#perfect court partners 3< /div>
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Something about Neil studying Wymack's wingspan and knowing to stand just out of range so he could run away easier and Jean doing the same to Rhemann and sitting just *within* range so he can be the easier more subdued target, because all fighting ever got him was more pain in the end and fighting back taught Neil how to survive.
Something about the parallels between these two long lost perfect court partners who never were and never will be. Jean was a whipped dog at his Master's beck and call, while Neil was the repeated thorn in their sides because he could never willingly make their lives any easier. Neil was born to struggle while Nathaniel was there to bear it just like Jean.
Jean gave up on Yves and Elodie and Marseille but Nathaniel clung onto Abram, onto Mary, and finally Neil and his foxes.
#aftg rambles#literary parallels#aftg#all for the game#tsc#the foxhole court#neil josten#jean moreau#the sunshine court#the sunshine court spoilers#no one talk to me i made myself sad again#made myself sad#nora sakavic#perfect court players#perfect court partners </3
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everyone talks abt neil if he was "nathaniel" and a part of the perfect court but the REAL perfect court would have been:
riko moriyama (#1)
kevin day (#2)
nathaniel wesninski (#3)
jean moreau (#4)
andrew minyard. (#5)
LIKE !? the most insane lineup that uve ever seen. they would walk onto a court and be the scariest group uve ever witnessed omg?? and if they let neil and andrew play w the aggression the ravens were taught? they would be killing ppl on the court!
#talk abt a deadly investment#dont even get me started on andrew being number 3 on the foxes and kevins partner and aaron minyard being number 5#aftg#andrew minyard#neil josten#kevin day#riko moriyama#jean moreau#the perfect court#all for the game#andreil#kevjean
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Could I get Adam, Lute and Lucifer and how they 'court' the reader? Like how birds with court each other, little gifts, wing 'dances', nesting, etc...
Also, could I be your 🐌 anon? <3<3<3
Birds of a Feather
Adam, Lute and Lucifer courting you
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Peacocking has nothing on The First Man
• His personality is amped up to the highest level when he sees you walk in a room
• (Overcompensation for how fucking nervous you make him)
• Adam gets cocky when he knows he has your attention
• Tossing grapes high in the air and catching them in his mouth, bragging louder than usual about something or the other
• Heaven forbid you laugh at any of his antics, (His smirk is dangerous, “Oh you like that?”) he’ll start singling you out in front of everyone, calling your name before he acts up
• Performances include inviting you to watch his band play and miraculously getting more energy
• Casually tosses guitar picks in your direction— and when he finds out you kept one!? He’s over the moon
• He won’t go out of his way to get you food but he’ll order you something if he goes somewhere
• Adam hates nesting. He doesn’t like being stressed in general and nesting is really fucking stressful!
• The very fact seeing you pricks the urge in him to nest drives him insane
• (AKA, he likes you a lot more than he thought he did!)
• Seeing you in his space does something he doesn’t particularly hate though
• “It’s whatever if you don’t like it.” Adam shrugs
• “No, I think it looks nice! Very you. Tell me about these pictures?”
• He’s fucking done for
˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Like they have a mind of their own, her wings stretch out and audibly fluff up when she makes eye contact with you
• Mortifying is an understatement
• She picks out trinkets to give to you at first, something small that could be waved off as insignificant
• Later, when Lute realizes her affections are returned, she brings useful offerings or something you offhandedly mentioned needing
• She wishes she could tell you about the exterminations solely to brag
• See how fierce she is, how skilled she is, how good of a protector she could be for you
• Lute will ask you to arm wrestle as a compromise. She gets to hold you hand and show off her strength!
• Nesting was fine, it was the judgment part that drove her up a wall
• Watching your eyes roam over her apartment, deciding whether or not it was good enough for you? Gah!
• “What, uh—“ Lute clears her throat, she’ll hate herself for even asking later, “What do you think?”
• You smile knowingly, something else that makes her absolutely mad, “It’s perfect.”
• Lute beams with pride like she’s won a great victory
˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚
• Never before has he felt the need to actually flaunt.. anything?
• With you it hits him like a fucking train and it’s even harder to supress it
• He’s Lucifer! That’s supposed to be self explanatory, that’s supposed to be enough
• Suddenly he’s checking every mirror on his way to you, making sure he looks better than he feels
• He tries to find other ways to steal your attention or show that he would be a worthy partner
• …But showing off his wings couldn’t hurt, right? He has six after all. If you needed to get to the other side of town he’d be more than happy to fly you over!
• Nothings too good for you! If Lucifer thinks you’ll want or like something, he’s buying it!
• Did you notice he can make things too? He’ll make you something— or fix something for you!
• Quick, break that so he can show you he can fix it!
• Lucifer pulls all the stops trying to prove himself, nesting is no exception… he’s just not great at it
• He starts! However a little after beginning he realizes just how big his mansion is and gets overwhelmed so he closes all the doors and focuses his energy on the only room that matters; his
• “I mainly stay in here,” Lucifer explains while squishing a duck in his fist, watching you explore his room, “I cleaned it up for you! N-Not for you, not for that— I mean not that I’m opposed! I just meant so that you could, uh, see?”
• “I see why you like it, I’d never wanna leave.”
• You’re gonna kill him saying shit like that
~
╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ 🐌 CAN I GIVE YOU A KITH BECAUSE THIS WAS SO FUN!!!!!
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel imagine#hazbin hotel headcanons#lucifer morningstar x reader#lucifer morningstar headcanon#lucifer morningstar imagine#hazbin hotel adam headcanon#hazbin hotel adam imagine#hazbin hotel adam x reader#lute headcanon#lute imagine#lute x reader
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Andrew and Jean both having the number 3… Jean being Neil’s intended perfect court partner and Andrew being Neil’s chosen exy partner…ive connected the dots
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VILLAIN LAWYER TIM DRAKE
listen listen to me everyone sit down and listen
Bruce and Dick keep nagging Tim about how he dropped out of high school despite the fact he’s successfully topping the charts as the youngest CEO in the history of forever of a Forbes top 3 company, so he gets his GED and secretly goes to college and then passes the bar exam to become a lawyer, like how Daredevil from MARVEL is a lawyer for heroes. Except instead of heroes Tim is a VILLAIN lawyer and he’s VERY GOOD at his job.
He loves when Bruce Wayne has to attend a court session bc the defendant villain destroyed 47 million dollars worth of Wayne Co owned infrastructure, and Tim is at the stand successfully bringing the debt amount down. Every dollar off, Bruce looks more Tired and Defeated and it fuel’s Tim’s energy more than any coffee brand ever could.
Also Tim is in the perfect position to work hand in hand with the Goonion. He does pro bono work for them. He has an entire Goonion-partnered campaign just to steal workforce from the Joker.
Slogan: “Why work for the Joker when your chances of him killing you are worse than Two-Face’s 50/50? Riddler has life insurance policies and dental! Red Hood has life insurance policies, health and dental, and a solid PTO plan! Don’t work for a clown 🤡 who’s just gonna screw you over 😔 Gothamites are smarter than that!”
#Tim drake#he is fueled by spite#Bruce should have figured that out before he poked the sleeping dragon#Batfamily#Batman#lol
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PICK A CARD - HOW WILL YOU MEET YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE
╰┈➤ Paid readings
left to right
★ pile 1 - When you meet this person you might be in a relationship that’s failing because of lack of commitment or growth. When you meet your fs you will be able to connect on an intellectual level, you’ll find conversations with them stimulating. Yeah for some of you I really see that you will break up with your partner to be with this person but this is absolutely the correct decision. You and your fs’ meeting will be destiny, the stars will literally align for you to meet this person. You or your fs will think "how did I get so lucky?". You will take this relationship slowly, go with the flow and let things develop as they go.
★ pile 2 - Your fs might be your soulmate. This relationship will be such a harmonious one, you will be the type of couple to NEVER have fights. Everything will be so easy with this person, as if they’re one part of you. I’m ngl this person might be an ex for some of you where you thought this person was the one and you still harbour feelings for them. They might’ve been the one if they come back and rekindle your relationship. However for the rest this might also mean that you had a bad breakup and lose hope over meeting the one. They might be an Aquarius. In ANY case, you will be in a relationship with the one destined for you. The future with you and this person will be bright.
★ pile 3 - I see you going into a relationship with your fs might’ve been something spontaneous on your part. Like you might’ve had a crush on them for awhile but did nothing and then one day you’re like "let’s go ask them out". I see you might start a family with them even accidentally because I see you and your fs having a lot of sex. I see some people might be jealous of your relationship and try to stir trouble so be careful. For some reason you and your fs’ relationship might cause a scandal. This might actually cause a rift in your relationship and you will need to take a step back. Maybe this is why people will try to break you up. However, people will come around and accept your relationship as time goes. You and your fs will connect on a physical and emotional level, it will also challenge you. Again, I see for some of you having children maybe quite rapidly. If your fs is a man you will think he’s dad material and if it’s a woman you will think she’s mom material. This is a very exciting pile but also full of challenge however at the end you both will be a happy family. This kind of reminds me of the quote "I’m not easy to love", "I don’t want easy".
★ pile 4 - I see a lot of people vying for your attention. When you meet your fs you will have more than 1 suitor waiting to court you. How you will know which one is your fs, you’ll have learnt from past relationships. This new relationship will be very nurturing, I see your fs might have a lot of money and they love spending it on you by buying you gifts and other. This person will be very masculine. Romance and affection will be abundant in the relationship. They will be devoted, romantic and a great spouse and parent. They might be older than you and they’re generous with their time and money ESPECIALLY for you. They might be an Aquarius, Gemini or Libra. They will be mature, loyal and protective. Think of the perfect Dad and there you have it. There’s a possibility you might meet this person because of work or business. You will be financially stable with them and will florish knowing you have a strong foundation.
#tarotblr#love pac#free tarot#daily tarot#pac tarot#lover pac#pick a deck#pick a card#pick a tarot#pick a pile#divination#relationship pac#tarot pac#kpop tarot#astrology#pac reading#free astrology reading#astrology readings
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backhand stroke (18+)
tennis coach!Aemond x tennis player!reader
Rivals on and off the court, things come to a head between the two when Aemond crosses the line and sabotages the reader's relationship.
themes : challengers inspired, Art Donaldson is featured <3, a lot of cussing, smut!!! (minors dn fckin i), the reader and Aemond hate each other (but if they hate each other why are they fcking), reader may or may not be a cheating bastard, Aemond has a glass eye + he calls the reader ace
a/n : initially I was about to write a fic where Aemond and the reader are actual rivals themselves, but quickly remembered how tennis works 💀 so in this one, Aemond is a coach and reader is a player 🎾
word count : 8k ▪︎ masterlist
The Westeros Open is the biggest and most prestigious tennis tournament in the country.
Anyone who wants to be someone in the sport aims to qualify for it.
For you, it is everything. You have devoted your entire life to tennis. It started as something that stemmed from your parents' neglect. Rich folks who signed their young daughter up for extensive tennis lessons just so they can be free of her and galivant off to wherever.
You had sat there, staring at your shiny, brand-new white tennis shoes. Holding your unused top-of-the-line racket. Hair kept away from your face with a headband that still smelled like the store.
Mostly left alone by your family, you gathered your strength, and dragged your weak eight-year-old legs across the tennis court day in and day out.
Through the years, you found yourself. You found home, and you gave everything you had to make sure you would never lose it.
As luck would have it, you found romance along the way in Art Donaldson, who became your coach after your previous one decided to quit. He used to be a player, until he fell out of love with the game, and chose to coach up and coming players instead.
You had been wary of getting involved with him, but eventually you couldn’t resist. He turned out to be the perfect boyfriend - caring, sweet, attentive to your every need. He became your partner in both tennis and in life. Truly, you couldn’t want for anything else.
You shouldn’t.
So why does it feel like there is something missing?
And why is that void one that only Aemond Targaryen can fill?
The gigantic poster propped up in the inner courtyard of the country club lets everyone know that your next qualifying match in the Westeros Open is against none other than Helaena Targaryen.
Your image looms up to around twenty feet, with Helaena’s lithe figure on the other side. The perfectionist in you can’t help but scrutinise the details in your expression and your form. Was that really what you looked like mid-serve? You laugh dryly, feeling silly at your misdirected concern.
You like Helaena, and she’s always been cordial to you outside of your matches. The issue lies with her more brash and calculating brother and coach.
Something - or rather someone - shuffles behind you. Close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stand on attention.
"I wish I could say that you look good up there, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”
Think of the devil and he shall appear. You don't have to turn around to know who it is.
Aemond fucking Targaryen. Once at his prime, known for his freely expressing his passion and rage on the court, earning him the title 'the bad boy of tennis'. It was this drive, this relentlessness, that propelled his game. Unfortunately, it also served to be his downfall. After a few years as the sport's #1 male player, his career came to an end after an off-court altercation with an opponent that took his eye.
Now he is the coach of one of your top rivals and upcoming match opponent, his sister Helaena.
Which is why it should come as no surprise to you that he has made it his mission to get under your skin, with all his unwarranted flirty remarks, constant staring, and how he tirelessly interacts with everything you post on social media.
It used to be tame, by his standards anyway, with things like, ‘You need to work on that backhand’ or ‘I’m guessing Donaldson doesn’t train you well enough.’
But then the messages took a different turn. You once posted a picture of you in a fancy, revealing gown when you attended the annual gala, and he responded with, ‘It’s easy to see that all your training has paid off, ace.’
You chocked it all up to playful aggression. He’s just trying to get you to lower your guard, and distract you. You knew better than to look too much into the apparent interest he gives you.
He is notorious for being a playboy, after all. Dirty blonde hair perfectly tousled, designer tracksuits he wears with such snobbishness, a presence that can command an entire room. You’ve grown to heavily dislike the seemingly permanent smug sneer on his lips, and how he sometimes treats others like they’re nothing but gum stuck on the soles of his fancy tennis shoes.
A handsome rogue who possesses a lot of talent and who is aware of his status as a hot commodity can be dangerous indeed. If he can say that Helaena Targaryen’s best opponent is nothing but another notch on his bedpost, then he will never let that live down.
More importantly, you are already spoken for. Aemond knows this - not that he cares - but whatever he thinks about your relationship doesn’t matter.
“Aemond.” You don’t turn to face him, continuing to scrutinise the gigantic poster. “Is that the best you got?”
He shrugs, positioning himself right in your line of sight, clearly demanding more attention. “You don’t just look good. You look good enough to fucking eat, ace. Too bad about the shitty attitude.”
Hot then cold, nice then nasty. Aemond will never change. Rolling your eyes, you say, “I thought I told you not to call me that. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else training your sister? She’s gonna need it.”
He steps closer, invading your space. You look him directly in the eye like you’re squaring up with an opponent. This has always been your dynamic. Neither one backing down, neither one ever really dealing a blow.
Just constant dizzying electricity.
Sooner or later, it will all come to a head. Whether it will be your fault or his, the jury is still out on that.
“Oh, I’m sure she will,” he patronises, his deep blue almost violet eye sparkling. On the opposite was his glass eye, only adding to his intimidating nature. He hadn’t opted for one that resembled his real eye, but rather a hazy white apparatus, making him appear ghoulish, almost ghostlike. Nestled in his left eye socket, framed by a faded maroon gash, it made him look every bit like the charismatic rogue of tennis that he is known to be. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere receiving instruction from Donaldson? Not that you’ll get much out of it.”
“Art and I are on top of our training, not that it’s any of your damn business. You should concern yourself with your sister’s game.”
“If only that were actually true, ace, but unfortunately I believe that your sweet Art wastes too much of his fucking time being on top of you.”
“Fuck off, Targaryen,” you respond, trying to push the allure of his scent out of your mind. Pungent cologne and cigarette smoke, a blend that you’ve come to associate only with him. “Stay out of my business, and quit messaging me.”
“You like how we talk.”
“Trust me, I don’t.”
“Does Donaldson know?” Fully aware that Art has never had a liking for him, he knows that will hit a nerve.
Your face falls, like you’ve been caught in the act. Even though you've done nothing wrong. Occasionally caving in and responding to Aemond’s messages surely isn’t crossing the line. What started out as a couple of offhand fuck offs from your end turned into actually sharing private jokes about the other matches and training and - heavens forbid - small talk about the goddamn weather.
You’ve come to know that his favourite colour is green. Not the neon of a tennis ball, but a bluish-tinted pine.
Not that it matters.
Encounters such as this one also don’t mean anything. Never mind however much you find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? You have eyes, and you’re only human. Nothing more to it.
Never mind how, some nights, in what can only be construed as momentary states of delirium, you have imagined him in Art’s place.
Never mind just how much he gets under your skin, like no one else can, and how you can’t admit to yourself that you might actually like it.
Oh, you might actually be making yourself sick at all these thoughts.
“There’s nothing for him to know.” You step to the side, indicating that you want to walk away. But he has you cornered and you both know it.
He smirks, “Keep telling yourself that, ace. But you can’t deny - ” He steps close again. He suddenly tilts your face toward him with one hand, but you shake your head and his fingers lose their hold. “ - this. Us.”
Damn him. And damn the shiver that just ran up your spine.
You stand still, entranced by the look he’s giving you. Trick or not, Aemond sure does have a way of looking at you as if he sees you for who you really are. Not the tennis prodigy. Not the public personality. You remain a shell of that broken kid that poured everything she had into this sport, much like he had, only to come out the other end still not whole, still searching for something inexplicably out of reach. And he sees just that - just you.
You feel like Art holds you up on a pedestal, not seeing the flaws that make you who you are. But you’ve always been happy to play the perfect girlfriend.
Until Aemond.
But he’s too much. Too forward, too brash, too intoxicating. You can never know what he’s going to do next. You can’t like him. You have to be certain that you don’t.
But then again… love and hate have always been two sides of the same coin.
He whispers, clearly pleased with the effect he has on you, “Match point, ace.”
Match point. You could have him. He could have you. He makes it evident that the next move is all yours. “Don’t go out of bounds, Targaryen,” you warn him lowly.
“What if I want to?”
You have him. He has you.
And you… have Art.
Clearing your throat, and your head, you finally step back. His head snaps up to follow you, disappointment evident on his face.
“See you around, Targaryen.” You spin on your heel, walking away, immediately feeling lighter. Emptier, feeling like your body begs to drift closer to him, two equal magnets.
“Ace,” he calls to you, walking after you when you don’t turn around. “Wait a second,” he reappears right in front of you, effectively halting your stride.
You grumble hastily, “God, you really have a space issue, don’t you, Aemond?”
“Meet me in the courtyard gardens,” he says, a new intensity lacing his voice, “tonight. After dinner. Or whenever you can. Just - ”
“No.”
“Come on, ace.” His tone is insistent, with no trace of his usual bravado and cockiness. “I think… I need to tell you something.”
Part of you wants to cave in, and just agree to whatever it is that he’s proposing, but that nagging voice in the back of your mind is adamant that it would not be right. What would Art think? But what if Aemond truly just wants to tell you something?
“So tell me now.”
His jaw clenches hard, and you can’t help but admire the taut edges of his face. “No, I want to do this, just you and me. When we’ll be alone - ”
“Aemond - ” you start to shake your head, trying hard to come up with a refusal that he will actually register.
“Donaldson doesn’t need to know,” he almost pleads. “This is between you and me, ace. You just have to hear me out.”
You take a deep breath, unable to understand just what it is he means. “If it’s something I have to hide from my boyfriend, then it’s not gonna happen. You have to see just how messed up that is, Targaryen.”
Either he can’t hear you, or he just does not want to accept your response. “I’ll wait for you. Right around midnight then, ace? Should give you plenty of time to sneak out.”
Before you can say no, again, he hastily plants a kiss on your cheek. Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation, in surprise and perhaps pleasure at the softness of his lips, and when you open them once more, he is no longer flooding your space.
You spy him entering a set of glass doors, leaving you there stunned.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Aemond kicks at another pebble, the sound momentarily breaking the silence in the gardens.
He’d checked his watch just seconds before, the face of it spitting on what remains of his eagerness.
Twelve fucking fifteen.
Either you just got held up by your whiney rat-faced boyfriend, or you’re a no-show.
Aemond doesn’t know which one is worse. He did not know what he was expecting in the first place. Did he actually think that you would do as he says? You never were good at following orders, much less those from someone whom you likely view as something of a nuisance.
Is that really what you see him as? Isn’t there something more at play here?
Something that keeps Aemond up at night, when he can no longer deny that it is not because he dislikes you that you plague his thoughts, but because he admires you. He does admire you, he sees no shame in admitting that.
As a tennis player. As a competitor. Anyone who feigns ignorance at your insane potential would just be lying to themselves.
As a woman? A… partner? No. It has to be no, doesn’t it? You hate him, you make it clear now and again. You disagree with him, challenge his views, point out his flaws. Surely, he can’t be attracted to you in a way that commands his heart. You are beautiful, he doesn’t deny this, but so were the dozens of other girls he had run through.
Each time he watches you perform your signature backhand stroke, with that sensual growl escaping your lips and the lewd grace with which your body bends, Aemond feels his sanity slipping away.
You drive him crazy, but he can't be crazy about you.
The only reason he asked you to meet him, is because he wants to propose that he replace Art as your coach. Helaena has expressed that she wants to retire, and focus on some other creative pursuits. Something insignificant to Aemond, that he can’t remember what it was exactly. A pottery business? A fucking flower shop? He doesn’t care to know.
It’s perfect, he thinks, because your game is superior anyway. It’s what first got his attention, and now he can take part in your process. He can direct you, shape you. He can do so much better than Art Donaldson, and he’s sure you know this too.
Maybe then you might actually open up to him the way you opened up to Art. With your absence tonight, it dawns on him that he might actually have to resort to other measures. Did he seriously think he would be able to simply reason with you about this?
He sits for another half-hour on a bench nestled among the rose bushes. Surrounded by flowers of deep scarlet, a maroon he distinctly remembers as being your favourite colour. He fools himself into believing that he’s using the time to craft a plan for what’s to come, and not that he’s wasting it on the hope that you might emerge from the tall hedges, out of breath and eyes glinting eager to find him.
Well, you played your hand. Now he knows what he has to do.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
You wake up groggy the following morning, having tossed and turned the entire night, thinking about Aemond.
Had he been out there, waiting for you? Your mind came up with the different possibilities of what he has to say. Or if he had nothing to say at all, and it was all just another ruse.
You told yourself that you didn’t want to meet up with him, but you had an alibi prepared. One of your old tennis club mates agreed to cover for you and say that you were having drinks together, just in case Art ever checks up.
But as you were about to deliver the excuse, Art had said something about you and him not getting to spend as much quality time anymore. The past few weeks have been occupied with nothing but tennis, and though it’s a shared activity that you both value, he wanted to stay in for the night with you. He ordered room service, downloaded two films that were on your watchlist, and whispered sweet nothings in your ear until you eventually gave up on meeting Aemond.
It can wait, whatever it is.
Besides, isn’t this the right thing to do? Did you seriously consider having a midnight rendezvous with the guy who you claim to dislike the most? Someone who encourages you to keep secrets from your boyfriend? What good could possibly come out of that?
With a heaving sigh, you push all thoughts of last night from your mind. There are bigger things at hand. The biggest tennis tournament of the year, for one.
You make your way to the dining hall of your hotel. Art had woken up before you, pressing a loving kiss to your cheek and explaining how he had to discuss some matters with your physical team. He wore the skin of a tennis coach as perfectly as that of a boyfriend.
And here you are, regretting that you were unable to meet up with another man the previous night.
The art deco layout of the lobby extends into the spacious dining hall, the interior of the hotel filled with geometric patterns and rich jewel tones. You once bid Aemond guess what your favourite interior design was, and he got it in two tries, complete with a spiel of how it reflects your personality. Art, on the other hand, had been adamant that your favourite was minimalist. That was the first time you realised that his perspective of you was different from Aemond’s.
You hadn’t yet reconciled with who is more accurate, lest it shine a light on something deeper.
The hostess is cheerful and full of pep as she leads you to your table. You know it’s coming - she’ll ask you for a picture in just a moment, and you’re proven right when she reaches in her pocket and her phone materialises inch by inch. She seems shy to ask, ready to turn on her heel with a stiff smile if you refuse, so you do your best to be encouraging.
When the photo is taken and she finally lowers her phone, you spy someone out in the distance and you make it out to be none other than your boyfriend. Leaning by the outdoor terrace, appearing to be speaking to another person you can’t yet make out, their face obscured by the decorative shrubbery scattered across the area.
You walk to the side to get a better view of who it is. That tall figure, clad in a black tracksuit… a familiar head of blonde hair… and the unmistakable cut of his jawline. Realisation sets in. Art is speaking to Aemond.
Your stomach sinks, the thought of breakfast no longer enticing. Frozen in the middle of the dining hall, you begin to attract the attention of others.
Aemond turns his head, perfectly timed for his gaze to meet yours. Like something out of a grim movie, your anxiety spikes as his smug smirk materialises in slow motion.
If there ever were a match at hand between you two, that smirk makes it clear that he has won it.
Art follows his gaze, also meeting yours, but without any trace of satisfaction. He looks at you accusingly. You shake your head at him, but you already know.
This is not going to end well.
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“Is it true?”
You had wordlessly followed Art back to your hotel suite, the air around you thick with dread and anticipation.
“What did Aemond say?” You stand in front of him as he calmly sits by the window, as if you’re on the trial stand. You just might be.
“Guess,” Art spits mockingly. “Why don’t you tell me? You seem to know him quite well.” You bristle at his tone. He’s never spoken to you like this before.
“Whatever he told you, it’s not what it looks like, okay? You know Aemond. He likes to mess around with people, especially us.”
Art shakes his head in disbelief, “He even showed me some of your messages. Some of them you must have sent - what, at 3 or 4 in the fucking morning? When you’re lying next to me in bed? Not getting a lot of sleep apparently. It must be why you’re not on top of your game.”
He’s not playing fair, and you deserve this.
“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say through gritted teeth, making the statement sound as firm as possible, because it’s not just Art you’re attempting to convince. You want to believe it too.
“He’s said some things about me.”
“And I defended you.”
“Not well enough,” he shakes his head. “It sounded almost normal for you. Spewing bullshit to each other.”
“It’s just… it’s all just banter.” God, you sound so terrible. “Riling each other up to get into the mindset before matches.”
“All that… all that, I can kind of understand. It’s the other things. The intimate things that get on my nerves.”
“What - ” You can’t form the proper response to that.
“I missed talking to you, he once said. To which you replied that you do too.”
“That’s nothing.”
“You said that he inspired you.”
“That’s… that… he’s a great talent,” you stammer, as the statements he throws worsen. “He always has been. Even you can’t deny that.”
The argument goes on for an uncomfortable length of time, with Art reminding you of things that you and Aemond had apparently messaged each other, and you trying to play them off as insignificant.
Gradually, you convince Art that Aemond is just a thorn in your side. That Aemond was just overplaying the messages to get under his skin. That letting this break your relationship would be giving Aemond what he wants.
But everything he said - the messages he brought back to the surface, the encounters that were brought up - made you realise the depth of your involvement with Aemond.
You are fooling yourself, just as much as you are fooling Art.
He finally stands, heading towards the door. “I’ve spoken to our physical team. Meet us at the gym in 15.”
“Art.”
He halts, but he doesn’t turn to face you. You’re worried about what you’ll see in his face if he does.
“Are we okay?” you ask.
He turns to the side, and you catch a glimpse of the man you love, his once blithe demeanour reduced to a brief, forced smile. He nods once, and you sag in relief. When he is finally out the door, you collapse onto the bed and press your knuckles to your eyes.
You feel it all at once.
Anger. Frustration. That fear of inevitability coming to fruition. This was bound to happen and a part of you knew it was coming.
Aemond screwed you over, and it’s high time you put an end to everything.
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The gardens. Midnight.
The message had been sent. The last one you will ever send to Aemond Targaryen if things go as planned.
You have it rehearsed and perfected in your mind - how you will give him a piece of your mind, how you will tell him off and tell him to fuck off for good.
As long as you think of Art… As long as you don’t lose yourself, then…
“You’re lucky I’m not standing you up, Ace. Not like what you did to me.” The bastard has appeared directly behind you, as per his custom, so close you can feel his breath on the nape of your neck.
You immediately turn to face him, and he stands calmly in his signature black tracksuit, his lips curled in their usual manner. “I never agreed to meet you that night.”
His smile is derisive, the sight of it sharp and cruel under the moonlight. “I thought we had sort of a code of honour, you and I. That we’d never lie to each other. Never let the other person down.”
“Honour?” you say mockingly. “I call bullshit. Trying to ruin my relationship… is that part of it?”
He looks away, shaking his head at your accusation. “I only did what you don’t have the fucking guts to do. Your relationship with Donaldson was ruined the moment we…” He trails off, brows furrowing. His gaze meets yours, revealing the truth that sits underneath his mask of arrogance. One that only you are allowed to see. He appears to take on a different smile this time, softer and less pronounced. The curses you want to hurl get caught in your throat when he looks to your lips and hums faintly to himself, almost as if he’s forgotten that you are in the middle of an argument.
You take a step back, and it shakes him out of his reverie. It shakes the both of you out of it.
“Well? Let’s fucking hear it then.” You raise your arms in a gesture, egging him on.
“Hear what?” he says, having the gall to be confused.
“What did you want to tell me that night? Tell me now, because you’ll never get the chance again.”
He straightens, getting his thoughts in order. He completely forgot about that issue, and talking is increasingly becoming the last thing he wants to do right now. He wants to put his lips to better use. Something more worthwhile. “Helaena’s retiring,” he finally decides on saying, “and I think I should be your coach.”
You’re dumbfounded for a moment, his proposition whirring in your head. It makes sense, it does. He just gets you. But then again…
“That’s rich,” you reply. “Do you think I would ever give up Art? He’s always been my coach and he’s damn good at it.”
“You’re not compatible,” he counters, “in the court and out of it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“He doesn’t see you,” he affirms. He would never lie to you, and he isn’t about to start now. He repeats, “He doesn’t see you, but I do.”
His words strike true, and it feels as if he’s just pulled the rug from underneath you, and you’re falling, falling…
Right into his arms. And the impact is jarring, because it’s real.
“We can’t.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper, a reflection of your weakening restraint.
“Yes we can, ace.” He takes a step closer, and he lifts his hand as if on instinct, reaching for your face. But he’s frozen, unsure of how far he can toe the line that already lies fragile between you. “It should be you and me.”
Your eyes follow his movements, because you know you want him to give in and hold you. To touch your face. To kiss you.
And it’s wrong. It’s all wrong.
“I have to go.” Your voice carries no emotion. You avert your gaze at the last second and catch the defeat that flashes across his face. It should come as a surprise that it pains you to see him like this, but then again, you see him as he sees you. You always have. Which renders your next words among the most painful to come out of your mouth. “We can’t do this anymore. Art already doesn’t trust me, and if this goes on, it’s only going to make things worse. I can’t talk to you - ”
“No.”
“- and I won’t be responding to anything- ”
“Stop fucking talking.” His anger is fledgling, rising to the surface. There is no way he will calmly accept these terms. “I said no, ace.”
“It’s… it’s the right thing to do,” you murmur, still unable to look at him. “I’m sure I’ll see you around. We run in the same circles. But we can’t be… us.”
“Forget it,” he seethes, trying to catch your eyes, and growling low when you don’t relent. “Forget him, ace. Or do whatever the fuck you want. But not this, I’m not having this.”
You exhale, having gotten the worst of it out of your chest. It’s over now. But it’s not a relief that you feel. It’s remorse.
“Goodbye, Aemond.” With that, you finally take him in once more, and one glance is enough to shatter your resolve. His heightened ill temper shines clearly across his distinguished features. Under the midnight moon, he resembles a fallen angel, long dark blonde lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. His shadowy, glass eye strangely adding to the appeal.
Beautiful. And just not yours.
One last, lingering look - then you walk away. The silence is deafening, and you feel numb all over. Your knuckles are taut at your sides, fingernails digging in your palms to keep those pesky, errant tears at bay. You’ve suffered defeat before, but this is much worse, because it’s coming solely from your own hand. How easily you give him up, someone who was never yours, and how badly it stings.
“No,” you hear him say again, and you pray he shuts up so you can keep walking.
He doesn’t. He repeats the word - no - over and over like some mantra under his breath. One second you feel nothing. Nothing at all. But then the wind whooshes around you and you’re being spun around to face him.
And then, his lips claim yours, and you feel everything.
Sounds come rushing back to you. His ragged panting against your lips, the pads of his fingertips kneading the back of your head, the wet smacking of his mouth on your own. The empty pit in your stomach is filled with those clichéd butterflies. More so when one of his hands travels down to grasp your waist and press your body against his.
“Aem - ” Your mind catches up to you, and you try to say his name to get him to pause, but he slides his tongue past your teeth.
“Shut up and kiss me, ace.” He breaks free for but a second, then hungrily kisses you again. You let him. You give in completely.
“Mmm, Aemond.” Your hands reach up to cradle his face and he takes that as an opportunity to pull back and openly admire you.
“You’re my ace,” he professes, connecting his forehead to yours. “And I’m not fucking losing you.”
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You rush through the lobby of the hotel, hand in hand and giggling like schoolchildren as you duck your heads so as not to get recognised by the night concierge.
With reckless abandon, your entwined bodies stumble into his suite, which just happens to be on the floor below yours. You once thought you would have to be inebriated beyond belief to surrender to a sin like this, and in a way you are. You’re high off of him - Aemond in his entirety, six feet of lean muscle, notorious foul-mouthed one-eyed libertine.
“Fuck, ace.” He has his arms wrapped around you from behind, and he nips at your exposed neck. His touch roams and finds the mounds of your breasts, kneading mindlessly over your shirt. The sound that reverberates from his throat is carnal, and you feel it echo through your whole body. It drives you to press your ass against him, taking full notice of his hardness straining from his sweatpants.
Feeling mischievous, you do it again, gripping his arms to anchor yourself while grinding against his cock.
“Foul play,” he whispers against your neck, “you fucking minx.”
“There are no rules now.” You face him, running a finger along his jawline as you walk backward and he follows suit. Stopping at the edge of his bed, you strip out of your shirt, careful to keep your eyes locked on his the whole time.
The movement is too slow for Aemond, and he desperately needs more. He pushes you onto the mattress and climbs on top of you. He slides your sweatpants off your legs, then lets his hand drag from your ankle to your inner thigh. He promptly undresses, graceless and in a rush, until all his clothes are left in a heap on the carpet.
His cock stands on attention, taut and goddamn long. You feel an ache below that compels you to rub your legs together, but he beats you to it and slides your underwear right off. “I’ve always wanted to taste you,” he croons. “Bet you taste so sweet.”
You take your bra off and you’re finally left completely bare. He spreads your legs and positions himself in between. He uses one hand to squeeze your breast and the other to keep your legs propped wide open.
His eye meets yours, before he settles in, lowering his head until he’s breathing cool air onto your pussy. “Match point, ace.”
You have him. He has you.
When Aemond’s tongue plunges deep into your throbbing core, swirling inside like he wants to consume you whole, you have to bite your tongue to hold back a scream.
He knows what he’s doing, of course he does, and he’s so fucking good.
“Yes - yes - keep going, baby, fuck - ” you moan, words breathy and irregular.
He sticks two fingers into your wetness, using it to spread you wider, leveraging his tongue ever deeper. In and out they go, faster than the fuck, fuck, fucks coming out of your mouth in blissful sputters.
He suddenly stops, a guttural hmm echoing from his lips, and you look down to see his lips coated in a mixture of his spit and your pre cum. “Not so fast, ace,” he taunts. “You’ll come when I say.”
You prop yourself up on your elbows, still widespread and exposed to him. “What, are you coaching me through it?”
He hums in affirmative and leans in to kiss you, juices still dripping from his chin.
“You gonna follow my orders, ace?” he asks, and your mind spirals at how utterly lewd it sounds.
“Wouldn’t you like that, Targaryen?” You let out another moan, biting your lip when he hungrily sucks on your breast. “Let’s see what you got first.”
He smiles at your playful instigation. It’s always come natural, this riffing back and forth. But this midnight dalliance - he wants it to be honest. He needs you to realise how much he wants you.
“Yes, ma’am.” He gets on his knees, a hand braced on each of your thighs, his hardened cock at the ready.
“Ma’am?” you breathe, a laugh dying in your throat when you his tip prods at your entrance.
“I can be agreeable under the right circumstances, ace.” He torments you by pushing his cock in but an inch.
“Fuck me, Aemond,” you cuss in frustration, then, literally, “Fuck me. Please.”
His eyes take you in, one darkened blue and one ghostly pale glass. “Well, since you asked so nicely,” he says. “You good for it, ace?” He nods once, referring to whether a condom is needed and you take the hint right away.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “Perks of having a top-of-the-line physio team. They hook you up on other things too.” Your cocky-athlete way of stating that you are on the pill.
The lights are dim in the room, but you clearly see the resolve settle on Aemond’s face. He parts his lips like he wants to say something more, and you tilt your head questioningly.
He feels the need to make some sort of declaration. Something true. It doesn’t seem right to say those damned three words at this moment, no matter how much he means them. You could think he’s trying to trick you in order to get what he wants. A good lay and nothing else. So he doesn’t say anything and lets the silence speak for itself. If you know him as you claim to, then you’ll see.
You’ll see just how much this means to him.
You nod, and it’s an unspoken plea.
He thrusts his cock into you with such force, stretching your walls with a sudden and blinding ache, until he is buried to the hilt. He reaches and cradles your face with one hand, the other keeping your ankle propped by his shoulder.
“Move, Aem.” You buck your hips against him, his cock squelching in and out again.
“Yeah, baby?” He complies with his hips in response. “That feel good?”
“Yes. God yes.”
A switch flicks inside of him, and he almost snarls through his teeth. “You feel so fucking good, ace. Your pussy takin’ me so well…” His hips buck faster, in abrupt snapping motions, burying his cock each damn time. He connects your legs together and turns you to your side, altering the position slightly.
You look behind your shoulder and see that feral look etched on his face. His grip is tight on the flesh of your hips and the curve of your ass, having it raised slightly for his convenience. He smacks your behind with an open palm, and it elicits a lusty moan out of you.
“Fuck, baby,” he rasps. “So beautiful like this, dripping around my fucking cock, huh? My good girl.”
The noises you release as a result are unintelligible. You press your face against the pillow in sheer pleasure, muffling your sounds.
“I wanna hear you, baby,” Aemond protests. With practised ease, he repositions you so your ass is propped high before him, your body bent forward as you have to lean on your forearms to keep from planting your face on the sheets.
He doesn’t ease up on his relentless thrusting, and you’re left squirming and cock-drunk. Your eyes rolling to the back of your head, you’re blissed-out on what only Aemond can give you.
“Does he fuck you as good?” he spits in obvious distaste. “I don’t think so, baby. Can’t fuck this pussy like I do.”
“N-no,” you whimper, without any trace of guilt. “Only you, Aem.”
“Hmm,” he simpers. “Come for me, ace. Be a good girl now. Come around my cock, yeah?”
“Mhhmm,” you pant, growing weaker and weaker at his statements, your walls tensing for that release you crave.
“You’re mine, ace. Mine.”
Your whimper comes out sudden and unrestrained as you let go, and feel your warm juices leaking down your thighs. The sounds of his cock growing noisy and sloppier. He releases not long after, with a few sharp spasms, decorating your insides with his cum.
Marking someone who is not supposed to be his.
But nothing else matters as he crumples against you and pulls you into his arms. If something is to be reconciled with, it won’t be for tonight.
With these things, regret always comes along with the sunrise.
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“40 - 30.”
The crowd cheers at the umpire’s announcement. You can barely make out the faces morphing together into one homogeneous mob, but you’ve observed enough to know that Aemond isn’t among them. Rivulets of sweat drip down your face and you walk to the side as another break starts.
Helaena nods at you from the opposite side of the court, and you respond with a terse smile.
She resembles him so much - the one you’ve been avoiding for the past three days. With that same distinct shade of blonde hair and deep blue eyes, but possessing an aura of tenderness about her. If Aemond wasn’t lying about her plan to retire, then it makes perfect sense. She seems too good for the sport, too pure, whereas you fit right into its cruel constraints.
What sort of person would have done what you did, some nights ago, and be able to walk with their head held high? You want to believe that you regret sleeping with Aemond, that you would reverse your actions, given the chance. But the pain that eats at you is that you might have fucked things up for good, abruptly leaving before he woke up that morning.
It’s ironic - you may just get what you said you wanted. To end things. Never to be the same with him again.
You slump in your seat, wiping at your face with a towel, pushing all thought of Aemond from your mind.
From your periphery, you catch Helaena gesturing to you. She smiles, and you think that your emotions must show so clearly on your face that she feels bad for you.
She nods, and tilts her head to the side, so that you follow her gaze. Standing courtside, partially hidden in the corner just behind the barriers, you see Aemond closely watching you.
He came after all. You turn back to Helaena, unable to hide your surprise, and she sends another smile your way. She knows. Of course she does.
With renewed excitement, the match continues. It only takes one more point, one final ace, and you emerge triumphant. The court fills with cheers and sounds of celebration. It is declared that you are advancing to the next round of the tournament. You meet Helaena in the middle and she firmly shakes your hand, exhibiting no sign of disappointment.
“Congratulations! Very well played.” She drops her racket and grasps your hand with both of hers. She leans closer, and adds, “You know, I also consider it a win for myself, because my last ever match is against the girl my brother is in love with.”
You forget where you are, the revelation rendering everything else moot. The cheering crowds disappear, and it’s just you and Helaena as she dips her head comfortingly, assuring you that you heard her words true.
“I’m sure I’ll see you soon,” she lets go finally, with a cheerful, “go celebrate!”
You feel yourself being whisked away, cameras flashing from all sides. Art appears in front of you and he pulls you into an embrace. Several onlookers gush at the sight. You barely take notice of them, your eyes already drifting to where Aemond was standing.
There he remains, casually leaning against the barriers. Some audience members realise that the great Aemond Targaryen stands among them, and one by one a small crowd forms around him, asking for pictures and autographs.
He continues to hold your gaze, his usual smirk making an appearance, ignoring a guy waving a camera at his face. You shake your head at the scene, a genuine laugh bubbling from your lips.
You nod to each other, as if acknowledging the absurdity of it all, and leave it at that. There’s a lot more to be said, for another time. Art wraps his arm around your waist, and Aemond takes it as his cue to look away, relenting to the eager fans surrounding him.
You direct your gaze to your boyfriend, immediately seeing the recognition in Art’s eyes. He’s seen everything.
He doesn’t need to be as acutely perceptive as Helaena to realise the truth. That of the one-eyed rogue and his ace. You’ve been drifting from him for so long, that it was only a matter of time.
He was your friend first, and he always will be. You’ve watched each other grow, through endless mistakes and challenges, and there’s a fire in you he cannot match.
But Aemond can. He knows this now.
He extends a hand out to you, one which you accept with poorly masked caution. He understands how woeful it must be, to tear yourself apart from being in love with someone else. The shame and uncertainty that must entail.
For both your sakes, he decides that he has to be the bigger person and do the right thing.
“What do you say?” Art offers to you. “Post match treat?” he asks, referring to your tradition of sharing a large strawberry sundae after games.
“Okay.” Your smile is sweet and unguarded, and it reminds him of when you first met, nearly six years ago. That day, he knew he had made a lifelong friend.
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“I wish I could say I’m happy to see you here, but we did once promise not to lie to each other.”
Aemond swivels toward the sound of your voice, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips.
“Vile habit, Targaryen.” You wrinkle your nose, and he just shakes his head and crushes the butt of his cigarette under his shoe.
“Yeah, well.” He merely shrugs. He was dead set on quitting, but something came up the past couple of days, causing his anxiety to reach new heights. When you ignored him after the night you shared, he can’t fault himself for reaching for depraved solace in nicotine. But no substance would ever be enough to erase the precious memory of watching you come undone.
“Not happy to see me, ace?” he refers back to your greeting, not bothering to hide the hurt he feels.
You walk closer to him, trying to hold back a smile. “Well, I lied. But it’s not like I haven’t lied before.” You stop when you’re right in front of him, the remnants of his smoke making you feel woozy. “I also lied when I said that we can’t keep being us anymore. When I said goodbye.”
“Hmm,” his lips curl at your confession. “Judging by how wildly you fucked me after you said that, I could already tell.”
You roll your eyes, but you already feel so much better, like things are falling right back into place. All it took was some teasing from the apparently callous, sharp-tongued, ambitious-to-a-fault boy standing before you.
A boy who revealed the true depths of his compassion only to you. He let you thaw out his cold heart from its confines and declared it yours.
“Something more to say, ace?” he asks.
“You first.”
“Are you kidding? Why don’t you play this game with your boyfriend?”
You share a lingering look, effectively answering his question. The unabashed shit-eating smile that breaks out on his face is enough to tell you just how he feels.
“Don’t gloat,” you warn him, but he’s already pulled you flush against him with both arms. “I also need a new coach.”
“Mhmm,” he nods, not really in response to your statement. “Save that for later, ace. Please shut the hell up and kiss me.”
He can’t help but smile through kisses, his lips chasing yours when you make an effort to pull away and say something more.
“Aemond, will you - ”
“Fuckin’ - ” a cuss slips from him when you manage to break apart, depriving him of your lips. He answers impatiently, “Yes of course, I’ll be your coach, ace. Of course. Happy? I’ll be anything you want me to be.”
Before he leans in once more, you say, “Don’t you dare fuck this up, Targaryen.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.”
You lean back in mild surprise.
He laughs, “I mean - ace - or my love. Either one applies, really.”
"I... I prefer ace," you say weakly.
"Now, now, my love. I thought we promised not to lie to each other?"
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#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen oneshot#house of the dragon#hotd#aemond targaryen au#ewan mitchell#ewan mitchell x reader
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I was making this bear (not exactly like the pattern) and I was thinking of a cute yandere bear hybrid living in a cute little cottage with their love 💕 so cute picking flowers then another monster comes and they go maniac and kill them so sweet 🐻 wanted to see what you think of Mr bear?
Another lovely work! I can certainly see your vision. <3 Content: gender neutral reader, fluff, violence, mentions of murder
Yan!Bear!Hybrid who is the sweetest soul you’ve ever met. Despite his enormous size and imposing appearance, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. Always soft-spoken, kind and caring. Easily scared and quick to stumble on his words if flustered. The discrepancy is almost comical.
Yan!Bear!Hybrid who spends his days gardening, cooking, or simply enjoying you nature. Life has been a dream ever since you decided to settle with him in his humble cottage.
Yan!Bear!Hybrid who can be so terrifying when angered. It happened within seconds. A beast sprung out of the forest, lunging at you with bared fangs. It was a courting gesture, you see. You’ve caught the eye of many creatures, to the dismay of your partner. Before you could blink, his massive claws tore into the foreign body. Tender flesh threaded away in bloody streams, and you stared in horror.
Yan!Bear!Hybrid was quick to wipe your fearful tears. Now, now, it was a necessity, you understand. The paws that murdered in wrathful haste a moment ago were now stroking your cheeks with newfound gentleness. It was for the best.
Yan!Bear!Hybrid does not play around when it comes to your safety. Your life together, in solitude, is perfect as it is. Everything else is a threat. You begin to understand why other forest dwellers avoid your home.
[More monsters] | [More original works]
#yandere bear hybrid#yandere#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere hybrid#yandere headcanons#hybrid x reader#monster x human
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Shadows will guide you home | Azriel × reader
Summary: Some fae don't like the idea of the Archerons turning into high fae and reader being one in unfamiliar city makes a perfect opportunity for an intervention Warnings: acotar related violence, not super descriptive, language, slight angst Word count: 1.4k a/n: Hii, this is my very first fanfic, please remember to be kind. <3 Also English is not my first language so it may be a bit rough.
Being another Archeron sister was quite exhausting. The constant comparison drawn between you ever since you were born created a dark place deep within you. After years of being poor, starved, and uneducated, the family regained their riches back thanks to Feyre. The cost left you empty, breaking your heart into a million pieces. You wanted your sister back more than anything, you would return your newfound lifestyle to have her with you again. Taking lessons together, sharing laughs, and pretending as if everything is normal. As if she never left and their father hadn't left them to starvation.
Instead, the Gods were laughing in your face as you with two of your sisters were changed and thrown into the world of high fae. While you got your sister back, there were matters to be taken care of. Leaving you alone in a city and with species foreign to you. You had met the inner circle while you were still human. They were nothing but kind to you then, but you assumed that was because you were Feyre's sister. Now they haven't paid you much mind because their hands were either full with court business you didn't understand or your sisters. You were left scarred inside while pretending it hadn't affected you as much.
''Are you listening?'' Asked a pretty blonde in a red dress, Mor. ''I'm sorry, I just spaced out a little. What were you saying?'' You smiled, red creeping up your cheeks. ''You are free to explore the city, you don't have to feel caged inside.'' She returned your smile. ''Oh, I don't feel like that. I...I guess it's kind of strange to be here. Is there an apothecary around here?''
''Yes, it's in the square just next to the bridge you can’t miss it,'' Mor replied. ''I must go, but I will see you during dinnertime.'' She smiled for the last time as she disappeared into thin air. She came by just to invite you as per Feyre's request. Your sister knew you were too polite to decline any offer and without it you would probably not show up.
''Right.'' You mumbled under your breath as you looked out of the window. In the reflection, you caught the sigh of a shadow. You whipped around to see nothing. Signing, you turned to the window again thinking about certain Illyrian familiar with shadows. When you first met him, he was like a rock that you could lean onto while the queens invaded your home. You talked, feeling an instant connection and thought he felt the same. You didn't remember what happened during the changing process, your brain blocked the memory altogether. But after waking up in Velaris, he didn't seem to notice you, rather seeking the company of your older twin sister.
You knew it wasn't rational to feel hurt by this, but that didn't stop your heart from throbbing. Exhaling a deep breath you went to explore the city as Mor suggested, feeling sick of your little pity party.
After hours spent in the city, it was starting to get dark. Nights here were magical, but your fear of them only amplified during years spent in the dark streets trying to provide for your family by any means necessary, so you tried to hurry back to the house. Taking a turn into an ally wasn't a choice you wanted to make, but panic started to take over every action your body made. Looking around you knew you were lost and didn't know where to go next.
''Looking for something?'' You whipped around with shock in your eyes. ''No, but thank you. My partner is just around the corner.'' You smiled politely your instincts kicking in as you lied smoothly. A shadow caressed your skin as if to soothe your worries and disappeared. You didn't have time to think about it more as the man standing in front of you stepped closer. ''Are you sure? We could help you, Y/N.'' Another dark figure from behind you said so near you could feel his breath on your neck. ''I don't know who you think I am, but that is not my name. And I do not need help from strangers. So let me pass.'' You tried to will your voice not to tremble, but it was of no use. You were starting to give in to the panic rising within you. ''And we don't need humans becoming high fae and hijacking our court. But here you are.'' Said a male in front of you while pulling out a knife. “This will send the message." Continued another one next to what you pressumed was the leader. One againts three were not the odds you prefered.
You had no idea how they found out your name or how they knew of your fate of becoming fae. "Feeling threatened by a female?" You knew getting a rise out of them was not the smartest idea. But maybe it could gain you valuable time for someone, anyone to notice. Velaris was supposed to be peaceful after all.
"You think you're funny, huh? We'll see if you'll find the knife just as entertaining." The male behind you pulled your hair harshly earning a scream from you. You didn't understand how they could blame you for something you had no control over. “Watch the alley, will you?” The male infront of you ordered the one standing next to him as he lifted his hand to your face. The knife danced lightly on your cheek leaving you defenseless. "Just so you know, maiming your face will be a pleasure." He whispered to your ear as he increased the presure on the knife drawing blood.
The whole alley turned pitch black. You had fae senses, but the dark was completely impenetrable yet familiar. You could only feel your hair being released, knife falling to the pavement, followed by screams and scratches on the stone. You were paralyzed, terrified, and unable to move. The dark had you in its claws and you could feel your breath getting more and more quick. ''How dare you hurt her ?'' A deep familiar voice took you out of your panic. There was no answer to his question. Only whimpers.
The shadows slowly dissolved letting in light from the main streets. There was no one here anymore. Only blood and scratches deep in the stone indicated a struggle.
Azriel appeared in front of you his hands gently grazing your untouched cheek. ''Don't look at it.'' His voice hoarse. You inhaled his scent making you instantly relaxed. ''Are you hurt?'' He asked worry lacing his voice. You gave him a shake of a head not trusting your voice. ''Lies. Shaken. Blood.'' Hissed hushed voice, startling you. ''I am not lying. I am just fine.'' You pushed Azriel away looking around for the source. ''You can hear them?'' Azriel frowned examining you.
''Look, I am sorry you had to bother with this. I know there are a lot of things to be done and I should have known how to protect myself-'' He stopped you from rambling with a thumb to your lips. His previous question forgotten. ''No one has a right to assault you. It is not your fault. Velaris is supposed to be safe. I promise that no one will harm you ever again.'' He left you completely stunned. ''Now, could you please show me where they hurt you, so we can heal it?'' Azriel asked slowly removing his thumb from your lips. Leaving you wishing it could stay there for a bit longer. You pushed back the hair that was covering your healing cheek. ''It's already healing. My abilities do come with very fast healing. As long as I don't use my powers much. I am just a bit shocked, that's all.'' You admitted looking to the stone path. ''Let's get you home then." He offered his hand which you gladly took your heart threatening to jump out of your chest.
''Look, Nesta started training with Cass and a few priestesses joined her. It is a way for them to regain their power and help them with their struggles. I was thinking that maybe it could be something you would give a try?'' Azriel asked as he led you through the house to your bedroom. ''Oh...I think I would like that.'' You smiled. Silence enveloping you again.
''Thank you, Az. For today and the offer.'' You looked down standing infront of the door to your bedroom. ''There is no need to thank me. But you should get some sleep.'' He looked at your door and then down the hallway. ''I will be right next to your room if you need anything. So please, let me know.'' He gave you a look of urgency and you gave him a nod even if you knew you would not. He probably knew it, too. ''Goodnight.''
"Goodnight."
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Jean is saved by the narrative when he's given number three instead of the four he would've gotten if Nathaniel was in the Perfect Court. Jean was given three, which means rebirth in Japanese, BUT what's even more interesting about that is what Riko stole from Jean: he stole his name, he stole Jean-Yves from him. Yves, which means Yew and symbolizes everlasting life and rebirth.
His number brand saved his life but Riko stole what made him feel alive, and he didn't get it back till he left the Ravens.
#aftg#all for the game#tsc#the foxhole court#jean moreau#the sunshine court#the sunshine court spoilers#jean yves moreau#perfect court#perfect court players#perfect court partners </3#jean 3 moreau#symbolism#literary parallels
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forty, love | natasha romanoff
part 2 | part 3
synopsis: winning was everything, and losing was a sin. unfortunately, you were on a losing streak, and natasha loved winning.
natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader
word count: 4.9k words
a/n: inspired by that one scene from challengers.
masterlist
“slice forehand.”
thwock.
“inside-out forehand.”
another thwock.
“move to the volley. hurry. your feet aren’t keeping up.”
despite the insult, the thwock lands. the ball bounces and hits right where you want it to hit. the singular drop of sweat that dripped onto the ground between your feet is not wasted, as you look up to your performance coach across the net, unamused sneer hidden behind his thick moustache.
“not fast enough?” you quipped.
he sighed, shaking his head. “don’t get ahead of yourself. you’re still number 2 in the state. if you want a shot at beating the princeton team, you’re still going to have to move much faster than that.”
you wiped the beads of sweat on your forehead, fixing the slightly loose hair tie, before nodding understandingly. still, you weren’t too happy at his latest onslaught of insults this past session. “you could have at least given me credit for the dropshot earlier when you came in. it was perfect.”
“perfect shots don’t get you the win. defeating your opponent does.”
he signalled that practice was over for the day, and you walked off court at the same time as he did to gather your things. the woman watching from the stands stood at that moment, and began her descent down to meet you in the locker room.
natasha romanoff walked up behind you as you changed, the sudden feeling of her hands on your bare skin a welcomed intrusion, as you sighed into her touch. she let herself have her hands full for a minute, roaming over your muscles until she was satisfied, before settling them on the edge of your shoulders, massaging the tight knots out of them. you were still so tense.
she pressed her lips lovingly on a scar, waiting for you to finish panting at the feeling of where her hands had been. “you were great out there today.”
“coach said otherwise.”
“mm,” she let you put on your shirt, turning you around to kiss you after, “you were fighting him back just as hard. are you okay?”
you zipped up your bag then, taking a moment to avoid her question, before, “do you think i’m like what he says? what they all say…?”
natasha motioned for you to continue. “that i’m all bark, no bite, now? that i’ve lost my mojo?”
“baby–”
“–because you can tell me straight up. i can take it. you’re my girlfriend, you can tell me, i can take it.” the room had suddenly gotten tense, a stark drop to your composure that you had managed to hide so well on the court. in the locker rooms, you were angry again. you had been angry for a while now.
“losing a few matches isn’t going to hurt your record, baby. you’re this college’s star player, you know this.”
“but losing four matches in a row is going to shatter my ego. my confidence. you of all people should know this!”
you had backed away from natasha, eyebrows raised, posture standoffish. she hated this. she hated seeing you like this. as bad as it was to say, she hated seeing you lose. it was the worst part of yourself that you let her see, when you lost. but what was she, as a partner, if not to stand by you through your career, your ups and down? she should be sharing your pain, taking some burden off of your shoulders, at the very least.
“just last week, i let it go to break point, and i still fucking lost!” you had raised your fist at this point, nearly punching it at the steel frames of the lockers, when you reminded yourself of just the complications that could arise from shattered knuckles. your coach would never let this go. but still, the gesture was there, and the fire in your eyes remained all too dangerous.
suddenly, you were pressed against the lockers, the weight of natasha’s body engulfing yours, as her arms came to hold you tight against herself. you were forced to embrace her back, despite your slight protests and pleas, but she was having none of it. she had wrapped you up in her tight, strong embrace, and her hands were finding themselves to bring your face towards hers, eyes boring into your own.
“nat–”
“–last week, last week, you were against a professional, baby. a nearly retired one at that, but she was fighting for wins at the australian open not too long ago. she’s been doing this longer than you have even started learning how to hit the ball. don’t be so hard on yourself, will you? nobody, nobody else, could have gotten to where you were with her. break point is a feat in itself.”
you didn’t look convinced. but she didn’t need you to look convinced; she needed you to listen. “do you understand? you need to look at things from a different perspective, from my perspective. not your coach’s, not your teammates, certainly not that player’s fucking groupies, who were gloating about your loss all the way out of the stadium. you need to believe in yourself, as i have always believed in you. and you can’t keep going on like this. do you understand me?”
natasha’s eyes never departed from yours, her gaze firm. her hands were shaking, a little unsure of your reaction, because as far as she knew, you didn’t look like you were going to back down from a fight. either with yourself or her, she didn’t know. she certainly hoped it was at least the latter.
but then, your gaze cast downwards, you nodded ashamedly. sighing into the air, you pressed your face into the crook of her neck for a moment, the height advantage letting you lift her up, and she cooed as she let you gather yourself.
“i understand.”
she patted the back of your head. like a mother would a petulant, but repenting child. “good. now let’s go get dinner, then a massage for your shoulders. then back to the gym first thing tomorrow morning.”
–
natasha watched you push around your vegetables for nearly half of dinner. she knew the campus meal tickets didn’t exactly provide for five-star dishes, but she had never seen you so down like this before. it was almost as if you had become a ghost of yourself.
“steve’s birthday is coming up soon.” she decided to change the topic, and hopefully, get your mind off of tennis for a minute.
you gave a nonchalant grunt, finally stabbing the piece of broccoli. she steadied herself. “should we get him the pair of boots he’s always wanted? i figured we could pull in wanda and clint too, if we want to get him a bigger gift.”
your eyes were still unfocused. it was as if she wasn’t there at all. “baby.”
you looked up, half-expecting natasha to be pissed. but she only gave you a small smile. “steve’s birthday?”
“we can get him the boots. i don’t mind paying for them. but i don’t think i’m going to his party.”
“why not? your match on that day ends in the afternoon.”
“yeah, but i think i’m going to be pretty tired.” not to mention if i lose.
natasha decided not to argue with you on it. she knew enough how touchy the subject of your career already was. instead, she jabbed the last piece of corn with her fork, and gestured for your mouth to open.
the both of you left shortly after.
–
in a friendly match the next weekend with the neighbouring college, you were faced up against the top ranking player once more. being a finals round, you had imagined that the crowd would be roaring with applause for how far you’d come, but when the sets began to balance after your first few strong starts and the heat of the afternoon sun began beating on everyone’s backs, the crowd dwindled out one by one from boredom and, to you at least, the possible disappointment of you losing.
it was only expected, from a disenchanted champion. the college’s once pride and joy, the one who was once regarded as a candidate with potential to win grand slams. unfortunately, people only really like you when you win.
but natasha stayed. and so did her friends, and your friends that she had managed to force to stay. you had gestured that they could leave if they wanted to, during the breaks, but they were afraid to even nod, or make a move, lest they wanted to be subjected to natasha’s ferocity, sitting behind them. it was almost humiliating that they stayed only because your girlfriend was forcing them to, you thought.
thwock. a missed shot from your end.
another thwock. “out!”
by your last mistake, the crowd had only left natasha, steve, and some die-hard groupies of yours that were slowly losing hope too. so when the final set was determined by your failure to execute a passing shot, and subsequently touching the net, the roars from the other side seemed almost mocking. you had lost.
natasha rushed down to the locker rooms again, only this time, your friends followed, and the absolute mortification that you felt, along with the pure anger and frustration of losing, overpowered any remaining sense of decency you had left.
the moment you spotted her coming in, then the company behind her, you almost felt like the first time the instinct to shatter your racket came to you.
“out! all of you, out!” you had screamed, not caring to be decent even to your teammates.
“come on, we just wanted–”
“–i don’t care, out! you’ve just come in here to humiliate me, haven’t you? gloating how i could lose, even in a friendly! how shit of a player i am, now!”
the people behind natasha grumbled, but one by one shuffled out. it was better to tell you about how unfair you were being another day, not when emotions were running so high. natasha was thankful they understood. but it didn’t make what you did any less unfair.
she sat beside you as you kept your head down. “that wasn’t very nice.”
“losing isn’t very nice.”
“they meant well, baby.”
“no, they don’t.”
“how many times do i have–”
“–a ton, okay, natasha?” you looked up, slamming your drink between the both of you. “a ton of times, you have to remind me. that my friends love me, that they’re here to support me. but how the fuck am i supposed to believe that when i don’t even have anything for them to support me for?”
“your friends don’t just love you because you’re good at tennis, my love. i don’t love you just because you’re good at tennis. this is ridiculous! i can’t believe we are arguing over this, i can’t believe you think of yourself so lowly like this.”
natasha was met with a deafening silence the moment she finished her last words, her chest heaving up and down from her own disappointment. the rest of the players had filtered out, upon hearing your argument, leaving only you and her there. like always.
your hand rubbed over your face resignedly, hands covering the beautiful eyes natasha loved loves staring into. she wanted to reach out, to pull your hands away from yourself, to even get you to answer her, to let her know that you at least believed you were better than this. but she was afraid of the answer she was going to get.
then, she heard a sniffle, and a small, choked sob afterwards. and that was it.
you were up standing the next second, and slinging your racket bag over your shoulder. “i’m going to the gym. i know you have class after this. don’t wait up.”
she was left there alone, the dismay and disappointment of it all weighing down on her, the moment the doors to the locker room were slammed.
–
i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have lashed out on you like that, i apologised to my friends, now i want to apologise to you. i love you, i’m sorry. the words didn’t seem enough. the guilt that accumulated and eventually avalanched into your heart was almost insurmountable, after the incident with natasha. you weren’t even sure you were worthy of being forgiven, you thought as you sat in your car later that night, still angry at her, but making sure that she was safe in the short walk home from her class to her dorm.
which was why you found yourself in the florist off campus a few days later, asking the employee what flowers best represented i’m sorry for being such a terrible girlfriend, and which flowers were most likely going to help you be forgiven. the white and blue carnations reminded you of the colours in natasha’s room.
“how much is it?” you asked, to which the cashier then showed you the till. you cursed internally, not even knowing flowers were so expensive nowadays.
checking the contents of your wallet for a minute, you cursed even louder at yourself at the emptiness that greeted you. losing matches meant losing money, that was for sure, and it wasn’t a secret that you were mostly funding your life with prize money won from big matches in the state, with college at least funded with the athlete’s scholarship. yet another reason why i can’t keep doing this, you thought.
it was between dinner for the next few days and gas for your car, and the flowers. fuck it, skipping dinners once in a while wouldn’t hurt, and you could walk from place to place.
you handed over your card, and began the walk to natasha’s dorm.
when she received you, natasha noticed you looked almost like a kicked puppy, none of the anger or smugness you carried with you on and off the court. no, with her, you were soft, and vulnerable, and all-too pitiful for her love. she knows the power she has over you. she never had to worry.
so she brought you in, allowed you to apologise, to beg at her feet, and for her mercy and forgiveness. she allowed you to worship her, taking her to her bed and whispering how much you messed up to her skin, how much you loved her when you were making her see stars, how much you thought you would hurt yourself if she ever left you when she was chanting your name over and over again, begging you to let her come undone.
–
steve’s birthday rolled around, and natasha was once again seated in the front row for you. she never missed your matches.
you thought she should have missed this one, when the match reached a break point and you lost again. when you had gotten so frustrated, so furious, over a careless choke that you had, that you received a punishment for smashing your racket into bits as the opponent screamed in celebration.
she came down to sit with you in the locker room after, but it was in silence. there was nothing to say, and nothing to be said. there were tears streaming down your face, dripping onto the floor. your vision was obscured by the tears, and you would have lost yourself if not for the hand that was holding your own, firm, steadfast. somewhere along the line, she was kissing you, then slowly pushing for you to get up, and bringing you to her dorm. you didn’t really remember anything more after that, busy curling into a ball and crying yourself to sleep afterwards.
when she woke you again to accompany her to steve’s party, you felt almost bad that the ringing in your ears hadn’t gone away, and so had your misery from the match earlier. but natasha needed a ride, and you weren’t going to let her drive back later if she had been drinking for the night.
–
you encouraged natasha to mingle around at the party, and to not worry about you, as you stuck around your few friends for a bit. she was unsure, but you were firm, and soon enough, she too had disappeared into the crowd.
your eyes never left her after you found her again, though, leaning back into a pillar as your friend sam went on and on about his own matches so far. you didn’t have the heart, or energy, to tell him that tennis was the last thing you wanted to talk about right then.
she was by the birthday boy, his arm slung around her waist as the both of them guzzled down cups and cups of spiked punch. their circle was closely-knit, you had always known this, but somehow, the lingering touches, and his hand slowly travelling up and down her back, was ticking you off this time. you had almost half a mind to ask steve what he thought he was doing, but you knew natasha would get embarrassed, and upset. you knew you already made her upset enough today.
but then, sam quipped, “they’ve been awfully close lately, haven’t they?”
he must have forgotten he was talking to natasha’s girlfriend, of all people, as he continued, “steve’s on a winning streak recently. on track to become valedictorian, potentially getting drafted by the top teams next season, it’s only a matter of time before he wants someone by his side to share it with too, huh?”
“...right.”
“you know how natasha likes winners,” he hit your elbow playfully, breath reeking of alcohol and other illegal substances, “she just loves the game. i bet that’s how you got her to fall for you too.”
“not my good looks, or horrible attitude to anything outside of tennis?” you tore your eyes away from natasha for a moment to glare at sam. he chuckled.
“i’m just saying, better to keep your girl by your side, future federer.” he disappeared shortly after, and when you found natasha again, she was laughing and putting her head on steve’s shoulder.
instead of feeling angry this time, you were dejected, and a little bit ashamed. of course. natasha liked winners. and you certainly weren’t one anymore.
you bit back a harsh breath, and went outside to get some fresh air when steve stole a glance at her that was far too intimate to be one of merely friends. you should have known. if she wasn’t winning with you, she was winning with someone else, somewhere else.
that night, for the first time in your career, and relationship, you thought about retiring.
–
but when the competition season rolled around, and the WTAs approaching, you had managed to pull yourself up in the rankings enough to secure a spot at a challengers’ round to hopefully beat princeton and start a domino effect that could lead you to participating in a grand slam.
natasha was walking beside you, struggling to keep up as she checked your schedule haphazardly. “the princeton girl, she’s on the other side of the roster. i doubt the two of you would be playing each other unless she reaches the finals too. which…at this point…”
you didn’t want to know if she meant that you wouldn’t stand a chance of reaching the finals, or that the princeton champion would be knocked out early. you were afraid you knew the answer.
steve had dropped her off at the stadium when you went outside to pick her up, his smug smile as he waved her goodbye, and his eyes following yours, making you want to reach over inside the car and beating him with your racket. you had to arrive earlier to discuss strategy with your coaches, and while you were more than willing to pay for natasha’s ride in, she had mentioned that steve would be dropping her off. she sounded almost excited, so you dropped the topic and went back to your practice. like you have been doing for the past few months.
turns out it wasn’t so hard to succeed, and win matches, when you were more or less resigned to your fate that nobody was ever going to expect anything more of you from your streak of losses all those matches ago, and you had effectively lost the love of your life to some football player who kept winning, and winning.
you were at a challenger’s round this time, so you didn't need to worry. you won, and won, and won a little bit more.
–
thwock. right over the net. the opponent misses and falls to her knees.
a serve that would have made williams roar in awe. thwock.
last one. the set was done if you landed this one. thwock.
the ball landed inside the court, right by the opponent’s feet. and you advanced to the finals.
you remembered natasha rushing down, not even waiting until you entered the locker room. she was running, running, and jumping into your arms, kissing you like her life depended on it. you spun her around, giving her a smug smile, trying to hide a bleeding heart that knew she too, was surprised that you ever stood a chance of winning.
the crowd roared behind you. people were liking you again. but you had never felt worse.
–
it turned out that the princeton champion had advanced to the finals, and would be playing against you, after all. there was no surprise for her, but certainly a surprise for you, as the newscasters and fans had aptly put, a grand shocker. they had all thought you had seen your glory days over.
natasha caught you watching the latest telecast from the hotel’s television, gaze zeroed in on the anchor who was comparing your statistics over the last few games. almost perfect scores. leaving opponents with loves in sets. behind her, were the students of your college, decked out in the colour of the university and your face and initials printed on their shirts, caps, flags. all of it. they had never looked more proud. the college had even rolled out a banner in your name, in lieu of the upcoming finals. you knew natasha enjoyed all of it more than you did.
when it came to the broadcast from princeton, the college’s president had come to give a special interview. he mentioned that he never doubted his champion from the start, unlike what your college had to go through with you. you found yourself wanting to spit at the television.
but from behind, the sound of running water from the shower had stopped, and she had come out, in a robe and her wet hair in a towel. she saw the glazed look in your eyes, and promptly picked up the remote to shut the programme off.
she settled into the spot beside you, nuzzling into your comfort. she had to pull your own arms off of the couch to wrap around her. you thought she must have known. she couldn’t be so stupid. she knew that you knew about her, and what she had always liked.
but then you remembered, beyond the resentment, and grief, of the past few months, of just what she had been through with you. when you lost your very first match in college, natasha had been your friend, still. she was dating the captain of the basketball team, you remembered, but she had gone with you afterwards to walk the long way home, encouraging you and telling you that it would get better. it always would. you only half-believed her.
but then, you won. and won, and won, and won. by the tenth streak of winning, natasha had broken up with said boyfriend, and began hanging around your dorm, the tennis courts, even the cafeterias more often. she went where you went, showed up to most of your games, was the loudest one in the crowd when you secured sets. she would wait for you after your mini celebratory sessions with your teammates, and fans, and friends, all for a moment alone with you. then, she would bring you out for drinks, for dinners, sometimes the occasional walk down memory lane to her dorm. she was kind, she made you laugh, and you were on a streak. so what was there stopping you?
you fell for her just as easily as you fell in love with winning.
to your surprise, she stuck around when you lost a few matches along the way, never letting it phase her, or you. to everyone else’s surprise, she stuck around when you twisted your ankle in your second year of playing. she had left a pattern in her wake, you see, of leaving all of her past lovers when the going got tough, or when they had simply stopped winning. it was inevitable, you thought. but no, not this time. when you fell to your knees during that tournament, screaming in agony as your ankle felt like it was folding in on itself, she was there. she was right beside the medical officer, holding you up as he inspected the injury, face looking even more panicked than yours as they wheeled you off to the hospital.
she was there, as they wheeled you in for surgery, and wheeled you out to recover. she never left, even when the doctors told you it would take months to recover, let alone get back to playing on your level. she helped you recover, was the driving force in your physical therapy success, even became the sole reason that you returned to playing so quickly after your injury. you hadn’t wanted to disappoint her, much less lose her at all. you were too afraid of the possibility of her becoming someone else’s because of your failure in your sport.
natasha stayed through your losing streak. she never got mad, or lost her patience, with you. it had been three years now, with her. she had never lasted in a relationship so long, so had you. she had talked about getting married before, right after college, to which you had entertained, but still never gotten the full grasp of. how could she talk about marrying you, with such a reputation that preceded her? what if you had lost, would she have run off before the altar?
what if you lost tomorrow? you looked at her again, this time, and she was on her phone. she was texting your friends to make sure they came for your match tomorrow. you felt horrible.
“nat.”
she looked up. “yes?”
“tell me it doesn’t matter.”
natasha sat up this time, her hand holding yours. she looked confused. “what doesn’t matter?” “whether i win or lose tomorrow.”
her face remained unchanged for a moment, but at the quiver of your lip, and the coldness in your hands, she broke her composure. she shook her head slowly, gaze steely. “no.”
“why not?” it was your turn to harden the look on your face. “why won’t you tell me at least that?”
“because,” she bit the inside of her cheek, “you’re the professional. you’ll tell me whether it matters or not.”
you sat up as well. “i just want to know that you’ll love me…no matter what…whether i win or lose tomorrow.”
natasha’s eyes suddenly couldn’t meet yours. she looked down, at your shirt, then away, but never back at you. you pleaded, “natasha, please.”
“no,” she remained firm, “no. i won’t tell you that, because i know you’ll beat her. you’ll win tomorrow. and you’ll go to the grand slams, you’ll be the best tennis player that’s ever played in them, and you’re going to win. every. single. one. of. them.”
“and what if i don’t? not even the grand slams, not even tomorrow? what if i come in second again, after all this time?”
you were growing desperate, and she was growing distant. you suddenly thought that you would have done anything, absolutely anything then, for her to tell you what you wanted to hear. to tell you that she would love you no matter if you won or lost.
natasha watched as you dropped to your knees in front of her, eyes already teary. your hands scrambled to hold her shirt, her waist, any part of her. she held them back, but to stop you from reaching further. then, she held your face again, but this time, it was you that was begging for her. you looked downright pitiful.
she wiped the stray tear off your cheek. she knew what she was going to say would either make or destroy you. “i’ll tell you this instead.”
“please.”
“baby, if you lose the match tomorrow, i’m leaving you. for good.”
–
thwock. thwock. thwock.
princeton parried, the ball is sent to the line. you return it with ease. princeton flicks back, you work twice as hard to send it over.
your moves were clean, cleaner than ever before, aided by a brain filled with rage and a heart filled with fear.
princeton served, out. you served, in. the advantage stood, and the crowd stood to cheer. princeton hit back, you hit harder. it was a game both colleges hadn’t seen in decades. there were talks of both of you dominating the grand slams, even possibly working together, even being the next best duo to ever hit the sport.
break point. the ball whizzes. and finally…after all the pain, the fear, the lost matches and the weight of the world on your shoulders, it was over.
you weren’t quick enough. princeton won.
a/n: i just love pathetic, pitiful characters who are down so bad for natasha romanoff, is that so wrong?
#natasha romanoff x reader#black widow x reader#natasha romanoff#black widow#marvel cinematic universe#tennis player! reader#challengers#natasha romanoff x tennis player! reader
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Home Court Love
Paige Bueckers x Black!Fem OC (Aniyah)
I’m gonna make another part to this bcs I enjoyed it so much. I just love when wlw love wins 💔😓
Words: 6k
Themes:
slight medical inaccuracies, I’m not a doctor don’t come for me
swearing
slight angst
domestic feels
Aniyah and Paige’s family started with one simple sentence.
————————————————————————
2/4/23
“I’m really tryna start a family with you” Paige mumbles into your (her) sweatshirt, she’s always super clingy and lovey after a win so these words never phase you.
You roll your eyes playfully, she says stuff like this all the time and every single time your reactions no different. You smile and nod, knowing she’ll move on to a different topic in about .3 seconds.
“I know, baby” you say back.
She starts to sit up, relaxing on her knees with her hands rubbing up and down your thighs “No like I’m being deadass with you, seriously”
You sit up, resting on your elbows with a surprised smirk “Babe, I know” you chuckle out.
“Do you though? You lookin’ at me like I got two heads or something”
Paige seems genuine about what she’s saying which makes you sit up even more, crossing your legs. “So you’re.. like being serious?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she says sounding a bit offended.
“Well you like- say random shit like that all the time? I don’t know- I just didn’t think you were like.. wanting something like that with me” You respond, even though a few of your insecurities peek through your words as you speak.
Paige grabs you by the face with both hands so that your foreheads touch “Aniyah Kamau Omondi, I’d get you pregnant right now if it was biologically possible. I’m being as serious and as real as I can right now, I want you to be the mother of my children.”
You smile from ear to ear after she’s finished talking. Grabbing her face just as she is now you smash your lips onto hers “Then let’s do it.”
And so began the journey of little baby Gianni.
————————————————————————
4/17/23
The process with IVF was truly a gift from god, the both of you were worried it’d take at least six plus months, maybe even years for you to get pregnant but a short two months later you’d gotten positive results.
You’d always wanted to do one of those intimate “telling my partner i’m pregnant” things so you’d devised the perfect plan. Paige had gone out with the team for a promotional event and texted she’d be out a little later than usual, giving you time to set up your announcement.
You’d went out to target earlier while Paige was at practice, just picking up a simple onesie that stated “Baby On The Way! - Jan. 2024”. You’d folded the small onesie up into a box, covering the item of clothing with white tissue paper and on top of that adding a thin piece of paper that said “Surprise!”. Nothing extraordinary or extravagant but it was enough for the to of you and that’s what mattered.
Anxiously waiting for Paige to return home was hell on earth and your hormones were already starting to go all wonky.
Finally you hear the apartment door click open from you and Paige’s bedroom. Quickly hiding the box in your bedside drawer and waiting for Paige to make her way to your room.
“ ‘Sup, mama’s” she said as she strolled through the door, pulling her hood down and unzipping her UCONN jacket.
“Hey, love how was that event thingy you went to?” You say trying to hide your nerves.
Paige, the entirely clueless girl that she is, tells you about the event just recalling that it was slow and sort of boring. Speaking about this while walking around the room getting undressed and ready to lay down.
“….But yeah that was basically it” she finishes, plopping down next to you on the bed. Her head slightly propped up against the headboard while one of her hands goes to rub your thigh. “Oh my god but babe there was this one bit that Ines and Aubrey were doing-“ she starts chuckling but you and your nerves can’t take it anymore.
“Okay babe, not to interrupt but I got you a gift and I really want you to open it… like right now” You rush out.
“Ooh a gift” she teases “Is it those Curry’s i’ve been yapping about” she jokes again.
Reaching into your drawer you pull out the small box, not really reacting to the jokes she made.
“… Okay now i’m nervous” she says wearily eyeing the box due to your lack of response. Still plucking it from your hands and lifting the top.
You hold your breath waiting for a response.
“Surprise? Baby wh-“
“Just open it, god damn”
Raising her hands in a surrender motion she responds “Okay, okay”
Carefully removing the white tissue paper to uncover the onesie, she hasn’t read the front of it yet as it was folded in a way to hide the message on the piece of clothing. She fully takes the onesie out letting it unravel and reading the front.
Her eye’s quickly fogging up and filling with tears “Baby yo- you’re being serious? Like you’re not fucking with me?” Her voice cracks as she struggles to finish her sentence.
You in a similar state and ready to burst into tears just shake your head a simple ‘no’ before you both lunge at each other to embrace.
Your arms wrapping around her neck and hers winding themselves around your waist.
“Oh my god we’re gonna be parents” she breathes into your neck. You still haven’t ceased your crying so you just aggressively nod into the crook of her neck.
————————————————————————
The next few months are spent in beautiful domestic bliss. Paige being the best partner you could ask for by always being there to help you, cleaning, cooking, driving you anywhere you ask and just basically waiting on you hand and foot.
When it comes to telling family the both of you agree on telling them through zoom rather than having to travel all the way back to Illinois and Minnesota. Of course everyone’s happy for you and their reactions are priceless but not as funny as when you tell the team.
When Paige and you finally break it to them after practice one day the screams could be heard from literally every corner of Connecticut. Ines and Ashlynn take off running throughout the stands screaming and hugging each other. Q and Aubrey are just as insane, running all the way to the locker rooms and back. Ice, Azzi, and KK are swarming Paige almost immediately while Nika, Amari, Caroline, Aaliyah, Jana, and Ayanna are surrounding you in the sweetest and most gentle group hug. It honestly brings tears to your eyes.
And of course you all go out to celebrate after, the girls not hesitating to tell any person they passed that you were pregnant, which ends up getting you guys a free meal + drinks (non-alcoholic obviously).
(Later that night Paige put out an official announcement on her instagram and twitter about the pregnancy, letting the world and her fans know what was going on)
————————————————————————
8/7/23
When it comes time to find out the gender (so around four months into your pregnancy) you and Paige decide you want a gender reveal. She seemed more excited about it than you did, she’d been obsessing over the gender since the day she found out about the pregnancy. She didn’t even care whether it was a boy or girl she was just so insanely impatient that it kept her up at night.
With the help of the team and your best friends Leilani and Dawn you guys had come to the decision to let everyone else do the work for planning the reveal, giving you and Paige time to relax and focus more on the baby. Letting you and Paige’s friends have full creative liberty for the party was the best thing you could’ve done as the girls went all out.
You and Paige stood hand in hand in the center of the park that they’d rented out, surrounded by your closest friends and family that had flown out to witness this moment. You’d shown up in a off the shoulder, white, maternity dress that fell just above the knee while Paige came clad in a short sleeved white button up and khaki pants, she’d let her hair down and curled it a bit which was a nice touch. Excitement buzzed in the air as everyone eagerly awaited the reveal of the baby's gender.
The girls had orchestrated the perfect setup, with off-white balloons filling the sky and a large box wrapped in pink and blue ribbons placed in front of the couple.
You couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as the moment drew closer. Paige, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with anticipation, her eyes sparkling with excitement and cheesing from ear to ear.
By now everyone had gathered around the two of you waiting for the reveal but first you and Paige wanted to say a few nice words.
Clearing your throat you got everyone’s attention while Paige placed a hand on the small of your back.
"Hey y’all!, thank you all for being here today. Paige and I are beyond grateful for your love and support as we go on this journey into parenthood. I just wanted to thank the team, love you girls, my family and Paige’s for flying all the way out here to share this with us, and my girlfriends since childhood for setting this whole thing up for us. We appreciate you so deeply and whether it's a boy or a girl, we know this baby is already surrounded by so much love because of all of you. Here's to the next chapter of our lives, filled with joy, love, and endless adventures. Cheers!"
Everyone claps smiling as Paige starts to speak.
“Um.. yeah what she said. Now let’s rip this thing open” She teases, referencing the box. “No but yeah, seriously thank y’all for the support, we couldn’t have done it without this village you’ve surrounded us with. From the bottom of our hearts me and Aniyah love each and every one of you so thanks again”
“Yeah yeah we appreciate you too, now open the damn box girl!” Paige’s mom yells excitedly from the crowd, holding her phone up and ready to record.
Everyone laughs once again but with a shared glance, you and Paige count down together, your voices mingling with the cheers of your loved ones. "Three, two, one..."
As the box was opened, a flurry of pink balloons burst forth, drifting up into the sky. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, surrounding the couple with hugs and congratulations.
You feel tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as Paige wraps you in a tight embrace, arms locked around your baby bump whispering words of love and excitement into your ear.
————————————————————————
8/22/23-11/19/23
The months that come next are followed up with the normal milestones, buying furniture, buying clothes, picking names, painting the room, prepping the baby bag etc. etc.
Which of course the two of you bicker about.
—
*flashback*
“Babe I’m not buying our daughter a onesie with just Kyrie Irving’s face on it”
Paige’s currently slumped over the shopping cart in target, pouting over this stupid onesie.
“But whyyy…” she whines
“ ‘Cause.” You respond back, short and firm.
“You hate me” she sighs out as she reluctantly goes to place it back on the shelf.
—
Even with all the good fortune and domestic bliss surrounding you, you still had quite a bit of anxiety when it came to the actual process of giving birth. You had asked your own mother for help and she recommended that you read a few books on it because in her own words “the second I started reading those things, all doubts just flew out the window” but now as you sit on the bed, Paige’s hoodie surrounding your frame and back agains the headboard, your hands won’t stop trembling while you flip through the pages of the childbirth book in your lap. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake the fear that grips your heart and all you can do is sit there with tears flooding your eyes.
You had tried to read while Paige was out for practice but clearly underestimated how quick she’d be in and out.
“Baby I’m home!” She yells from the hall.
Quickly scrubbing at your flushed face you respond back, voice cracking “I’m- I’m in here”
Paige enters the room, her eyes softening as she takes in your tense posture, knowing something’s wrong. Without a word, she crosses the room and sits down beside you, placing her hands on your thighs, rubbing comforting circles up and down them.
"Hey," Paige murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "What's on your mind, mama?"
You let out a shaky breath, leaning into Paige's embrace. "I'm just... like- really scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of giving birth, scared of what's going to happen. And my mom tried recommending these stupid ass books to- calm me down or whatever but all it’s doing is adding more weight to my shoulders”
Paige's heart aches at the vulnerability in your voice. She tightens her hands on your legs, offering silent reassurance. "It's okay to be scared, baby," she says softly. "But you're not alone. I'm here for you, every step of the way."
Tears prick at your eyes again as you bury your face in Paige's shoulder, her warmth enveloping you. "I just don't know if I can do this, like I really thought I was but the closer it gets to my due date I just feel like- like i’m gonna find some way to fuck it up” you admit, your voice muffled.
Paige pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and guiding you to meet her gaze. "Baby you are strong, like strong strong.” She chuckles “You’ve gone through more than I ever have, and you still find a way to be the most passionate, caring, loving woman I’ve ever met” she says earnestly, her eyes locking with yours. "Trust me when I say you can do anything. I believe in you."
A flicker of hope ignites within you as you gaze into Paige's eyes, seeing nothing but unwavering love and support. With a shaky sigh, you lean forward, resting your forehead against hers.
"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude. "For always being there for me, for making this process so easy"
Paige brushes a gentle kiss against your lips, her touch soft and tender. "I love you," she murmurs against your mouth. "And I'll be right here, holding your hand through it all."
“I love you more” you breathe out closing the gap between you two again.
————————————————————————
12/28/23
It’s three days after Christmas and your due date is quickly approaching. Even though your doctor said the baby’s due date was January, she could come at any time.
Paige had been walking on eggshells around you, ready to drop everything and grab that baby bag at any moment but it made it extremely hard for her when all she had was practice and games. Paige tried to take you to most of them so she’d at least know where you were but understood when your feet were especially sore or your back ached.
Today had been a particularly hard day, you’d been having Braxton-hicks pretty consistently for about a week or so and they were even worse today, the baby was doing triple backflips on every part of your insides and your feet couldn’t have been more swollen. Paige was very reluctant to go to her game today, seriously considering calling Geno and letting him know that the baby might come. You know Paige is one to overreact and you tell her you’ll be fine and you won’t be alone as Dawn and Leilani were still in town and wanted to hang out at yours.
Eventually Paige gets ready to head out not before kissing you deeply, rubbing her hand on your bump. “Do not hesitate to call up the team managers if something happens, seriously” she gives you a stern look.
You, loving how overprotective she is just stare back up at her lovingly “Yes, yes I will”
“Baby I’m being dead fucking serious, look me in my eyes and tell me you will. Actually you know what? I’m not going, I have a bad feeling about this and i’m not playing today, I’m gonna call Coach again. I need to be here if anyt-“ she starts rambling, pulling her phone from her duffel but you quickly interrupt her with a kiss, grabbing her wrist and putting her phone right back where it was.
“Babe.” you stare at her as she doesn’t respond breathing nervously “I’m fine, and everything will be fine if you just go ahead and leave already. It’s like you’re tryna make yourself late”
“But baby-“ she argues back, you two continue like this and after about ten more minutes of going back and forth you finally get her out of the house.
Dawn and Leilani finally arrive, they let themselves in and have not arrived empty handed. They drag in bags of your favorite snacks, blankets and drinks for the three of you.
You’ve all settled into the couch and Paige’s game has just finished the first quarter when you start to feel those intense sharp pains again, almost like Braxton-hicks but stronger. You try to get back to a comfortable position during commercial break and the girl’s notice you fidgeting around.
“You okay, Niyah?” Dawn questions.
“No yeah!- I’m fine” you shift again “baby girls just sitting weird” trying to brush it off and turn their attention back to the TV.
“… uh huh, okay” Leilani responds with an unsure tone and giving Dawn an “ikyfl” look.
The pain continues throughout the second quarter and halftime, the girls are still eyeing you wearily as they can see you’re in pain. Dawn asks again and again if you’re doing well and again and again you tell her you’re fine. The third quarter starts up and not even two minutes in does a sudden sharp pain shoot through your abdomen. You gasp, clutching your stomach as another wave of pain hits you. Dawn and Leilani’s necks snapping with how fast they turn to you you, concern etched on their faces.
"Aniyah, seriously are you okay? and girl don’t lie to my ass again” Dawn asks, her voice filled with worry.
You try to speak, but the pain intensifies, making it hard to form words. Leilani rushes to your side, placing a hand on your back.
"Yeah hun, we need to get you to the hospital," she says, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.
“N-no, I’m fine..” you take a deep labored breath in “…seriously it’s not that bad it’s probably just Bra-“ and you can’t even finish your sentence as a third wave of pain hits you, causing you to grip your knees and drop your head.
The room starts to spin as panic threatens to overwhelm you. Despite your attempts to remain calm, the pain feels unbearable, and the fear of giving birth without Paige by your side grips you like a vice.
"Aniyah, we need to go," Leilani says firmly, her voice cutting through the fog of panic that clouds your mind.
But you shake your head, the thought of facing labor alone filling you with a paralyzing dread. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to find the strength to stand, your heart pounding in your chest.
"I can't- I can’t do this without her," you whisper, the words catching in your throat as the next contraction hits you like a freight train.
Dawn moves closer, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of solidarity. "We'll get you there, Niyah," she says softly, her voice filled with determination. "We won't let you go through this alone and we’ll get Paige okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna have a safe and healthy delivery but the only way we can do that is if we get you to the hospital”
You nod and with their support, you manage to rise to your feet, leaning heavily on Leilani as you make your way to the door. Every step feels like an eternity, the pain radiating through your body with each movement.
Outside, the world seems to blur as you're guided into the waiting car, the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a weight. Leilani slides into the driver's seat, her hands steady on the wheel as she navigates through the streets towards the hospital. You can faintly hear through the ringing in your ears that Dawn’s in the back seat calling the UCONN team manager to somehow find a way to get Paige to the hospital. Immediately.
————————————————————————
(I wanted to include Paige’s perspective)
Paige isn’t on her best game as of right now, even though UCONN’s winning she doesn’t feel like she’s really focused on what’s happening. All she can think about is you at home, rooting for her from the couch.
UCONN’s up by seven by halftime and when she heads back to the locker room to check her phone she’s surprised and honestly a bit worried to see there’s been no recent texts from you. She has no time to stress over it though as Geno rushes the team over to talk strategy.
Once he’s finished Paige jogs back to her phone to check her texts and they’re still empty. She sends a quick “Everything okay bby?” before dropping her phone back in her bag, not even checking to see if it sent (which it does not as the locker room wifi is straight ass).
Third quarter starts and the team is on a roll, chemistry at an all time high, handing out three’s and assists like crazy.
Around five minutes in, Nika has the ball and runs it up the court and towards the basket, she goes in for a layup but turns at the last second to pass it to Paige who stands at the three-point line. She goes to shoot, quickly glancing at the bench to see the team manager on the phone and a few other staff huddled around Geno, which wouldn’t be strange if they weren’t glancing up at Paige every two seconds.
She lets go of the ball. Miss
Geno immediately calls a timeout.
The team rushes over out of breath and Geno pulls Paige off to the side with the team manager as he lets the assistant coach give feedback to the other girls.
The team manager still has the phone pressed to his ear, sharing panicked and hushed whispers with whoever’s on the other side of the device.
“-aige! Paige! Hello?” Coach’s been snapping his fingers in front of her face for a minute now, she hasn’t noticed that Geno subbed her out for another player and the timeouts been over. All she can do is glare at the phone, letting her thoughts overtake her.
“Huh?” she replies out of breath still staring at the manager.
“It’s about Aniyah”
that immediately grabs her attention.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s in labor..”
“Are you fucking serious? Since when??” she doesn’t mean to swear at coach but there’s no way they’ve been keeping this from her.
“Not long! not long” he reassures “it’s been about fifteen minutes since they left the hou-“
“Fifteen god damn minutes? Coach are you serious, I need to go. Like now” she turns to run to the locker room but Geno grips her wrist.
“I’m not trying to stop you from going so calm down first” he says noticing the immediate scowl on her face “Just wishing you good luck, kid” and pats her shoulder approvingly, nodding her off to the lockers.
By now everyone’s noticed that UCONN’s star player has left the court so by the time the manager escorts her back to the locker rooms there’s tons of media standing at the doors. She shoves past them and into the locker room, ripping off her uniform, and storming back out. Thankfully security has moved them from the doors so she’s able to make a quick exit.
She throws her bag in the back of her car and hops into the front seat. Gripping the steering wheel knowing her life won’t ever be the same after today.
————————————————————————
As the car speeds towards your destination, you find yourself clinging to the hope that Paige will arrive in time, that she'll be there to hold your hand and offer you the strength you so desperately need. But with each passing moment, the fear gnaws at you, threatening to consume you entirely.
By the time you reach the hospital, you're trembling with a mixture of pain and fear, your heart racing as you're wheeled into the maternity ward. The nurses swarm around you, their voices a blur as they prepare you for the impending birth.
Your nurse, Jada, escorts you to your room promising she’ll be back in a minute to help you get more situated. She leaves, finally giving you a minute to breathe, Dawn helps you out of the wheelchair and lets you waddle your way to the hospital bed. Dawn helps you remove your crocs and scoots behind you to put your braids into a a wonky looking ponytail. Leilani’s currently downstairs waiting for Paige to arrive so she can show her to your room.
As Dawn finishes securing your braids into a makeshift pony, she notices the worry etched across your face. She places a gentle hand on your back, offering a reassuring squeeze.
"You're doing great, hun," Dawn says softly, her voice laced with empathy. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're so strong. And remember, Paige is on her way. She'll be here soon."
You nod, grateful for Dawn's comforting words, but the panic still lingers beneath the surface. "What if something goes wrong? What if I can't do this?"
Dawn's expression softens even further as she meets your gaze. "Hey, listen to me," she says firmly. "You can do this. You're a fighter, Niyah. And Paige will be here before you know it. We're all rooting for you."
Just then, Jada returns, her warm smile offering a small sense of reassurance. "Alright, let's get you settled in," she says, wheeling over a bedside table and helping you adjust the pillows behind your back.
You try to lighten the mood by making a joke as you lay back “Paige’s gonna be pissed at me, she had a feeling the baby was coming today” I chuckle lightly.
“You already know her ass is gonna bust in here on some hero shit” Dawn laughs back.
You go to laugh at her joke but are quickly cut off by an extra strong contraction. It forces you to double over your belly and reach out for Dawn’s hand, she rushes to your side as you squeeze so hard your knuckles turn white. This contraction is particularly strong and it draws a long groan from your lips as you continue to hold on to Dawn for support.
In the midst of the chaos, you hear the sound of quick footsteps approaching, as the contraction dies down you turn to see Paige rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern and love, Leilani trailing after.
"I’m here baby, I’m here" she says, her voice filled with relief as Dawn moves from you to have Paige replace her.
Paige is there to comfort you for a while but the contractions get worse with every minute that passes. Your body aches and you feel like your bodies already been through labor a hundred times.
As the pain of the contractions intensifies, you find yourself gasping for breath, each wave of agony threatening to overwhelm you entirely. Despite Dawn's reassuring presence by your side, the pain is relentless, leaving you feeling desperate for relief.
With tears of frustration pooling in your eyes, you turn to Paige, your voice trembling with exhaustion. "I don't know if I can do this anymore," you whisper, your words barely audible over the sound of your labored breathing.
Paige's heart breaks at the sight of your distress, her expression filled with love and concern as she reaches out to gently stroke your hair. "it's okay, mamas” she murmurs soothingly, her voice a comforting presence amidst the chaos. "You're doing so good, you wanna get that epidural now?” she leans down to kiss your cheek.
You’ve been trying to hold back tears this whole time, trying to put up a front for everyone but when Paige asks you that question the dam breaks and you burst into tears.
You nod a ‘yes’ “I-I’m not like- weak for that right..?” You hiccup out in between sobs.
It absolutely destroys Paige’s heart seeing so upset “No love, not at all” , she leans in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Let's get you some relief, okay?" she suggests softly, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You deserve to feel comfortable, and that doesn’t take away how brave you are for doing any of this in the first place"
With Paige's words ringing in your ears, you nod, a sense of gratitude washing over you. As the medical team prepares to administer the epidural, Paige stays by your side, her hand firmly clasped in yours as you ready yourself for the procedure.
As the needle pierces your skin, a sharp pang of discomfort shoots through your body, but Paige's steady presence offers a sense of grounding amidst the pain. With each passing moment, you feel the tension slowly melt away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and gratitude.
As the effects of the epidural begin to take hold, you sink back against the pillows, your body finally able to relax after hours of relentless agony.
You get in an hour or two of sleep before Jada comes back in to check your dilation.
“We’re at an eight right now, moms. Nearing a nine, I’d say baby girl’s ready to pop in the next two hours” she smiles, getting up from her stool and pulling off her gloves.
You groan at the sound of two more hours of this and you can feel the epidural slowly starting to wear off. Paige smiles lightly, squeezing your hand as she’s sat in chair that she pulled up to your bed.
“I know, I know” Jada sympathizes, she smiles asking if you guys need anything before she goes. When nobody says anything she reminds that she’ll be back within the hour.
“I seriously can’t do another two hours, babe” you try to joke but the thought brings tears to your eyes again. “and i’m so fucking sick of crying! that’s all i’ve been doing for literally like the past six hours, and I’m hungry” you scrub hard at your eyes with the back of your hands and pout.
“I know ma, I know, I told you I’d order a bunch of shit from wherever you want after the baby comes” she smiles rubbing your knuckles.
Still pouting you respond “You better hold up on that promise too”
She chuckles a bit harder this time nodding. Her phone buzzes from where it lays next to your leg on the bed, she picks it up checking her messages and her face immediately breaks into a smile.
“The teams here, they wanted to talk to you real quick before the baby comes. Want me to go grab ‘em?”
You nod tiredly, over the years you’ve been with Paige those girls have been nothing short of sisters to you and them coming to see you at the hospital warms your heart to no end.
A short while later the girls shuffle in, staying in the corner of the room to talk to you and Paige (Dawn and Leilani left to grab you and Paige some stuff from the apartment). It’s sweet that they keep a distance, like they think they’ll hurt the baby by just entering your space bubble but towards the end of the conversation the epidural’s fully wore off and Paige let’s the girls know, sending them away with hugs and promising updates.
Paige comforts you about an hour longer when you start to feel like you need to push. You tell Paige and she quickly calls for Jada to come back in. As the medical team springs into action, Jada returns with a sense of urgency, followed closely by a team of delivery nurses and a doctor. Their focused expressions convey a sense of readiness as they prepare for the imminent arrival of your baby.
Paige remains steadfast by your side, her grip on your hand unwavering as she offers words of encouragement and reassurance. With each passing moment, the intensity of the contractions builds, urging you to push with all your strength.
With each push, you can feel yourself getting more and more tired than the last. You feel like you’ve been pushing for hours at this point and you’re getting nowhere.
“I- I can’t..” You sob out “Paigey, I don’t wanna do it anymore.”
Paige's heart breaks at the sound of your distress, her own eyes filling with tears as she watches you struggle. With a gentle touch, she brushes away your tears, her voice soft and soothing as she speaks.
"You're doing amazing, baby," she murmurs, her voice filled with love and encouragement. "I understand how tired you are. You've been so strong, but it's okay to feel overwhelmed. We’re here for you, okay love? Just a few more pushes I know you got it in you”
As the medical team continues to offer support and guidance, Paige leans in close, her forehead resting against yours as she offers words of comfort.
"You're not alone, baby," she whispers, her voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of the chaos. "We're in this together, and I'll be right here by your side, no matter what."
With renewed determination, fueled by Paige’s words and the medical team. With each push, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your body, propelling you closer to the moment of your baby's arrival.
And then, finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggle and perseverance, you feel the unmistakable sensation of your baby. With one final push, a rush of overwhelming emotion washes over you as you hear the cries of your newborn filling the room.
Tears of relief and joy stream down your face as Paige's grip tightens on your hand, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. As the nurses clean up baby Gianni, you and Paige eagerly anticipate the moment when you can hold her close for skin-to-skin contact. With each passing second, your hearts swell with anticipation, longing to feel the warmth of your newborn against your own skin.
Finally, the moment arrives as the nurses carefully place baby Gianni back into your waiting arms. With trembling hands, you cradle her against your chest, feeling the weight of her tiny body nestled against you. Paige's eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she leans in close, her hand resting gently on Gianni's back as she marvels at the sight before her.
"She's perfect," Paige whispers, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "Absolutely perfect."
You nod in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from the precious baby in your arms.
After you've had your precious moments of skin-to-skin contact with baby Gianni, you turn to look up at Paige as she has stood to her full height to admire the two of you together. You can see her staring at Gianni, itching to touch her again.
“Babe? You wanna hold her?”
She’s still holding back tears so she silently nods, going to take off her shirt leaving her in a regular black sports bra. She sits back in the chair next to your bed and with gentle hands, you carefully pass Gianni into Paige's waiting arms, a soft smile gracing both of your faces as you witness the profound connection between mother and child.
Paige's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she cradles Gianni against her chest, her touch tender and loving as she gazes down at her newborn daughter. As Gianni snuggles closer to Paige, a sense of peace settles over the room, the bond between mother and child palpable in the air.
————————————————————————
12/28/23
The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the hospital room where you and Paige are nestled with baby Gianni. As you watch your precious daughter sleep peacefully in her bassinet, a sense of contentment washes over you, filling the room with an aura of tranquility.
Suddenly, there's a gentle knock on the door, followed by the sound of excited voices. With a smile, you glance over at Paige, anticipation dancing in your eyes as you both know who's about to walk in.
As the door opens, Dawn and Leilani, step into the room, their faces beaming with joy and excitement. They crowd around the bassinet, their voices a chorus of admiration as they coo over baby Gianni.
"She's so tiny!" Dawn exclaims, her eyes sparkling with delight as she reaches out to gently stroke Gianni's cheek.
Leilani nods in agreement, her expression filled with awe. "She's so freakin perfect, just like her moms."
Your best friends coo over her a bit more before saying their goodbyes, leaving with a hug.
The next people to knock on the door are the UCONN team, Paige beams with pride as she introduces Gianni to her teammates, a sense of pride evident in every word she speaks. With each passing moment, the room fills with laughter and conversation, the camaraderie between friends adding to the warmth of the moment.
But the excitement doesn't end there. Soon after, both yours and Paige's families arrive, their faces alight with anticipation as they prepare to meet their newest member.
As they enter the room, their eyes light up at the sight of Gianni, their voices filling the air with expressions of joy and wonder. Tears of happiness glisten in your mother's eyes as she reaches out to cradle her granddaughter in her arms, her heart overflowing with love.
Paige's parents are equally ecstatic, their smiles wide as they shower Gianni with kisses and affection. In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of your families, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, knowing that Gianni is already surrounded by so much love.
As the morning unfolds, the room fills with laughter and conversation, the joy of new beginnings permeating every corner. Together, you and Paige watch as Gianni is welcomed into the embrace of your families, knowing that she is already cherished beyond measure.
In the quiet moments that follow, you take a moment to soak in the love and happiness that fills the room, grateful for the journey that has brought you to this moment. With Gianni in your arms and Paige by your side, you know that your family is complete.
#uconn wbb#paige bueckers x reader#paige bueckers#uconn huskies#wlw#women’s basketball#ncaa women’s basketball#ncaa#domestic fluff#fluff#angst#paige bueckers x black!fem reader#oc#paige bueckers blurbb
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KINKTOBER MASTERLIST
MAIN MASTERLIST
Happy Kinktober everyone! Enjoy <3 (not posting in order)
Heart (Autassassinophilia with Rheana (Oc) x Eris)
Summary: Rheana is jealous watching Eris charm a court female, she sets out to make sure he knows who his heart belongs to.
Shifter (Futanari with Feyre x Reader, Rhysand mentioned) pt 2 of Rita's
Summary: After taking you home, Feyre has more fun with you
Naughty kitten (Pet play with Sylus x Reader)
Summary: Sending a pic of yourself laying in Sylus' bed half naked to him gets you in trouble when he gets home earlier than planned.
Dark (Shadow play with The Darkling x Reader)
Summary: The Darkling uses a merzost creature to take care of you after an intense training session. Using you as practice for the magic.
Berkin (Gangbang with Cazriel x Elsie (Oc) x Feysand)
Summary: Elsie and Feyre get invited to join their mates in the berkin on their annual Winter Solstice traditions.
Cold (Temperature play with Zayne x Reader)
Summary: After suffering from a little heatstroke, Zayne takes on the responsibility of cooling you down.
Firsts (Parthenophillia with Tamsand x Reader)
Summary: You and Rhysand teach Tamlin how to give and receive pleasure.
Demonic (Monsterfucking with Sylus x Reader)
Summary: After hearing what the common folk of the N109 zone think Sylus truly looks like, you didn't believe them, then, you took him up on his offer to take his brooch the easier way.
Moonlight (Spectrophilia with Azriel x Reader)
Summary: No one sees him, no one feels him but you, and your mate is quite a jealous male over those who you can see
Sharing (Free Use with Cassian x Fia (Oc), Nesta mentioned, Feysand's partner)
Summary: While her partners are busy, Fia knocked on Cassian and Nesta's door for company, Cassian answered.
Ease (Blood play with Rafayel x Reader)
Summary: Missing his bodyguard, Rafayel decides to visit you and ends up comforting you through your cramps.
Shaken (Overstimulation with Stermhond x Reader)
Summary: Being unable to sleep at night on the Volkvolny, the Stermhond provides you with the perfect distraction.
Session (Role play with Zayne x Reader)
Summary: Your appointment with your doctor.
Ruined (Femdom with Rafayel x Reader)
Summary: Gem Affection Au, having a little peace and quiet with Rafayel after a long day socialising
Clubs (Triple penetration with Batboys x Reader)
Summary: Morden AU, working in a strip club, you got your fair share of customers who offered you payment for vip services even when you never did, until you finally chose to.
As you all can see, I did not post it soon... But still, here it is :)
Please comment to be added to the taglist <3
#eris vanserra#acotar series#high lord rhysand#cassian smut#nessian x reader#sylus x reader#nesta x reader#nikolai x reader#feyre x reader#feyre smut#eris vanserra smut#sylus lads#aleksander morozova#sylus smut#zayne smut#zayne lads#zayne x reader#rafayel x reader#feyre cursebreaker#darkling x reader#nikolai lantsov#nikolai smut#azriel shadowsinger#azriel smut#tamsand
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A message from your spirit guide
☆ How to chose the perfect pile for you?
1) Clear your mind.
2) Take a deep breathe.
3) Ask the question in your head.
4) Open your eyes.
And the pictures that your eyes capture is your pile.
☆Note:
This is a general reading and the energy can change. If you did not find any pile that you are drawn to then this reading is NOT for you. This reading can't substitute any professional or medical advice.
Stay safe.
Pile 1 - Candle
Where are you coming from?
I see some people from this pile are working in a group of people and everything is going well for them. If this is not the case this pile are working on a group project. For other people (since I am capturing three energies) have just finished an argument with a family member and the argument was pretty intense. It left you shaking or crying (You might get goosebumps too since I feel goosebumps all over my body). For others (the third energy) this is your pile if you have been wanting to travel somewhere and feeling content of how much you have worked on yourself. I see that you either want to travel or thinking about traveling with a woman could be a friend, mother, a female sibling that has (pisces, scorpio or cancer in her big three) or her energy in general. It could also be you who have those placements. The first and third energy are very content and happy it seems unreal I'm feeling so serene and content. The second energy is kind of nervous (I wish you all the best). I don't know if some of you are on their period? I'm feeling like I'm on my period lol ( I'm not even that close to having it).
The message:
Pile one your spirit guides are telling me that you saw alot of injustice in your life. What I mean is some of the people in this pile have been wronged and got treat like trash. So the message is the injustice that you faced throughout your life will finally appear and haunt all of the people that caused you sadness and anguish. The karma will get them in the most ruthless way they have ever seen in their life. Your spirit guides are telling me that you have been carrying a lot of trauma on your shoulders. A lot of injustice happened to this collective (I'm shivering and getting goosebumps all over). Your spirit guides are encouraging you to move on from whatever situation that is haunting you whatsoever. They are encouraging you to take the healing path so you can move on and become the best version of yourselves. I'm also hearing the phrase "Let them; karma will haunt them". So, your spirit guides want you to know that they are with you and you are protected and cherished by them.
Pile 2 - The moon
Where are you coming from?
I feel like I'm going to cry this piles energy is so sad and confused. This is your pile if you were visiting the court because of something regarding migration or travel, you perhaps got into the court because of a problem in the travel department. I see this piles energy is so heavy. This pile are my overthinkers pile and most people in this pile are devastated and defeated. This pile are for people who wanted to have equal give and take relationship but unfortunately all they got was bullying, abuse, and selfishness in return. This pile of people have been to a lot of trauma and mental anguish. I'm so sorry for what you have been through guys. I see that this pile is for people who have had a very possessive partner or their family is so strict. This pile for you if you are a Taurus, or air sign (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). You might just ended a very dark chapter in your life and you are reminiscing over the past. You are in a place where you want to stay but there's something ain't right. I'm hearing the phrase "I want to go; probably I will stay another year". This pile wants to end things but they are stuck and confused with the past's memories and good time. Do not allow what happened (the past) to keep you stuck!. What in the past will remain in the past.
The message:
Your spirit guides are telling you that this chapter of your life is coming to an end so stop worrying about what will happen and what could've happened. I see that this pile are feeling trapped and helpless. Your spirit guides are encouraging you to be more gentle with yourself. You don't have to feel anxious all the time. And the indecision you are in will unfold on its own. Once this chapter is closed you'll be able to be more assertive and successful in your life. Believe me this pile (Not all of them) are going to meet a man who is going to be their rock in this life time; I'm not seeing marriage but this man is going to help you heal and be more successful and content with him. He might be your next partner. Your spirit guides are telling me that this man is very earthy, he might be a Taurus or have Taurus placements. He is so gentle, sweet and stubborn. He will help you with finances and elevate your self esteem. With this man you are going to build an empire. Just please don't give up yet. There's a lot to live for!.
Pile 3 - Crystal ball
Where are you coming from?
I see that this pile had a fallout friendship and you just finished talking to that person via text or call and it left you wandering if it was worth what you offered to this friendship or not. I see that this pile is surrendering to the fact that that friend caused you a lot of trouble and they were just causing further damage and you had to stop them. If this is not the case then this pile have just heard or finished texting a friend who had a very bad argument with someone. Other energies in this pile are my "It Girl" bad bitches who started to see the strength and resilient within themselves. I see that you are so focused on your stability and health. I see that you were planning to open or start a project after you got inspired by an old woman or a celebrity. Or this project is something you wanted to do since you were a child or this project has something to do with your inner child. I see that this project will go well and you will feel so happy and satisfied with the results. This piles energy is so sweet and determined unlike pile 2 I felt like I'm losing my mind lol. Good luck guys with whatever you are going to do. This is your pile if you are born under any fire sign (Aries, Leo, Sagittarius) you don't have to be but if the description resonated then this is your pile.
The message:
Your spirit guides are telling you that there's a decision that you have to make regarding traveling or staying in your place. You might want to relocate or change your address. Your spirit guides are encouraging you to get out of your comfort zone and embrace the change. They are telling you to be more open to changes. They are telling you that after this change your life will not be the same. They are telling you that you will be more happy and successful. After facing this change. I'm seeing that the changes that will happen are because of an older man, perhaps your father, boss or someone who is older than you. This person wants the best for you. He want you to work hard and to be more responsible and dedicated to your project. I'm seeing that your project will be so creative and well liked by others and it will give you the satisfaction that you deserve. I'm hearing the phrase "you can live a life beyond your wildest dreams, all you have to do is change everything".
Post date: 24th/ Aug/2024 - Sat
*Feedback is more than appreciate
#pick a card#pick a pile#free tarot#occult#tarot community#tarot reading#divination#divination readings#witchy#free divination
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Everyone asked for both so I’m gonna do both :3, PLEASE I am not a talented writer or anything please excuse me if it’s not as good
Lucifer X reader Headcanons
- Before Lucifer met you, he was definitely an emotional wreck.
He spent all his time in his workshop, creating things as a coping mechanism.
But as soon as he locked eyes with you, it was like a light bulb in him switched on, and he was instantly hooked on you.
- Lucifer tried his best to woo and court you.
As if his last moments on earth depended on it, he would smother you in gifts, specifically custom-made ducks that he always made sure were made with love and perfection.
His desire for you was so intense that he devoted all his efforts to winning your heart and making you his.
It was as if all his sorrows and woes melted away the moment he saw you.
- There were times that Lucifer almost gave up.
As he feared that you didn't return his feelings, thoughts of failure and despair filled his mind.
However, when you finally accepted his advances, he was overwhelmed with joy.
So much so, that he jumped into your arms and held you tightly.
It was a moment of pure blissful happiness, and he knew that he never wanted to let go.
- Lucifer was so focused on wooing you that he forgot to tell his daughter about you.
He was so concerned about making things perfect that he did everything in his power to ensure that your meeting was as perfect as possible.
He was so worried that you might not like each other that he tried to prepare for every possible scenario.
Spoiler alert, you and Charlie loved each other
- While visiting Charlie’s Hotel, a certain red-haired male was stepping a little too close to you for Lucifer’s comfort.
Lucifer saw the male coming closer and closer and grew increasingly concerned.
He did not like the idea of someone else being close to you, especially Alastor
Lucifer felt jealous and protective, and he wanted to make sure that the male kept his distance.
Safe to say you spent the rest of the visit with lucifers arm around your waist.
- Lucifer loves to take you out on romantic dates.
He always finds the perfect places to take you, with the most delightful settings.
He takes you to intimate restaurants, candlelit dinners, and romantic walks on the best beach in hell.
He makes sure to plan everything to the smallest detail, so that you always feel special and pampered.
Lucifer wants to show you how much he cares and appreciates you, and he does it through romantic dates that are always perfect.
- While Lucifer does have his shortcomings, he will go as far as needed to prove to you just how much you are loved every day.
He is committed to making your life a series of surprises and magical moments, and he will always go the extra mile to ensure that you feel loved and cherished.
In the end, Lucifer may have his faults, but he will never let them interfere with making sure you feel special and appreciated every single day.
Adam X reader Headcanons
- Adam does not typically get into relationships, but when he does, he tends to exhibit similar behavior patterns. He engages in playful teasing and name-calling as a way to show affection toward his partner.
Although these antics can seem somewhat derogatory, Adam ensures that his partner never actually feels bad as a result. While he might playfully poke fun at his partner at times, he is also capable of being loving and supportive (barely).
- Adam is not a typical romantic, and he is not used to expressing these types of feelings. Even so, he tries his best to court you in his own way.
There are times when he may act a little awkward or mean, but beneath it all, he truly cares for you.
While he might stumble over his words or lack the grand gestures, Adam shows his feelings through small gifts and nicknames.
- Although you might not be showing any signs of affection, Adam would never give up on courting you. He is persistent and determined to win your heart.
Even if you were to continuously reject him, he would continue to pursue you. Adam feels deeply for you, and he is willing to go to great lengths to make you his own.
So, if you truly want him, Adam would never stop trying to win you over with his endearing charms.
- Once you finally surrendered to his charms, Adams ego grew even bigger.
As part of his big ego, he became extremely affectionate and public in his displays of affection. He wants everyone to see you as a couple, and he doesn't mind who's watching.
Adam wants everyone to know that you're his, and he is going to make sure everyone knows it.
- Adam is an incredibly possessive and insecure man (I wonder why 👀), and he dislikes seeing other men around you.
When a male approaches you, Adam quickly swoops in, giving the other man a dirty look and then proceeding to make out with you in front of him. With his dominant display of affection, he makes sure that the other man knows his place.
Then, he takes you by the hand and leads you away, anticipating the night that awaits you both.
- Adam is a romantic man, and he enjoys date nights with you. He loves to spend time sitting on his balcony with you, eating takeout, and engaging in fun gossip.
However, he also appreciates having nice dinners together, and he enjoys taking you to the hottest concerts in town.
He also likes to express his affection for you through singing, he cherishes your presence more than anything else.
- Even with his flaws and occasional mistakes, Adam is a decent lover overall.
He may be imperfect and stumble at times, but his genuine desire to make you happy is what matters most. Although he may make occasional jabs and tease you, it all boils down to his genuine care for you.
At the end of the day, your happiness is what Adam truly cares about more than anything else. Even through all the ups and downs of a relationship, he will always do what it takes to make you happy.
- Adams favourite movie is frozen.
IM SORRY IF THIS IS OOC ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING IN SO LONG
#hazbin hotel#hazbin adam#hazbin lucifer#helluva boss#hazbin#lucifer x reader#adam x reader#Lucifer x reader hazbin hotel#Adam x reader hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel Adam#hazbin hotel lucifer#alastor#charlie morningstar#lucifer x reader hazbin#Adam x reader hazbin#hazbin Adam x reader#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin Lucifer x reader#x reader
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written in the stars | bridgerton!txt
as I've now written three full stories in this universe, I thought I should put them all into a series masterlist - please enjoy :)
TXT Masterlist
. . . . .
if you'll have me | choi yeonjun
~ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4
Yeonjun Choi, Duke of Hastings, is in want of a wife. Boxed in from all directions by the overbearing mamas of the ton, he begins his arduous search this season for not fortune, not love, but merely the perfect woman to succeed his mother's place. None of the daughters of high society manage to catch his eye, however, or fit his overwhelming list of standards—at least until he meets Miss Y/N L/N, the queen's diamond of the season, newly arrived in town from abroad and said to be one of the most accomplished women to grace the ton in a generation. You, the eldest daughter and only child of the L/N family, just want stability. With your father dead and the estate passed to a cousin, leaving only your dowry and a small pittance from the inheritance left intact, you begin your search for a husband with money enough to keep you and your mother afloat. It seems like a miracle when, after being crowned the queen's diamond, the Duke of Hastings himself asks for your hand—but as you learn of his complete indifference to the concept of love, you begin to doubt yourself. Perhaps money is not enough to keep your hand—maybe you desired a true love match more than you thought. Trapped in a marriage of convenience that everyone believes is a love story, you and Yeonjun find yourselves forced to reevaluate what you want out of this match. Between balls and promenades, dances and poetry, you begin to view each other beyond the pithy conversations allowed in the courting stages, learning to see one another not just as business partners, but perhaps friends as well. And as you begin to reconcile your needs and wants, your goals and desires, maybe, just maybe— The ton's belief that you are a love match can find some truth, too.
.
a very fine line, indeed | choi beomgyu
~ part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8
In a society where it only takes a year for a young woman in search of a husband to be considered out of season, it is no wonder that by your third year out, you are desperate to marry. Known as one of the beauties of the ton, such a task should not be difficult for you—but with an absent father, no dowry, and a reputation centered around your inability to keep your mouth shut around one certain Beomgyu Choi, your prospects are more limited than you’d like. While you cannot recover your family or your wealth, however, the one thing you can try to control is your reputation. So when the third season rolls around, you resolve to keep your distance from Beomgyu Choi, your childhood enemy, and the man you hate most in the world. Enter Beomgyu Choi, second son of the Kensington Viscountcy, one of the most eligible bachelors in the ton. His older brother, cousin, and good friend have all recently married, leaving the mamas to salivate at his doorstep for the chance of marrying one of their daughters to him. When Beomgyu walks in on a particularly traumatizing moment between you and one of the most unsavory men in the ton and learns of your desperation to marry, despite your history of enmity, he proposes you a devious deal—to pretend to court you. It seems like a winning situation for both of you—more gentlemen will take notice of you, enhancing your prospects, and he will have the ton’s mamas off his back—and so, despite your misgivings, you agree. With you hell bent on marriage and Beomgyu completely indifferent to the concept, even independent of your hatred for each other, it seems unlikely that any sort of true affection will bloom. But as you begrudgingly put aside your differences to spend more and more time in one another’s company, and as you grow to know each other beyond your ill-conceived preconceptions from childhood, you begin to realize that perhaps you two have more in common than you had once thought. And as your faked acquaintanceship becomes more truth than fiction, a friendship beginning to bloom most unexpectedly— Perhaps you no longer need to convince the ton of the veracity of your courtship, because anyone with eyes can see that it is true.
.
melody of the heart | kang taehyun
~ part 1 | part 2
When your father calls you home from the continent to join the London season, for the first time in your life, you nearly throw a fit. You are not just the daughter of a viscount—you’ve made a name for yourself in England and abroad with your prodigious talent at the piano, having since childhood performed for royal courts far and wide. You have traveled far and beyond most other ladies of your rank, and to have your career halted all for the sake of marriage to a man who will likely force you to quit your craft is unthinkable. But all your life you have lived without raising a hand to your father, and so when the letter comes, you return home for the season, hoping and praying to make it through without stirring the waters. Enter Taehyun Kang, Earl of Addiston—recently titled, in search of a wife, and as tired of the season already as you are. During a chance meeting at the season’s third ball you grow to know each other, and as time passes you grow to like each other, a mutual respect forming when you learn the depths of one another’s passions in the arts. In Taehyun you find a respite from the men who would clip your wings for the sake of finding a perfect wife. In you Taehyun finds a kindred spirit who would respect him for himself, and not the lands in his name. Together you navigate the grueling social activities of the London matchmaking project as acquaintances, then as friends, and maybe, just maybe— As lovers, too.
#bridgerton#tomorrow x together#tomorrow by together#yeonjun#soobin#beomgyu#taehyun#huening kai#txt yeonjun#txt soobin#txt beomgyu#txt taehyun#txt huening kai#choi yeonjun x reader#choi soobin x reader#choi beomgyu x reader#kang taehyun x reader#huening kai x reader#written in the stars#blossom-hwa
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