#NOW I KNOW WHAT A FOOL I'VE BEEN BUT IF YOU KISS ME NOW I KNOW YOU'D FOOL ME AGAIN??????????????

[shellshooked]

winter season ft overdressed gf + underdressed bf<3

[tklpilled]

tis the season (to cry about beefleaf)

[rainy-day-gracie]

- wedding night (2) -

A Venus & Mars mini series

pairing: General Acacius x virgin!wife!Reader

content warning(s): reader insert, no use of y/n, arranged marriage, implied age gap but nothing specific, oral (f recieving), fingering, loss of virginity, piv sex, innocence kink, self indulgent praise kink, Acacius definitely talks you through it, discussions of consent because consent is sexy mandatory, discussion of future sexual acts, AFTERCARE because aftercare is hot, general acacius is in loooooove but doesn't know it yet haha, romantic and intimate as hell, grievous historical inaccuracy because it's fucking fanfiction, canon divergent because duh

a/n: So guys. I saw Gladiator II and it was awesome and Pedro Pascal is the sexiest man alive (in my heart). However, this character's name is not Marcus. I don't know who lied, but we've all been fooled. So in this sequel, the general's name is just Acacius in order to stay at least a little bit true to the actual canon.

I definitely will be writing for these two again because holy shit I made this romantic and I love them so much.

Read wedding night (1) here!

Read bloodlust here!

---

Acacius saw heaven in your eyes, a piece of salvation he never thought he might be able to grasp with his blood-stained hands.

He glanced down your body, wrapped beautifully in your white wedding gown, gold jewelry shining in warm candlelight. For a moment, he wondered Venus herself were tricking him with her immortal seduction.

But the blush of red in your cheeks, the shine of desire in your eyes, the beat of your heart in your chest....

No immortal possibly could mimic such evidence of true, temporary, and precious life.

Acacius had been with plenty women in his lifetime, had thought he understood what desire was.

I want you, you had said.

Now, he thinks he's only scratched the surface.

---

The general-- Acacius -- peered at you like a starving man at a feast, drinking you in, turning the wheels in his head of what he wanted to do first.

He grasped your hand in both of his, studying the golden band on your ring finger. Evidence of your gods-blessed union.

"I want to see you wearing nothing.... except for this," Acacius breathed, his voice low, and dreamy, like the words were slipping from him with no control.

"I'd like that very much," you said, trying to keep your hand from trembling under his touch.

"May I strip you bare, darling?" He asked, calloused fingertips fiddling with the clasp on your golden bracelet.

"Yes."

Instantly, the bracelet fell, and then the other, and then the other. Acacius' gentle touch drove you wild, methodical and sure. He stopped for a moment, glancing at the purity ring on your pinky, and smirked in a way that nearly made your knees buckle.

Glancing back up to your gaze, he held your stare as he pulled the purity ring off. His lips were a hairsbreadth away from yours, letting you smell the sweet cherry wine on his breath.

"Kiss me," you mumbled.

Acacius' smirk remained. "Patience, darling."

He tucked the purity ring into a pocket of his tunic, and turned you around, so your back pressed against his chest. A sigh caught in your throat, realizing he had turned you both to face the full-length mirror in the corner of the bedroom.

"Answer me honestly," he said, trailing one of his knuckles down the exposed skin of your spine. "Have you ever touched yourself?"

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you shivered at his light touch. "Uh..."

"Don't you lie to me, now. It's a great sin to lie to your husband," he whispered, his teeth nipping lightly at your ear.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, I- I've touched myself. I've touched... my..."

"Your cunt?" Acacius mused.

You nodded, your chest rising heavily.

"Did you… like it? When you touched yourself?"

"N-no. I've been told it is not ladylike, to... pleasure yourself in that way."

Acacius kissed the back of your neck, making you arch into his touch. "Oh, my poor darling... there's nothing more ladylike in the world. Don't worry... I will show you how."

A full whimper escaped you at that, and Acacius undid the knots of your dress with a chuckle.

The dress fell, leaving you in only your loincloth, tied at your waist. But Acacius was looking at something else.

His eyes were transfixed on your perked breasts, his mouth slightly open as he wrapped one of his hands around the soft flesh. A high-pitched sigh left your throat, and he reached around with his other hand to take hold of the other breast.

"Do you like it when I hold you like this?" Acacius murmured, his mouth at your temple. He twitched his fingertips to pinch your nipples softly, making you close your eyes in pleasure. "Look at me."

Snapping your eyes open again, he stared you down in the mirror with a small devilish grin. He pinched your breasts again, pulling an answer from you. "Yes, Acacius."

"Good girl," he praised, your cunt throbbing at the words. He let go of your breasts, untying the cloth at your hips until you were utterly bare before him, save for your wedding ring. "Lie down on the bed, darling."

He brushed a palm over your plush backside, guiding you towards the beautiful linen bed. Plenty big for two.

You obey with a shy smile, sinking into the blankets and pillows like you were always meant to fit there. Watching from your comfortable bed, Acacius loomed over the foot, undoing buttons on his tunic, and ties on his robes.

Your lips parted slightly as he exposed the tan, scarred skin of his chest, flickering candlelight bathing him in a warm glow. He studied your expressions like a hawk, watching for any sign of discomfort or displeasure.

As he unlaced the toga and loincloth, leaving him as bare as you were, you had to keep yourself from gasping.

His cock hung heavily between his legs, not even fully aroused but still bigger than anything you had anticipated. He wrapped a hand around his manhood, smirking at your expression, but mercifully saying nothing about it.

“I am curious, my wife,” Acacius began, his voice a rumble. He pulled himself onto the marriage bed, caging you in the sheets with his arms and legs straddling. His eyes never left yours. “What did they say about me? When you learned of our union, what whispers crossed your ears?”

You licked your lips, speaking suddenly a challenge. “Um, that you w-were brave…”

Acacius leaned down, pulling one of your legs over his broad shoulders.

“…and strong…”

He mirrored the motion with your other leg, leaving your weeping cunt exposed.

“…a-and…”

Acacius paused, waiting for your answer. “And?”

“General, I shouldn’t speak ill…” you moaned, wondering if one could combust with desire.

“Tell me the truth, darling. Or you won’t get what you so eagerly want.”

“Th-they said you were cruel,” you stammered, desperately, any wall of self preservation coming down. “They said you took anything you desired, washed your hands with blood, and violence was the only language you spoke. Your rage eclipses that of Achilles, and your eyes blacken every time you raise a banner. You are of Mars himself, shedding blood like you were born to it.”

Acacius’ smirk from between your legs was wicked, and he broke your gaze for the first time since lying on the bed.

He studied your open cunt with a glazed expression, like he was lost in the pleasure of staring at your slick desire.

“If I am of Mars then you are of Venus, my darling.”

His words filled you with affection, the way his knees bent on the bed almost like he was worshiping an altar between your legs.

“So pure…” he murmured, as if the words had slipped from his lips.

Your back arched like a bow as he licked a stripe up your soaking slit, sighs escaping from your throat.

Acacius hummed with delight, fucking you on his tongue lazily, drinking your desire like nectar of the gods.

You buried your hands in his hair hesitantly, unsure of what would be pleasing to him. In all the times you eavesdropped on the married women of the court, never once had they mentioned anything like… this. Never once had they mentioned any of the overwhelming pleasure racking every limb of your body. Never once had they mentioned the lightning erupting over your skin with every brush of his calloused palm.

Acacius trailed his hands down your arched torso, cupping your breasts as his mouth traced patterns over your cunt. Your breathy moans made him chuckle into your flesh, the vibrations making you lift your hips with pleasure.

Throbbing built in your pussy, clenching around his tongue as your desire jumped at every brush of his lips.

“A-Acacius, gods…” you cried out, throwing your head back as a pinnacle raced towards you.

“Relax, my darling,” Acacius breathed, bringing one of his hands down to rest at your soft inner thigh. “I’m going to put my hands on you now.”

“Oh, please,” you begged, unsure of what it was you were begging for.

“Tell me if it becomes too much,” Acacius said, and his hand on your thigh moved.

The gentle brush of his rough fingertips on your slick folds had you gasping anew, pulling lightly on the locks of his hair.

“Such a pretty cunt,” Acacius mumbled to himself. “I have half a mind to just keep you like this.”

You whined in protest, your hips chasing his touch.

“So needy for a virgin.”

You threw your head back as his finger pushed past your slick folds, reaching spots inside of yourself that you hadn’t known existed.

“Oh, so tight, my love. You truly are pure.” Acacius curved his finger, brushing against something spongy, and sensitive. A guttural moan escaped your throat, and he laughed softly. “When the pleasure peaks, do not fight it. Let it take you away, somewhere only you and I exist.”

You nodded at his command, closing your eyes as your head sunk into the linen pillows.

Unrestrained cries erupted from you as he pulled his finger out, and in, and out again, hitting that sweet spot with every push inside of your aching cunt.

When he pressed his tongue to the bud at the top of your core, he pushed a second finger deep into your slick, making you wonder if the gods truly did become man. The stretch of his fingers pricked a pain deep within, making you clench tighter around his calloused fingertips. A slight brush of his rough facial hair against your core was your ultimate undoing.

You called out his name as the pleasure rushed down your spine, into your belly, and built in your desperate cunt. He knew it, too, and continued to thrust his fingers deep inside with renewed enthusiasm. His tongue licked against your clit with hunger, tipping you over the edge.

Cries escaped your lips as the pleasure overwhelmed you, every muscle in your body going taut as the desire took over. Your cunt clenched tightly, chasing his fingers, and your spire curved with tension as the wave of lust claimed you.

Acacius watched with a lazy smile as your core squeezed with your orgasm, evidence of your desire dripping off his lips.

“Acacius… Acacius…” you breathed as the climax subsided, your body relaxing into the bed once more.

“How do you feel, darling?” Acacius asked, crawling back up to press his nose against yours. His brown eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with adoration.

In place of an answer, you buried your hands in his curly, soft hair, pressing his lips to yours. He responded instantly, capturing your mouth with the passion of love and war.

His tongue pushed against yours, pure want seeping from every brush of his lips against yours. You gasped as his hands cupped your hips gently, like he was making sure you were a solid thing he could hold in his hands. Like he was worried you might slip through his fingers.

“I want more,” you whispered against his mouth, and he nodded with his eyes closed, like he was dreaming.

“It will hurt for a moment, but I will be gentle with you,” Acacius breathed, trailing light kisses against your throat. “Tell me when there is pain, or if you wish to stop.”

You nodded against his temple, and he pulled his lips back instantly.

“Say you want me, darling. Say you will tell me to stop if you wish.”

The intensity in those brown eyes, the desperation, had you squirming with desire once again.

You held his face in your hands, tracing your thumb against his rough stubble, studying him.

Acacius' nose was utterly Roman, looking like it had possibly been broken once or twice. Every mark on him was evidence of a man that had seen the Underworld and walked away, but not without a few scars to show for it. Though he had been nothing but gentle with you, there was no doubt he could live up to his reputation of bloodletting.

Still, you held him close.

"I want you, Acacius. I will tell you to stop if I wish to." There was no hesitation, no tremor in your voice.

He sighed in relief, reaching down to his hard cock and bringing it between your legs. You whined at the sensitive touch, and he grunted at the slickness of your folds.

"So wet for me, darling, so perfect," he moaned in your ear, guiding the soft flesh of your thighs to wrap around his hips.

Tentatively, he rubbed his cock up and down your core, getting you accustomed to the blunt feeling. You whined breathlessly, near begging for him to fuck you already.

"Patience, darling. I need to go slow to not hurt you," he mumbled.

The blunt head of his cock pushed past your sensitive folds, and you dug your nails into the strong muscles of his back.

Acacius let out a guttural groan into the heated skin of your neck. "So wet, and tight."

You called his name like a prayer, your head tossed back in pain and pleasure. Over and over again, you called his name.

"A little more, easy, easy..." Acacius moaned, pushing further into your virgin cunt.

You cried out in pinching desire. "S-so much, Acacius..."

"I know, darling. We're halfway there."

You held tight to him, his rough hands on your soft skin distracting you from the stretch of your cunt around his cock. "H-halfway?"

Acacius chuckled, holding still inside of you to let you adjust. "You feel... divine. So, so perfect, my sweet wife."

A high pitched moan escaped you as he pulled back slightly, kissing your neck as he pushed farther in. You clenched around him, and his lips on your clammy skin sent a fresh wave of lust panging though you.

But Acacius stopped, and you gasped in pain again, as if he had hit a barrier in your core he couldn't push past. You knew he could bottom out if he so wanted, but not without tearing you deeply.

Instead of pushing forward, he stayed where he was inside of you, tracing his nose along the curve of your jaw.

When he spoke again, his voice was low, almost like he didn't mean for you to hear his words.

"Do you want to know what I want, darling?"

You were too breathless to answer.

Acacius continued. "I want to fuck you so well that all of Rome hears you calling my name. I want to mark you with my mouth so you may look in the mirror and think only of me. I want fall to my knees and thank the gods that gave you to me. But for now, my darling... I want you to come on my cock with your most divine cunt."

Your cunt, as if on command, fluttered, and you moaned as he was able to fill you to the hilt without a pinch of discomfort.

"Oh, yes," Acacius whispered, his tongue darting out along your pulse point. You cried out in pleasure as he shifted inside of you, holding tight to his strong back.

"You... are... perfect, darling," he panted, thrusting slowly, in and out, in and out. "So warm, and tight..."

"Acacius, please..."

"Please... what?" Acacius teased, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pushed back into you.

"More... more," you said, digging your nails into the muscles of his shoulders.

Acacius responded in kind, chuckling at your desperation. "As my lady commands."

His thrusts into your aching cunt deepened, becoming harder as you grew needy for his strength. You tossed your head back with a high-pitched cry when he was able to hit that perfectly sensitive spot inside of you, and the reaction made him even more ravenous for you.

"Oh, you take my cock so well," Acacius praised, the words making your cunt clench around him. "So, so good, my darling."

As if he knew what you needed before you did, he pulled his chest away from yours, sitting up on his knees while thrusting into you. He looped his wide arms underneath your spread legs, angling you upwards on his thighs and pulling your hips up off of the bed. Your legs wrapped around his waist, and you arched your back off the sheets with a shriek of delight.

"Acacius, Acacius," you cried out, the new angle sending him deep into your core, hitting spots you hadn't even known existed.

"That's it, say my name," Acacius said with a smirk. "Say my name when I fuck you, tell all of Rome who is making you feel this good."

You couldn't stop, the falling of his name from your lips dripping like sweet honey. All you could feel was the sweat of his skin against yours, the calloused of his hands as they gripped your soft thighs closely, and the depths of your core his cock was able to reach.

"You're going to cum for me," Acacius ordered, his words coming out in pants of breath. "You're going to cum for me, because you're a good girl. You're a good girl, aren't you? Letting me fuck her virgin cunt so nicely, such a good girl..."

At his praise, your cunt tightened around his cock, back arching like a bow. As you came, he pressed a calloused hand into the flesh above your pelvis, the pressure making your high all the more intense. You cried out his name, over and over again, the two of you becoming the only people in the world as the tidal wave of pleasure overwhelmed you.

Acacius' thrusts into your aching core sped, became less focused, and you knew he was losing control himself as you came apart underneath him. Your name fell from his lips as he pressed his hand further into the spot below your belly, where his cock seemed to bulge into his palm as your cunt pulsed around him.

"Such a good girl, such a good wife," he moaned. Only when your core could only twitch in response to his strong thrusts did he slow, leaning back over you and capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

A warmth pooled within you, evidence of his pleasure. You didn't know if you'd ever felt such an intimate connection with anyone as you did with him, his kiss burning a brand into your heart as the heat of passion faded.

Acacius pulled away after a moment, breathing heavily against your throat. "Hold still a moment," he warned. His palms pressed against your hips, his cock sliding from you with a slight sting. You followed his advice, your legs feeling weak and shaky.

You studied him as he crossed the bedchamber to the washroom, his broad back dimpling with the movement. Returning with a clean cloth and a faint smile on his lips, the dimple in his cheek made your heart swell as he saw your sprawled body on his massive bed.

"Feeling comfortable?" Acacius asked, eyebrows raised with amusement.

You nod, watching him as he crossed over to you, pressing a chaste kiss against your lips as he carefully wiped your messy core.

Breaking from your lips for a moment, he pressed his nose against yours, and you cherished the gentle, intimate gesture.

"Shall I call the servants for a hot bath?" Acacius mumbled, tossing the cloth aside.

"A hot bath sounds divine, but only if we may take one together," you reply, slightly giddy.

Acacius furrowed his brows in confusion. "What is making you laugh, my darling?"

You kissed him again, long and slow. Time stood still, and it was as if you could physically feel the bond forging between the two of you, forging in a slow burn of a crackling fire. It was warm, and easy, and comforting.

You broke away, studying him in his eyes. "You are simply... not what I expected."

Acacius smiled, that damn dimple curving in his cheek.

The most feared general on the continent.

Your husband.

Acacius kissed your forehead. "You, my darling, are everything I've been dreaming of."

---

taglist (people that asked to be tagged in part 2): @marianastudiesart @joeldjarin @fallout-girl219 @shantellorraine @lanadelslay69-420 @pedrofan

my request box is open! would love to hear y'all ideas for Joel, Acacius, Javier, or Oberyn :)

[rafecameronsslut4ever]

CASUAL pt.2— lando norris (angst)

pairing; fem!reader x lando norris summary: it took lando too long to realise it wasn't just 'casual'. warnings: a LOT of angst, toxic relationship, sexual implication, not proofread a/n: casual part 2 was not really a part of the plan but the audience had demands 🦧also i think this was too long lmao. AND IM SO SORRY FOR THE LONG DELAY OMG

part 1 - casual

miami grand prix: the biggest pr nightmare for every driver—especially lando norris.

the media had been all over him that weekend, going to the lengths of literally calling him 'the hottest catch on the single market'. hollywood stars and instagram models were so desperate to marry him and have his kids that they didn't catch on the fact that he was a 23-year-old racing driver who couldn't give a fuck about them.

because he was stuck on you.

for weeks, he'd waited—hoping you’d reach out, or at the very least, watch his instagram stories. he posted shirtless photos, sun-kissed photos—hell, he even threw out a thirst trap just for you. But you didn’t take the bait. you didn't take the fucking bait.

you hadn't texted him or spoken to him since the moment you walked out of that hotel room weeks ago, so he didn't try to reach out either. "would've been a blow to my ego," he'd told sainz.

but now, he didn't give a shit about his ego. he was tired of waiting.

his eyes darted across the packed club, friends and guests scattered all around. he couldn't wait to get out of there.

he hadn't been drinking. didn't really feel like it. truth be told, he hadn’t been feeling much of anything at all.

pool parties, clubs, yachts, champagne and girls.

he was tired of the glitz and glam of his life, and you were the only escape from it.

but you were gone.

his mind wandered to that morning, when you had kissed him and the two of you had ordered room service. when he had held you for the last time.

he hated how the only thing on his mind was you. how it was the only thing on his mind all through the celebrations, as hookers danced around him and people tried to pour drinks into his mouth.

for fuck's sake, he had won a grand prix for the first time in his life, and yet he was unhappy.

how did he get here?

he looked up, eyes falling on a group of men in the VIP section, the lights illuminating their faces.

everyone could tell something was off with lando. he didn't want to do any of this.

all he wanted was you. you, you, you.

the girl who had left without an explanation.

why had you left, anyway? no calls, no texts. your friends avoided him, and you avoided his friends. it was like the two of you were nothing.

lando norris was many things, but he was not a fool. he could recognise when something was wrong, or when a situation had escalated beyond his control.

he knew that there was a reason why you left, but the reason never clicked in that thick brain of his. what had he done wrong? where had he gone wrong?

"i'm not feeling too well, mate." he muttered, handing the beer bottle back to the guy standing next to him.

okay, maybe not admitting his feelings for you had fucked things up. but, what could you expect? he didn't have the time to give you what you deserved.

not right now, at least.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really.

"what are you waiting for, then?" the other man asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"what?"

"just call her, bro. i know it's about a girl because there's no way any sane man would say no to expensive beers and a million hot hookers."

did lando even know this man? probably not.

"i can't call her. she doesn't want to talk to me. trust me, i've tried."

"have you?"

he didn't know how to deal with rejection. not like this, not with you. you weren't supposed to leave.

"judging by your sulkiness, i doubt you're going to find a girl like her again. and you'll never have her if you're here."

lando didn't have a heart of stone, as much as his social media persona might suggest. he didn't care for any of this. the women, the money, the fame.

he wanted to hold you again. kiss you, tell you he loves you. he wanted to hold your hand. he wanted to be near you, and only you.

so, when his feet hit the floor and he found himself walking towards the exit, he wasn't surprised.

yeah, it was foolish of him to leave a party full of women who were celebrating him (literally) for a girl who had ghosted him, but the need was stronger than his pride.

out of the yacht, he was dialling the only number he'd ever memorised. the phone rang, and then it rang again.

would she be wearing his clothes, or would she have gotten rid of everything related to him?

maybe she'd found another man, finally realising that lando was a bad investment.

as the phone rang, you were hidden in your apartment with blankets wrapped around you and a youtube video playing in the background.

it had been months since you'd heard the word 'casual' leave his mouth. months since you had fled london and monaco to move to miami.

at first, his words had echoed in your mind constantly, and you'd cried yourself to sleep a few times more than you'd like to admit.

but just like every heartbroken poet in history, the hurt faded and the pain slowly morphed into hatred. and anger.

you wanted to slam your head against a wall. scratch that, you wanted to slam his head against a wall.

it was so stupid, and you hated yourself for believing he'd been genuine.

it was just sex. that's all it ever was. it truly was just casual.

the phone was still ringing. your finger hesitated over the answer button. you weren't going to answer it.

it wasn't worth it. you didn't want to hear his voice. didn't want him to have the satisfaction of knowing that his words had hurt you. you didn't want to know if he was sleeping around, if his girlfriends were prettier than you.

so the line went dead.

lando stood by the harbour, watching as yachts and ships sailed past him. the air was humid and his t-shirt clung to his body, the heat almost unbearable. the sound of waves, the distant laughter and music, and the sound of his ragged breaths.

he ran his fingers through his hair, looking around. where was his car?

he had to find his way back to his hotel. he was a mess, and his clothes were sticking to his skin. he needed to fix his appearance, buy a bouquet a flowers.

he checked the time on his watch, and cursed as he saw the numbers. it was almost 3 am. he wouldn't find flowers anywhere at 3 am.

"fuck it." he said, running over to his car. the drive was quiet, save for the low hum of music and his occasional swearing when someone drove a little bit slower than he'd like.

lando norris had the world on his fingertips. he could have any girl he wanted. anyone, really. but he only wanted you. he was a hopeless romantic, and you were his muse.

when he pulled up outside the apartment, his nerves were going haywire. he ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath before getting out of the car.

he knocked twice on the door and when it opened, his eyes lit up.

you stared back at him, sleepiness in your eyes and confusion etched on your face.

and god, did you look gorgeous.

he loved you, he realised. he had to cross his hands behind his back to stop them from reaching out and holding you close.

"lando?" you breathed out.

he had grown a slight stubble since you last saw him. his hair were still the same, except a little bit longer. his blue eyes were wide as he looked at you.

"hey," his voice was shaky.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

he wanted to say so many things. ask you why you left, where it went wrong, why you moved to miami. he wanted to declare his love for you, press his lips to yours, hold you by the waist. he wanted to hear you say that you loved him too.

he was so in love with you, and you had no idea.

"lando? why are you here?" you asked again.

he was at a loss of words. what could he say? he couldn't exactly just stand there and say nothing.

"because," his voice cracked, "i miss you."

your throat went dry. he could not just say that.

it had been weeks. weeks of him not contacting you, weeks of you not speaking to him. the phone calls had stopped, the text messages had stopped, the late night chats had stopped. everything was just gone.

and now, he missed you?

tears welled up in your eyes, a lump forming in your throat. you shook your head, pushing back the tears, "go away."

"what? no, wait. wait. don't do this." he pleaded, his voice fragile and desperate, like a child trying to avoid bedtime.

"lando-"

he interrupted you, voice louder than before. "can we please talk about this?"

"what is there to talk about?" you were raising your voice. you hated him. how could he act like this after all that happened?

"everything. just—please, can i come in?" he sounded so pathetic. he felt so pathetic. his hands were slightly hovering over the door, ready to push it open and walk in.

the request took you by surprise. "i-no."

you missed him. there was no denying that.

you wanted him to tell you it was okay. wanted to go back to that night in his mclaren, the night he told you he liked you. wanted the weekends spent in london with his family. you wanted him, all of him.

his curly hair wrapped around your fingers, blue eyes staring at you, soft lips kissing you. his cold hands grabbing yours, and his voice saying your name. you wanted it to not be casual.

"i just want to talk to you."

he was drunk. there was no other way he would've showed up here, let alone begged to talk to you. the fact that he needed to be drunk to have this conversation made your blood boil.

"do you still have my jacket?"

of course, you still had his stupid jacket. the one that had his smell embedded into the fabric. it was an exclusive print mclaren had given him, and he had swung it around your shoulders after the night you had first made love to each other.

but he didn't care about the jacket, and neither did you. it was just a reminder.

you were silent for a while, taking in the sight of each other. it was his breath mingling with yours.

"i love you." he whispered.

your breath hitched in your throat, the tears finally falling out of your eyes as you sighed.

"i love you," he repeated to himself. "yes, i do. and i've known that since the day i met you."

you choked back sobs as you shook your head, "you're drunk, lando."

"i'm not," he chuckled, "maybe a little, but not enough."

then, he added, "i mean it. i love you." his voice was steady. he truly meant every word. but he didn't know what would happen now.

"what do you want me to say, lando?"

he sighed, "anything."

you laughed bitterly. anything, he said.

anything would've been better than what had happened.

"i don't think i can do this, lando."

"we can take it slow."

"you've never done slow."

he fell silent again because you were right. he'd never done slow. he didn't know how to take things slow. he was a fucking formula 1 driver, after all. slow wasn't something he did. he'd always lived life like it was the last day. and that's how he had lost you.

"i'm sorry," he began, his voice breaking. "i should've been a better person. i'm sorry for everything i did. i should've given you more, i-i should've loved you more, because you deserve so much more. i'm so, so, sorry."

"lando," you whispered, "it's not—"

"don't make excuses for me, please. i love you, i realy do. and if i have to spend the rest of my life proving that, i will." and he meant every word. "i just want you back."

your mind was racing, a million thoughts running through it. it was like a movie. his blue eyes, his voice, the desperation in his tone, the way he stood before you.

"okay," you muttered.

"wait, okay? does that mean—"

"you're gonna have to work for this," you said.

"i know, and i will. i promise."

you sighed, rubbing your temple. this wasn't a good idea. "get in."

lando's face lit up, and before you could change your mind, he had walked into the apartment. he hadn't really been here before, considering you moved here after the two of you had stopped talking. but the apartment was lovely, homely. everything you.

you closed the door behind him, watching him look around the living room.

"how'd you know where i live?"

he chuckled, turning to face you. "i'm a famous driver. i have my sources."

"i'm sure." a tense silence followed, neither of you knowing what to say.

"i'm not letting this happen again," he blurted, "i'm not. i don't know how, but i won't."

"i don't believe you." you scoffed.

"fuck, baby, what do i have to do for you to believe me?" he stepped towards you, closing the distance.

"stop calling me that."

"you are my baby." he tried to joke.

"lando, i'm not joking."

"i'm serious too," his voice was sincere, "i love you, and i'll do whatever it takes for you to believe me."

you had been through a lot together. the highs, the lows. you had seen him at his best, and at his worst. the good and the bad.

he moved closer, reaching a hand out to hold yours. you didn't know why, but the moment his hand touched yours, it was like a switch had flipped inside of you.

you let his hand wander over yours like a ghost, his calloused fingertips tracing over your knuckles. he intertwined your fingers together, eyes casted down.

"i've never cared about anyone the way i care about you." he admitted in a soft voice.

and then he pressed his lips to yours. his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

and god, did he taste the same. lando had a way with his lips. it was a talent. he kissed you like he needed your lips to survive. he was desperate for your touch as if he had been starving without it.

you were so lost in the feeling that you hadn't realised how far you had pushed him until the back of his knees hit the couch, and he fell on top of it.

his eyes were wide, mouth hanging open. his shirt was halfway unbuttoned, exposing his chest and toned abs.

the two of you stared at each other, eyes searching the other's.

"i love you." he murmured for what seemed like the hundredth time that night.

maybe it was the way his blue eyes bore into yours, or the way his lips quivered, or maybe it was the fact that he had driven across the city to say this.

but for the first time that night, you believed him. suddenly, the anger was gone. it was all gone.

"i love you, too." you whispered.

it was the only thing the two of you needed. the confirmation, the reassurance. the love.

you leaned down and connected your lips once more, hand reaching up to his curls and tugging lightly. he moaned into the kiss, pulling you on top of him.

your tongue entered his mouth, the taste of him making you lightheaded. his hands roamed over your body, the feeling of his skin against yours.

"baby," he whispered between kisses, "i want you so bad. i've waited so long."

his lips trailed along your jaw and down your neck, sucking marks into the sensitive skin.

"i want you," he murmured against the crook of your neck, "so fucking bad."

but he pulled away, flipping the two of you over so he was on top of you. he took off his shirt, and rested his head on your chest. he cleared his throat, "i should've asked this question earlier, but are you single?"

"yeah." you chuckled, running a hand through his curls.

"so, can i be your boyfriend?"

"lando norris," you hummed, "did you finally get the guts to ask me out?"

"yes," he smiled, lifting his head up to look at you, "yes, i did. will you be my girlfriend?"

"you're a dork."

"that's not an answer."

"yes," you laughed, "yes, i'll be your girlfriend."

lando grinned, and you grinned back.

it wasn't casual anymore.

(u guys im so sorry if i've tagged someone who doesnt want to be tagged i just had no idea how to let non-followers know part 2 is out bcs tumblr is not letting me reply to comments😭if anyone wants their tag removed, feel free to dm me!! i hope u liked this) @oscarpiassrri @meglouise00 @f1fantasys @technicallypleasanttree @ggaslyp1 @obxstiles @nataliambc @prudyhoo @idkwtdwml123 @ushygushybaby @emilyroxy @yootvi @fishingarden @pillowprincess4him @herexpertcollector

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Circus

I've been wanting to draw some of my dolls for the longest time and this turned out to be my most detailed artwork so far :') And since I really love the circus, I thought I could turn this into an interactive story, too. Let me know what you think! Based on classic stock characters from Italian theatre, Commedia dell'arte. Content: gender neutral reader, horror, dark comedy, human and monster romance

You're finally here! Come on in, don't be afraid. Where is everyone else, you ask? Why, you're our only special guest, Darling (Y/N). This is all for you. Come, do not upset the Ringmaster. We will show you everything.

A night carnival? You've never heard of such a thing. Nonetheless, curiosity got the better of you when you found the trampled poster on your way back home. The actual message almost escaped your attention; you'd been too focused on the thick, ornate border, and the colorful, swirling patterns intricately filling the page.

"Last night in town! 'Wizard of Ozz' Night Circus, a mesmerizing show that will keep you glued to your seat. We're still searching for our Columbina. Perhaps you could become part of our story?"

Might as well check it out. Which is why you're currently here, in the outskirts, trying to find a walkable path among the weeds. It's dark and you can barely see anything in front of you. They're not trying very hard to provide an inviting atmosphere, you think to yourself.

Eventually, you discern a glimmer of light in the distance. You have found the circus tents.

The campsite is quiet and still, causing you to hesitate in your decision. Is it truly open?

There's a faint murmur coming from the main entrance. A small, melancholic Pierrot - when did he show up? - awaits by the heavy curtain, pale hands stretched out.

"Your ticket, Columbina", he announces with decorum. "Me and Arlecchino will show you any tent you want to visit. We are here to entertain you."

He ponders for a moment, before adding:

"I'm sure you'll like him more. He's a very alluring fellow. Me, on the other hand...Oh, forget it", he mumbles through pouting lips, ushering you inside.

"Aha! There's the star of our night! Our Columbina!"

A tall man in a pompous, glittery costume bounces towards you and lowers himself with a theatrical bow, giving your fingers a quick kiss. You pull your hand away, visibly bothered by the odd gesture.

"You keep calling me that. I'm (Y/N)", you argue.

"Yes, yes, of course we know that. Do ya take us for fools?" the Harlequin asks, kicking one foot in the air. The jingle of the bells at the tip of his shoe echoes across the hall. "You have, however - you must understand, yes? - you've entered Ringmaster's Circus. From now on, you are the Columbina to our play."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief.

"Just like that? Why me, and not someone else?" you scan the surroundings, pursing your lips. "Where are the others?"

"Others?"

Harlequin makes an exaggeratedly shocked face and tilts his head towards Pierrot.

"What are they saying? You're the only one here, Columbina darling. After tonight, we-"

Pierrot's hand lands firmly on his friend's lips.

"You always talk too much. Always, always! And yet, you're the favorite. Of course you are. Oh, what pity, what misfortune", the pale young man laments. "We're wasting precious time."

They both burst into a little dance; a rather silly one, you think with an amused smile. Then, they place themselves besides the entrance, each one standing at one end, back straight and chins raised.

"Go on, go ahead, Columbina darling. This is your carnival. Choose any tent you'd like."

Pulcinella's Tent

The stage is pitch black, save for one spotlight contouring a patch of ground. You can see a large, colorful ball, and two feet clumsily rolling their way atop of it.

You chuckle at the sight. This must be the clown.

"No one can compete with Pulcinella's juggling", Pierrot declares somewhat monotonously. "His acrobatic spectacle has left many guests speechless, acting with such dexterity that one must wonder: is this truly the work of two hands?"

Lights flicker, allowing you to catch glimpses of smaller balls being thrown around. Juggling so many balls while bouncing around is indeed impressive.

"Rest assured, this is the art of one single man. Although four eyes are better than two."

The shadows are abruptly swallowed by spotlights, and you squint your eyes, adjusting to the brightness. A two-headed man continues his performance, throwing you the occasional cheeky smile.

"Ah, that is..." you place a hand over your mouth.

"A bother, truly", the Pierrot remarks, sitting next to you. "They're complete opposites."

He observes as both Pulcinella's heads tilt in your direction, visibly entranced. He sighs deeply:

"You'll love them either way. They're funny and entertaining, unlike me...A pathetic miser. Oh, if only I had half their charm!" he bemoans with a soft sob.

"Hey! Don't sadden my beloved like that", Pulcinella barks, jumping off the ball and running towards your seating with a comically merry jingle to accompany him.

You cannot help but marvel at the man in front of you.

"Enough of this, I've had enough! You don't get to decide yet, Pulcinella", Pierrot exclaims in sudden panic. He claws your wrist tightly and pulls you after him. "It's time to see other tents."

Sandrone's Tent

You peek behind the heavy curtain and freeze. Are your eyes deceiving you? Someone is idly resting at the bottom of a large aquarium, showing no struggle despite being underwater. The mysterious man senses your presence and emerges to the surface.

"Would you look at that! I can't remember the last time I had a visitor."

He gestures for you to come closer.

"Are you the new guest? Our Columbina?"

"I don't know what you're talking about", you speak up with hesitation, eyes glued to the scaly tail that seems eerily genuine. "I think I'll be leaving now."

"Leaving? Didn't the Ringmaster already tell you?" The merman claps his hands, amused. "You're naïve, I like that a lot. Perhaps this time I'll be the one to have you."

He abruptly grabs your wrist, and you jolt at the feeling. His hands are ice-cold and moist.

"Let me have a look at you, won't you? I'll help you hide from the others if you're good and listen to me."

You feel a pair of hands sinking into your shoulders, and you're ripped away from the merman. Harlequin's voice rumbles deeply across the room.

"You're being a fox again, aren't you, Sandrone? Hands off our guest! You don't get to pick yet", he scolds in a low growl. "Ringmaster won't be happy about it."

"Go on then, tell on me! Ringmaster's good boy, eh?" the dark-skinned man smirks mockingly and slams his tail against the glass. "Put a collar on that one, Columbina. See how well he barks", he snarls, then slides back underwater and promptly vanishes.

Harlequin's grip on your shoulders becomes tighter for a brief moment. You can tell he's tense.

"Let's get you out of here. Don't listen to a word he says, Columbina darling. He lies, you see? No one trusts him. You should rely on me."

Pantalone's Tent

You gawk at the impressive height of this tent, head nearly spinning from tilting yourself all the way back. Ah, this must be the trapeze artist. Indeed, one of the two handles is dangling above you, and it occurs to you there's no safety net. A tall, lean man swiftly pounces across, reaching for the trapeze. His movements are slow, yet calculated, and you can't help but wonder if he might actually be flying instead.

Upon closer inspection, it appears he has no arms.

"Madness", you find yourself shouting. "Stop this nonsense!"

He gracefully wraps his legs around the bar, swinging back and forth with a confident smile.

"You doubt me, Pantalone himself?"

With another thrust, he lets himself go, spiraling down against your terrified protests. His heeled shoes clack against the hard tile. Lastly, he stretches out his bandaged stumps, as if signaling his successful landing.

You find yourself bowing to the grand gesture.

"Yes, yes, it's rather impressive, isn't it?" Pierrot follows behind you in his usual dull tone. "Pantalone is our master acrobat."

He lifts his gaze and notices that the man didn't bother waiting for a full introduction; he's already standing before you with a flirty grin.

"...and a charmer, I suppose. What, you're already doing your tricks?"

The sallow clown squeezes himself behind you two protectively.

"Shoo, shoo! Columbina is merely visiting."

He lightly pushes you away, towards the exit. You throw one final glance at the mysterious individual; he waves with his residual limb, and winks.

"You know where to find me, love."

Il Capitano's Tent

You feel a radiant heat coming from this tent. In the middle of the ring stands a grand cage. An animal of sorts? You keep your distance, observing from the benches.

A monstrous giant stumbles within your view with heavy steps. A thick, scaly tail rattles the bars of the cage, swinging itself with the precision of a bullwhip.

"Il Capitano himself!" the Harelquin announces theatrically, bending his arms in the direction of the blue beast. "The strongman, the fire-spitting artist, a most devilish creature captured and chained by our Ringmaster."

"Is this one mine?" the monstrous man pins you down with a predatory gaze.

"Perhaps", Harlequin spits out bitterly. "They decide, not you."

You squirm in your seat, suddenly much smaller under his intense stare. The charismatic guide's smile falters for a brief second, replaced by an envious grimace.

Il Capitano inhales deeply, expanding his torso and contracting his muscles. His fanged mouth then unhinges, releasing a great flame which spreads all the way to you. You're almost tempted to reach towards it, feeling the sting with your very fingers.

"Amazing", you mumble, still mesmerized by the spectacle.

This was no cheap trickery. Capitano is truly a one-of-a-kind artist. No human could replicate such a feat.

The beastly creature holds onto the bars of his cage, shoving his snout outside and grinning. Puffs of smoke escape between his teeth.

"Come down here and I can do even more, little one."

Harlequin gasps and gestures for you to stand up.

"Outrageous! How dare you-!"

He urges you to follow him outside. Enough monstrous sights for now.

"Shall we head towards the other tents, darling?"

Harlequin walks ahead, deep in contemplation. Pierrot scurries after him, whispering the remaining choices. Your shoulders are heavy, and you're quite tired from the eventful night.

You notice a little opening between the lavish curtain folds and decide to sneak away. They needn't know about your departure. You stumble around dark halls, following the cool breeze of the outside, until you're met with the starry sky.

Your path is blocked by two large poles, so you step to the right. Your body freezes in terror when they move with you. Slowly, you raise your head and follow the black shapes, and realize they're legs.

Far, far above ground, towering over the entire circus, you see two glowing eyes.

It's the Ringmaster.

"Bad, bad Columbina", he reproaches.

The voice is off, like an old, broken record reverberating against your eardrums. A cold shiver runs across your spine.

"I'm sorry", you blurt out in fear.

A long, bony hand appears before you, twitching with a loud pop. You wrap your hands around a finger, desperate to not anger this unholy creation.

"Let's take you to your caravan. We're leaving tomorrow."

Oh, God. What have you done?

Now, now, don't fret. There's nothing to be afraid of. Come, put that frown aside. Everyone loves you here. After all, you're their most precious Columbina. What's a Circus without its treasure?

[cupidddd-d]

oh heart, and then it falls

in which theodore nott is actually nice to you?

gn reader but it's mentioned that they wear lip gloss !!

"ow, fuck!" you cried out as your potion bubbled over the edge of the cauldron, oozing onto your hand. tears of pain sprung to your eyes, and you could already feel the burns forming underneath the thick sludge sitting on your skin.

"nott, you were supposed to be watching the potion while i wrote notes!" embarrassingly, your voice broke, and you could feel a tear dripping down your face. your notes were ruined, your hand was burnt, you were crying in front of the boy who was most likely to make fun of you for it, and your potion was completely unsalvageable. you may have been hallucinating, but you could have sworn that you could smell burnt flesh.

"huh?" theodore's head jolted up from his conversation with draco. his eyes glanced from your hand to your face, and then back down again. "merlin...we've got to get you to the hospital wing..."

you walked in silence as he led you out of the hospital wing, staring down at where he was applying bandages to your hand. he had poured a numbing potion over the wound, but memories of your previous pain echoed around your body.

"why are you doing this, nott?" your mouth was dry as you stared down at his gentle movements. what happened to the boy who practically fed off of your despair?

"i mean...i'm not a total monster. i don't like you, but it's not like i want you to be hurt." he let out a little scoff, his eyes darting to the side.

"could've fooled me," you rolled your eyes. "remember that time when you pushed my head into the cake on my birthday?" a little smirk was starting to cross your lips.

"that was 9 years ago, and i apologized!" he protested, a matching grin growing on his face.

"only after your mother forced you to," you retorted, rolling your eyes.

"at least i still apologized, right?" he shrugged, giving you a charming, well-practiced smile.

"shame, i still don't accept your apology," you mused.

the two of you sat in silence for a moment, letting him fully concentrate on fixing your hand.

"why are you doing this, nott?" you asked again, the question still weighing on your mind. for some reason, his previous answer didn't feel like the full truth. your eyes bore into his, your gaze so beseeching that it makes him divert his attention back to your bandaged hands.

"you know why." he said simply. quietly. his eyes were dark as they flit back to yours.

you inhaled sharply. if he was saying what you think he's saying... "no, i don't." your voice came out trembly and embarrassingly weak, and you kicked yourself mentally.

"i don't really have to spell it out for you, do i?" he was moving closer and closer. "stop me if you don't want this--and you should probably do it now, because i've waited so long for this moment, i think this might be your only opportunity."

his breath was fanning your lips now, his gaze stuck on your parted lips. you leaned in, and that was all it took for him to dive into you. his lips seared into yours, the kiss fervent. his hands were everywhere, cupping your jaw, pulling your waist to bring you closer to him, wrapping in your hair.

your eyes were wide as he pulled back, a smug smirk on his face as he licked his lips. "what is that, cherry flavored lip gloss?"

"nott-" you managed to stutter out.

"come on, darling. after what we just did, i'd expect us to be past the last-name basis." he snickered, leaning down to capture your lips with his once again.

[cherrysnip]

sincerely yours - choi seungcheol

pairing: seungcheol x afab!reader

content: married life, dad!seungcheol's reaction when your daughter received a love letter.

(spoiler alert: he freaked out😭)

word count: 1.5k

Tuesday nights have always been Seungcheol's turn to wash the dishes. In retrospect, no one can even make him do a single household chore when he was younger. He grew up surrounded by helpers who were paid to do the job so he didn't try as much to learn them.

However, that changed when he married you. Probably it was because of how you were raised differently from him but you’re not comfortable of having other people hovering around your house to "do things you can do on your own". And unwilling as he was at first, Seungcheol just obeyed what you wanted because well, that's how whipped he is. (He'd undoubtedly say yes had you even declared the sky green.)

So here he is, seven years later, a "master" on the craft of washing the dishes. It's silly how such a simple thing could make him so happy but really, it wasn't easy for him to reach this point. He broke plates after plates that he swore at one point he saw you gritting your teeth like you were one thread away from strangling him.

But he said that every time you would smile at him and utter a soft thank you, hell, everything's worth it.

"Why are you smiling like a fool?"

He turned to see you leaning on the counter watching him with suspicion. A sheepish smile escaped from Seungcheol's lips as he reached out for a dry towel to wipe his hands.

"You don't have to know," he teased.

Your brows furrowed, "You better not be thinking of another woman or else..."

Seungcheol chuckled and walked towards you. He leaned, placing his hands on your sides, caging you on the counter. The action was so sudden it caught you off guard.

"How would I do that when you're everything I think about every waking day of my life? Hmm?" He planted a kiss on your shoulder which made you gasp. Years into your marriage but this little things your husband does still makes you giddy like a teenager. And of course, the blush spreading all over your face didn't escape Seungcheol, causing him to grin wider. Your reaction to his touch will always be his favorite drug.

"Now, you're just flattering me..." 

"I'm being sincere," Seungcheol insisted and met your eyes. "I still can't believe that after all these years, I'm actually married to you. How can I be so damn lucky?"

After he said that, your pouting lips turned into a wide smile. He is such a dork, you thought. You can't resist it anymore so you cupped his cheeks to kiss the tip of his nose. Being the competitive guy that he is, he did the same to you while chuckling. 

"I'm luckier to have married you, Cheollie. You're everything I've dreamed of a husband."

"Are you sure? I remember six years ago, you said you'll divorce me because I forgot to clean our room."

"Well, you already learned your lesson, didn't you?"

Seungcheol nodded, "I most certainly did."

"Oh by the way, I have something to tell you," you said a little bit later. Your arms were already wrapped around Seungcheol's waist with your chin on his broad chest.

"Baby no. 3?" Seungcheol asked hopefully and he only received a pinch on his side. "Aw! I'm just kidding sweetheart!"

"Tss," You removed yourself from Seungcheol but you still didn't let go of his arm while you gently dragged him to your living room. You picked up something from your coffee table and even though he was basically towering over you, he still wasn't able to have a clear sight of what it was because you were quick to hide it on your back.

"What is it?” He curiously asked but instead of answering him immediately, you slightly squeezed his arm."Promise me you won't have a heart attack?"

"How can I promise that sweetheart? Come on."

"Well, okay. Just please don't pass out."

"You're just making me nervous."

You pursed your lips and handed him the familiar heart-shaped paper. The last time he got a hold of something similar to this was during Valentine's Day and he almost lashed out. Good thing, you were able to prevent him from doing so. 

"W-what's the meaning of this?"

You clicked your tongue trying to supress your laughter. Knowing your husband, you kind of expected this reaction from him already. 

"Found that in your daughter's workbook. I was helping her with her assignment and that fell."

"Damn it! Seriously?" Seungcheol dramatically gasped and stared at the piece of paper again. "Sweetheart, you've already read this haven't you?"

"I did."

"And you're not bothered?"

"No, I'm not. Actually, I find it cute," you replied.

"It isn't." Seungcheol almost shouted but tried hard not to make it too loud because he was well aware the twins were already sleeping. "Look here sweet, whoever this kid was, confessed he has a crush on Chaewon and even wrote I LOVE YOU! He wrote I LOVE YOU to our daughter!"

You finally burst into fits of laughter, "What's wrong with that?"

Seungcheol was starting to get annoyed now but it immediately dissipated when you touched his arm and guided him to sit on the couch.

"Calm down Cheollie. It's just a simple note. No need to fret so much about it," you tried to ease him and Seungcheol sighed. He reached for your hand and pressed it as if he's trying to summon his lost composure.

"I mean...that kid wrote those words for our daughter. To our princess. And he's only what? Six years old? Does he even know what it means?"

"Don't insult the feelings of that kid, Cheollie. You yourself even proposed to someone when you were just what? Three?"

Shock passed through Seungcheol's face. He was just going to defend himself when you waved your free hand. "Don't even try to deny it. It was your mom who told me about it."

"Fine. But that's beside the point...last time it was Jungwon. Our little prince received a similar letter with three red roses on Valentine's Day and now it's Chaewon...and an I love you? God! The moment we received the result of your pregnancy test even felt like it just happened yesterday and now, they're receiving these...things. It's too fast. They're growing up too fast."

"Cheollie. It's not as if they're already marrying--"

Seungcheol was quick to cut off what you were supposed to say. "God no sweetheart! They're just six-year olds!"

"Exactly my point," You calmly said and closed the gap between you by hugging him and burying your face on the crook of Seungcheol's neck. "So loosen up, okay?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that... I know that after several years they'll grow up and will meet a lot of people. And then eventually, both of our kids will each meet the person they will love...but right now, I really just want them to enjoy their childhood first...is that too much to ask?" Seungcheol immediately stopped talking when he heard you sniffing. "Are you crying?"

You lifted your head and hurriedly wiped your tears without looking at him. "This is your fault."

"What did I do?" Seungcheol asked teasingly and helped dry your cheeks. "Okay, I'll stop being irrational now so you should stop crying too."

You immediately shook your head, "You're not being irrational. You're just being a good, scratch that, the best father you have always been. You're loving and responsible."

"And?"

"Fine. Handsome too. Very," you both chuckled. "Jungwon and Chaewon are sure lucky to have you as a father."

“And you as their mother," Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

"Seriously though," You suddenly said and peeked at the paper your husband was holding. "The kid is undeniably sweet writing a letter like that."

"Sweetheart..." He groaned and his plump red lips automatically turning into a pout like that of a kid sulking. 

"Sorry," you giggled. "I won't bring it up again."

You both just stayed on the couch for a long time hugging each other. And even with just that, everything felt perfect.

"Cheollie?" You called in a whisper.

"Hmm?"

"I just realized something after reading that kid's letter."

"Uhuh?" Seungcheol responded expectantly.

"That I don't say those words a lot to you," Your voice wavered. "Even if you very much deserved to hear it everyday."

Seungcheol can't help but smile because he is completely aware that you're not the most expressive when it comes to your feelings (which is a complete opposite of him) but he also knew that you have so much love to give and you just have a different way to express it. 

"Even if you don't say it everyday sweetheart, I can always feel your love for me and for the twins. And that, " Seungcheol hugged you tighter, "...is more than enough.

"But still, I feel like you want to hear it."

"I do but--"

"I love you, Cheollie." You said rather abruptly and buried your face on Seungcheol's chest. He could only laugh at your cuteness.

"Are you seriously acting shy now?"

Shame was definitely already creeping on your system so you slapped his chest and whined in a low voice, "Stop teasing me!"

With a contented smile, he whispered too.

"I love you more sweetheart."

—♡—

[jaysng]

post arguement — lee heeseung

pairing: bf!heeseung x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff

synopsis: heeseung wants to get reader’s heart back after the arguement so he decides to read the poetry he has hidden since her for a long time.

• REBLOG if you enjoyed

The room was quiet, filled with the tension that had settled in after the argument. You and Heeseung sat on opposite couches, the distance between you seeming wider than the physical space. You had been giving him the silent treatment since the argument, unable to let go of the hurt his words had caused. 

Heeseung, on the other hand, was drowning in regret. He could barely look at you, knowing that he was the one who had pushed you away. But he couldn’t stand this silence any longer. He wanted—no, needed—to make things right, to show you how deeply he loved you and how sorry he was for everything.

His eyes darted to the plushie you always kept on the couch beside you—a small, soft stuffed animal that you had cherished for years. Heeseung had always teased you about it, calling it your "little buddy," but now, it seemed like the only way he could reach you.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the plushie and cleared his throat awkwardly, feeling like a fool but too desperate to care. Holding it up, he made the plushie "walk" across the couch towards you, its little arms waving in the air as if it had something important to say.

You glanced at the plushie, and despite the lingering tension, you felt a flicker of curiosity. Heeseung was never one to do something like this, and the sheer absurdity of it almost made you smile. Almost.

When he saw you look, Heeseung, still holding the plushie, began to speak, his voice soft and trembling with sincerity. 

“You cannot love her,” he murmured through the plushie, his voice barely above a whisper. “For it is a sin.”

You frowned slightly, puzzled by the words, but something in his tone kept you listening.

“I only smile at their words,” the plushie continued, “knowing that they have not knelt at her altar nor tasted the divinity staining her lips. They have not heard her giggles murmured between every kiss.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat as the words sank in, each one laced with a tenderness and reverence that you hadn’t expected. Heeseung had never been one for poetry, or so you thought, and hearing him speak these words through the plushie was almost surreal.

“So be it then,” the plushie said, its little arms flopping in what could only be described as a dramatic gesture. “I will walk into hell gladly knowing I've held heaven in my hands.”

Your heart clenched at the last line, the sheer vulnerability in his voice cutting through the wall you had built around yourself. You wanted to stay mad, to hold onto the anger that had kept you from breaking down, but his words were too powerful, too filled with the love you had always longed to hear.

Heeseung, still holding the plushie, hesitated before speaking again. He knew this was his chance, the moment where he could either mend the rift between you or let it grow wider.

“If equal affection cannot be,” the plushie said, its voice quieter now, “Let the more loving one be me.”

“oh what am i without you?”

The room fell into silence again, the weight of those words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting the two of you. You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t brush it away. Instead, you let it fall, your heart overwhelmed by the depth of Heeseung’s feelings.

He watched you closely, his heart pounding in his chest as he waited for your reaction. He had laid himself bare, exposed the most tender parts of his soul, all through the plushie that now seemed like his last hope.

You reached out slowly, your fingers brushing against the plushie before gently taking it from his hands. You held it close to your chest, feeling the softness of the fabric against your skin, but it was the warmth of Heeseung’s words that truly enveloped you.

“Why didn’t you let me hear these earlier?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. The question wasn’t accusatory; it was filled with a kind of wonder, a quiet yearning that had been buried deep inside you for so long.

Heeseung’s face softened, and he slowly moved to sit beside you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his presence but still giving you space. His eyes were downcast at first, the weight of his guilt pressing heavily on him.

“I was scared,” he began, his voice low and shaky. “Scared that if I shared this with you, it wouldn’t be enough, or that it would be too much. I’ve never been good with words when it matters most, and I thought... I thought that maybe keeping them to myself was better than risking saying the wrong thing.”

He looked up then, meeting your eyes with a vulnerability you had rarely seen in him. “But I realize now that keeping it from you was the real mistake. You deserved to hear these words, to know how much you mean to me. And I kept them locked away, thinking I was protecting us, protecting myself. But all I did was push you away.”

His hands trembled slightly as he reached out, gently taking one of your hands in his. His touch was tentative, as if he was afraid you might pull away. “Y/N, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking with the weight of his emotions. “I’m sorry for not listening to you, for not being the boyfriend you deserve. I know I hurt you, and that’s something I’ll never forgive myself for. But I promise, I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Heeseung’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes pleading with you to understand the depth of his remorse. “I don’t want to lose you,” he continued, his voice thick with desperation. “I can’t lose you. You’re everything to me, and I don’t want to spend another day without making sure you know that. I’m going to do better—I’ll share everything with you, every thought, every feeling, every word. Because you deserve that. You deserve all of me.”

His words hung in the air, heavy with sincerity and love. You could see the tears welling up in his eyes, the way his shoulders shook slightly as he tried to hold back the emotions threatening to overwhelm him.

And in that moment, you knew he meant every word. The walls you had built around your heart began to crumble, the anger and hurt dissolving under the warmth of his apology. You could see how much he regretted his actions, how deeply he was affected by the thought of losing you.

You squeezed his hand gently, your own tears flowing freely now. “I love you too, Heeseung,” you whispered, your voice trembling but filled with warmth. “And I want us to be okay. I want to hear all the poems you’ve written, all the ones you’ll write.”

Heeseung’s face broke into a relieved, tender smile, his tears finally spilling over as he pulled you into his arms. He held you close, his embrace strong and comforting, as if he never wanted to let go. You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek, and in that moment, you knew that everything would be okay.

Heeseung kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering as he whispered, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’ll never take you for granted again. I promise.” His voice was thick with emotion, each word carrying the weight of his sincerity, his regret, and his overwhelming love for you.

As you held each other, the plushie still nestled between you, the room seemed to fill with a sense of peace and understanding, the tension from earlier fading into the background. The argument was behind you now, a lesson learned, and the bond between you felt stronger, deeper, forged in the fire of your love and forgiveness.

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes meeting his with a new understanding. “We’ll be okay,” you said softly, your heart swelling with love for the man who had just bared his soul to you. “As long as we have each other, we’ll be okay.”

Heeseung nodded, his eyes shining with unshed tears, and leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your lips, sealing the promise between you. In that kiss, you felt the unspoken words, the love that had always been there but was now stronger than ever. And as you leaned into him, your heart felt lighter, filled with the certainty that no matter what came your way, you would face it together.

do not copy or repost my work — @/jaysng

[goldfades]

oh, golden boy, you shined a light on our home; and at your best, you were magic, we were sold; so don't tell them what you told me; don't even tell them that you know me; i would rather burn forever, but you should know that i died slow, running through the halls of your haunted home; merry christmas, please don't call; merry christmas, i'm not yours at all ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.9k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you and paige had been the kind of love story everyone admired from afar: picture-perfect in the daylight, chaotic behind closed doors. it wasn't her fault, not entirely. paige had her own ghosts, shadows you couldn’t chase away. but this Christmas, as the snow falls in connecticut and the ache of her absence presses like a bruise against your ribs, you realize you can't keep bleeding for someone who won’t stop breaking.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SOULCRUSHING ANGST W/ NO HAPPY ENDING!! pazzi mention, paige being a PLAYER and descriptions of anger (directed at reader), manipulation (?), just overall angsty

⟢ ┈ 𝐞𝐯'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 | i've been listening to merry christmas, please don't call so i just HAD to make an angsty paige fic, i hope yall enjoy! (im so sorry for this fic)

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it wraps the world in glitter and glassy snow, fooling you into believing anything could be beautiful if you squint hard enough. The kind of month where people hold hands and drink too-sweet cocoa, and you’re left standing under a streetlamp that flickers like a pulse—waiting for a call you know better than to answer.

You tuck your hands into your coat, biting back the cold. Connecticut is quieter than you remember, or maybe it’s just your corner of the city. Paige isn’t here to fill the space with that too-bright laughter that used to feel like sunshine and now feels like static in your chest.

The coffee shop across the street is closing for the night. You watch the barista flip the sign, your reflection ghosted in the fogged window. It looks like someone else—someone better, someone softer, someone who could’ve saved her.

But you couldn’t save Paige. Not from herself. Not from the carousel of pressure and pain that spins faster than either of you can jump off.

The two of you had been magnetic once. You couldn’t say it was perfect—it never was—but there had been a time when Paige made the air around her shimmer like heat on asphalt. Everyone wanted to be near her, but you were the one she chose. At least, that’s how it felt in the beginning.

The story of you and Paige wasn’t simple. It couldn’t be, not with how bright her world burned, how impossible it was to separate the good from the bad, the joy from the heartbreak. It all started with her charm—effortless and magnetic, the kind that made you believe she could do anything.

You met during her sophomore year at UConn, the same year her name became synonymous with excellence. She’d smile at you during study sessions, her sneakers squeaking against the gym floor as she absentmindedly dribbled a basketball while you worked on assignments. Her laugh was a sound you could pick out of a crowd, bright and airy, like it didn’t belong in a world this heavy.

The early days were golden. Paige had this way of making you feel like the only person in the room, her attention sharp and unwavering. She'd surprise you with late-night drives to nowhere, the car filled with the smell of takeout and the sound of her carefully curated playlists. She'd drape her hoodie over your shoulders when the Connecticut winters bit too hard, her hands brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine.

She wasn’t just a basketball prodigy to you; she was Paige, the girl who could quote Parks and Recreation word for word, who cried during Marley & Me, who kissed you for the first time under a canopy of stars in a parking lot after a particularly grueling practice.

You learned quickly that loving Paige meant loving her ambition, her relentless drive. But it also meant loving her through her shadows—the doubt that crept in after a bad game, the pressure that clung to her like a second skin. At first, you thought you could handle it. You thought your steady presence could be her anchor.

But Paige’s world was intense, overwhelming, and sometimes suffocating. There were moments when she’d retreat into herself, shutting you out completely. Nights when she’d sit in silence for hours, staring at the wall, her thoughts a storm she refused to share.

“I’m fine,” she’d say, her voice clipped, whenever you tried to reach her. “It’s just basketball. It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing, and you knew it. It was the weight of the world on her shoulders, the unspoken expectation to be perfect, to never falter. And sometimes, that weight turned her into someone you didn’t recognize—distant, sharp-edged, unreachable.

There were good days, though. The kind of days that made you believe you could weather anything together. The way she’d look at you like you hung the moon after a big win, her joy infectious and radiant. The soft kisses she’d press to your forehead when she thought you were asleep, the whispered promises that everything would be okay.

But the cracks in the foundation grew wider as time went on. Paige didn’t know how to lean on you—didn’t know how to share the parts of herself that weren’t shiny and triumphant. And you, in turn, didn’t know how to break through the walls she built so carefully around her heart.

The arguments started small: missed dates, unanswered texts, her constant insistence that she “needed space.” But they grew sharper, uglier, as the stress of her career bled into every corner of her life. You tried to be patient, to understand that her world was chaotic in ways yours wasn’t.

“I’m trying,” you told her one night, your voice breaking after yet another fight about her shutting you out. “But I can’t keep doing this if you won’t let me in.”

Her response was cold, distant: “Maybe I don’t need you to fix everything for me.”

It was the beginning of the end.

The good moments became fewer, swallowed whole by the tension that never seemed to fade. Paige became harder to reach, her laughter rarer, her smiles strained. She’d come home late, exhausted and short-tempered, and you’d sit across from her at the kitchen table, wondering when you stopped feeling like her partner and started feeling like a stranger.

And love, real love, isn’t just about the good moments.

The cracks began to show in small ways. The way she’d go silent when you asked how she was really feeling after a rough game. The forced smile she’d wear in public, only to collapse into your arms behind closed doors, her exhaustion radiating off her in waves. Paige didn’t talk about the pressure—not really. She’d shrug it off with a joke or brush it aside with a kiss, but you could feel it in the way she clenched her fists when she thought no one was looking.

And then there was the anger.

It didn’t show up at first, not in ways you could name. Paige was too composed, too practiced at keeping herself in check, her emotions folded neatly into the corners of her well-rehearsed smile. But over time, the cracks in her composure grew sharper, splintering into moments she couldn’t quite hide.

You remember the first time it caught you off guard. It was late November, and the two of you were walking back to her apartment after a grueling game. Paige had played well—at least, that’s what everyone kept telling her. She’d drained three-pointers with a precision that seemed almost effortless, threading passes that left defenders spinning. But it wasn’t enough. It was never enough for Paige.

“I should’ve done more,” she muttered, her voice low but heavy with frustration. You glanced at her, confused.

“Paige, you scored 26 points,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “I think that qualifies as doing more.”

She stopped walking, her breath fogging in the cold air. Her jaw clenched.

“You don’t get it,” she snapped, and the sharpness in her voice cut through you like a knife.

You blinked, taken aback. “Then help me get it,” you said carefully, stepping closer. But she only shook her head, her hands buried deep in her pockets.

“Forget it,” she muttered, and the conversation ended there.

But the tension lingered.

It wasn’t always so direct. Sometimes it was the way she’d sigh too loudly when you asked her a simple question, or the way she’d press her fingers to her temples when you suggested she take a break. Other times, it was silence—the kind that stretched too long and settled too heavy between you, a chasm you didn’t know how to cross.

And yet, there were still moments of sweetness. Paige was never just one thing. She’d show up at your door with takeout after you’d had a rough day, or pull you onto the couch, wrapping you in her arms as though she could shield you from everything. She’d kiss the top of your head and whisper things like, “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” and for a while, you believed her.

But the anger didn’t go away. It grew, festering in the quiet corners of your relationship until it felt like a third presence in the room. It wasn’t directed at you—not always—but it seeped into everything.

You’d watch her pace the living room after a game, her movements restless and sharp, her hands running through her hair. She’d mutter under her breath about missed shots, bad calls, and how the team deserved better. You tried to comfort her, to remind her that she was enough, but your words never seemed to stick.

“Stop,” she’d say, cutting you off mid-sentence. “You don’t have to fix this. Just… let me be.”

You told yourself it wasn’t personal. That she wasn’t mad at you, but at the weight she carried, the expectations that pressed down on her until she couldn’t breathe. And yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were becoming collateral damage.

The fights started small—little disagreements over nothing. Where to eat, what movie to watch, whether she could manage to take one damn day off. But they escalated quickly, her voice rising in frustration, yours trying to keep up.

“I’m trying to help you,” you said one night, your voice cracking under the strain.

“I didn’t ask for your help,” she shot back, her eyes blazing. “You think you can just fix everything? Newsflash: you can’t.”

Her words hit you harder than they should have. Maybe because deep down, you’d started to believe she was right.

The nights after those fights were the hardest. You’d lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, the silence between you louder than any argument. Paige would sit on the edge of the bed, her head in her hands, the weight of her regret pressing her down. She never apologized—not with words, anyway. Her apologies came in the form of a soft kiss on your shoulder, a whispered “goodnight” that barely reached your ears.

But you started to wonder if love was supposed to feel this heavy.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love her. God, you loved her. Even when she was angry, even when she pushed you away, even when the weight of her world started to crush you, too. But love wasn’t enough to keep you from drowning.

The night it all came crashing down, the snowstorm outside was unforgiving, a whiteout swallowing the world whole. You stood in Paige’s apartment, the dim light of her living room casting long, jagged shadows across the walls. The heater rattled and hissed, struggling to keep the space warm, but it couldn’t touch the frost between you.

Paige sat on the edge of the couch, her elbows resting on her knees, her hands gripping her hair so tightly you thought she might pull it out. Her breathing was uneven, each inhale sharp and jagged like broken glass.

“I can’t keep doing this,” she said finally, her voice cracking on the last word.

You flinched at the sound, the weight of her statement hitting you square in the chest. It wasn’t the first time she’d said something like that, but tonight it felt different. Final.

“What does that mean?” you asked, your own voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it.

She looked up at you then, her eyes red-rimmed and glassy, her face a mask of exhaustion. “It means I’m tired,” she said. “Of… of everything. Of trying to be everything for everyone and failing every single time.”

“Paige,” you began, stepping closer, but she held up a hand to stop you.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, and the venom in her voice made you stop in your tracks.

“I’m not one of them,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I’m not asking you to be perfect, Paige. I’ve never asked that of you.”

She laughed bitterly, the sound so hollow it made your stomach churn. “But you expect me to be okay,” she said, her words like knives. “You expect me to keep it together, to let you in, to… to lean on you like that’s supposed to fix anything.”

“Is that such a terrible thing?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “To want you to let me help? To not have to feel like I’m walking on eggshells every second I’m around you?”

Paige stood abruptly, her sudden movement startling you. “You don’t get it,” she said, her voice rising. “You’ll never get it. You don’t know what it’s like to have the whole damn world waiting for you to screw up. To know that no matter what you do, it’s never gonna be enough.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring you to respond.

“You’re right,” you said after a long pause, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t get it. I don’t know what it’s like to be you. But I do know what it’s like to love you, and to feel like I’m not enough for you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, and for a moment, she looked at you like she wanted to say something. But then her expression hardened, her walls slamming back into place.

“Maybe you’re not,” she said, the words so quiet they almost didn’t register. Almost.

You froze, your heart dropping into your stomach. “What?”

Her eyes were cold now, her shoulders tense. “Maybe you’re not enough,” she repeated, louder this time. “Because if you were, I wouldn’t feel like this all the time. I wouldn’t—” She stopped herself, shaking her head as if trying to clear it. “Forget it.”

“No,” you said, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to say something like that and then just walk away.”

Paige turned away from you, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean it,” she muttered, but the damage was already done.

“Yes, you did,” you said, and the finality in your tone made her turn back to face you. “You meant it, Paige. And maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not enough for you. But I’ve been trying. I’ve been here, through everything, while you’ve been pushing me away and blaming me for things I can’t control.”

She didn’t respond, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her neck.

“You want to be alone so badly?” you said, your voice breaking. “Fine. Be alone. I’m done trying to save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paige didn’t move, didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at you. And that silence said more than words ever could.

You grabbed your coat, your movements mechanical as you headed for the door. Your fingers fumbled with the handle, but before you stepped out into the freezing night, you turned back one last time.

“I loved you,” you said, your voice trembling. “I hope you know that.”

And then you left.

The cold hit you like a slap in the face, but it didn’t compare to the hollow ache in your chest. You walked away from her building, your breaths coming out in shaky puffs of air, your eyes stinging with unshed tears.

You didn’t look back. You couldn’t.

But as you disappeared into the snowstorm, you couldn’t shake the image of Paige standing in that living room, alone with her anger and the ghosts she refused to let go of.

It was summer in Connecticut, the kind of evening where the world seemed to hold its breath, suspended in a twilight haze. The sky was streaked with pink and gold, casting a warm, nostalgic glow over the small lake where Paige had driven you after practice. She had her hand on the back of your neck, her thumb tracing lazy circles over your skin as you leaned against her car, watching the water ripple in the breeze.

“This is the spot,” she murmured, her voice low, almost reverent.

“The spot for what?” you asked, turning to face her.

“For when it gets too heavy.”

Paige rarely talked about the weight she carried—her expectations, her relentless drive to be more, to be better. But you could feel it in her sometimes, the way she’d go quiet after games or the way her smile would falter when she thought no one was looking.

You followed her gaze out over the lake. It was still, reflecting the sky like a mirror, and for a moment, the world felt smaller, safer. Paige tilted her head back against the car, her eyes closing as she took a deep breath.

“You ever feel like you’re just… spinning?” she asked softly.

“Like everything’s moving too fast, and you can’t get off?”

She opened one eye, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Yeah, like that.”

You laughed, the sound breaking through the stillness like the first notes of a song. “All the time.”

Paige turned to you then, really turned, her gaze heavy and intense in that way that always made your heart stutter. She reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Her hand lingered, her fingertips brushing against your cheek.

“You make it stop,” she said, so quietly you almost missed it.

“Make what stop?”

“This,” she gestured vaguely, her other hand cutting through the air like she was trying to grab hold of something intangible. “The spinning. The noise.”

Her eyes locked onto yours, and in that moment, you felt the full weight of her, the vulnerability she rarely let anyone see. Paige Bueckers—the golden girl, the superstar—looked at you like you were the only thing holding her together.

And maybe you were.

She leaned in, pressing her forehead to yours. “Sometimes I feel like I’m on this carousel, you know? Like I can’t get off, even when I want to. But when I’m with you…”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “When you’re with me, what?”

“I forget about it,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “I forget about everything else.”

You stayed like that for what felt like forever, the two of you wrapped in a quiet moment that felt too fragile to last. Paige’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer until there was nothing between you but the soft rise and fall of your breaths.

“Promise me something,” she whispered, her lips brushing against your temple.

“Anything.”

“Don’t leave. No matter how bad it gets, don’t leave.”

You pulled back just enough to meet her eyes, your heart breaking at the vulnerability etched across her face. “I won’t,” you said, the words heavy with meaning.

Paige kissed you then, slow and deep, her hands framing your face like you were something sacred. And for a moment, the world did stop spinning.

Later, when the sun had dipped below the horizon and the stars began to flicker into view, you lay on the hood of her car, her arm wrapped tightly around you. She traced constellations in the sky with her finger, whispering their names like secrets only you were meant to hear.

It was moments like this that made leaving unthinkable. Paige could be selfish, distant, and infuriating, but she was also this—the girl who made you feel like the center of her universe, if only for a little while.

And that’s why, even now, with the carousel spinning faster than ever, you knew that if she called, you’d pick up. You’d step back into the whirlwind, the heavy gaze, the endless cycle.

Because Paige had a way of making you believe in the calm between storms, in the stillness of a summer night by a lake that felt like it belonged only to you.

Paige had this way about her—a pull that felt almost gravitational. It wasn’t just her talent, though that was undeniable. It wasn’t even her looks, though you’d be lying if you said her golden hair and sharp blue eyes didn’t make your stomach flip every time she turned that full-force charm your way. It was something deeper, something intangible. Paige made you feel seen, even when you didn’t want to be. Especially when you didn’t want to be.

She’d waltz into a room like she owned it, every movement effortless, every smile calculated but somehow still genuine. Paige Bueckers had the kind of confidence that bordered on arrogance, but with you, it softened. She let you see behind the curtain—the cracks in her armor, the moments when the golden girl wasn’t so golden.

And God, those moments were everything.

You remember one night in particular, when the weight of everything had been too much for her. The team had just lost a game they were expected to win, and Paige had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire bus ride back. You’d waited until everyone else had cleared out of the locker room before approaching her, unsure if she even wanted you there.

But the second she saw you, something in her crumbled.

“I can’t,” she’d whispered, her voice shaking as she sank onto the bench. “I can’t keep doing this.”

You didn’t say anything, just sat down beside her and pulled her into your arms. She clung to you like a lifeline, her tears soaking into your shirt as you ran your fingers through her hair, whispering soft reassurances.

It was moments like that when you realized just how deeply Paige had wormed her way into your heart. She wasn’t just the superstar everyone else saw; she was vulnerable, complicated, and so achingly human. And she trusted you with that side of her—a side no one else got to see.

But it wasn’t just the heavy moments that kept you tied to her. It was the good ones, too—the nights she’d show up at your door unannounced with takeout and a goofy grin, insisting that you needed a break from studying. The way she’d drag you to the park at midnight just to lay on the grass and stargaze, her hand intertwined with yours as she pointed out constellations you’d never heard of.

It was the way she looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that made sense.

Paige had a way of making every moment feel electric. When she kissed you, it wasn’t just a kiss—it was an event. Her hands would cradle your face like you were made of glass, her lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. And when she smiled at you afterward, that lazy, lopsided grin that was so uniquely hers, it felt like the world had been set right again.

You knew it wasn’t healthy. Paige could be selfish, possessive even. She wanted you on her terms, when it was convenient for her, when she needed someone to hold her up. And you let her, because when Paige loved you—even if it was only halfway—it felt like the sun had risen just for you.

You told yourself that you were the one who truly knew her, the one who saw the real Paige beneath the accolades and the golden glow. And maybe that was true. But knowing her didn’t make it hurt any less when she started to pull away.

Because Paige Bueckers had a chokehold on you, and no matter how much you wanted to let go, you knew you never really could. Even now, with everything that had happened, all it would take was one call, one look, and you’d be hers again, no questions asked.

That was the thing about Paige—she was a storm, unpredictable and destructive, but you couldn’t help but stand in the rain, hoping for just a little more sunlight.

The air was thick with warmth and laughter, the kind of joy that buzzed around a room full of people who felt like family. Paige had insisted you come to the team hangout, her eyes softening in that way that always made it impossible to say no.

"It'll be fun," she had promised, lacing her fingers through yours. "And Azzi will be there, so you won't feel out of place."

You swallowed back the irony now, standing on the fringes of the crowded living room as Paige and Azzi shared a quiet laugh across the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen them together, their bond growing closer in ways that should’ve been comforting. It should have made you feel secure—Paige having someone who understood her world, who could shoulder the weight of the same pressures.

But it didn’t.

It hurt.

Azzi’s laugh was the same pitch as Paige’s, soft and genuine. The way Paige leaned in when she spoke, her eyes crinkling at the corners, was painfully familiar. You’d seen that look a thousand times before—directed at you. Once.

You stayed pressed against the wall, your drink warming in your hand as you watched them. It wasn’t just the way they talked, like no one else was in the room, or the casual touch of Paige’s hand against Azzi’s arm. It was the comfort, the ease. The way Paige smiled at her, unguarded and free.

You’d been here before. In the passenger seat of her car during late-night drives. On her couch, curled up with her hoodie draped around your shoulders. Sharing secrets that felt too heavy to speak aloud. It was supposed to be your safe space—yours and Paige’s.

Now, watching her light up for someone else, you couldn’t help but feel like a ghost. A witness to something that wasn’t meant for you anymore.

Azzi said something that made Paige throw her head back in laughter, her hand brushing Azzi’s knee as she doubled over. The sound echoed in your chest like a bullet ricocheting off hollow walls.

And you died slow.

The walls of this house weren’t hers, but they may as well have been. Paige had a way of haunting every space she occupied, leaving pieces of herself in every laugh, every look, every touch. But tonight, it felt like you weren’t welcome in the hallways of her haunted home. You were an intruder in a space you used to know intimately.

The toughest part wasn’t the way she drifted to Azzi like a planet pulled into a stronger orbit. It was the fact that you both knew exactly why it was happening. Paige wasn’t trying to hurt you, not intentionally. She was finding something she needed—something you couldn’t give her anymore.

And it crushed you, knowing she wasn’t the person everyone else thought she was. She wasn’t just the golden girl with the easy smile and the killer jump shot. You knew the sharp edges, the flaws she tried to bury under layers of charm. The way she’d lash out when she was scared, the selfishness that reared its head when she felt cornered.

You knew her. Really knew her. And you still stayed.

Stayed when she’d shut you out after a bad game, refusing to talk for days. Stayed when her ambition left no room for you, when she forgot birthdays and date nights and promises. Stayed because Paige wasn’t just the bad parts.

She was also the Paige who kissed your knuckles when you cried, who brought you flowers "just because." The Paige who whispered “I love you” like it was a secret meant only for you.

But now, watching her laugh with Azzi, you wondered if you’d stayed too long. If you’d held onto someone who wasn’t yours anymore.

Paige glanced over, catching your eye for a brief moment. She smiled—polite, distant. And then she turned back to Azzi, her attention snapping back like a rubber band.

It hit you then, the final blow.

Paige’s world had shifted, and you weren’t the center of it anymore. You were the afterthought. A memory of a time when she was still figuring out how to carry the weight of her life.

And for the first time, you let yourself wonder if maybe Paige wasn’t yours at all. Maybe she never really had been.

There’s a cruel intimacy to grief. The way it finds you in the smallest moments, in the cracks of your routine, in the way the wind moves through the trees or how a song starts playing in a grocery store. Paige is everywhere in Connecticut. Or maybe she’s everywhere in you.

You tried to move on. God, you really did.

At first, it was sheer force of will. You buried yourself in work, in plans with friends who didn’t know Paige beyond the headlines. You deleted her photos off your phone, shoved her sweatshirt to the back of your closet where the scent of her—a mix of fresh linen and something indefinable—couldn’t haunt you.

But grief has a way of sneaking back in. It wasn’t the big things that unraveled you; it was the little ones. The way every basketball game you flipped past felt like her shadow. The sound of laughter at a bar that hit the same pitch as hers, making your chest tighten with phantom warmth.

And God help you, it was the moments when you wanted to hate her but couldn’t. Not when you’d catch yourself remembering how she used to light up at the simplest things—pancakes on a lazy morning, a dumb joke that wasn’t funny but made her laugh so hard she’d double over.

Then there were the rumors. Whispers and Instagram stories. Paige and Azzi—courtside banter turned into something more. The first time you saw it, you scoffed, dismissing it as gossip. Paige always had a way of pulling people into her orbit, Azzi included.

But then came the photos. Nothing overt, nothing scandalous. Just Paige leaning too close during post-game interviews. Azzi’s hand on her shoulder, casual but deliberate. They weren’t trying to hide it, but they weren’t broadcasting it either.

The night you saw it, you stared at your phone for too long, trying to decipher the ache in your chest. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly. You hadn’t expected Paige to wait for you, not when she had the kind of life that moved at the speed of light. But it was the simplicity of it that hurt the most. The way Paige could give Azzi the pieces of herself you’d fought so hard to hold onto.

You spent the rest of that night curled up on your bed, scrolling through her photos until the light from your phone burned your eyes. By the time you fell asleep, the only thing you felt was exhaustion—the kind that settled in your bones and didn’t leave.

And now, it’s Christmas Eve.

You’re back in Connecticut, surrounded by family and the kind of warmth that’s supposed to feel comforting. But it doesn’t. Not entirely. The house is decked out in garlands and twinkling lights, your mom’s favorite holiday playlist drifting faintly from the kitchen. Your siblings are laughing over some board game you’ve never liked, and you’re standing by the window, watching the snow fall.

It’s quiet in your corner of the house. Too quiet.

The phone in your pocket buzzes. Once. Then again.

You don’t have to look to know who it is.

Paige’s number is burned into your memory, as familiar as your own name. Your chest tightens as you pull the phone out, the screen glowing with her name. It’s been a year since you last spoke. A year of awkward smiles at mutual friends’ events and polite nods when your paths crossed. A year of trying to forget the sound of her voice, the way she’d say your name like it was something precious.

You should answer. Or maybe you shouldn’t.

The buzzing stops, and you think it’s over. But then it starts again, more insistent this time. She doesn’t leave voicemails anymore. Just lets the silence hang in the air between calls.

Your hand hovers over the screen, your breath hitching as the familiar ache rises in your chest. You close your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the cold seeping through the windowpane, on the distant sound of your family laughing.

When the buzzing stops again, you shove the phone back into your pocket.

Merry Christmas, Paige. But I can’t do this. Not tonight.

You turn away from the window, your heart heavy with the weight of all the things you’ll never say. The snow keeps falling, covering the world in glitter and glassy silence. Paige is still everywhere, even when she isn’t. And you?

You’re still trying to move on. Still waiting for the day when the sound of her name doesn’t feel like a knife twisting in your chest.

The night stretches on, slow and agonizing, the kind of quiet that sinks into your skin and keeps you awake for all the wrong reasons. You sit by the fireplace long after your family has gone to bed, the flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. Your phone sits heavy on the armrest, as if its weight could pull you under.

You wonder what she wanted to say.

Paige wasn’t one for grand gestures, not outside the court. She wasn’t the type to pour her heart out over the phone, but you knew her well enough to read between the lines, to decipher the emotions she couldn’t put into words. And that was the worst part—knowing that whatever it was she wanted to say, it would hurt.

She’d moved on. You were sure of it. Azzi filled the space you used to occupy, and that should’ve been enough to keep Paige away. But here she was, her name lighting up your phone like some ghost that refused to rest.

You couldn’t stop yourself from picturing her—where she was, what she looked like tonight. Was she staring out her own window, watching the snow fall, her lips pressed into that familiar line of determination? Or was she somewhere loud and bright, surrounded by the buzz of life, calling you from the edges of a party she didn’t really want to be at?

The questions gnawed at you, each one another layer of hurt you couldn’t shake.

You thought about the last Christmas you’d spent together, curled up on the couch in her apartment, the world outside forgotten for a few stolen hours. Paige had draped an arm over your shoulders, her face buried in your neck as she mumbled something about how she wished every day could feel like that—quiet, safe, yours.

But nothing stayed quiet with Paige. She lived in a whirlwind, and you’d gotten caught in the eye of the storm. You let her pull you under because you thought, for a moment, that you could save her.

Instead, she left you drowning.

The fire crackles, breaking the silence, and you blink back the tears threatening to spill.

You reach for your phone, your thumb hovering over her name. It would be so easy to call her back, to let her voice fill the space between you. She’d say something half-apologetic, half-charming, and you’d forgive her like you always did, because how could you not?

But you don’t.

Instead, you turn the phone off and set it face-down on the table. The room feels emptier without its glow, but you welcome the darkness.

There’s something profoundly cruel about December. The way it promises joy wrapped in ribbons and snowflakes but leaves you colder than before. It’s a month of ghosts, of memories that slip through your fingers like frost.

And Paige? She’s the cruellest ghost of all.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[misotsukiiyeooo]

Too Drunk

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x Drunk f! reader

A/N: Hey babes! I haven't been online in like 2 months? I've been so busy with school and exams... I will post at least once a week or every other week. ( Plus I think I'm going to change up my writing style for now)

Genre: Fluff(smut?)

Word count: 4.8k

Synopsis: Wonwoo takes you home after a long evening of partying and you can't help but let your inner thoughts come out.

Wonwoo drives you home, stealing glances at you whenever he can. "Oh my—Wonu! This is my song!" you exclaim, grabbing your phone like a microphone and practically screaming into it.

He sighs, shaking his head as he watches you make a fool of yourself. You sing your heart out, barely pronouncing most of the words correctly. "Doll… you’re a bit too loud," Wonwoo tries to say, attempting to quiet you, but he fails miserably since you can’t even hear him over your voice.

Sighing in defeat, he continues to drive.

Finally, you make it home. Wonwoo parks the car, turns off the engine, and glances at you. "Are you done singing?" he playfully jokes.

You nod, feeling a bit tired now. Wonwoo exits the car, walks to your side, and opens the door. Immediately, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck for support.

"I missed you, Wonu~," you say, booping his nose and clinging to him as if he might leave.

"I never left, Doll," Wonwoo chuckles, and you respond with an 'oh' expression.

He carries you up the front steps and unlocks the front door. As he places you on the couch, you instantly complain about feeling too hot. "Why is it so hot? Help me, Wonu, I'm dying~," you cry out, noticing Wonwoo approaching you with a glass of water.

He guides the glass to your lips, waiting for you to drink, but you look at him expectantly. Considering your drunken state, he sighs and helps you take a sip while maintaining eye contact.

"Wonu, it’s still so hot…,” you murmur, tugging at your shirt's hem. "Can you take off my clothes…?". You look at him with flirtatious eyes. He sighs and sits back next to you on the couch, "Fine, I'll help you take off your sweater only." He slides the sleeves off completely taking it off to hang it on the coat rack.

"You're no fun…" You speak quietly and unclearly, pouting. Wonwoo walks back to you chuckling softly, "Is there anything else you need?" he inquires, his voice soft and caring.

With a teasing smile, you reply, "Yes, I need my handsome and sexy husband to take off my clothes and kiss me." You let your fingers glide slowly down his chest, feeling the warmth of his clothed skin beneath your touch. But just as you reach the bottom of his shirt, he catches your hand gently, stopping you from going any further.

"Doll, we can't do that now. You're way too drunk and you probably don't know what you're even saying." Wonwoo speaks softly, not wanting to hurt your feelings. "I do know what I'm saying…I want you." You drunkenly slur.

Wonwoo shakes his head, smiling softly. "I want you as well, but you're still drunk and I don't want to take advantage of you while you're in this state." He remains calm as you whine, spreading your legs. "I'd let you take advantage of me anytime." You bite your lip.

He gently closes your legs, a tender gesture. "Doll, just because you say that doesn't mean I'm comfortable taking things further with you, okay? Let's get you to bed, hm?" His eyes search yours, filled with a mix of warmth and uncertainty as he waits for your response.

You turn your gaze away, crossing your arms defensively. "Fine! I guess you don't love me then," you mutter, frustration in your voice. He stares at you in disbelief, his expression showing confusion. Reaching out, he cups your chin, tilting your face up so he can look directly into your eyes.

"Just because I'm not taking advantage of you doesn't mean I don’t love you. If I were only with you for sex, I would have acted on that instead of focusing on taking care of you right now. I love you too much to do that, okay?" His voice is soft but firm, each word laced with genuine emotion.

You look into his eyes with a pout, "Fine…but I'm not happy with you." Wonwoo smiles, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your forehead. "I know, Doll. But I want to take care of you even if that means I make you upset or not."

He lets go and stands up, reaching out his hand for you to take. “Can we finally get you to bed?” he asks, waiting for your response. You take his hand and nod. He guides you to the bedroom, and you lay down on the bed.

"I would help you wash up, but I'm not sure what you'll do… So let's get this makeup off instead." Wonwoo goes to the bathroom and returns with some makeup remover and cotton pads. He gently removes your makeup while you stay completely still in bed.

“All done,” he says, tossing the used cotton pads into the small trash bin in the corner of the dresser before joining you in bed. Wonwoo wraps his arms around you, facing you.

“I’m sorry…” you mumble, your voice barely audible. Wonwoo offers you a reassuring smile and responds, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. Just remind me never to let you drink so much again.” You both share a chuckle before sinking into a deep sleep. He kisses your forehead before closing his eyes and falling asleep as well.

Reqs are open!!

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @black-swan-blog27

[swmzq]

𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊, 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐄!

pairing:taylor swift X fem!singer!reader

authors note:Based on good luck, babe! By chappell roan cause I’ve been absolutely obsessed with her lately! A little bit of Austin butler x reader

warnings:smut, mdni, fingering, rushed lol, reader getting jealous of Travis and taylor (no hate to Travis I love him)

dividers: @tattooedeverything

masterlist

I sighed tossing my phone to the other side of the bed. My gaze fixed on the ceiling, it’s clear that keeping things hidden with Taylor was probably for the best, but it wasn’t what I wanted. But how exactly do I label it now?

Friends with benefits? Just casually messing around? Fuck buddies?

I honestly couldn’t define it myself; it’s complicated, because I’m certain friends don’t sneak out of parties or fancy dinners to pleasure each other.

Taylor always said that we’re nothing but two really close friends in Interviews even though she knows the truth. It only made me feel like the fool here, thinking that it’d ever work between us.

My train of thoughts got abruptly interrupted by a soft knock on the door, prompting me to groan and get up from my cozy spot on the bed.

I sigh walking over to the door swinging the door open revealing Taylor standing there with a bright smile on her face

“Hello, Taylor. What brings you here?”

Taylor groans tilting her head back. “Long rehearsals for the upcoming tour, and I realized I’d be bored if I just came home to the cats even though i love them more than anything. Then i figured that I’d come over cause my dearest friend is sick and would probably like some tea and chai sugar cookies. So here i am!”

Gosh I fucking hated it every time she called me her friend, I love her as my friend but she knows deep inside as much as I do that we’re more than just friends. Friends don’t kiss each other or touch each other when nobody’s watching.

I quickly masked my thoughts with a bright grin. “God, what would I ever do without my best friend and her amazing chai sugar cookies,” I exclaimed dramatically.

Taylor playfully roll her eyes in response. "But seriously, are you feeling better today?" She asks, concern evident in her voice.

I give her a reassuring smile. "Yeah, I promise I'm feeling much better, especially with you here," I reply warmly.

I welcome Taylor inside, the warmth of her presence filling the room and easing the lingering discomfort of my illness. With a soft smile I gesture for her to make herself at home.

After some time I find myself sitting on the counter, idly swinging my legs as Taylor stands nearby, leaning against the opposite counter. The comfortable silence between us speaks volumes.

As our eyes meet, a silent understanding passes between us, unspoken words dancing in the air. In that moment, it feels like we share a secret language.

I feel a rush of heat as my gaze drops down to Taylor's soft, inviting lips, my heart quickening at the sudden surge of desire that courses through me. In that fleeting moment, the air between us crackles with a newfound tension, a palpable awareness of the unspoken desires that linger just beneath the surface.

As Taylor pushes herself off the counter, a sense of anticipation builds within me, my heart beating faster as she makes her way over to where I'm seated. The air seems charged with an unspoken energy, a magnetic pull drawing us closer together.

I feel a shiver run down my spine as Taylor's hand gently rests on my thigh, the closeness between us electrifying. Our noses almost touching, I can feel the warmth of her breath against my skin, her words sending a rush of emotions through me.

“I've missed you, more than I should” she whisper meeting my gaze with a mix of longing and affection.

“Taylor,” I whisper, the name falling from my lips like a reverent prayer, the urge to bridge the remaining distance between us almost overwhelming. Leaning my head forward, I inch closer, the magnetic pull between us drawing us into a moment fraught with unspoken desires and untapped longing.

I feel a surge of electricity shoot through me as Taylor's hand delicately tucks a strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek, gently urging me closer.

As the gap between us closes, a surge of desire courses through me, and I press my lips against Taylor's soft ones in a tender yet passionate kiss. The world falls away, leaving only the sensation of her warmth against my skin and the intoxicating thrill of our forbidden embrace.

I let out a moan into the kiss my body responding to Taylor's touch as her hand grips my ass, sending a jolt of pleasure through me. The intensity of the moment heightens, the boundaries between us blurring as desire takes hold.

My breath hitches as Taylor pulls away, her fingers deftly unbuttoning my silky pajama shirt. “So pretty,” she whispers, her voice filled with admiration as she slides the shirt off my shoulders, revealing my bare breasts to her hungry gaze.

I gasp in pleasure as Taylor's lips close around one of my nipples, her tongue swirling deliciously around it, sending waves of ecstasy coursing through me. The sensation of her warm mouth on my sensitive flesh heightens my arousal, and I arch my back, offering myself to her touch. The intimate connection between us deepens as she lavishes attention on my breasts, each touch and kiss stoking the flames of desire within me.

Taylor's kisses trail down my stomach, each touch sending a shiver of anticipation through me as she stops right at the edge of my silky pajama shorts. The air is heavy with desire, the tension between us palpable as we teeter on the brink of a newfound intimacy.

“You want this, baby?” Taylor looks up at me, her gaze filled with a playful yet seductive glint, teasingly playing with the band of my silk pajama shorts.

I nod eagerly, my breath coming in short gasps as I meet Taylor's gaze with a mix of desire and longing. The question hangs in the air between us, charged with unspoken anticipation and need. With a silent plea in my eyes, I offer myself to her, my body aching for her touch as she plays with the band of my pajama shorts, each moment drawing us closer to the edge of forbidden pleasure.

I feel a rush of heat as Taylor slowly slides off my pajama shorts, revealing my light pink underwear. “So pretty,” she whispers, her voice filled with admiration and desire as she gazes at me.

I gasp as Taylor slowly pulls off my light pink panties, her touch sending a jolt of pleasure through me. With a gentle yet firm grip, she pulls my thighs further apart, increasing the intensity of our intimate moment. The air crackles with anticipation as we both succumb to the raw desire between us.

Taylor kisses sloppily down my stomach, each touch sending a wave of pleasure through me. The sensation of her lips on my skin ignites a fire within me, heightening the intimacy of the moment as we both surrender to the raw passion between us.

I moan out in a mix of pleasure and desire, unable to contain the raw intensity of the moment. “I need you” I breathe out, my voice laced with need and longing as the passion between us reaches a fever pitch.

Taylor’s kisses went down to my abdomen and closer to my heat I gasp in shock and pleasure as her tongue swirls around my clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through me. The exquisite sensation of her touch leaves me trembling with desire, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of the moment.

My hand grip onto the counter, crying out Taylor's name as she inserts a finger, the sensation sending me over the edge as pleasure washes over me in waves. Lost in the throes of ecstasy, I surrender to the intense intimacy between us, the connection deepening with each electrifying touch.

I let out a breathless moan as Taylor teases, her words sending a jolt of pleasure through me. “Yeah, feels good baby?” she teases, adding another finger and intensifying the sensation, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. The raw desire between us fuels the intensity of the moment, drawing us deeper into the throes of passion.

“You like that ?” Taylor's voice is husky with desire, her words a seductive whisper that sends a shiver of pleasure down my spine. “I want to make you feel so good,” she murmurs, her fingers working their magic as she drives me to the brink of ecstasy.

Her fingers slipped in and out of me so fast I was scared she was gonna break her fingers.

Taylor locks eyes with me, a look of intense desire and passion reflected in her gaze. “Let go, baby,” she whispers, her voice laced with need. “I want to feel you come apart in my arms.” Her fingers continue their relentless rhythm, pushing me closer and closer to the edge of pleasure.

The familiar knot in my stomach tightens, a wave of pleasure building within me as I curl my toes, the sensations overwhelming my senses. Every touch, every movement from Taylor sends me spiraling closer to the edge, my body teetering on the brink of release. The tension in the room is palpable, the air heavy with desire as I surrender to the impending waves of ecstasy.

“I can feel you getting closer, baby,” Taylor's voice is a low, sultry whisper, her gaze locked with mine as she drives me towards the peak of pleasure. “Just let go and come for me,” she urges, her fingers working their magic to push me over the edge into a blissful release.

With a gasp of pleasure, I cry out, “oh fuck yes,” the words escaping in a breathless whisper as the intense waves of ecstasy crash over me, leaving me trembling in the aftermath of my release. Taylor's touch lingers, prolonging the pleasure as I ride the waves of my climax, lost in the raw intensity of our shared desire.

Taylor leans in and gives me a gentle peck on the lips, her touch soft and tender, a silent reassurance of the intimacy we shared. The gesture speaks volumes, conveying a sense of closeness and affection that lingers in the air between us. The moment is filled with a quiet understanding and a bond that transcends words, deepening the connection between Taylor and me.

“You are amazing,” Taylor says, her voice filled with a mix of tenderness and desire.

I smile, my heart still pounding with the intensity of our encounter. “You always know how to drive me wild,” I reply, my voice filled with gratitude and affection.

Taylor's gaze meets mine, a spark of connection passing between us. “I just want to make you feel good,” she whispers, her eyes full of warmth and sincerity.

My hand reached out, intertwining our fingers. “You always do,” I say softly, feeling a sense of contentment wash over me.

I hum along to the song playing in the background, the upbeat rhythm filling the bathroom as I apply the finishing touch of lip gloss. Taylor stands beside me, swaying her hips slightly to the beat as she applies mascara, a grin playing on her lips.

"So remind me again, what is this club we're going to?" I raise my eyebrows at Taylor, curious about our destination.

She shrugs, her grin widening. "All I know is that it's in Kansas City and has good drinks."

I chuckle and shake my head. "As long as I come out alive," I tease, the anticipation of the night ahead filling me with excitement.

We decide to take some pictures together in the hotel room, striking poses and capturing moments of laughter and camaraderie. Taylor and I playfully pose for the camera, our smiles genuine and our bond evident in each shot. We choose the best photos to post on our Instagram, sharing the memories of our night out in Kansas City with our friends.

yourusername

liked by taylorswift,blakelively and 973 816 others

yourusername do you guys feel …ready for it?

Taylorswift oh yes I do in fact feel ready for tonight ➥yourusername of course you do😉

swiftie4ever NO CAUSE I DONT CARE ANYMORE IM CLOWNING SO HARD NOW

User818181 excuse me miss Y/N Y/L/N what do you mean with …ready for it?

y/nlvrrrr okay so WHAT IF y/n and Taylor will have a collab on rep tv?

view other comments

As we step into the party, the energy is palpable, the room buzzing with excitement and chatter. The space is packed with celebrities, their presence adding an air of glamour and sophistication to the event. Taylor and I exchange glances, a mix of awe and thrill reflected in our eyes as we take in the scene before us.

I take a deep breath, feeling a surge of anticipation as I clutch onto Taylor's hand, drawing comfort and strength from her presence. Together, we step inside the party, the sounds of laughter and music enveloping us as we navigate through the crowd of celebrities. With Taylor by my side, I feel a sense of confidence and excitement, ready to immerse myself in the night's festivities.

Taylor drags me over to the bar and orders our drinks, the vibrant atmosphere of the party surrounds us. The pulsating music and lively conversations create an electric energy that fills the air.

“Hey, Taylor, I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick!” I shout over the loud music, the excitement of the night fueling my movements as I weave through the crowd towards the restroom. As I make my way through the bustling party, I catch glimpses of familiar faces and the glimmer of flashing cameras, adding to the allure of the glamorous event.

I step into the bathroom, the sounds of the party muffled by the closed door, I take a moment to touch up my makeup. I carefully apply my lip liner, ensuring my lips look just right, before adding a touch of lip gloss for a hint of shine. I glance at myself in the mirror, adjusting my hair and smoothing out my dress, taking a deep breath to steady myself before heading back out into the vibrant chaos of the party.

My mind couldn’t help but wander to what me and taylor was, cause one second we’re fucking each other but after that we act like lovers. But out in public we were only best friends, every time we went out to parties it always ended up with Taylor kissing her hundred boys in bars and brings them home. She always said that it was just the way she was, another stupid excuse.

It’s not fair, I’m the one who should be kissing her. I should be the one who’s on the news with her.

I sighed getting out of the bathroom walking over to were taylor sat. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes at the man sitting beside her, the one and only Travis kelce.

The way his hand rested on her knee made me wanna throw up. Of course the famous American-footballer decided to hit on her especially after all these news about him attending one of her shows with a bracelet with his number on. The thought of it made me wanna stab myself in my eyes.

Taylor locked eyes with me in the crowd waving me over with a smile plastered on her face. I pinched myself making my way over to them with a fake smile.

“Y/N! There you are,” Taylor exclaims. “This is Travis! Travis, this is Y/N, my dearest friend,” she introduces us with a warm smile.

I take a deep breath and compose myself, extending my hand to shake Travis's.

“Hi Travis, lovely to meet you,” I say with a bright smile, my tone warm and friendly despite the underlying tension I feel. Deep down, a pang of jealousy flickers within me as I notice Travis's hand resting on Taylor's knee, but I push the feeling aside, focusing on maintaining a pleasant demeanor in this social setting.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N,” Travis replies with a slight nod, his gaze meeting mine with a polite smile. Despite the subtle tension in the air, his response is cordial and respectful, easing the atmosphere slightly as we exchange pleasantries in the midst of the bustling party.

“Travis in fact actually came to one of my shows here, i can’t believe i never got the bracelet!” Taylor chimes in happily, I try my hardest not to roll my eyes.

“Oh yeah! I think I heard something about it!” I reply but I heard it everywhere I went. The crush Travis had on taylor was talked about over the whole internet, it made me wanna shoot myself over and over again.

”You and Y/N has been friends for a while now right?” Travis asks out of curiosity looking at us sipping from his drink.

“Oh um, we met during the music awards in 2018 i think” I reply with a nostalgic smile, the memories of the American Music Awards 2018 flooding back vividly. Taylor in her stunning mirror ball dress and matching heels, radiating confidence and grace, while I stood beside her in my light pink dress, feeling like a part of something magical.

Travis clears his throat, his gaze fixed on Taylor as he speaks. “So i thought that I’ll come next show to and maybe this time I can get backstage.“ he says, a hint of flirtation in his voice as he winks at Taylor, causing a faint blush to color her cheeks. I bite down on my tongue, stopping myself from saying something stupid.

With a forced smile on my face, I rise from my seat, a sense of unease settling in the pit of my stomach. “Well, I'll leave you two,” I say, my tone polite but tinged with a hint of underlying tension.

As I push past the crowded bodies with a drink in hand, the room swirling with music and laughter, I accidentally bump into someone, the cold liquid from my drink splashing onto my body.

“Watch where you're fucking going,” I snap, annoyed at the sudden collision, before looking up to see the one and only Austin Butler. “Oh, I'm so sorry, here, um, let me help you,” he immediately apologizes, his tone sincere and apologetic.

“No, no, I'm sorry for being rude,” I quickly respond, feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over me at my initial outburst. I appreciate his understanding and kindness in the situation, grateful for his quick response to diffuse the tension between us.

He chuckles and asks, “Rough day?” I offer a soft smile and nod in response, a hint of weariness in my eyes. “If only you knew,” I reply.

"Well, I gotta go to the restroom to clean this off," I say, looking down at my half-soaked dress, feeling a mix of frustration and discomfort.

“Want me to come with you?” Austin asks, his offer of assistance genuine and kind. I pause for a moment, considering his offer before nodding in gratitude. “Yes, that would be great, thank you,” I reply, appreciating his thoughtfulness in the midst of the chaotic party scene.

As I lock the door behind us, the sounds of the party muffled by the closed door, Austin approaches me with tissues in hand. “Here, let me help you,” he offers, his voice calm and reassuring. I feel a sense of gratitude for his kindness and assistance, allowing myself to relax for a moment in his presence as he helps me clean up the spilled drink from my dress.

“Can't wait for your upcoming album, your latest one was amazing. My favorite is probably 'Casual',” Austin says, his eyes lighting up with genuine enthusiasm as he starts to hum the lyrics to the song, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. His appreciation for my music brings a sense of joy and validation, and I can't help but laugh quietly at his lighthearted gesture, grateful for the unexpected moment of connection over our shared love of music.

“Are you planning to start touring again?” Austin asks, his expression curious and interested as he inquires about my future plans in the music industry. His question sparks a flicker of anticipation within me, reminding me of the excitement and energy that comes with performing live for my fans.

“Yeah, I'm planning to announce it sometime after the whole album has been released. There's just this one song left that I need to finish,” I explain, a sense of anticipation and determination evident in my voice.

“Well, what about you? Do you have any upcoming movies? 'Dune' was amazing,” I say, shifting the conversation towards Austin and his impressive work in the film industry.

Austin shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. “Can't tell you my secrets, can I?” he teases, winking mischievously as he hints at upcoming projects that he's keeping under wraps.

I playfully roll my eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips as I tilt my head, savoring the comfortable silence that settles between us.

“Did you come here alone tonight?” Austin asked, his tone casual yet curious as he sought to learn more about my presence at the event.

I shake my head, a hint of disappointment flickering in my eyes. “No, I came with Taylor, like in Taylor Swift, but she's been occupied with this Travis guy,” I explain, a touch of wistfulness coloring my tone.

“You guys seem pretty close, right?” Austin inquired, his tone gentle and observant as he picked up on the dynamics between Taylor and me. But oh boy if he only knew, I thought to myself.

“Yeah, we really are,” I respond with a fond smile, reflecting on the strong connection and camaraderie that Taylor and I share.

Austin's voice is tinged with a hint of curiosity as he asks, “Are you planning on heading home alone?” His question hangs in the air, but not in a creepy way.

I grin and reply, “Well, I don't know. Taylor's probably taken off with that Travis guy, and my hotel is just a fifteen-minute drive away.” The uncertainty of the night's plans adds a sense of spontaneity and adventure to the situation, leaving room for unexpected twists and turns as the evening unfolds.

“Well, my hotel is just five minutes away, and I could honestly use some company,” Austin says, his tone warm and inviting.

Well the next morning I found myself waking up in Austin's bed, dressed only in a pair of panties. The faint morning light filtering through the curtains painted a soft glow over the room, casting a dream-like quality over the scene as I processed the implications of our intimate encounter.

As the weeks passed by, Austin and I maintained a close friendship, the memory of that unexpected night adding a layer of complexity and unspoken understanding to our dynamic.

I was currently sitting in the sofa with Taylor watching some tv show on a random channel.

I shift on the sofa, feeling Taylor's curious gaze on me as we watch a random movie together. Suddenly, she turns to me, her eyes filled with playful curiosity. “So, how's it going with Austin? He's the one you left with at the party, right?” Taylor's question hangs in the air, laced with a hint of mischief and genuine interest in my connection with Austin after that memorable night.

I shrug in response to Taylor's question, a casual smile playing on my lips. “Just friends,” I reply, keeping my tone light and nonchalant.

“What about you and Travis?” I counter, turning the question back to her with a teasing glint in my eyes.

Taylor blushed slightly “I really like him, he’s the sweetest.”

I offer Taylor a supportive smile, masking the pang of jealousy that tugs at my heart. "I'm glad to hear that. Travis does seem like a great guy," I reply, my words genuine despite the internal turmoil. Keeping up the facade of happiness for my friend's sake, I push aside my own feelings to focus on being there for Taylor in that moment.

As Taylor continues to gush about Travis, I listen attentively, nodding along and offering encouraging words as she shares her feelings knowing deep inside that I just wanted to stab myself over and over again.

As months passed by and my album was released, with a tour on the horizon, Taylor and Travis grew closer each day. Despite their budding relationship, the undeniable chemistry between Taylor and me continued to simmer beneath the surface, leading to moments of passion and intimacy shared in secret. The tangled web of emotions and desires added a layer of complexity to our friendship, creating a delicate balance between loyalty, love, and hidden desires.

Taylor and I stood in the bathroom of the vmas, touching up our makeup, the buzz of excitement and anticipation filled the air. The soft glow of the vanity lights illuminated our faces as we exchanged small talk, the hum of chatter and music from the event drifting in from outside. The camaraderie between us was palpable, a silent understanding woven into the shared moments of preparation before the glitz and glamour of the evening.

I take a deep breath, gathering my courage before turning to Taylor, the weight of my words heavy in the air between us. “Taylor, I think I'm gonna call it off. It feels... stupid, hiding what we have when you have Travis,” I confess, the honesty in my voice tinged with a mix of relief and apprehension. The realization of the need for honesty and authenticity in our relationships hangs between us, setting the stage for a moment of truth and vulnerability.

Taylor's voice carries a mix of confusion and concern as she looks at me, searching for answers in my eyes. “C'mon, Y/N, what's going on?” she prompts, her words pushing me to open up and share the thoughts and emotions that have been weighing on my mind.

I meet Taylor's gaze, my expression earnest and vulnerable as I lay bare my innermost thoughts. “I just want to love someone who can be seen with me and doesn't give a shit about their reputation,” I confess, the words carrying a mix of longing and determination.

Before either of us could respond, a voice calling our names interrupts our conversation, signaling the imminent start of the award show. We exchange a quick glance, a silent understanding passing between us as we set aside our personal revelations for the time being, focusing on the event at hand. With a shared nod, we gather our composure and make our way back to the main hall, ready to face the glitz and glamour of the evening ahead.

As the award show unfolded and the night came to a close, Taylor and I parted ways, our paths diverging in the whirlwind of the entertainment industry. The bittersweet realization that our time together had come to an end lingered in my heart, a mix of nostalgia and acceptance coloring my thoughts as I reflected on the moments we shared. Despite the uncertainty of the future, the memories of our friendship and the bond we once had remained etched in my mind, it was time to let go.

tags 🏷️:@cupidsvzq

[11cupids-tarot11]

A Letter From Your Future Spouse

➽───────────────❥

1 -> 4

Cupid's Services Cupid's Master List Socials

Tips appreciated!

C@sh app and P@ypal only!

$minnieplant3

@janellec03

LOVE U

- Cupid 𖥔 ࣪ ᥫ᭡ꗃ⋆࣪.

︻デ═一 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 1- Four of Wands, The Fool, Page of Swords, Nine of Cups, Page of Wands, The Wheel of Fortune.

"Hi you! I've been sleeping a lot, can't seem to do anything else lately because of how tired I've been. Finally. I can sleep as much as I want to now because of a situation that just so happened to end recently. Death.

What now? See, I've been wondering the same thing. But let's not even worry about it, let's just sleep as much as we want to because we finally can, even if it's only a little nap time out of your day do it because I gotta see you one last time later, I've got a message for you in your dreams. Spirit will tell you, don't worry about missing it or when <3

Resting so much so when I do have to work, you know, find that balance again between work and fun, I can focus on what's so important to me a lot better, I mean really give it my all... You know? Lol

Sorry, I dream a lot, you might notice my head is always in the clouds. I have very air energy like a Gemini.

Things are finally clearing up for me! I feel at peace, maybe we mirror each other and things are also getting better for you too? You have to let me know, okay? I feel like I can finally breathe again, be optimistic without being scared the rug is going to get snatched from underneath.

I've been working so so hard on my craft, putting in so much love and effort into my work and I feel really hopeful that all of my productivity will pay off soon, consistency is key, right?

I really like the color yellow, 😄 talk again soon!"

Hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to do the poll below 👇🏾 ✨

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 2- Knight of Wands, I forgot to write down the rest of the cards I'm so sorry 😞

"I have no problem with putting in hard work for anything I want, even you, you know? If you don't want me the moment we catch eyes I'll make you ;)

The moment I catch you I'm going to make sure I never stop loving you, I'll make sure every day is beautiful, even on our bad days we'll kiss each other good night before bed still. I love you!

Why do you keep worrying yourself? All of that doubt in that pretty little head of yours isn't good, you should lay it all to rest before you make yourself sick baby. Sleep more, practice some self care before you run yourself crazy, okay?

I'm so proud of you, you know, for whatever amazing things you've accomplished lately. I believe in you, I'll always be your #1 cheerleader!

You should go out and celebrate! Enjoy the sun, you deserve it my angel! Promise me you won't let this go by like it's just not that big and you'll go out and do something? Pinky promise?

Stay focused! You're on the right path, you're doing amazing! I promise you, all of this will be worth it, it's worth our future 💓 keep going, I know you can do it! 🎉"

Hope you enjoy!!☺️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 3- Queen of Cups, Justice, Four of Cups, The Moon, Three of Swords, The Star.

" Hi my love, you know I don't talk a lot haha, so I'll make this quick as usual and get out of your hair so you can go on.

I just want to remind you, you're my queen, my favorite, my whole world ❤️ I think red looks really pretty on you btw but anyway, I love and miss you like crazy at times like these.

I am going through something right now, a legal situation, a situation I wish would come to an end right now because it's so heavy on me, it's hurting me but I know at the same time it's happening to me because it's part of my karma, something that's forcing me to look so closely at myself, at every shadow because I think it leads me to you. My everything. We're going to get married, I'm so sure of it.

I'm keeping hope alive, I'm hanging on to every thread of it I've got. I'm working on everything right now, I'll catch up with you soon sweetheart 💋 I'm going to kiss you when I do, you won't be able to get rid of me. ;) "

Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to do the poll below!!

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Pile 4- Ace of Cups, The Hanged Man, King of Wands, Nine of Cups, Knight of Cups, Nine of Wands.

"I want to come to you with amazing news but I can't, I'm sorry to say, I've taken a turn for the worst right now. Don't worry, it's temporary.

I am slowly building myself back up, that's what I'm doing right now if you're wondering what I've been doing all this time. I'm healing day by day and I hope you are too sweetheart. I might be a bit stuck and tangled up right now, but I'm clearing through it!

I'm the kind of guy who will pursue you with nothing but kindness until I make you fall for me with your charm, I'm cute, I know I am, you'll love me, I have curly light hair, and a really cute smile. You'll think I'm so adorable.

I want to offer my heart to you, fully, 100%. You have me, all of me as long as you give me you in return, I hope you do, I can't be without you once I know you.

Take care my love ❤️."

Hope you enjoyed ❤️ Don't forget to do the poll below!!

[caplanbuckybarnes]

One Life to Live (Mafia! Steve Rogers)

Summary: Steve comes home from a bar fight.

WC: 560ish

Warnings: Flangst

A/N: i'm reposting old fics I've been hunting down on tumblr. Sorry for the insurgenace of fics!

Read on Ao3!

--

Steve grimaced as he looked down at his shirt, blood displayed vibrantly on the white material as he casually strolled away from the scene where three dead bodies rested against the barhop.

“Buck?” He asked into the phone as he settled into his Monte Carlo. “Trash needs to be removed from that seedy place on Fifth Avenue, a’ight? Make sure to be discreet.”

“I’ll be right there with Tony, a’ight?” Bucky responded just before the blond man had disconnected the call, throwing his cell phone down on the car seat next to him.

Just as he had driven across the city and parked into his driveway, his cell phone started ringing, filling the silence in the car. He picked the device up and smiled softly as your name displayed brightly on the screen.

“I’m parking now, sweetheart,” he answered as he toed out of the car and walked through the open garage. “I’ll be upstairs in a moment.”

He hung up the phone and grinned softly to himself as he opened the tool shed and walked inside, pulling out a replacement shirt before putting it on and toeing off his shoes and replacing them with black slippers on his feet.

He waltzed through the garage door and walked down the hallway into the kitchen and grabbing a plum from the kitchen island and biting into it. He made his way up the staircase and called out your name.

You responded from the bedroom.

He walked inside the room and felt the tension in his shoulders fade as you were cuddled deep underneath the thick duvet. “I was thinking today,” he announced softly as he walked over to you.

“About what?” you asked, smiling softly as he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips before he sat down and clasped your hands between his.

“How lucky I am that you’re in my life,” he smiled softly and raised your hand to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “I missed you today.”

“Steve,” you sighed, gently taking your hand out of his touch and sitting up in the bed. “I love you.”

“And I’m a lucky man, ain’t I?” He grinned, feeling his phone buzzing in his pocket, knowing it was Bucky informing him that the deed was done and over with.

“Dance with me?” You asked softly. “I feel like I haven’t been in your arms since our wedding night.”

He chuckled. “What brought along that question?”

You shrugged, still supporting a curved lip. “I found another medley that I wanted to dance with you to.”

He rolled his eyes affectionately before tossing the duvet away from your body an pulling you to your feet.

You walked over to the radio where your iPod sat in the cursor. You scrolled through your music until you have come across the song you’d wanted and pressed play, filling the room with a soft piano tune.

“This is-” he blinked, recognizing the song almost immediately.

“Our wedding song,” you nodded, walking straight into his arms. “Do you remember that night?”

He chuckled as he started swaying the both of you on the spot. “Of course I do. I’d be a fool not to remember how elegant my girl looked in her dress.”

“I love you,” you smiled as you nestled your cheek against his shoulder.

“Always and forever, my love.” he mumbled as the two of your dance on the spot.

--

Join my tag list?

Please be kind and reblog if you enjoyed!

[luveline]

Could we please get vampire Sirius? Like maybe he originally lured reader in to drink from her but was just totally enamoured by her because she isn’t scared of him? Love you xx

love you!!

“Do you often accompany strange men to cemeteries?”

You pick a little piece of lint from your sleeve and move on through the gravestones, “Only ones in need. Padfoot! Come here, boy.”

Sirius feels bad for lying to you about his dog that he doesn’t have, but he’s hungry. It’s like blaming a cat for killing a mouse. Nature is nature is nature, and you’re pretty enough to make feeding from you a thrill and a half. He can’t believe you’d been this potent a fool as to believe his lie in the first place — the moon is heavy as a silver medallion in the sky, light like silk pouring over the cemetery, but it is still a cemetery, and you are still alone with him, a strange man you barely know. 

“You should call him more, he’ll recognise your voice,” you suggest, turning to him with a very nice smile, as smiles go. This is the part where he jumps on you and holds you down. But you’re smiling, not a hint of suspicion about you. “You really don’t know what breed he is?”

“He looks like a mixture of every dog on earth.”

“A creature, then. Nice.” You wait for him to catch up with you before you point to a darkened area of the cemetery. Maroon pitch stains the floor, evidence of past misdemeanours. “Ooh, gross. That looks like blood. How many people do you think get murdered in places like this?”

“Definitely a few.”

“Is there even really a dog?” you ask. 

Sirius takes your hand into his. Your hands are almost as cold as he is, your fingers stiff with frigidity. He doesn’t bother trying to warm them, impossible, but he does attempt a seduction of sorts. He likes when his victims are scared; it gets the blood pumping quickly, and it tastes different. Not sweeter or anything so fanciful, but different. You aren’t easily scared, it seems, so he brings your hand to his lips instead for a kiss pressed against delicate knuckles. 

“Why wouldn’t there be a dog?” he asks. 

“There are other ways to get someone alone, you know?”

“Like what?”

“Like flirting,” you say, your shoulders relaxing as he continues his touching, his fingers dancing up the length of your arm and netting behind your shoulder to pull you in. 

“There’s a dog,” he lies, he promises, staring into the innocent pools of your eyes as hunger burns with the ferocity of tears in his throat. “Why? You thought I wanted to be alone with you?”

He leans in, forcing you to close your eyes as he closes his. “You don't?” you ask. 

His gums sting as the razor tip of his fangs slide over his canines, sharp and thing. There’s no room for words now, only action. He kisses you softly, because if he’s going to kill you he thinks he can manage a kinder goodbye, your glossy lips parting at the pressure of his wading. He opens his mouth and yours opens with it, a gasp rushing between you as you feel the sharpness of his fangs and pull away. 

“Ow,” you say, frowning, “you vampires are all the same.”

“We— what?”

“You have no sense of sweetness about you. If you kissed me nicely at first I wouldn’t mind letting you feed on me." You scowl, pressing your pinky to your bloody lip, dissatisfied. 

"You want me to kiss you nicely?" Sirius asks. 

"I thought so, yes." You turn away from him. "Not very much anymore." 

For some reason, the idea that he could overpower you flees his mind. "Now, wait a minute, darling. I'll kiss you very nicely." 

"Sure you will. My lip is bleeding, I know exactly what you're like." 

"Nuh-uh." Something about your lack of fear —he's shocked, but it's hot. Really, really attractive. "Sweetheart, I've been kissing people for longer than you've been alive." 

"Ew." You giggle at him, your reluctance fading. "Okay, fine. But no biting, okay? You can bite me afterwards." 

Sirius grins and pulls you forward, barely caring about the implication of afterwards as you melt into the circle of his arms and kiss him with an ardency he hasn't felt for a few decades, at least. You shiver at his cold hand where it disappears under your shirt, but you smile into his mouth rather than shriek. (He's in love, probably.) 

[wileys-russo]

emily fox, “I can’t sleep, can we have ice cream?” “I was about to say that.”, late night ice cream in the kitchen

late night ice cream II e.fox

you shifted for what felt like the hundredth time that hour, positively suffocating in the sweltering humidity of the late virginian evening. having no choice but to become acclimatized to the sharp bitter cold of london, to travel back home to see your girlfriends family peak summer had been most welcome.

you'd been back only for two days now, most of yesterday spent wrapping your heads around the jetlag and taking it easy, pinching and poking one another all afternoon to stay awake so you would both sleep.

last night you'd both been utterly exhausted, and sleep came easily with the pair of you already out the moment your heads hit the pillow, bare legs tangled beneath the covers and chests rising and falling.

tonight you'd hoped would be the same case, a large handful of your girlfriends family and close friends having gathered in the backyard of her family home for a barbecue.

you'd watched on with a dazzlingly lovesick look plastered in your features as the elated smile on emilys own lips never faltered as she spent hours catching up with her loved ones.

pulling you in and out of conversations or hiding away to kiss you in her childhood bedroom the two of you felt like teenagers sneaking around again.

well aware that everyone knew you'd been together for a very long time, back where it all began there was just a new sort of nostalgic joy charged from your every interaction.

giggling i love you's between soft kisses where her lips tasted like popsicles and the smell of the grill filled your senses the two of you couldn't be happier.

however right now laid up in bed and positively cooking in the intense summer heat, you found that joy fast beaten into submission by the grumpiness which came from the inability to fall asleep, having laid here silent but suffering for what felt like hours now.

"hey, babe?" you were pulled from your thoughts by her voice, eyes flickering from the star filled night sky peeking out of her open window to meet the concern painted across her face as she sat up and stared down at you.

"you keep moving." the defender noted quietly, not unkindly but you detected the slight coat of frustration to her words as you winced. "i'm not used to this heat, i can feel it." you whispered, swatting at the air as if to fight off an invisible enemy causing a slight smile to paint her cherry red lips.

"i forgot what it felt like." emily huffed, dropping back down into bed beside you and you were grateful for the way her slender fingers grabbed yours, the rest of your bodies still refusing to touch due to the overwhelming humidity filling the room.

"i'm sorry i've kept you up em." you murmured guiltily, turning onto your side as she did the same, her hand squeezing yours in a silent dismissal.

"baby i know i say you're the light of my life but last i checked you're not the sun, you haven't been keeping me up this heat has." the footballer teased with a playful grin, toe poking your calf as your eyes rolled fondly.

"do you see the sun out there fox?" you quipped with a nod to the window, laughing softly as her free hand popped up to give you the finger. "you were supposed to find a smooth way to compliment me back, girlfriend." the older girl mocked sarcastically, poking your nose.

"oh sorry girlfriend." you paused a moment to think, an offended scoff sounding around the room as you shoved her gently.

"i'm thinking!" "explains why it smells like something is burning."

"okay you know what? after that there is no compliments, goodnight emily." you retorted, dropping her hand and rolling over to face the wall as she snickered. "you're so easy to bait, like a little fish." the girl teased, arm sneaking around your torso and her body shuffling closer.

"mmm that feels nice babe but it is way too hot to fool around." you sighed apologetically as her lips began to explore your neck, skin slightly damp with the sweat beading across both your bodies due to close proximity, your shared heat adding to an already overwhelming cocktail of humidity.

"i know." emily groaned quietly, rolling away from you and running a hand through her hair as you flopped onto your back, the two of you sharing a look for a moment.

"i love you." you promised, grabbing her hand again and bringing her palm up to your mouth with a soft kiss. "i love you more." the girl melted with a smile, leaning in to peck your lips twice before you both seemed to settle, a few stifling minutes passing where the room seemed to somehow get even hotter, a gust of wind doing nothing to ease it other than rattling the half cocked blinds.

"i can't sleep. can we have ice cream?" "i was about to say that."

you both shared another look and burst out laughing, hurrying to cover one anothers mouths like a reflex, all too used to being yelled at to keep it down when you'd had sleepovers as teenagers, both of your parents still not knowing you were anything more than best friends.

managing to swallow your laughter the sheet was kicked off and the pair of you very slowly and quietly made your way out of her childhood room and downstairs, closing the kitchen door with a soft click.

"mmm we have chocolate? caramel pecan? i think my mom keeps a tub of cookie dough hidden from my dad in the back somewhere-" emily pondered, rummaging through the freezer with a frown as your chin rested on her shoulder, exhaling happily at the crisp cold air fanning your face.

"i'll have chocolate, you have cookie dough and we can share?" emily offered, a grunt of success sounding as she located the hidden tub behind a bag of frozen peas.

"ugh baby we might not be able to fool around but i love when you talk dirty to me."

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

ﻣَﻠَﻜِﻲّ.

synopsis: arab royalty a/u, you’ve been betrothed to a prince from a kingdoms just miles away, but you two don’t seem to get along so well…at first

tags: alhaitham x reader, angsty in the start, vulgar, explicit, cunnalingus, fingering, penetration

wrd cnt: 1.3k+

a/n: click title for a song that i love, ( title translates to “royal”)

As you stepped into the grand, ornate foyer of Alhaitham's estate, your anxiety spiked. You had never felt so out of place in your life. The arranged marriage, a convenience for both your families, had been a shock to your system. Leaving behind your country, family, and friends had been a hard pill to swallow. You knew Alhaitham for years, your kingdom and his had a strong alliance, hence your betrothal making the utmost sense. Well, that is if anyone had bothered to tell you about it til a few days prior to the ceremony.

You throw your things to the floor, watching him stand so casually, his life remaining still while yours was pitted.

“What am I doing here. Why can’t I just stay back? No one in the Kingdom will have to know.”

Alhaitham, standing by the fireplace, raised an eyebrow. "You're here because our families deemed it necessary, Princess. We both know the arrangements.”

Your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that. You don't get to address me like we're old friends."

He smiles, his dark eyes glinting. "Well we were once, no? We're married now, whether we like it or not. You might as well get used to it."

The tension between you two was palpable, you feel the weight of your unresolved emotions. You had never intended to marry anyone in a matter of politics, especially not prince Alhaitham, who seemed to embody the very essence of arrogance.

"You have no idea what I've sacrificed for this farce, do you?" you spat, your anger boiling over. "I left behind everything that mattered to me. And for what? To marry some pompous prince who thinks he's above me?"

Alhaitham's expression darkened, his jaw working as he clenched his teeth. "You think I wanted this? I'm a prince- a gentleman, not some lovesick fool. I have duties, responsibilities for one day I shall be King. This marriage was as much a convenience for me as it was for you."

“For me? What the hell are you talking about- the only convenience I have now is a new carriage that’ll only take me to ridiculous dinners and stuffy tea parties!” You spout about in anger, slowly approaching him with your eyes casting a ferocity that wasn’t just the reflection of the flames from the fireplace.

“I was sold to you like a brood mare- what convenience do I have your majesty?!”

The air was heavy with animosity, the space between you cracked with tension. Your heart raced as Alhaitham took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours.

“Then leave. Leave now and you’ll never have to attend a ridiculous dinner, any stuffy tea parties, or ever have to look at this pompous prince again. I give you my blessing dear.”

Everything inside you told you to turn around and drag your feet out his castle, to hear your wedding dress trailing behind you as you forbade yourself to look back. Everything inside you except the rapturing feeling that dwelled inside your stomach, urging you to soak your heart in it: let it coat every atom of your body.

As his words came out, you couldn’t help but feel magnetized to him. His tone was calm, while his words harsh; beckoning you to swallow them like a pill.

“Well? Why aren’t you running princess?” He says, his finger grazing your cheek, watching you breathe heavier and close your eyes at his touch, brows wincing as his breathe hits your face.

“Shut up.” You say, or rather whisper, his lips feeling so close to yours you might faint.

Suddenly, he grasped your face, pulling you into a fierce kiss. The anger and frustration melted away, replaced by a burning desire you couldn't deny. His lips devoured your, tongues clashing in a frenzied dance.

You could felt your senses reel as Alhaitham's hands roamed your body, stripping away your lavish dress and undergarments with an efficiency that left your breathless.

You were naked, exposed, and yet you felt no shame for he had rid himself of garments as well under your touch. The anger and resentment had given way to a primal attraction that neither of you could ignore.

He broke the kiss, his chest heaving, and spun your around. Your hands slapped against the warm cloth stitched onto

the burgundy couch that stationed itself before the fireplace; Alhaitham's fingers delving between your thighs, his touch sending shocks of electricity down your spine.

He kissed the nape of your neck, swinging your braided hair to the your side to give him more space to leave his lovely marks upon your flesh.

Desire crackled through the air louder than the flames behind you, bodies moving in a rhythm as old as time. Alhaitham's hands explored every inch of you, his fingers teasing your sensitive spots, handling you and figuring out exactly what you liked as if it was as easy as breathing. You both surrendered to passion.

As his lips traveled down your spine, you couldn't help but arch your back in anticipation. You could feel the heat building between your thighs as his hands reached around touch you more. His fingers teased your nipples, sending shivers down your spine. You turned to face him, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath your touch. He pushed you down onto the couch, his mouth moving lower and lower until he reached the apex of your thighs.

Slowly he’d kiss you closer and closer to where you really needed it.

“Look how desperate you look princess, this is far from running you know.” He says with pride.

Before you can even respond with an insult or deflecting, his tongue flicked against your clit, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You moaned his name as he continued to lick and suck, his fingers slipping inside you to add to your ecstasy. You suddenly didn’t take his comment to offense.

The sensation was overwhelming, and you bucked your hips against his face, desperate for more.

He moved up to kiss you, making you taste your own arousal.

“Such a naughty thing you are…where’s all that anger? It was sorta cute”.

You could feel the ache of desire burning within you, anger now turning into wanting nothing more than to have him inside you.

"Fuck me," you whispered, the words barely audible.

Alhaitham's response was a low, menacing chuckle. "Oh, I will."

He slipped his cock up and down your folds, his tip prodding your glistening hole, still soaked with his spit. Slowly he’d enter you, watching your face contort as let out a small gasp as you felt him fill the empty space in your walls.

“Just relax okay? I’ll take care of you.” He assured.

He thrusted into you, slowly getting you used to his cock pounding against your pussy with a ferocity that left you gasping so much. The sounds of your lovemaking echoed through the silent rooms, a primal symphony that drowned out the doubts and fears. He hovered over you, eyes locked into yours and back at the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your tight hole, milking him for all it’s worth.

It wasn’t long before you came together, bodies entwined, feeling a spark of connection you couldn't explain.

It was as if, in this moment, your union was more than just a convenient arrangement. It was a union of flesh and blood, of sweat and desire.

As you both collapsed onto the couch, spent and exhausted, you gazed up at Alhaitham's face, his eyes gleaming with a newfound intensity.

"Maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all," you said; voice husky.

Alhaitham's smile was wicked, his teeth glinting in the fading light. "I told you, Princess. We'll make this work."the story

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.