome experience as a hefty blueblood knocks your shoulder as they push past you, sending you off balance and freeing your legs of their psychologically induced prison. You take advantage of the adrenaline and, while trying to keep your stomach still, you begin a march back towards the exit of the Suits Carnival.

You've seen enough. What were you even thinking? Someone who can create anything, who defied death itself to return after 600 sweeps? That's not someone you can understand.

You pause by a small colourful stall while you wait for people to move out of your path, and a voice brings you out of your thoughts.

"Oi, you seen a ghost boy? Looks like a drinker's used you as a juice box."

You turn your head to look at the speaker, a painted girl who looks younger than you, with odd mismatched pupils and white streaks through her fringe. She gives you a smile, and picks up a handful of boiled lemon candies to hold out for you.

"Oh, sorry I'm not bu-"

"Take them! You look like you're going to motherfucking collapse, and if you're gonna do that then you better do it away from my shop!"

Despite her crude wording, her tone is friendly, and you reach out to accept them, unwrapping one quickly to pop in your mouth. The sharp sour flavour shocks you a little, and pulls your mind to where you're standing.

"Thank you."

"You needed it! Your first show?" You nod. "You gotta come to one of the quieter ones first! Hearts always goes too hard, shit's craaazy!" No one else is coming up to the counter, and the crowd is still swarming behind you. "Only happens once a sweep though, can't be too mad! Queen's gotta flex on all us other suits, just how it is! Clubs’ is more fun though! I’ve only been here a couple of-"

You're content to let her monologue continue, the sour lemon flavour slowly fading to nothing as you nod along, taking the worst of the fear you were experiencing with it.

"Well, you look like you're feeling better, get your motherfucking ass back out there, make the most of it, alright? Oh-"

You're so fucking stupid.

The empty space beside you is filled as a small woman in a wide dress almost seems to materialise out of the crowd and steps forward. The friendly expression of the girl quickly changes to an anxious grin, her hands moving to grip the counter like a vice as if that was the only thing keeping her standing.

You can't make out the words the elder highblood says to the stall keeper. All you can hear is your heartbeat in your skull as you turn your head slightly to look at her with your uncovered eye.

Constantly, things are forming inside the shell that makes up her skin. You can see tiny crystals forming and then dissipating back into dust which flows like a liquid as she moves, like a constant purple kaleidoscope.

It's horrifying.

This is what you wanted?

"Ah, were you talking? Well Asteya, tell him to find me if you see him, yes? And you,"

Creator Ceremiré finally turns her head to look at you, dark purple eyes with glowing lilac rings meeting yours, and it takes everything to suppress every reaction you could have as her mouth forms a grin.

"Come and enjoy the Show, won't you?"

It is more of a threat than an invitation, not from the tone of her voice, not from any part of her non-existent body language, but you simply know it is. Years of fleet training and instinct manages to force a nod out of you regardless. You've never understood Aelynn's explanations about your ancestor better than now.

She disappears as suddenly as she appeared, seemingly content with the reaction, and before the girl behind the stall can turn her attention back to you, before your ancestor can realise that you have a familiar face, before anything else happens, you have already burst into a sprint, disappearing into the crowd.

[hellspawnmotel]

even after settling down, theyre pretty cautious.....

.......it doesnt last long

[chadleys]

›› pairing: astarion x reader

›› wordcount: 1.9k

›› genre: established relationship, smut, fluff.

›› rating: 18+, mdni

›› synopsis: got a request for pregnant tav and astarion taking place after the events of the game. this is that.

›› warnings: pregnant!reader, impreg, biting, mentions of blood drinking.

the grounds of the manse are still, quiet, as you examine yourself in the full-length mirror by the window. cloud cover has been rolling in all day; a storm is brewing. you wish it would just arrive already — you’ve always loved the rain. and any excuse to spend the afternoon in bed with your beloved while rainfall pounds at the windows is a good one to you.

you turn this way and that, examining the subtle swell of your belly. that’s not the only change you’ve noticed, of course; your hips and thighs are a shade larger, your breasts more plump, arms slightly too thick to fit into most of your tunics anymore.

at the moment a sheer, lacy negligee drapes from your shoulders, the bottom hem barely brushing the backs of your thighs.

just as you start to grimace and turn from the mirror, a knock at the door distracts you.

❝ is my love decent? ❞ astarion’s dulcet tones make your legs quake and a tenuous bout of gooseflesh prick your arms.

❝ as though you’d care either way, ❞ you purr. a moment ago, you were desperate to get away from the reflection in the mirror. now, you stand your ground, waiting for him to enter.

which he does, beautiful body sliding between door and frame as his crimson gaze finds you. he sighs, wistfully, and his bare feet make quiet shuffling noises along the hard wood floor as he approaches. ❝ what can i say other than that you’re right? you are utterly indecent and i have to be honest. i prefer you this way … ❞ those last words spoken right into your ear send a shiver down your spine, your lashes fluttering before flying open again.

this. this is why you so suddenly changed your mind about abandoning your post in front of the mirror. it’s been enchanted. ever since your return to baldur’s gate, both your and astarion’s fortunes have vastly improved. not only monetarily, though it’s certainly been fun to watch your coffers steadily rise and eventually overflow. but also your general quality of life; not only do you have a special midwife who’s been helping to check on the babe from time to time, making the periodic blood meals it requires more palatable for you, but every mirror in the house has been magicked to be able to show a vampire’s reflection.

❝ admiring yourself? ❞ astarion’s voice is unbearably low and intoxicating in your ear. you nearly fall into his arms, as one wraps itself around your waist, hand cupping your belly. ❝ … i know i am. ❞

your hands come to brace themselves on astarion’s forearms, running back and forth, though you’re comforting yourself more than you are him. ❝ just the opposite, ❞ you all but spit. ❝ i don’t look like myself anymore. these changes, they … they disgust me. ❞

suddenly, you’re being whirled, losing your footing. but astarion is there, hands on your biceps, drawing you close and pressing his mouth fiercely to yours.

you melt, fingers clutching at the collar of his tunic, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

just when you think he’s sucked all the air from your lungs, he presses you back and allows you to breathe again.

❝ i don’t ever want to hear you talking about yourself like that again. and i do mean ever. ❞ gentle fingers swipe a lock of hair back from your forehead. ❝ you’re carrying my child; how could you possibly be disgusting? ❞

at a loss for words, you let him wheel you slowly back around to face the mirror. chin hooked over your shoulder, his scorching carmine gaze roves over you. slow hands part the lapels of your negligee, traipsing over all of your newest curves. ❝ look at this beautiful body ... ❞ his voice is low and hot, splashing molten waves over your entire body. ❝ and it's all mine. ❞

in one swift move, he sinks his teeth into your neck, making you moan and squirm against him. he doesn't drink from you anymore, not when you need all the energy you have to keep up with the life growing inside of you. but it's enough for him to continue to mark you, never letting your bites heal fully before he leaves more.

❝ astarion ... ❞ his name is a plea on your lips as you lean back into him, a solid pressure against your back.

❝ i can smell you, ❞ is his response, one hand traveling steadily downward, ❝ getting so wet for me. it happens more often now that you're pregnant, have you noticed? i certainly have. ❞

you want to tell him that it's not like the two of you weren't having sex every single night before. but now you're having sex every morning, too. and afternoon. and evening …

instead, you swallow thickly and swerve onto your other path of thinking. the path that focuses on the heat between your legs, thighs already sticking together as astarion slips a hand between them and cups your sex.

❝ please tell me you were wearing this — ❞ he plucks a piece of flimsy fabric from the negligee between his teeth. ❝ — for easy access? ❞

❝ of course. ❞ it hadn’t even crossed your mind.

astarion releases a shaky breath and steps away from you. you miss him immediately. ❝ get on the bed. ❞ normally he would throw you onto it, bthe two of you are taking every precaution for the baby.

climbing onto the soft bedspread of your giant four-poster bed, you allow astarion to come after you, crawling, hunting you as if you were his prey. the softest, sweetest prey he’d ever encounter.

legs spread, you welcome him between them, where his hardness presses — warm and insistent — against your wetness. but he still has his breeches on.

you hook a finger into the waist and tug, letting the fabric snap back against his alabaster skin. ❝ these, i think, need to come off. ❞

❝ why, i do believe you’re right. ❞ using his roguelike reflexes, the trousers are gone before you know it and his erection is jutting up, thick and hard, against his stomach. the sight is enough to make you salivate.

normally you’d put it in your mouth straight away, but pregnancy has made you overly sensitive to nausea and you really don’t want to chance ruining this lovely afternoon. so you pull him down by his tunic and kiss him again, your tongues slipping, dancing, enjoying themselves.

one of astarion’s hands has found itself down between your legs again, and he parts from you to whisper, ❝ you’re so wet … i think i could just … ❞

he trails off, and the head of his cock finds your entrance. gentle fingers splay your lips apart and he guides himself right into you, gliding easily along your slick walls. this is not the first time you’ve gotten wet so easily for him and certainly won’t be the last.

you pull your legs back, hooking your arms around your knees to hold yourself open for him. you’ve made this exact shape with your body many times before, and not always in a bed as comfortable as this one. but the extra weight you’ve put on makes holding the position a touch more difficult this time, and one of your legs slips from your grasp, knocking astarion hard in the side.

❝ gods, sorry! ❞ you reach for him, to make sure he’s okay, but the vampire catches your hand easily and pins it to the bedclothes, fingers twined with yours.

❝ never apologize to me, my love. you have no need to. you could ravish me, and still i would thank you. ❞

the thought makes your toes curl; being with astarion hasn’t always been easy, especially when you first met. but now … especially now that you’re pregnant, his desire to dote upon you has grown immeasurably. you want nothing more than to bask in the intensity of his gaze forevermore … and to give birth to his child, of course, but that is still months off.

❝ i still c-can’t believe, ❞ you stutter as he begins to thrust, ❝ you actually managed to get me pregnant. ❞

astarion covers your swollen belly with one of his perfect hands, and both of you watch your breasts sway as he fucks you. ❝ my dear, i was so full of your blood that night i’d be surprised if you don’t give birth to twins. ❞

the thought makes your head swim, your legs clench around his waist, drawing him in, wanting him so much deeper.

neither of you had strictly known that was how it worked; that the more blood a vampire had drunk, the more virile they’d become. not until conducting some research and investigation after you’d mysteriously missed your cycle that month.

needless to say, however, both of you were beyond thrilled.

❝ careful, ❞ you jest, with your legs still tight around him, urging him on. ❝ don’t want to poke the baby’s eye out. ❞

astarion chuckles, leaning down to lay a chiding bite to your chest, fully on display now that the opposites sides of your negligee had fallen completely open. ❝ i don’t claim to be an expert, but i don’t think that’s how it works, love. ❞

as if to prove his point, his hips start to piston in and out of you. harder, faster, astarion holds your gaze as he all but begins to plow you.

pregnancy has made you sensitive in ways you couldn’t believe were possible. the ridges of his fat cock dragging against your tight walls make the room go fuzzy, the bed canopy above you shifting and twinkling like a sky full of stars.

your hands are in his hair, tugging, drawing a hiss from him as he tosses his head back against your ministrations.

he growls, tight and low, that he wants to see you cum, wants to see you lose yourself for him. and you can’t help but obey.

your entire body seizes, toes curling in the sheets, and astarion fucks you through it with harsh, demanding thrusts. you’re so wet that his cock makes sticky sweet noises every time he enters you.

it takes him no time at all, after that, to finish for you. this time you pull your legs back as far as possible and tell him to cum as deep inside of you as he can, wishing to every god you believe in that he could get you pregnant again now, fuck another baby into you.

the one already inside of you is demanding enough, but you can’t help but marinate on astarion’s earlier words: what if you’re having twins? the thought fills you with inexplicable joy, heart pounding big and broad in your chest.

astarion sighs and slips to the side of you, sliding down to place his cheek against your belly. ❝ see? i don’t think he minds at all … ❞

❝ oh? and how do you know it’s a he? ❞ you can barely catch your breath to ask, fingers brushing hair back from astarion’s sweaty forehead.

❝ i don’t. but if you have a boy, you can be guaranteed i’ll be getting you pregnant again as fast as i can, so that he’ll have a sister to keep him in line. ❞

[thecuriousbeauty]

One-Love! (Harry Styles Oneshot- Tennis player! Harry x Tennis Player y/n)

Synopsis:- This is a one shot inspired by Paris Olympics Gold medalists Katerina Siniakova and Tomas Machac, a beautiful couple who broke up before the olympics to focus on their game, and teamed up in the mixed doubles event to win the gold for their country. They shared a sweet kiss after their victory.

Word Count: 4,219

Warnings: Smut. Some sweet sex, a little bit of angst, and lots of fluff.

_______________________________________________

The sun was bright, warm, and not harsh, falling over y/n’s face through the small gaps of her window blinds. The alarm goes off and she wakes up with a soft groan, expertly reaching out a hand to silence it, without having to look. 

“Wakey wakey, it’s a beautiful morning!”She hears her boyfriend, Harry, and curls up on her side, hiding further under her blankets and acting like she’s still sleeping as she hears his footsteps coming towards her.

She feels the bed dip down with Harry’s weight as he climbs on, and leans over her, his breath fanning her face. “Aw, look at you, my sleepy head.”

y/n has to trap in her smile as she feels his gentle fingers stroke over her hair, moving the strands away from her face. “What am I gonna do to wake her up?”Harry wonders, smiling as he knows she’s playing with him. “Maybe I should go with a tickle attack.”

y/n gasps as his arms wrap around her waist, and hands sneak up to his oversized shirt she was wearing. “You can’t wake people up with tickle attacks!”, she says.

He laughs, pulling her so her back is to his chest. “You’re awake then?”

“No.”, she grumbles, turning around in his arms, and resting her forehead on his shoulder blade.”Why is it morning so fast?”

“Well, we did stay up till late. You wanted to go another round and then-”

“-Oh shut up.”, she cuts him off, and opens her eyes, meeting the forest green ones staring back at her. Harry’s face splits into a big smile as he rubs his nose with hers, something they always do. “There’s my girl.”

y/n has known Harry since years. They grew up in the same neighborhood, and their parents are friends. y/n and Harry didn’t get off to a great start though. Harry and his friends were playing football when y/n and her friend were walking by, and one of them kicked the ball towards them, making it splash onto a puddle right in front of them. The murky brown water fell on y/n’s friend’s new white top. Of course the boys didn’t mean to and they apologized, but since then, her friends wouldn’t look eye to eye with those boys. It seemed like a good grudge to keep at their young age.

y/n had a love for tennis. She loved watching the matches with her dad, and her dad even set up a net for her in the backyard so they could play. He enrolled her in the nearest coaching academy, where she didn’t know that Harry was training as well. 

“Oh Harry! It’s her first day today. Good that you have a friend already, eh?”Her dad smiles as he pats little Harry’s shoulder. The older curly haired boy smiled at y/n, a little smile playing on his lips. y/n tells her dad that she would be okay, and he leaves, promising to come pick her up after two hours. 

“So, you like tennis?”Harry asks, looking sideways at her as they walk inside. 

“Yes. You too?”, she asks, and he nods, putting out a hand. “Friends then?”

y/n smiles, shaking his hand. “Friends.”

“Someone once told me that mornings are the best time to train.”, Harry tells her as he brings his hands up to cup her face. 

“Must be a crazy person.”, she smiles, admiring how some of his brown curls fell over his face. “Yes, she is quite crazy. But I love her.”, he smiles back, dimples popping as his thumb stroked over her bottom lip. “Let’s go, sunshine. Made our smoothies ready.”

“Kiss?”, y/n puckers her lips. Harry looks at her fondly, before pressing his lips to hers in a soft kiss. “I love you too.”, she says, ruffling his hair when they pull away and sits up, stretching her arms above her head. 

Harry and y/n get into their training clothes, after y/n freshens up and they get going to the court where they practice. They did their warm ups, and ran some rounds around the court first. Harry and y/n had different coaches, but they train together a lot of times.

“You’re going down, Styles.”, y/n says, pushing her hair back with her head band before picking up her racket.

“You can try, y/n.”, Harry grins, who was jumping on his toes on the opposite side. 

Harry was easily the best player she had played with, and played against. He was quick on his toes, his eyes were as sharp as a hawk’s, and he moved on the court like a panther. He was something you would call a mastermind, he had moves saved until the last moment and surprised his opponent when they least expected it. Harry had the saddest time of his life when he failed to qualify for the Tokyo Olympics. He got injured during the qualifying match, and he couldn’t be at his best.

“One- Love!", Harry smirks, as he gets a point. 

y/n’s coach thought she wasn’t ready yet during Tokyo, so she was now looking at the Paris Olympics. Winning a medal for her country was her dream and she would do anything to get that. 

“Yess!”, y/n cheers as she gets the match winning point to beat Harry. They always get so close, and playing against y/n sends the gears in Harry’s head turning, and he has to be at the top of his game. y/n walks to the bench, sitting down tiredly and Harry walks to her, giving her a fist bump. “Nice one, babe.”

“Thanks.”, she smiles, taking her water bottle out of her bag and pouring some over her face before chugging it down. “Wanna go again?”

“I’d like to, but I’ve got a session with the coach in the evening, don’t wanna over work myself.”, Harry tells her and she nods. “Shall we go grab breakfast?”, he asks her.

“Sure.”

Harry and y/n get some breakfast, then spend the day with each other before they part for training with their coaches in the evening. 

“y/n, you have six months from now for the qualification rounds.”, her coach tells her. “We have to make a game plan for that soon.”

“I’m at the top of my game right now coach, I just have to keep doing what I’m doing, right?”, she asks. She had won silvers, and golds in the previous tournaments. She was one of the country’s best at the moment. 

“This is the Olympics, y/n, it’s not going to be easy.”, he tells her. “You have to work double as hard.”

“I will. I’m gonna go to Paris this time.”

He smiles at her, keeping his hands together over his knees as he leans to talk to her. She was sitting on the court, arms around her knees. “You know you have to let go of all distractions, right?”

“My social media and stuff? Yeah, I can do that.”

“I’m talking about Styles.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What about him? He isn’t a distraction coach, we make each other better. Besides, we’re competing in different categories, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I want your focus to be on Tennis completely, y/n.”, he stresses. “You can’t do that if you’ve got a love life. And you know as well I do, that Harry will do anything to get this win. He needs it. He’s getting older, and he’s under a lot of pressure. It’s good for both of you to stop dating for a while, at least until this gets over.”

y/n opens her mouth and closes it. “You’ve got what it takes y/n, you are so talented. Isn’t this your dream?”

“Yes..”, she whispers. 

“Then you have to let go of everything and give me your best in these next few months.”

Harry was fed the same things from his coach, and they both stopped seeing each other so frequently. They stayed over less, and there was this air of tension around them as the days grew closer. 

“Babe..”, Harry says. He pauses the show they were watching, making y/n turn to look at him. “Hm?”

“W-We, um, we need to talk.”

y/n nods, sitting up, and Harry takes her hand. He didn’t want to tell her this, but he had to. Tennis was important to him. This could be his last chance to finally make it. He had to make sacrifices. 

“I think we should stop seeing each other.”, he murmurs. “They’re right, we have to focus on the sport. It’s our dream.”

y/n’s heart squeezes in her chest. “Y-You’re just as important to me, Harry.”

Harry quickly looks up to her eyes, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you mean the world to me. You’re my person, and my everything. Trust me, I thought about this a lot.”

“Me too.”, she agrees quietly. “This is it, then?”

“No. No, please, don’t say that.”, he shakes his head, leaving her hand to scoop her into his lap. One of his hands cups her cheek, while the other lays at her hip. “We can get back together..when things are not so hectic.”

“So..we break up for a few months to focus on Tennis?”, she asks, tears springing in her eyes, and Harry’s heart breaks as he sees that. He nodded. “M-My dad..he wanted me to win in the Olympics, it was his dream. He even told me about it before he d-died. I-I have to do this, y/n.”

She nods, understanding. She had the same love for the sport. An Olympic medal is the best achievement for any sports person.

“I love you.”, she whispers, her forehead touching his. 

“I love you too.”, he whispers back, kissing her. His tongue strokes over her bottom lip and she opens up, to let his tongue explore her mouth. Her fingers play with the curls at the back of his head, as his hands run up and down her sides. “One last time?”, he whispers against her lips, eyes looking at hers. 

“One last time.”, she agrees, joining their lips again. Harry’s lips trail down her neck, and her jawline, leaving his marks. “N-No seeing anyone else, right?”, she asks.

“Do you want to?”, he asks, slipping his hand under her shirt to grope at her breast. She moans, pressing closer to him as she feels his boner through her shorts. “No..n-no one’s as good as you, Harry.”

“That’s what I like to hear.”, he smirks, rubbing her nipple between his fingers. “Let me see you, baby.”, he whispers, tugging her shirt off her body. y/n does the same to him, and continues to straddle his lap as he marks her up.

She runs her hands over his muscular arms, his broad shoulders and over his inked chest. “Just like that baby, go down on me, just like that.”, he murmurs, hands moving to her hip to get her into a rhythm. He plays with her breasts and showers her in kisses, groaning against her skin. 

“H-Harry I need you.”, she moans softly. “Please.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Harry picks her up, hands under her ass as he takes them to the bedroom, their lips connecting again. He lets her back hit the bed softly, before hovering over her. “You are so beautiful.”, he punctuates each word with a kiss down to her stomach, while his hand moves to her core, feeling the sleekness of her wet folds. 

“Right back at ya, Styles.”, she says, pulling him closer as she runs her hands down his back. Harry groans, not able to hold on any longer. “Let me get inside you, darling.”

She spreads her legs, and he pushes his dick inside her. She moans at the feeling of being full. Harry fills her up so well. He starts moving in and out of her, his eyes looking at hers. “You feel so g-good, y/n.”, he moans. “So perfect for me.”

y/n looks at the love of her life, her chest bursting with emotions. She wished they could be here like this, with only the two of them in their own world forever.

“H-Harry?”, she asks, opening her palm, wanting him to hold her hand while he fucked her. Harry looks at her, also brimming with emotions. He tangles his hand with hers immediately, squeezing it tight. “I-I love you y/n. I love you so much.”

“I-I love you too.”, she smiles, her body starting to shake as she feels her orgasm coming. She clenched around his dick, and he brought his other hand to rub her clit. Her eyes roll back in her head as she whispers his name, again and again, as she reaches her high. Harry cums after she does, and he lays on top of her, exhausted.

“We’ll be fine, love.”, y/n whispers, running her hand through her favorite head of curls. 

Harry smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “We will.”

_____________________________________________

y/n and Harry hadn’t seen each other, or talked to each other for months. Harry missed y/n so much that he felt a constant tugging in his heart. He trained alone with his coach, and he missed the times when they would mess around with each other. He missed her laugh, the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles, he missed her scent in his room, on his clothes, he missed everything about her. The only thing that kept him going was his game.

y/n wasn’t any better. She was alright for the first few weeks, but then the empty space next to her on the bed, the lack of warmth when she woke up in the mornings, and the lack of cheesy jokes made her think about Harry. She was on a strict diet, and her coach put her on a different workout regime. It was so extreme that after a while, the only thing on her mind was Tennis. Her mind was trained. 

Over the months, y/n’s agility improved along with other aspects, and she became great at reading the game. She was beating everyone she played against. Finally, it was time for the qualification rounds. 

Harry had finished his match, and he had won, so he had booked his spot in Paris, representing Britain. 

“Back to the hotel now?”, his friend, who’s also under the training of his coach asks him. 

“Next match in court number five! y/n y/l/n versus Yasmin Reinardo!”, Harry hears the announcement and his eyes widen. He wanted to go see her.

“Um, you go ahead.”, he told his friend, before rushing off to court five. He joined the audience, making it just in time.

He felt so many emotions when he saw her. It had been six months. His sunshine, his baby, his love. She looked incredible. Gorgeous as always, and she had gained some muscle around her arms. Her hair was tied into a high pony, and she wore her favorite white head band which she thinks is her lucky charm. 

Harry was so proud as he watched his girl on the court, she was on fire. Her opponent was good, but not good enough. 

y/n won the game, and the other girl broke into tears. After all, she also had the dream for representing her country at the Olympics. y/n pulls her into a hug, rubbing her back as she mumbled something Harry couldn’t hear, but he smiled. He quickly went down to meet her, as she wiped the sweat off her body with a towel.

“Congratulations, love.”

She spins around so quickly when she hears his voice, and her eyes melt. She was overjoyed with emotion because of the win. She was going to compete in the Olympics for the first time! And the first person that she wanted to see was Harry, who was right in front of her.

“Harry.”, she gushes, before throwing her arms around him. Harry didn’t mind the sweat, he needed the hug just as much as she did. He squeezed her to her chest, holding her close. “O-Oh my god, I can’t believe it.”, she shakes in his arms.

“You made it love, you’re going to Paris!”, he rubs her back, pressing his lips to the top of her head. He heard the camera click, and knew their photos were being taken. Oh well. He couldn’t worry about that now.

“Y-You?”, y/n pulls back to look at him. Harry grinned at her, dipping his head down to rub his nose with hers. “I’m coming along too.”

She grins back and squeezes him. “I would have been so mad if we broke up for no reason. We get a free ticket to Paris!”

________________________________________

The Olympics will be held in another four months.. They caught up that day during the qualifications, grabbed a dinner together to celebrate, and then they were back to training. 

They would see each other more often now, because all the British representatives trained together. Harry and y/n were both in better spirits now that they could see each other frequently, even if it was strictly during practice. 

They would exchange subtle glances, touch hands when they exchanged things, and talk when they got time, but it was mostly about the game. One month before the Olympics, their team was yet to decide who would play for the mixed doubles. 

“You both have played together before, right?”, one of the coaches asked Harry. “y/n and I? Yeah, in the commonwealth, we won bronze.”

“I think they’re our best shot.”, the guy says, looking at the other coaches and the players. 

“What do you guys think?”

Harry looks at y/n, from across the room, like I’m okay if you’re okay.

Yes, there was their break up thing, they hadn’t kissed in months, there would be sexual tension having to play right next to him as his team member, and she couldn’t let that affect the event she was competing for. But it was an amazing opportunity, she had two chances to get a medal.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. We’ve played together the most, and we make a good team.”, y/n said, and Harry smiled. 

So that’s how they started preparing together, for the mixed doubles along with their own events. 

“Are you nervous?”, y/n asks one night, as she sits on the floor stretching. “We’re flying to Paris tomorrow, Harry.”

“I’m excited about going to Paris, but am I nervous about the actual reason we’re going? Yes.”, he says, making her chuckle. They were the only ones there, and Harry was putting his racket into its case. “It’s gonna be unreal. I mean, we’re getting a step closer to our dreams.”

y/n nods, stretching her legs out. “Any tips from your experience? About the whole adjusting to playing in the world’s biggest tournament thing.”

Harry laughs lightly, turning to her. “Babe, this is my first time too.” He crouches down so he’s looking at her. “But I’d say just focus on your game. You are the best, believe only that. Tune out everything else. You might feel like listening to the crowd who’s cheering for you, but tune that out too. You focus on doing what you’re good at. You’ve sacrificed so much for this, and you deserve to win. Play with that feeling.”

y/n looks into his eyes, and nods as his words seep into her brain. Her eyes moved to his lips, he was so close. Just one kiss. 

Harry leaned closer, but it was to grab her leg. “Let me stretch you out.”

“Y-Yeah..”, she looks away from him. Harry had only gotten more attractive, and she loved seeing him in his short tennis shorts and a loose shirt. His tattoo covered muscular arms made her go weak in the knees.

“Lay back.”, Harry says and she does. Harry’s hands slowly lift up her leg, one of his hands on the back of her thigh and the other on her foot as he applies some pressure to it. She can’t stretch herself out so well. 

“Other leg.”, Harry smiles, keeping that leg down and his hands reaching for her other leg. She lifts it up, and he stretches it out like he did with the other. He was on his knees in front of her. Then he folds her leg, making her knee touch her chin.

“Hold it for another second..”, he hums, counting down. He did the same for the other leg, and she feels like her muscles are dissolving under her touch. 

“Pancake time.”, Harry pats her thigh, and she sits up, leaning over with her hands on the floor, going into something called the pancake stretch. Harry goes behind her, and applies pressure to her back. “Head down..that’s it, hold it there.”

She groans, feeling the stretch. Harry can’t help but smile, she can’t see his face anyway. “Alright, arms up.”

He stretches her arms, holding them above her head, and when he’s done, he kisses the top of her head. “All done.”

“Thanks, H.”, she smiles. “I’m gonna get going, make sure I’ve packed everything.”

“Mhm.” He wishes he could go with her. 

“Soon.”, she promises, like she read his mind, and he smiles as she kisses his cheek before walking away with her bag.

_____________________________________________________

It was crazy. Harry and y/n were in the Olympic Village, competing in the Paris Olympics. It was unbelievable. y/n had to pinch herself when she got there. It was every sports lover’s dream. They got a little tour when they arrived, and she was awed by all the different areas for the numerous sports competitions. 

She stood beside Harry for the opening ceremony, along with their other team members as they were welcomed. She was overwhelmed, thinking about how hard she had worked to get there. 

Her own event was going to be after a few days, the first event was her mixed doubles with Harry. They knew very well each other’s strengths and weaknesses, who should cover what, and everything else. They were well prepared and planned.

They won every game they played, and made it to the finals. 

y/n wanted to win this for Harry. She was going to give it her best. 

“We got this.”, Harry squeezes her hand as she jumps around, minutes before the match. “y/n, we got this.”

She nods, taking a deep breath and looking at him. A medal was sure. If not gold, silver. But their eyes were on the gold. Everyone wants to win.

She walks to Harry, and hugs him. “We’ve gotten this far love, this is the final stretch.”, Harry whispers against her hair. “I am so fucking proud of you.”

“I-I’m proud of you too.”, she pulls back to hold his face. “A-And I can’t do it anymore. I-I can’t live without you, Harry.”

“Neither can I, baby. I need you in my life, I can’t fucking breathe if I think about losing you, ever.”, Harry squeezes her tight. “Now, it’s time to win a medal. What do you say?”

“I say yes.”, she grins. 

Everyone cheers as Harry and y/n enter the court, shaking hands with their opponents. The fans loved to cook up theories about Harry and y/n, being seen out a lot of times with each other and their chemistry on the court is just magical to watch. Harry and y/n give cheeky responses when they're asked about it during interviews. They never confirmed their relationship, but their fans think it's obvious.

“One- Love!”

They score a point, and grin at each other before their hands meet for a fist bump. It was a tight game, keeping the people watching at the edge of her seats. They won the first set.

y/n and Harry are seen whispering to each other and their coaches as they drink their water and electrolytes during the break. They knew where their opponents were weak and just how to win the second set just like they had won the first.

And they do.

y/n screams in joy and astonishment. The fact that she just won an Olympic Gold Medal for her country felt so unreal! Harry was going through the same emotions. He made his father proud, he achieved what he had been working towards for years. 

The whole world was looking at them, but Harry could only see one person. His partner and the love of his life. 

“We won Harry! We won!”, she jumps high into the air, before wrapping her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Harry laughs as he lifts his girl up, spinning her around. They were laughing and crying at the same time. When Harry lets her feet touch the ground, she grins at him through her tears, and he cups her face. “I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Harry.”, she chokes back, and Harry couldn’t wait any longer. He kissed her. He kissed her like he didn’t for 10 months, he kissed her like he couldn’t breathe, and he kissed her like they just became World Champions.

Kateřina Siniaková and Tomáš Macháč- Gold medlists, Mixed Doubles. Paris Olympics, 2024.

[heartnosekid]

the wisteria reading journal by thequirkycupcollective on ig