#and of course that she had it worse than everyone in the world and “still pulled through”

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Mmm. Won't turn away some assistance and a few comforts, company, but been looking out for myself for over a century, red. And as a monster hunter in a world usually out to kill my kind just for existing. Haven't lived in the luxury and security you Sorceresses have enjoyed most of your lives. Luxury tends to breed weakness over time, in my experience. A good sword must remain sharp, not hung up on the wall to collect dust, rust and grow dull."

The Witcher's deep, amused voice returned to the crimson haired Sorceress as he ate and drank idly of the breakfast she had summoned. There was no denying how good it tasted, that was for certain. Though her concern, controlling and self interested as it was, was nevertheless a welcome change of pace out of her. By her standards. To say nothing of the way she looked at him and doted on him. Not quite in the way Shani had, which had been more genuine and selfless in motivation, but even so. It could have been far worse. He listened silently, still eating away as she spoke, considering her beauty and the matters at hand she raised. Her troubles. Of course she was already planning the inevitable bloodshed and death against her enemies, for the evening... but at least this time she knew better than to try to involve him in her dirty work. At least for now. Perhaps she was learning. He would take an evening of monster hunting over hunting Witch Hunters any day. Unless they attacked him, he had no reason to fight them... his approach to to handling everyone he encountered. Though Eskel couldn't resist a slight, bitter chuckle that the shoe was now on the other foot for the mages like herself... once so all powerful in the Northern Realms, leading pogroms against the Witchers once they outlived their usefulness, among many other crimes... now on the receiving end of the campaign of dehumanization and violent persecutions. Fate was not without its jokes, this one particularly amusing to him... especially after Deidre. The Black Sun. At last, drinking deeply of his wine, his low, cool tone returned to her, marred visage twisting into a grim, ironic smirk. Shining, viper eyes looking back Sabrina's way as he spoke some more truth languidly.

"And here I thought nothing was forbidden knowledge to mages, from what I've seen. Imprisoning and dissecting young women alive for the crime of being born under the Black Sun wasn't beneath you, Eltibald or Stregobor. Sounds like they're behaving like those they hunt, then. I got no personal quarrel with the Witch Hunters. Wasn't them who printed and spread the Monstrum, or destroyed most of the Witcher schools out of envy... my own included. They're after Witches, not Witchers. Traded with them for Dimeritium as well, now and again. Got some good quality shackles from them. Might be zealous, but your kind gave them plenty of good reasons to be, with all the scheming, demon summoning, monster making, Necromancy, murder and power grabs, among other things. Brought them down on yourselves, now everyone suffers for the actions of mages, as ever. There's a reason Nilfgaard keeps mages on such short leashes by comparison... you Aretuza and Ban Ard types saw to that. You must have known folk wouldn't put up with it forever. Sounds like poetic justice, to me... destiny ain't without a sense of humor, learned that lesson well."

@fallesto

She nodded, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "As much as I'd love to lounge around with you all day, Eskel, I do have matters to attend to. The world doesn't stop because we decide to take a breather." She plucked a grape from the platter, popped it into her mouth, and chewed slowly, the sweetness of the fruit mingling with the tartness of the wine. Her gaze never left his, and there was something in her expression that was a little bit different than what he was used to seeing from her, softer, gentle, around him now as she would hum a little bit, she had things to do of course, erase all trace of herself here, remove her magic, and ensure no one ever knew she had ever been here in the first place.

She chuckled, setting the wine aside. "I will not take long to have things done here, and then I can come with you. You need the company, that much is clear. You have barely been looking after yourself, disgraceful." She reached for a piece of bread, tore it in half, and offered it to him, which he took with a smile.

Then, well she moved and leaned back against the pillows, her eyes flickering to the tray of food before returning to his. "Witch hunters are running around this area, a great many as well, might deal with them, depending, on how many wanted posters to have my face on it." She took a bite of the bread, chewing thoughtfully before continuing. "They have been killing for weeks now, and before you ask, I know your stance of humans, bandits, rogues, and villains, so don’t worry, not asking you to kill them, I’ll deal with them myself."

She shrugged, a playful smirk curling her lips. "Besides, this lot here has been causing me headaches. They're not just seeking power; they're seeking knowledge. Forbidden knowledge, from what I've heard." She picked up a piece of cheese, nibbling at it delicately. "They've been raiding ancient ruins, seeking artifacts and tomes, power and knowledge, and they destroy them once they have them within their stupid little hands."

It’s better to leave the witch hunters stationed here, dead and buried, to ensure they cannot and will not pester her going forward, but one thing at a time as she would relax on the pillows and pick at the food, breathing out softy, a good night, a better morning, and she was as relaxed and unwound as a kitten, as she continued to pick at the food and eat away at it.

[diegoshargrieves]

listening to my parents talk about me is so fucking funny. "she's dealt with us for so long that at this point she's done. she's mentally checked out from having to give a shit about anyone. can you believe how corruptible she is just because she's almost an adult and she thinks that we're not her problem anymore?"

like man you are literally so close. so fucking close.

[fandom-go-round]

Realizing They're in Love: Reader x BG3

Warnings: Implied Internal Trauma, Personal Relationship Issues, Gross Stuff like Falling in Love

Astarion:

            He argues with himself for a long time before love comes to mind. It’s bad enough that he’s starting to like you but love? That’s just going to make things even harder. Astarion feels like the more he tries to talk himself out of it, the worse it gets. You corner him after dinner one night and he smiles, turning up the charm. You ignore his nervousness, giving him a simple wooden box. He immediately fills with dread; you want something. Of course you do. He’s not expecting there to be a book inside, the next one in the series he’s reading. You assure him that you don’t want anything in return, giving him a gentle smile before heading to your own tent. His heart thunders in his chest, fingers trailing over the cover. He’s not in love, Astarion tells himself as he goes to start the book. He can’t be but… if he is, it’s not the worst feeling in the world. Not with you.

Gale:

            He’s not against falling in love per say, Gale just isn’t looking. Honestly he’s not. This is more social interaction than he’s had in years and he’s not trying to fuck it up, thank you very much. That doesn’t mean he can’t forget himself, especially when you start asking him questions about magic. Gale loves magic most of all and he only realizes he’s been ranting after twenty minutes. He winces, scolding himself mentally and turns to you. You’re both sitting on the floor of his tent, sipping tea in the early afternoon. He fully anticipates that you’re going to half awake, bored to tears and doing something else. Instead, you’re staring at him with rapt attention, eyes bright and small smile on your face. When he’s silent for too long you ask him to keep going, asking if he’ll keep explaining. Gale is more than happy to continue, something warm in his chest. He hopes that you’ll keep looking at him that way even after he stops talking. And you do.

Halsin:

            Loud barks and hoots draw Halsin’s attention, the druid looking up from his papers. You’re a bit away from camp, Scratch and the owlbear cub playing with you. The three of you are chasing each other and wrestling, the cub slamming into the back of your knees. Halsin watches you go flying before laughing and grabbing the cub as best you can. You half swing him around, Scratch barking as you send his friend flying. The owlbear cub gives a roar, rolling through the grass and you laugh, chasing after the dog now. Halsin can’t help but smile; you’re so kind of everyone around you and he enjoys that you can relax. He hasn’t been ignorant to the feelings developing in his chest, just focusing on different things. The warmth he feels only grows as he watches you and he vows to talk about it. Halsin is sure he recognizes the looks you send him; he just needs to find the right time.  

Karlach:

            She realizes she’s in love after a tough fight. Her blood is still pumping and she wants more enemies to show up so she can have an excuse to go wild. You’re joking around with Wyll on the other side of the battlefield, the warlock turning to say something to you. You offer a smile and begin to hike up the slope and trip. Karlach watches in slow motion as you land hard on your ass, sliding down mud straight into the river. Wyll is frozen on the edge of the bank and she quickly makes he way over, worried that you’re injured. By the time she gets over there, you’re laughing loudly, head thrown all the way back. Her heart skips a beat; you’re covered in blood and mud and all sorts of gunk but all she can see is the right smile on your face. She’s in love.

Lae’zel:

Lae’zel doesn’t call it love. It’s admiration, respect for your skills. There are very few people she would follow verses leading herself and she admits that you’re good at it. She also enjoys the sex and that’s always a bonus. The sun is just beginning to go down and you stop on the edge of a cliff to watch. Lae’zel turns to scold you (the group needs to get back to camp) but she’s struck by your figure. You look like a painting, noble and steadfast. Your face is determined but not tense, taking in the sunset. There’s something in your eyes, something softer than she expects and it takes her breath away. She swears to herself and turns away, missing the affectionate look you send her. She’s doesn’t call it love, even if deep, deep down she wishes she could.

Shadowheart:

            Night has finally fallen on a long, long day. Shadowheart is thankful that you’re the one with her on first watch tonight; your silence isn’t looming as she prays and the sound of sharpening blades is soothing. There isn’t the need to fill the silence with noise and it feels calm in a way that’s unfamiliar. Usually she finds the night comfortable but cold, like an winter breeze. You’re like the night but warm, a balm on an open wound. She smiles as she watches you, not looking away when you meet her eyes. You smile and she’s filled with affection, even as her hand throbs. The pain is worth it; you make her feel truly seen.

Wyll:

            You’re crouched by a small cave, voice low and arm outstretched. The group had just finished a fight, a camp overrun with bandits. Wyll scowled to himself, looking over the bodies strewed over the ground. The people had been innocent and he wished he had been faster. Movement catches the corner of his vision and he turns, watching as, slowly, a child comes out of the cave. They’re covered in dirt and blood but you smile and they take you hand. Wyll can’t the stop the soft look from coming onto his face as you begin the check for wounds. The world can be a dark place but you give him hope; it’s more than he deserves.

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

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Part Two

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

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

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

Wordcount: 9.7K

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

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

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

Tashi had breathed life into you.

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

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

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

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

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

Or so you thought. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

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

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

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

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

“Hey, are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You deserve to be loved.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

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

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Go fuck yourself.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But Art won’t let it go.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up, Patrick.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

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

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

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

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

Art had been right about both of you.

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

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

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

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

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

“Inevitable.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

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

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

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

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

“Do that again.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Art.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that had not changed.

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

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

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

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

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

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

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

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

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

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

 But he’s still close, too close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The door to your room clicks shut.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

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

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

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

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

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

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

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

Only time would tell.

[loving-barnes]

LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

A/N: New Wolverine one-shot. I tried and... I don't know. I like the beginning and then it's like.. okay? Let me know your thoughts.

Pairing: Logan Howlett x mutant female reader

Warning: I have decided not to give proper warnings. I don't want to spoil the story. BUT please, only 18+. Minors DNI.

Words: 4000+

Important note: HughJackman!Wolverine (so he's tall!)

FULL MASTERLIST | LOGAN HOWLETT MASTERLIST

LOGAN HOWLETT - A LITTLE GAME

Everyone was looking for her - Magneto’s brotherhood, the X-men, the Avengers and god knows who else. They all wanted her - for good, for bad, to use or to kill. She became the biggest threat in a matter of seconds. That’s why Logan had to be the one to find her first.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get her for months. She was sneaky, using her power to hide from the whole world, even from him. Leaving the continent would be too risky. She had to stay in the States, right? Maybe Canada? 

It all happened so fast. There was a moment where he questioned everything. In the end, he wanted to fight for her… with her. Was there still a chance he’d find her? She could be anywhere. Surprisingly, Logan never lost hope. 

One day, Logan got a tip from some random skanky woman who approached him in a New York dive bar. He was drinking his daily dose of whisky, head lost in thoughts. He had her picture, looking at it. Such an innocent yet powerful being. His heart ached.

“I know her,” the woman approached him out of nowhere. She leaned against the bar, smiling. Her eyes were locked on the photo. “Pretty girl.” 

Logan’s eyes found hers, frowning. “Where is she?” he asked angrily. 

She chuckled. “Now hang on, sugar,” she sat next to him, exposing her long smooth legs. The miniskirt didn’t leave anything to the imagination. Logan’s eyes travelled from her legs, all the way up to her face, but he was not interested. “How about a drink first?”

He reached for his drink. It went down his throat in a second. He smashed the glass against the bar, shattering it. His eyes darkened. The adamantium claws got out, pressing them against the woman’s throat. Logan was not in a mood to play around.

People gasped. They were afraid. A mutant in a bar threatening other humans was unacceptable. Guns were loaded and pointed at him. Logan didn’t care. 

The woman yelped. Fear crept into her eyes. “Tell me where she is or you won’t be able to see the sun rise again,” his voice was low, intimidating. 

“S-strip club, down the street,” she managed to get out of her throat. Her body was visibly shaking. “I saw her there. She was there an hour ago. P-please, don’t hurt me.” 

He didn’t say anything. The claws retracted back under his skin. Logan was out of the bar in seconds, heading down the street to the club where the woman said she spotted the one he was looking for. His heart beat fast. Was he finally about to get her? It’s been months. 

Everyone wanted the most powerful mutant on the planet. Some wanted to use her, others wanted to destroy her. Logan wanted to get to her sooner than the rest of the world. All he desired was to protect her.

She’s more powerful than Jean ever was, said Charles to him not long ago. They didn’t have a name for her. No one knew where her power reached, or what her limits were. Jean’s dark side was destroyed with the help of the Scarlett Witch. With Y/N, they didn’t know what to expect. Was she worse than the Dark Phoenix? 

Expect the unexpected, said Charles to Logan once he decided to bring her back.

Logan’s eyes locked on the big pink neon sign of the strip club. He sighed. Of course, she would hide somewhere in plain sight. Who would try to find a woman like her in a place like this? She was the kindest teacher. Innocence was her second name. Everyone would expect her to flee the country, or hide in the mountains. No, she hid under their noses in the city that never sleeps.

Expect the unexpected. Well, shit, he didn’t expect this at all. 

He entered the club. The heavy smell of cigarettes and sweet perfumes hit his nose. The lights were flashing as the girls kept dancing around the poles. They slowly undressed for the crowd of hungry eyes. Men were holding bills in their hands, roaring and whistling, ready to throw them at the women.

Drinks were poured into glasses and onto women’s exposed breasts. Some wished to lick them, to feel their flesh and alcohol on their tongues. 

Some ladies brushed their hands against Logan’s shoulders and arms to get his attention. The fake smiles and lustful gazes did nothing for him. They talked to him and tried to seduce him. He remained focused on his goal. His eyes travelled around the place, trying to glimpse Y/N. 

Flashes of images hit his mind. He remembered it all - the laughs, the drinks, the simple days back in the X-mansion. The day when their lips first touched, he knew he was a goner. 

Logan huffed, anger rising inside of him. Would she sell her body to all those creeps in here? Would she dance for them to make money? The thought of other men touching her body made his blood boil. Logan was sure that if he saw a man touching a piece of Y/N’s skin, he would slice his arm with his claws. 

There was no sign of her. Was the woman from the bar lying to him? Was this a trap? Logan’s fists clenched. He had to be careful. Even a place like this could be dangerous. God knows who’d own this place. 

Somewhere in the haze, he noticed the familiar eyes watching him. Their colours sparkled in the flashing lights. She was like a goddess, walking around the mist and colours with her long satin robe flying around her. Logan could smell her from afar. The scent was overpowering his senses. 

One blink, she was gone. Was he hallucinating? He sighed. His mind had to be playing tricks on him. Or was it her?

Logan.

Her voice rang in his ears. He could smell her more as if she was closer than before. Logan’s body twisted and turned, trying to find her in the crowd. He was sure she was here, watching him like a hawk. 

There was a lingering touch on his shoulder. It moved from one side of the shoulder to the other, fingers lightly pressed against his flannel shirt. He could feel the electric touch that belonged to her. 

 “Y/N,” he breathed her name. No one would be able to hear him over the loud music. “Stop the games.” 

He heard a group of women laugh. His eyes moved to them. They gave lap dances to some businessmen. Their hands were all over their bodies.  

Again, his nose caught Y/N’s scent. It was so close, closer than before. When his eyes looked forward, he could see her in her full glory. He cursed. Was he supposed to be aroused or upset?

First, he noticed the exposed legs and high heels on her feet. Then there was the dazzling dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Her breasts were about to pop out of that damn outfit. And then there was the damn satin robe. Fuck! Her dress was provocative. Compared to the other strippers, Y/N was wearing more than the rest of the ladies in the club. 

What happened to the woman who radiated pure innocence? This was someone else, someone new. Did she have a dark side that decided to wake up from its slumber?

Still, his jeans felt tighter than before. 

His legs moved towards her. Logan got through the dancing women who tried to reach for him some more. They wanted a piece of him. When was the last time a man like him walked into a place like this? His eyes and mind were only on one woman. 

“Don’t run,” he said to himself. He knew Y/N would hear his words. 

Logan knew the game wasn’t over when he heard laughter inside his head. He was close until he wasn’t. She was gone once again. “Dammit, Y/N. Stop this.” 

Again, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulder. This time they pushed him down. His ass ended on something soft, comfortable. It was a chair. Where did that come from? 

“Want a dance?” He felt a hot breath close to his ear. The touch remained. Logan knew this wasn’t a trick. She was behind him. “I can help you relax.”

Logan had enough of her shit. He swiftly grabbed her wrist, pulling her to him. He was impatient. Her face appeared in front of his. He lost his breath for a second. The red lips, the glitter in her hair… he wanted to devour her. There was a smirk plastered on her face. 

“Strip club?” Logan growled. “What the fuck?” 

Y/N lazily climbed on his lap, pressing her core onto his forming erection. She bit her lower lip and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. “What’s the matter, Lo’? Don’t you want to have some fun?” she titled her head, raising a brow. 

He gritted his teeth. “I’ve been looking for you for months,” he said, angry. “And I find you here? Of all places?” 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” she blinked a few times. “Who would have thought that little ol’ me would hide here?” 

His hands gripped her hips tightly. He inhaled her sweet perfume. He needed to get straight to the point before he’d lost his mind. “Why did ya run?”

Y/N glared at him. “What kind of a stupid question is that?” she pushed her body from his a little. She had to get a better look at him. “All of you turned against me. One mishap and I became the villain.” 

Y/N’s mutation evolved into something no one has ever seen before. It brought the attention of other groups that wanted her neck, or power. The Professor admitted she represented something beyond explanation. Inhuman was the word he used? It was new, dangerous. Fingers were pointed, threats had been made. Everyone pushed until she ran from the X-mansion and left everything behind. Now everyone was after her - the X-men, the Avengers and Magneto. Fuck, she even heard that the government wanted her. God knows how many organisations and bounty hunters were trying to get her. Rewards were made. The numbers had seven figures or more. 

Logan’s eyes widen. One of his hands sneaked behind her neck, pulling her closer to him. “I didn’t.”

“Fuck, right,” she rolled her eyes. “When you found out what I could do, you stepped away. I can remember the betrayal in your eyes. Or was it fear? Were you afraid, Logan?” her nose brushed against his. “Were you scared of me or this?” she pointed between them. And then, she pushed away from him. 

His right hand gripped Y/N’s hair and pulled on it, exposing her neck. Logan pressed his nose to it, inhaling her sweet scent. “Don’t ever say shit like that,” he threatened. “I was never scared of what was going between us.” 

Y/N moved her head and pressed her lips to his ear. “Or did you realise you still wanted Jean?” She hit a sensitive spot. There was a history between Jean and Logan. Y/N knew damn well nothing ever happened between them. The redhead’s eyes were only on Scott. And yet, she had to dig into it. 

Logan’s hand moved to her neck, squeezing it. He made her look at him. Even in the dim lights, his eyes darkened. He hated those words that had escaped those pretty red lips. “Stop it,” he growled. “You mean more to me than she ever did.”

Y/N rolled her hips slowly, grinding on his noticeable bulge. Logan moaned with every movement she did. The grip on her throat never loosened. With the flashing lights and changing colours, the tension between them thickened. 

“You are lying,” she challenged him. 

He squinted at her. “You know damn well I don’t lie, princess.” 

Y/N grabbed him by his stupid flannel shirt from all the irritation. “You never reached for me after everything that went to shit!” 

“You destroyed a skyscraper in New York,” he told her with a calmer tone. “A fucking skyscraper. Your mutation evolved with a snap of the fingers. No wonder the shock, the fear or everyone’s need to get their hands on you.” Logan pulled her face closer to his. Their lips almost touching. “Before I could collect my thoughts, process what the fuck had happened and get to you, you ran away.” 

She squinted at him. “You pulled away from me,” she blamed him. 

“I didn’t,” he tightened the grip on her throat. She moaned. “I’ve been looking for you for months - months! You think I’d do that if I pulled away? Do you think I’d pick Jean over you? Don’t think so little of me, princess.” 

A rain of flashing lights started. Logan had the perfect chance to see her face. The red lips, the sparkle in her eyes. He saw the whole universe in them. 

“Why here?” he had to ask. “Of all places, why did you hide here?” 

She showed him her bright smile. “You’d never expect a good girl hiding in a place like this. It kinda worked.” 

And then she snapped her fingers. The people around them stopped moving. They became living statues. The music kept going, the lights still flickered and changed. Logan’s eyes widened. His head moved from side to side. Powerful, that’s what Y/N was. And beautiful. Sexy. Dangerous. Good. Her heart was still good. He had to believe.

Waves of anger flashed through his body. It was still a play. If she wanted to play, he would obey - under his rules. “Tell me, baby girl,” the hand from her throat slid down to her breasts. The other hand joined. They squeezed them through the fabric. It made her hips roll some more. “Did you let any of the guys here touch you?” he tilted his head. 

Her head tilted back as she enjoyed his big hands on her chest. His nose found her pulse on her neck, pressing his lips to it. He sucked a mark on her neck. “Baby girl, you are mine and only mine,” he growled into her ear. 

“What makes you think I’m yours?” she tried to fight back.

“If I was anyone else, you’d use all your powers to get rid of me. Maybe even kill me. You didn’t,” he stated.

“I’d never kill anyone for fun, Logan,” she said. “You know that damn well.” She leaned closer to his face. “I’d never hurt you.” 

Their lips met in a kiss that brought colours to their minds. Each colour represented a different plea. I miss you. I need you. I want you. I love you. It was messy, it was sweet. Their tongues danced and explored. It was needy, it was deep. It’s been months since they last shared a passionate kiss. 

It brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. As much as she wanted to be strong, in front of him, she couldn’t. He was like a home she never had. Her heart ached that she had to leave him. But what was there to do when they all turned against her? She believed Logan did too. 

Logan felt he was falling. Everything around him felt light. And then his back fell onto something soft. The chair under his ass was gone. He grunted, breaking the kiss. There was a bed under his body. “What the shit?” he was confused. “Where are we?” 

“Champagne room,” said Y/N who sat on top of him, still fully clothed. The only thing missing was the satin robe. “For some privacy.” 

He raised a brow. “And here I thought you’d wanted to give those living statues a show.” That’s when he heard laughter from behind the walls. The people were moving again. 

Y/N’s thumb swiped over Logan’s lips. They were stained from the red lipstick she wore. Before she retracted it, he pressed a kiss to it. “Since when did you learn to teleport?” he asked. “Last time I checked, you didn’t know how to do half of what you did today.” 

“Just a mind trick, no teleportation,” she said. 

Logan wrapped his arms around her waist and abruptly jumped on his feet. He held her tightly until he smashed her back against the nearest wall. She lost her breath for a moment. “I’m not fucking you on that disgusting bed. God knows how many people fucked on it before us.” 

“Shame,” she shrugged. “I thought you liked it dirty.” Y/N’s legs clenched around his waist. 

Logan’s lips were back on hers in a hungry kiss. When one of his hands reached down to her covered heath, she moaned into his mouth. “There’s the pretty sound,” he chuckled. His lips moved to her neck where he kissed and nibbled on her skin until he left another mark there. That’s when his fingers found the strap of her thong, ripping it off her in one harsh pull. 

He looked into her eyes, grinning like a devil. “I can feel how wet you are for me, pretty girl.” His middle finger had buried deep inside of her. “Did other men make you this wet?” 

Y/N whined. “I’d never let any other man touch me, Logan,” she confessed. 

He tilted his head. This time, two fingers slipped inside of her, fucking her with them. “Then why hide in a strip club?” He curled his finger, hitting a sweet spot. 

“Ah! I knew no one would ever come looking for me here,” she gasped every time his fingers brushed against the place that made her toes curl. “Fuck, fuck!” 

“Is that so?” he kept questioning her.

She tried to swallow the moans. “I’ve protected the girls from the perves,” she cried. 

“God, you are dripping.” His fingers left her core and went straight to his mouth, tasting her. “Pretty princess, you taste divine,” he smirked. Immediately, his lips pressed against her in a messy kiss. 

His body pressed hers even more onto the wall as one of his free hands went to his jeans to get out his painfully hard dick. He pressed the tip against her entrance, pushing it slowly in. 

“Ah, shit,” she cursed. Her mouth was wide open as she felt every inch of him. 

Once he bottomed out, his lips kissed her gently. “Taking my cock like the good girl you are,” he praised. 

“Logan,” she moaned his name. “Please, fuck me.” 

He pulled out slowly, leaving just the tip in. “Since you asked so nicely,” and he thrust back into her, making her squeal. She clenched around his cock with every move he made. “Doing so good, princess,” he praised her. “Taking me so well.”

It was fast, intense. Before she knew it, Y/N felt her orgasm approaching. One of his hands was already between their bodies, circling her clit. “Fuck, so close,” she mumbled incoherently. “Logan… Logan, please…” 

“Hold it, Y/N,” he ordered. “I’m almost there too.” 

“I… c-can’t,” she whined. Tears appeared in her eyes. The pleasure was surprisingly intense. Many feelings wanted to burst out into the open. Their lips pressed together in a sloppy kiss. He kept pounding into her as they tried to swallow each other’s moans.

What if this was for the last time? What if this would be their goodbye?

Her insides clenched around his cock as she reached her peak. Her breath quickened. She became a moaning mess while he kept fucking her through her orgasm. 

“I’m gonna fill you up, pretty girl,” he announced, staring into her eyes. His breath got lost as the release came, painting the insides of her walls white. The thrusts slowed down until he remained buried inside of her while his cum slowly dripped down his dick. 

Logan’s eyes found hers in a post-orgasmic haze. “So pretty,” he grinned. He watched as she tried to catch her breath. “My beautiful baby girl.”

Slowly, he pulled out of her. Y/N gasped once she felt empty. Carefully, Logan pulled her from the wall and put her legs on the floor. He held her tightly. “Fuck,” she cursed. 

“You good?” he asked. 

Her eyes lifted, meeting his. She smiled at him. “Yes,” she nodded. 

Logan put back his jeans while she fixed her already short, slutty dress. There was silence. With each passing second, it got heavier and more awkward. 

“I love you,” Logan confessed his feelings. One of his hands reached for her cheek, stroking it with a thumb. “I love you, princess. Goddammit, I fucking love you.” 

Her eyes kept scanning his face. These words were never said before. This was new. Y/N’s heart wanted to burst from Logan’s confession. Now that he reciprocated the feelings, she knew she’d do anything for him. 

“Come with me, please. I don’t want you to stay here, of all places,” he frowned. Even though they fucked in a strip club, he wasn’t fond of it.

She sighed. “Everyone wants to get me, Logan,” she said sadly. “Once I leave, the hunt will begin - the Brotherhood, the Avengers, the government. I can’t go back to X-mansion. That’s the first place they’ll check. I can’t endanger the kids.” 

This is what he was looking for. She was still a good woman. “So staying in a strip club is better?” he questioned. “Or are you trying to say you don’t want to be with me? Is that it?” 

Her eyes widen, mouth open. “What? No, no,” she grabbed his big hands, holding them tightly. “I love you, Logan. The only thing I want is to be with you. How can I do that when the world is against me?” 

“You are the most powerful mutant on this planet,” he said. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“And that makes me dangerous,” she stated. “Fuck, I put down a whole skyscraper with my powers. It was not my intention to do it, but it happened. People were hurt while I tried to save them. Fuck, Logan, the United Nations are now questioning whether mutants can be trusted again. It’s all my fault.” 

Logan shook his head, not wanting to accept she wouldn’t leave this place. He had to take her home, where she belonged. The school needed her. Everyone in the X-mansion was worried about her. “Baby,” Logan’s arm sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “We’ll figure something out. I won’t let any of those fuckers take you away from me. I’ll do everything to keep you safe and protected.” 

Her eyes sparkled with tears. “Oh, Logan,” her hand reached for his face, fingers grazing the mutton chops. She chuckled a little. “You are the only man who can pull this off,” she winked at him. “It suits you.” 

“So, what do ya say? Come home with me. That’s where you belong.” 

“Promise me this, Logan - you’ll be on my side, no matter what happens. Please, promise me this,” she pleaded. “Because, genuinely, I am terrified. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but I will if someone tries to get to those I love.” 

He could see it was important to her, to have someone standing by her no matter what. “I promise, princess,” he kissed her knuckles gently. “Fuck, if I could, I would promise you the world.” 

How could this grumpy, dangerous man be such a sweetheart to her? It made her knees weak. He was in love and so was she. “Quick question, how will we get back to X-mansion?” 

Logan licked his lips. “I have a bike parked at a bar where a woman gave me a tip you work here,” her winked at her. 

She made a face. “Yeah, Wendy, she texted me about you,” Y/N winked at him. “I’m mad that you wanted to kill her.”

“Fuck her,” he growled. “Did she write you she was hitting on me?” he raised a brow. 

A simple glare was the answer he needed. “So, does that mean you’ll come with me?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. 

His lips crashed with hers in a loving kiss. Logan’s arms wrapped around her waist, hugging her tightly. “That’s good, baby. Also,” he pressed his lips to her ear. “That little game you played with me when I arrived - hot.” 

Y/N smiled. “It wasn’t planned. I needed to find out your true intentions.” 

“Through the art of seduction?” 

“Something like that.” 

[cressidagrey]

Stars all aligned - Chapter 3

Summary:

If there was one thing that both Azriel and Zahra Archeron had in common, it was that they were both very good at blending into the background.

They just never thought that their family were going to be the ones who never saw them at all.

Warning:

Bashing of like...every IC member? Especially the Archeron Sisters, discussion of chronic pain

(Lovely dividers thanks to @sweetmelodygraphics)

Her father had had three ships. The Nesta, The Elain and The Feyre. 

There had never been The Zahra. 

Of course not. 

She wasn’t truly one of his daughters, was she? 

The ships were reserved for his legitimate daughters. Zahra was a bastard. And bastards didn’t get ships named after them. 

And still…still she had loved him. Loved her father in that stupid way that every child loved their parent. 

She still had yearned for his love, his affection and praise. The praise that only her sisters ever seemed to get.  It was such a stupid, childish thing, she thought to herself. 

And when he had died...it had still broken her heart. Because it had taken from her the...hope. The hope that one day he would look at her with something other than...regret.

He had looked at her with cold distaste, disdain clear in his eyes. Her mother…a common maid, that he had dallied with on a whim during his wife’s pregnancy with Nesta. And she had been the result of that particular choice. 

He had paid the price for it in his marriage, with the woman he had actually loved.

The woman who had hated Zahra…and made it very clear to everyone that Zahra wasn’t wanted or welcome around them. Her half-sisters were beloved. The beautiful daughters of their father. And she was the bastard child. An abomination. 

For Nesta and Elain the years at the cottage had been horrible. They had lost their status in the world, the hope for a match with a man in possession of a fortune.

But Zahra…Zahra had known that she would never marry a man with a fortune. She had hope at all to marry a man from a good family anyway…her options had been thoroughly limited from the time she had been born…because even servants didn’t often want a bastard born wife. 

And after the cottage…

Her options were just further limited. 

Still, she had loved the years at the cottage for one thing and one thing only: She had just been one of the Archeron Girls. 

(Everything else that happened…that was another thing entirely.) 

She had lost that when her father's wealth had been returned...to be thrown back to being a maid, a servant, not a member of the family, but the staff...it had been bitter. And still...still she had hoped. Hoped that one day, her father would...change his mind. Accept her properly as his daughter and not just as...as something he had been saddled with because her mother had died.

But the day never came. He continued to look at her as if she stained the very air around him. As if she was worse than dirt to him.

Maybe she was. 

But Zahra foolishly didn’t give up. She clung to that hope like it was the only thing that was keeping her alive. 

And then he had died. And Zahra had lost that hope.

She had been a fool to hold onto the delusion that one day her father would love her as he had his real daughters.  Such a silly, stupid, little girl she had been. To cling to something that could never be. 

And still, Zahra went and visited his grave. Still, she came there every week and laid some flowers near the headstone...

She never knew why she still did. It seemed….pointless. After all, it wasn’t as if her coming to his grave would bring him. But still, she continued doing it. Every single week. Without fail. 

And this week…this week she wasn’t alone. 

Zahra froze, the flowers clutched in her hands, as she saw them. All three of them. Standing in front of the headstone. Talking amongst themselves.  As if not even noticing that she was there. 

They probably didn't.

"Thank you for coming with me," Elain said softly. “I wanted him to hear it from me.”

"He would be so happy for you, Elain," Feyre said. Her voice was softer than usual, but it was clear that she was happy. "He would be so happy for you and Lucien."

What?

“He would be,” Nesta agreed. “Sad that he won’t be there to walk you down the aisle, but happy that you would be happy.”

Her sister got engaged? And nobody had...nobody had bothered to tell Zahra?

Her breath caught in her throat…the realization hitting her. They didn’t want to tell her…no, they didn’t care if she knew or not. To them…she wasn’t even worthy enough to get an invite for such a thing. They hadn’t…they hadn’t invited her. 

The numbness returned. Full Force.

The numbness she always felt when everything was too much. When all the feelings and emotions got too overwhelming. When she just simply couldn't handle it any longer and her brain shut down.

Numb. 

Numb was good. When she was numb, nobody could hurt her. When she was numb, she could survive. 

Her hand clenched around the stems of the flowers. And then, suddenly, her feet listened to her and she managed to turn around. To turn around and walk away, like her heart hadn't been shattered...like it was completely normal.

Her eyes had glazed over, her mouth was a thin line, but otherwise not betraying any emotion. As quietly as she had walked to the grave…she walked away. Her sisters clearly not noticing the fact that she had even been there, to begin with. 

She returned home to her broken little cottage.

It was probably a good metaphor for her as well, wasn’t it? she reflected weakly. 

That cottage…broken, dirty…a fucking mess. 

Her hands were cold as she clutched the flowers, her heart aching like it had just been pulled out of her chest. And no tears. No tears. Why wasn’t she crying? She wanted to cry. 

She wanted to collapse and sob until she passed out. But no. The feeling of numbness was still around her, like a cloak that just wouldn’t go. The one that always came in situations like these.

It was the only thing that kept her from completely shattering into a million pieces. 

She stumbled through the door, her body moving all on it’s own. She walked over to her small kitchen, and filled a bucket with water. Her hands shook so badly that the water sloshed over the top and on the floor. 

There was nothing Zahra could do against the grime that would cover her for the rest of her days…but she could scrub the floors.  

That's all she was good for, wasn't it? She was a maid's daughter, not a merchant. She would always just be a bastard daughter. Always just be a half-sister, on the edges of her family. 

It didn’t matter what she did, what she had done…what she had given to keep them alive, to keep them fed.

She swallowed the bile back down, forcing herself not to think about what she had done. 

It was over. She should be over it. She should be…

She kept scrubbing the floor, her hands reddening with the harsh lye soap she used. 

Sometimes she wished, she could scrub herself with that as well. 

Why was she even surprised? Was she seriously that stupid? Of course, her sisters wouldn’t bother to tell her. Why would they? She was just a bastard-born daughter. A half-sister. Why would they bother to invite her? 

She was a nobody. She had always been a nobody.

A bastard that no one wanted. That no one loved. It had always been like that. Why did it surprise her now?

Why did it keep hurting her?

A single drop of water landed on the stone floor. Then another. And another. Slowly trickling down her cheeks.

Why did it keep hurting?

She should be used to this by now. Should have gotten used to the pain. But she wasn’t. 

So she kept scrubbing the floors until they were sparkling. Washed off the walls, until they were clean.

She kept scrubbing and cleaning. The floors had to sparkle, the counter gleamed, and the windows shone. 

Something needed to be clean. Needed to be pure. Because it wasn’t going to be her. 

Never going to be her. 

Anything to distract her from the fact that her sisters had just kept her out of a very joyous occasion. Like she wasn’t even worthy of being invited. 

She wasn't worthy of being invited. She should get that into her thick skull. 

She kept cleaning. She cleaned the floors and the walls and mopped and dusted and did her laundry.

She wondered if Azriel knew. The thought came unbidden to her. Did Azriel know that Elain and Lucien were engaged?

She had to stop the scrubbing and she was clenching the brush so hard that her knuckles had turned white. 

Did Azriel know that Elain was engaged? Elain? The one he had...this flirtation with? The flirtation that Rhysand must have put an end to, because nothing else made sense?

She understood completely why Azriel had fallen for her sister…for beautiful Elain. Who didn’t love her? Who didn’t find her beautiful? Elain, who could be sweet and kind to seemingly everybody she came across. 

Zahra looked at the clock she kept in the kitchen. 

There was a family dinner this evening at the River House, just like there was every week. She was expected to attend. Of course, she was. 

Granted, most of the time that meant that she sat through Nesta’s pointed comments and was otherwise ignored. 

But if Azriel didn’t know…she didn’t want him to be alone when he found out. 

Though, maybe he already knew…just Zahra didn’t. 

She didn't believe that though. He would have told her. She was certain of that.

He was a good man. There was no doubt about that. 

She glanced over at the clock, her hands clenching on the brush. 

Zahra had 2 hours. Just enough time to bake a cake to bring along and appear there...to pretend like her sisters hadn't broken her heart.

Two hours to pretend that her heart wasn’t shattered to a thousand pieces. Two hours to act as if she hadn’t been just completely left out. Two 

She took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. No tears. No tears.

2 hours to act like everything was well.

2 hours to pretend that everything was alright. That she was fine. That her world hadn’t just shattered into pieces. Two hours to shove all the pain to a little corner and not show anything at all. 

She could do that. 

She had done that before. 

***

Azriel would have realised that something was off with Zahra far quicker, if his hands weren't trying to kill him that day.

It was hit or miss if Azriel’s had feeling in his hands at all...and that day...they decided to be far too sensitive. The weather wasn't helping. Velaris had had another cold snap a few days ago and Azriel paid the price.

The bones in his hands and fingers ached, the nerves on fire. The cold had settled deep in his bones and there was nothing he could do to alleviate the pain. It was rubbing his nerves raw.

He had even considered not showing up for dinner at well...but he didn't want Zahra to face the rest of their family alone. 

Granted, most of the time, they just ignored them both…but sometimes they didn’t. 

And when they didn’t ignore her, well, then sharp comments were the norm and quite frankly…he was over it. For both Zahra and himself. 

His temper was on a far shorter tether than normally. 

His fingers were aching and burning. He never wanted to touch anything ever again.

He tried to ignore the pain. It was only a few hours. He could push through for a few hours. 

The first thing that should have told him that something was wrong was the bright pasted on smile on Zahra's face. It was...too much.

The smile on her face was too tight. Too forced. Not like her normal, natural smile.

Something was wrong. He could sense it. 

And then Elain showed off her ring.

The engagement ring. She and Lucien were engaged.

He saw Zahra’s face freeze for a split second before the smile was back to being plastered on again.

“I wish you two every happiness,” Azriel said softly. He found that he was even saying the truth. He was wishing them every happiness.

And this was what they all wanted him to say. It would hopefully get Rhys off his back as well.

Now, that wasn't that difficult, was it? Rhys drawled in his mind. Azriel was half tempted to reach for his shadows and wrap them around his brother’s throat.

But he refrained himself from it.

He was glad that they were happy. He truly was...but Rhys’s smug voice in his head was not something that was appreciated at all.

He could practically feel the shadows twitch with annoyance. But he held back from doing anything...stupid. 

You got what you wanted, Azriel gave back, his voice icy.

Indeed I did, Rhys drawled back. Azriel could practically feel him leaning back in his chair, smugness seeping from his voice.

Azriel very much wanted to strangle him. 

But he didn’t. Because quite frankly…he was more worried about Zahra. Zahra who hadn’t said a word yet. Whose smile was far too tight, her eyes dull. 

Like a mask that was pulled over her face, hiding whatever laid beneath it. 

Something was definitely wrong with her. 

But nobody but him seemed to notice it. 

Especially not when Zahra was very good at making the mask as enthusiastic as Mor on her best days. 

“I am so happy for you! Congrats!” she gushed to Elain. “I hope you have a long and happy marriage.”

“Yeah, because you absolutely respect the sanctity of marriage,” Nesta muttered under her breath, low enough that Azriel nearly wouldn’t have caught it, if the shadows hadn’t snapped it up. 

The sanctity of marriage? From where was that coming from?

But then Zahra continued, her voice too high pitched. Way too cheery. Not like how normally she spoke. But no one else seemed to notice.

Her words were clearly fake, but no one but Azriel seemed to notice. 

"I know Father would be so pleased for you," Zahra continued, Nesta snorting under her breath and making a face like she had bitten into a sour lemon. Elain's face seemed to nearly freeze but Zahra just continued smiling brightly.

Even the mention of their father would usually cause Zahra to falter slightly…but today she didn’t even skip a beat. The smile stayed on her face, even as she continued to speak. Her voice was far too cheery, it was almost painful to listen to. 

Azriel glanced around the table at his family. None of them seemed to notice how...off Zahra seemed. Her cheerful voice and her overly bright smile.

How come no one else noticed? How could they not see how obviously fake she was acting? 

But then, nobody really cared, did they?

The rest of the family dinner was taken up with talking about Elain and Lucien's upcoming nuptials, an nothing else seemed to matter to them at all. 

Nobody gave them a second glance either when Zahra said her goodbyes and he followed after her, minutes later.

He caught up to her on a bridge crossing the Sidra. "Tell me what's wrong," he demanded sharply.

"Nothing is wrong," Zahra said, her voice, smooth and bubbly. He would give it to her: She was one hell of an actress. It was near imperceptively how well she was lying. But the dead look in her eyes gave her away.  "My sister just got engaged, what could possible be wrong?"

"Don't lie to me," Azriel bit out. “I can tell something is wrong. Now tell me what it is.”

His patience was fraying at the edges.

"What's wrong with your hands?" she shot back. "You have been clenching and unclenching them continuously."

“They hurt if it rains,” he gave back tightly. “Now you.” 

She stared at him, obviously not having expected him to actually answer that question. 

And then Zahra crossed her arms, nearly hugging herself as he had seen her do often, whenever there was something…something that brought up memories she didn’t want to think about. 

“Feyre, Elain and Nesta went to visit our father’s gravestone. I wasn’t invited," Zahra whispered, not looking at him. She kept walking, staring down at her feet. Clad in leather shoes that had already seen much better days.  

He could just stare at her. 

"You...you weren't invited?" He repeated back, stopping on the bridge.

She was their sister. And they had just not…not invited her? 

“I went to lay flowers there this morning, and I saw them,” Zahra said thickly. “Elain told him about her engagement….All three were there. I wasn’t invited.” 

He clenched his hands into fists again, the pain returning to them with a vengeance. 

“It’s fine, it shouldn’t hurt me," she said thickly. "They are his daughters. He had three ships named after his three daughters. And then there is me."

He was still trying to process her words. "It’s not fine,” he snapped out, anger rising in his chest. How could they just exclude her like that? “You are his daughter as well. You are their sister,” he continued, following after her. “They shouldn’t have just excluded you like that.” 

Zahra just shrugged, her shoulders caving in.

He felt her wobble on her feet and he reacted without even thinking about it. His hand shot out to grab her arm to keep her upright. He held her by the elbow gently to help balance her.

He watched as she continued walking, her shoulders slumped in. Her voice was quiet, like a whisper. “I know where I stand now...right?” 

They both knew it, didn't they? Rhys got what he wanted and was happy about it and how Azriel felt didn't matter...and Zahra...

Their family had never been normal by any means, but he had never thought...no, he had hoped. He had really hoped that they would never leave Zahra out like that. But they had done that this time. Left her out, like she was nothing. Like she didn't matter at all. 

And he hated that realization. He was used to solving problems. But this…there was no solving this. No way that he could fix this mess. 

"How bad do they hurt?" she asked him suddenly, her voice still broken. Or again.

He was surprised by her question, but he quickly looked down at his hands...his hands were clenched into fists, and his knuckles were turning white. He loosened his fists a bit and grimaced.

“Like hell, but I’ll be fine,” he muttered out. 

“Don’t you have a cream or salve from Madja or something?” she asked him, still holding onto his arm as they made their way to her cottage in unspoken agreement. 

“I do,” he agreed with a sigh. “It just doesn’t help much.” Or at all. A drop of water onto an inferno. 

“Let’s go home and try that,” Zahra said nonetheless. “I  have a hot water bottle you can have as well…does warmth help?” 

“It does,” he answered, surprised by how…much she was trying to help. Even now. Even when she had the most horrible day he could imagine…she was still trying to make him feel better. 

Her cottage was sparkling clean that evening…spotless and immaculate. 

The shadows fetched the salve as he sat down heavily at her kitchen table. Zahra returned just seconds later, bandages in her hand. 

He had expected her to hand him both and was startled when she grasped his hand.

Azriel had been expecting her to just hand him the salve and the bandages. He had not been expecting her to actually just take his hand in hers. To not even hesitate. 

To touch the scarred skin like it didn’t even matter.  People flinched back from the scars. they didn't just...He had people flinch away from his scarred hands before. He had never had someone just grasp them in theirs and not even blink at the sight of the scars. 

But she wasn’t done shocking him. Not when she started spreading the salve over his hands, gently and thoroughly.

Her fingers spread the salve over his skin with gentle, circular motions. The salve was warm on his skin and it brought immediate relief. He could feel his hands slowly relax under her touch. 

He felt it more than he saw it at first...though then it became visible as well. Her hands warmed up against his skin, something like a prickling sensation under his skin, but the feeling was....nice. soothing. And then he could just stare at the glowing golden light that radiated from her skin as she cradled his hands.

"Sorry," she apologised meekly, the light stuttering. "Normally it's just sparks."

He was staring, mesmerized almost at the light.

It was only after a moment that he finally processed her words. “Sparks?” He questioned, his voice much softer than usual. 

Zahra nodded. 

Seconds later, sparks started to dance across her skin. Tiny, golden sparks. Like little stars, dancing across her skin. 

“It’s beautiful,” he found himself saying, his voice sounding a bit raspy. He was completely transfixed as he stared at the lights dancing across her skin. 

Azriel had never seen anything more beautiful in 500 years of life. 

It was…utterly mesmerising. 

Only then he realised that his hands didn't hurt anymore.

No ache, no burn, no stiffness. Nothing. It was just...the soft, gentle touch of her hands on his.

"Since when...Since when can you..." he asked, his voice raw.

He could not even form a proper sentence as he looked down at his hands. No stiffness, no ache, no pain. For the first time in years, he was feeling...nothing in his hands. 

He gently flexed the fingers of his hands, curling them. He felt nothing. Just the smooth, pleasant glide of the skin. Not a single throb or ache. Nothing. It was completely...incredible. 

He continued to stare at his hands, still completely and utterly speechless. His hands...the pain he had been dealing with in his hands for as long as he could remember...it was just gone. 

The scars were still very much there. Visible, and the sight of them would always cause his heart to ache. But the pain he had come to know so well...it was gone. 

The scars were still visible, but the pain…

He slowly looked up to her face, still completely, mind-numbingly stunned by what had happened. “How...what did you...? How?” He managed to ask, his voice breathless. 

"What?" Zahra asked him, her voice shaky. "I didn't hurt you accidentally, did I?"

He quickly shook his head “No, no, you did not hurt me at all," Azriel quickly assured her. “Quite the opposite, actually…” He said, flexing his hands again. He still felt no pain.  “They don’t hurt me anymore.”

He flexed and curled his fingers again, watching as they did so easily. No stiffness, no pain. He felt...nothing. 

"The sparks came after the cauldron," Zahra answered quietly.

“The cauldron?” He repeated back. The cauldron. 

Of course. 

"Can't see the future or be pure death, but I do have sparks," Zahra quipped weakly. “Useless, I know.“

No. Not useless at all.

Pure Golden Light. Healing Light. Similiar to Dawn’s gift maybe…but then he saw the sparks still dancing around Zahra and corrected that. 

No. Not similar. Completely unique to her. Cauldron-wrought. 

"No," he disagreed, unable not to stare at her. "Not useless at all, sunshine. You are pure light."

[girlgenius1111]

not what you think

barça x reader what are actually symptoms of a migraine and developing illness are mistaken for a hangover, unfortunately for r. alexia is not happy, and r is too out of it to argue with her punishment. fluff + angst ensue :) cw: mentions of illness, throwing up, etc.

-----

You felt awful. Sicker than you’d ever felt in your entire life. When your alarm went off, you wanted to unplug your phone from the charger and throw it across the room. There was a match this weekend, though. An important one. With a slew of injuries hitting the team, they needed you more than ever. And you were not about to let them down. 

This team meant more to you than you could express. They were the first people in your life to show you love, and care. Barça was the first place you felt like you belonged. And, for the first time in your life, you were really truly happy. You hadn’t realized, before, that you weren’t happy. You thought everyone felt the way you did. And then you arrived in Barcelona, and your entire world was turned upside down simply because, all of a sudden, people cared about you. It was amazing how much that could change in a person’s life. 

So, no. You weren’t going to call out of training because of a little migraine. Even though your migraines always preceded you getting sick, and trying to push through only made them worse.  You weren’t going to let anyone down. 

-----

To anyone looking in on the situation, anyone that didn’t know you very well, it would seem obvious that you were hungover. The team had a big win the other day, and a lot of your teammates had gone out to celebrate last night. You didn’t join them, of course, being only 17. You knew the rules; you weren’t to drink. You were lucky enough they let you live alone, and you weren’t willing to risk that privilege. 

When you walked into the locker room, sunglasses over your eyes, shoulders slumped, face pale, it was almost a deja vu moment. Pina, Cata, Patri, Jana, and a couple others had walked in similarly a few minutes earlier. Your older teammates took one look at you, and instantly came to the conclusion that you were, in fact, hungover. 

There seemed to be some unspoken communication between your captains, who fixed their glares on you instantly. Not that you noticed. You were too busy trying to drink water, hoping the throbbing pain in your head would lessen before you had to start recovery. 

That was the thing. It was supposed to be a chill day, just a quick workout to get the blood flowing, and then a lot of stretching. Alexia and Irene had decided, though, that the girls who had come in obviously hungover were to be punished. They knew what they were risking when they went out, and they did it anyway. So, they were sentenced to the regular laps. The girls were already outside getting started when you’d made it to the locker room, so you weren’t aware at all that it was occurring. 

You were confused, then, when Alexia approached you, a hard look on her face. It wasn’t how Alexia normally regarded you; it was known your captain had quite a soft spot for you, but the thought that you’d been out drinking was infuriating her, and she wasn’t in the mood to be kind. 

Once you looked up at her, she pulled the sunglasses off your face, throwing them into the cubby behind you with a scoff. 

“Up. Outside. Laps. You are already behind.” Alexia demanded, rolling her eyes when you squinted up at her in confusion. 

“Why?” You asked, voice raspy, which didn’t help your case at all. 

“Do not play dumb. Go.” Alexia said roughly. You stood shakily, and walked out the door without another word. 

You thought Alexia was angry that you were sick. You hadn’t thought it would be like this, at Barça, when you got sick, like it had been at your old club. Where you were expected to train through everything, and if you showed any weakness, you were pushed harder and harder. It appeared that Barça was just as you’d feared; too good to be true. 

You still didn’t want to make anyone angry, so you fell into step with your teammates, who all looked to be in varying states of misery, ignoring the confused looks they sent your way. They at least knew that you hadn’t gone out with them the night before. They weren’t sure why you looked so ill, or why you were running laps, but their own feelings of sickness were rather distracting, and they continued on without asking any questions.

You didn’t know how long you ran for. Alexia had said laps, and she hadn’t specified how many, so you supposed you were supposed to run until she said you could stop. The other girls eventually finished their laps, slowly making their way inside to join the rest of the team. You stayed out there, going around and around the field, practically a zombie on your feet. You felt so sick, so bad. You were surprised you hadn’t fainted, or thrown up. 

“Nena, enough. You can come in.” A voice called from the doors. You slowed down, practically falling to your knees, before you forced yourself back up. Your whole body was sticky with sweat, and your vision was weird. There was a blinding pain in your head, now, and you just wanted to lay down. You couldn’t show weakness, though. If anything, the state you were in only reinforced that message. 

You stumbled over to Alexia, accepting the arm she wrapped around your shoulders gratefully. She was still angry, though, still stiff against you. 

“Idiota,” she mumbled. You blinked a few tears away, knowing that crying wouldn’t help you at all. You tried not to be surprised that Alexia was acting in this way. It wouldn’t help to expect to be treated differently. You didn’t deserve it, and you shouldn’t have gotten used to it.

 “Are you going to be sick?” She asked after a minute, her voice still all stern and gruff. 

You took a deep breath. Strong. You had to be strong. “No.” You said firmly. 

“Good. Get in the gym, stretch, and catch up.” 

Alexia handed you a water bottle and gave you a gentle nudge towards the stretching area. You ignored the eyes of the team on you as you headed there, acting much more steady than you felt. Your hands were shaking, and the bright lights were somehow almost worse than the sun beating down on you had been. You were sweating, but freezing, as you began your stretching, the mumbling voices around you not meeting your ears. 

It was Jana that came to your rescue, approaching where Alexia was working on arms with Mapi, Irene, Marta, and Frido. It was brave of Jana, considering how angry her captain was with her for the previous night's activities. 

“Ale?” She asked tentatively, wincing when the icy glares of four of her teammates met her. Mapi was smiling of course, a sympathetic look in her eyes. 

“What?” Alexia asked, crossing her arms and raising an intimidating eyebrow at the younger girl. 

“Why is nena being punished?” 

Alexia looked at Jana like she was crazy. “Because she went out with you all and is hungover. Which we’ll be talking about later. It’s one thing to be idiots yourselves, but to drag a 17 year old down with you? I am disappointed, Jana.” 

Normally, those words would have made the brunette’s stomach drop. Instead, she was just more confused. 

“Nena didn’t go out with us. We’d never do that, she’s practically an infant. She’s not hungover, I think she’s sick or something.” 

It was almost poetic, how quickly you rushed out of the room after that. Realization was dawning across Alexia’s face, quickly followed by guilt, and the little group surrounding her was turning towards you just in time to see you bolt out the gym door. 

“Fuck,” Alexia muttered, moving to follow you out the door. She was stopped, though, by Ingrid pulling her back and shaking her head. 

“Ale, she thinks you're mad at her for being sick. Hang back for a bit, Mario and I will go.” 

The blonde looked like she wanted to do anything but hang back for a sec. Still, she trusted Ingrid, and what she was saying made sense, so she nodded her head and watched as the Norwegian walked out the gym door, quickly followed by Mariona.  

They found you in the bathroom, practically collapsed leaning over the toilet, dry heaving as there was simply nothing in your stomach to come up. 

Ingrid took charge of the situation, turning to Mario. “Get some water, and a couple ice packs. And tell the girls to stay out. 

Mariona saluted dramatically. “Yes ma’am.” Ingrid rolled her eyes, walking over to your crumpled form. 

“Hey, nena,” she said softly, stopping in her tracks when you reached a hand back, gesturing for her to not come any closer. 

“I’m okay, just need a sec,” you mumbled, before you tilted sideways, almost going headfirst into the wall. Ingrid moved fast, though, grabbing your shoulders and sitting down next to you. 

“Easy, honey,” Ingrid soothed, leaning you up against the wall and taking a closer look at your face. “What are your symptoms?” 

“No, I’m okay. Just help me up, I can finish training.” You insisted, although you made no move to stand up. 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “No, tell me what you’re feeling please.” 

You sniffed pitifully. “Migraine.” 

The Norwegian sighed roughly. “Let’s get you home, yes?”

You pulled away from her, then, stumbling to your feet. “No, I can finish training. Ale is already mad at me for being sick, I don’t want to make it worse, let me finish training please.”

“No-” Ingrid began, before she was cut off by the frantic sound of the door opening. Mario had returned with some water for you, and Alexia had clearly lost her patience waiting, and followed her in. 

“Pequeña, I am not mad that you are sick, I am so sorry. I thought you went out with the girls and were hungover,” 

You were swaying unsteadily on your feet, all three girls watching you very carefully. “You aren’t mad I’m sick?” 

“No, of course not, nena,” Alexia replied, watching as your expression transformed from guarded and determined, to one that was terribly upset and tearful. You leaned, just barely, in Alexia’s direction, and she took her opportunity to wrap you up in a tight hug. It didn’t take long for her to realize you were crying into her shirt and she was sure she’d never felt more guilty in her whole life. 

“I don’t feel good,” you murmured pathetically. 

“I know, nena, I know.” Alexia whispered, frowning at the fever that was very clearly radiating off of you. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” She nodded meaningfully at Mario and Ingrid, who left the bathroom to grab your bag from the locker room. 

Alexia really only realized just how sick you felt when you nodded, resigned, and put up no fight when the older woman picked you up. 

You were practically limp in her arms as she carried you out of the room, eyes falling shut as you rested your head against her chest. You were clearly quite uncomfortable, eyebrows furrowed with pain, and Alexia decided to just take you right to her car; she’d worry about both of your bags later.

------

You were pretty out of it all the way home. So out of it, in fact,that you didn’t realize you weren’t being taken to your home until Alexia was carrying through the front door of her house. 

“Olgui, ven aquí,” she called. The blonde’s girlfriend appeared, the smile on her face disappearing at the sight of you. Alexia very carefully laid you down, allowing you to flop onto the couch. You were a little more aware now, aware enough to squirm uncomfortably when you realized you weren’t at home. 

“Ale,” you complained, the room being much too bright for you. You rolled into the cushions of the couch, hiding your face under a pillow. 

“What did you do to pequeña?” Olga wondered, moving closer when Alexia looked at her rather helplessly. 

“I made her run laps and she’s sick,” Alexia admitted. Olga smacked Alexia’s arm lightly, and the blonde rubbed it even though it hadn’t hurt. “I thought she was hungover!” 

“It’s hot out, Ale,” Olga scolded. “What’s wrong with her?” 

“She said it’s a migraine,” Alexia murmured, avoiding her girlfriend’s eyes as Olga glared at her. It was obvious that Alexia hadn’t really thought through bringing you home. She wasn’t good at taking care of sick people, and she knew it. Her worry had been in overdrive, though, and all she could think about was getting you somewhere safe and comfortable. Thank god for her girlfriend, who took charge right away, crouching down next to you and carefully pulling the pillow away from your face. You groaned in complaint, and Olga smiled sympathetically. 

“Hey, nena, can I feel your forehead?” 

“Okay.” You replied, sighing slightly at the feeling of the brunette’s cool hand on your warm skin. 

Olga’s eyebrows pinched with concern. “You’re really warm, did you take anything this morning?” 

“No.” You mumbled, pulling the pillow back over your face when Olga retracted her hand. At this, the brunette turned to her increasingly panicked girlfriend, listing off a series of instructions and things to bring to you. When she was done talking, Alexia ran off to the medicine cabinet, and Olga pulled you into a sitting position, insistently handing you water. 

You let the two women hover over you, making you take a fever reducer, put a cool washcloth on your head, and drink an obscene amount of water. When they were satisfied with that, and you seemed to be on the verge of smacking the next hand that came towards your face, Alexia decided to bring you into the extra bedroom, and let you rest. 

You flopped right out of her arms onto the bed, and Alexia softly reminded you to shout if you needed anything, before leaving the room. You almost instantly drifted off to sleep, not sure what time it was, but relatively comforted by the knowledge that Alexia would probably come check on you soon. 

------

You slept right through dinner, and though Alexia wanted to wake you up to eat something, Olga advised her to let you sleep the migraine off. So at 10, when you still hadn’t woken, she refilled your water, left a snack on the nightstand, and headed to bed herself. 

The blonde had been sitting in bed, staring off into the distance for at least 45 minutes, before Olga got tired of waiting for her girlfriend to talk about whatever was clearly bothering her.

Olga put her phone down, and turned to Alexia, getting her attention. “Amor, what are you thinking?” Olga asked quietly, bringing a hand up to the nape of her girlfriend’s neck and scratching lightly. Alexia was deep in thought, though she relaxed a bit when Olga spoke. 

“Thank you for helping her.” Alexia murmured. 

“Of course.” Olga said easily. She paused for a moment, studying the blonde next to her that looked, shockingly and inexplicably, close to tears. “What’s bothering you?” 

Alexia just shrugged, but gave in when Olga gave her a familiar look, one that told her to start talking. 

“You… you will be a good mother one day.” Alexia mumbled, cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. 

“Thank you?” Olga said, blinking at her girlfriend, rather confused. 

“I do not think that I will be.” The blonde admitted. 

Olga softened, leaning closer into her girlfriend. “Why do you think that, amor?” 

“I was completely useless earlier. I hurt her feelings, and then I didn’t know how to make her feel better. She’s 17, and I couldn’t do it. What would I do with a baby? I’d just mess it all up.” Alexia cried miserably, bringing a hand to her face to wipe harshly at her eyes.

Olga’s hand caught hers, the brunette using her sleeve to wipe the blonde’s face much more gently. “That’s what you’re upset about? That you didn’t know how to help pequeña?” 

“When I used to get sick, Mami always knew what to do and how to help. It came so naturally to her, and it comes s0 naturally to you. It is not like that for me.” 

Before Olga could respond, your voice called out from the extra bedroom. 

“Ale?” you yelled hoarsely, and it was obvious that you were crying. 

Alexia was out of bed like a bullet, sprinting down the hall into the guest room where you were. 

“Nena? What is it?” She asked, hovering over you uncertainty. You were laying on your back, eyes squeezed shut, tears running down your cheeks. 

“It really hurts,” you sobbed.

 Alexia sighed shakily, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Your head?”

 “Yeah.” You replied.

“I am so sorry, pequeña. What can I do?” 

“I don’t know.” You whimpered, in too much pain to really be embarrassed about how pathetic you were acting. You were desperate for something, anything to make it stop hurting. Alexia could tell you were beginning to panic, the pain in your head becoming overwhelming. 

“Nena, look at me.” She instructed. You blinked your eyes open, doing as she asked. “Do you need to go to the hospital?” 

“No, this is how my migraines always feel,” you told her. Alexia nodded, filing this information away for later. 

“Okay. Take a few deep breaths for me, yes?” 

Again, you blindly followed her instructions, breathing in through your nose, and out through your mouth. After a few breaths, you opened your eyes again, and looked to your captain for further guidance. 

“How long do your migraines normally last?” 

You thought for a moment. “Not longer than a day.” 

“I think if you go back to sleep, you’ll feel better when you wake up then, right?” She clarified, trying to look at this logically when she knew you could not. 

“Yeah, probably.” You mumbled back, trying to relax yourself back into the bed. 

“Good. How can I make you more comfortable?” Alexia asked softly, pushing a strand of hair out of your face. 

You were quiet for a moment, looking cautiously at Alexia before you shook your head minutely. “I don’t know.” 

The blonde studied you for a moment. “Yes you do. Tell me.” 

“It’s stupid.” You argued back, refusing to make eye contact with her. 

“Tell. Me.” Alexia insisted, poking you twice in the stomach. You jerked away, giving her a dirty look. 

“Can you stay in here with me until I fall asleep?” You asked finally, because the thought of being alone right now was overwhelmingly horrible. 

Alexia softened. “Of course, nena. That’s not stupid.” She slid into the bed with you, wrapping a comforting arm around your shoulder, encouraging you to snuggle up to her. 

“It is stupid, I’m not a child, I'm an adult.” You grumbled, but you went practically limp against Alexia when she began to rub your back soothingly. 

“You might not be a child, but you’re still a kid. And needing someone to take care of you isn’t stupid.” Alexia insisted. 

“Okay.” You muttered, already half asleep. Alexia smiled to herself, glad that she could do one thing right, at least. It was only a few more minutes before you were properly passed out on top of your captain. Alexia settled in too, her eyes just beginning to slide shut when Olga gently pushed the door open, a completely adoring expression on her face at the sight in front of her. 

“No maternal instincts, huh?” She teased, moving to the other side of the bed to kiss her girlfriend goodnight. 

“Shut up.” Alexia replied gruffly, though it was impossible to miss the protective look on her face when she pulled you in closer, or the shy blush that lit up her cheeks when she looked back at Olga. 

“Goodnight, mi amor.” Olga whispered. Alexia returned the sentiment, watching Olga leave the room, her thoughts completely overrun with images of her and Olga, and their future. 

What was another kid to the one they already apparently had?

-----

soft but confused alexia :,)

haven’t finished flipped (ingrid x mapi x reader) but i did finish this so hope you enjoy ❤️🫶🏻

[not-my-final-account]

I’VE FALLEN DOWN THE RABIT HOLE OF DANNY PHANTOM AND NOW I CAN’T ESCAPE

Once the Justice League was losing. It was the end of the world. No seriously, the world was an hour away from being blown to bits.

-

Constantine sighed and rubbed his face, he had just ran out of cigarettes and it was making him more jumpy than was truely necessary in any given situation. Him and most of the bigger heros in the Justice League sat in a cave and were forced to wait out the apocalypse, well, the hour left of it anyways.

Constantine sighed and looked up to what you could see of the sky from inside their cave, he was almost… afraid. Afraid of what was going to happen, afraid that it had come to this, afraid that the rumours were true or even worse than they seemed, Pariah Dark was not known for caring nor his mercy.

Honestly Constantine was going to consider it lucky if he died and got to rest in peace, even more lucky if the world actually got saved! This was a last ditch effort.

Constantine grabbed a piece of chalk from his pocket, it was worn from years of carrying it around. He settled it on the flattest piece of stone he could find and started drawing the circle he had memorised. “John what are you doing?” Wonder Woman asked, he ignored her and took a deep breathe

“Oh dark king of the ghosts.” he prayed, there were truely only a few necessary words but Constantine felt like he needed to add a message, so he kept speaking as he drew the intricate patterns of the circle “My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please K I N G O F T H E G H O S T S.” Constantine begged, Wonder Woman and most of the others sat up or got more defensive, it truely said something that Batman didn’t bother.

-

Danny Phantom sat playing DOOM with Sam and Tucker, cheering when we got to a higher level. Suddenly something tugged at his core and a voice whispered through his ears

…oh dark king of the ghosts. My world may be of no importance to you, but I am willing to make a deal to save it. Please accept my summon, please be merciful, please save earth, please…

“-anny? Danny?” Sam asked “Hello?” she said in a sing song voice

“Still with us Danny?” Tucker asked, Danny swallowed,

“I- I’ve got to go.” he said

-

Constantine sat on his knees in front of the circle and… nothing happened, Superman glanced at him and started to sit back down when suddenly the stone inside the circle fell away into a green spiral.

Superman gasped and jumped back up

“Don’t attack him, bow.” Constantine instructed, reluctantly Superman and everyone else did, except for Batman of course, what’d you expect? Him to change? Just because the world was ending?

A pale hand reached up from the circle and grabbed the edge; whoever was in the circle pulled themself up slowly and as they came closer to the mortal realm Superman got a sense of dread, of death, of… something else, of authority, and everyone in the room seemed to find themselves bowing lower. Superman couldn’t help but think, had Constantine double-doomed the world?

-

Constantine looked up as the figure hovered above the circle, he was the first to move from his bow. This… wasn’t what Constantine expected Pariah Dark to look like, he was still imposing but didn’t fit the ghost kings reputation.

He had a cape as dark as the shadows with glowing constellations and stories sown into the fabric. He had a crown that burned with green fire and floated above his head, his eyes glowed the same green as the crown and his hand had a single ring. He wore royal looking clothes, white boots and gloves with a black shirt and pants.

This was the ghost king “Pariah Dark, King of Ghosts. I am Constantine-”

“Pariah Dark? I dethroned him years ago! I’m Danny Phantom.” the ghost king introduced.

“I meant no disrespect your highness.” Constantine quickly said

“I don’t- never mind. You asked for me to save earth?” King Phantom asked, Constantine gulped

“Y-yes, we can’t win, please, I- I’ll do anything.” he begged,

“A favour.” King Phantom said

“What?” Constantine asked

“A favour, I’ll save your world for a favour from you and your friends.” King Phantom said.

A favour to a ghost king who was probably very evil, that is so stupid and such a horrible idea, who in their right mind would-

“Deal.” Constantine agreed.

There was a flash of bright light and King Phantom disappeared, after a few seconds of him being gone the sounds of a battle echoed through the cave.

“Constantine what did you just rope us into?” Batman asked. Constantine really, really needed a cigarette.

-

Years ago, the world was ending. In a last ditch effort Constantine summoned… something. Superman didn’t know much about the ghost king that had appeared, just that he was powerful, and that the better half of the Justice League owed him a favour. It had been on everyone’s minds for a few months after that deal, waiting for the day they would be called for something horrific and hoping it wouldn’t ruin them or their morals. But truthfully, after a few years everyone sorta forgot about it; it was the type of thing no one remembered unless the subject at hand related to it, and even then you were uneasy for a day and forgot all over again.

So when a scroll appeared in a flash of green light during a meeting one day, Superman would like to say that the freaking out was justified.

Batman (who seemed to adopt everyone he met in one way or another) shushed the group of panicking superhero’s and picked up the scroll “I am calling in your favour, when you finish reading this you will all be teleported to my aid. Signed, Phantom.” Batman read. Oh no.

In another flash of green light they appeared in a park with a few heros who hadn’t even been in the room. Everyone immediately put up their defences and raised various weapons, then they realised the park was empty. Superman looked around using X-ray vision, he had no clue what was going on in the seemingly peaceful that could make a ghost king ask for help, then he looked through a hill and saw a giant green dog running with two kids gripping it’s lead.

As the dog jumped on top of then off the hill and ran in front of them Superman could make out the words in their screams

“Sit boy, sit!” the Batman looking one called

“I’M TOO YOUNG TO DIE! NO OFFENCE DANNNYYYY!!!” the one with devices falling out of his bag and pockets yelled.

Everyone lowered their weapons and Flash relaxed and scoffed

“This is what that ghost guy called us in for? This is going to be a breeze!” Flash said happily

“Don’t judge a book by its cover Flash.” Constantine warned. Superman was about to agree with flash when the ghost king suddenly appeared in the air in front of us, dripping in something green which looked alarmingly like blood- oh god the ghost king was dying!? Re-dying?!

“Forget I said anything,” Flash raised his hands in the air and got ignored as we rushed over to the ghost king who had fallen out of the air and onto the ground.

Before anyone could do anything though another person appeared out of thin air and then floated down

“Join me Daniel! Together we could rule the world!” he asked, okay that was an evil guy if Superman had ever seen one, he even had the looks to go with it, you could mistake him as Dracula … was that Dracula?

Suddenly another guy who looked like the ghost king body slammed Dracula from the air

“I WILL RULE THE WORLD AND ME ALONE!” as he stood up Superman noticed he looked just like the ghost king only older and more evil looking. As if the mention of look-a-likes summoned her, a small girl who also looked just like the ghost king only younger and female body slammed evil twin number 1.

“Not on my watch you fruitloop!” she yelled. Suddenly a woman in a track suit with ridiculous looking googles and carrying an oversized gun jumped down

“Get away you evil ghosts!” she yelled and fired some energy weapon at the small group, they all scattered and the four of them fought when some girl on a hover board swooped in and pointed her hand at the ghost king

“Danny Phantom! You and all of ghost kind will pay!!” she yelled, something on her wrist started glowing when

“GET AWAY FROM DANNY!” a school girl yelled. Her orange hair swung around as she discus threw her books and bag right into the girls face. They also ran off into the distance to fight.

“What?” Flash asked,

“When he said.” Green Lantern agreed.

“The Dracula looking one is Vlad, he’s a bad guy, so is my evil self from an alternate timeline, we call him Dan, Dani is the small girl who looks like me, that’s because she’s my clone, she’s on the good side but she might steal your stuff just because she can so be careful,” he took a wheezy breath “My sister Jazz is the one who hurled her books into the air to protect me, she’s good. The girl in the red suit is Red Huntress, she’s good she just doesn’t understand -same with my parents, the couple in the jumpsuits, their ghost hunters.” the ghost king explained

“Wait, your parents are ghost hunters?” Flash asked

“Yeah?” the ghost king asked- oh I see.

“But you’re a ghost?” Flash said

“I’m technically a halfa actually, but trust me I know. It’s all ‘we’re going to tear apart the ghost boy molecule by molecule’ and never ‘is the ghost boy good or bad’.” the ghost king groaned, I reached out to help “I’ll be fine go fight or help!” he said

[nouvxllev]

CLINGYGRUMPYJENNA X READER!!

plsplsplsplspls

Summary: Co-workers in public, lovers in private 🙌🏼, while shooting for Wednesday, J gets really stressed, and craves for R's intimacy, but can't have that yet until break of dawn, so J basically gets sooo annoyed with anyone who tries talking to her that isn't R.

the waiting game

Pairing: Jenna Ortega x Gn!Reader

Summary: request!! ^^

Words: 4.8k

Warnings: fluf, grumpy & clingy jenna!

a/n: caught basically the nastiest cold for a whole week, but im back! sorry requests taking too long, tryna to balance everything rn but it all will be done soon!!!!

masterlist.

Jenna hasn’t seen you in almost 4 hours, 36 minutes, and 4 fucking seconds. 

Yes, she counted, yes, it’s still ongoing, and, yes, she could almost murder someone with her bare hands if time even dares to pass by without you.

What makes matters worse is that she's terribly sleep-deprived even with someone's arms wrapped around her night after night.

Of course, the aforementioned someone swirling in her head 24/7 is you. Her not-quite-lover in public but entirely her beloved behind closed doors.

If Jenna had it her way, she would’ve jumped off a building by now and hard-launched the both of you by herself just so she could get hugs, kisses, and your hand intertwined with hers all she wanted.

Obviously, the universe decides to be a stuck-up bitch just now in their 14 billion years of life, wanting nothing more than to see Jenna Marie Ortega suffer without having you.

But it's fine.

She could get through this.

If there's someone in the world that could handle a single day without your warm hugs and lovely kisses, whether it be on the cheek or the lips, it would be her. She didn't endure almost half a year seeing that godforsaken Wednesday dance to go completely insane without you.

— Is what she kept telling herself 30 seconds earlier before she broke down and almost turned to witchcraft if you don't appear in front of right her.

She could push through with it, like she always does. It's a simple routine that never got the best of her.

Wake up and have breakfast with the love of your life while prepping each other with kisses and whatnot, run to set for the both of you to act out a scene for a while, when break hits all Jenna has to do is intertwine her pinky with yours under the table, then do hair and makeup after, act out a scene then wrap it all up, lie to everyone for the 100th time that her house is just a few steps away from yours, hit a bakery on the way home or maybe an ice cream shop if Jenna feels peckish, break down the apartment door Jenna shares with you, run to the bedroom, and smother each other with kisses and cuddles. Maybe a makeout session if Jenna's lucky.

It's bliss then repeat.

But today just so happens to be the day that Jenna takes over the whole episode, doing stunts and everything with little to no cuts for side characters.

She'd think that you would have nothing to do than act out your scenes—with her—might she add and it'll be all fine and the nights she'd spent waking up at 3 in the morning would be all's well.

But no, unfortunately you were the epitome of the perfect person and everyone just has to drag you around to who knows where to deal with some difficulties.

Plus, the both of you woke up late so she didn't even get the full girlfriend treatment she always got in the morning.

It was completely unfair!

Jenna was tired, grumpy, a bit too snappy, desperate for your attention, and she misses you. Alot.

And by that she means she misses the way you would wrap your arms around her after a busy day of filming together, pull her close, and feel the way how her lips fits perfectly on yours.

She would've dragged you back to bed and cuddle with you if she knew what was about to happen. Every second not spent with you is absolutely meaningless in her book.

Unfortunately, she has to play the waiting game.

She's fucking losing it.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was 11 PM on a Thursday night.

Jenna is really so fucking tired, she could almost snap.

She had almost endured five to six hours of you nowhere even near her. The most she even interacted with you on set was when the both of you were acting a scene then abruptly got cut because of technical difficulties.

Plus, everyone but you was talking to her as if she was some kind of star! (she is.)

Jenna almost wished for an accident, or maybe a wardrobe malfunction that leads her to discovering some sort of new allergy about herself, just so she could be rushed off to the hospital and have you fussing over her, then maybe you could hold her hand and kiss her as if she would heal.

"How's it going, Ree—"

"Literally, I mean this in the nicest way possible, shut the fuck up Georgie."

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes wide open as he steps back in surrender with his hands up in the air. "Ooooohkay!"

The brunette's head shot up immediately, her eyes burning and her shoulders slumped as she sank further into her chair for what felt like the millionth time.

"I... I didn't mean that, I'm so sorry." She closed her eyes shut, rubbing her temples, "I'm doing fine." She reassured herself more than anyone else, gripping the armchair for support.

"Biggest lie ever."

"You caught in Jenna's crossfire too, Emma?

"Oh damn, even Moosa?"

As if on cue, the whole cast decides to join in the damn conversation. Jenna loved them all, really, but it would've been so much better if a certain someone also joined and not far off into the distance talking to one of the editors.

Come on, would it literally kill you to question yourself why half of the cast was surrounding practically the love of your life while you're standing like 10 feet away!?

"You seem tense, J."

"Something wrong?"

"You've been staring at us for an hour with that Kubrick Stare of yours."

Who's exactly talking to her? Georgie, Emma, Moosa, it's all in that order but their voices seemed deranged, and it couldn't be any more worse when she's been trying to catch your eye for what seemed like the past hour.

She couldn't take shit when she's horribly missing you. So, she bites, and raises her voice more than she should, "Should I close my eyes to spare you the terrible fucking horror? Fuck, man!"

Jenna let an exasperated sigh escape from her mouth as she rose to her feet, eyeing the group with probably the most intense stare someone could bear witness to. She half-expected she'd get another pain-in-the-ass comeback from atleast one of them, but she was met with unusual silence.

The three look practically horrified, as if they were seeing the fictional idea of Wednesday Addams in the form of a 5'1, 22 year old woman dressed as her. Like they have the small but terrible quote running gears in their heads.

She heard them in unison muttering quiet apologies, "Sorry, Jenna…"

Her mind told her to forgive them for whatever they did, but her heart told her y/n.

"No, no it's fine." The brunette shook her head, her words forming icicles on each synonym and her eyes were like seeing inside of a storm. Without the peaceful atmosphere of an eye, clearly. "I'm just... stressed. Is Y/n free?"

Emma tilted her head to the side, "Actually, I never really saw them that much today, no?" She exchanged glances with the both of them.

"Heard they're busy with the tech team," Georgie crossed his arms, "Even for an actor, they've got a skill to be a director with how familiar they are behind the scenes."

Moosa nodded in agreement, "Yeah, they've been pretty tied up with all the technical stuff lately. Must be exhausting."

For fuck sakes, why did you have to be the most perfect and talented goddamn person?

"Why you looking for them?"

Jenna definitely did not need another goddamn voice entering her goddamn space.

She could almost roll her eyes and flip everybody off if not for Joy and the others being the most precious co-stars of them all.

"Because!" Jenna exclaimed, her voice cracking while lifting her arms in the air, "Y/n's my fucking lov...-"

Oh, shit.

"Lov...?"

"...Lovely neighbor." She blinked. "They... They bake me some cookies whenever I get in a bad mood."

Oh to fucking hell with this lovers in private bullshit. Lovely neighbor, that was the best damn excuse she could come up with?

"Well, heard they went home early because of an emergency, but it's kinda pouring out—"

It was in Jenna and Jenna alone on how insanely and horrifyingly fast she bolted out of the conversation, quickly changed clothes, thanking to the literal heavens (fuck the universe, Jenna will die on this hill) that Tim wrapped up early.

Josh. Josh was always the one you manage to bring up to be one of the most carefree guys in set, it's certain that he knew wherever the fuck you went. Actually, you always looked so happy whenever you talked to her about Josh and how much he lends with whatever left over set pieces they had, it's almost insane that you were—

"Aliyah, I'd tell you to shut up and fuck off as of this moment but I am literally too tired to even say that, what!?"

"Jenna, where the hell is your hoodie you wore on Christmas Eve!? I literally told you like an hour before your half-assed reply to tell me where'd you put your clothes."

Of course her sisters, more specifically Aliyah Goddamn Ortega, would find the most perfect timing to call her about the stupidest shit there could ever be.

"Okay, now, fuck off."

Jenna grimaced through gritted teeth as she hung up. She loved her sister, but does she love you more? Absolutely.

"Josh!" She called out, running towards him, "Sorry, kind of abrupt, but do you know where Y/n went?" Atleast she had some decency left in her to be polite to some.

"Actually—"

"Let one more word come out of your mouth not related to my question, and I swear, Josh—"

"Y/n left early, they told me to tell you but I guess I forgot."

Maybe a little too carefree.

"You fucking guess!?— I mean, yes, thank you. I’ll be going."

Oh, the waiting game is a pain in the ass.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You pace back and forth in Jenna's apartment, your socks making a dent in the fuzzy carpet in the living room Jenna bought when you moved in with her, a nail in between your teeth and rain pouring in the background.

How in the hell did you forget possibly all your devices on fucking set!?

Your phone was dead, and your laptop was unfortunately abandoned by its owner (yours truly) and you have no way of contacting your lovely girlfriend.

And worse of all, it was a little over midnight.

All this because you got a notification that someone was at the door for an hour.

And it was just a fucking cat. (To be fair, they were really cute.)

You were starting to worry, especially how it was pouring outside like there was a hurricane incoming and how you left early without Jenna intertwining her warm and soft hands around yours.

So not only did you leave all your devices behind, but you also left Jenna without any means of contacting you.

You almost cursed yourself, maybe even doing the most stupidest and financially unstable decision of ordering a new phone as if it was going to be delivered same day.

Until you heard a slight click and a door opening.

There were times thunder struck, but it definitely did not beat the way your heart almost leaps into your throat as you hear the door opening.

You pause in your steps, a deep breath stuck in your mouth as you cross the living room and peer through the door way.

The door swung open and you're met with the, one of the most gorgeous and relieving sights you may add, of Jenna standing there. Slightly damp and with an... angry? Expression on her face.

"Jenna!" You blurted out, rushing over to her and enveloping her in a tight hug. "Did Josh fill you in? I feel terrible for getting home early, I'm so sorry. There was this whole thing I had to deal with, then the rain came pouring down, and I thought I'd at least get you a cab—"

"Shh. Just stay still. And preferably quiet."

When she's in your arms, she melts in the warmth of the comfort you bring to her. "Guess you caught the cab." You whisper under your breath.

You notice her breathing slowing down, the tension in her body easing away, a gentle smile playing on her lips as she buries her head in your neck. A sway the both of you took upon as she tugged at your chest with her hands wrapped around your body.

Jenna felt and smelled like home. Maybe heaven really is real if you're back in her arms after death.

"Is everything okay? Did something go down on set while I was away? Oh, Jenna, I'm so—" You start to pull back, placing your hands on her shoulders.

"Y/n, push me away, I fucking dare you, I'll bring down hell upon this godforsaken world."

You hesitate, but her gaze wants nothing more than to be in your arms. Who were you to deny her?

With a gentle squeeze of her shoulders, you pull her back into your arms. You weren't much taller than Jenna, in fact, just an inch or two apart. You loved that about eachother, like the two of you were a perfect fit.

Minutes pass, the only sound of the soft rhythm of Jenna's breathing and your heartbeat became a melody to your ears.

"I'm gonna hard launch the both of us right fucking now."

Well, that definitely caught you off-guard.

"Something happened?"

"You weren't on set for like hours! And everyones got too damn annoying for my ears to even process so I was trying to look for you, but then I ended up insulting Emma and the others, then I called you my lovely neighbor because I almost ended up saying you're my lover so I had to cover for it!"

"...That's quite a handful. I'm sorry I wasn't there, baby."

Even so, you knew that Jenna wasn't ready for a public relationship, not now that everyone was currently holding her at a social and cyber gunpoint with her life.

And even back then, you were the first one in the relationship who told her that the both of you would be better off if they both kept it private.

Even from their friends... And maybe more so families. Or maybe Jenna's. It's pretty hard to keep secrets from her family.

Obviously, look how that turned out.

Finally, Jenna murmurs something. "Sorry. It's been a rough day." Then she adds, almost as an afterthought, "Just without you."

You could almost kill yourself of the mere thought of even having to leaving Jenna the whole day.

"I—"

"Don't worry, I know you were busy with tech."

"Yeah. They got me wrapped up in their troubles, but 's all fine."

"Ever thought beating the complete shit out of them?"

"Jenna, you can't just say that!"

"But they've been literally hogging you from me! And I think that's completely unfair!"

"But you really shouldn't. You'd probably end up getting destroyed, especially with your height."

"Oh, but I definitely should. Besides, we're the same height, Y/n."

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "Okay, you know what, tempting as it sounds, I don't think violence is the answer."

She scoffs another time, a crease in her forehead. "Well, it's definitely an option worth considering."

After a moment of silence, you carry her to the living room, her legs dangling as you lift her from her feet and settle her onto the soft-cushioned couch.

You start to pull away once you set her down, stretching your body after a tense day, yet a certain someone was making grabby hands for you while shooting a look with her eyes begging you to stay.

"Y/n, don't you want to stay here with me?" She pulls you closer, locking her legs around yours.

Oh, Jenna knows damn well you couldn't resist her.

"Jenna, just relax," you gently tug her legs apart with your own, letting them fall as she permits, "I'll just get you some water."

She tugs at the hem of your shirt, "Then I'll come with!" Her smile almost comes back alive and she's already clinging onto your arm.

"Jenna. The love of my life."

"Y/n?"

"You're tired, stressed, snappy, grum—"

"Okay, I am not grumpy or snappy!" Jenna bites back almost immediately. "Why does everybody keep saying that?"

You shoot her a look. A yup-thats-why-look, and it's enough to get a pout to form on her lips.

"Grumpy, and you're still damp from the rain. I wouldn't be surprised if you wake up with a cold in the morning." You gently pat her head before sitting her back down. "I'll be quick, alright? You know I'm not going far just for a glass of water."

"Fine," Jenna huffs, "But you better hurry back! Ten seconds, tops!"

With a smile playing on your lips, you roll your eyes before making your way to the kitchen. And of course, Jenna's gaze from the couch was following you. You know patience was never Jenna's strong suit when it comes with you.

It wasn't even a few seconds before you heard,

"Y/nnnn!" Jenna's voice calls out from the living room, almost sounding like a groan and a whine.

It's almost amusing how someone as seemingly nonchalant yet sweet as Jenna could also be this puddle of affection and clinginess when it came to you.

You chuckle to yourself before quickly making your way back to her, holding out the glass of water for her.

"That was well over ten seconds." Jenna remarks, downing the water in one go before setting the glass on the coffee table. Then, she pulls you back towards her, and before you know it, you're both collapsing onto the couch.

"Well, I thought I did great." You say before Jenna tackles you into a very tight hug.

Leaning back against the cushions, you let out a sigh, feeling the everything slowly melting away when she's in your arms. Jenna inches closer, resting her head on your chest as you wrap an arm around her, holding her close.

"Hug me tighter, y/n." She murmurs softly, almost demanding if she didn't have a soft melody to her voice, her body warm against yours and her breathing seemed to be in sync with your own.

"You'll die if I do." You sigh contentedly.

Jenna lets out a huff, her breath warm against your skin and her scent was all too comforting. That earthy rain smell and her aromatic fragrance. "You know that I don't mind," she replies, "Of course you'd think I'd care if I died in your arms."

You laugh, shaking your head. "You're impossible, Jenna." You shake your head once against, ruffling her hair as you give her an extra squeeze before loosening your hold slightly to let her breathe.

"You want dinner?" You whisper to her after, not even above a decibel just for her to relax. "I didn't get the chance to stop by at the bakery."

"Please," comes Jenna's response.

You know what a full-on smile with dimples from her sounds and feels like when she has that hopeful and happy tune to her otherwise grumpy voice today.

You slowly pull yourself back up, gently pushing Jenna off your chest. And also unknowingly pulling a koala trapped in a 5'1, 22 year old body named Jenna Ortega clinging onto your back.

"Jenna."

She buries her head into the crook of your neck, eyes half-lidded. "Mmm… Yeah?" It's honestly surprising how she can actually and literally attach herself to you.

"Jenna, you have to let go so I can cook." Even as you ask her to release herself, you adjust to her weight on your back, carefully making your way to the kitchen, your hands securely holding onto her legs.

"You can cook just fine, Y/n," she whines, "You have two arms."

"And you," you reply, gently patting her legs, "have two legs and two arms. I can't cook with you piggybacking, baby."

You can tell the nickname made her smile. "Yeah, but I don't have a built-in Y/n in my system that I can cuddle with all day. So please just let me be."

"No, Jenna—You're gonna get hurt."

You reach the kitchen and gently lower Jenna from her back, setting her down on the kitchen island.

Her arms still lingered around your neck for a moment before she reluctantly, and against her will so it seems, lets go. "You know how frantic I am when I cook."

"Then maybe, you're not a good cook."

"I'm trying to keep my girlfriends, which is you, may I add, life out of harms way."

"Maybe that's the reason why you're not a good cook."

"Jenna."

Grabby hands, once again, making a return and tugging you by your shirt collar. But this time, you resist.

"Whyyyyyyy?" she whines, her bottom lip jutting out in a Jenna Ortega fashionable pout. "Do you hate me, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes playfully before booping her on the tip of her nose. "I'm cooking you a meal to show that I love you, baby." You pull back yourself and put on an apron standing off side to the fridge, Jenna's gaze could almost burn holes into the fabric.

"Okay." She sighs, dropping her head down. "Okay, fine! Can I just hold your hand?" She looks up to see you standing in front of her, wearing the cutest apron with the well-known kiss the chef quote.

A faint blush spreads across her freckled face, and you couldn't help but smile at her.

You can't really cook with one hand that properly. But if Jenna wants you to cook for her even if you had your hands surgically removed from your body, then so fucking be it. A few missing limbs can't top a few smiles from your girlfriend.

"Alright, baby." You place take her hand and lead her to the stove where it seemed like you've got everything prepared. "Just get behind me when there's oil splashing, mkay?"

A few minutes pass by with Jenna's hand in yours while you cook. Her head leans against your shoulder as she stands close.

Between the two of you, Jenna was always the one who takes over the cooking part of the relationship, no matter how much you insist cooking for her. But you're grateful and very fortunate now that she's allowing you to take over. Plus, Jenna keeps you entertained with her witty remarks and random stuff about her day.

Oh, what a life you're living in.

"You didn't cook for yourself?" Jenna's voice interrupts your thoughts as you plate a serving of salmon topped with herbs, accompanied by sliced lemon and a few kiwis. With the skin left on, of course, just how she likes it. Only for your loving girlfriend.

You shake your head, taking her hand and her plate in the other, leading her to the dining table. "I'm good. I had a late lunch earlier," you reply, gently placing the plate on the table and sitting her down. "Besides, it's not often I get to cook for you. It wouldn't be as special if I cooked for myself too."

Jenna's eyes almost appear teary as she looks at you. "Please never show yourself again in public. I seriously cannot lose you." She replied almost immediately.

If you didn't miss it, you would've seen the adoration and love shining in Jenna's gaze. It's as if she wants to ditch the meal entirely and cover your face with kisses.

You swear you probably ate a seed in your chest by how you kept feeling warmth bloom in your heart at her. "How can I do that if I'm an actor?" You chuckle, "They'd probably question you first if I disappear."

Jenna takes her fork and points it at you, slicing a piece of salmon with her spoon. "Hey, I've seen the tweets about people practically drooling over you. It's like they're your lover and not mine!"

You crease your forehead, crossing your arms, "You get more thirst tweets more than I do!"

"And I believe you contribute to that percentage." She raises one eyebrow, smirking at your direction before chewing on another piece of salmon. It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

A factual one at that.

You almost choke at your own words. "Oh, you know me so well."

A sigh escapes your lips, your smile still in place. "Besides, we're not exactly public, are we?" Leaning in, you draw Jenna into your own little world. "You're the only one who gets the real me. If I leave, I'll cross my heart on my own and I'll die on my own."

Jenna looks at you while taking a bite of her salmon, chewing slowly as if she's contemplating something, a tug in her lips. "Mn, guess so."

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You'd think you'd get some work done, maybe memorize future scripts or send out some emails to directors asking if you could audition for a show at one in the morning.

Instead, you're lying in bed with Jenna.

Or maybe a koala in this case.

In bed. Blankets over the both of you. Pillow's a bit too comfy to even think about getting up. Plus, the koala in question may or may not have hidden your phone and charger.

Jenna wasn't always a light sleeper. Sometimes, you'd wake up in the middle of the night to find her sitting up with a blanket draped over her entire body, furiously typing away in her notes app. It's endearing, but also makes you wonder if she's ever dabbled in witchcraft.

Now, she's wide awake to even be one.

Her eyes closed and her breathing steady enough to lull you asleep. The atmosphere is cozy, and so is your girlfriend laying atop of you.

Her arms were wrapped around yours for the millionth time while her head rests on her favorite part of your chest, her head staring off to the side as if she's trying to hear your heartbeat.

You thought she'd be passed out after dinner, but she dragged you by the cuffs of your hoodie and lead you to the bedroom.

"Jenna," you whisper not above even the slightest decibel, "I have work to do." The gentle rise and fall of her chest steadies in sync with yours, her head tilting slightly in the other way, and the grip she has on your body suddenly got tighter. It's already as if you'll fly away from her.

She huffs as she raises her head to face yours. "Your work—whatever that is—can wait, but I can’t." The room is dim, too dim, yet you could see the slight dip in her bottom lip.

You know you should focus, but with her so close, it's hard to think about anything else other than, 'Nah, fuck it. I'll live.'

You bring your hands up to cup her cheeks, gently brushing her messy fringe away from her face. Even in this dim light, you could see her freckles scattered across her face like vines making something so abandoned a painting.

Jenna sighs when she looks at you. "Y/n, how long are you gonna keep me playing the waiting game?"

"The waiting game? What even is that—"

"Can you kiss me?"

Oh. Her eyes become almost second nature to her words.

"Because I remember being woken up to the most gorgeous person ever but they didn't give me kisses, and I think—mpmhmmh..."

It took all your effort not to pull her into a kiss.

Obviously, your efforts were in vain.

Truth be told, you miss the way her lips hung on yours, she was perfect in every way. How her arms would wrap around you, how she'd reach up to tug on your jawline, tracing every thing you had offered her, how you would push back only for her to pull you closer.

The kiss soon ended with you and Jenna locking eyes. No words exchanged but the heavy breath the both of you took apart from eachother.

"—I think I might die..." Her words are breathless, her arms perfectly secured around your neck as you sit up.

You smile at her. "Well, I kept you alive, didn't I?"

"No," she breathes, taking hold of your cheeks before sitting up herself. "No, I'm still six feet underground if you don't continue what you were doing."

"You know, I'm starting to like the waiting game."

"Make me play that shit again, it'll be the last time you'll ever make a decision."

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jennaortega

Liked by ememyers and 1,398,938 others jennaortega goodnight to my gorgeous gorgeous girl @.y/l/n x 6 hours ago

natalieortega1: My fav girls!

joysunday: what lovely neighbors we have here

ememyers: !?@#%%#?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

user: WE FUCKING KNEW IT

moosa_mostafa_: we never knew....

user: MY??????? MY???????? WHAT MY WHY MY?????????????????????

user: now how long....

georgieebleu: the coolest ever

user: WHATS IT FINNA PLAY??????

naomijogawa: two losers having a loser rs

user: having a heart attack holYHIST WHAT HT FUCK

user: literally stop.

hunterdoohan: Respect!!!!

user: shit so insane she got the whole cast to comment

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In short, Jenna won. Plus, she got all the kisses and cuddles she wanted until the alarm hit. (When it did, your name was surprisingly all over social media along with Jenna.)

[mnnuni]

Marked

Summary: (Y/N)'s relationship with Buck and Eddie is discovered.

Words:

Warnings: smut

Buck and Eddie's relationship was still kinda a secret for the public eye; well kinda because they weren't sure of sharing it yet but they weren't subtle at all with those shared looks and hidden touches. The 118 all knew about them, they were only waiting for them to have the courage to tell them.

The crew of firefighters was so proud of themselves for figuring it out: Hen brought it up one night when they were hanging out at Athena and Bobby's house and the two men conveniently left early together.

"I name it, they're totally involved" Chimney was a little confused, "what do you mean? Of course they are, they're best friends"

Athena smacked him around the head "What Hen means is...", she was thinking of a way of saying it nicely "they get each other steam off" finished Bobby. Hen and Athena nodded, the five different expressions that passed through Chimney's face were hilarious to Maddie "I can't believe you didn't notice".

What they all also didn't notice was that that night there was another person absent: their girlfriend, (Y/N).

She was way more private than them at the station, because she saw how Eddie and Buck acted around each other and let's just say even a blind could catch that they were in love; that's why she was never too close to them to be suspected. When Hen asked her about her romantic life she said "they" and "them", but everyone just assumed it was just a person who would go by these pronouns not that there were actually two people.

(Y/N) also knew that her boyfriends had their fair shares of problems with their closets and she surely wouldn't be the one to out them to their family.

The only 118 member who knew was Ravi. Poor kid caught them exiting the same room, still adjusting their uniform. From that moment (Y/N) avoided every contact with them at work and got closer to Ravi too. He was her true best friend.

"so... what are you doing for them tonight?" Ravi asked her while they were cooking for the team, "huh?" (Y/N) said looking at him from the oven; Ravi looked around, making sure no one was watching them and whispered "you know... today's your anniversary, didn't you do something?"

(Y/N) smiled. Today her, Buck and Eddie were celebrating six months officially together. "I can't believe you remembered" she hugged him tight "of course i did, how could i forget?"

It was funny how Buck was flaring his nostrils at the sign of (Y/N) talking with Ravi while he had his hands on her waist. Eddie had to put his hand on his knee, "you know they're only friends" "still..." he rolled his eyes. (Y/N) was actually describing him the details of the dinner she had planned that night; she was so ecxited to finally go out in public with them. Ravi was really happy for her, so happy that at the end of the shift he went to Buck and Eddie and told them to be careful "she really loves you, both of you, don't screw up tonight"

He knew he only made their nerves worse, but he had to because (Y/N) really deserved the world and he knew those two idiots would give her everything she needed. He was still her best friends tough, it was his job to scare her boyfriends.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

(Y/N) only texted them the address. "Dress fancy" the sole indication.

Evan stomach was a mess. Eddie was literally sweating. They decided to get ready together; that didn't help them one bit because after getting nearly late for a too long shower together, they were second-guessing everything.

Their anxiety seemed to stop only when they spotted (Y/N) at the bar in the restaurant. She was wearing a long strapless black dress, her hair were down and naturally curled and her lips were tinted red. Buck had to touch Eddie's hand to make sure he wasn't imagining that wonderful woman in front of them. It was the first time Eddie took his hand in his in a so crowded place and just by this (Y/N) knew this would have been a magical night.

They were seated in a corner in the garden, the table was so small that (Y/N)'s legs touched both Eddie and Buck's ones. It was just how she pictured it would be: the light lights illuminated Buck's freackles ever so gently, the roses'perfume made Eddie scrunch his nose in a way that made (Y/N) want to kiss him everytime and the night breeze was a perfect excuse for them to touch her arms or shoulders constantly because of the fact she was withouth a jacket. And it was even better to see Evan and Eddie actually be confortable to act like a couple all together.

Ravi's words really helped.

When Evan put his coat over (Y/N)'s shoulder as she whispered to them "maybe you should come to mine's for dessert", Eddie's eyes sparkled and Buck's hand on her tightned.

Evan didn't drive so fast even in the truck. The air was filled with anticipation but (Y/N) had decided that because this was a special night it would go slow and good. As a matter of fact, when they entered her flat she really had a dessert ready for them and she took it out of the oven swinging her hips ever so slightly.

"Uhm baby, we thought ehm..." Buck looked at Eddie for support while (Y/N) took three forkes "we hoped for another type of cake" the other man finished. (Y/N) chuckled "don't worry my loves, this cake just needs time" she winked and took a bite of the chocolate pastry; she really knew how to turn on her boys.

"Now, eat. I'll come back in five" with that she went to her bedroom and locked the door. Buck and Eddie could only listen to her and wait. They were under the impression she took more than five minutes because when she came back they finished half the cake and were now kissing on the couch, Eddie said he missed Buck's lips and he surely couldn't deny them to him. They already took off their jacket and were starting to unbutton their shirt when (Y/N) cleared her throat and they departed from each other; she was wearing a silky robe and a devious grin on her face. (Y/N) didn't say anything, only took their hands and guided them in the bedroom.

"Because you were so good tonight accepting to go out with me, I want to make it up to you" and with that she took a rope from the pocket of the robe. The guys were having the time of their lives while she tied them to the headboard, she put them in a way they could touch each other's hands, like a way to compensate the fact they couldn't touch her. When she was done (Y/N) finally took off her robe.

"Holy shit" Buck breathed out.

She was wearing a red lace bodysuit and garters and with only this sight Eddie and Evan tried to untie themselves. "I'm a firefighter baby, don't even try", Buck's cock twitched in his boxers. (Y/N) got them naked painfully slow and Eddie started to complain; that's why she started working on Evan first.

She kissed him softly on the lips and got down from the neck to the waist licking him, his breath became heavier when she stopped, eyes on his tip. She kissed it too and then put it in her mouth.

"Oh God". Evan really liked when she worked her magic on him this slowly; Eddie next to him could only focus on her ass and be satisfied but when her hand touched his leg and started going near his balls he grunted. (Y/N) smirked on Evan's cock and he pushed his hips up. She was bobbing her head up and down faster and stroking Eddie's dick too, so fast they were both moaning.

"I-I'm cuming" Evan was practically a mess.

"Come on big boy, you're doing so good"

Hearing Eddie praise him was the last straw; Evan came so hard it made (Y/N) even wetter. When she was done sucking all his cum (Y/N) got up "you're soo good baby" she caressed Buck's cheeck and turned to Eddie "want a taste?", he nodded excited. Buck was trying to catch his breath while (Y/N) straddled Eddie's lap to kiss him. She tasted of Buck. (Y/N) lowered herself on him and Eddie moaned in the kiss at the feeling of his girlfriend pussy on him.

"It's your turn to fell good now honey"

(Y/N) unzipped her bodysuit at a slow pace and while she cupped one of her breast for show, she finished getting undressed. Buck was quickly recovering already.

She lowered her body on Eddie and started grinding her hips to lube his cock with her wetness; when she picked his dick in her hand and came down on it Eddie almost cried out loud. Usually Buck was the loudest, maybe she teased him too much this time. (Y/N) didn't complain tough, hearing her boyfriends moan only added fuel to the fire. Now she was breathing heavily too and really needed their hands on her body, so she leaned over and untied them.

Eddie didn't waste a second and flipped them over to start thrusting into her, "You feel so good mi amor".

(Y/N) tightened her legs to his hips as Buck got in between them to touch her clit. Now (Y/N) was the loudest; she tried to be quite but the stimulation was just too much that she gripped both her boyfriends' shoulder and scratched them. This only made them move faster.

"Come on baby, be a good girl for us"

She whined their names.

"So fucking tight hermosa"

Buck was sucking on her tit while he pinched her clit and made her scream.

It was the best orgasm she ever had, because when she came down her high she felt Eddie's cum on her stomach and it was so fucking hot.

When they got her all cleaned up and ready for sleep -after other two rounds-, (Y/N) told them how grateful she was to have them loving her and kissed them goodnight and Buck and Eddie felt the luckiest guys in the whole world.

-------------------------------------------------------

The next day (Y/N) was the happiest she ever was in at least two weeks (Buck cooked breakfast for her and Eddie made her bag for her) and all the station noticed. Also because she wasn't complaining about anything after one of the most tiring calls of all day;

They were changing in the locker room and Ravi approached her "I'm guessing it went well", she smiled only thinking about it "marvellous" (Y/N) answer.

"What went so good?" asked Hen as she got near them too, "little (Y/N) here had a date"

One of these days she would kill Ravi

"Oh you didn't go out in a while..." intruded Chimney, 'cause of course he would be there too.

"Yeah, that's because it was a special night" she was lost in her locker when Hen spoke again.

"They had a special night too"

"damn"

The confusion on (Y/N)'s face soon washed over when she turned around and understood what they were talking about: at the other side of the room Buck and Eddie were changing their shirt and were unconsciously showing off some big scratches on their back. (Y/N)'s scratches from last night. They were so red and so much; how couldn't they notice?

Then it hit her: they were practically identical, everyone would have known they were from the same person.

At this point every bit of dignity already left (Y/N)'s body when she run off to them.

"put a shirt on, now." She hissed.

Buck was so confused...then he looked at Eddie

"hooly shit". He was fast to cover himself up and Eddie followed him even if he didn't understand yet.

"i May or May not have left some...marks" she tried to say it in the gentlest of ways but the damage was already done.

All of their team was watching them.

-------------------------------------------------------

Ravi thought dinner would have been awkward; he was absolutely fucking right.

Buck, Eddie and (Y/N) were avoiding eye contact with everyone. Hen was waiting for an explanation with a smirk on her lips. Bobby was searching words for a reassuring speech after the inevitable talk, and Chimney was so fucking confused that at some point he bursted "Can somebody talk about it, please?"

(Y/N) looked at Eddie and Buck for permission, if they weren't ready she would have had come up with a lie without questions. They deserved to be out when they felt like it.

But Eddie took Buck's hand in his and started talking "we're together."

Evan felt a rock being left off his stomach, so he then took (Y/N)'s hand and continued "all three of us".

She only smiled at them.

There was a minute of silence when they thought they had made a big mistake, and everything was starting to crumble. But again, Hen spoke "fucking finally"

"Y-you knew?" (Y/N) had to start draw circles on Buck's hand.

"Of you and Eddie? Of course! (Y/N) is... A pleasant surprise" she blushed at this.

"so...you're okay with this?" Eddie was the one to ask the question they feared the most. It was obvious to (Y/N) that the 118 wouldn't have said anything but for two newly queer men... She understood the uncertainty.

"Why wouldn't we?" Chimney answered

"Yeah, you're all happy, that's what matters to us" Bobby finished.

There was another moment of silence after, where everyone was accommodating to the news.

Ravi saw the perfect opportunity to say what he wanted to say for months now: "I knew it first!"

[whereserpentswalk]

Every starship always has a few ice people on board. It's just standard safety protocol. The minimum number is three, one ice person for defense, one ice person for repairs, and one ice person for medical.

Ice people are people who are put into suspended animation for the duration of a trip, only to be taken out in emergencies. They're useful because a ship won't have to deal with another passenger just for something that won't useally happen. It also makes it so that the ice person is the least likely to be harmed in emergencies. They used to use robots for these sorts of things but now that the robots have unionized biological life is cheaper for that kind of labor.

It's a pretty nice job. Nine times out of ten it's falling asleep and waking up a few months later. Doing it once or twice can pay off your college debts pretty quickly. Compared to the other jobs you'll get with that kind of skillset it's a pretty good deal. Most medical students are encouraged to take it as their first job to pay off their student loans.

Of course, there is a weirdness to it, not existing for such a long time. Even a few months will make the way things change weird. You'll come back to your home planet and things will be diffrent. A freind will have gotten married. A child that you're used to being a baby will be a toddler. Someone will have moved away. It's not all bad, hype for movies or video games, arguments that need time to calm down, skipping out on a bad time in politics. But still, it always makes you a bit separate from everything else.

Of course, there is always the fear suspended animation won't work as intended, and your mind will be trapped dreaming, or worse, conscious, during the entire affair. Perhaps things will that lurk in hyperspace will begin to speak to you. Or worse you'll just be alone, with nothing but your thoughts, and no way to cry out.

But that's not the worst of it, at least not for most people. For most people it's the much more mundane reality of needing to be an ice person for more than just one or two trips. You'll fall asleep and wake up months later, ten, twenty, fifty, a hundred times. And you'll find yourself only seeing the world through snapshots, really only having your other ice people to relate to. You'll be from a diffrent time as everyone the same age as you. It's better pay then any alternative, but there is a greater cost. Soon enough you'll be walking through your homeworld and it'll be alien to you, decades in the future from what you were raised to be in, you'll be wearing a diffrent eras clothing, speaking in a dead dialect, like a ghost from the past.

There was a young engineer who recently returned from being an ice person. Poor thing, she was sent out on an ambassador ship to an alien system thinking it would be about six months, but it turned out she was gone for decades as a war between that ship's nation and the alien homeworld broke out. When she came back all three of her spouses had died of old age, and her son who was an infant when she left was older than her when she returned, and her grandchildren she had never met were her peers.

[crescenthistory]

heyyyy I’m just so in love with how you write Barty so I wanted to do two request if that’s okay! B6 and D8 (if it is with the series you already making even better!) and I love your writing I so much🤍🤍

hi lovie, thank you for your support<3 i've already written for both of these prompts, so i kinda reworked this, but kept the general vibe of sleepiness and fluff and the dynamic

Words: 2k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, remus pov near the full moon so joint aches and lots of anxiety, breaking curfew, I Need Everyone Near Where I Can Protect Them mindset, some minor suggestive quips, background wolfstar, just fluff really

Note: part of the grumpy!reader universe, set after the reveal to friends in and what about it?, but can be read as a stand alone drabble<3

The nearer the full moon crept, the deeper Remus’ protectiveness seemed to root itself into his heart, spreading out into his bloodstream. A wolfish instinct, if you could call it that, to keep his pack close. If his friends were out of his line of sight or, even worse, out of reach for his smell, anxiety burst through Remus’ body until he was left jittery and dizzy. 

That left him in the Gryffindor common room, a good 20 minutes after curfew on a Thursday evening, leg bouncing restlessly as he watched the portrait hole with hollow eyes. 

Sirius beside him had a hand on his knee, originally intended to quell its tremor, and once he realised that would not happen, it remained there as a support. The black haired boy seemed largely unbothered by everything, but the tension in his body betrayed him – though Remus was growing suspicious he was worried about something entirely different than he was. Namely, about him.

Across from them, James was draped over a grandfather chair, head repeatedly falling as he nodded off before he jerked himself back awake.

“How much longer are we going to stay here, Moons?” he managed to get out in between yawns, already worn out from quidditch practice earlier.

“Until our friend is safe in bed.” Remus squared his shoulders haughtily, leaving no room for argument. Then, “Where is she?” he muttered to himself, so quietly Sirius only barely caught it and had to fight back his sympathetic coo.

“Y/N is fine, baby,” he whispered, the hand on his knee shaking it slightly. “It’s not the first time she’s staying out late. Hells, we do it all the time, too!”

And Remus knew that. Of course he knew that. Every other time of the month, that knowledge would have allowed him to shake his head fondly at your antics, heading off to bed excited to hear about your adventures tomorrow.

Alas; this was not any other time of the month.

“I should go find her,” Remus thought out loud, groaning as he got up from his seat too quickly and his joints gave various sounds of complaint.

“Moony, there is no need–” Sirius started before cutting himself off, apparently thinking better. “My love, if there is anyone who can navigate Hogwarts after dark, it is that minx. The shadows would be scared off by her glare alone. And she won’t appreciate your interruption of whatever she is off doing now.”

“Or who,” James whispered through his sleepiness, horror seeping into his voice.

Sirius’ groan at the thought mirrored him. “Merlin’s beard, yeah, she’s probably off with Junior.”

“I don’t think I will ever get used to hearing that.” James righted himself slightly in his chair, dragging his hands up and down his face, failing at ridding it of sleep.

Remus, still standing, turned his hands outward in a dejected position. His friends’ derailing seemed to be of little notice to him. “But we don’t know. I need to know.”

“Rem,” Sirius whispered in that unbearably soft voice Remus thought himself the luckiest boy in the world to have directed at him. He got up from his seat, hands settling on Remus’ waist, both for comfort and for steading him, he suspected. “She is alright. She always is. And, whether I quite like it or not, if she is with Junior, she is double-y safe. If nothing else, that maniac is protective.”

Remus nodded, allowing himself some comfort as he gazed into Sirius’ silver eyes. “Yeah, she is, I know she is.”

A small, knowing smile tugged at Sirius’ lips. “But?”

“But I’m going to go get her.” Remus’ heart clenched a little in humiliation at how deep the wolf’s streak ran in him in these days, but he also would not let any discomfort get in the way of having his whole pack at home in their nests, where they belong. You can continue your adventures tomorrow.

“Yeah, I know you are,” Sirius relented, pulling Remus into a quick, squeezing hug to ground him. “I’ll go get the map and the cloak and we’ll go.”

Before Sirius could finish his sentence, Remus had accio’d both into his hands.

“No, that’s alright, I’ll go myself.” When Sirius looked like he was about to argue, Remus waved his wand a little in his face as if to say down boy. “As Head Boy, I can get away easier with being out past curfew – you on the other hand, would be shackled up in Flich’s basement before you could get a word out.”

“I have been out past curfew without being caught before, Moons,” Sirius guffawed in true Sirius-offence. 

“Not when picking up one of your best friends from nighttime adventures with one of your least favourite people.” Despite his anxiety and tire, Remus shot Sirius a wink and a small grin that told him I know you, Pads.

Sirius sat back down on the sofa with a huff, crossing his arms petulantly. “Be quick, or I’ll be the grumbly wolf.”

Remus bent down – biting back a small groan as his hip objected – and pressed a wet smooch to Sirius’ forehead and ruffled his hair. “You already are, love.”

When Remus walked towards the portrait hole, map and cloak in hand, he passed a snoring James with his mouth agape. He had a creeping sensation that by the time he came back, Sirius would have woken the poor boy by poking his finger into his mouth.

Cloak around him for extra measure, Remus silently slid down the halls of Hogwarts, fumbling the map open to find you. Just as suspected, a small Y/N L/N was in the astronomy tower with a certain Bartemius Crouch Junior, foot steps almost on top of each other.

He almost cursed his friend for choosing her romantic get-away spot at the top of such an awful amount of stairs before he remembered the spell you had crafted for him with Madam Pomfrey just a few weeks back. You had dedicated your free time to inventing solutions for Remus’ different aches – “what’s the point of magic if not to make your life easier, Moons?” – and while this one was still a work in progress, it allowed the field of gravity around his legs to be lifted enough to take some of the pressure off his poor joints. It worked way better than the countless amounts of times James and Sirius had tried to wingardium leviosa him to class.

As he neared the door that your names were sheltered behind on the map, Remus’ nose was appeased as your familiar scent once more flooded him. Barty’s too, for that matter, and though that was a less welcoming one, Remus had come to find he didn’t much mind it either. 

However, he did not hear voices, which puzzled him. Nor any other sounds that perhaps would have had him turning around.

With a careful hand, Remus opened the creaking door to the very top of the astronomy tower, peaking his tawny curls through the opening and trying to behave as a normal concerned friend and not an anxious, possessive wolf.

“Lupin; to what do we owe the displeasure?”

The voice had all of its usual crass wittiness, but an eight of its usual volume. In the wide windowsill across from Remus, the one that had a view of most of Hogwarts’ grounds, sat Barty propped up with a few pillows and you, sleeping soundly on his chest. 

One arm was held protectively around you, his free hand carding gently through your hair. Your face was slightly smushed against his chest, breathing soft and steady.

Remus doubted he had ever seen you look so serene. It almost made him feel bad for interrupting. Almost.

“Good evening to you too, Junior,” he whispered, as he slowly made his way through the room and over to your sleeping form. He swore he could see Barty tighten his grip on you.

“Should a Head Boy be breaking curfew like this? What would good old Albus say?” 

“Well, when a member of his house doesn’t come home at night, I believe it is a Head Boy’s duty to come fetch them.” Remus tried to seem unbothered, not wanting Barty to know just how anxious he gets when his friends are apart. “Albus would certainly approve.”

Barty hummed, looking from him and down at you. The soft smile that played over his lips did not escape Remus. “I would argue she is home.” Barty’s voice was teasing, but it felt quite real for Remus.

“Is that where your relationship is at now?” There was no teasing in Remus’ voice, just soft curiosity. Support, even, though he could never tell Sirius that.

Barty’s eyes flickered up from you again, facing becoming a bit more stoney as he realised his own sleepiness was making him a tad more soft than he wanted to be in front of the Gryffindor.

“Whatever. Well, as you can see, she’s safe. So you can sod off again.”

“She should come back to the dormitories, Junior. I’m sure she wasn’t planning on spending the night sleeping in a stony windowsill, that can’t possibly be comfortable at length.” 

“Firstly, she is mostly sleeping on top of me right now and I’ll have you know I am super comfortable,” Barty quipped, eyeing Remus. “Secondly,–” a breath “– no, she wasn’t planning on sleeping here, but she did fall asleep. So.”

Remus nodded slowly as he read between the lines, trying to fight his small smile at Barty’s expense – he was sure he would not have appreciated it. “You don’t have the heart to wake her.”

Barty scoffed, but his eyes betrayed him. He was caught. “I don’t have a heart period, Lupin.”

“But?” Remus asked, amusement lining his voice in a way he realised mirrored how Sirius spoke to him earlier. Knowingly, affectionately. 

“But look at her, Lupin. I can’t wake her.” While speaking, Barty seemed to gesture towards your sleeping form with the nod of his jaw, refusing to move his hands from where they were drawing circles on your back and playing with your hair.

Remus hummed in agreement, smile officially bursting free of his hold.

“Oh, sodder off,” Barty grumbled as he saw Remus’ expression, but there seemed to be little to no malice in his voice.

“Sorry, sorry,” Remus laughed softly, careful not to wake you with their conversation. “Just… this was not what I expected to happen three years ago when James confessed his feelings for Regulus to me.”

Barty seemed to scowl at the thought of his best friend and his Gryffindor. “They’re disgusting.”

“Yeah,” Remus said fondly. “And so are you two. Ain’t it great?” 

Barty grumbled, hand in your hair stilling to hold the back of your head. “I’m still not waking her up for you.”

“No need. If you’re careful with shifting her, you could carry her back to the dorms with me.”

“You want me to carry her all the way to Gryffindor?” Barty asked incredulously, looking at Remus as if he was stupid. “I appreciate you noticing my spectacular biceps, but that’s just not happening.”

Remus’ eyes twinkled. “Actually, I’ve got just the spell to make it easier for you.”

And so, Barty carefully shuffled you in his arms while Remus had his wand aimed at the both of you, helping ease the gravity off your form so that it would both be easier for Barty to carry you and for you to continue sleeping.

When you were bridal style in his arms, you shifted a little, burying your face further into his neck. “Sorry, Treasure,” he whispered, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline.

“Fuck off, Junior, let me sleep,” you whined, growing comfortable and tired once more. Remus had to fight not to laugh loudly.

“It’s not my fault, the cops showed up to end our fun.” Barty looked at Remus conspiratorially, who only rolled his eyes in return, as he led the way back to Gryffindor. 

“Stop saying stupid things and let me sleep, baby.” Your voice was already drifting off once more and Barty grinned widely at your slurred words.

“Yes, ma’am.”

It amazed Remus how much this boy loved being insulted by you. Your perfect match, evidently.

As you drifted back to sleep, and the closer your little trio got to the common room where his partner and best friend were waiting, the more Remus’ nerves seemed to settle. Everyone is where they should be.

[myeagleexpert]

𝕮𝖆𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖋𝖊𝖊𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖔𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙?

Yuu has reached her limits, tired and without the strength to fight anymore, it is up to Leona to care for and restore her body and mind with devotion. Notes: Leona in this fic may be a little ooc, but I firmly believe that when he enters into a serious relationship with someone he will become more vulnerable and soft, taking care of the smallest details so that the person feels protected. He's very soft and sweet here, which we all need, right? (Fem!Yuu) You are not a machine, you do not run on steam and electricity. You are a human and you deserve to have your rest days. May this fic be a break for you and so that like Yuu you can have your rest.

This was one of those weeks.

Terrible. Exhausting. Desperate. With sleepless nights and days without eating properly.

And after finishing everything in the early hours of Friday to Saturday and handing over his work to Dire Crowley, because taking care of Grim and doing tasks in a magical world where you parachuted in is tiring enough, imagine the injustice when you still have to do the work of a therapist and do all the paperwork that Crowley forgot to do and threw everything into the shaking hands of the young woman without magic is even more tiring and an overload.

Yuu said goodbye to Grim who went yawning to Ramcharkle and called a sleeping lion to come get you, which was quick, considering he was just waiting for the sign of his love to pick her up on the flying broom and take her in bridal style .

Her friends started to worry because the symptoms were getting worse and worse, frequent headaches, irritation with the squad, confusing people's names and potion ingredients, refusing to stop to rest, because she always responded that she wasn't tired. But everyone saw and turned a blind eye when she fell asleep in the middle of classes, when she shook so much that she couldn't drink water properly, when her nails were always bleeding and her hair became brittle. Everyone was worried and didn't know what to do.

She was becoming increasingly sick and weak, a workaholic, and was unable to share the heavy burdens with anyone. She held the world on her shoulders, dividing herself into 100 so that the work could be done with excellence. Terrible idea, but necessary. She had water up her neck and was running out of air and options.

Jack, as a loyal friend, had the courage to tell Leona everything that was happening to Yuu, and that he, as her boyfriend, should do something. It was then that Leona swore that she would take care of her now, because if the discrepancies didn't lead anywhere, he would have to take drastic actions, like wrapping up an act in a burrito.

"Are you okay?"-Leona looked worried at her strangely cold and quiet form.

"Hunhun.." a yawn interrupted the little princess-"just tired…but fine" with a voice as loud as the whisper of a little mouse.

It didn't take long for them to get to Leona's room, and it took even less time for Yuu to trip on the carpet and hit the arm of the dresser next to the bed. Since when was that damn thing there? And then she threw herself on his spacious bed, still wearing her uniform and sneakers, and with makeup slightly smeared from the day's course on her face.

"Tsk… this herbivore."

The powerful and feared lion gently took off the girl's sneakers and placed her in a comfortable position, being careful not to wake her. And with the greatest care that hands made to destroy, he takes a cloth of warm water and delicately cleans Yuu's face of makeup, removing the excess mascara from her eyes, and the concealer that tried to hide the deep dark circles that were demonstrating the Yuu's exhaustion. Leona almost feels responsible for her tiredness, for her sadness, for not being able to help her enough, for not having been by her side when she deals with giants bigger than herself, for not having talked more about her carrying the world on her shoulders. That she is not alone.

And do you want to know the worst? That it wasn't the first time this was happening and it was getting more intense than before.

Leona was never one to believe in gods or be religious, but that night he prayed at the foot of the bed to whatever powerful being was in the heights, that he would always be by her side, that he would be strong enough to hold her. without trembling, so that one day she can be free and happy.

And when he went to lie down next to Yuu, he held her tight in her sleep, because at least in his arms she wouldn't have to deal with the threats of the world.

It was noon on Saturday morning when Yuu woke up from her more than deserved sleep, but she didn't have the strength to move enough and chose to sleep like a log for another 10 min…20…30… .. until her body decided it could become conscious.

By rubbing her eyes she tried to get used to the light in the place, or rather, the lack of light. Disoriented, she noticed that she wasn't in her precious Ramcharcle room, if she had been Grim would have woken her up for breakfast, meowing loudly until she had her tuna toast. She was then in….

"Good morning, princess." - said the gentle voice of the lion, he crossed the room and opened the curtains letting the sun shine. "How did sleeping beauty sleep?" he took the chance to get into bed with her

"Morning…" Yuu gave a heavy sigh and replied in a slightly worn voice, almost moaning from how refreshing the sleep was "Well…I slept well, my love. Did I give you trouble?"

"It's going to be trouble now" with a smile, Leona stood up and took her hand like a gentleman guiding her to the bathroom.

"Hey…I shower alone."

"This time you're going alone, but next time we'll be together" - he said with a damn smirk - "I have a gift for you"

At the entrance to the bathroom there was a beautiful gift basket. A basket with luxury skincare, recommended by the queen of Sunset Savanah herself and by a brand designed only for celebrities.

"Actually, I was going to give you this gift on our date next week. But my plans were advanced and today seems like a great opportunity." he smiled fondly and gave Yuu a kiss on the forehead before leaving to prepare something for her to eat.

The shower water was like a cold current that took away the thick layer of frustrations, fears, desires, and slowly brought the lightness of Yuu's heart, she smiled involuntarily when she saw that the basket's theme was for sleeping and relaxing, having exquisite notes of lavender and chamomile. He must be really worried. The body scrub renewed her skin, giving her a feeling of deep cleansing and freshness, and when she applied the shampoo and conditioner to her hair, she realized that it had been a long time since she had time to take care of herself with such patience. No spa day for days. No money for a new perfume. No time to take care of your body and mind. Even her nails, which were previously so vain and painted in different colors and interesting details, were bitten, she took out all her anxiety and stress on her nails, because what else could she do?

After a while in the bathroom, she came out and found a pair of clean, folded oversized pajamas on the bed. And she knew it was there for her, because Ruggie had perfected the lavender scent of the fabric softener, because Leona hates strong smells in his clothes.

"How do you feel? Do you want to sleep more?" Leona appeared at the bedroom door suddenly and approached Yuu.

"You arrived just in time, love. I'm just out of the shower" - Yuu wrapped her arms around the prince's waist, pulling him into a hug that was soon returned.

"We'll be eating in a bit. Ruggie is making your favorites and will bring them when ready."

"Great, now I'm going to comb my hair-"

"Nah nah nah bun, let me do it. Sit here." He said sitting on the bed, waiting for Yuu to sit in front of him. And she goes, used to his grooming.

You might think he wouldn't know how to take care of a person, and something as simple and intimate as combing someone else's hair could turn into a disastrous situation. But when it comes to Yuu, his partner, his mate, his equal, he makes a point of applying a cream first and massaging his princess's scalp, combing it with a comb designed for her hair, untangling the strands with tenderness and love. , mentally cursing the knots that dared to remain in Yuu's delicate mane.

How many times had Yuu done this for him in the dark and distressing days he had already gone through? And all he wants is to repay the love he received on a silver platter a thousand times over. Leos are very possessive of their mates, you know? An intense and protective love.

"Did you like the present?" he said, sniffing deeply Yuu's neck, inhaling the calming notes -" Farena's wife who recommendend this to me"

"Wow, what an honor that the queen personally chose my gift." she said laughing "But I did like it, just what I need at the moment."

"hey, I helped too. Don't give her all the credit."

"Oh yeah? And how did you help?"

"Saying whether it was approved or not, of course."

Yuu would comment further on this when he saw the strange pattern Leona was making in her hair.

"Hey baby, what are you doing?"

"I'm finishing your hair, it's like this, right? I researched your hair type online and saw that it's supposed to be styled like this."- If Vil saw this he would be horrified by Leona's messy hairstyle, but Yuu didn't care. This was because she was immensely grateful that her partner was taking care of her so well.

"Ow kitten, thank you." her heart was static, like a wound being healed little by little and it didn't hurt that much. "come here."

Yuu turned around and hugged the big cat, placing kisses on his cheek and mouth. "You're the best, love."

"Everything for you, darling." caressing her cheek and looking deep into the girl's eyes, he continued- "Just for you."

The moment was as delicate as a flower, vulnerable, two people healing each other through gestures and words, enjoying the calm and peaceful moment they hadn't had in days. And if the moment could last longer, it would, but a certain hyena had to enter just in time.

"Leona-sammm~ Yuu's lunch is here. Yuu, are you awake?"

Ruggie found Yuu sitting on the bed, smiling at him.

And Leona staring at him with a hateful face that said: "Don't you know how to hit, hyena?" with its tail wagging in annoyance, like a cat.

"How are you Yuu? This time you scared us so much shi shi shi~" he laughed in relief seeing that his friend, despite being tired, was recovering and left the snack on a small table next to the bed

"I'm getting better little by little… but I'm very hungry!" she said, getting up towards the table and enjoying the smell of the delicious food.

There were two sandwiches with shredded chicken, cheese and ham, lightly toasted, with a protein cream to accompany and two glasses of citrus juice.

Leona knew everything about Yuu and when he saw the eyes lit up by a simple food he knew that the plan had worked: Right at the beginning of their relationship, in a conversation about their childhood Yuu had confessed that her mother always made this sandwich when she was sick and tired to regain her energy, and always, always with a citrus juice to go with it.

He never forgot.

And he wants Yuu to know that even in her smallest details, he hasn't forgotten.

"Eat to your heart's content, we're going to need you tomorrow!" Leona immediately glared at Ruggie the moment he profaned those words.

"Uat weonna do?" with a voice full of food she asked

"Well, tomorrow will be-"

"There won't be anything Ruggie, let her rest. It's Sunday, she'll spend the day here." Leona roared quickly and to the point, wrapping an arm protectively around Yuu's waist.

"Ok ok relax, I'm joking bro shi shi shi~" covering his hand over his mouth he laughed softly, impressed as in any situation involving Yuu, Leona will show her claws to protect Yuu, that's a material for profocation later.

They spent the afternoon relaxing, he was sprawled out on Yuu's lap, while she responded to friends, comments, posts on her cell phone, laughing at her boyfriend's sarcastic comments, watching movies while eating popcorn, and when it was time to go to sleep, they were both cuddled up together, underneath with soft covers, in each other's arms whispering words of love.

"Thank you for today kitty, I felt like a spoiled little princess" she thanked the equally spoiled prince, who was currently having his ears stroked while listening to Yuu's heart, buried in her chest.

"Well, you better get used to it, from now on the treatment is real. And another thing, it doesn't scare me like that. If I see you working yourself to the bone, I'll ruin that crow's race myself."

The two laughed and when a comfortable silence reigned, he could only hear Yuu's breathing slowing down, calming down, and watching how her eyelids slowly became heavier, the good side of night vision.

"Hey Leona….." "Hmm?"

"…I love you" she approached and whispered incoherently with the sleep already taking over her body, on the lips of the lion prince who smiled and returned the kiss

"I love you too, my love." and with that his tail wrapped around Yuu's leg, pulling her closer. The stars are witnesses to this delicate romance, and between the purring of a lion and the slow massages of the princess's hair, the two got the rest they deserved.

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Every like, repost and comment is very welcome and appreciated. ♥

@nickson-lol I think you'll enjoy this <3

[bbydoll18xx]

This Is Me Trying

'I just wanted you to know that this is me trying.'

Azzi Fudd x Reader

Based on this request (sorry it took forever lol)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.1k

Themes: depression, mild alcohol abuse, hurt/comfort

A/N: hiii so here i am trying out writing for someone other than Paige, and I really hope you like it! If this is a decent success I may write for other people as well :) And of course it was time to write a fic to go along with my most favorite song of all time (folklore stans rise up)

Lets do thisss

also sorry this is lowkey kinda depressing i am a sad girly

~

Your lack of sleep was showing in deep purple bruises under your eyes that no amount of even the heaviest concealer could adequately cover. You haven't slept well in days, and today’s shift had not helped your exhaustion. The day was filled with incessant neediness, people cussing you out, and an endless amount of shit.

Literally and figuratively. 

You walk into your apartment, just wanting nothing but to fall into Azzi’s warm and loving arms, but you’re met with the still darkness of an empty home. Your girlfriend was in Las Vegas playing against the Aces, and she would not be home until tomorrow afternoon. 

She had promised to call you after the game, but you weren’t sure if you would even make it through your shower, much less wait up for her by the phone for another three hours. 

Your eyes fill with tears, the feeling of overwhelming loneliness mixing with your exhaustion, and as you throw your stuff on the floor, dredging your body into your bathroom, letting the downpour of water drown out your own tears. 

You had become quite accustomed to hiding your feelings behind bright smiles and fake laughs, desperate to clutch onto the need to prove to everyone that you were okay.

Even if you really weren't.

Your girlfriend had enough stress on her, and the idea of her needing to worry about you, too, was enough to send guilt shooting through your entire body. 

You had kept up your facade all throughout college, choosing to take long, solo car rides until you had to pull over, the tears swimming in your eyes nearly blinding you. And when you were strung along to the bars with Azzi and the rest of her teammates, you drowned your sorrows and fears with liquor, numbing your thoughts and your body until you were delirious. 

You were the golden girl. 

You knew what jokes to crack for which group of people you were around at the time. Your grades were stellar. And you had bagged the prettiest, sweetest girl in probably the entire universe. 

So, you resented yourself for feeling anything other than being on top of the world, because it was actually quite the opposite.

It got worse once you graduated. 

Azzi was often gone, traveling for away games, and that left you alone to process the unimaginable emotions that came with your budding nursing career. Feelings of loss and incompetence clouded your brain constantly.

Today was no different. 

You had lost a patient, a kind, gentle woman who finally let go, taking her last breath while gripping your hand, completely alone. 

It broke you, and the devastating reality had sunk into your chest, crushing all of the air out of your fragile lungs. And you were now gasping for air, leaving you feeling bereft and vulnerable, like an open wound. 

Maybe that’s all you’d ever really be, and you could not help but think that you were the festering wound in yours and Azzi’s relationship, threatening to slowly tear it apart until the two of you were left standing in the tattered shreds of what used to be. 

You wanted things to be okay so, so badly, but the overwhelming feelings of loneliness and longing had set in, chilling you down to the bone. And you were scared. 

So you would just continue on pretending. 

Azzi comes home the next day, and you put the mask back on the second she walks through the door. You’d be lying, though, if her presence didn’t make you feel the tiniest bit whole again. You melt into her arms, drinking in her presence, as she rubs your back soothingly, her face pressed into the crook of your neck. 

Maybe everything would be okay, if only you could be honest with her.

~

Azzi lays in bed next to you, and you indulge in the way her smell has permeated the soft bedsheets again, after days of the scent slowly becoming less and less potent. She smells warm and comforting, and you nuzzle into her, desperate for her to fix every little part of you that was screaming out in insecurity and despondancy.

A low sigh escapes your throat, secretly wanting your girlfriend to pick up on your mood, and because she knows you better than anyone else, she does. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” She questions, her tone filled with concern and worry. She places a hand on your cheek, coaxing you to look into her eyes, and the glow of the lamp on the bedside table illuminates the kindness emitting from her deep brown irises. 

“I–” You begin, taking a deep breath and then stopping. Trying to put all your emotions into coherent words was quite the task. And honestly, you were terrified of how Azzi would react. 

Her thumb strokes your cheek, as she sits up fully next to you in the bed, eyes still peering into yours. 

“It’s okay, it’s just me,” she murmurs gently, and something clicks inside of you.

It was Azzi. You could tell her anything, and it would never even come close to dimming any of the love she felt for you. 

In that moment, all the anxiety you felt about coming clean seemed silly, like it had been built up in your head to great heights, and here it was now, crashing down all around you.

“I’ve been really depressed,” you mumble, your cheeks feeling warm from her touch and the prickling of shame. “For a long time, actually. And I really fucking miss you. I hate feeling like a needy girlfriend, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this.”

The confession pours out of you, and as the air stills between you, your heart races as you watch Azzi’s face contort into a look of hurt and confusion.

“Oh, baby,” she breathes, scooping you up and setting you into her lap, legs draped over hers as she interlaces your fingers with hers. 

“I’ve been missing you, too. And I didn’t want you to feel like you had to sacrifice your career for mine,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss onto your temple. 

Your shoulders sag in relief, and you connect your lips in a kiss. There were numerous unspoken words shared as your lips entwined in a sheer display of passion.

As you break apart, you gaze back into those dark brown eyes, pupils now blown wide. “Guess this means we’ll have a lot more time to be doing this,” you giggle, wagging your eyebrows at Azzi.

She shakes her head fondly. “Just want my sweet, happy girl back,” she whispers in your ear.

Little did she know, you already were.

~

I really hope everyone enjoyed this. I have been toying around with a lil Pazzi fic, so let me know if you'd be interested :)

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@fullladypanda-blog, @omg-imtumbling, @tenaciousglitternerd, @oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half , @patscorner , @dietcokesmom , @tndaqltoifwy

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message!

[cjlouwho]

The Only Exception

Had to write a little fic from Tommy's perspective based off of The Only Exception by Paramore. Read below or on ao3!

For so long, love felt to Tommy like wearing a turtleneck on a summer day. It was uncomfortable. Itchy, sweaty, and no matter how much you tugged it away from your neck it came right back to choke you again.

That was the type of love he'd grown up with. A love that was never truly love at all.

A father who failed more often than he succeeded. Who cheated and lied and spewed words of hatred. Who treated him like gum on the bottom of his shoe. Who treated his mom even worse.

And his mom would get sick of it. She'd say she was done. She'd cry and yell and pack her bags- only her bags- and she'd look Tommy straight in the eyes and tell him, “This is what love looks like, Thomas, this is all it is.”

During those times, Tommy's dad would beg and plead for her to stay. He couldn't make it through life without her, he didn't know what he'd do if she left, he was nothing without her, she was nothing without him.

He'd wipe away her tears and take her suitcase from her hand and lead her back to the bedroom. Tommy would make himself a bowl of cereal, sit on the couch, watch cartoons until after the sun had set, then he'd tuck himself into bed.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

When he got older and left for the army, there wasn't really time for love. There was time for quickies in secret hookup spots around base. There was time to learn more about himself than he dared speak about. There was time to get close to a guy who laughed in his face when Tommy told him that maybe one day they could leave the military and get a place together.

You're living in a fantasy world, Kinard, so here's some reality. Guys like us weren't made to be loved.

He was young and naive then.

He learned to grow up quickly.

He tried love after he first became a firefighter. But love was closing his eyes and imagining someone else when he was intimate with her. It was taking extra shifts at work so he had an excuse not to invite her over. It was telling her he had to sleep alone because he had nightmares.

It was unfair to them both.

It wasn't love.

Because love doesn't exist.

Tommy learned to be comfortable with being alone. Learned to keep himself busy with hobbies so he was content when he walked into his empty house.

Learned to enjoy another man's touch for a night, and be gone long before the sun rose.

Learned to fake girlfriends at work, be the guy who has someone new every other month. Let everyone call him a player because that was better than any other word they'd use if they knew the truth.

Love doesn't exist. Not for someone like me.

Even at Harbor, once he decided to be honest with himself and the people around him, love felt like an illusion.

There was the guy who was still deep in the closet, who didn't even want to look at Tommy when they were in bed together.

Then the guy who paraded him around and let everyone, including his ex-boyfriend, know he was with a firefighter.

The guy who in the end said he only asked him out because Tommy saved his life and he felt he owed him that much.

Just stop trying.

That's what he did. He stayed in his bubble of work, hobbies, home.

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

Every day the same.

Then he got a phone call from someone he hadn't heard from in a while.

And he literally owed his life to this guy, so of course he said yes to the most insane plan he'd ever heard.

Then suddenly he was meeting two new guys that had joined the 118 after he left. He was reconnecting with Hen, he was getting texts from Howie, he was gaining a new friend in Eddie, and he had plans to teach this Evan how to fly.

Evan with a beautiful smile and a hot body and the most adorable personality he'd ever seen.

He needed to keep his distance, because he didn't know Evan very well and he could be reading this all wrong.

Which, apparently he was, because Evan seemed to hate him and the last thing he needed was for this overall sweet guy with beautiful eyes to hate him.

He needed to do something to fix it. Needed to make things right so he didn't lose this friendship that hadn't even had a chance to begin.

So, he went to Evan's place and...

Oh.

It's funny how a person can really change your perspective of things.

Maybe the only time love doesn't last is when it's not meant to. Maybe there are exceptions. And maybe it'll find you when you least expect it. Maybe it'll find you in the loft of an apartment you've never been in before. Or during a messy first date that could've ended better on both ends.

Maybe love is an attempt to get your coffee order right when you've never even discussed whether or not you like coffee.

Or it's an insane ask to be a date to a wedding, because even though you barely know each other his family wants to meet you. He's talked about you to them.

It's found in a hug at a bachelor party, or in a “be safe” when you're going into work.

Maybe love is a kiss at the entrance of a hospital. So unexpected you can't help but vocalize your surprise.

Maybe it's not caring if you have evidence of a make-out session all over your face because you like this guy and you don't care who knows it.

Or maybe it's being there when someone from your past pops up and you can't quite vocalize how you feel.

Love is a late night dinner after a bad day where you can express your worries and discuss parental trauma. Love is knowing when to turn the conversation on its heels and flirt because life's been too serious lately and sometimes you need a reason to smile.

Love is found in the person you lean on when you're upset or angry. It's who you go to with your tears, whether they're from sadness or rage.

It's learning each other's flaws and not running away. It's learning to love their mess, all of their imperfections, and sticking it out because they're worth it.

It's a heated argument that no one wins and you forget what started it in the first place. It's in not giving a reason to pack your bags and threaten to leave, but in hashing it out because the person is worth staying for.

It's in honesty and thinking before you speak and being faithful.

It's in a hospital room after an injury that almost takes your life. It's when you open your eyes and your person is seated beside you looking worse than you do because they haven't slept in three days.

Love is cooking dinner together, and laughing so hard that soda shoots out your nose because only one of you knows how to follow a recipe.

Love is running to you when you show up at their station unannounced because they forgot their lunch in your fridge.

It's a kiss in the middle of a station that once held your biggest insecurities hostage. It's a hand on your back leading you up the stairs because everyone will want to see you.

Love is a gasp and a plead for more. A whisper that it's never felt like this before. It's strong arms gripping your back, wanting to feel you, wanting to kiss you, wanting to see you.

Love is holding you close until you fall asleep, until the sun rises, and even long after that.

Love is breaking through every rule you've made for yourself without even realizing it. Breaking down each and every barrier you've put in your own way and doing it with such grace and care that it brings tears to your eyes if you think about it too much.

Love is the person lying beside you right now, snoring so loudly you can't sleep, but you don't even care. You watch them, place a hand over their chest to feel their heartbeat because sometimes you wonder if they truly exist.

Love is curling into your touch, smacking their lips as they tug you closer and resume snoring right in your ear.

Love is here.

Love is present.

Love is real.

Love is Evan.

[gtgbabie0]

HI, i love your work about the marauders and hotd and i was wondering if u would write cregan stark fluff with jealous reader but if u don't want to its okay. HAVE A GREAT DAY

-Cregan Stark x reader

{House Ryswell seeks an audience with Cregan Stark, and their daughter seems to take quite a liking to him}

I got extremely carried away with this, I hope you enjoy lovelies! 💕

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It's strange how time can seem so slow when your mood has been soured by something so silly, something that you're sure you have made up in your own mind, to defend the feeling of this unadulterated jealousy that slithers its way at your heart tugging on it every so often.

Foolish, you think, although you're not quite sure what exactly it is about this whole situation you find, foolish. Is it the way, Cregan smiles at the ever-beautiful Lady Darla of house Rsywell? or is it because your mind has convinced you that Cregan would break your trust like that? maybe, it's her ever thinking she stood a chance with your husband. Whatever it might be it's sure is foolish.

But it's real nonetheless, horrible and very real. The jealousy that bubbles deep within you only fuels the doubts that plague your mind, and those same thoughts conjure another dreadful feeling, something that pinches at your heart as you watch Lady Ryswell place a dainty hand on Cregan's arm, insecurity it finds an unwelcome home within your chest.

Despite sitting so close to Cregan, you still feel miles away, watching him converse, lost, within his own world with the Lady next to him. You feel ignored and as you glance around the room you're sure that everyone else sees it too, you've been pushed aside like some sickly wife that's nearing her time.

It's only when you hear Cregan's warm chuckle do you look over to the pair once again, her hand sits higher up on his arm, there's something about the sight that breaks you. As if it couldn't get any worse Drala turns to you with a smile that makes you sick to your stomach, warm and inviting.

"Your Husband is so charming Lady Stark" she giggles, her hand still against his arm, and you swear she squeezes it ever so softly.

Slamming your cup down against the wooden table, with more vigour than you had meant, you clear your throat, "Yes he is- charmed me right into marriage" It gets a laugh or two from the others is House Ryswell.

Drala's mother even leans to you whispering a humoured, "My husband could learn a thing or two" You watch as she glances over at him with a teary smile, he seemed quite caught up with gawking at the maids, "That man knows nothing of charm" she spits before leaning back into her chair.

Cregan's hand rests against your thigh, and for a second, your racing mind seems to calm down, it's as if you can finally breathe, and then he pulls away going back to what must be a riveting conversation with Darla. You've had enough of this torture, no longer being able to bare it you call for Lyra, keeping a hushed tone as she bends down to you slightly.

"I think I am ready to retire for tonight," you tell her through gritted teeth, trying to keep the barrage of emotions at bay, she gives you an understanding nod.

"Of course M'lady " She smiles softly as she hurries off to your bedchambers preparing a change of clothes for your arrival.

You stand keeping a strict posture, it's only now do you feel as if you finally have caught Cregan's attention. "Forgive me, but I think I shall call it a night" You bite back the tears that collect along your lash line nibbling your cheek.

"Aw already? Just when I thought our conversation was bearing good fruit" she whines, her voice going straight through you just like nails on a chalkboard, she pouts, a spoiled brat who knows no discipline.

"Oh please, don't feel inclined to stop on my behalf" You smile with a curt bow before turning your heel and leaving, ignoring the way Cregan calls for you, an advance he must've given up on quite quickly as Darla calls for more drinks practically begging your husband to stay, you don't hear the rest of the conversation too focused on trying to calm your breathing.

"Lady Stark" Lyra bows softly as you walk into your bedchambers, shutting the heavy wooden door behind you with an exasperated sigh. "I have prepared you some tea m'lady," she says with a gentle tone as you sit down in front of your vanity. She makes starts to unclasp your necklace.

"Thank you Lyra, you're far to-" and before you can finish your sentence the door opens with a low groan. You don't bother turning around already knowing who it is.

"Lyra, could you give us a minute" Cregan huffs, sounding very unamused as he walks into the candle-lit room.

"Of course m'lord," she says, bowing as she rushes out of the room, and it's then the silence hits, smothering the room with its thick presence that you're sure it could snuff out the flames of the various candles.

You look at him through the reflection of the mirror as he sits down on the fur-covered sofa, running a hand through his hair before finally glancing over at you, there's something in his eyes that makes you feel... small, you have always said you would hate to be on the receiving end of Cregan's anger, that any man to challenge him would be a fool.

"Would you like to explain to me what exactly just happened?" he asks, frustration seeping into his tone and your answer or rather lack thereof only fuels it further. "Do you find pleasure in ignoring me?" he huffs, giving you a rather annoyed look.

And as childish as it might seem, you were. "Yes, well now you know how it feels, don't you?" you mumble, untying the pins in your hair before taking off your rings.

"What?" he questions watching in slight shock as you stand up, the chair behind you drags along the floor with a shriek.

"Tell me, Cregan, do you think our marriage is a farce?" you ask turning to face him with tears in your eyes, tears that you try so hard to hold back, "Do you take enjoyment out of making a mockery of our marriage?" your hands shake with the sudden adrenaline as you point at him, your finger nudging his should as rage pinches at your skin, he looks up at you with hurt in his eyes and for a minute you feel inclined to apologise.

He stands up, trying to reach for your hands but you don't let him as you pull away from his touch, he accepts defeat with a heavy heart, the sight of your tearful face makes his stomach drop.

"A farce? What in the seven hells are you on about women?" the hurt that sits in his chest slowly churns into something much more as it wraps around his heart squeezing it with force.

"Do not play ignorant with me Cregan" You speak through gritted teeth as he inches closer to you, "You sat there the entire night ignoring me whilst you entertained that naive girl" You feel your knees buckle under the stress of it all as you fall back onto the bed with a soft bounce.

"I was merely trying to be a good host" his voice is so gentle, calm that it makes you angrier.

"Being a good host does not substitute you pushing me aside like some sick dog as you fool around with her!- the entire night." you huff biting the inside of your lip.

"You're jealous?" he asks in almost disbelief.

"What?- Jealous I'm-" You can't deny it, you were, you were jealous of the pretty Ryswell girl and how she seemed to have captured Cregan's attention.

"You are missing my point entirely," you whisper leaning into him as he sits down on the bed next to you.

"I'm sorry- you're right, I should've paid more attention to you," he says, wiping away the tears that fall from your eyes, "I meant no harm by it, I swear." he presses a gentle kiss to your hairline.

"It was embarrassing Cregan, the way they all looked at me with pity in their eyes. I am your wife." you sigh, the events of tonight wearing down on you more than you thought, and now the fabric of your dress felt all too tight and itchy.

"Forgive me my love- my beautiful wife" he says pressing another kiss to your shoulder as he helps you up from the bed.

"You can get Lyra to help me if you want to go back to entertaining our guests" you whisper, testing him a little as you sneak a glance his way.

"There are no guests to entertain sweetheart, I called it off as soon as you left," he mumbles against your neck as he continues to peppers soft kisses to your warming skin.

He undoes the lace of your dress, pulling at the fabric as it loosens around your shoulders, coming undone to reveal your back, his gentle fingers trailing along your spine as his soft lips traverse to your neck.

"I never meant to hurt you or make you doubt your place within my heart" he whispers as he tugs your dress completely off, letting it hit the floor with a soft thud before going to get your nightdress, slipping the soft fabric over your body before wrapping his strong arms around your middle, nuzzling his nose in the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he breathes in deeply.

"I swear, by the old gods and new that my heart belongs to you, all of it." Cregan turns you around to face him and it's only then he sees your tear-stained face, the way your bottom lip juts out at his loving words.

"I love you," he says as you push your face against his chest, letting all the built-up emotions go as they leave you in the form of tears. His big hand soothes the expanse of your back as he sways you in his arms ever so gently. He swears to never make you feel as you did tonight, ever again.

"I love you too" you whisper against the leather he is wearing. He cups your face within his hands, the warmth of his palms bleeding with affection as his thumb soothes against the apples of your cheeks.

"Come on my love, let's go to bed eh?" you nod as he tucks your hair behind your ears. You fall asleep wrapped up with him, a mess of limbs underneath the furs as he holds you gently and in the morning and every morning after that Cregan sings your praises, never letting you doubt your place beside him, ever.

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