#look me in the eyes and say this isn’t possible | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnamorollcrybaby · 23 hours ago

Text

BEG!

Tags: Satoru x fem!Reader, nocurse!au, misogynistic!gojo, college!au, reader puts him in his place, CRACK do not take this fic seriously, enemies to lovers, suggestive, mdni

Synopsis: Satoru is a stupid alpha bro who’s misogynistic and a play boy in a fraternity at your college. He learns that he can’t walk all over you, and that turns him on.

An: Thank you to everyone who commented on that post and encouraged me to write this! I didn’t think you guys would eat it up like you did 😅 I thought this would be a smutty one-off, but I actually wanted to try and make it into something a little more meaningful; hence why it took a bit longer to post. This is only part one :)

The party. |

His house screamed wealth and overconsumption at every corner. Money was obviously frivolously spent with building and furnishing the Gojo fraternity house. It was sleek, modern, but still a devastating bachelor’s pad.

The Gojo fraternity held parties every day of the weekend, including Sunday. Women got in for free, and men had to pay 5 dollars to get in. Not that Satoru needed the money — he was disgustingly wealthy and a trust fund baby. He merely charged guys money that way no one below his standard could just waltz into his frat house.

Of course, he truly believed every other man in the frat house was below him in some way. He had the full package: smart, funny, rich, handsome, a dick that should be registered as a legal weapon.

It was no wonder that women was never an issue for him. He found flirting with them to be like child’s play. It’s just too fucking easy…. pun intended. He and Suguru once had a challenge to see who could pick up the most women in a single night. Satoru ended his night after fucking 9 women in a single night, and one of those events was actually a foursome between him and three girls at once.

Honestly, he could be so much worse. With a witty personality and a mouth that just won’t shut up, he could talk his way into or out of anything.

It’s a Sunday night, which usually isn’t a big turn out for the party at his house since everyone has class the next morning. Plus, all homework is due at 11:59pm on Sundays. But this turn out was just embarrassing, there was merely 10 people all sat in his living room.

Suguru already had a girl in his lap. Everyone was giggling about something. Satoru felt like he had a chip on his shoulder, he wasn’t the center of attention right now, so he had to fix that.

Plus, there was a pretty girl in the room who he wanted to impress.

Sitting down in front of you, Satoru grins and hands you a cup undoubtedly of liquor. “Here you go, sweetness. Have one more.” He encourages, knowing that it’d be easier to chat you up if you’re a little buzzed.

“Oh, thanks.” You smile politely, and you fake taking a drink out of it. You’ve heard the stories about Satoru, and there’s just no way in hell you’re drinking something he gives you.

“What are you all talking about?” Satoru asks with a casual grin, and he takes a sip of his own drink.

“Oh, just how dumb Andrew Tate is.” A nobody responds from within the group.

“What? He’s not dumb…” Satoru nearly pouts as his favorite starboy was being harshly criticized by his friends.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you like him.” You say with disgusted look on your face as you eye Satoru. Now, you’re definitely not drinking whatever he just gave you.

Satoru’s face twists in defense as you so boldly speak up about his interests. It’s clear to you that he’s offended, but he’s trying not to make a big deal out of it.

“Why? What do you think is so bad about him?” He retorts as he cocks an eyebrow, leaning back in his seat to try to appear as confident and collected as possible.

“How about how he treats women like shit?” You ask, raising your own eyebrow. Satoru has another thing coming if he thinks you’re just going to bow down and not argue with him because he’s rich.

“He doesn’t treat women like shit-? Where are you getting your facts from?” Satoru argues, and his jaw tightens a minuscule amount. It’s bad enough that he’s being challenged, but he’s being challenged by a woman.

“His literal interviews, and the video of him literally beating a woman?”

“That video was just a sex act without any context.” He dismisses, rolling his eyes and not dispelling any claims about the interviews.

“Bitch, is that what sex sounds like to you? Because you must not be doing it right if she sounds like that.”The room erupts into laughter, and Satoru’s face only makes it better. His pale skin is becoming a little flushed. His eyebrow is twitching slightly with anger.

He takes a breath before quickly recovering. He hasn’t forgotten his objective tonight is to sleep with you. His signature smile returns to his face, and he leans in slightly. “I don’t know. Why don’t you come teach me how to do it right?”

“As if. I’d rather grind my pussy against a cheese grater than fuck an Andrew Tate fan.” More laughter breaks out amongst the small group of people.

Satoru’s jaw drops as he looks at you with disbelief. You’d rather… grate your cunt than sleep with him? “Oh yeah? So, what kind of guy piques your interest then, princess? You probably like those woke emasculated guys. Suguru might be more up your alley.”

“Hey, what the fuck?” Suguru laughs, chunking an empty beer can at Satoru’s head. The girl in Suguru’s lap continues to mindlessly giggle and play with his hair.

“No, I like men who are calm and capable. Maybe a guy who can lead but also knows when to take the backseat.” You explain, eyes wandering over Satoru’s stature. “I like them funny and kind.”

“See? I’m just what you need, princess. I can do all those things and so much more.”

“Yeah? You’re going to take the backseat sometimes?” You challenge with a knowing smile on your face. You already know what type of guy Satoru is based off of this sole interaction — plus all of the horror stories of how he’s a modern-day Casanova.

“Princess, the only time you’ll need me to take a backseat is when you’re riding that pretty pussy against my face.” His cerulean eyes gleam against the LEDs in the room. He’s fully confident that will win you over.

Your face stays completely flat. You don’t even crack a small pity smile for him. “Oh sorry, was this meant to be the part where you’re funny?”

Satoru looks at you, and you see a small twitch in his eye. He’s never had someone match his wit or his sass before. You were the perfect challenge for him — his perfect match up.

He tips his red solo cup up until his finishes the rest of his drink. Fuck sleeping with you. He wants to make you beg for him to fuck you while he just laughs in disinterest. You’re his mission now.

“You’re cute, princess.” He finally comments before getting comfortable in his chair again. “You don’t have to act like you don’t want me. ‘s okay. No one here will blame you.”

Your arms cross over your chest, and your lips curl into a frown. As much as you want to pretend to be unbothered, your face can help but show the irritation you feel from him. He’s unwavering, thinking that he will just argue and flirt his way to winning you over.

He needs to be humbled real quick, and you’ve got nothing else better to do.

“Oh really? Thank god. I’ve been dying to get on my knees and suck the most mediocre dick of my life.”

“You have the wrong guy, sweetness. I’m anything but mediocre.” He retorts without missing a beat.

By this time, most of everyone has stopped paying attention to you two — used to Satoru’s antics by now. This is just another Sunday night for him — chasing pussy as per usual.

“Yeah? Any guy who constantly boasts about how good they are in bed usually isn’t good at all.” You respond with a small eye roll.

Satoru’s strong arms cross over his chest. He’s wearing a simple white shirt with some black pants. It’s overwhelming plain, but it compliments him so well since his appearance is striking enough as it is. “I never boasted, princess. I simply stated that I wasn’t mediocre.”

You let out a small scoff and shake your head. It was honestly arguing with a brick wall. “Semantics. Either way, I don’t want to fuck you.” You dump your liquor out into a potted plant that’s next to the couch.

Wondering why you even decided to come to this stupid party, you stand up, and Satoru follows suit. “Hey now, darling. Come on. Don’t leave now. The night’s still young.” He tries to smooth things over as he takes puts his hands up in surrender. “I promise I won’t call out the obvious sexual tension between us for the rest of the night.”

“I have more sexual tension with your fake houseplant that I dumped my liquor into.” You deadpan, gathering your things as you decide that a cozy night in would be better than this mess.

Walking outside the house after everyone wishes you goodbye, you let out an audible sigh as you hear the door open and shut once more behind you. You spin on your heel to find Satoru jogging up behind you.

“Did I ruin your mood that much?” He asks with a small smile, shoving his hands into his pockets as he falls in step beside you.

“Well, following me home is certainly not giving you any bonus points.” You retort, tugging your jacket a little bit closer to your body. “Besides, that’s not really my scene.”

Satoru glances over at you as the two of you walk. He finds himself hypnotized in the way your skin glows in the moonlight. He would be lying if he tried to convince himself that you weren’t pretty because you are. Gorgeous — in fact.

“Really?” His voice is a shade softer now that he doesn’t have everyone’s eyes on him. “You seemed like a natural in there.”

You shrug your shoulders, not offering up any more information about yourself to him. He’s just another misguided frat boy with no intentions to change who’s looking to hit.

Satoru hates silence almost as much as he hates not being the center of attention. He hates how you’re not giving in even the slightest for him

“We should go out to dinner together sometime. I think you’d be surprised on how well I can fit in to any scene.” He offers, not quite giving up on hope just yet. He’s determined to get you in his bed, genuinely deluding himself that it would be a favor to you and him.

“No thanks.” Your voice is blunt as you step toward the entrance of a girls’ dormitories. Satoru’s technically not allowed inside at this late of an hour, but he’d be amused to see who would try and stop him. His family is the top donor of the university. He practically owns this place.

He stands there baffled for a moment as you turn down his date invitation. Rejecting his sexual advances is one thing, but you won’t even give him the time of day.

“So, when can I see you?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed and lips curled into a small pout.

“You’ll unfortunately probably see me in class.” You respond, letting the door close behind you and checking to make sure it locked. Breathing a sigh of relief, you trudge your way up the steps to finally get away from that leech of a man.

Satoru stays at the door for a moment, contemplating following you inside — not for any nefarious reason. He just truly believes that you’d like him if you gave him the time of day. One of his many charming qualities is that he can talk anyone into enjoying his presence.

He had already made up his mind. You’re going to like him. You’re going to sleep with him too and like it, and he’s definitely not going to catch feelings for you so he can make you feel as embarrassed as he did tonight.

He’ll just have to set his plan in motion during class.

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madridfangirl · 3 days ago

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Star crossed lovers (Jude Bellingham fic)

Chapter 16

Jude * female reader. Mature Language in parts.

Synopsis: A chance encounter in a tiny Madrid cafe with the newest superstar of her fav club. The two couldn't be more different, yet both feel the pull toward the other. Would this girl be the one he finally falls for? Or would life come in the way of these star-crossed lovers?

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Ananya stared at the photo without blinking. Consciously trying to figure whether this was real or a cruel nightmare she’d wake up from any second.

When her phone flashed with Roma’s name, she knew she was living her nightmare. There was no escape.

‘Finally.’

Roma’s relieved voice came from the speaker, while Ananya’s eyes were still glued to the photo.

‘Say something girl. Please.’

There was no point asking if Ananya had seen the article and the photos, and that one photo in particular. The deafening eerie silence at the other end was confirmation enough.

‘She’s pretty, isn’t she?’

Roma started pacing around her boyfriend’s living room. This is exactly what she was worried about. That her friend would somehow find a way to take it upon herself, instead of being raving mad at that fucker.

‘No babe, don’t do that to yourself.’

‘Well she is. Very beautiful.’

‘I DON’T FUCKING CARE how she looks or who she is. This is not about her.’

Ananya shook her head ruefully, and spoke in a small, faraway voice.

‘She is just his type.’

Roma wanted to throw her phone at the wall. And Jude out of the window.

Guilt was hitting her in truckloads. And she cursed the moment when she had encouraged Ananya to give this relationship a shot. Moments rather, coz there had been many. She had been #TeamJude every step of the way. Look where it got her friend.

But this wasn’t the time to have her own meltdown. She needed to be strong for Ananya, whose voice & state she was struggling to read presently. Getting her to talk was crucial.

‘Has he called? Has he tried to explain?’

‘He hasn’t called since he left Madrid last weekend. And what’s left to explain in this?’

The article stated specifically that the images had not been tampered with, they had the original & had verified it. There were two eyewitness accounts confirming it too. Who further added that the ‘couple’ were ‘cozy’ and ‘inseparable’ all night. Other than the lip-lock photo, there were a few others of them sitting close to each other in a small group, smiling, having drinks, giggling. The over-familiarity all too visible. This was more than the usual Jude friendliness, no one could convince Ananya otherwise. Not even Jude.

There was nothing left to clarify. Maybe he didn’t even feel the need to. The fact that there wasn’t even a peep from him yet was maybe his way of sending a message. That whatever ‘arrangement’ they had, it was over.

Roma had no logical counter to this, but some instinct was telling her to hear Jude’s side of the story. That is, if he had a side to share and if he had any interest in sharing it. Sadly, Ananya’s reading of it was very much a possibility. Roma had to admit that Jude was capable of it. He moved on quickly from his arrangements, without much care for who or what was left behind. Somehow though, she was convinced that he was different with Ananya. Their interactions over the last 2 months further solidified her belief that Jude genuinely cared for Ananya. How could both of them read him so wrong? Something about it was not sitting right, but the lip-lock photo was staring her in the face. How could she deny that? How could she give any false hope to her friend, when she had already caused her so much pain?

Her friend may not have been showing that pain explicitly, but Roma knew Ananya was falling back on the veneer of logic & practicality in order to hide her vulnerability & heartbreak. The shield was up, guarding her from further hurt.

‘Why didn’t you stop me, Roma? These silly fairytales never work, they always end this way. Why didn’t you tell me he was out of my league?’

‘He is not out of your league. YOU ARE OUT OF HIS LEAGUE. If all he wants to do is fuck those dumb bimbos who run after him 24*7 then to hell with him.’

‘See, you’re doing it again.’

‘I am telling you PLAIN FACTS ANANYA. He was not the catch in this one, YOU ARE.’

Ananya laughed a deeply broken laugh. And Roma wished if she could somehow teleport and be with her friend right now. Her being all alone in that apartment and in Madrid had come at the worst time.

‘He could have at least told me himself. I deserved that much, no?’

Roma fought the urge to curse the living daylights out of that bastard. But something was telling her that despite all this, Ananya still won’t like that.

‘You deserved a lot more. You deserve a lot better than that asshole.’

‘I…wait what time is it in the US right now? Must be way past midnight right?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Go to sleep, Roma.’

‘Rubbish. Talk to me. I’m not leaving you alone.’

‘Actually I kinda want to be alone. You know that’s how I process things.’

‘But…’

‘I’d be here when you wake up. Won’t do something stupid, if that’s what you are worried about.’

‘I don’t like how put together you sound.’

Ananya laughed that distant laugh again. It sounded so bitter and unpleasant to Roma, she never wanted to hear that sound again.

‘Want me to bawl my eyes out? That would be a natural & healthy reaction?’

‘Yes. That’s how I’d know it has hit you.’

Roma responded without missing a beat. She knew Ananya had this internal way of dealing with things but even then this felt messed up.

Ananya didn’t know how to articulate to her friend anymore. The tears were just not coming. The absolute sense of distraughtness and betrayal she should feel right now was just not happening. Maybe, maybe, a part of her always knew this would happen & was prepared for this? Maybe that’s why she was being able to disassociate herself from the situation and look at it so dispassionately?

‘Go to sleep Roma. You’ve been up all night. And remember - don’t contact him at all. No message, no call, just nothing. Don’t say anything to him. Maybe he’s even blocked us by now.’

It was part of his modus operandi. Ananya won’t be surprised.

Roma could see what Ananya was doing. The hurt was making her think of the worst and be prepared for it so even if that happens it doesn’t hurt her further. And Roma couldn’t blame her for acting this way. Because the pictures were damning, as were the eyewitness accounts.

She hated herself for pushing Ananya into his arms. The first date, her hesitation before she slept with him, all of that was dancing in Roma’s head, making her feel responsible for the hot mess her friend was in. Despite being aware of her emotionally fragile state and baggage from her previous relationship, Roma had still urged her to give it a go. Because she herself would have given it a go. But Roma should have thought of what was best for Ananya and not how she would respond to such a situation. She had failed as a friend, and Ananya was paying the worst possible price.

‘I’m so sorry babe. I really am.’

‘Stop that right now. You didn’t know him.’

‘I should have known.’

‘Hindsight is a bitch, ok? And guess what - I actually did know this is how he was. Because he told me. In his own words. With examples. But I still somehow convinced myself that I’d be the girl he’d change himself for. How delusional of me. Men like that don’t change, not really, I should have known. If anything, it’s my fault for still going ahead with it despite knowing everything about him.’

‘How about saying IT’S HIS FAULT? Coz that’s the only fucking thing that’s absolutely undeniable.’

‘Sure.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Look we can say whatever. But he’s not the one getting hurt. Maybe he’s still with…with her….right now. Having the time of his life. The only one responsible for my decisions is me. Can’t expect anyone else to make those calls or hold my hand through those. Especially when I knew everything about him. So you can say whatever and blame whoever but it was my decision and I have to live with it. That’s how it is in life. Ultimately you are on your own.’

‘You’re scaring the shit out of me Ananya. You’re not sounding ok.’

‘Actually I’m quite ok. Thinking clearly & straight. Maybe should have done that earlier but it is what it is. Now go, we’ll speak in a few hours. Don’t worry about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle this.’

Roma had no doubt that Ananya was strong when she needed to be. But there is a time to be strong and a time to have a complete meltdown. She should be having a meltdown right now and not vice versa. But, the best Roma could do in this situation was to be there in whatever approach her friend took.

‘I know you can. I know you will. Talk to you in a few hours, yeah?’

‘Yes. Bye.’

‘Bye babe.’

When Ananya hung up, she didn’t know what to do with herself the next second. Looking at her phone anymore made her pukish. Staying away from it made her anxious. Watching something on OTT or just lying in bed made her dizzy.

Other than Roma, no one else close to her knew about Jude. And she didn’t want to bother her friend beyond a point either. Roma was meeting Chris after 6 long months and it was Christmas for crying out loud. Why ruin it for others just because her life was fucked up right now.

There was no one else to talk to. Which, in hindsight, was a silver lining. No one else would know what a royal fool she had made of herself. She could almost picture her cousin scoffing at her for trying to be in a ‘relationship’ with a playboy footballer who claimed to want to change for her. That only happened in rom-coms, not in real life. Thing is, she knew that. Very well. But still could not resist him. Solely her fault.

The face of that girl kept flashing in front of her eyes - Ananya couldn’t get her out of her head.

Then she did something she wasn’t proud of. That she absolutely should not have done. In a weak moment, she found that girl’s Insta and went through her pics.

She was stunningly beautiful. Perfect features. Perfect figure. Perfect hair. Perfect style. Gorgeous from head to toe. The kind of girl who would look perfect on Jude’s arm. The kind of girl Jude would want to show off to the world. Definitely the kind of girl he’d love to take to bed. Given their history and the fact they were on/off for ~2 years or so, they would have explored pretty much everything intimate together. She would have satisfied Jude in ways Ananya couldn’t even imagine.

It made sense for Jude to want to be with her. To go back to her. It was logical.

Why was it making Ananya’s head spin then?

She couldn’t be alone with her thoughts, not right now. Even roaming the streets in this chilly winter morning was an acceptable alternative. At least it would numb her, in more ways than one. And she set out to do just that.

Unaware of the absolute carnage he had caused, Jude was passed out in his bed. His team had obviously seen the article and images, as had his parents. The strategy was going to be no comment, as always; it would die down in a few days or a few weeks, as was the norm.

Denise knew Jude had returned in the early hours of the morning and no good would come from speaking to him at this time. So no one had bothered to wake him up. His phone was burning up with messages from friends and teammates, but he was too deep in his drunken stupor.

No one in his close circle knew why this would be catastrophic for Jude or unlike any previous tabloid pieces on him. No one other than Jobe.

When Jobe woke up around 9:30 am, from the constant notifications, he stared at his phone in disbelief. Then, he ran to Jude.

Not bothering to knock or anything, he breezed past his brother’s bedroom door to find him face down on the bed. Drooling in his sleep. The clothes & shoes from last night thrown around the room.

Jobe shook his arm. No response.

Then he shook him harder. Jude whined loudly.

‘Go away.’

‘Stop being a brat & wake the fuck up. Right now.’

That got Jude’s attention. Because Jobe rarely took that tone with him.

Rubbing his eyes, still half disoriented, he sat up on the bed.

‘What is it?’

Jobe just threw his phone in Jude’s lap.

And the colour drained from Jude’s face. In real time.

Frozen, wide-eyed, he stared at the photo on the screen. A million thoughts scrambling in his head yet not a single coherent one coming out.

‘Shit. No no no GOD NO.’

Jude looked up desperately at his brother, who was looking back intently with his arms crossed, trying to get a read on him.

‘See the rest of it.’

Jobe said plainly; his tone cutting through Jude’s mumbling sounds.

When Jude did, he almost wished he hadn’t. Every image, every caption more damning than the other. He could see what it looked like. And nothing was as stark as that ‘lip-lock’ thing.

The denial and shock made way to sudden rage at this massive invasion of privacy.

‘It was a fucking private club that charged buttloads for being so. Who the fuck even took these?’

‘So it’s true then?’

Jobe’s posture was neutral, but Jude saw the irritation in his tone.

‘NO. I mean, not all of it. Its….its not what it looks like.’

‘Cut the bullshit & tell me straight. Did something happen with her last night?’

Shoulders dropped in defeat, Jude covered his face with both his hands. Jobe knew him the best. And if even he had to ask this, what hope could he have with her?

‘It’s not what it looks like.’

Jude whispered, almost to himself, swaying from side to side.

Jobe eyed him for a few moments. It didn’t feel like his brother was lying, but he was guilty about something.

‘How would I get her to believe me, Jobe?’

He was still hiding beneath his hands. Hoping for this new reality to just vanish.

‘Do you want to?’

Jude grabbed his hand and pulled his brother down to sit close to him. Then, he flung himself at Jobe and Jobe’s arms came around his shoulders, hugging him back.

‘Please, not you too. You gotta believe me, please.’

‘I’m not the one you need to convince bro.’

Jude looked up at him then, with such hope & nerves that it tugged at Jobe’s heart.

‘I need to know this. Do you believe me?’

A long pause.

‘Yes.’

Jude went back into Jobe’s arms, as the younger boy patted his brother’s back gently.

‘Talk to her. Tell her everything.’

Jobe hadn’t understood what the ‘everything’ was but looking at Jude, he could tell there was more than meets the eye. His brother seemed to have fucked up somehow, just not as much as it looked like.

Jude kept his head buried in Jobe’s chest. He couldn’t seem to catch a break. This couldn’t have come at a worst time. Just when she was starting to….

‘Can you check my phone? See if there’s anything from her?’

He was too anxious to check himself, like there was some finality to it.

‘There’s nothing.’

Somehow, that was even worse.

‘Maybe she hasn’t seen it yet. It’s what, 11 am in Madrid?'

‘She has. I can feel that she has.’

‘Call her then.’

Jude’s fingers hovered over the call button, and finally Jobe clicked it for him.

It rang once. No response. They tried again. No response. One more time. Same result.

‘She’s got a roommate no? Call her maybe?’

Jude knew that if they had talked, then he won’t get a different response from Roma. He’d probably get a worse response in fact.

But he was desperate. So he tried it. Two full rings, nothing.

Then it hit him. During one of the movie nights at Ananya’s place, Roma had mentioned about her Christmas plans. One quick look at her Insta and Jude knew she was back in the US. She had been there all week.

So Ananya was alone in Madrid? All this week? That sucked big time. And he didn’t even realise that. Until now.

He looked at Jobe in despair.

‘Text her. Leave her a voice note. You can’t not do anything.’

When Jude opened his chat window with her, he realised that was all he had done all week. Just texts & voice notes. Brief. Hurried. But there was no time to kick himself. Time was of utmost essence right now.

‘Trying to reach you, dove. Pls call me back.’

Then he went back to staring at his phone, willing her to respond, while Jobe walked around the room, thinking what else could be done here.

One full hour passed. And Jude’s heart sank further with each minute.

Meanwhile, Ananya was taking a long walk on the Madrid streets in the mind-numbing cold. When the chill got too much to handle, she went to a nearby mall and sat at a coffee shop. Initially, the hustle & bustle around her was a welcome distraction. But soon it became unbearable. Happy families, cheerful friends and loving couples. While she didn’t have anyone right now. Their happiness was mocking her. So she took the long walk back home, delaying reaching that place to the extent possible.

Once inside, where she could feel her fingers again, she pulled out her phone & found 3 missed calls + three messages from her supposed boyfriend.

Boyfriend. Yeah right.

She read the first message and scoffed at the nick-name.

The next one had come 15 mins after the first.

‘Missing you. Pls talk to me.’

She scoffed harder at the ‘missing’ part. Last week was surely a unique way of missing her. She looked at the last message finally.

‘Baby I’m worried now. Need to hear your voice.’

This charade needed to end. She needed to rip off this band-aid. Maybe it would even give her some clarity?

Ananya stood in front of the mirror and took a long hard look at herself. She still hadn’t cried yet. Not a single tear. She didn’t know why.

Maybe because she had been an emotional wreck in her last relationship. So much that she couldn’t even recognise herself at times. That had not done anyone any good. She had vowed to be different in this one. To be the voice of reason & logic, not some sobbing little sap.

Was it really not normal? Was Roma right? She didn’t know, but at least this steeled up state put her in a decent space to talk to him and get it over with. To see what kind of story he would concoct. At least she won’t be a mess in front of him. She won’t give him the satisfaction of breaking her.

Just then, her phone flashed with a video call from Jude. She disconnected it & dialled him on audio. Jude nearly dropped the phone when she called back - with relief and with nerves.

‘Oh thank god. I was starting to get worried.’

‘Hmm.’

‘Let me see you, dove? Let’s face-time?’

‘I think this is fine.’

Awkward silence ensued. Ananya had no intention of helping him or giving him any segue. The least he could do was man up and have the balls to admit what he did. She waited for him to get there.

Her aloofness was confirmation enough. She had seen everything. Read everything. Suddenly Jude was at a loss for words. So he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind.

‘It’s not what it looks like.’

And there it was.

‘The photos are doctored?’

‘No, but..’

‘The kiss didn’t happen?

‘It did, but…’

‘Did you sleep with her?’

‘WHAT?’

‘What part of that did you not understand? Did you spend last night with her? Are you still in her bed or on your way back?’

The sheer lack of emotion in her tone made her sound so cold. Distant. It hit him like a whiplash.

Jude had heard a similar voice before, when the earlier tabloid piece had come out. But this was 10x of that. This was his Ananya but not really. It’s like she had locked her emotions away, only letting her brain come to the fore.

‘I’m home, babe.’

‘Oh. Didn’t have a morning tumble then? Thought you really liked those.’

Jude shut his eyes tightly, and ran his spare hand through his hair. Absolutely losing handle on the conversation.

‘Please I’m begging you pls just hear me out ONCE. Please.’

He heard a sharp intake of breath at the other end. A decision had been reached.

‘Fine.’

‘We bumped into each other at a private club yesterday. Hadn’t seen each other in over 2 years so just got talking. Remember, we were friends before we started dating, yeah? She was mostly talking about football and how great it was to see my journey. Then we spoke about some school mates and what they were up to right now. Shared a laugh or two about them. That’s what you see in the other photos. It wasn’t some personal conversation about her & I or our time together. We didn’t go there, I swear.’

‘And yet you magically kissed after that? How amusing.’

Jude sighed deeply. This next part would be a lot harder to navigate, he knew that already.

‘We were drunk. Out of our wits. The lads wanted to go to another club so when we were pushing off, I leaned in to greet her and….kiss her goodbye….on her cheek. In hindsight should not have done that either but hindsight is a bitch. She….she turned her face at the last moment and…it turned into a proper kiss. But I swear I pulled away immediately.’

Ananya laughed that bitter laugh, the one Roma had heard a few hours ago. It turned Jude’s hands cold.

‘So she came on to you? That’s the line you’re taking?’

‘Well that or she was drunk & it was an accident for her too.’

‘I see. Which one do you think it was? Accident or she wanted to kiss you?’

The cold hands suddenly were clammy now.

‘I…I don’t know.’

“Do me a favour & take a guess.’

He knew she could sense the guilt in his voice, hence was doubling down. In a different situation he was capable of straight up lying & getting away. But with her he just couldn’t.

‘I-I think I may have… led her on. It may have looked more to her than what it was.’

Zero response from the other end. Just the sound of her breathing. He took it as a cue to continue.

‘Given our history…and familiarity…our proximity may have given her the impression that I was….interested.’

‘That, and the coziness and the inseparability, yeah?’

‘Don’t believe the tabloid captions, babe. You know what they are like.’

‘I’m gonna believe my eyes. I saw how you were with her. In every photo, not just THAT one.’

‘I swear I didn’t…’

She cut him off, having heard enough of his swears.

‘Why didn’t you tell me immediately? Why didn’t I hear this from you?’

‘It was late. I was drunk. Wasn’t thinking straight. Was still trying to understand what the fuck just happened.’

‘And you didn’t know there was going to be any evidence of it.’

Long pregnant pause. Then a small choked voice.

‘Yes.’

‘Hmm. So your intentions were all holy & pure but she misunderstood them somehow and came on to you and kissed you. And it only happened ONCE but somehow in just that ONE moment there was someone to capture that clear photo. Then you went your separate ways yet you didn’t bother to tell your current girlfriend that this gigantic thing happened with your ex-girlfriend. And now you feel you may have led her on inadvertently. That sums it up?’

‘I know how it sounds. I know how it would have looked to you but baby please trust me I didn’t want anything with her. Not for a second.’

‘So you say.’

‘My friends were with me all night. I can get any of them to talk to you.’

‘As if they haven’t lied for you or covered for you before.’

They had. Many times. Jude had no counter to this.

His desperation was at its peak now. He could feel her slipping away. Rapidly.

‘You know what you mean to me. In your heart you know how precious you are to me. Why would I intentionally do anything to screw that up?’

She scoffed so derisively it cut through his soul.

‘Precious? Sure. That’s why you forgot about me all week, as soon as I was out of sight. And someone else was in sight.’

That was one thought Ananya couldn’t shake. That it wasn’t the only time they had met. Maybe the reason he was so MIA this week was because of that girl.

Jude was distraught. She was landing punch after punch. Every word piercing, laden with truth. And he had no defence to any of it.

‘Why are you talking to me like this? Like you don’t…care anymore. Like it doesn’t matter anymore. Like you’ve already decided I’m guilty and…and…whatever I say makes no difference.’

She refused to humour that with a response. It was self-explanatory according to her.

‘Don’t do this. Please I’m scared. Don’t pull away like this. I don’t know what to do, dove. You know me. You’ve always understood me. Pls one more time, pls try to understand.’

Understanding him was all she had done since she met him. His ways, his lifestyle, his schedules, his highs & lows, his moods, his past.

But not only had he made a mickey out of her feelings, he was also insulting her intelligence now by cooking up this convenient story. That was a double whammy she refused to take.

Her silence was making his pulse go a million miles per second.

He needed her back, right fucking now.

‘Look, once I am back there in a few days it will be fine, ok? We’ll meet and we’ll be together and you’ll realise it was all a big misunderstanding. Can’t wait to have you in my arms.’

She had no interest in being subjected to his seductive charm or manipulative ways again. Just so he could reel her back in.

‘I won’t be here when you return.’

‘Wh-what does that mean?’

‘I have moved up my trip to India, leaving in 2 days.’

‘Whyy? When did you…when are you back?’

‘Don’t know yet.’

‘What about work?’

‘Work from home is allowed under special circumstances. I’ll think of something.’

‘So you’re just going to walk out?’

‘Some distance wouldn’t hurt.’

‘Distance from me?’

‘From everything. But yes, mostly from you.’

That was a bodyblow which made him nearly tumble over in pain and hurt. Disorienting him to the point he didn’t know what he was saying anymore.

‘So you’ll run at the first sign of trouble? Not gonna fight for us? I thought you hated your ex for doing that.’

Boy, was that a low blow. She was fuming. If he were near she could have strangled him with her bare hands. After everything he had done, everything they had been through, every time she had given him the benefit of the doubt, the bastard had the audacity to say first sign of trouble? ‘First’? Like it was her fault they were in this mess. Like she was the one who had cheated.

But why was she surprised? Jude was like any other man, clearly. It was always the girl’s fault. Always.

She won’t give him the satisfaction to get a reaction out of her anymore. He didn’t even deserve her anger.

After a few deep breaths and the burning sting of her nails in her thighs, she recovered.

‘You’re right. I’m the one to blame here.’

‘Can you GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE FOR ONE FUCKING MINUTE and talk like a real person? A person with feelings other than sarcasm?’

Her patience reached its limits.

‘I think we’ve hurt each other enough, yeah? Let’s call it a day.’

‘Are you for real right now?’

‘Are you?’

‘Waittt. Please wait. Pls this can’t be happening. It’s ME. It’s US. How could you walk away from us?’

‘Bye Jude.’

‘NO. NO. Dove please just…’

Her resolve was fast breaking, as was her voice. Despite everything, she couldn’t see him in pain. Not like this.

‘Have a good…good one Jude.’

With that, she hung up.

And all the pent up emotion came flooding out of her eyes.

She cried and cried, falling face down on the bed, clutching the phone to her chest, trying to remember the sound of his voice, because maybe, maybe, this was the last time she had heard it.

Every inch of this house was filled with his memories.

The dining table was where they had their first kiss. The couch had been the place for endless cuddles, cozy dinners and movie nights. The kitchen is where he usually followed her into, as she tried to wrap up some chores or fix them a snack.

Her bedroom was the worst. So many nights cuddled up together, when he came to her post matches or out of city travels. Their first time had also happened here. The desk, the walls just reminded her of the countless times he had backed her against those.

The place smelled of him. She could almost see his face anywhere she looked.

And she ran. To the first decent escape she could find - a movie hall. A random Spanish language movie was playing, but at least she wasn’t in a place that felt like a graveyard of his memories.

She had sworn to herself to not break this time. No, she will be strong through all this. She will not be a weeping mess. She will not let her heart knock her down, not again.

She had been through this once, she was equipped to handle this.

Jude, on the other hand, had no idea what hit him.

This kind of pain he was not familiar with. When you have no control over your life, and your happiness / sanity is entirely in another person’s hands. The sheer helplessness of it completely caught him off guard.

Why did it have to happen now? Just when he was truly giving it a shot. When she was starting to open up to him. Why now?

He wasn’t even sure what exactly had happened, given how quickly things transpired and boiled up.

Jobe came to check on him a few minutes later and found him sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed. He was quiet, far too quiet for Jobe’s liking.

He sat down next to his big brother, and put an arm around his shoulder. Jude leaned into his touch immediately, leaving his body loose against Jobe’s.

‘Didn’t go well?’

Jobe asked softly.

‘It was horrible. Nasty.’

Jude managed to utter, almost mumbling to himself.

‘Tell me what happened.’

Jude gave a summary and Jobe sighed through it. Once done, Jude looked at his little brother for some suggestion. Or some words of comfort. Or both.

But Jobe’s face was telling him what he needed to know. What he knew already.

‘It’s fucked up, isn’t it?’

‘It is bad bro, not gonna lie. But, maybe, give her some time and it’d get better?’

Jude kept shaking his head, staring into a void.

Ten mins passed by and Jude sat like that. Without saying another word. Just leaning into Jobe.

This was new territory for Jobe as well. He had seen Jude through a ton of lows, mostly professional, but Jude took those to heart as well so they turned personal for him.

But the thing with Jude was, he was always expressive. Emotional. Animated. Wearing his heart on his sleeve. Whether he was angry or upset or sad he would still express his emotion passionately.

It was very rare for Jude to get this quiet. The last time he’d been like this was when Dortmund lost the league on the last match-day. Jobe could tell how dire this was for him.

He pulled out his phone slowly and opened his chat window with Ananya. The pair had actually exchanged a few messages this week. Random stuff - books, shows etc.

But what could he say to her? Was it his place to intervene? He had only met her like 9 days ago. Only spent a few hours with her. Would it make things worse if he says anything?

Something in his gut was telling him to still do it, and Jobe believed in following his instinct.

‘Hey. Hope you’re doing ok.’

A few seconds later, he could see her typing back.

‘Hey.’

‘I’m sorry for butting in, I really am, but for what it’s worth I don’t think he’s lying.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I’ve never seen him like this. Ever.’

‘Were you with him last night?’

‘No.’

‘Then you can’t say for sure.’

‘I know it. I can tell.’

‘You love him, Jobe. He’s your brother. I get it that you’d believe him. But I hope you can see why I can’t.’

Jobe didn’t know what to say beyond this. The writing was on the wall. Loud & clear.

Jude was still zonked out. This had gone beyond Jobe’s handling power. He needed the big gun here.

Denise got Jobe’s message and came into the room, finding both her boys sitting on the floor. Air filled with doom & gloom.

Alarmed, she rushed to them and Jobe stood up, letting Denise take his place next to Jude.

Jude immediately melted in Denise’s arms, placing his head on her lap.

She patted him gently, rocking him a little while Jobe filled her in about Ananya.

Denise wasn’t surprised; she had known all along something was different with Jude last few weeks. She had even hinted it to him once or twice but eventually let it be, thinking he’d come tell her when he’s ready. If he’s ready. But she didn’t know it was something deep. Something this deep.

Jude’s face and silence was telling her all she needed to know. About how much that girl meant to her boy.

She ran her hand through his hair, and stroked his shoulder with the other hand. Jude sighed in her lap, near tears. The moment reminded her of how Jude had cried while leaving Birmingham City 3.5 years also. Even then he had been on the floor, while she tried to console her 17 year old who was moving away from home forever.

‘Do you want to make this right, Jude?’

Her tone was loving, but not overly so. Because she knew how heartbroken that girl would be at the other end, far worse than her son. And her son needed to learn that actions have consequences, especially in matters of the heart.

Jude whimpered out a response.

‘Ofcourse, mum. I need her. What do I do?’

‘If you truly want to be with her, then you’d know what to do. Think what she would want you to do right now.’

And instantly, it hit Jude.

Ananya returned late in the evening, and was just taking off her coat, when she heard her doorbell.

Thinking it must be some neighbourhood folks coming to offer her Christmas pudding, AGAIN, she dragged herself to the door.

And found him on the other side. The man of her dreams. The cause of her nightmares. Jude fucking Bellingham was standing at her door, with a bouquet of white tulips in his hand.

...........................................................................................

There you go.

I broke the original idea of the chapter into two - Ch 16 and 17.

Else it was becoming a very long & emotionally draining one chapter.

This should give you more clarity.

As always, would love to hear your thoughts / comments / messages.

#jude bellingham #real madrid #bellingham #jude #jb5 #jb #jude bellingham smut #jude fanfic #bellingham x reader #star crossed lovers #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham blurb #desi girl #jude bellingham angst #jude fic #jobe bellingham

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trender-official · 2 days ago

Text

Whiskey Burns My Throat | Part Two

Sevika x Fem!Doctor!Reader | 3.5k

Part One

She looked up and ran her teeth over her lip. She knew he was going to lecture her. The leather coach squeaked as she sat up. “Yeah. A bit.” Her face contorted for a moment, knowing she shouldn’t be disrespectful, but still angry. She could handle hard, fast pains. But dull aches made her irritable.

Silco frowned sharply. “Don’t lie to me. The shimmer isn't helping, is it?” His voice sounded soft, despite the underlying anger. He cared for her, after all, they had been working alongside each other for years now.

She sighed. She didn't know why she tried to deceive him, in a way, when it’s his whole job to deceive other people. She did know why. She didn’t want him to think she’s weak. She didn’t want to think about that. “No. Hasn’t been for awhile.”

“That’s why you’ve been so eager to fight, then. Come.” He beckoned her over. Willingly, she stood. He may irritate her, but she respected him. She’d do almost anything for him. He ran his hands over her metal hand, then looked up at her. “I graced you with the height of Zaun’s technology. Do not disgrace it by refusing its progression.” He stood. “If it is failing you, fix it. Go see The Doctor.” He let go of her and sat back down. “Don’t make me say so twice.”

Sevika closed her eyes and took a breath. He was right. She was being irrational. Fuck, she was being irrational. She turned away, running her human hand across the mahogany desk. She remembers when he got this. He almost didn’t- Thought it may had been a waste of money. But she told him, “You’d impress investors. And scare them.” He listened. He respected her, as much as she did him. She needed to listen.

She let out one last sigh, maybe to make it clear she wasn’t happy with the decision, before taking her leave and making her way to The Doctor’s house. She was supposed to head there soon anyway to escort her to the tent.

Soon enough, she arrived. It was a small place, maybe 800 sqft, made of various scrap metals and sheets. She leaned against it, her eyes closed as she crossed her arms around her chest, enjoying the moment of silence. She usually waited youtside for The Doctor to come out, not caring enough to knock. It felt… too domestic.

She heard some clanging inside, then the “oh so put together”, well, not so much recently, Doctor came out. Her hair wasn’t in her proper place, usually tied back in a careful ponytail or bun. But it hadn’t been in… A week? Two? Sevika couldn’t remember the last time it was. Sevika didn’t care, to be honest. She didn’t say anything to Sevika, she just looked at her and started off in the direction they usually went. Sevika didn’t care about that, either. In fact, she appreciated it. She’s been much less chatty recently.

It took about four minutes to get to the tent, they’d placed it here on purpose to keep her out of the streets as much as possible. Although, the Doctor had been ignoring that recently and going out at night. At least she went to the last drop, staying within Silco’s reach. Sevika had seen her there a few times, only staying long enough to get a bottle of alcohol and leaving after.

When they reached the tent, Sevika finally spoke up. “I’m gonna be the first patient today.” She said, as she sat down on the cot that functioned as an examination table, which was far too small for her and practically screamed as she sat down.

The Doctor paused, a look of shock coming across her face. “Are you sick?” She asked, putting her bag down and slipping on some gloves. She stepped closer, tentatively, eyeing her face to see if there were any signs of sickness.

“No.” She said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Just… The arm. It’s hurting my shoulder.” She said, once again holding the weight of the metal arm with her other hand. “Shimmer isn’t helping anymore. Don’t wanna take too much either. You know why.”

The Doctor nodded. “Can you remove the arm for me?” She asked, getting close enough to make Sevika want to scoot back. Sevika didn’t say anything, but unlatched the arm and laid it down beside her. She unholstered her gun as well. Just in case she didn’t have the arm to defend them with.

The Doctor leaned forwards, analyzing the area, running her hands along it with a furrowed brow. She reached for the arm itself, and almost immediately she could tell the problem. “It’s too heavy,” she said matter of factly. “It’s putting too much strain on your deltoid- your shoulder” she reached back to gently press on the area, nodding. Then she paused, lost in thought, trying to figure out a way to solve the problem.

Sevika frowned heavily as she fiddled with her. She felt like an animal being tested on. She was used to that- With shimmer and all. But she didn’t like it. When The Doctor paused, she raised an eyebrow. The Doctor’s hand didn’t move, to which Sevika glanced at it. She decided to remove it with a light swipe.

The Doctor didn’t react, her brows furrowed, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Her first idea was letting Silco deal with it. That would be the easiest and less stressful thing to do for herself. But she didn’t like the idea of not knowing what their plan was for Sevikas pain. The thought frustrated her.

Then it hit her. Jayce. Jayce was a friend she made while she was just starting her schooling. They had become quick friends, despite their separate fields. Jayce was an easy person. He was easy to get along with. She heard news of him working with Heimerdinger now, so maybe he could help them!

“Wait-“ she perked up, slamming her fist down onto her open palm. “I have a friend who lives for this stuff. He’s…”

“A topsider.” Sevika finished for her. The Doctor paused, her face falling as the excitement drained a little from her voice. “Yes.. but he’s talented. Extremely so. Let him take a look at it- it’ll be a few hours max.” She didn’t know why she was trying so hard to get her to agree. Maybe to earn brownie points? But why did she care so much about what she thought?

Sevika thought for a second, her jaw twisting in irritation. Having to go all the way up to Piltover- AND deal with pilties who no doubt were going to gloat in front of her with their arrogance… she hated it. Hated this whole situation, hated feeling weak. In need. And most importantly, hated her. But… she couldn’t deny it any longer. She had people to protect here. Silco to protect. And his kid, that Jinx girl, which she hated to admit she held a smidge of affection for. So with a begrudging sigh, she agreed.

They set off, making their way to Piltover, wanting to do so earlier than later. Sevika had tied the tent up before they left, putting a sign that said, “Closed. Come back tomorrow.”

The Doctor stayed unusually quiet the whole ride. She busied herself thinking about what she was to say to Jayce after not seeing each other for so long. She didn’t know how to say she’d left Piltover and became a citizen of Zaun without explaining why, and he couldn’t know why. Silco made that clear.

As time went on, she grew more anxious, her hands squeezing and messing with the material of her pants as she thought of ways to dodge or distract Jayce from asking any questions relating to her disappearance.

But a part of her rationalized her thoughts. He probably didn’t even notice she was gone. It wasn’t like they were best friends; they just kept each other company during their boring schooling days. Once Jayce started working under Heimerdinger, he had gotten busier, and they didn’t talk much, not unless she came to visit him in his lab. And even then they talked about basic things before Jayce got distracted and pulled back into his work. Hextech, she remembered.

She didn’t even notice they had arrived until a large airship zipped through the Hexgate. It made her realize she hadn’t been here since before the Hexgates were created. She’d heard it was a marvel- But to see it here? Right in front of her? It was… Awe inspiring. This truly is The City of Progress. It made her rethink some things.

Sevike snickered behind her. “Amazed?” She asked, her voice holding that patronizing tone to it. The Doctor blushed and looked away, even though she knew there was nothing to be embarrassed about. Sevika had been here many times since the Hexgates were created, running shimmer back and forth for Silco, so the sight was just… Normal to her now. It’s strange, how that happens.

As they made their way to the academy, The Doctor couldn’t help the twist of anxiety brewing in her gut. Sevika was unpredictable, she didn’t know what she’d do or say once they got there, and she really didn’t want to break up a fight, or have any physical altercations between her and the guards. Or even worse; Jayce himself. Jayce was kind, and understanding. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a hot-head. Things set him off pretty easily, which also worried her.

And the thing that bothered her the most was the idea of Sevika not accepting Jayce’s help; that she’d be in pain until Silco could find someone in Zaun to fix up her arm. It confused her, and irritated her all the same. Why should she care if Sevika was in pain? She was a grown woman after all. Not a very nice one either.

Finally, they arrived inside. Some people gave them a wary and uneasy look, while others downright glared at them, as if to say “You don’t belong here. Go back to the Undercity”. The Doctor frowned. She had never gotten those looks before. She, unconsciously, moved closer to Sevikas side. It was true that she felt safe with the bigger woman. Who wouldn’t? After all, Sevika didn’t look bothered.

The Doctor asked around, inquiring about Jayce’s whereabouts. She was met with a lot of suspicion, but she eased their concerns with smooth talking, and stories of their college days, proving she had a legitimate tie to the man. Once they had their directions they were off, and in time they found his workshop.

The Doctor raised her fist to knock, when the door opened. A man she didn’t recognize stood there with a tilted head. “Hello?” He said with a strange accent.

“Um- Hello!” The Doctor started, “I’m here for Jayce…” she shifted nervously on her feet.

“I’m sorry, he’s not taking meetings today, would you like to leave your names?” He said monotonously. He seemed to do this often. And he didn’t seem bothered by Sevikas stark presence behind her.

“Oh- but-“

Suddenly the smaller man was nudged, making an irritated sound leave his throat as jayce appeared above him.

“What are you doing here?!” Jayce asked excitedly, pushing past the shorter male, his arms instinctively reaching to hug The Doctor. His hands snaked onto her lower back, squeezing; A familiar, practiced motion.

“Jeez!” The Doctor laughed, her arms returning the hug quickly, her head being shoved into his chest. He was just about the same height as Sevika.

“Careful or you’re gonna kill me before I even tell you why!” The Doctor teased as Jayce pulled back, his eyes bright, excited. He looked good, face bright, but still equipped with the eyebags that came with being a scientist.

“Right, right.” Jayce pulled back, his hands still on the small of her back. “Well come in-! I have much to show you!” he took her hand, pulling her inside the workshop.

The unnamed man stood behind them, a hip popped out to the side with a grumpy looking face. The Doctor couldn’t tell if he was simply leaning on his cane or being sassy…

“Before we start I think introductions are needed.” The Doctor looked happy, a genuine smile on her face as she gestured to the man and Sevika behind them. “I know how you get when you get into things, Jayce.” There it was again, that familiarity.

Sevika wanted to glare at him. She wanted to scare him away- Make him stop asking questions. But she knew how to play this. She wasn’t a stupid woman. She faked a smile, strained and thin, still intimidating despite it, and stayed silent.

In return, Jayce just rolled his eyes playfully at The Doctor, before nodding to Sevika, returning the same smile, it being a little bigger than hers. He turned quickly, and gestured to the man leaning on his cane. “This is Viktor. He’s been my partner while working under Heimerdinger.”

The Doctor nodded in acknowledgment. “Hello, Viktor. I’m a friend of Jayce’s from the academy.” she stuck her hand out to shake.

“Oh!” Viktor’s eyebrows shot up. “Uh. Hello.” He said, taking her hand gently. His hands were bony, his fingers long. He didn’t know how to shake a hand well, he simply laid his hand in hers and let her guide it. He sounded uncomfortable, but not negatively. Simply, in a new situation. The Doctor guessed he likely didn’t get much positive attention from topsiders, based on his reaction, so she put in extra effort to lightly cup his hand and smile as she shook it. He must be from the lower city. Or perhaps it’s because of his disability? She didn’t know, but her heart ached just a little for him.

After she pulled her hand away she turned towards Sevika. “This is Sevika. A…” she paused, not really sure what to call her. She decided on the simpler method. “A friend of mine. We met at a bar a few months ago.” She introduced.

Jayce took no time in raising an eyebrow, his mouth turned into a teasing smile. “Right.. a friend” He said, his voice dipping low. He knew The Doctors type, they did go to the academy together after all. Nights of parties and bar hopping, they had learned each-others type in people. And Sevika? She was definitely her type. Not to mention, The Doctor never brought people to meet Jayce. It was all too suspicious.

Sevika recoiled, looking The Doctor up and down. “Her?” She snorted. “No. Just friends.” Even that felt strange in her mouth. Referring to this woman as anything but a nuisance was wrong. Although, Sevika wouldn’t be surprised if The Doctor was into her. Honestly, a night or two with her wouldn’t be terrible. Sevika wasn’t new to hate sex- But anything else? Pure insanity.

The Doctor herself sputtered, caught off guard. Sevika and her? The thought made her cheeks warm, her heartbeat increasing.

Jayce’s other eyebrow shot up, with his hands as he backed away. “Sure, sure… Sure.” He said with a shrug. “I won’t push.” He said, with a wink. He turned away, his neck straining to look at them behind him. “Come on! I’ll show you the lab. You can tell me why you’re here.”

They made their way inside, Jayce showing off his recent discoveries, though not going into too much detail. He would stop and move on whenever Viktor gave him that warning look- the look of they don’t need to know this.

Finally they settled, taking seats at one of the bigger desks near the back. “So, not that I mind you visiting, but why are you here?” Jayce asked, absentmindedly helping Viktor into the chair next to him, like he’d done it a million times. He didn’t even take his eyes off of hers as he did it.

That had The Doctor raising an eyebrow, but she stored it away for later. She wasn’t one to ask those types of questions in front of others.

“Sevika’s arm has been giving her some trouble. It’s too heavy for her muscles to handle for such a long period of time. Do you think you could take a look and see if there’s anything you can do to remove some of the strain?” She asked them, her voice now poised and Doctor-like.

Jayce blinked, “… that’s it?” He asked, almost shocked. “I thought it’d be something way more complicated. Sure, put it here.” He patted the spot in front of him.

“Show off…” She muttered, and looked back to Sevika expectantly. Sevika wanted to sigh heavily but she restrained herself. She waddled over to the area, gripping her arm and lifting the weight off.

“Just… be careful.” She said grumpily before allowing Jayce to touch her. “It’s delicate.”

“I will be.” Jayce smiled, gentle but large fingers gracing her skin. He looked back to her for approval, receiving it hesitantly, before lifting her arm. He ran his hands over the seam, and her harness. “There seems to be some pressure points here, probably causing some pinching.” He ran his hand over her arm, examining the mechanisms. “How is this powered? There’s no way you could charge something like this in the undercity with basic power lines.”

The Doctor stiffened, honestly unsure if they should tell Jayce. On one hand, being honest would make sure they got everything fixed. On the other hand… she wasn’t sure how he’d react to Sevika using shimmer. It didn’t exactly have the best reputation…

But before she could speak Sevika did for her. “What do you think?” She asked gruffly. She looked down at the floor, her gaze slowly trekking up his body.

His eyes widened, backing away. He looked to The Doctor as if she’d have a different answer. She simply stumbled over her words, then looked down and bit her lip. “I…” He said. “Shimmer? You have me working on shimmer tech?” He said with a laugh of disbelief. “You can’t- You’re against shimmer! You know what it does!” He stood up, his chair flying out from under him, screeching as it slid back.

Viktor tried to quickly stand, but fumbled, falling back into the seat. “Jayce-“ He started.

“No. Viktor, I can’t work on something running on that.” He pointed a finger at him, then at Sevika. “And I want her out of my lab.” He frowned, looked her up and down, then turned and made his exit.

“That went as well as I thought it would.” Sevika mumbled with a scoff. The Doctor sighed, seeming used to it.

“Can’t tell you how many doors we had to replace in his dorm room.” She grumbled.

Then she turned her focus to Viktor. “I’m sorry we caused a stir. I hope he’s not like that often with you. Let me know if I need to have a discussion with him about minding his temper.” she seemed.. pissed, her eyes narrowing. It was, admittedly, hot, Sevika thought. But that thought was quickly squashed.

Viktor huffed a laugh. “You know him. He’s… Passionate.” He stood slowly, balancing on his crutch. “But… You should know, I am as talented as Jayce.” He placed a hand on The Doctor’s shoulder. “Meet me here. Tonight. We will talk.” He smiled at her and continued on, hobbling out the door. Presumably to follow Jayce.

The doctor grinned to herself. It seems as if Jayce found someone that could keep up with him and then some. Good. He needed someone like that. She watched him leave, her hip cocked a bit.

She turned to Sevika, “Well, that solves that.” She said, offering a pleasant smile to her, hoping to receive back… well, praise, if she was being honest with herself. It’s what she thrived off of, what kept her working so hard, being noticed and appreciated by others. Well, that and improving people’s lives of course.

“Damn. I didn’t expect the little guy to go against him.” She said with a laugh. “Good for him.” She stood up, giving The Doctor a pat on the head. “Good job not entirely fucking up.” She said with a slight smirk. That was the best she was gonna give.

The walk back to the undercity was distinctly not in silence, unlike before. The Doctor seemed rejuvenated, and Sevika couldn’t tell if it was because she got to see Jayce, or if it was due to herself. Part of her wished for the later, which irritated her.

When they parted ways, Sevika made her way to the brothel again. Distinctly looking for a woman, Clara, who may look distinctly similar to The Doctor.

#arcane #no arcane spoilers #sevika x you #sevika x reader #sevika #arcane sevika #arcane x you #arcane x reader #arcane fic #x reader #reader #aarons-fics #cowritten with migi

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dekariosclan · 2 days ago

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Thinking about God Gale again…(especially since you made a great point about how he still loves you as a god! Which is so good and SO ANGSTY!) You may or may not be able to answer this, but I’d love to hear your thoughts: do you think God Gale would give up his godhood to be with a mortal Tav again? Would his love for Tav overcome his need for immortality and feeling like “he’s enough” as the God of Ambition?

As always: thank you for the wonderful meals about our boy 🙏 Dekarios the Divine bless you

OH DEAR GODS AN ANGSTY ASK

(ok, ok. I can do this. keep it together *hyperventilating into paper bag* just act normal goddamnit—)

Greetings fellow human! Hi! Thank you for this lovely ask, and rest assured that I am an extremely normal person who can totally handle emotional discussions about pixel people! NO I’M NOT CRYING—

Do I think God Gale would give up his godhood to be a mortal with Tav again?

Yes, I do—but only if he was able to be self-aware enough to realize that Godhood was not making him feel as happy or as content as Tav’s love did. Then his scholarly mind might finally begin to question what in the heavens he’d been thinking by giving that up just for ‘divine power’ which, as it turns out, really isn’t all that ‘divine.’

Would his love for Tav overcome his need for immortality and feeling like “he’s enough” as the God of Ambition?

The problem is that Godhood changes Gale (as it would change anyone) from a self-aware mortal to a divine being who can no longer relate to human experiences, including the passage of time. So while it’s confirmed that Gale still loves Tav, that love is now buried under weight of Gale’s hubris and godly ambitions, which would be very hard to overcome.

I know Raphael has the ending monologue where he predicts that Gale will eventually tear apart the pantheon, BUT, I personally don’t take that at face value as a guaranteed outcome. That speech reeks of sour grapes to me, and Raphael just being the smug bastard that we all know and love, so I think it’s less ‘Raphael’s Guaranteed Prediction’, and more ‘Raphael’s Fantasy Fanfiction’. Is it still possible? Sure, and I think if Gale did not romance Tav and did not get to experience their love then it is probably a more likely possibility.

But if Gale did romance Tav, then what I think is the tragic and more probable outcome is that Gale would eventually ‘wake up’ and realize that Godhood is not all that it’s cracked up to be, and decide to return home to Faerun and to Tav—but so much time has passed (and he did not realize it) that Tav and everyone he loved has now passed away.

AH GOD THE ANGST HURTS MY SPLEEN

But let’s focus on the GOOD outcome of him giving up Godhood and doing it in time to be with Tav again. It would be hard, and it would require Gale to REALLY overcome his insecurities and his pride, but I do think it is possible. Just looking at Gale’s ‘Godly Form’ you can see literal cracks in his exterior. He is not 100% unbreakable.

I still think at least a decent chunk of ‘human time’ would have to pass—we’ll say five years or so—before he would come to the realization.

And then one day (assuming Tav had not moved on and found new love) they would open their door, and—

“Hello,” Gale said, softly.

Tav blinked, for a moment trying to find their footing as their entire world spun out from under them.

“…Dekarios the Divine?” Tav asked, uncertainly. Gale’s clothes were simple robes, his skin no longer glowing with divine power. He looked almost as he had in Tav’s dreams, in all of their memories of when he’d still been a mortal.

Only this man’s eyes were much, much more tired. And filled with regret.

“No…I’m just plain old Gale Dekarios now. A most brilliant wizard of intentionally limited reknown.” He reached out, hesitantly, and took Tav’s hand in both of his.

For a moment they both stood silently, relishing the warmth of each other’s touch.

“Apologies. I hoped I’d be better at this.”

A smile was beginning to pull at Tav’s lips, even as their eyes filled. “At introductions?”

“At begging for your forgiveness.”

————— *One additional note: I simply must add that @lady-sapphyre wrote this excellent fic that tackles Gale giving up Godhood and I highly recommend it!

#here I go crying into my coffee while on Galemancer tumblr again!!#Just another normal morning lmaoo #Thanks for the ask anon!! it was a good one and I need to toughen up dammit LOL #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale x tav #galemancer #god gale #baldur's gate 3 #answered ask

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cottoncalicoes · 2 days ago

Text

But I’ll wait for you

- Eren Yeager x AFAB!Reader • Word Count: 1.0k -

content warnings: cunnilingus, eren is extremely disgustingly in love with you, tried to keep it as gn as possible but he does refer to reader as “my girl” one time so there’s that. so pissed off i wrote this he doesn’t deserve a banner. don’t even look at me or say anything. hate this man.

Eren’s purposeful in everything he does; but there’s a certain reverence he exudes when it comes to you. Every touch, every word, every kiss, hug, fuck. You’re a gift sent from above, and what is he if not your humble admirer.

His eyes never stray far from you. It was almost intimidating at the beginning of your relationship. The way he looks for you in everything he sees. It’s normal to you now, to be in a crowded room only to search for a sea already submerged in you. He always winks cheekily at you, never breaking contact even when you do. He’s all encompassing. Always near.

“Angel.”

Despite his hushed tone you still jump at the sound, snapping your book shut before looking at him.

“Eren,” your hand rests on your chest to still your beating heart, “you scared me.”

“M sorry, baby,” he apologizes (though you both know he isn’t truly sorry).

He pulls his clothes off to join you in bed, tossing them on the floor before he feels your pointed stare and picks them up to toss in the laundry bin.

“How was your night?”

He groans, pushing your book away (pouting when you laugh at his childishness).

“It was alright, missed you the whole time.”

He nudges his head against your hand in a silent command to run your fingers through the dark tresses, humming in contentment when you scratch at his scalp.

“You saw me two hours ago, spent all day with me. Need I remind you,” your fingers twist absentmindedly at the band holding his hair up, setting it to the side so you can comb out the knots.

“Don’t care,” he mumbles into your stomach petulantly, “would have rather been here doing this.”

You roll your eyes at his words, caressing his cheek.

“Don’t say that,” you chide, “you know you love Armin and the rest of them.”

“You’re always so soft on him.”

You laugh at his words, though he says you’re terrible for it, you love to tease him most when he’s like this.

“Have you seen him? How could I not. He’s a little angel.”

As expected he pouts at your words, biting at your side in retaliation.

“Take it back.”

“Fine,” you relent (easily, as you always do with him), “I take it back.”

Baby fat still clings to his cheeks despite the way the rest of him toned out; harsh edges and rippled muscle. It used to bother him until you told him how much you’d loved it (how much it reminded him of when you were both young; snot nosed kids digging into the dirt, screams of joy falling from your lips when you’d chase him with worms to make him squeal).

“Let me taste you.”

You huff at his words, putting up a front though you’ll know he’ll get his way. He always does, always has. You used to make fun of him when you were young about how spoilt he was, despite it all you couldn’t deny your enabling. How could you not when his plush lips pouted down at you?

“I have work in the morning, Eren.”

He pulls away from your warmth with a whine, and you do little to stop him when he maneuvers you the way he likes.

“The skies blue, the leaves are green, and I want to make you cum.”

“Eren.”

“Sorry, are we done listing obvious things?”

You laugh loudly at his words, and pride soars throughout his body.

“Technically the sky is black right now. It’s nearly one in the morning.”

It’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, huffing at your difficulty before your panties are shucked across the room.

“Trying to play coy when your cunt is dripping for me right now,” he says with a smirk as he spreads your legs, “naughty thing.”

You open your mouth to quip back at him, but it gets caught in your throat when his tongue runs up your heat from root to stem, sucking your clit in his mouth before pulling off with lewd pop.

“You’re my girl aren’t you?”

You nod quickly at his words, hands grasping at his hair as he descends on you again.

“Say it,” he demands, “say you’re my girl.”

“I’m your girl, Eren.”

“Then let me make you cum for me.”

You know Eren’s obsession with eating you out is more for him than you, always waiting to get his fill before he focuses and makes you cum the way you like.

Eren groans into your heat when your thighs snap closed against his face, his hands moving to paw at your chest. Practiced movements having you crying out for him, hips bucking into his touch when his tongue fucks into your dripping heat.

It never takes long when he has you like this. Soft, pliant. Wrapped in his shirt with the smell of him encasing you; his mark littered across you in every way he can imagine.

“Don’t hold back, angel,” he pinches at your nipples, grinding himself into the bed below, “cum for me, let me have it.”

Eren loves everything about you; from the way you add hearts to your i’s to the scrunch of your face when you’re angry. But the sound of his name falling from your lips when you fall apart for him has to be one of his favorites. You gasp and whine and plead (though there’s no need really, he’d give you the world and more if only you’d ask).

A cry of his name and you’re cumming on his tongue; hips bucking wildly to chase the friction.

He laps at your release until he’s had his fill, dopey eyes staring up at you from where he rests between your thighs.

Your chest heaves with labored breaths, hands covering your eyes as you return to him.

“You’re insane.”

“I am,” he agrees easily, “but that’s what you love about me, right?”

He already knows your answer, but you appease him nonetheless.

“Yeah, it is.”

a/n: just. don’t. i’m so embarrassed rn i hate him im so pissed that i want him rn you don’t understand.

#writing.aot #cottoncalicoes #eren x reader #aot x reader #eren yeager x reader

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xoxochb · 17 hours ago

Note

hardcore breeding with jason grace?

happy thanksgiving n goodnight.

cw: unprotected piv, breeding kink, overstim, I say ‘fuck’ an unnecessary amount of times, and unfortunately the brick jokes are apart of me now

——— ౨ৎ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

that’s a look inside of your brain in your current moment. it’s not that you want jason to stop thrusting his cock in and out of you— definitely not, gods. but you’re sure if he doesn’t you’ll die at any given moment with the way you’re overly-filled up with him. and you knew that regardless if you told him to stop (which both of you know for a fact wouldn’t be happening) he wouldn’t until you took his memo.

which was, unfortunately, that he was going to put a baby inside your tummy. and he repeats this like a prayer, an oath, like he’s swearing on everything holy that he will do it too. hot tears stream over your pink cheeks, seeping through your bruised lips so all you taste is that salty liquid you’ve grown familiar with during these circumstances.

he’s trying to kill you and there’s no doubt about that.

your nails dig viciously into the skin of his biceps, surely leaving a mark for him to remember this tomorrow. and with that remembrance there’s no uncertainty in your mushy brain that he would see them and want to do this all over again.

you, seeing him, electric blue eyes veiled with lenses, the blondest hair, and holy shit his arms— you’d do anything if he asked you to. even if it meant allowing him to overstimulate you until you’re on the verge of passing out from utter pleasure and pain.

harshly, you feel your climax creeping upon you, it’s an aching feeling you desire more of— need it like oxygen perhaps. you hear as jason’s gentle voice reminds you yet again of his intentions with you. at this point you hope he does it.

“‘m gonna put a baby in you… gonna be so pretty with my baby in you…”

“please, jase- ah- gonna…” you take a moment to search your fuzzy brain for the words. “gonna come.”

you attempt to to buck your hips into him to hopefully reach your peak, that, or either shove his cock further into you to prolong this feeling for as long as humanly possible.

“gonna come for me?”

uhm… well, yes. you can’t find a coherent word to respond with so instead, you rapidly nod your head. jason isn’t as happy with the silence as you are.

“use your words, angel.”

fuckkkkkk.

verbally this time, you respond with a breathed out ‘yes’ and with this, your orgasm hits you like a sack of bricks, you violently tug at his blond locks as you cry out.

fuck fuck fuck. these sheets are so fucked.

#xoxochb #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #jason grace imagines #jason grace pjo #jason grace smut #jason grace #jason grace x reader #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #riordanverse x reader #riordanverse #riordan universe #percy jackson x reader

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itsnathateasy · 3 days ago

Text

aot characters reacting to “i read about us in tarot”

warnings: none word count: 3,1k includes: armin, jean, connie, hange, mikasa, erwin a/n: sometimes, all you need is a confirmation from the universe, right?

“Pass me the sugar, please?” Armin asked in his polite tone. This was your third date with him and your bond and chemistry kept getting better and better. “Here you go! So, what were you saying about that new theatre show?” you questioned as you handed him the sugar bowl. He added two table spoons of sugar in his tea, stirring it thoroughly while maintaining eye contact with you. “I almost forgot! It’s an adaptation of the little prince but with dancing! Should be so much fun! Do you maybe wanna go with me?” you couldn’t keep your smile from spreading across your face as Armin suggested that you go on one more date. “Sounds great actually! I’d love to go!” you said, extending your hand to connect it with his over the table. Armin returned the gesture, softly rubbing circles with his thumb on your outer palm. “You know, it’s so weird. We’ve known each other for ages, yet I never imagined we’d be getting along so well together romantically, you know?” he admitted with a small, almost shy smile. “Okay, don’t mock me, but I kind of had a sign...” you said awkwardly. “What kind of a sign?” he arched his eyebrow at you, now holding your palm in both of his as you giggled with the confession you were about to make. “You know how Historia reads tarot?” if Armin could arch his eyebrow any more, he definitely would. “Do go on” he said in an intrigued voice. “Well, she read that there’s a fair man in my life – this was just after our first date – and she found out that he is very interested in me but it’d be more and more obvious as time progresses” you trailed off with your recollections of the tarot reading, patiently waiting for Armin’s reaction. Armin huffed in fake annoyance. “Well, that checks out. Historia kept mentioning that “fair man” that was oh so interested in you, I had to ask you out on a second date as soon as possible! Couldn’t risk it!” You laughed in unison, finding it cute how your mutual friend had read about the two of you in a deck of cards. After a while, Armin returned to the topic. “Hey, y/n… Had you ever told Historia about crushing on me?” You were taken aback. “Of course! Historia knew about you from the start. What’s wrong with that?” Armin’s eyebrows were furrowed. “Nothing wrong, just thinking. Cause I’d told her about crushing on you too...” “You’re not insinuating she planned this?” You asked, surprised that you’d ever come to such a conclusion. “Insinuating, no. I’m blatantly stating it. The little lady set us up!” (“Are you upset Historia set us up?” “Honestly, this was the best thing she’s ever done, y/n” he said and kissed your temple.)

Jean doesn’t believe in tarot and he’s made it his life mission to convince you as well. To him, it was a shame that an educated and well-informed person as you would ever resort to reading tarot. “What’s wrong with it, Jean? Even if it isn’t true – which it very much is – haven’t you read about all the cognitive benefits of picking up such a hobby? Can you even imagine the amount of brand new synaspes my brain is creating?” He simply looked back at you, one eyebrow raised, refraining from responding. “It means I’m actively getting smarter and all you do is talk down on my new skill. Will you let me practice on you now or are you going to keep on glooming about getting your cards read?” You said, only half annoyed. “Fine, y/n… Do go on. I want my cards read” you giggled at his surrender. As you were turning upwards the cards he’d picked out, Jean was observing you, your swift movements, how your irises grew wider with each symbol you recognised. “You’ve been dealt quite the cards Jean. Let me check the manual once more” you said, shuffling through the pages. “Still haven’t got the hang of it? What about your synapses?” He said and chuckled at you, still not averting his gaze from you. “With these many cards, it’ll take me a while… Look, you’ve got the lovers. A deep connection and unity between two people… And the two of cups! Mutual love and – possibly – soulmates? Whoa Jean! I’m assuming you’ve confessed to Mikasa, right?” You noticed how his face changed into the most surprised expression you’d ever seen. Furrowing his eyebrows, he opened his mouth once to speak, but said nothing. After a few seconds, while you were trying your hardest to read his face, he finally spoke again. “Uhm, y/n, why would I confess to Mikasa? I’ve literally nothing to say to her, except for maybe small talk at parties.” It was now your turn to be surprised by his response. “You’re not for real, Jean. Everybody knows you like her! The cards said so too!” You said and motioned to the spread cards laying between the both of you on the table. “Y/n...” he said and rubbed his hand all over his face, finally resting it in a fist on his chin, partially covering his mouth. “You’ve got this whole thing wrong, y/n” “How have I got it wrong? You’ve asked her out in the past and she rejected you?” Jean was facepalming so hard at your question. After taking a breath or two, he finally sat up properly and faced you, body completely aligned with yours. “Y/n, all these cards I pulled... Not a single one of them is referring to Mikasa. And this one – the two of cups, was it? - I was about to ask you out. That’s the new relationship, hopefully.” He said as he pointed at the vibrant card in front of him. “I was just… Waiting for the right moment… Didn’t wanna blurt it all out of nowhere… It sucks that you think that this whole time I’ve had my eye on Mikasa, cause it’s far from the truth.” Jean’s confession was unexpected, but more than welcome. “Jean… Honestly PHEW!” You said in a loud voice, sweeping invisible sweat from your forehead with a dramatic move. “Phew as in…?” He questioned, not quite catching your drift yet. “Phew because… I’ve had MY eye on you for who knows how long… I never initiated anything cause I thought you had things going on with Mikasa. I’m relieved to find out this isn’t the case.” You looked over at him, a serene smile was plastered on his face, his hand extending to reach yours. “So… Wanna go out some time?”

“Shouldn’t have done that, y/n sweetheart” Connie said as he laid his reverse card on the pile between you on the couch. “Ugh, how come you always get me so bad? Uno’s supposed to be my turf...” you exhaled, disappointed by the fact that you had to draw more cards. “And with this” Connie said playing one more card “I’m out! I’ve officially defeated your sorry ass!” Connie celebrated his victory by triumphantly marching all around your coffee table, hands in the air. “I can never catch a break with you” you protested, letting your weight fall on the back of the couch. Connie noticed how you were not celebrating along with him (his audacity is immeasurable) and quit his marching to crouch next to you. “Hey, hey… No need to feel sad. It’s a compliment to have the best uno player as your boyfriend!” he explained, softly poking your cheek with his index finger over and over again. “Cut it out!” you yelled, laughing at him while trying to push his hand away. “And… Consider this: Whoever loses in card games, wins in love. Isn’t this what they say?” He questioned, waiting for your response as he was now poking your belly with both of his indexes. “Speaking of which” you said in between fits of laughter, attempting to escape him by moving further away on the couch. “I think I read about you in tarot, but like… A few weeks before we started dating”. Thankfully, your statement intrigued him enough to get him to stop his relentless poking. “Seriously? Had we met yet?” “No, not yet. It was a few weeks before Sasha introduced me to you. But I’d seen photos of you so I don’t know, I may’ve been biased by your cute face!” You said and gave him a bright smile, but Connie only stood up from his spot to scream at the top of his lungs “NO SHIT BECAUSE I READ ABOUT YOU TOO!”. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction. “What are you talking about, Connie?” “Okay, listen” he said and sat back next to you again. “The week before we met, I was so tired of Jean and Sasha bugging me about not wanting to meet any of Sasha’s friends – I didn’t know about you yet, I’m sorry babe – and so we all went to this fortune teller, who told us all about you and our date and, wait, REMEMBER WHEN YOU SPRAINED YOUR ANKLE ON THE WAY HOME FROM OUR FIRST DATE? SHE’D TOLD US ABOUT THAT AS WELL AND THEN I TOLD JEAN AND SASHA AND THEY SAID I’D MADE IT UP AND DIDN’T BELIEVE ME UNTIL MOVIE NIGHT A FEW DAYS LATER AND-” “CONNIE CALM DOWN!” You half yelled, while giggling the entire time. “Please, take a breath, you’re giving me a headache!” Eventually, he did calm down, and sat on top of you. “So… Reckon we were meant to be?” he snuggled his face closer to yours, sneaking small pecks here and there. “No, you were meant to be and I was meant to keep losing to you in card games!” You exclaimed in fake annoyance. “NOW YOU DON’T MEAN THAT Y/N!”

“And what do you think this means, Hange?” you questioned the brunette as they drew one more card out of the deck. “Wait, let me check… I’m still new to this tarot thing...” As they browsed through the deck manual, the corner of their tongue was pursed between their lips. “So, y/n, you got the hanged man… Or woman… This deck assumes everyone’s gender I guess...” “Hange… You’re trailing off” you said and giggled as they returned your gaze. “I’m just saying, y/n. You can’t just assume people’s gender or their sexuality, it’s not right”. They looked kind of disappointed as their eyes skimmed the page referring to the hanged man. “I know Hange, but I came here so you could practice tarot, remember?” “Alright, alright” they surrendered. “So, as I was saying, the hanged PERSON” - you couldn’t hold back your giggle – is all all about sacrifice, new perspectives... waiting for the right time… But that’s boring y/n… I suggest that you screw the right time, and go for it instead. And as the great Herman Melville said “He who hesitates is lost”. Or she. OR THEY!” Hange threw their hands up in frustration, letting the manual off of their hands. “Are you quoting Herman Melville or Lemony Snicket? You’re confusing me!” You both laughed at your comment, Hange touching her stomach in an attempt to contain themselves. “Either way, y/n… You know, tarot is really fun, but more often than not, waiting for the right time is pointless. The right time never comes and one’s never ready. I don’t know what this stalling refers to in your life, but it kept coming up in your reading. If there’s a situation where you need to take action, just do it. And when you do, call me up so you can spill the tea, you know?” Hange stretched their palms on the table, collecting the cards you’d both pulled out of the deck and tidying them into a neat brick, before enclosing the deck in its colourful paper box again. Once they’d put everything away, your mind was made up. “Okay Hange. So, enough with the stalling, right?” “It’s the best advice I can come up with, y/n. And as your only and BEST fortune-teller slash advisor slash best friend, I do suggest you act upon… Whatever you need to act upon.” They said as they put the deck back into their bag. “Okay, listen” you said and inhaled deeply. “Y/n… Is something wrong?” “No, no, just… Listen, okay? Don’t ask me how I know but I know you like me and I like you too and do you wanna go on a date sometime?” You blurted in a single breath as Hange was left frozen opposite you on the table. “I can’t believe Levi spilled the beans, oh he’s in for a real treat!” they said, clenching their fists. “Is that a yes or a no, Hange?” You insisted, eyes steadily focused on them, pulling them back to reality. “It’s a yes, y/n, of course it’s a yes. Can the date be punch-a-bag? Cause Levi’s asking for a beating!” “Okay, but wear something nice? I’ve made reservations at a restaurant” you explained while getting up to make your leave. “How did you know I was gonna say yes? And where are you going?” “Gotta warn Levi! See ya!” you waved goodbye and made your way out before Hange could stop you.

“Please tell me this is a joke, y/n” Mikasa sighed as she averted her gaze from your phone screen to you. She’d already had enough of your teasing today and you trying to explain how your friend Historia had predicted Mikasa and you would end up together was the final drop. “You never take me seriously, Mikasa… This reading was so OBVIOUSLY about you, I HAD to film it for this exact occasion! Just listen to how Historia mentions that “Mikasa will never believe this, even if you show her after it happens”… You can’t tell me the reading isn’t accurate!” You pouted, hoping that Mikasa would come around and admit to your friend’s tarot reading skills. “It doesn’t matter if it’s accurate, y/n, cause it’s not real! You can’t be serious about basing our entire relationship on a deck of fancy cards?” You taken aback by her comment and felt like your hurt showed. The reading Historia had given you all those months ago was what fuelled you to - finally - ask Mikasa out. “Hey, y/n, I… I didn’t mean to upset you...” She reached for your arm, but you pulled away. Collecting your thoughts as best as you could, you eventually managed to speak. “Those fancy cards gave me the confirmation I needed to pursue you at the time. You were always so distant, I never knew what you were thinking. But everything that Historia told me, gave me the boost to ask you out...” You sneaked a peek at Mikasa, who was now also wearing her mouth upside down and lingering akwardly back and forth. “Besides, you said it yourself. You never wanted to cause trouble in our friend group and had no intention of asking me out, even though you liked me. So, yeah, those fancy cards were a big deal. And the video you wasted so much time shitting on was the match that started the fire. Blame me for believing in the occult I guess, but don’t say our entire relationship has been based on a lie, cause it was that “lie” that started it all...” Mikasa waited, unsure of how to respond to your speech. “The only right thing to say is I’m sorry, y/n. I was insensitive. This was clearly important to you… Can we conclude this fight now and watch the rest of the video? I think Historia was about to explain something I’d do on our first date” She trailed off shyly. Your lips perked up just a tiny bit, and that was all the answer Mikasa needed as you scooted closer to her on the couch. As she wrapped her arm around you she spoke again. “Actually, y/n, play it from the start. I should pay proper attention to the reading this time!”

Folding his paper in half and softly laying it on the kitchen table was your cue that you were in trouble. “You did… What exactly? I didn’t quite catch that, y/n” Your breath hitched as you moved further from the sink and closer to him. His look was as serious as ever, arms folded on his chest, unmoving. “It wasn’t even too expensive, Erwin! Come on, don’t dwell on the past! It’s long gone now!” You tried to make a plausible excuse for yourself, but to no avail. “Uh uh, that’s not what you said. You said you spent a hundred dollars on a tarot reading, because you weren’t sure I’d propose.” He gave you a serious look, pinching his glasses higher up on the bridge of his nose. “How could you not be certain? Have I ever let you doubt my intentions towards you, y/n?” Damn, this was going to end badly, you could feel his anger brewing. “You don’t understand, Historia is a genius! She even predicted we’d have a daughter before I knew it! How did you think I knew to buy a pregnancy test on our holiday?” The way his eyes grew wider at this confession was a sight, to say the least. “Uhm, your period skipping two months maybe?” “ERWIN!! It was summer time! That... Can happen... From time to time!” “I’m gonna hold your hand as I say this, y/n, but, at the time, we were having unprotected sex for a least three months because we were consciously trying for a baby.” He gave you one more of his serious glares, tilting his head a bit forward. “I’m just a girl, Erwin! You can’t blame me for wanting to make sure!” You explained as you crossed the distance between you and sat on his lap. Maybe this would prevent him getting too mad at you. He exhaled deeply as he stared at you between his arms. You knew he was judging you so much by the stern look on his face. Unfolding his paper and resuming his reading, he continued. “It’s a good thing you didn’t charge it on my card... If I saw those withdrawals without a single warning, I’d have called the bank to pause the card.” He flattened the paper with a shaking sound. You fidgeted with your fingers without realising it, but Erwin caught the gesture. “Y/n… You didn’t...” “I’M JUST A GIRL ERWIN! And a girl needs to know!”

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amethystarachnid · 3 days ago

Note

Thank you for writing my little Tony story 🤍

If it's not too much, can you write a second part for me please? Tony and reader finding out the baby's gender, Tony surprising her with a beautiful surprise proposal, maybe the other Anvegers can even help 🤍 the marriage and the baby's birth? 🤍🤍🤍 I lobe family man Tony too, it's so cute 🤍🤍🤍

Thank you!

ACCIDENTS HAPPEN - part II

⤷ ANTHONY “TONY” E. STARK

ᯓ★ Pairing: Anthony “Tony” E. Stark x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Request from: normal request

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 6.4k

ᯓ★ Summary: it's almost time for the baby's arrival so Tony decides that it's the perfect time to propose, as he drops to one knee you're sure you've found your happy ending,

ᯓ★ TW(s): childbirth

ᯓ★ I love family man Tony so much, matter of fact, I love every character seen as a family man I don't know why lol.

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The baby shower is shaping up to be a bigger event than you ever expected, though you probably should’ve seen it coming. With the Avengers involved, nothing is ever subtle. Tony, of course, is no help in scaling things back. In fact, he’s leaning into the chaos, throwing out extravagant suggestions like hiring live performers or setting up a drone fireworks display. You shoot most of his ideas down, insisting that this is a baby shower, not a red-carpet event.

Still, the excitement is infectious. Natasha takes charge of the planning—she’s surprisingly good at it, efficient and precise, down to the last detail. She ropes Bruce into helping, and the two of them become the only ones who know the baby’s gender. The rest of the team, including you and Tony, are kept in the dark, much to Tony’s annoyance.

“I don’t see why I can’t bribe Banner,” Tony grumbles one afternoon as he paces the kitchen. “He’s a terrible liar, anyway. A few drinks, a little sweet-talking, and he’d spill.”

“Good luck with that,” you reply with a smirk, stirring a cup of tea. “Natasha would kill him if he said anything. And you know she could.”

“Fair point,” Tony concedes, though he still looks annoyed. “Still, I’m calling it now: it’s a girl. She’s going to be brilliant, gorgeous, and way too smart for her own good. Just like her mom.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. “Oh, really? Because I’m thinking it’s a boy. Stubborn, full of energy, and probably way too much like you.”

“Not possible,” he says with mock seriousness. “There’s only room for one of me in this world.”

Clint chimes in later that evening when the team gathers in the common room, his feet propped up on the coffee table as he munches on a bag of chips. “I’m betting on a boy,” he says, pointing a chip in your direction. “Gotta have someone to teach archery to. Plus, Stark with a son? That’s comedy gold.”

Thor, who’s been helping decorate the living room with streamers and balloons (many of which are Asgardian-sized), disagrees. “A daughter would be most fitting,” he declares, his voice booming. “She will have the strength of her father and the grace of her mother. A true warrior!”

Steve, predictably, tries to stay neutral. “I think you’ll be happy no matter what,” he says diplomatically, though there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as he looks at Tony. “That said, I wouldn’t mind seeing Stark try to handle a teenage girl someday.”

“God help us,” Natasha mutters with a smirk.

On the day of the baby shower, the compound is transformed. There are decorations everywhere—streamers in pastel pinks and blues, balloons shaped like baby bottles, and a banner reading Welcome, Baby Stark! stretched across the main wall. The table is laden with food, drinks, and an elaborate cake that looks too beautiful to eat. There’s even a pile of gifts in the corner, ranging from practical items like diapers and onesies to absurdly expensive gadgets Tony probably ordered himself.

Natasha and Bruce are the picture of calm, though you know they’ve been coordinating the big reveal for weeks. The two of them exchange knowing looks every time someone tries to guess the baby’s gender, clearly enjoying their role as gatekeepers of the secret.

The main event comes after everyone’s had their fill of food and games, including a hilariously chaotic round of diaper-changing races featuring Steve and Thor. Natasha steps forward, holding a small box wrapped in neutral-colored paper. She taps a spoon against her glass to get everyone’s attention.

“All right, everyone, it’s time,” she says, her tone firm but playful. “Y/N, Tony, come up here.”

You exchange a glance with Tony, who’s grinning like a kid at Christmas, and follow Natasha to the front of the room. Bruce joins her, carrying what looks like a smoke cannon with pastel-colored confetti inside.

“Are we sure Banner knows how to use that?” Tony whispers to you, earning a chuckle.

Natasha ignores him and gestures for Bruce to hand the cannon to Tony. “This is simple,” she says. “On the count of three, you twist it. The confetti will tell you the gender. Got it?”

“Got it,” Tony says, his grip tightening on the cannon. He looks at you, his grin softening into something tender. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Ready,” you reply, your heart pounding.

The room buzzes with anticipation as Natasha begins the countdown. “Three… two… one!”

Tony twists the cannon, and an explosion of pink confetti fills the air, raining down in a sparkling shower. The room erupts into cheers, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at the cloud of pink with wide eyes.

“A girl,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly as the reality sinks in. “We’re having a girl.”

Tony turns to you, his grin splitting his face as he pulls you into his arms. “I told you,” he says, laughing as he spins you around. “I knew it!”

You’re laughing now too, tears streaming down your cheeks as the team gathers around, offering congratulations and playful jabs. Thor claps Tony on the back hard enough to make him stumble, while Clint pretends to look disappointed but quickly admits, “She’s probably gonna be cooler than a boy anyway.”

Natasha smirks, crossing her arms. “Told you it was worth the wait.”

As the excitement settles and the confetti begins to drift to the floor, Tony kneels in front of you, his hands resting gently on your growing belly. He looks up at you, his expression soft and filled with a kind of awe that takes your breath away.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “It’s official now. You’ve got one hell of a team waiting for you out here. But you know what? Your mom and I? We’re the lucky ones.”

Your heart swells, and you reach down to run your fingers through his hair. In that moment, surrounded by your friends, your family, and the overwhelming love in Tony’s eyes, you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

The nursery preparation becomes a joint project, though you suspect Tony might be using it as an excuse to turn every design meeting into a spectacle. It starts with a simple conversation over breakfast about colors and furniture, but within hours, Tony’s drawing up blueprints for a room so high-tech it could double as a lab.

“Tony,” you say, leaning over his shoulder as he sketches a design for a mobile with holographic planets orbiting a glowing star. “This is a nursery, not the International Space Station.”

He turns to you with an exaggerated look of shock. “Why settle for ordinary when our baby can have the universe in her room? Imagine it—she’ll look up and be inspired every night.”

You can’t help but smile, even as you roll your eyes. “She’s not going to care about any of this for at least a few years. Let’s focus on a crib that doesn’t look like it’s from the future, okay?”

“Compromise,” he says with a smirk. “The crib will be traditional. The rest? Cutting-edge Stark tech.”

Choosing the color scheme turns into its own adventure. You veto pink almost immediately, wanting something more neutral and calming. “What about soft blues and grays?” you suggest one afternoon as you hold up a paint swatch.

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Blues and grays? What is she, a baby or a Zen monk? Let’s go bold—deep purples, maybe some gold accents.”

“She’s a baby,” you remind him with a laugh. “She needs soothing, not a nightclub.”

Eventually, you settle on a compromise: a soft starry theme with muted blues, silvers, and whites, accented by golden stars and constellations painted along the walls. Tony insists on installing a custom ceiling projector that will display a moving galaxy, complete with twinkling stars and nebulae, for bedtime. You draw the line at installing an AI assistant in the room—at least for now.

The naming debate, however, proves to be even more challenging.

It starts casually one evening as you both lounge on the couch, flipping through baby name books. “Okay,” you say, running your finger down a list. “How about something classic? Elizabeth? Grace?”

Tony shakes his head. “Too stuffy. She’s going to be a Stark; she needs something unique. How about Nova?”

You pause, considering it. “Nova’s not bad,” you admit. “But it feels… incomplete.”

Tony grins. “Well, it’s lightyears ahead of Grace.”

You toss a pillow at him, laughing. “Fine. What else have you got, Mr. Genius?”

He leans back, pretending to think deeply. “Aurora. You know, like the northern lights.”

You wrinkle your nose. “Beautiful, but maybe a bit too Disney princess?”

The conversation goes on like this for days. Tony throws out names like Vega, Lyra, and Andromeda, while you try to steer him toward something more grounded. Neither of you seems willing to budge, though secretly you both enjoy the banter.

It’s during one of these discussions, late at night, that the perfect name finally emerges.

You’re lying in bed, the lights dimmed, and Tony’s hand rests protectively over your belly as he rambles about constellations. “Sirius is too much,” he says, more to himself than to you. “But it’d be cool if we could tie it back to something celestial. Something meaningful.”

You hum in agreement, half-asleep, when a thought strikes you. “Stella,” you say softly, testing the name on your tongue.

Tony freezes, then sits up slightly to look at you. “Stella,” he repeats, his voice thoughtful. “Latin for ‘star.’ Simple, beautiful, and meaningful. I love it.”

You smile, your heart warming at his reaction. “You really like it?”

“I don’t just like it,” he says, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “It’s perfect. Stella Stark. Our little star.”

The next morning, you tell the rest of the team about the name, and everyone agrees it’s fitting. Thor, especially, is thrilled. “A name worthy of the cosmos!” he declares, raising his coffee mug like a goblet.

Even Clint, who usually teases Tony at every opportunity, nods in approval. “Stella’s solid,” he says. “Classy, but not pretentious. Good pick.”

As the nursery nears completion and Stella’s name starts appearing on everything—from personalized blankets to a tiny plaque above the crib—you find yourself growing more excited with each passing day. The walls are painted, the furniture is assembled, and Tony’s holographic mobile is, admittedly, a work of art.

One evening, as you both stand in the finished nursery, Tony wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “You know,” he murmurs, looking around at the room, “we might’ve gone a little overboard.”

“A little,” you agree, though you can’t help but smile.

“But she’s worth it,” he adds, his voice soft as he rests his forehead against yours.

“She is,” you whisper, your heart full.

As the galaxy projector casts a soft glow of stars across the ceiling, you know that Stella is already surrounded by more love and wonder than you ever could’ve imagined.

The shift in behavior starts subtly. At first, you think you’re imagining it—the way Natasha ends phone calls the moment you enter the room or how Clint suddenly has a reason to leave anytime you try to ask what he and Tony were whispering about. Even Steve, who’s usually a beacon of honesty, seems unusually tight-lipped when you catch him and Bruce exchanging cryptic looks during a mission debrief.

Tony, of course, is no better. If anything, he’s the most suspicious of them all. Normally, he shares every detail of his day with you, but lately, he’s been “working late” more often than usual. When you ask what he’s working on, his answers are evasive, laced with a nonchalance that you don’t buy for a second.

“Just tweaking some tech,” he says one evening, typing furiously on a holographic keyboard that he closes the moment you approach. “You know, the usual.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “The usual doesn’t usually involve secretive meetings with the entire team or you hiding your screens from me.”

Tony looks up, flashing you one of his patented grins. “Paranoid much, sweetheart? Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones.”

You roll your eyes, but you let it slide—for now.

The day of the proposal dawns like any other. You wake up to the sound of Tony humming softly beside you, his hand resting protectively over your belly, and you can’t help but smile at the sight of him. At seven months pregnant, your body feels heavier and more tired than usual, but Tony’s been nothing if not attentive—sometimes to the point of hovering. Still, there’s something in his gaze this morning, a kind of nervous energy that makes you suspicious.

“What’s with the grin?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as he leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No grin,” he says, though the corners of his mouth betray him. “Just appreciating how stunning you look, as always.”

“Mmhmm,” you murmur, giving him a skeptical look. “If you’re planning something, Stark, I’ll figure it out.”

He smirks, leaning down to kiss your belly. “No secrets here, baby girl. Daddy’s just got work to do today.”

That afternoon, Natasha convinces you to go out for some “girl time,” which in itself feels suspicious. Nat rarely suggests spa days or shopping trips, but she waves off your questions with a smirk.

“Can’t a friend treat her very pregnant bestie to some pampering?” she says, steering you toward the door. “Besides, it’s not like you have anything better to do while Tony tinkers in the lab.”

By the time you return to the compound, you’re relaxed but even more curious. The hallways are quiet—too quiet—and the usual buzz of activity is strangely absent. As Natasha leads you toward the common area, your suspicions grow.

“What’s going on?” you ask, stopping in your tracks. “Why do I feel like I’m walking into an ambush?”

Natasha just smirks, tugging you forward. “You’ll see.”

The doors to the common area slide open, and your breath catches. The room is transformed. Soft, glowing lights hang from the ceiling like stars, casting a warm, ethereal glow. A pathway lined with rose petals leads to the center of the room, where Tony stands in a perfectly tailored suit, looking more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. Behind him, the rest of the Avengers stand in a loose semicircle, all wearing knowing smiles.

“Tony,” you whisper, your heart pounding as Natasha gives you a gentle nudge forward.

He takes a step toward you, his usual confidence tempered by the kind of vulnerability he rarely shows. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, it’s like the rest of the world fades away.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “You’ve already given me so much. You’ve made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and in just a couple of months, you’re going to give me the greatest gift of all—our daughter.”

You feel tears welling up as he continues, his hand reaching out to take yours. “But before she gets here, I want to give you something, too. I want to give you my heart, my name, my everything. I want us to be a family, officially, because… well, because I love you more than words can ever say.”

He drops to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket and opening it to reveal a dazzling engagement ring. The diamond sparkles like a star, and you can’t help but gasp.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice soft but firm, “will you marry me?”

For a moment, you’re too overwhelmed to speak. Tears spill down your cheeks as you nod, a laugh bubbling up through your emotions. “Yes,” you finally manage, your voice breaking. “Yes, Tony, of course!”

Tony’s grin is so wide it looks like it might split his face. He slides the ring onto your finger, his hands trembling slightly, and then he’s standing, pulling you into his arms. He holds you close, burying his face in your hair as you cling to him.

“You’re crying,” you murmur against his shoulder, your voice teasing despite your own tears.

“I am not,” he protests, though his voice wavers. He pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes glistening. “Okay, maybe a little. But don’t tell anyone, all right? I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

You laugh, wiping at your own tears as he presses a gentle kiss to your lips. Behind you, the Avengers erupt into cheers and applause, Clint letting out a loud wolf whistle while Thor raises his hammer in triumph.

“About time!” Clint calls out, grinning from ear to ear.

Natasha smirks, her arms crossed. “Told you she’d say yes.”

Later that evening, as you sit together in the nursery, the engagement ring glittering on your finger and Tony’s hand resting over your belly, you can’t help but marvel at how far you’ve come. He looks at you like you’re his entire world, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like nothing could ever go wrong.

“You’re happy,” you say softly, studying his face.

Tony looks at you, his expression filled with a love so deep it takes your breath away. “I’m more than happy,” he says, his voice low and earnest. “You and Stella… you’re everything I never knew I needed.”

You lean into him, your head resting on his shoulder as the baby kicks gently against his hand. “We love you too,” you whisper, and in that moment, the universe feels just right.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day starts out completely normal—or at least as normal as life gets when you’re living with Tony Stark and the Avengers. You’re lounging on the couch, rubbing your enormous belly, when you feel the first contraction. It’s mild, more like a cramp than anything else, but enough to make you pause mid-sentence while you’re trying to convince Tony that the name Stella is not negotiable for her middle name.

“Everything okay?” Tony asks, looking up from where he’s fiddling with one of his many gadgets.

You nod, brushing it off. “Yeah, just… I think she’s practicing her escape plan.”

Tony chuckles. “Smart kid. Of course, she’s my daughter. She’s already planning ahead.”

You roll your eyes but let the moment pass. That is until another contraction hits—not unbearable, but definitely noticeable. You wince, shifting in your seat.

Tony’s eyes narrow. “Okay, that wasn’t just a practice run. What’s going on?”

You try to play it cool. “I think it might be starting, but it’s fine. First labors take a while. No need to—”

But before you can finish, Tony is up and moving like the house is on fire. “FRIDAY! Get the car! Clear a path! Call Banner! Wait, no, call Bruce AND the hospital! Get Nat to pack a bag—do we have a bag? Where’s the bag?”

You laugh despite yourself, waving a hand to calm him down. “Tony, relax. I’m not even sure it’s—”

Tony is already pacing, pulling his phone out to make calls. “Relax? RELAX? You’re about to bring an entire human into the world, and you want me to relax? You know who doesn’t relax? Tony Stark. I plan. I execute.” He points to your belly. “That tiny genius in there is counting on me!”

Another contraction interrupts your attempt to reassure him, this one stronger than before. You grip the edge of the couch, exhaling sharply. Tony’s eyes go wide, and his face pales.

“That’s it,” he declares. “We’re going now. FRIDAY, where’s the car?”

By the time you get to the hospital, Tony’s nerves are a full-blown circus. He’s barking orders at the nurses, double-checking every piece of equipment they wheel past, and generally acting like a man whose entire world is on the brink of chaos.

“Are those sterilized?” he asks one poor nurse, gesturing to a tray of instruments. “Because I know a guy who can check for microscopic contaminants.”

“Tony,” you groan from the wheelchair they’ve put you in. “Let the professionals do their job.”

“Right,” he says, nodding quickly. “Right. Sorry. Carry on.”

Once you’re settled in the delivery room, the contractions intensify, and so does Tony’s panic. He’s pacing again, alternating between squeezing your hand and apologizing for squeezing your hand too hard.

“Why is this taking so long?” he mutters, glancing at the clock. “Is there a way to, I don’t know, speed this up? I mean, we’ve got science, right? Lasers? Something?”

Your labor nurse gives him a patient smile. “Babies come on their own time, Mr. Stark.”

Tony points at her, dead serious. “I’ll have you know I’ve streamlined multi-billion-dollar manufacturing processes. I could totally streamline—”

“Tony!” you snap, gripping his hand through another contraction. “If you don’t stop talking about lasers and streamlining, I’m going to throw you out of this room.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he says quickly, wincing as your grip tightens. “You’re doing great, by the way. Absolutely phenomenal. Ten out of ten.”

As the hours pass, Tony alternates between being overly helpful and hilariously unhelpful. At one point, he tries to "coach" you through the contractions, repeating advice he clearly Googled five minutes earlier.

“Breathe, babe,” he says, crouching next to you. “In through the nose, out through the—OW!” He yelps as you squeeze his hand, your patience wearing thin.

“I am breathing!” you growl. “You breathe!”

“Right, got it,” he says, shaking out his hand. “I’ll breathe quieter.”

By the time you’re ready to push, Tony looks like he’s aged ten years. His hair is a mess, his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen, and he’s nervously chewing on his bottom lip as if he’s the one doing all the hard work.

“Okay,” the doctor says. “It’s time to meet your baby. Dad, are you ready?”

Tony blinks, his face going pale again. “Wait, me? What am I supposed to do?”

“Just stay next to me and try not to pass out,” you deadpan, glaring at him through gritted teeth.

The actual delivery feels like a blur, but Tony’s reactions are crystal clear. As soon as Stella’s first cry fills the room, he freezes, his eyes wide with a mix of awe and disbelief. The doctor places her on your chest, and you look down at the tiny, wriggling bundle of perfection. Tears stream down your face as you cradle her, overwhelmed with love.

Tony leans over, his hands hovering awkwardly as if he’s afraid to touch her. “She’s… she’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

You glance up at him, smiling through your tears. “She is.”

He swallows hard, blinking rapidly as if trying to fight back tears of his own. “I’m not crying,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. “It’s just… dusty in here.”

“Sure, Tony,” you say, laughing softly. “Whatever you say.”

He finally reaches out, gently running a finger along Stella’s tiny hand. When she grips his finger, his face lights up like you’ve never seen before.

“Hi, baby girl,” he murmurs, his voice trembling. “It’s me. Your dad. I’m the guy who’s going to spoil you rotten and probably embarrass you in front of all your friends someday.”

You laugh again, your heart so full it feels like it might burst. As Tony leans down to kiss your forehead, then Stella’s, you know this moment—this messy, chaotic, perfect moment—is one you’ll never forget.

The ride home is surprisingly smooth, considering Tony’s usual flair for drama. He insists on driving, despite your gentle protests, and the way he handles the car like it’s made of glass is almost endearing. Stella, snug in her carrier, sleeps through the whole thing, her tiny face scrunched in a way that makes your heart ache with love.

“Are you sure she’s breathing?” Tony asks for the third time, glancing back at her in the rearview mirror.

“Yes, Tony,” you reply, trying not to laugh. “Babies sleep. It’s kind of their thing.”

He huffs, clearly unsatisfied. “Well, it’s nerve-wracking. I’m used to things that come with a manual, not ones that just… exist and rely on me not to screw up.”

“She’ll be fine,” you reassure him, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “We’ll figure it out together.”

The Avengers are waiting when you arrive at the compound, their faces pressed against the windows like eager kids waiting for Santa. Even Clint, who normally pretends to be too cool for this sort of thing, looks uncharacteristically excited.

The moment you step inside, carrying Stella in her carrier, they descend like a swarm.

“Oh my God, she’s so tiny!” Natasha coos, her usual stoicism replaced with pure, unfiltered awe. “Look at her little hands.”

Steve grins, leaning down to get a better look. “She’s beautiful,” he says warmly, his voice tinged with a kind of reverence.

“She’s definitely got your nose, Y/N,” Bruce chimes in, smiling shyly. “Lucky kid.”

Even Clint, who’d joked for months about how he wasn’t going to fawn over “just another Stark,” can’t help but soften. “She’s pretty cute,” he admits, though his grin betrays his attempt at nonchalance.

“Cute?” Tony cuts in, feigning offense. “Try perfect. Absolute masterpiece. My finest work.”

You roll your eyes, laughing. “She’s not one of your inventions, Tony.”

“No,” he agrees, his gaze softening as he looks at Stella. “She’s better.”

Thor, meanwhile, looms in the background, looking uncharacteristically nervous. You catch him shifting his weight from foot to foot, his brows furrowed as he watches the others coo and fuss over Stella.

“Thor,” you call gently, motioning him over. “Do you want to meet her?”

He hesitates, his usual bravado replaced with uncertainty. “I am unsure,” he admits, his voice low. “She is so small. What if I… break her?”

Tony snorts. “Relax, Point Break. She’s sturdier than she looks.”

Thor’s eyes widen. “Are you certain? For I have been told I am… exuberant in my movements.”

You can’t help but smile. “You’ll be fine. Just be gentle.”

Carefully, you unbuckle Stella from her carrier and place her in Thor’s massive hands. He cradles her like she’s made of glass, his expression a mix of awe and terror.

“She is… radiant,” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “A tiny warrior in the making.”

Stella squirms, letting out a small gurgle, and Thor immediately panics. “What is this sound? Is she displeased? Have I offended her?”

You laugh, taking her back before his nerves get the better of him. “She’s just waking up. You did great, Thor.”

He exhales in relief, looking visibly proud despite his earlier fear. “Then I shall strive to earn her favor, as a worthy uncle should.”

As the evening wears on, the Avengers take turns holding Stella, each of them surprisingly adept in their own way. Natasha rocks her gently, whispering something soft and sweet in Russian. Steve looks completely at ease, cradling her with a quiet confidence that makes you wonder if he’s done this before. Bruce hums softly, his gentle demeanor soothing Stella when she stirs.

Clint, ever the showman, gets her to grab his finger and immediately declares, “She likes me best. Sorry, everyone else.”

Even Thor eventually works up the courage to hold her again, this time with less fear and more awe.

Tony, meanwhile, hovers nearby, alternating between beaming with pride and trying to direct everyone on the proper way to hold her.

“Support her head,” he says for the fifth time, gesturing like he’s leading a workshop. “And don’t jostle her too much. She’s had a big day.”

“Tony,” you say, placing a hand on his arm to calm him. “She’s fine. Look at her—she’s surrounded by love.”

He glances around the room, taking in the sight of his teammates—his family—cooing and fussing over Stella. His shoulders relax, and a small, genuine smile tugs at his lips.

“Yeah,” he says softly, slipping an arm around your waist. “She’s going to be okay.”

You lean into him, watching as Stella lets out a tiny yawn, completely unfazed by the chaos around her. In this moment, surrounded by your unconventional but loving family, you know she’s going to grow up in the best possible way.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The day is perfect—blue skies, warm sunlight, and the hum of excitement in the air as friends and family gather in the garden of the Stark estate for the wedding. You stand in the bridal suite, adjusting the lace sleeves of your gown, the soft fabric hugging your body comfortably enough to accommodate the postpartum changes you’re still embracing. In your arms, Stella squirms, her tiny hands tugging at the delicate veil trailing over your shoulder.

“Mommy’s trying to look fancy,” you murmur, kissing her chubby cheek. “Try not to drool too much on the dress, okay?”

Natasha appears in the doorway, dressed elegantly in a flowing gown but still managing to radiate her usual aura of cool confidence. “Ready to knock Tony off his feet?” she asks with a smirk.

You laugh nervously. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Natasha leans in to take a peek at Stella, who’s now gnawing on her fingers. “And what about you, little one? Ready to steal the show?”

“She’s been ready since birth,” you say, smiling fondly. “I just hope she doesn’t start screaming halfway down the aisle.”

The music starts—soft, romantic, and unmistakably orchestrated to perfection because, of course, Tony insisted on hiring the best string quartet money could buy. You step out into the aisle, holding Stella securely against your chest.

All eyes are on you, but your gaze locks instantly with Tony’s. He’s standing at the altar in a sharp tuxedo, his hair immaculately styled, but it’s his expression that floors you. His eyes are shining, his lips trembling slightly as he takes you in—his fiancée, his daughter in your arms, walking toward him like a vision straight out of his dreams.

When you’re halfway down the aisle, you catch him discreetly wiping at his eyes, though his attempt to play it cool is utterly transparent. You can’t help but smile.

“Crying already?” you tease softly as you reach the altar.

Tony’s voice cracks as he replies, “It’s allergies. Don’t get used to it.”

The officiant clears his throat, gesturing for everyone to sit. You pass Stella to Natasha, who holds her with practiced ease, but not before Tony sneaks a kiss to his daughter’s forehead. “Don’t cause too much trouble for Aunt Nat, okay?” he whispers.

The ceremony is beautiful, filled with laughter, a few tears, and vows that manage to be both heartfelt and hilariously Tony.

“I promise to always make you laugh,” he says, his voice soft but steady. “To build you anything you need—even if it’s just a better coffee maker. And I promise that no matter how big our family gets or how crazy life becomes, you’ll always be the center of my world.”

You smile, your heart full as you reply, “And I promise to keep you grounded—even when you’re flying. To stand by you, even when you’re being insufferable. And to love you, completely, for the genius, ridiculous, wonderful man that you are.”

The guests cheer when you kiss, and you can hear Clint shouting something about “finally making an honest man out of Stark,” but you’re too caught up in the moment to care. Tony’s hands are on your waist, his forehead pressed to yours as he whispers, “You’re stuck with me now, Mrs. Stark.”

The reception is lively, filled with laughter and champagne toasts, but the true star of the evening is Stella. At six months old, she’s the smallest guest but easily the most adored. She’s passed from one Avenger to the next, each of them taking turns cooing and playing with her. Steve lets her grab at his finger, grinning like a proud uncle. Bruce gently bounces her on his knee, her giggles drawing smiles from everyone around. Even Thor takes a turn, holding her aloft and declaring her “the mightiest of babes” before you quickly retrieve her, worried he might throw her like Mjolnir.

Despite the joy of the day, you and Tony find yourselves constantly glancing toward wherever Stella is. When you see her reaching for a cupcake, her tiny hand almost toppling the entire dessert tower, you excuse yourself mid-conversation to intercept.

“She’s got your appetite,” you say, placing Stella in her high chair and handing her a safer option—a teething biscuit.

“And your stubbornness,” Tony adds, crouching next to you to adjust her little headband. He kisses her forehead before looking up at you, his expression soft. “We did pretty good, didn’t we?”

You smile, leaning down to kiss him. “We did amazing.”

As the night winds down, you dance with Tony under the fairy lights, Stella dozing peacefully in Natasha’s arms nearby.

“Today was perfect,” you whisper, resting your head on his shoulder.

Tony pulls you closer, his hand warm on your back. “Because of you,” he murmurs. “You and Stella—you’re my whole world.”

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love. “And you’re ours.”

The music swells, and for a moment, it’s just the three of you in your own little world, the rest of the party fading into the background.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Four years later

Four years later, the Stark household is as lively as ever. Stella, now a spirited and endlessly curious four-year-old, is the undeniable star of the compound. She’s sharp like her dad, determined like her mom, and, to everyone’s ongoing astonishment, utterly enamored with Thor.

“Where is Uncle Thor?” Stella demands one morning, her tiny hands on her hips in a perfect mimicry of your stance when you're irritated. “He promised we’d go find worms for the garden!”

You chuckle as you rest a hand on your growing belly. “Honey, Uncle Thor’s busy with work. He can’t always come running every time you call.”

“Why not?” she counters, pouting. “He’s the Mighty Thor. He’s not too busy for me.”

You shake your head, smiling. “You’ve got your daddy’s charm, you know that?”

Tony walks in just in time to hear the exchange, a cup of coffee in one hand and a slightly sour expression on his face. “I don’t know what he’s done to brainwash her, but I don’t like it,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your cheek before ruffling Stella’s hair.

“Uncle Thor is the best!” Stella declares, throwing her arms up dramatically. “He’s teaching me how to lift Mjolnir!”

“Is he now?” Tony says, narrowing his eyes. “I thought I told him no godly powers until after kindergarten.”

Later that afternoon, Thor arrives as promised, and Stella runs to greet him, her excitement so infectious even Tony can’t entirely suppress a grin. Thor sweeps her up, spinning her around like she weighs nothing.

“Ah, my favorite little warrior!” Thor booms. “Are you ready to brave the wilderness?”

“Yes!” Stella squeals, clutching onto him tightly. “Let’s go, Uncle Thor!”

“Wilderness?” Tony interjects, crossing his arms. “You mean my backyard?”

Thor just grins. “Every great adventure starts somewhere, Stark.”

As they head outside, you and Tony watch from the window, his arm draped protectively around your shoulders.

“I can’t believe she picked him as her favorite,” Tony says with mock despair. “What does he have that I don’t?”

“A magic hammer?” you suggest, smirking.

Tony gasps in mock offense. “Unbelievable. After all I’ve done for her.”

“Don’t worry,” you tease, patting your belly. “Maybe this little guy will be Team Dad.”

Tony’s face softens immediately, his free hand coming to rest gently on your growing bump. “He better be,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss it. “Otherwise, I’ll have to build another suit—Baby Iron Man Edition.”

Stella eventually drags Thor back inside, both of them covered in dirt but grinning like co-conspirators. Thor greets your belly with a reverent nod, placing a hand on it like he’s bestowing a blessing. “He stirs with strength already,” he declares. “A future warrior.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “He’s not even born yet, Point Break. Let’s not start handing out titles.”

Stella crawls onto the couch next to you, her small hands carefully pressing against your belly. “Mommy, when will the baby come out?”

“In a few months, sweetie,” you say, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “He needs to grow a little more before he’s ready.”

“Will he be bigger than me?”

“Not at first,” Tony interjects, scooping her up onto his lap. “But don’t worry, Stella. You’ll always be the boss. It’s your job to teach him everything you know.”

Stella beams at that, puffing out her chest. “I’m going to be the best big sister ever.”

Tony chuckles, kissing her on the forehead. “I have no doubt.”

The rest of the day is filled with the usual chaos—Stella insisting she help with dinner (which mostly means spilling flour everywhere), Thor recounting dramatic tales of Asgardian battles to an enraptured audience, and Tony tinkering in his lab while occasionally glancing over to check on you.

Later that night, as you’re tucking Stella into bed, she clings to your arm, her wide eyes full of curiosity.

“Mommy?” she asks softly. “Do you think the baby will like Uncle Thor too?”

You laugh, stroking her hair. “Probably. But I think he’s going to like you the most.”

Her face lights up, and she snuggles deeper into her blankets. “Good. I’ll share Uncle Thor with him, but only a little.”

After kissing her goodnight, you return to the living room, where Tony is waiting on the couch, a glass of sparkling water in hand for you.

“Is she down?” he asks, pulling you gently into his side as you sink onto the cushions.

“Out like a light,” you reply, taking the glass. “She was asking if the baby will like Thor.”

Tony groans, tipping his head back dramatically. “That man is a menace.”

You laugh, resting your head on his shoulder. “You know you love how happy he makes her.”

Tony’s arm tightens around you, his voice softening. “Yeah, I do. But you know what makes me happiest?”

“What?”

“This,” he says, resting his hand on your bump again. “All of us. Together.”

You smile, your heart full as you lean into him. “Me too.”

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pbaz7 · 1 day ago

Text

AN: Hi guys, this is my first time writing and posting on here but I felt inspired. Let me know what you think and if it’s any good. I have so many ideas so I want to know if I should keep writing!

It’ll Always Be Her

It’s 6:52 AM, and though her “girlfriend” lies next to her, Paige can’t stop thinking about Azzi. Usually it’s Azzi who occupies this spot next to her, and it’s a lot easier to relax. But last night, Paige hadn’t been feeling great, and she didn’t have the energy to push back against Jess. (It;s a familiar pattern, one that explains how Piage ended up in a relationship with Jess to begin with.) So when Jess insisted that Paige needed to be taken care of, all Paige could do was mutter something inaudible under her breath and collapse face-first into her pillow, forcing herself to sleep earlier than usual.

Now, here she is, wide awake an hour and a half before her alarm is set to go off. Not because she’s ready to face the day, but because she’s uncomfortable with Jess snuggled so close and because her mind won’t stop swirling with thoughts of Azzi, her curly headed best friend. Over the past few weeks, something has shifted between them. Their looks have become more intense, their fingers linger on each other for just a second too long, and there’s an undeniable tension that always leaves Paige wanting more.

She glances at her phone- 7:23. Great. She sighs and tosses and turns, hoping to wake Jess so she can escape the bed as soon as possible. But when Jess begins to stir, she presses her face deeper into Paige’s side and wraps her arm around her waist, holding her tighter. The gesture feels so innocent, so natural… and yet, any touch that isn’t Azzi’s these days feels wrong.

With a frustrated breath, Paige swings her legs off the bed, sitting up quickly. She’s already done with this, already done with the suffocating warmth of Jess beside her.

The movement is enough to wake Jess fully. She blinks up at the time, then at Paige. “Baby, come back to bed. Jess says, her voice thick with sleep, trying to coax Paige back under the covers. “It’s so early.”

Paige doesn’t meet her eyes. She’s focused on the dresser, pulling out a sweatshirt, but her tone is dry when she responds. “I can’t. I’ve got to get to the gym.”

“Come on,” Jess whines, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “You have plenty of time. Please. Just five more minutes.”

Paige pulls on her sweatshirt, the irritation creeping into her voice. “I can’t Jess. I’ve got a full day. Practice, classes, homework. Endorsements to deal with. I don’t have time for this.”

Jess’s face falls. She gets out of bed slowly and steps toward Paige, “You’re acting like I’m some kind of inconvenience. Is it a crime to want to be intimate and spend time with your girlfriend? You’ve barely glanced at me in weeks. What’s going on, Paige? I miss you. I miss us hanging out.”

Paige feels anger welling up inside her now even though she knows she’s being unreasonable. She spins around, facing Jess. “You don’t get it, Jess,” she snaps. “You forced your way into my room last night. You know you never sleep here. I wasn’t asking for your ‘help,” I wasn’t asking for you to be here. You just–” She stops herself, trying to breathe through the frustration because she knows Jess hasn’t done anything wrong, but the words keep spilling out. “I didn’t want this. You didn’t even give me a choice.”

Jess recoils, her face flushing with a mix of hurt and confusion. “What the hell are you talking about Paige? I just wanted to be there for you. I didn’t force myself on you.” Her voice shakes now, the hurt beginning to show. “You’ve been shutting me out, and now you’re blaming me?”

Paige runs a hand through her hair, exasperated trying not to hurt the girl anymore that she already has. “I’m not blaming you, Jess. I’m just saying you’re not giving me any space. “I’m not your project to fix.”

Jess steps back. Her expression hardening. “So, what? You’re just going to keep pushing me away? Because I’ve been nothing but patient with you, but you’re acting like I’ve done something wrong.”

Paige’s breath quickens, her heart racing, “I’m not shutting you out. I’m trying to figure things out. I can’t breathe with you constantly hovering.”

Jess stares at her for a long beat, clearly struggling to process everything. Then, her eyes narrow, and her voice lowers. “ I get it now, It’s her isn’t it?”

Paige’s entire body freezes. Her pulse spikes, and her stomach drops. “Don’t. Don’t bring her into this,” she says, her voice strained. It’s a warning, as everyone knows how protective the blonde is of Azzi. But it’s too late. Hess’s words hang in the air like a cold gust of wind.

“I see the way you look at her. I’m not blind, Paige. It’s so obvious–maybe you need to be more honest with yourself.”

“Don’t bring her up,” Paige snaps, her voice sharp and brittle. She’s seething now, every fiber of her being reacting to the mention of Azzi. “You don’t know what you’re talking about so maybe you should just leave.

Jess’s face pales, her lips trembling with a mix of anger and hurt. But she doesn’t say anything else. She just grabs her things, slinging her back over her shoulder with a sharp motion.

Paige doesn’t look at her as she heads toward the door. She can feel Jess’s gaze on her, but she can’t bring herself to meet it. She’s still shaking, her anger, guilt, and confusion all rising to the surface.

“Fine,” Jess mutters as she reaches the door. Her voice is small, but there’s a venom in it now. “I’ll give you the space you so desperately want. I’ll talk to you later Paige.”

The door clicks shut behind her, and for a long moment, Paige doesn’t move. The weight of everything crashes over her, and the room feels impossible quiet.

She doesn’t know how long she stands there, fighting the wave of emotions, trying to push down the rage, the guilt, the ache in her chest. She runs a hand through her hair, trying to breathe, but all she can think about is Azzi, The way her heart races when she’s near her. The way their eyes meet and everything else seems to fade.

…

Paige slings her gym back over her shoulder, her steps brisk as she tries to shake off the lingering weight of her argument with Jess. She’s almost to the door when she nearly collides with Ice, who’s leaning casually against the wall, earbuds hanging from her neck.

“Whoa, slow down,” Ice says, raising an eyebrow. She’s in her usual attire, a tank top and sweatpants, her hair pulled into a messy bun.

Paige mumbles an apology and moves to step around her, but Ice doesn’t budge. Instead, she gives Paige a long, knowing look.

“Heard everything this morning,” Ice says, her voice low. “Thin walls, you know.”

Paige freezes, her face flushing.

Ice shrugs, a faint teasing smirk playing on her lips. “I’m just saying, it doesn’t take a genius to see that something is building with you and Azzi.”

Paige’s stomach flips at the mention of Azzi. “There’s nothing going on,” she says quickly, but the defensiveness in her tone betrays her.

Ice raises her hands in mock surrender. “Hey, whatever you say.”

With that, she saunters off toward the kitchen, leaving Paige standing in the doorway, her thoughts swirling.

…

Paige pushes herself harder than usual, the basketball's relentless rhythm doing very little to quiet her mind. The music connected to the gym’s speaker halts as her phone buzzes, and she goes to grab it during a water break. It’s a text from Azzi.

Azzi: Morning sunshine. You survive the apocalypse?

Paige smirks despite herself and quickly types back.

Paige: Barely. Already at the gym.

Azzi: Damn, overachiever. You running from something superstar?

Paige hesitates before replying.

Paige: Just needed to clear my head. You free?

Azzi’s response comes almost immediately.

Azzi: For you? Always. Come by whenever.

Paige feels a flicker of relief mixed with anticipation. She fires off a quick See you soon before tossing her phone into her gym back. For the first time that morning, a small part of her feels lighter.

…

Later, Paige finds herself standing outside Azzi’s door, heart pounding. Azzi opens it with that easy, infectious smile that makes Paige’s pulse quicken.

“Hey, gym rat,” Azzi teases, stepping aside to let her in. “ You didn’t even shower first? Bold choice.”

Paige rolls her eyes but smiles. “Don’t push your luck.”

They settle on the couch, the tension between them noticeable even in the mundane moments. Azzi sits close with her arm draped along the back of the couch, fingers brushing against Paige’s shoulder, trying to soothe the older blonde. It’s casual, but it sends a jolt through Paige.

“So,” Azzi begins, her voice soft but curious as she knows the only thing that can possibly cause her to be upset this early in the day is Jess. “What happened with Jess?”

Paige exhales, running a hand through her hair. “She’s upset. Think’s I’m shutting her out.”

Azzi titles her head, “Are you?”

Paige sighs, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. “I don’t know. Maybe. Everything just feels…off with her lately.”

Azzi leans back, her fingers trailing casually over the seam of the couch. “You know, Jess never really liked me,” she says, her voice light, but her eyes sharp.

Paige shifts uncomfortably, already sensing where this is headed. “She’s just…territorial.”

Azzi snorts. “That’s one way to put it. From day one, she’s acted like I’m some homewrecker.”

Paige frowns, the memory of that first awkward meeting flashing in her mind. Jess had been cold, almost hostile, when Paige introduced her to Azzi at a team party months ago. Their tension was palpable from the moment they shook hands–Jess’s grip a little too firm, her smile a little too tight.

“She was threatened.” Paige says finally, her voice low. “And honestly? I didn’t know how to handle it. I wasn’t expecting her to call herself my girlfriend out of nowhere.”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smile. “So, you just went along with it? Classic Paige. Always trying not to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

Paige exhales sharply. “I didn’t want to embarrass her. And it wasn’t a big deal at first. We barely see each other with my schedule.”

Azzi leans in, her gaze intense. “But now?”

Paige doesn’t answer immediately. She’s too focused on the way Azzi’s eyes linger, the way her voice dips when she asks the question. The truth is, things are different now. Ever since Azzi started pushing boundaries–lingering touches, inside jokes that felt a little too intimate, the way she’d lean in close during quiet moments–Paige’s world has felt off-balance.

“It’s complicated,” Paige mutters, though even she knows it’s a cop-out.

Azzi titles her head, her tone both teasing and pointed. “Is it? Or are you just scared to admit what you really want?”

Paige’s heart skips a beat. “What are you getting at?”

Azzi shrugs, her smile softening. “I’m saying that maybe it’s time you stop worrying about everyone else and figure out what you need. You’ve been letting Jess call the shots, but what about you?”

Paige doesn’t respond immediately, her mind racing. She knows Azzi’s right. For months, she’s been coasting, letting Jess dictate the terms of their so-called relationship while keeping her own feelings bottled up, But now, with Azzi in the picture, those feelings are impossible to ignore.

“I don’t want to hurt Jess, she’s done nothing wrong” Paige says finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azzi’s expression softens, but there’s still a spark of determination in her eyes. “I know. But you can’t keep living like this, Paige. You deserve more than just going along with something because it’s easier.”

Paige meets Azzi’s gaze, her heart pounding. The air between them feels electric, the unspoken tension crackling like a live wire.

“You’ve been different lately,” Paige says suddenly, her voice quiet but steady. “More confident. More…direct in a sense.”

Azzi smirks, leaning in slightly. “You noticed?”

Paige swallows hard. “Yeah. Hard not to.”

Azzi’s fingers brush against Paige’s, a deliberate, feather-light touch that sends a jolt of warmth through her. The tension between them is palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife, Paige can barely breathe her pulse thundering in her ears. “Maybe I got tired of waiting for you to see what’s been right in front of you this whole time.” Deciding to be a little bold in this moment Azzi continues her voice low and teasing. “You know, it’s kind of funny. Jess is always worried about me stealing you awake.” She leans in just slightly, her smirk deepening. “If she only knew how easy you make it.”

Paige’s eyes narrow, her lips twitching with a reluctant smile. “You’re such a pain.”

“Maybe,” Azzie murmurs, leaning in closer. “But you like it.”

Her voice drops into a playful whisper, and Paige can’t help but laugh, though it comes out a little breathless. Azzi’s confidence is intoxicating, her presence magnetic. Paige feels herself drawn in, like a moth to a flame, even as her mind screams at her to keep her distance.

“Azzi,” Paige warns, though her tone lacks conviction as she glances quickly at Azzi’s lips.

“Relax,” Azzi says softly, leaning back slightly but keeping her hand close to Paige’s. “Just messing with you, P.” Her eyes flicker with amusement, but there’s a softness behind them too, something deeper than Paige can’t ignore.

Paige shakes her head, trying to clear her thoughts. “You really have no off switch, do you?”

“Not when it comes to you,” Azzi replies without missing a beat. She stretches her arms along the back of the couch, her fingers lightly grazing Paige’s shoulder again. “But hey, if you’re not ready to face the truth, I'll back off..for now.”

Paige smirks, leaning back into the couch. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re still here,” Azzi counters, her grin widening.

Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t deny the truth in Azzi’s words. She’s here because, despite everything, this is where she feels most at ease. Most herself.

“Alright, enough of your games,” Paige says, her voice more lighthearted now. “Pick a movie.”

Azzi grabs the remote, scrolling through the options. “Fine, but you’re not allowed to complain if I pick something you hate.”

“Just pick something, Azzi,” Paige teases.

With a mischievous glint in her eye, Azzi settles on Frozen. As the opening credits roll, she shifts slightly closer, her arm still resting along the back of the couch, fingers now absentmindedly playing with a strand of Paige’s hair.

Paige lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re not running away,” Azzi teases, her voice playful but with an edge of truth.

Paide doesn’t respond, her focus on the screen but her thoughts completely elsewhere. The warmth of Azzi’s touch, the sound of her laugh, the way her presence seemed to fill every corner of the room– it’s all too much and not enough at the same time.

For now, they style into the movie, the tension simmering just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to bubble over.

…

Later that evening, after leaving Azzi’s apartment, Paige stands in front of her dorm mirror, adjusting her sweatshirt. The number 35 emblazoned across the back–a familiar sight on game days, but tonight it feels different. It’s Azzi’s sweatshirt, one she had thrown on without thinking before heading over to Jess’s room. She swallows hard, already dreading the conversation ahead.

When Paige finally knocks, Jess opens the door with a tired expression. Her eyes immediately flick to the sweatshirt, and for a moment, her jaw tightens. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, her voice laced with sarcasm.

“Nice sweatshirt,” Jess says, her tone sharpy but quiet. “Azzi’s right? Gues you managed to check that off your long list of things you ‘needed’ to do today.”

Paige feels her stomach drop, guilt mingling with irritation. “Jess–” she says with a warning tone, not wanting the girl in front of her to bring up her best friend.

Jess raises her hand, shaking her head. “Don’t. I don’t have the energy for this right now.” Her voice is weary, the edge from before softening into something more fragile.

Paige’s brow furrows. “What’s going on?”

Jess steps back, motoning for Paige to come in. She sits on the edge of the bed, running a hand through her hair. “Something happened with my family,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I have to go back home for a few weeks.”

Paige blinks, the weight of Jess’s words settling over her. “What? Is everything okay?”

Jess shrugs, her gaze fixed on the floor. “Not really. My dad’s in the hospital. It’s serious, and my mom’s barely holding it together.”

“Jess, “I’m so sorry,” Paige says, her voice soft. She moves to sit beside Jess, hesitating before placing a stiff hand on her shoulder.

Jess offers a small, tight smile. “Thanks. I just..I need to be there for them, you know?”

Paige nods. “Of course. You should be with your family.”

They sit in silence for a moment, the tension between them shifting into something more somber. Finally, Jess exhales deeply and looks at Paige. “I hope we can figure things out when I get back. I hate feeling like this..like weren’t not on the same page.”

Paige’s chest tightens as she knows exactly how she feels. “Me too,” she says quietly, though the words feel hollow.

Jess gives her a lingering look, then stands. “I’ll be gone early tomorrow. Just..take care of yourself, so we can figure us out, okay?”

Paige nods again, standing. “You too, Let me know if you need anything.”

Jess offers a faint smile, but her eyes betray a mix of sadness and exhaustion. “I will.”

As Paige steps out of the room, the door closes softly behind her, leaving her alone in the hallway. She leans against the wall for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading back to Azzi’s room. In her chest she feels a mixture of guilt and relief, but she pushes them both aside as she walks down the hall.

…

When Paige returns to Azzi’s apartment, Azzi greets her with a smirk and a raised eyebrow. She leans casually against the doorframe, arms crossed, clearly enjoying herself.

“Well, well,’ Azzi drawls eyes flicking to the sweatshirt Paige is still wearing. “I see you decided to have the talk with Jess while rocking my number. Bold move.”

Paige sighs, stepping inside. “Don’t start.”

Azzi chuckles, closing the door behind her. “I’m just saying, P. You’ve got some interesting fashion choices for serious conversations.”

Paige rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the slight flush in her cheeks. “It wasn’t intentional. I just grabbed something before heading out.”

Azzi steps closer, her smirk softening into something more playful. “Well, intentional or not, you look good in it.” Her eyes sweep over Paige, and her voice drops slightly. “Really good.”

Paige’s breath catches for a moment, her heart pounding as she feels the tension between them crackle to life again. She tries to brush it off with a nervous laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

Azzi grins, taking another step closer until they’re just a breath apart.”And yet, you keep coming back.”

Paige doesn’t have a clever comeback this time. She’s too focused on the way Azzi’s gaze lingers on her, the way her fingers lightly brush against Paige’s wrist, sending a jolt of warmth through her.

“I can’t think straight around you.” Paige admits softly, almost to herself.

Azzi’s smile deepens, a mix of satisfaction and something softer. “Good,” she murmurs, her fingers trailing up to toy with the hem of the sweatshirt. “Because I like you exactly like this.”

Paige swallows hard, her pulse racing. She doesn’t resist when Azzi gently tugs her toward the couch, but instead of sitting down, Azzi stops, tilting her head toward the bedroom.

“Come on,” Azzi says, her voice low and inviting, “Let’s get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

As they step into the room, Paige pauses feeling a mix of anticipation and nervous energy, Azzi, catching the hesitation gives her usual reasoning smile but gentler.

“Relax,” Azzi murmurs, her voice low and soothing. “You know we’d never do anything while you’re with Jess. We’re better than that.”

Paige feels a mix of relief and guilt that swirl inside her. Azzi’s words aren’t just reassurance– they’re a reminder of the trust and respect that anchor their connection. She nods slowly, her heart steadying a little.

“I know,” Paige whispers, her voice almost breaking.

Azii offers her a small, understanding smile before gently tugging her toward the bed. “Now come on. Let’s get some sleep.”

Paige lets herself be led, but once they reach the bed, she takes the initiative. She slips under the covers and, before Azzi can settle, gently pulls her down beside her. Azzi raises an eyebrow, but before she can say anything, Paige wraps an arm around her waist and tugs her close, resting her chin on Azzi’s shoulder.

The room falls into a comfortable silence, their breaths syncing as the tension from earlier melts into a quiet intimacy. Paige tightens her hold slightly, her fingers brushing against Azzi’s stomach, grounding herself in the moment. A

Azzi tilts her head slightly, her voice soft. “You’re really something, P.”

Paige smiles, her heart full in a way she can’t quite describe. All thoughts of Jess are completely absent from her mind. “Goodnight, Az.”

“Night, superstar,” Azzi murmurs, her voice laced with contentment.

In the safety of each other’s arms, they drift off, the unspoken feelings between them lingering like a promise in the quiet night.

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd

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maodear · 1 day ago

Text

Yapping about the contestants Guardian’s!

TW: Abuse,drugs,SA and etc.

So not many people talk about the Guardian’s in alien stage. I will be making opinions on each, but I will probably write more about the guardians when my art-book comes. Which would have all the lore I need.

Shine 🩷 (Mizi’s guardian

As we all should know, Shine is the most friendliest and definitely the most sweetest Gurdian. She loves humans and has curiosity to them. Mizi and Shien definitely had the most closest thing to a Mother and Daughter relationship out of everyone else.

Shine wanted nothing but good for Mizi, which is probably why she wanted her to be in Anakt Garden. Mizi had talent for singing and dancing. I am sure that if Shine knew that Mizi would have to suffer and go through pain. She would have not done it at all.

During round 5, Shine was watching. And you can tell how she felt looking at Mizi. She looks so sad :((

In all of Mizi’s birthday art or official art with Shine. She looked so happy in each one, always smiling or having fun. Shine loves Mizi like a normal person would love there pet. It seems messed up but Aliens see humans as Pets. But Shine still loves Mizi as her

Urak 🖕 ((Tills guardian

Urak is the Segyein of Till. And I will say he sucks the most. He treats Till horribly, in all ways. Mentally and physically. Urak has had other of his pets compete in Alien stage, but he says that Till is different from all of them because of his personality. He goes on saying that He only kept Till alive because of his Musical Talent he has. Urak believes that a Gurdian should learn right away what their pet’s strengths are to see if they are worthy.

In round 6 flashback Urak is forcing Till to sing “Oh my clematis” which Till refused to, which Urak throws a bottle at him, pinned him to a table. And when Till does break free, He attacked another segyein. Urak then once again assisted in restraining him. It’s said that Till was also SA in that flashback.

When Urak was asked about round 6 in an interview, Urak says that the only thing that matters is winning. It doesn’t matter how, if he wins it all worked. He also does expressed that it’s possible for Till to beat Luka, given how much Urak invested in him. (Which ages perfectly))

As much as I hate to admit. Even if Till is alive or not. I’m glad he lost because Urak has set another of his pets for Failure. And I hope he knows that, no matter how much he abuses, drugs or whatever shit he does. It won’t work because he will always set them in failure. Over and over again and it’s his fault.

Apparently Unsha and Urak have romance..??

Unsha🐁 ((Ivan’s guardian

Unsha is the Segyein of Ivan. Unsha isn’t physically abusive to Ivan but definitely is mentally. He has horrible has Urak since both Mentally and Physically hurt as much.

Unsha bought Ivan for his wife since it was her birthday. Ivan was choose because of his eyes which he found intriguing. Unsha also does mention that he had just begun to venture into the pet human entertainment business, so the timing was perfect for him. Which makes me believe that Ivan was Unsha’s first Pet.

If I’m correct In an interview, Ivan claims that Unsha is well known and him and Urak had nothing more then a business relationship. Saying they weren’t close in any way. Nothing more nothing less.

When asked for his thoughts on Ivan's impulsive actions during Round 6, Unsha replied saying he was disappointed that Ivan essentially forfeited the round, and he thought Ivan had a lot of potential even before Alien stage. He also admitted to being curious about what Ivan was thinking during around 6.

He closes the interview by saying he felt like he learned a lot being with Ivan, and it was worth the loss. He lastly that he doesn’t intend to participate in Alien stage again anytime soon.

Phan💀(Hyunas and Hyun-woo Gurdian

Phan is the Gurdian Segyein of Hyuna and Hyun-woo. Not much is shown or known of her since she was never brought up.

I did find that Heperu has an interesting to her similar to how Luka is obsessed with Hyuna.

((Not my picture! I don’t own the Art-book yet!)

Heperu🖕🖕🖕 (Lukas Gurdian

Heperu is the Gurdian Segyein of Luka. I might get blasted for this but I believe he’s the worst one yet. He claims that he had made Luka overcome fear, which makes me wonder what kind of things he had done to Luka. As we know Luka as went through a test with was monitoring his heart rate, and stoping his heart completely. Luka barley shows any kind of emotion. But he was crying in that art, Heperu disgust me.

Heperu ego is very high I can tell, because in a interview he claims that all of Lukas achievements and his talent is because of him. And he should thank him always for making him perfect. He always puts Luka very high, saying he will win no matter what.

In one of Lukas official art it shows Heperu shadow being in a position in which looks like kissing.?? And his hand was caressing him. Luka also looked quite young too which just gives me more creeps.

In the music Video all-in Luka kissed Hyuna, which I want to say. Was because of Heperu. Usually when someone was SA they see as a normal thing and do it to another person. That would explain why Luka kisses Hyuna.

Luka has been out through so much stuff because of Heperu and like everyone else has. Luka as very right to be the way he is. Because of Heperu and how cruel he is, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Till did become the same way.

Heperu also has a thing for Phan, having an attraction to Phan, just like Luka has an attraction to Hyuna??

Neigh🐛 (Sua’s Guardian

Not much is known from Neigh, but from what we know is that Niegh sees pets as nothing more than dolls. She dressed them all out usually the same. In a white dress like a doll.

In Neigh’s profile it’s shown that she has 0% interest in Sua. Probably because Sua is a copy of everyone else there. They are all the same as emotionless dolls. With no feelings or opinions.

——<3

Pretty sure that’s everyone? When my art-book arrives I will make any other post on the Guardians probably.

I may hate every Guardian except for Shine, but they hold a lot of meaning in the story which I appreciate.

Thanks for taking your time to read all of this <33

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typicalopposite · 2 days ago

Note

👶👶👶👶👶👶👶👶

👀

ohhhh! you're interested interested! lol well since you wanted so many I'm gonna also double this as...

WIP Wednesday

(since I was tagged by these lovlies - @bidisasterevankinard @lavenderleahy @bangpop91 & @quintessenceofdust88 <3)

Evan is so close to him; his eyes searching and sad, his lips parted as he takes long deep breaths. He lifts a hand to Tommy’s cheek and caresses it as gently as he did the first time he initiated a kiss between them. It was after the coffee date, and Tommy walked Evan back to his jeep. Evan turned and grabbed Tommy’s face in the same way, and pulled him into a kiss. Which is exactly what he does now— slower this time… giving Tommy the chance to pull back or speak up— he doesn’t; Evan kisses him, and he just sighs into it, desperate for it. “Then… is— is this really what you want?” Evan asks, pulling back to look into Tommy’s eyes just as a tear falls. Tommy is a coward. He is not brave enough to say no… he’s too scared to say yes (not again).

“I’m sorry…” he says. Forgive me… he means.

“Okay.” Evan says softly, leaning his forehead against Tommys; he sighs. “Okay…” he repeats and moves his lips back to Tommy’s, and Tommy should pull away… he should stop them from crossing that line, even just one last time.

He doesn’t.

He thought it would be… intense, like it is in the movies. Heated, rough… maybe it would even hurt– hurt in the way he feels he deserves for the hurt he has caused. It should leave him sore for days, limping into work so his team can poke fun and come up with a dozen or more theories… But it wasn’t. Tommy wonders if it’s even possible for sex with Evan to be anything less than amazing. Whether he takes, or he gives, he does it with so much passion and care, it’s breathtaking. Tommy opens his eyes to look at Evan and realizes… that actually makes it hurt so much worse.

Maybe this is exactly the goodbye he deserves. A reminder he will never find something, someone, like this again.

It’s over too soon, and he’s left breathless lying on Evan’s chest, trying to soak in every second he can before he needs to pull away for their own good. Evan’s hands hold him tightly, and only tighten when he starts to move, but not tight enough to keep him from pulling free.

This is for the best. He tells himself this again and again and again as he slowly gets dressed, and Evan lies motionless staring up at the ceiling— Tommy only glances at him a couple times… each one has him wanting to crawl back into the bed and cling to Evan for dear life. He doesn’t.

He runs his fingers through his tousled hair, tries to find some words so he isn’t just walking out with nothing more said… but none come to him.

“I guess… I’ll see you around?” Evan says first, sighing out a halfhearted laugh at the broken record of a line— it’s like he knows it’s not true. He turns his head and finally locks eyes with Tommy, and the hold is so powerful Tommy isn’t sure if he’ll be able to break it.

He could say something… he could take it back… he could come clean about his reasons for running… He simply nods.

Evan swallows, and turns away from him— thankfully (thought is Tommy actually thankful for it?) breaking the connection himself, and looking back at the ceiling. “Goodbye Tommy…”

“Goodbye…” Buck— no… “—Evan.” He watches as Evan screws his eyes shut and turns away from him.

Tommy stumbles his way down the stairs, determined to get out of the loft— out of earshot— before succumbing to his emotions. He looks back one more time at the ruins that remain of their relationship, strikes a match and tosses it with the closing of the door.

<3<3<3<3<3

Make Me Write!

and throwing out some NP tags forrrrr @30somethingautisticteacher @onthewaytosomewhere @sunnywithachanceofbi @nine-one-wanton @judymarch15 @herrmannhalsteadproduction

@unhingedangstaddict @leashybebes @beanarie @hyperfocusthusly @kinardsevanaaand @weewookinard anyone else who wants to participate <3

#bucktommy #tommy kinard #evan buckley #make me write #wip wednesday #mpreg #bucktommy mpreg #bucktommy mpreg can fix them era

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muniimyg · 4 hours ago

Text

𐙚₊˚⊹ lawstudent!jimin ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist

friends to lovers / post break-up (oc is going thru a break-up)

uni au (law students)

fluff

it feels like jin has been yapping in your ear forever. if not forever, at least a good 15 minutes has passed since this horrific mock trial finished. you’re still here—taking his shit.

truth be told, it isn’t really shit. he’s not trying to be mean, he’s being himself—critical in the most gentle way possible. but on days like today, it’s difficult for you to differentiate the gentleness and criticism in his words.

“___, what i’m saying is… next time, if you’re going to wing it—commit to it. it was too obvious,” jin sighs, watching as you stuff your papers into your bag. “jimin had you cornered by the second argument. prep more, and you’ll do fine for the next one—”

“right,” you mumble. “noted. got it. thanks jin. sorry about today.”

you force a tight smile. jin looks at you, not buying it… but he nods and heads off, leaving you alone in the empty classroom.

except, you’re not alone.

“it’s no fun if you suck, you know.”

you glance up to see jimin leaning casually against one of the desks. he’s loosening his tie as he approaches you. there’s a smug expression on his face, yet there’s a softness in the way he looks at you.

“not in the mood,” you huff, going back to packing and not bothering to spend another second looking at him. “everyone knows it was an off day for me. i’ll be more fun for you next week.”

jimin chuckles, shifting his weight. “okay but—seriously, you went all in on the wrong precedent. if you’d just tied it back to—”

“jimin,” you snap, finally turning on him. your voice comes out sharper than you mean it to be. “i said i’m not in the mood.”

the air stills as he processes the deliverance of your sentance. his smirk quickly fades and is replaced by something more cautious—more caring.

jimin raises his hands, palms up. “okay, shit. fuck. what’s going on with you?”

you bite your lip hard, but it doesn’t stop the tears that suddenly spill over.

you and jimin are decent friends. you’ve gone to enough events with him to feel comfortable and have ran in the same circles every now and then. you two are familiar with your personal lives but not in great detail… maybe that’s why you admit the truth instead of brushing it off. out of everyone you know, jimin is the least likely to be nosy and opinionated about what is going on.

“i—namjoon and i broke up,” you blurt out, your voice breaking. “and this stupid trial, and jin’s feedback, and—i don’t know, it’s just too much right now.”

jimin’s eyes widen, and for a second, he looks completely out of his depth. but then he steps closer, his hand hovering near your back before he finally pats it, awkward but sincere.

“hey,” he says softly. “that must suck. i’m sorry, ___.”

his words… pull you.

so simple, yet so heavy. before you can stop yourself, you let out a sob. then, another and another… until you’re completely crying and suddenly he has his arms wrapped around your face is buried in his chest. for a split moment, it feels like he holds you so tight that if he lets go—you’d crumble without him.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, one hand rubbing small circles on your back. “let it out. it’s okay. i’m here.”

his words hand in the air as your heart continues to ache.

you don’t know how long you stay like that, clutching at his shirt as the weight of everything pours out of you but eventually, your sobs quiet. eventually, you pull back and wipe your face with the sleeve of your button up.

you two stay silent for a moment. only the sound of you catching your breath and the classroom vents humming fills the space.

then, with a small tilt of his head, jimin asks, “soju?”

you let out a light laugh, shaking your head.

“we broke up this morning… am i really going to get drunk now? it’s hardly past lunch.”

he smiles, the corners of his mouth lifting in that soft, familiar way that makes your chest ache a little less. “it’s almost 4pm. lunch passed. it’s dinner time.”

“seriously?”

he nods and nods towards the door. “come on. soju on me.”

without another word, jimin reaches over and finishes packing up for you. you watch and listen quietly as he begins to talk about the best meal pairings with soju. he makes you laugh a little more too.

as the two of you leave the classroom, your bag slung over his shoulder, jimin’s mind begins to race. he feels bad about your breakup—of course, he does—but fuck.

finally.

namjoon’s a good guy and all and you didn’t deserve to get hurt—but again.

finally.

jimin has liked you for so long and has been unable to do anything about it because his timing was off. so, he figured he’d wait it out. you and nam joon were a good pair—but something was missing. passion? yearning? love? something like that…

not to worry—jimin has a feeling he’ll bring those things to the table along with the soju.

#bts fic #bts scenario #jimin scenario #jimin x yn #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin friends to lovers #jimin f2l #jimin law student au #jimin uni au

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idciminlove · 3 days ago

Text

Take a Slice

Part Five - Casual

f!reader x Tashi Duncan x Art Donaldson x Patrick Zweig

Cinnamonacid on AO3

Warnings- arguments, angst, jealous Tashi, situationship struggles, homoerotic friendship struggles, etc.

You have to deal with making some difficult choices.

Song inspo: Casual- Chappel Roan

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Art paced around the living room, anxious and angry. Tashi stood and watched him, her arms folded, while Patrick sat on the couch. “Wanting to train her professionally? I thought we agreed to put our family first after Patrick retired. I thought you were happy with training the girls at the foundation.”

Tashi sighed. “I am.”

“Clearly, you’re not. It’s never enough for you, is it? What if she said yes, huh? Would you go on tour with her? Lily’s too old for that. She needs stability.”

“What, you think I would just run off with her? She’s not even ready to go on tour yet. She would just be a side project. I’d start off training her twice a week, when I wasn’t working at the foundation, and once she started showing improvement, things would get more serious. I know what I’m doing, Art. You know I love you, and Lily, and Patrick. I take care of our family and the both of you just fine. You need to trust me.” She remarked.

“This isn’t just about tennis, Tashi. I know that. I know you want her, and it’s not a good idea. She’s young, a lot younger than us, and she might not know how to handle this.” He gestured to the three of them.

“What did she say when you offered to train her?” Patrick interjected.

Tashi gripped her arm sleeve tightly in annoyance. “She said that she’d think about it, and that she has people she doesn’t want to leave.”

“‘People?’” Patrick cocked an eyebrow, a little smirk crossing his face.

“Her doubles partner, I’m assuming. She’s pussy whipped even worse than you, if that’s possible. Came in with all these hickeys on her neck, which she tried to cover up with concealer.” Jealousy was clear in her voice, along with her irritation. Patrick snickered quietly.

“I’m giving her an opportunity, a real chance, and she’s willing to give up everything for her. Everything she’s ever done, everything she’s ever worked for. It’s fucking stupid.”

Art’s expression softened, and he found himself locking eyes with Patrick. Maybe he knew you better than he thought. Maybe you could fit into this. Maybe he should give you a chance.

He sighed, running a hand over his face, feeling the cool metal of his wedding ring burning against his cheek, taunting him. “She’s going to need some time. Let her figure everything out. She’ll come back to you.”

“How do you know?” Tashi asked.

“I saw how she was looking at you at the end of the match. She wanted you to see. She wanted you to be impressed. She wanted you…who wouldn’t?” He took her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Tashi smiled at him.

Patrick got to his feet, gazing at the two. “Wait, so you’re in?”

“I guess so, are you?” Art replied.

“..Yeah.”

–

“So, how did it go?” Anneliese questioned as she sat across the table from you in the dining hall. Honestly, you didn’t know how to answer that. There was so much that happened, so many feelings, so many conflicts. Thinking back on it made you dizzy. It was like a puzzle you were trying to piece together in your head.

“I think I blew it.” You admitted.

She furrowed her eyebrows. “What? What do you mean?”

“It went fine, I guess, but she said she wanted to train me to play professionally, and I told her that I need to think about it, and she wasn’t very happy with that.”

“Why?”

You messed with the food on your tray, unable to meet her stare. “I don’t know, it was a lot, and I- I couldn’t give her an answer right away-”

“This is your dream. You worked so hard, and you told her you need to think about it?”

“I know, but doing this means leaving school and leaving everyone behind. It means leaving you behind. It means no more practices or matches together, no more bus rides, no more shared hotel rooms. It means no more us.”

“So you want to give it all up for me? That’s fucking stupid. There is no ‘us.’ We’re not even together. This is just..casual. You know that, and I won’t let you throw everything you worked so hard for away.”

Her words stung. Moving from state to state with your mother made it hard for you to make new friends, and even harder to keep them. She had been your first best friend, the first person that actually stuck around in your life. You loved her so much and you knew she loved you too, but she’s right.

You bit your lip, fighting back tears. She reached across the table, resting her hand on yours and giving it a comforting squeeze. “It’s not like you’re going to be moving across the country, you’ll only be an hour or so away. You can visit me and I can visit you. I’ll go see your matches and you can see mine. We’ll make it work, I promise. But I’m begging you, please don’t give up your dreams for me.”

You wanted to believe her, you really did, but you’ve heard those words too often before. Empty promises that they’ll keep in touch, that they won’t forget you, that they’ll make it work. It never does.

Your heart felt heavy in your chest. You took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look her in the eyes. “Okay, I’ll send her a text and let her know that I’m ready. I’m going to do this.”

She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Good.”

–

You: I thought about it and I’m ready

You: I want to do this. I want to play professionally and I’d be honored to have you train me.

Tashi had been waiting impatiently for that text, checking her phone constantly. She wanted Art to be right, she really did, but she had her doubts. Now, as she stared down at her phone, those doubts dissipated, replaced with feelings of satisfaction and excitement instead.

Tashi: I think you made the right decision

Tashi: Lmk your schedule and I’ll set something up

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yallthemwitches · 3 days ago

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How about these two prompts in one:

“Spread your legs for me.” … “Spread them wider.”

Hands firm on their thighs, keeping them from snapping them shut. 🫢🫣🥵

(Cannot contain excitement 🤭🤭🤭)

Hello again!

So I cheated (?) and mushed a lot of the prompts into one piece. This one goes with your prompt, plus “Look at you coming undone before I even touch you," and "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

Also, just generally I wanted to add another entry into the "James Potter is a munch who loves his girlfriend/wife's pleasure more than himself cinematic universe."

Thanks to everyone who submitted a prompt! I'll keep working on them!

Read under cut or on AO3 here

“The troll wars of the sixteenth century were disrupted by the —James.”

“Hm?” He doesn’t remove his lips from her neck, nipping down the side with his tongue trailing after to lick away any possible pain he’s caused.

“We need to study— we both have history of magic on friday and god knows you haven’t even looked at your notes.“

“I’m listening. Go on, keep reading.” But she has a hard time believing it, because her attention is not even on the words she is saying anymore, rather following the trail of his fingertips under the hem of her skirt.

She continues, but her voice falters on a word. She repeats the sentence once, twice… by the third try, she can feel James’ lips smiling into her collarbone, the hand under her skirt now massaging circles into her inner thigh.

“You are stressing too much about these exams,” he murmurs, moving his lips up to hers, dragging his tongue against the seam of her mouth.

“You’re clearly not,” she mumbles back, finishing the quip just before a small gasp bubbles out, his hand below hooking around the strap of her knickers.

Her eyes flutter closed for a split second, enjoying the lull of his touch, but she wrenches them back open, alarms starting to sound in the back of her mind.

“James—“ she hisses, “Quit it—this is the library…people will see.”

But he either isn’t listening or doesn’t care. His eyes drift open, just long enough to take a visual scan of the nearby bookshelves before diving back on her, lips moving at a deliberate slowness so she can feel every plea of his tongue as he coaxes her mouth open against his.

“Just relax Evans—read the lesson and let me take care of you, yeah?”

Right as she is about to ask what exactly he means by that, the warmth of his body disappears and she opens her eyes to see him sliding under the table, a wild grin beaming from his face.

“Christ, Potter. What are you—“

But the answer becomes evident. She feels two calloused hands start at her ankles and slowly glide up her legs, fingertips like feathers trickling their way to the soft flesh between her thighs and stopping just before the place where the thigh meets the torso.

“I can’t hear you reading, Evans,” he teases from the darkness under the table, amusement crackling in his voice. She lets out a low noise of discontent: he’s absolutely mental if he thinks she can focus on Troll Wars while he’s down there.

She wiggles her legs a bit, sliding them side to side as a ploy to get him to do something other than rest his fingers on her upper thigh, but he makes no further movements—his intention to stall clear until she follows direction.

She can feel heat pooling just inches away from where his hands lay with irritatingly zero pressure and moves to alleviate it herself. She begins to clamp her thighs shut but he moves instantly, hands pressing hard down into her thighs and prying them open wider so that her knees are almost in line with the corners of the chair.

“No way. I need you to spread your legs for me—as wide as you can, then start reading because I’m trying to study here.”

She has half the mind to kick him, but just as she attempts to jut out her leg, two hot hands press against either side of where her thighs and center meet and something hot and damp takes one long swipe against the center of her knickers.

She doubles over the table, bracing herself with her hands to not completely collapse her cheek against the surface. His mouth hovers against her middle, hands still holding her open, but he stalls again, making himself clear.

“I can’t hear you reading…c’mon Evans—I’m a kinesthetic learner...”

Arsehole. Breathing shallow, she straightens herself, feeling his fingers contract slightly on her thigh. Her center is so hungry for his touch again that it’s buzzing, all her body heat leeching to the one singular place where his mouth lingers.

“Godric—you are getting so wet…” She doesn’t hear him say it, but she can feel it, his lips so close to the fabric that the words tickle her core. “Look at you coming undone and I haven’t even touched you yet…”

In another moment she would have called him arrogant, but the overpowering need for him to touch her keeps her mouth tight. She takes a haggard breath and picks the textbook back up, willing to play along if it means feeling less like an insect squirming on a pin.

“T-The Troll War of—of Fuck Baby.”

Finally, the stalemate ends. His mouth descends on her, fingers tugging away the soaked fabric of her knickers to press kitten licks into bare skin. Sparks of light dance across her vision, and her reading falters, unable to get her eyes to focus on the words much less anything else besides his tongue.

“Merlin Lils, you’re dripping.” A finger dips into her with zero resistance and the sound of his fingers pumping into her wafts its way up into the room. She claws at the surface of the table, not able to find purchase and wishing she could reach for his hair and push his tongue in alongside his fingers.

“James—“

All pretense of reading is abandoned, James now solely focused on one goal only: to taste her come. He nibbles at her clit, alternating repetitive strokes of the tongue with soft sucking. She squirms against him, unhappy with her lack of mobility in the scenario—usually she is able to at least touch him back, but his spot under the table makes it too difficult to slide her hands down to find him.

“Come fuck me,” she gasps, getting restless. “I don’t bloody care who sees, come take me up against the shelf and let me come on your cock.”

A low gutteral noise echoes from below. “Fuck—-Fuck Lily—you saying that...”

For a moment he stalls, deliberating the proposition with her clit between his lips, then he begins moving again—twisting fingers, repeated laps, a thumb circling the bundle of nerves at the center of it all.

“No—come first,” he says, pulling her thighs impossibly wider. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

It’s unbearable, the pleasure building in her body. He adds more pressure, focusing on the exact spots he knows will make her unravel the fastest. It takes an act of god to keep her eyes open, always watching for some stray student to wander past and see her keeled over and panting against her homework.

Stripes of color litter her eyesight, the pleasure mounting right where his tongue lingers, coaxing her to finish in the same rhythm of his hand. She covers her mouth, unable to hold back moans as the sensation culminates, crashing down on her like warm rain.

“Shh—just a little more…”

Little is an understatement. Her body trembles, head falling down against the cool grain of the table.

“James, baby I—.”

It is loud enough to echo against the high dome ceiling, but she doesn’t care anymore. He continues even after she has come down from her climax, stroking the now sensitive skin until a bubble of laughter pulls him away.

Slunk against the table, she doesn’t register he’s moved until her chair skids backwards with her in it. Now out from his hiding spot, he stands in front of her, mouth glistening and a feral look gazing back from under his lenses. Her eyes have only seconds to zero in on the very obvious tent in his pants when she is shot backwards, now pressed against the nearest shelf with dust raining down on her.

“I ready to fuck you now.”

His tongue slips into her mouth and she tastes herself heady on his tongue. He bunches up her skirt enough to rip down her knickers, pocketing them in the process and she fiddles with his waistband, taking care to grind her hips forward in the process.

She has to admit, It’s her favorite part.

When he goes down on her he is all power, commanding her body much like he does a broomstick: with lithe, domineering movements encompassed in complete awe. But after, after when he has the trophy of his name pouring from her lips and her taste surging against his tongue– then he is finally able to give in. He melts completely for her.

“Lily–” he coos when she finds the smooth skin of his cock from inside his pants and shoves his trousers down just enough to release him.

“Merlin you’re amazing–a dream…I mean, fucking christ.”

She laughs at his adopted muggle swear while busying herself with hiking her leg around his waist. He takes her ass in both hands, holding her wedged against the bookshelf.

“I’m going to dock points from you for making too much noise,” she says with laughter trickling out. He grins back, not even denying his penchant for being vocal.

“Do it, take it. Best loss of Gryffindor pride I’ve ever wallowed away.”

Turns out she is just as bad as he is. He pants between her breasts, dipping in and out of her with a swift ease, aided by the remains of his earlier work. She grips everywhere at once, the creaking wood of the shelves, the rattling tomes behind her, his shoulders, and especially his hair. She cries into his neck, biting down as a means to silence herself but getting a little more mileage when the action makes James’ hips snap forward, the new angle shooting her back off the ledge and landing her somewhere past human thought. He follows after, gasping her name against her as he shakes in release.

In all, it's a miracle they aren’t caught.

“So much for our history of magic NEWT,” she sighs, absently trailing a hand through his hair and down the nape of his neck while his heartbeat slows under her. He enjoys being inside of her for just a moment longer, fully aware the second they separate the real world will rush in.

“What are you talking about?” He looks up with his glasses askew on his face, eyes dreamy and serene. She has the urge to kiss him, so she does.

“I’ll never forget the Troll War for as long as I live now—who knew shagging was a very effective study strategy.”

She laughs and he pushes their foreheads together, wishing he could bottle the sound.

#jily #jily smut #james potter #lily evans #smut prompt challenge #james being a munch for 2k words basically #jily fanfiction #my writing

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