#thing went right. then she could treat the other thing. but she’s doing great and I’m incredibly nauseous and anxious but otherwise good. I

[godblooded]

today i’m gay & tired and finally eating chocolate ice cream.

[dredshirtroberts]

y'know that post that's like everyone's got their special super power or whatever, it might just look a little different from the super hero movies? right?

yeah my bio family's version of that is Impeccably Bad Timing

[ladysharmaa]

Kate mini version

Anthony Bridgerton x Kate Sharma x Sharma!sis

Summary: Y/n adapted to the Bridgerton family dynamic. However, she remains a little fearful and shy. Could the arrival of a prince change that?

part 1 part 2 part 3

Ever since Kate and Anthony assured Y/n that they wanted her to live with them, things had gotten better. The girl felt more comfortable with them, and appreciated the effort the couple made to show that she was always welcome. Riding horses for the three of them was an almost regular activity now, and these afternoons were Y/n's favorite.

Anthony had given her a beautiful black mare, which she insisted on learning to wash and comb, even though there were servants for that purpose. The man then spent the rest of the month teaching her how to ride, and this was something that brought her very close to Anthony, who she now considered like a brother.

The truth was, living with her older sister and her husband was wonderful. There was never a dull moment and she always had someone to talk to. Furthermore, the relationship between her and Kate was the strongest, and they were more inseparable than ever. Y/n's mother had agreed that her daughter would stay at Viscount's house for a while and thus extended her stay in India.

However, even though she was comfortable in that smaller core, she still felt shy around Anthony's siblings. She loved them all, and they always treated her equally, but in the back of her head there was always that thought that she was intruding.

Now, the Bridgerton family plus Y/n were on their way to the park to have a picnic. The season was starting again and suitors from all over the world were arriving to try to find someone. On the way there, Y/n entertained herself by listening to Eloise's grumbling that she would be entering the season again, even if the last thing she wanted was to find a husband.

Bridgerton had made a point of giving Y/n her feminist speech, and despite the eye rolls she received from some of her siblings, Y/n agreed with everything she said. However, she always wanted to be married to a man who truly loved her, and that wasn't going to change.

It was a sunny day, perfect for staying right by the lake and enjoying the delicious food that the maids had prepared. Anthony and Kate were in their own world, whispering to each other with gigantic smiles, Benedict and Collin were appreciating the ladies passing by, and Eloise was reading her book while Violet had met Lady Danbury and the two were chatting animatedly. Daphne and Simon hadn't arrived with their son yet, but Y/n couldn't wait to play with the baby again.

Meanwhile, she, Hyacinth, Gregory and Francesca were walking around the lake, picking up rocks and seeing who could throw them the furthest. Probably not the most etiquette thing they could do, but Violet and Anthony hadn't stopped them yet so they continued.

"I'm starting to get tired." Y/n grumbled, rolling the shoulder of her arm that was starting to feel sore from throwing so many rocks. "I think I'll sit down and get some sun."

"We'll be right there and keep you company then. I just need to beat Gregory first!" Hyacinth promised.

Y/n smiled towards the three, then heading towards the lawn where the others were. She momentarily looked down, seeing that she had gotten a little dirty on her dress when she went up against someone. The force of the impact had been so great that she lost her balance and began to fall backwards. However, this never happened because someone managed to grab her arms and pull her up again.

When she opened her eyes, having closed them in preparation for the fall, she saw a young man, around her age, looking worriedly at her. "Are you alright? My apologies, Miss, I was distracted and didn't see you."

"I'm okay." she said a little breathlessly. Their proximity didn't help either. "I'm the one who apologizes. I should be looking ahead instead of at my dress."

"It is a beautiful dress." he said, taking the opportunity to look her up and down, letting a small smile form on his lips. Y/n's cheeks immediately started to turn pinker. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…"

"Sharma." Y/n smiled. "I'm sorry, I don't recall who you are."

"Prince Charles, the youngest son of Queen Charlotte and King George." he chuckled when he saw Y/n's wide eyes, who quickly made a small bow. "Please, that's not necessary. On top of that, I was the one who almost made you fall to the ground."

"My apologies, Prince Charles. I returned from India only a few months ago and it seems that I still don't know everything I should know. This mistake will not be repeated."

"It wasn't anything serious. To be honest, I'm actually glad you didn't immediately know who I was. I went against you because I was running away from an Earl's daughters who were begging me to marry them." A silence fell over them. "Who are you here with?"

"My sister and her husband's family. Viscount Anthony Bridgerton and Viscountess Kate Bridgerton." Y/n looked over his shoulder, seeing Anthony staring in her direction, more specifically at the Prince. He was about to get up when Kate pulled him down again, sending Y/n a smile and a wink. "They're looking at us right now."

"Of course, I know who they are. My mother loved the love story between them. Since then, she has only told my older siblings that she wants them to have something like that too. But they are not very interested in getting married, much to the Queen's disappointment."

Y/n just let out a small chuckle in response, not really knowing what to say. The proximity to the prince was becoming increasingly intimidating, and it didn't help that the entire Bridgerton family had noticed that interaction and were now observing discreetly.

"I apologize, Prince Charles, but I must return to my sister's family. We came to take advantage of this beautiful day to have a picnic."

"Of course, Miss Sharma. I hope to see you again soon." he nodded with his hands clasped behind his back. With a smile, he went back on his way while Y/n walked over to where Kate and Anthony were, her cheeks painted a light pink.

"What were you talking about?" Anthony questioned without being able to control himself any longer, his half-closed eyes still focused on the back of the boy walking in the distance.

Kate rolled her eyes at Anthony's exaggerated protectiveness, but the truth is that her heart started to beat faster when she saw how Anthony had so much care and affection for Y/n. It made her imagine how protective he would be of their daughters.

"Don't pay attention to Anthony, Y/n. The prince seemed very interested in talking to you. You should have gone for a walk together."

"Sister!" the younger girl exclaimed with wide eyes, becoming even more embarrassed. "He was just apologizing for going against me."

"That boy, prince or not, should look where he is going! Irresponsible, that's what he is!" Anthony continued to mumble, ignoring the look his wife sent him.

"Well, I am delighted that you made a new friend, Y/n. Now come sit with us for a while and drink some water, it's very hot."

"You're getting worse than mother." Y/n rolled her eyes in amusement. She added with a wink, "I guess it's a good training for the future."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"I do not want to go." Y/n stated, crossing her arms defiantly.

"Sister, we've already had this conversation." Kate repeated for the thousandth time, but still with the same patience as the first time. The older woman sighed, looking understandingly at her sister who was looking at the floor with a pout. "What are you really afraid of? It's your first ball, it's normal for you to be nervous."

Y/n was going to be subject to the season for the first time, where she could meet her future husband. Despite all the nerves she felt, she was happy to have Kate, Anthony, and the rest of the Bridgerton family with her. Furthermore, she would be in the same situation as Francesca, except that the latter had been named diamond of the season.

"How's mother and Edwina?" Y/n tried to change the subject, instead asking about the two other Sharmas who were in Prussia. Edwina was pregnant with her first child with Prince Friedrich and Mary had gone there, after a brief stop in England, to support Edwina.

"Y/n, don't change the subject. You can talk to me."

"What if no one asks me to dance, Kate?" Y/n finally revealed her fears shyly. She spoke so quietly that Kate had to strain to understand her words, but when she did her eyebrows furrowed in sadness. "You and Anthony took me in, what if now no one asks me to dance and I make you look bad?"

"First of all, you could never make us look bad and we would never be disappointed in you. I even think Anthony's biggest dream would be if you and Francesca didn't dance with anyone." Kate chuckled knowing how protective her husband was. "And I don't want you to be forced to dance with anyone. You can say no if someone invites you to dance and you don't want to. And if anything happens, call Anthony or his brothers."

"I will." the girl nodded, seeing her sister's serious look. "I hope everything goes well."

"Of course it will! And you won't be alone, we'll all be there in case you need anything. And who knows, maybe you'll see a certain prince. I heard the queen is going to make him participate in this season."

Y/n didn't respond to the teasing, she just continued to get ready with the help of the maids. When Anthony called them from downstairs, the two sisters hurried to meet him, seeing that the rest of the family was already there with the exception of Francesca.

When they saw her, a big smile appeared on everyone's faces, Violet going to give her a hug as soon as she reached the end of the stairs and Daphne holding her hand. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you." she smiled at the women, and was later praised by Eloise, and the Bridgerton brothers.

Then, it was Francesca's turn to go down the stairs, catching their attention. After the compliments she received, the girl stood next to Y/n, the two holding hands as they walked to the carriages waiting for them.

"You look very beautiful, diamond of the season." Y/n said with a teasing smile, squeezing her hand in Francesca's in comfort.

"You do as well, Princess Sharma." Francesca giggled. To relieve the tension, the girl looked straight ahead at Anthony who was helping Kate into the carriage, his forehead dripping with sweat as he looked discreetly at the two teenagers. "I think my brother is going to pass out from how nervous he looks."

"Tonight promises to be quite interesting. At least he has my sister to control him a little, or I think he would be glaring at every suitor in the room, even if they didn't even want anything to do with us."

When they arrived at the Queen's castle, they were both amazed by the place. An orchestra played in the middle while some couples were already dancing, the space decorated with various details and chandeliers lighting up the room. When the Bridgerton family entered, everyone stopped to observe the diamond of the season, who was still clinging to Y/n.

To give her the focus of attention, Y/n tried to move away but Francesca just grabbed her hand tighter, sending her a look of fear. The Sharma girl nodded in understanding, then stood on Francesca's side, also being subjected to the curious looks of other people.

"Come on, girls." Anthony said, guiding the family to a corner while everyone analyzed the environment. He then turned to his two friends, who in his eyes were too young to be thinking about suitors, but he knew that this was the right age. "If you need anything, and I mean anything, go to one of us. We'll always be here to make sure you're okay. Now, all of you split up and socialize."

"They already look so nervous and you're going to scare them even more with your nerves." Benedict placed a hand on his older brother's shoulder. "Relax, brother. Go dance with your wife, we are also here to take care of them."

"I know." Anthony sighed, running a hand over his face. His tense muscles only relaxed when he felt Kate's hand caress his arm as she smiled understandingly. "Shall we dance, Viscountess Bridgerton?"

"We shall." she giggled, letting her husband guide her to the center of the room.

Meanwhile, Y/n watched the people at the ball nervously and curiously. They were all dressed to the nines, with the best fabrics and jewelry that showed the families' wealth and status. The Sharma smiled slightly when she noticed a girl being asked by a suitor. It was obvious that they were both nervous, but when he finally managed to ask the question, the girl blushed and accepted with a big smile.

Y/n sighed, turning her attention elsewhere. Her heart was beating heavily against her chest, wondering if she was going to experience the same situation as that girl.

A light touch on her shoulder made her snap out of her thoughts. Y/n turned to the side, her eyes widening when she saw Prince Charles standing there, both hands behind his back and a perfect smirk on his lips.

"Miss Sharma, what a pleasure to see you again."

"Prince Charles." she greeted, making a small bow. "This time I haven't forgotten my manners."

"I must say you look beautiful tonight." he praised, gently taking one of her delicate hands and bringing it to his lips, lightly kissing her skin. Y/n's cheeks immediately flushed, getting worse when she realized that they were attracting the attention of others. "Are you enjoying the ball?"

"Very much, thank you. The orchestra plays beautifully. It's lovely to see so many people dancing, especially my sister and Viscount Bridgerton. I have never seen them happier."

"Indeed. We could dance too… If you would like to, of course." Y/n didn't think she had ever seen the boy being shy, but she had to admit that it was really cute to see him like that.

"Are you sure? Many people are already looking at us… Including the Queen." she whispered the last part with a look of fear. "Are you supposed to find a lady to marry this year?"

"My mother hopes so, but she doesn't pressure me into anything. Right now, I just want to dance with you. Please? Don't pay attention to anyone else, just focus on me."

Y/n swallowed hard, but nodded, resting her hand on the arm Charles offered. The two walked to the dance floor as soon as the song ended, preparing for a new melody. The Sharma girl held her breath when she felt the boy's hand position itself on her waist, pulling her closer, while the other intertwined with hers.

The music started slowly and Y/n let the prince lead her, too nervous to even remember the choreography she had already practiced several times before. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kate and Anthony looking at them as they danced, giving nods of encouragement but still keeping their attention on them.

The rest of the people looked in shock, seeing the youngest son of the Queen and the King dancing with the sister of Viscountess Bridgerton who had caused a lot of talk last season. The Queen was also watching them, a small smile appearing on her lips.

"You're not just focusing on me." Charles hummed, squeezing her waist to show she was just joking. "And on top of that I'm a great dancer."

"My apologies. But I can't agree with the last part. I think —" but she couldn't finish her sentence as Charles picked her up and twirled her around several times until her laughter could be heard above the music.

"Sorry, what were you saying?" he laughed teasingly, loving the blush on her cheeks. He wanted to make her blush all the time, he loved the effect he had on the girl who was constantly on his mind since that day in the park.

"Prince Charles, this will certainly not be seen very well by other people. They are all whispering about us now! More than they already were."

"Call me Charles." He said, ignoring the rest of what Y/n said. His eyes were intense, studying the girl's face and stopping on her lips before moving up to her eyes.

"No."

"No?" he raised his eyebrows, as if he wasn't expecting that answer. Y/n stepped away from him, making a small bow. And only then did he realize that the song had already ended.

"I really enjoyed this dance, thank you. I hope to meet you again. We keep crossing paths so who knows?" she smiled, turning her back and walking towards Francesca who was alone in the corner, a drink in her hand.

Prince Charles definitely wanted to see Y/n Sharma again, his gaze following the girl's movements as if in a trance. Surely him standing in the middle of the dance floor looking at Y/n would be the main topic in the paper of Lady Whistledown.

[righoul]

【Ｍｉｄｎｉｇｈｔ　Ｗｈｉｓｐｅｒｓ】

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

summary: it's your best friend's birthday, and she wants to go out to the club. you're not much of a party girl, but you do it anyways because you love her like a sister. it's a good thing you went, especially if it's a certain someone who can't keep his eyes off of you 😉

this kinda takes place in x-men origins: wolverine. that movie will always have a special place in my heart idc. also, I had a dream about this last night

warning: SMUT! 18+ MDNI. age gap, oral sex (f! receiving), cursing, unprotected PiV (don't be silly, wrap that willy), drinking, dirty talk, logan being kinda vocal, wingman!wade wilson, size difference, mention of anxiety (because mental health matters), praise kink, nicknames used: baby, darling, sweetheart, princess

words: 4.0k

Your best friend practically drags you through the mall as she makes a beeline to the dress store. What's the occasion, you may ask? It's her birthday today and she wants to go to a party at a club. You dread it, but if she is happy, you'll let down your antisocial wall. She's been begging on her hands and knees for you to come out and live your life. You hate crowded places, and you would much rather be in the comfort of your own home, in your sweatpants and tank top with a cozy cardigan and your hair in a messy bun while reading another Johanna Lindsey book. Is it cliché? Yes. Is it almost predictable? Fuck yes, but you love it anyways. You may call yourself a hopeless romantic, but your friend is right. You need to get laid ASAP. 

While you were mindlessly going through all the various dresses on the clothes rack, your friend pulled you away as she already made some selections for you. "Come on, try these on!" she exclaims. Some of them are not bad, but others are just damn right ugly or not your style. As you are about to enter the changing room, you hear the one voice that could only mean one thing. Your best friend’s boyfriend. “Oh, sweetie pie!” Wade announces in a singsong tune. Oh, great. You don’t necessarily hate Wade, he treats your best friend well and she’s taken well care of, sure, but this day was supposed to be just the two of you. 

“Hi, baby!” she squeals as Wade comes up to her and gives her a big old kiss in the mouth. Hey, God, it’s me again, you thought as you looked up at the ceiling. You close your eyes for just a few seconds to gather yourself and you look at the handsome pair. “Hey, Wade, it’s good to see you again.” You struggle to put the words together, but nonetheless, you put on a fake smile just to keep your friend happy. “It’s good to see you too,” he pulls you into a tight bear hug, cutting off your blood flow. “Oh, sorry, I’m just so excited to be here. I can’t miss out on this special day with my special girl.” He’s like a lovesick puppy. There was just something about Wade that made you be suspicious about him from the very beginning. He’s always gone, he doesn’t tell you or your bestie where he is or what he does. There was something off about him. Almost as if he’s living a double life. “Oh, honey!” your friend squeals again, giving him another open mouth kiss. Gross. 

“Well, while you guys catch up, I’m going to go ahead and try these on.” You mumble as you hold up a pile of dresses in your arms. Off to the dressing room, you go. 

The first dress you try on was a shiny, metallic gold halter top dress that stops at the mid thighs. On the front, it gives a deep V-neckline, making it hard to cover your breasts. It has slits on both sides, stopping at the waist and it is backless, curving at the bottom and stopping at the top of your ass. Sure, it was cute, if you were planning on being a stripper. You try on the next dress. Now, this one was cute, and you thought about saying yes to it just to get this over with. But you thought about it for a second longer and realized you’re going to be dying in it. It was black mesh sequin dress that barely covers your ass, and it had flare sleeves that are see-through. Last thing you want is to have sweaty armpits, causing the dress to have pit stains for the rest of the night. No, thanks. Next one. Too girly. Another one. Makes you look pale. The one after that. Cute, but not ideal for clubbing. Another one. This looks more like a prom dress than anything. You’re about to give up until you notice the last dress. You try it on, and lo and behold, this dress was the one. It is a dark green sequin mini dress that stops at mid-thigh with a sweetheart neckline with an adjustable skinny strap. Perfect.

You change back into your normal clothes, not even bothering to show it off to your best friend. Besides, she’s too busy with her boyfriend, practically eating each other’s faces. You made your way to the cash register, and you made your purchase. You thank them and make your way back to your friend and Wade, hopefully she got the hint that it was time to go. “Oh, you got a dress?” your friend asks. “Which one did you end up picking?” “You’ll see.” You reply mischievously with a little wink. She’s surprised about your remark, but she quickly brushes it off. Little did you know, while you were trying on all the dresses she picked out, her and Wade were conjuring up a plan. Wade was telling his girlfriend about his friend that he can set up with you. Well, he’s not exactly a friend, per se, but a fellow acquaintance of his. They work together, sure, but he’s kind of a grump. Now there’s just one problem. Wade hasn’t even talked to him about hooking up with you. Now that is going to be the tricky part. 

“You think you can bring your friend along?” your friend asked. “Oh yeah, he’ll come.” Wade responded. Your friend was constantly looking over in your direction while you were in the changing room, hoping to not get caught by you. “What if this plan fails?” “Baby, it’ll work.” Wade puts his hands on her shoulders, soothing her. “I’ll make sure to see to it. Besides, he’s not a bad guy. Sure, he’s a little rough around the edges, but it’ll be good for him. For both of them.” Your friend lets out a deep sigh. “Okay. I trust you. But if this plan doesn’t work, you owe me big time.” She jammed her pointer finger at his chest harshly and Wade laughed, but he knew deep down inside, she scares him and that’s what he loves about her. She keeps him grounded, and he always makes sure to fulfill his promises.

*Later that night*

You put on your brand new dress that you bought and you put on a pair of black high heels to go along with it. Meanwhile, your friend put on a baby pink dress with puffy sleeves and white heels that wrap around the calves. She put on some subtle makeup while you put on a smoky appearance. Her hair was done in loose curls in a half low ponytail with a white bow and your hair was done straight as a pencil. When you walked out of your bedroom, your friend was surprised to say the least. She claimed that you look like a totally different person, but you brushed it off. You didn’t think she was being serious and you assumed she was just being nice because you both knew this isn’t like at all. But, she was right. You did look amazing.

You and your friend got there at the club, scanning to find Wade. You thought it was kind of weird that he didn’t pick you guys up at your place, but you dropped it pretty quick. You guys grabbed your drinks from the bar and went out to the dance floor. You were honestly having a good time. You felt so free. So liberating. Normally, you would feel anxious in large crowds like tonight, but with the help of some liquid courage, that all subsided. Wade finally came down to the dance floor and greeted your best friend with a kiss on the cheek.

“Happy birthday, baby!” Wade shouted over the loud bass of the music.

“Thank you!” your friend shouted back.

“Thanks for stopping by!”

“Yeah, of course, Y/N! I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

As you were about to throw back on your drink, your cup was empty.

“Hey! I’m about to get myself a round two! Did you want anything?” you asked your friend.

“I’m still working on mine! But, thank you!”

“I’ll be back!”

You sauntered your way back to the bar again and asked for the bartender.

“Rum and Coke, please.” you ordered your drink to the tall man behind the bar.

“You got it, miss.” he winked at you.

You felt flatter for the gesture, but you knew deep down you wouldn’t pursue it. Ever since you guys walked into this place, you had men staring at you nonstop. You felt like an innocent fawn in a den full of lions, greedily licking their lips and wanting to get a piece of meat out of you. All the barstools were taken up by men, and now that there was a pretty woman in their proximity, they all of a sudden didn’t know how to think with their heads, but with their dicks. All eyes were on you tonight. The anxiety was about to creep up to your throat to the point it felt hard to breathe. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. You should’ve stayed at home.

“That would be $5.50, miss.” the bartender smiles.

You were about to reach for your bag when you felt a large hand on your lower back. You looked over who it was, but looking over at the man to your right knocked the wind out of you. He was ruggedly handsome. He has dark brown hair that was done messily with mutton chops to go along with his fluffy hair. He wore dark blue jeans with a belt to hold it up to his hips, a pair of boots, a white wife beater, flannel, and a dark brown leather jacket to complete his bad boy exterior. 

“I got it, darlin’,” the stranger looked at you, smugly. “don’t worry ‘bout it.”

You were just stunned, you didn’t know what to say. This man was so dangerously handsome, you’ll do anything to keep this man’s attention on you. But, remember what your friend taught you. Never chase after a man. If he wants you that badly, walk him like a dog. And you intend to do that.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” the man bent over to your right ear and said with his cockiness, “use your words.”

Shit, shit, shit. So much for taking the reign.

“Oh, um.. thank you.” you replied sweetly.

“Attagirl.” 

Oh, so he wants to play that game. Well jokes on him, you can play along too. You have read so many scenarios where this plays out, it’s time to use that playbook. There was a spot that was available and the handsome fellow sat down, but still maintaining that contact with you.

“What’s your name, darlin’?”

“Y/N. What’s yours?”

“The name’s Logan.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

You didn’t know if it was the drink or you feeling bold, but you made your way to Logan and sat on his lap. His eyes widen and his jaw a little slacked, but quickly bounces back to his usual smug face before you could appreciate your small little victory. Your legs were across his laps and you kept your legs crossed on top of the other, giving Logan an aweing view of your scrumptious thighs. He had one hand placed on the small of your back, dangerously close to your ass and the other hand was resting outside your knee, rubbing small circles with his thumbs,

You guys have been talking and flirting for about 30 minutes, and everything was going so smoothly for tonight. There was a small part of you that didn’t want this night to end, but there was that sinking feeling that you felt that this was going to be a one time experience and you’ll never see him again. Your hand was resting at the nape of his neck, giving him light scratches. Logan let out some low purrs. He loves the way that you’re giving him all this attention from a pretty thing like yourself. But he had this gnawing feeling that he shouldn’t do this to you. You were so young and naive, you never really got to experience life to the fullest. He promised a friend that he was going to hook up with a girl that he knew, get acquainted and maybe get something more out of it. Possibly a relationship. But Logan knows that never comes easily with him. Everyone that he ever loved dies in the end. You were just so sweet and innocent. He couldn’t put you through that. 

“Say, wanna get out of here?” Logan asked.

At first, you were hesitant. Wasn’t this what you wanted? I mean, yes. Look at him. This man is built like a god. You didn’t want to ditch your friend on her birthday to go sleep with some guy. But then again, you’ve been gone for a while and she didn’t seem to notice you. So, fuck it. 

“Yeah, sure.” you replied.

You got off his lap and Logan got off his seat, and he walked you out of the busting night club. You both decided to go to your apartment where you were most comfortable. Logan didn’t seem to mind. It was probably for the best since your apartment is probably nicer than his and he wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. A gentleman, I know. You fished for your keys in your purse and let yourselves in. 

“Please, make yourself at home.” you exclaimed. “Can I get you something?”

“You got any beer?” Logan asked.

“I got Budweiser. Is that okay?”

Logan would’ve died on the spot. It’s almost as if you were made for him. Like he drew a mental picture of you and manifested it. 

“Now we’re talking.”

You giggled at his response and went to the fridge to grab two bottles. If Logan almost died from you knowing his favorite beer, he would’ve melted from your lovely laugh. You truly were made from him.

You both settled on the couch and facing each other, you both went back to talking from the last conversation at the bar. Logan, resting his arm behind the couch while nesting a bottle while you were curled up, tucking your feet behind you and resting a hand on your chin, honing in everything and digesting every word that comes out of his mouth. 

“So, what was a pretty thing like yourself at a bar?” Logan asked.

“Oh, the funny thing is it’s my friend’s birthday and we were out celebrating.” I chuckled softly. “I guess she’s still there with her boyfriend so I don’t feel too guilty.”

Logan chuckled roughly. “Ah man, I’m sorry to drag you away.”

I waved my hand at him nonchalantly. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

After chatting again for about 15 minutes, you noticed that Logan is sitting closer and closer to you. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe because of how handsome he is. His lips were so close to yours, you could almost taste him. You caught him stealing a few glances down your chest, mentally undressing you, but you don’t seem to mind.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful tonight.” Logan whispered huskily.

You automatically placed your hand on his chest, chests basically touching.

“You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.” I whispered seductively. “Mind taking me out of this dress?”

Logan’s heart stopped for a moment when you asked him so bluntly. Of course, he wasn’t going to pass this opportunity. So he reached behind you and unzipped your dress. He gently laid you back on the couch as you moved to take off his flannel shirt. He slowly pulled your straps down one by one, as he was taking his sweet time with you, trying to memorize every little thing about your body. Logan finally slipped your dress off of you and the only thing standing in his way is your black lace thong.

“Fuck.” Logan shuddered a groan.

You tried to cover yourself, but Logan took one of his hands and pinned both your wrists above your head.

“Don’t get all shy now with me.” Logan growled. “I wanna see it all.

I whimpered at his rough exterior and wrapped your legs around his waist. He purred in approval.

“Logan…” You moaned. “Let me touch you.”

Logan chuckled darkly as you begged and whined while you’re getting super soaked in your panties, it was leaving wet spots in his pants. He pressed his hard on your heated, needy pussy. You whimpered at the contact, arching your back, hoping to feel him.

“Ahh, pretty baby wants to touch me?” Logan teased.

You nodded your head and he laughed. He leaned down and started sucking your neck, leaving hickeys and love bites at its wake. You begin to moan, and he chuckles darkly as he’s leaving kisses down between your breasts. Logan sat up straight to remove his shirt and undo his belt. He slipped his pants and boxers down, and went down to come face to face to your pussy. He left a little kiss on your clothed pussy and you whimpered while arching your back so far, it almost didn’t look natural. He chuckled how reactive you are to him and he’s enjoying every bit of it. He went to pick you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. He placed his hands on your ass, and leaned in for a kiss. You kissed him back happily as you took his face with your hands and you both moaned, fighting for dominance.

“Where’s your room, sweetheart?” Logan asked.

“First door on the right.” You moaned in his mouth.

He then leads you both to your room, still kissing you. As you both entered, he placed you on the bed as he crawled down on you. He forgot you still had your underwear on, so he ripped it off of your body. You gasped, not from ruining it but at how he ripped it off with ease.

“Sorry, princess. It was getting in the way.” Logan muttered and then he quickly went down to eat you out. You arched your back as you gripped the bed sheets. He placed his hand down on your lower stomach to hold you down. “Don’t move.” He growled as he looked up at you.

You fought your hardest to remain still. Logan went back to eat your pussy like a starved man, and you moved your fist to your mouth, biting back some moans. “Nah uh, I wanna hear you. I want this whole apartment to hear how good I’m makin’ ya feel.” Logan said roughly. You nodded your head as he went back to devouring his desert. You moaned loudly, it almost sounded pornographic and he chuckled darkly. “That’s it, darlin’. Attagirl.” He praised you. “Logan, I’m so..” You said sultry. “Go ahead. Come for me.” At demand, you did and you were starting to see white after this euphoric sensation and you were starting to come down from your high.

“On your hands and knees.” Logan demanded. You did as you were told and he purred at how easy you were to please. He’ll keep this in mind. He climbed behind you as he gripped your ass close to his hardened dick. He slowly smoothed your backside with one hand and he bent down to your ear, his cold dog tags touching your bare back, making you shiver. “Let me know if it gets too rough for ya.” Logan whispered sweetly. All you could do was nod your head. “I need words, sweetheart.” “Yes. Yes, I’ll let you know if it gets too much.” Logan smirked. “Attagirl.”

Logan then eased the tip of his cock into your heated entrance, and began to gasp heavily. “Oh, fuck.” You moaned and Logan chuckled. “Easy, princess, just breathe.” He slowly went inch by inch, feeling his length and his girth. It then becomes easy for you, going from painful to pleasure. Going from losing your breath to moaning into a hot mess. Logan began to pull back and slammed it back in. You jumped forward at the brutal force and you moaned in…pleasure? Pain? Honestly, who cares? It feels too good to stop. He kept pounding into you, starting to hit your cervix over and over again.

“Fuuuucck.” Logan growled as he looked up into the ceiling for a hot minute. He went to look back down as the relentless pounding is matching the rhythm to your ass bouncing back to his cock, making wet slapping noises. “You’re gonna be the death of me, princess.” You giggled at his comment as you turned your head at an angle to get a good look at him. Logan bent down again to kiss you on the lips, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Logan then flipped you on your back and his pounding into you again as you wrapped his legs around his waist. He went to intertwined his fingers into yours and he looked into your eyes. “Don’t close your eyes. I wanna see you come undone.” Logan warned. You nodded your head and said, “I won’t.” Logan nodded his head in approval. “Baby, I’m so close.” You moaned. “I know, I know. I’m right behind you.” You then reached your second climax of the night and you were spent. Logan’s hips started to stutter as he made a few good thrusts into you. “Where at?” Logan asked. “Inside. Safe.” You gasped between breaths, finding it hard to find the words. Logan nodded as he made one last thrust before he went still, painting your insides white.

Logan collapsed beside you and he pulled you into a lover’s embrace as you passed out. He kissed the top of your head as he whispered before you were completely out, “You did so good for me, baby. My perfect girl.”

The next morning, you stirred awake as you stretched your arms above your head. You looked out to your window and then you looked over to your right side of the bed, noticing that it was empty. Your heart sank to your chest. You were disappointed, but not surprised. Wishful thinking, you thought. You got out of bed and put on a fresh pair of panties and a short, silky bathrobe. You made your way to the kitchen and then you noticed a tan bare back with dark fluffy hair. He’s wearing his jeans low on his hips with no belt on. He’s cooking eggs and bacon on the stovetop. Logan turned around, took notice of your morning attire and he’s breath was taken away.

“Good morning, princess.” Logan said in his deep morning voice.

“Good morning.” You sighed happily. You went over to him and he grabbed you by the waist, making you gasp out loud. He leaned in for a kiss and you happily kissed him back.

“Oh, good!” Wade announced himself in the kitchen. “I see you met Y/N. The one that I mentioned to you before.”

Surprisingly, Logan didn’t growl at him. He stopped kissing you as you looked at Wade with a slack jaw like a fish in a hook. He went back to look down at you, and smiled, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you can say we got to know each other very well.” Logan winked at you after your “acquaintance” last night. You playfully slapped at his bare chest and he laughed.

“Next time if you guys are going to fuck, can you at least keep it down?” Wade whined. “It’s like coming across the Animal Channel.”

I picked up a towel and threw it at him. “Fuck off, will you, Wade?” Logan laughed as Wade scurried away. Logan wrapped his arms around my waist, palming my ass. “Hmmm. And here I thought I was gonna regret meeting you. But, Wade never described you. I guess I got lucky.” I leaned up to kiss him on the lips and he happily kissed me back. “To be honest, I didn’t know about any of this. I’m glad that I stumbled upon you.” Logan smirked at me. “Come on, before breakfast gets cold.”

[charliemwrites]

Part 6 of SpecGru (former 141) reader; Simon’s perspective again.

Content: brief implication/mention of reader having idle suicidal ideation. In the way of “I don’t care if something happens to me” kind of way. Happens during a phone call between Price and reader’s new captain.

Please be careful and safe. If someone needs this part summarized, let me know. I love you all very much <3

Here’s the truth of it: Simon never meant for you to leave.

You were too close, that was true. He did everything short of actually hurting you to drive you away. Treated you like a plaything, took your kindness and patience and feelings for him for granted. Left you cold and alone in a hospital bed — unable to see you pale and half-dead all because you were so goddamn headstrong…

That had put it all in vicious perspective. That he couldn’t keep you safe; knowing him, following him, would surely end with you on a metal table rather than a clean hospital bed.

In hindsight, he knows it was as much for his own sake as yours, trying to force that emotional distance between you two. But he just… he can’t do it. Not again. Not you. You’d break him.

But he never meant for you to leave. Not really.

Maybe take an extended solo mission. Or just break off the romance of it all. Maybe you’d stay away for a while, give him time to sort out his feelings and shove the useless ones back into the pit they belong in.

He didn’t expect you to be gone as soon as you could stand.

“You said yourself, Simon, she’s too young and reckless. The 141 can’t afford to babysit her,” Price explained.

“She nearly got you killed, LT,” Soap pointed out. That was before he found out that you were gone for good, not just on disciplinary leave.

And when he did…

“No. No, she dinnae…” he wiped a hand down his face, eyes going a bit glassy. “Why? Why would she… didn’t we mean anythin’ to her? I know we were all a bit on the rocks but ‘s just cos she gave us a scare…”

Gaz took it the hardest, showing up most morning with red-rimmed, puffy eyes. He tried texting you a hundred times; they never went through.

He and Soap begged Price to reconsider, saying that he had no right to kick you out without consulting the rest of the squad.

“I just told her that she should consider transfer,” Price corrected, steely.

“Same fuckin’ thing, ain’t it?” Soap raged. “What else ‘s she gonna do when it’s her captain sayin’ it?”

And Price had finally crumbled, his stubbornness giving way to a clearer head and regret in the aftermath. Simon knew how he felt; had been haunted with the same gut-wrenching feeling for two weeks by that point.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have…” he wiped a hand down his face. “I’ll call Laswell, see if she can put us through.”

As it turned out, your new team had deployed you almost immediately. You were gone, relying on teammates you barely knew, and there was no guarantee when (or even if) you’d be reachable again.

When Laswell put Price through to your new captain instead, he scoffed down the line.

“That how the great John Price sends off his own?” He gruffed.

“I take care of my own,” Price replied, narrow-eyed.

“That’s explains it then, doesn’t it?” A shifting on the other end. “Well, she’s one of mine now, at least; better off that way I think.”

He was on speaker phone with the SpecGru captain. Shouldn’t have been, but it wasn’t a confidential call. So the rest of the 141 was there, vibrating with the effort to stay quiet.

Simon balled his hands into fists, arms crossed. He didn’t trust anyone with one of theirs. No, you belonged right there with the rest of the 141. They could keep you safe, keep you alive.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Price growled.

“Let me just ask you this, Price. And only because I need to know how to take care of her.” A pause, shuffling of papers. Something heavy and almost… hesitant in the silence before- “Did she always have this DNR order?”

Price’s office turned to ice. Simon’s entire shuddered, cored out. The arm of the chair Soap was occupying cracked. Gaz’s hand was covering his mouth, blood draining from his face.

“No,” Price answered, voice little more than rust.

A grunt on the other end.

“Thanks for the insight,” your new captain replied, sounding nonplussed. “At least you were good for something.”

The line droned, dead.

—

You’re standing with the rest of SpecGru, beaming like each and every one of them hung a star just for you. They orbit like you’re the sun, even Nikto, holding you in his arms, letting you lean back against him.

(You used to look at Simon like that. Used to let him hug you like that on the occasion he was weak and gave into the temptation to hold you.)

Every time he looks at you, it’s like a stranger with your face all over again.

You hold your shoulders differently. Tilt your head different. Have a certain control over your facial features better than any mask Simon’s donned.

Today you’re dressed down from your tac uniform. Specifically, your long-sleeve thermal has been replaced by a sleeveless gym shirt. It reveals that tattoo he caught only a glimpse of before — a big, intricate thing from your shoulder down your wrist.

(He and Johnny were going to go with you for your first tattoo. You asked them for all sort of recommendations. Enjoyed tracing Simon’s sleeve when he let you.)

There are more scars too. Burns, bullet grazes, jagged knife marks and patches from bad scrapes.

Nova is finishing up the wrapping on your hand, the other already done. You’re listening to something Russ is spouting off about, whatever it is making you laugh loud enough to be heard where Simon is lurking.

“C’mon,” Johnny says, bumping shoulders with Simon. “Know we fucked up yesterday, but we can try again. Maybe letting her beat the shite out of us will help clear the air, aye?”

Simon forces himself to look away. He already knows you won’t be glancing over.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Maybe.”

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Masterlist

[shapelytimber]

Hellsing wives !!

the end of Hellsing is my roman empire

[PRINT] - [COMMISSIONS]

Bonus sketch, process and rambling below vvv

I don't usually share my sketches, but this one was cute :))

Hello welcome to my rambling zone, I have the bad habit of taking notes during the night because I'm an insomniac- enjoy ! And remember everything here is just my opinion written at 5am

I have a lot of conflicting feelings about Seras, because on one hand there is a lot I hate about her character :

-I *hate* her design. She is sexualized in a way that makes me really uncomfortable

-She is always the character that brings the worst part of the show (especially in the beginning) : the humor (and misogyny). She is treated as both the audience surrogate, and a comic relief, and that's a mix that do not work for me (and if you add the fact the humor doesn't make me laugh, and that she is more often than not treated as a pair of boobs and not a character- well it's hard for me to take her seriously)

-she was a cop (acab). And Alucard doesn't let me forget that because he calls her "police girl" the whole fucking show.... (But I can't complain about that because I kind of liked the pay off-)

-I find her romance with Pip boring (mainly because I find Pip boring I'm sorry), even tho I liked where it went. But if I find the man more interesting dead idk if that's a success.

-Her last apperance will always enrage me. After all her character growth, after you thought the writers *maybe* respected her a bit more..... One of the last thing you see from her is a panty shot. How to spit in my face for enjoying the ending ig

But on the other hand, despite all that.... The end of her character arc was kind of sick and she gets a lesbian ending lgkgkckgj so 5/10 character could be worse ig

But the shit that gets to me about all of that... is that I know Hellsing can pull off great women characters !! Integra is *right there* !!!

All of this to say I like doing fanart of mid medias I love because I get to fix some aspects of the original I didn't like <3

PS : I know Alucard is "dead" during the 30 years after the final, but you can decide if he is the dog or if they adopted a dog that reminded them of him :)

[fcwoso]

In the spotlight · Leah Williamson

Summary: you're attending an event with your girlfriend, hoping to be able to keep your relationship hidden but tipsy leah flips the whole script (chaotic/cute leah w/ special appearances of alessia and katie)

MASTERLIST

You had been officially dating Leah for a while now. The both of you decided to keep your relationship on the low, not wanting to draw any attention to yourselves. You realized Leah had to deal with enough already and didn’t want to add any more stress to her life. Leah didn’t see it that way, she felt like she had to protect you from the outside world, or more so, the media world. She knew how cruel they could be, and she could never do that to your precious heart. Most of her teammates knew about you two and had immediately welcomed you with open arms. They treated you like you were one of theirs and Leah was so grateful for that.

You were getting ready in your shared hotel room. The Arsenal team had an event tonight and the girls had begged you to come along with them. They repeatedly assured you no one would be bothering you. You had your doubts at first, afraid to put too much pressure on Leah. You didn’t want to send her any mixed signals of you wanting to make your relationship public. You’d love to, of course, just imagining you two going out not worrying about anyone taking pictures sounds incredible. But you were protecting each other, so this was the right thing to do.

Leah had entered the hotel room, her eyes lighting up as she saw you getting ready. A warm smile was plastered on her face, taking in the outfit you were wearing. She stepped closer, wrapped her arms around you from behind and placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, careful of her tinted lip gloss  leaving any marks on your skin. ‘’You look amazing, love.’’ She said. You turned around and chuckled, growing shy under her gaze. ‘’Thank you, you’re not so bad yourself’’ Was what you replied. It was true, she looked great.

‘’The girls are so happy you’re here.’’ She grinned. You knew they were, you had received multiple messages from them saying how they’ve missed you. The nerves started to grow as time went by and Leah couldn’t help but notice your forced smile, the internal struggle was evident on your face. She tilted her head, grin disappearing as she realized she might’ve missed something. ‘’Are you sure you’re up for the event tonight?’’ She began and placed a hand your cheek. You leaned into her warm touch and let out a small sigh. ‘’If you’re not comfortable, we can stay in. It’s okay, you know.’’ The blonde tried to reassure you, concern visible in her features.

You appreciated her understanding but shook your head. ‘’No, I really want to be there. I’m just a bit stressed, but it's fine’’ Leah’s eyes softened, and held your gaze. ‘’You don’t have to worry about anything, you’ve got me. The girls will be making sure no one bothers us.’’ She replied and gave a smile, making her dimples appear. ‘’You’re right.’’ Leah had calmed your nerves down, but you still mentally prepared yourself for the worst to happen. ‘’We’re leaving in about 5 minutes.’’ She announced after taking a look on her watch.

As you quickly finished getting ready, there was this sense of anticipation in the air. You headed to the elevators, hand in hand, and shared a tight embrace before meeting the girls downstairs. There was a small distance between you two while you were greeting everyone, not quite sure if there were any camera’s around.

Once at the event, you found yourself relaxing. You catched up with some of Leah’s teammates and shared photos of whatever you’ve been doing in your free time. Leah had tried to get close to you, aware of the camera’s that were flashing every now and then. Beth and Viv were happy to cover you guys while your lover tried to hold your hand. It resulted in you two intertwining your pinkies. You noticed how she tried to make you feel comfortable throughout the night, including you in every conversation she was having. But then, suddenly, glasses of champagne were getting served. You quietly warned Leah to be careful and the only thing she replied was ‘’I’m a responsible adult, no need to worry.’’ But you did. You were worried because you knew it only took two glasses for her to get tipsy.

You were sat next to Alessia, both of you started to become a bit tired. Everyone was doing their own thing now, your girlfriend had left your sight about half an hour ago. Alex wanted to introduce her to some of the people that were attending the event. Leah repeatedly apologized before leaving you, squeezing your hand. ‘’Oh, shit.’’ Alessia mumbled, her blue eyes wide open. You were about to ask her what’s wrong, but you didn’t need to, a finger already pointing at the cause of her reaction.

‘’Babe!’’ You heard a certain blonde scream loudly, arms spread wide open. Your eyes met a happy, tipsy, Leah. Her hair looked messier than when you had left the hotel, and her lip gloss was basically gone at this point. You saw a few guests look your way. Alessia tried to hush her teammate but that resulted in her getting a little shove. ‘’What? I missed my girl.’’ Leah exclaimed, completely ignoring the warnings. ‘’Hey, Lee. There’s no need to scream.’’ You nervously said, becoming a bit uncomfortable because of the attention you were getting. Leah finally sat down and rested her head on your shoulder before nuzzling her face in your neck, leaving a small kiss. ‘’Have I already said how amazing you look tonight?’’ She mumbled, playing with one of the rings on your fingers.

You were a nervous wreck at this point, scared that tonight would be the night your secret would be discovered. ‘’Yes, honey. You did.’’ You answered, giving her a little nudge which made her lean even more into your body. Alessia couldn’t help but laugh at you two, calling over Katie to take care of the situation. And she did. Katie dragged Leah by the hand, leaving the seat next to you empty again. Your girlfriend groaned at the sudden movement, scolding the Irish player for tugging her so hard. To be fair, it was an amusing sight to see.

‘’I love you!’’ Leah basically shouted while pointing at you, leaving your sight for the second time tonight.  She blew you a kiss before disappearing into the crowd, making you hide your face in your hands. ‘’She’s a mess.’’ Alessia sighed, making you nod in agreement. You felt her pat your back sympathetically, ‘’Don’t worry about anyone taking photos of you, we’ll let McCabe handle that.’’ You chuckled, knowing deep down that the Irish woman would manage to erase any evidence of your relationship.

[the--rebel--fae]

ME ME FIRST IM FIRST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X FEM READER WHO LIKE A HOUSEWIFE IN THE HOTEL AND TAKES CARE OF NIFTTY AND CHARLE AS IF THEY WERE HER AND ALASTOR CHILDREN

A/N: You my friend, caught my attention first because of such an adorable response. So ask and ye shall receive! Here's hoping I do Alastor justice.

(This is an adorable request btw)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word count: 745

The Hazbin Bunch

Ever since you came to the Habin Hotel, it felt like everyone was a little family. You were an older demon, having died back in the forties. So you have been in hell for quite some time. 

When you first saw the TV commercial you wanted to see what it was all about. Especially since you heard that your old friend Alastor was involved. You haven’t seen him in years. Seven to be exact. And to know that he was back sent butterflies in your stomach. You never told him, but you always harbored feelings for the eccentric radio host. You never had the guts to tell him though since you feared messing up your friendship.

Little did you know, he had feelings for you as well. Alastor was already intrigued with you when you first met. Just the way you carried yourself and treated others. It was also a plus that you hated that infernal TV just as he did. Plus, you were a great conversationalist and probably the only one who could keep up with him when you had the time to dance.

Soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, and even Sir Pentious became family to you. Almost as if they were your children. 

“Nifty my dear, if you truly want to kill those little bugs I suggest you swing your knife in a diagonal direction instead of a perpendicular. That way, they have less of a chance to escape.” You told the little red-headed cyclops girl as she chased around a few stray roaches.

Nifty paused briefly and looked up at you from your seat at the bar. “Ooh! That’s a great idea! Less chance for them to escape hehe.” She giggled creepily and then started back on her roach hunt. 

You shook your head and smiled fondly at the girl. Then turning back to Husk you regarded him with a warm smile. “Well, since I’m here I mine as well indulge in a small drink. What do you have in mind for me today Husk? I do so love the different drinks you concoct. If you worked at a bar back in my days on Earth, you’d be regarded as an artist.”

Husk chuckled as he started up your drink. “Weren’t you alive durin’ prohibition times though?”

You just waved your hand nonchalantly. “Ah, semantics. Besides, you know what they say. Nothing fun ever comes from following the rules.”

“How right you are Cher! Why if people followed the rules, things would be so terribly boring.” Alastor said as he popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Husk handed you your drink and you smiled as you took a sip. “Oh, hello Al. How was the radio show today?”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and his smile shone brightly. Most people would find it off-putting but you personally loved it. “It went splendidly, my dear! Thank you for asking.”

You were about to say something more, but then Charlie came down the main stairs drawing your attention. “Charlie, my dear! How are you, sweetie? Do you feel any better since the latest meeting with that infernal angel? Ad-what’s his name? The first man, I guess?”

Charlie met your gaze and smiled. “I’m doing a little bit better (y/n), thanks. But you don’t have to worry so much. That meeting was a month ago!’

You just chuckle. “That may be so, but I can tell how stressed you’ve been hun.”

Angel Dust clicks his tongue as he takes a seat beside you. “You know toots, sometimes it seems like you're the mom of this place with how ya act.” He then glanced at Alastor who unbeknownst to you was gazing fondly at you. “An if you're the mother of this joint, that’d make ol smiles here the dad.”

“Haha! You know, that doesn’t sound too bad Ma Cherie. I’d consider myself lucky to be assumed to be your husband.” Alastor said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of commenting, you could only blush furiously. Feeling the heat crawl all the way up to your ears, you tried your best to compose yourself and hide your growing smile behind your glass. Almost hoping that Alastor didn’t catch how much his comment made your long-dead heart soar. But he was no fool, he could see that beautiful smile of yours even as you tried to hide it behind the crystalline glass. 

Perhaps you truly were like a little family after all. 

Hope you enjoyed the story my friend! I gotta say, this was an adorable request. I had a lot of fun with it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several page long one shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[bluewxrld07]

It’s Always Been You (Ethan Edwards)

In honor of gaining 100 of you guys on my page, here it is!! The much needed part 2 to Hurt My Feelings you’ve all been waiting for. I’ve been taking the time to perfect it, but beware this one’s a long one. Thank you all for 100 followers!!!! I appreciate every single one of you, I cannot wait to share more. Enjoy :)

Ethan Edward’s X female!reader

Warning(s): mutual pining, angst, fluff, hints to smut

If there was one thing y/n was good at, it would be known as her future career and major in school. She was in the progress of becoming a sports social media manager, always locking some of the best shots and behind the scenes when necessary.

She was the one the Michigan athletic department could count on. They had put with the Football team during the fall, and Basketball during the winter. She would sometimes end up subbing in for other sports managers when they had other opportunities in place, or just plain out couldn't do the job at hand. She was the one to call.

If there was one thing she absolutely terrible at, it would be avoiding people.

Especially certain people.

The UMich Basketball team didn't go too far into the season which led to y/n's schedule being more open to doing whatever. Which led to her slowly becoming more involved with their University's Hockey team.

When she was asked to help out with the guys more, she was a bit hesitant. Yes she loved them all and adored getting to be behind the scenes. Especially when it came down to her being there instead of one of the other interns down the road. What wasn't great to deal with, was having to see Ethan more often than she was planning on.

Many of the boys on the team know about her current situation of avoiding Ethan. This was due to the word getting around about her and him's night on New Year's, thanks to Luca spilling the beans when Ethan told him.

The boys all knew to keep their mouths shut about it, due to Ethan still being with his girlfriend, as well as y/n already stressing out about having to work alongside Ethan the rest of the season.

For now, it would be put to the side strictly on the business part of things. Yet it was hard to just act like there wasn't a giant elephant in the room when the pair were in a room together. She did her best keeping it strictly professional and positive when he was around. It seemed to slowly get easier as time went on.

That was until the intern quit, opening the spot fully to y/n to take, which she could never say no to. It was opening an opportunity for her to work in the side of the sports media field she has been waiting for, for much too long.

Especially with the boys making it to the Frozen Four.

This 'avoiding Ethan' chapter really was not going to happen for her the way she wanted anymore. Which concluded of her just never seeing him and talking to him again after he left her there that night.

She could never fathom how hurt it made her. Sitting there for hours on end waiting for his door to finally open its him behind it.

She knew deep down that it wouldn't have happened so easily like that, but part of her couldn't help but hope it would turn out for the best for her.

Y/n tried avoiding Ethan as much as she could after that. It was hard to most days, as the pair had a few classes together, and hung out in the same friend group. The guys could never have stopped hanging out with her, it just wasn't right in their book. Ethan even agreed that it wasn't right.

Of course the two were hurting, they had been inseparable for years on end. It hurt more when y/n would be at games watching from afar, or when his mom would shoot her a text or call asking where she was.

That was until she finally caved and told her everything. She couldn't hold it in from the one other woman in her life that treated her like she was her own child. Y/n told her that even though they were going through, well, whatever this was, that Ethan shouldn't be frowned upon for it.

His mom had agreed with her statement, understanding that the pair of complicated best friends had to figure some things out. They both would find their way back to each some day, is similar to something his mom had told her.

So now here she was, coming off the bus in Florida with the boys for the Frozen Four. Her hair was a mess, the outfit being oversized sweatpants, that she was pretty sure were a certain guy's old pair of pants, and an oversized UMich hockey sweatshirt.

The group gathering around the coaches to hear the spiel, y/n walking into the hotel while having a conversation with Rutger. The group all tired and about ready to take the night to relax before more early mornings continue.

Once they were all given their room keys, they all scurried to their floors and rooms, y/n happy to be getting her own room to sprawl out and do what she wanted. Due to this mainly being because she was the only female besides the adult media manager on the trip.

As soon as her door shut she slumped back against the door, leaning her head against it. Being up at two in the morning for the flight was not ideal in her mind, but she knew that this opportunity would be worth the exhaustion she was feeling.

Y/n tossed her stuff on one of the open beds, stretching out her limbs before plopping herself back on the other free bed in the room.

As soon as her body landed on the comfy mattress, a knock was heard at her door. The girl instantly groaned, turning over to the opposite side to face away from the door.

"Y/n I know you're not sleeping yet open the door," Luca laughed on the other side.

"I'm dead." she groans back to him, her eyes closed while she soaked in the cozy covers.

Luca knocked again. "Y/n/n if you don't open this door I will go tell the front desk I lost my room key for this room," he trails off, her eyes opening with an eye roll.

As much as she would like to still have ignored him and say no, she knew he would absolutely go down to the front desk.

She lets out a puff of air before pulling herself off the bed and towards the door. When she swings it open, she makes sure to give him the harshest scowl she can muster.

"What could possibly be more important than sleep?" she asks, eyeing him as he walks into her room and shuts the door.

He launches himself on the bed she was just laying on making himself comfortable, y/n going to crawl in next to him with the scowl still on her face.

He was laying on his back with his arms crossed behind his head, her laying on her side with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

"The guys and I are all going to sneak into one of the clubs tonight if you want to join," he sits up with a finger pointing up. "Correction. You are joining us in going to the club tonight."

Y/n groans instantly, pulling a pillow to her face. "Luca no I want to sleep before the day we have tomorrow." she groans out with a long whine. Luca rolls his eyes at her playfully.

"Oh come on it would be so fun. Besides, this is basically the time we all are going to get to experience this together." He explains, trailing off in a tone to convince her. She shook her head behind the pillow while humming a 'no'.

"Y/n come on please?" he asks nicely, slowly pulling the pillow down from her face. "It's just there inner circle going tonight if that convinces you."

Y/n stays silent for a moment, letting it sit in her brain for the time being.

"If it's not me dragging you out, I'm making Ethan do it."

"You didn't even give me a chance to think Luca!"

"Well I know that face. It was your 'leaning towards a no' face." he says to her, a pillow being thrown at his face a second later.

"So is that a yes?" he asks, y/n getting off the bed with her hands on her hips. She looks back at him with a look. "I don't really have a choice do I," she retorts.

"Nope!" Luca laughs, clapping his hands together before getting off her bed and heading to the door.

"I'll come get you at nine, sunshine." he sings out while opening her door.

"I'm taking a nap before that then!"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Y/n was finishing up her makeup when she heard the soft knock on her door.

She shook her head at herself while she looked in the mirror. She loved the outfit she chose, going with her hair slicked back in a bun. She was awake, but was also still so exhausted from the morning. The nap not doing much to her energy tank.

She opened the door up to see not Luca, but Rutger standing there on his phone. When he looked up he smiled warmly at her, fanning her off and hyping her up for the night ahead. She blew him a playful kiss before the pair walked downstairs to join the rest of the group, her insides freezing at the sight of Ethan once again.

Sure she should be used to seeing him nowadays, but it was never something she could just get used to. He's been the one giving her butterflies since before she could remember, and the one who makes her heart stutter whenever they're in a room together.

From what she noticed, it was the inner circle as Luca promised.

He was currently smiling and talking with Mark when she walked up to the group, his eyes leaving Mark's as soon as Rutger announced their presence.

Ethan's smile immediately dropped, his mouth staying slightly ajar as his eyes took in her figure. She kept her eyes on his own while she watched him fully take her in, the boy's cheeks turning red when he catches her eyes.

He gives her a small smile, y/n instantly looking away from him and taking a deep breath as she followed the group out to the uber ordered by Luca.

The group all began to pile in, but slowly coming to a halt when it started to become full. "Luca you dumbass how're we all gonna fit into this one uber?" Luke asks as he tries to squeeze into the back.

"Couple of you will sit on the floor, and a couple in the trunk. Not that bad of an idea." Luca snorts, taking his seat in the front passenger side.

"Okay at least give y/n the front seat so she doesn't have to squeeze back here or sit on the floor." Rutger says, motioning to where Luca is sitting.

"Yeah, my dude you gotta be a gentlemen and give her the front seat. No wonder you're single." Mark retorts, earning a smack to the thigh from Luca. Y/n rolls her eyes, an amused look on her face as she hops into the small packed van.

"It's fine, I can sit on the floor. Luca's never changed his ways. Who says he will now?" she jokes, earning a whine from Luca and laughs from the guys.

"Watch it young lady, or I'm gonna kick you out." Luca says, making her eyes light up as he eyes her.

"That's all it takes for me to go back up to my warm and cozy bed? Say less," she says, Luca rolling his eyes with a sarcastic smile thrown her way.

"You wish it were that easy." he says before facing back to the front.

Y/n lets out a huff getting ready to sit on the ground behind Luca's seat, only to have arms slither around her waist and be pulled into a lap.

She lets out a shocked squeak and places her hands on the armrest to steady herself as the car takes off, feeling the hands place themselves on her hips with a squeeze. The hands were an oddly familiar pair she had grown to know all too well.

Y/n slowly turned her head and looked down, only to see the familiar head of brown hair she had been avoiding. He wasn't making eye contact with her, instead was looking over and talking to Mark next to him.

The girl kept her hands on her thighs, squeezing them tightly to keep herself together as she sat on Ethan's lap. His hands stayed on her hips, squeezing every so often which made her freeze and her insides warm each time he did so. It had been so long since she was this close to him at all. Her body didn't know how to react, her mind screaming alarms to her in the process of it.

What about his girlfriend?

Couldn't he just let her sit on the floor?

What would his girlfriend say right now?

Once they arrived to the destination, she had never been more relieved to open the door more than she was in that very moment. She hopped off of his lap as if it didn't happen, waiting for the rest of the boys to pop out one by one.

The group made their way up to the entrance, Luca doing some talking to the bouncer while they all talked amongst themselves for the time being.

A few seconds later Luca looked back to the group with a shit-eating grin, the bouncer opening the door to let them all in. Y/n looked up at the bouncer with a soft smile, thanking them for holding the door open as she walked inside.

As soon as she stepped in, the vibe was completely different. Strobe lights being seen from the hallway they walked through, The Weeknd playing in the background and the smell of marijuana wafting through her nose. Y/n kept herself close to the boys as she looked around the venue and overlooking the balcony they were now on, seeing the pile of bodies below on the dance floor.

All the guys immediately making their way down the stairs, hyped up and talking about what their plans were for the night.

Y/n was still super tired from the flight and already thinking about how early she had to be the following morning. More like counting down the hours till her alarm went off. Which wasn't many.

Luca found a couple of sofas for them to all chill on, announcing the first round of drinks were on him. Each guy listing their drink for him, Luca finally finding Y/n's gaze. She shook her head. "Not tonight. Busy day for me tomorrow." She declines, Luca pouting at her.

"ThO come on, have a few drinks and let loose before chaos begins! Technically I win the busy day argument. I play tomorrow, so it's automatic win for me. What're you having y/n/n? Besides I'm buying pretty girl," he asks, watching her roll her eyes and shrugs her shoulders.

"Tequila and sprite." she caves, waving him away as he pumps his fist in the air at her answer.

"He's ridiculous." she laughs at Mark, the boy nodding his head with a chuckle. "Trust me I know. Try being his roommate."

"I basically was for a year, remember?"

Mark rubs his hand over his face and nods. "How could I forget the year in sophomore house?" he trails off, making her shake her head with a sour face.

"Too much went down." Y/n grimaces, Mark bursting out a laugh at her reaction.

Mark's laughs quiet down a few seconds later, him finally turning his body to face her with a more serious look on his face. "So what's the word between you and Eddy now?" he says, her stomach tightening.

"Meaning what?" she asks, looking away from Mark. He snaps his fingers back at her to make her eyes look back into his own.

"Real shit," he says. "What's going on now? You two still not talking?"

Y/n shook her head, her fingers picking at her pants. "I can't Mark. Not after New Years." she admits.

"You mean when you two finally got into it?" he asks, her nodding with an eye roll.

"We shouldn't have done that Mark. He cheated on her with me. You know how I feel about that type of stuff." she admits, watching him purse his lips.

"Sorry sweetheart but one, you kissed him from my understanding. Two, so what? She's a puck bunny anyways, y/n. She wants nothing more than the attention that comes with dating Eddy," Mark admits, and Y/n puts her face in her hands. "Well I should say came with dating Eddy. Past tense." Mark slips out, y/n's hands leaving her face to look at him with a frown.

"What do you mean past tense?" she asks. Mark looks around them to see all the other guys in their own conversations. Then turns his attention back to her.

"The only other people that know is everyone in this club in our group. So don't say anything till he's ready to tell you," Mark starts, her face contorting to more confusion as he goes.

"She broke up with him the day you two saw each other at the library. The day you were leaving with Rut's girl." he explains, watching the girl's face turn from a frown to complete shock in a matter of milliseconds.

"Wait what? There's no way, they were kissing and being all lovey-"

"It was after you left she decided to do it. She saw how he looked at you when you were leaving, and knew right then and there she had no part of him to herself anymore. So she dumped him right then and there." he finishes, watching y/n's face fall as she facepalms.

"Mark that was weeks ago! I'm now just finding this out? Why now?" she stutters out, Mark putting his hands on her arms. He makes her look up at him.

"Because he said you deserved your space, especially after he left you there in his room that night. He said that wasn't something he should just drop on you when you were feeling so many different things."

"Goddammit Ethan." she mumbles out, her eyes looking over the boy her heart wanted so much, watching him laugh with Rutger and Luke.

"You can't tell him I said anything-"

"And I'm back with drinks! Let's get this shit going!" Luca announces out, walking back with two drinks in his own hands, a server next to him with a tray of their drinks to set down.

Luca picks up Y/n's drink, bowing towards her with a smirk. "You're drink m'lady." he says with a fake accent, making her smile at him.

"Why thank you kind sir." she chuckles, taking a sip.

"Alright, now that drinks are ll sorted out, let's go dance dudes! Plenty single ladies, and plenty of dance floor!" Luca hoots, fist-bumping his way into the crowds with the some of the other guys.

She gives Mark a knowing look, indicating she understood what he was going to finishing saying. He reached down and squeezed her hand before disappearing into the crowd.

Y/n was too tired to want to join, not wanting to be there in the first place. She sipped on her drink slowly, her eyes people watching as she sat there, music bumping loudly.

She would much rather be sleeping in her bed. She'd rather be decompressing and charging up for the busy days ahead she knew were going to be horrific.

Y/n let out a huff as she looked into the dancing crowd, seeing and spotting each boy doing their own thing.

Her eyes stopped when they found Ethan's. His eyes were already on her own. Their eyes like magnets to one another. It always felt like things were going so much slower when they locked eyes. Like it was just them in the room.

Y/n bit her lip, shaking her head slightly to herself and finally broke their staring contest. She looked down to her drink, gulping down what she could to help herself feel a bit more loose than she planned.

At this point in the night, she was avoiding his eyes, knowing they were constantly being put on her. She could sense it. Sense him. It was like a sixth sense almost.

During a certain point in the night, y/n made her way over to the bar to get herself another drink.

If she was going to be stuck here, thanks to Luca, she might as well not be sober and enjoy her time while it lasted. A hangover wouldn't be the worst thing for her after the last few weeks she's been dealing with.

She gives the bartender a warm smile, yelling out a 'thank you' over the loud music and turned away from the bar to lean back against it. She took a sip of her third glass of the evening, already feeling the oh so familiar buzz coming on. She let it take over her nervous system, closing her eyes and her head tilting back while blowing out some air.

House of Balloons played out, making y/n smile to herself as she began to sway to the music.

The girl began to sing out the lyrics, knowing the song all too well as it made her feel some type of way every time she heard it. It brought out something in her each time any music like this played, her actions becoming harder to control especially when intoxicated.

Which was where she was at right now.

When she opened her eyes to look at the crowd, biting her lip as she watched many people paired together dancing the night away, grinding bodies are the only thing to be seen on the dance floor.

The lights were dark, flashes of different shades of reds straying out every so often, those flashes being the only lights in the entire place.

As if she could feel it once more, she finally found the familiar eyes that had been finding her figure all night. This time it was making her heart race.

He slowly starts to make his way to her, y/n's heart rate picking up as he got closer.

Before she knew it, he was in front of her standing over her figure.

He reached his hands out to her as if asking her to join him, the girl's eye not leaving his own.

So instead of walking away like she wanted to, after all this time she spent avoiding him.

She gave in.

Y/n sat up straight, her empty glass long forgotten now on the table behind her. She had to still look up at him due to their height difference, but nonetheless had let her hands slide into his own.

He slowly backed his way into the crowd of dancing people, the music setting the vibe and pace for the pair on the floor.

They found a spot away from the other boys, secluded in the crowd surrounded but hundreds of strangers but only entranced in one another. Their eyes never left one another, no matter if they tripped of bumped into other people.

His forehead found her own, his hands still entwined with her own to show he wouldn't push unless she gave him the green light. He wanted to show her he would move at her own pace.

To Y/n, for the first time in weeks, wasn't scared of what would happen or what wouldn't happen. Ethan was taking the lead to show her he was still in it, but at the same time was taking it slow to not push her further.

He closed his eyes as the song played in the background, his mouth starting to sing along to the words.

Face it, you want it, you crave it

Believe when I say that you'll know once you taste it

Y/n watched his lips move, her heart pounding out of her chest as they had their moment. Like they were the only two existing in that room.

She was letting the alcohol take over her nerves, letting it do what she knew she wouldn't be able to do completely sober.

Y/n slipped her hands from Ethan's only to place them over the top of his hands to lead them onto her waist, hers going to slowly slither around his neck.

Ethan opened his eyes to look down into hers, his hands sliding down from her waist, wrapping low around her hips just above where her lower back met her backside.

Y/n took the opportunity to let her hands cup both sides of his jawline, looking up into his eyes then down to his mouth as she sang along to the song this time.

What the hell were we? Tell me we weren't just friends

This doesn't make much sense, but I'm not hurt I'm tense

Cause I'll be fine without you babe

Her eyes found his again, the two wrapped up in one another's company, tension building more by the minute. Y/n bit her bottom lip once again, trying to stop her thoughts from getting bigger and bigger as they sway with one another.

She snapped out of her daze when she felt his thumb slowly pulling her bottom lip free from her teeth, rubbing it slowly after. His eyes went down to her lips as he leaned in, but stopping just millimeters away to let their lips brush ever so slightly.

"Please," he says, his voice weak. Just wanting to finally have her to himself. "It's always been you, y/n. Always."

He put both of his hands on the crook of her neck where it met her jawline, her hands wrapping softly around his wrists. He could see her having an argument with herself, the boy saying her name to catch her attention. "I know I've been a fucking idiot and an asshole to you. You don't deserve any of it. Slap me, punch me, kick me in the nuts I don't care what. Just please don't push me away anymore." Her eyes lock with his once again.

"I won't hurt you," he assures her, shaking his head. "Not again. Not ever. Just please. Let me prove to you. Let me prove it's always been you." he begs her.

Y/n stills for a moment, knowing that she wants this just as bad as he does. Probably even more than he ever would.

"Eddy,"

"Yeah?"

"Kiss me. Please kiss me."

Ethan didn't even let her finish her sentence, immediately placing his lips over hers in a bruising kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing when they connected, immediately y/n sighs into his mouth. Her body calming instantly at the feelings of his lips on her once again after far too long.

It didn't take long for his hands to leave the sides of her face, wrap around her waist and pull her impossibly closer to his own body. Her hands finding the back of his neck, letting her elbows rest on his shoulders while her hands pulled at his hair.

Their lips moving in sync, things becoming more heated the more they kissed.

His lips finally broke from hers only to kiss down her jaw to her neck and collarbone, y/n moving her head to the side for him to gain more access as her hands pushed his head further into her. She was becoming more and more enticed by the feelings of his lips and touch on her, it was like a drug she couldn't escape.

When his lips latched on the all too familiar sweet spot she let out a breathless moan, feeling him chuckle in her neck. He broke his kisses for a second, only to bring his lips to her ear to whisper something.

"Only I will get to ever make you make those sounds. Not Luke, not anybody," he pants into her ear before leaving a soft kiss on it, going back to attacking her soft spot as she bit her lip to hide a smile.

"Still on that whole ordeal are you?" she chuckles but it's turned into another moan when his teeth bite on her neck, his hands moving down to her ass and squeezing at the same time.

"Don't get yourself into more trouble, brat." he tells her, his tone darker than usual. She just nods, taking his head away from her neck to bring his lips back to her own. "As long as you promise to never hurt me again, I think I can manage."

He smiles against her lips, placing a hand on her neck. "I've got lots of making up to do, don't you think pretty?" he mumbles in between kisses, hearing her hum with a nod.

"Let's get out of here shall we?" he says, placing one more kiss to her lips before looking down at her. Ethan had to bite his lip from going back in, seeing the marks littered on her neck and her swollen lips making his pants tighter.

He just about loses it right there when she bites her lip and pulls him closer by his waistband.

"Lead the way, baby."

[tinytennisskirt]

From Pain to Promise

Summary: based on a dialogue request- Art has been in love with you since he met you at twelve. He's been pining for six years, so it kills him when you get a boyfriend over the summer. He's your friend, he's supposed to be happy for you. Instead, he's just hurt. And jealous. Too blinded by it to see the way your boyfriend is really treating you. After a climactic event outside of a party, you're freed from it all. And Art is right there, waiting, the way he's always been.

MAJOR WARNINGS: violence, abusive relationships, mentions of unwanted sex/attempts at unwanted sex. a fight. mentions of injuries, nothing too graphic, just bruises.

Warnings: pining, yearning, angst, jealousy, mentions of drinking, a kiss. badly edited.

Kat Zimmerman had nothing on you, that was for sure. Only a few nights after his little learning experience with Patrick, you came into the boy’s lives and their worlds were forever changed. Art’s more so. It was that one fateful day when you were picking out a tennis racket, the new girl at MRTA, and those two little boys knew they had to befriend you before Jake Dalton did. Both little boys, stumbling over each other, made their way over to the rackets and said hi, overlapping pre-pubescent voices telling you their names. And you smiled, hair braided, cheeks pink and rosy, exchanging their names for yours. 

And you were friends. That’s how it was. You were friends. You, Patrick, and Art. But more so you and Art because Patrick didn’t know how he felt about being friends with girls. Especially when you were such a girl. Patrick didn’t have a painful little boy crush on you the way Art did. You told Art his hair would be perfect for pigtails and he’d let you do what you wanted, clips and bows and all, just so you’d touch him. He bragged to Patrick later that night. Patrick just laughed at him. “She put bows in your hair, dude. That doesn’t count as touching.” He was humbled. 

Patrick did feel a little different when fourteen rolled around and you had boobs, but Art was the same, if not deeper in it for you. You remained their friend. You were always around, playing with Art’s hair on the bleachers or studying with them, making sure they actually paid attention. You went to all of Art’s games and maybe, for a few split seconds, he thought maybe you liked him back. But it’s a tale as old as time. He couldn’t ever be sure, so why would he tell you and potentially ruin everything? If he told you and it wasn’t reciprocated, he could say goodbye to all the casual touching and the things you granted him somewhat platonically. 

Patrick was one of the only people who knew how bad Art had it because even after their first little incident, Patrick had once or twice heard or walked in on Art masturbating and it was a little obvious who he was thinking about. It was fine, it was nothing new. 

One thing was so very clear and that this was all just pining. Pining after you, pulling strings to be closer to you, to hang out with you. Cancelling plans, switching partners, everything. He’d go insane when your hand brushed his, he was there for you every time you needed him. And by twelfth grade, he could say he loved you. It’d been six years of pining, he knew it to be true. So when you called him over the summer to say you had a boyfriend, it just about killed him. 

“He’s really nice and he’s a tennis enjoyer, but not a player. It’s refreshing to find someone who doesn’t know every single term and I get to be the smart one for once,” you gushed to him. He was your best friend after all. You’d been friends, best friends, for six years. Art was glad you managed six years without any real crushes for more than a day and he could handle those because they weren’t real, but this was very real. Or you said so. “God, I can’t believe it, he just asked for my number two weeks ago and now we’ve been together a week. It’s so surreal.” 

“That’s great, I’m happy for you,” Art said through clenched teeth. Six years of wanting you and this guy asked for your number and had you as his girlfriend in under a week. He wondered if you’d kissed him. He remembered when you had your first kiss just after his. Just about killed him though he’d just kissed Amy White two days before and bragged about it. He hoped it would make you jealous, but you had your own beau. This was worse than that. You were going to Stanford with him in a month or two, he thought if there was any time to make that change and tell you, it would be when he saw you next. And there wouldn’t be any college dating scandals and maybe he could live happily and find some girl to forget you with, though he knew he couldn’t.

“So it’s serious?” 

“Very. I’m excited.” Just about took him out. 

He didn’t eat for maybe two days. Would have been longer if Patrick didn’t come over and force-feed him nachos. Art told him the whole situation and Patrick, who had, of course, been rooting for you and Art since finding out Art liked you, was pretty pissed off about it. The two went back and forth just emphasizing ‘six years’. Six years of what? Six years of you hugging him and playing with his hair, going to movies with him, helping him study, spending time with him alone for you to just go and find some guy on a whim? And start dating him? You were all Art had wanted and it was then that he confessed that he was probably in love with you to Patrick. Patrick wasn’t surprised, then went and stole some beers from a friend, saying they needed to drink about it. 

You still called as you usually did and Art never got to really feel himself heal when every phone call was an update and a fresh wound. The poor boy was yours and you weren’t his. There was nothing he could say to change that, he was a good friend. And he wanted you to be happy, so he kept his mouth shut. You talked about dates and how good of a kisser he was though you wished he used less tongue sometimes and every word was a papercut that added up to a bigger hurt. He had never wanted anyone the same way he wanted you and he was so sure he couldn’t. He buried his face in his pillow and got so frustrated it drove him to tears. His stomach hurt constantly and he felt like his heart was being pulled down to his stomach. 

He was a little scared of how he’d act when you talked to him in person. He just finished settling into campus, his dorm room. You’d done the same with the agreement to meet him for coffee at the campus diner. You were still you, he noted, still painfully beautiful. And you were two months into dating this guy Greg. He sounded like a dick. You said he liked country music and he wasn’t going to post-secondary, he was older and going to a trade school. An asshole. Art did his best to change the topic. 

“Mmm, so they have campus events all the time, they’re showing E.T. this Friday if you want to go.” You said. “We should.” 

“We should talk them into playing Mac and Me after. A real movie.” 

“Shut up, oh my god.” You laughed. Your laugh was one of his favourite things. He found it just a little painful to be here with you, knowing you couldn’t be the way you used to be now that you had a boyfriend. “Do you want to come with me to E.T. or not though, I’m terrified of new people.” 

“No, yeah, I’ll go,” he nodded. 

Your boyfriend visited on Thursday, so he didn’t see you then. Usually, you called him regardless of being on the same campus, but you didn’t. And then when you said you’d meet Art on Friday, you didn’t show up until the movie was half over. Art sat there, watching the movie on a stupid lawn chair with stupid Reece's Pieces and you came and joined him, apologetic. Said you were with Greg and Art could only imagine what that meant. It was too dark for him to notice how red your wrist was. 

It was Art’s first step to breaking. The movie finished and he walked you back to your dorm. “Just saying, if you have plans with your boyfriend, don’t make plans with me. I’m not that kind of guy,” he reasoned, heading up the stairs with you. He tried not to sound bitter. He was only half-bitter anyway, he was mostly genuine. 

You sighed, rubbing your left eye just a little. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Does he know about me?” You were quiet. Too quiet. “Y/N?” 

You bite your lip, “He knows we’re friends. He doesn’t know the full extent and he doesn’t need to! There’s nothing to worry about, but I just don’t want to worry him. He knows you’re my friend, he doesn’t know… everything.” 

Art pressed his hand to his forehead, “I’m a secret, that’s crazy, that’s… fine, I guess. I don’t want to ruin anything for you.” 

“You couldn’t.” You told him. “He’s secure. He’s good. And I’m sorry again for being late, I’ll make it up to you with coffee tomorrow if you’ll let me.” 

Art nodded in response. How could he not forgive you? How could you stand here and be so beautiful and so apologetic and have him not forgive you? So he swallowed all his words for the thousandth time. “Coffee sounds good. Bring doughnuts. Campus library?” 

“Campus library…”

“3 pm?” 

“Perfect. See you then.” You kept your sleeve over your wrist which was still pinkened. “I really am sorry, Art.”

He smiled just a little, forced, “It’s okay. I promise. But I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight, Y/N.” 

You said goodnight back and slipped into your dorm room again. Greg had gone out to the local bar, he didn’t come back until 2am when he said he’d be back at 12. Came back drunk and wanting to kiss you quite badly, smelling awfully of whiskey and weed. 

Art wanted to forgive you for it all, but he felt like he couldn’t. Maybe he was bitter. He was bitter that you found someone and he didn’t, he was bitter that you had someone who wasn’t him. He’d yet to meet Greg, but he wondered if you smiled at him with your eyes... or when something funny was said if you'd lean into his shoulder while laughing. He wondered if you were the same, or if it felt the same when you were alone with him- like you could say anything and be unjudged. And that any darkness could be made a joke and made better just by talking for hours. He wondered if Greg had any of that the way he had. But Greg probably had that and more and Art would have to deal with that. He felt his heart physically slow its beating as it slowly, but surely, was beginning to crack. 

You met Art the next day and of course, he noticed the hickey on your neck. It made his stomach do flips and tie itself in knots and he wanted to get up and leave, but you had the doughnuts and coffee. And he was supposed to be happy for you. He had to remind himself of that. He looked at you, the way you tucked your hair behind your ear and laughed and engaged with what he had said and you were still the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Nothing could or ever would change that. He was still head over heels and he couldn’t help it. He would call himself pathetic, he would degrade himself for still wanting you, but after six years, he couldn’t get away from it. 

Greg was over quite a bit. You never called when he was around. You said you’d come hang out when Patrick was in town but you were late again, said you tripped down the stairs and the boys thought it was some excuse for sex with Greg, but you had the injuries to prove it, so neither of them could really be mad. “It hurts like a bitch,” you huffed, sitting down with them. “But it’s fine. We should drink tonight.” 

“Your dorm room or mine?” Art replied, a smile on his face. He was happy about an excuse to drink, he was happy you weren’t late because of Greg, and he was happy you were here. 

Your eyes widened and you answered much too quickly. “Yours.” 

The three of you headed back to Art’s dorm. You lay on his bed, checking your phone every minute or so. It looked like you were getting an abundance of messages, but you were never texting back. Your phone rang twice before you silenced it. The boys chalked it up to Greg and the obsessions of an early relationship, but it wasn’t that early. At one point you tossed your phone off the end of his bed and on top of Art’s laundry. “Please, please, please, pass the vodka,” you enthused. Art and Patrick chuckled, watching you take a pretty large swig. 

“Might want to slow down,” Patrick said, looking at Art, then back at you. You were out of the three of you, the person who hardly ever drank. And here you were chugging it like water. “Don’t want to return you to your boyfriend off your ass.” 

“It’s fine,” you replied. “He’s fine, it’s all fine.” 

“Yeah, I see that,” Patrick replied, taking the vodka back from you. Art grabbed it out of his hand and took a swig equal to yours, trying to drown out the way he was feeling. You were in his bed, talking about your boyfriend. It was fucked. And it felt awful. He looked at you, clouded by alcohol and god, he wished he kissed you in high school. He wished he told you how he felt. If he had, maybe you wouldn’t be so far out of reach. It took him all his strength not to tell you that while drunk. Instead he just laid on the bed next to you, laughing with you about some stupid shit Patrick said. 

“This is why you’re not in college, Pat,” you laughed, out of breath. You had turned on your side, your hand was resting on Art’s upper arm. Patrick just groaned, laughing as he turned his head down to the floor. Art was too aware of your hand on his arm. The way it moved up and down almost the way a person would soothe another, but it was you. And this never meant anything, so why should Art let himself believe it did now? 

“You’re so smart, tell us how good you are with context clues, go-” Patrick teased. But your eyes met the clock on Art’s desk. Your eyes widened a little. You’d lost track of time. 

“Oh my god,” you said, a little bit of panic in your voice. “It’s almost midnight, fuck, I have to go.” You jolted upright and literally climbed over Art to get off his bed. “I’m so sorry, guys, I’ll see you tomorrow, please text me.” You grabbed your phone and your bag and in seconds you were gone. 

Art just shut his eyes and sighed. “I feel that,” Patrick nodded. “What the fuck was that?” 

“Greg beckons,” Art replied bitingly. “Can’t be late to see Greg!” 

“Fucking Greg,” Patrick grunted. “You want the vodka back?” 

“Yes please,” Art groaned, covering his face with his pillow. 

You returned a little tipsy to Greg, who was tipsier. You used to think he was really great. He was funny and nice and he helped you drown out your feelings for Art. It felt like a step forward, progressive, real. Like a real relationship. One you knew you needed so maybe liking Art with no proof he liked you back would be easier. It was for a moment, but bliss is temporary. 

“You’re back, doll,” Greg said, greeting you on messed up bedsheets, not even bothering to meet you halfway. “I’ve had a night. C’mere, I missed you.” You’re afraid to say you’re tired and you just want to sleep. You slink into bed with him. He smells like whiskey again. It’s stronger, more potent, and he needs a shower. The second you’re in bed with him, he’s on top of you. “So why don’t you tell me why you didn’t answer my fucking texts, huh? Or when I called you four fucking times. You know how embarrassing to call your girl and she doesn’t pick up, huh? Had to do that four fucking times in front of my friends, were you trying to embarrass me?” His hand is tight on your arm, leaving bruises, the other hand is on your hair as he keeps himself propped up. It’s pulling and you feel the headache starting. 

“N-no, I’m sorry,” you manage. “Greg, you’re hurting me, you’re pulling my hair.” 

“Thought you liked that?” He smirked. Not once had you ever liked having your hair pulled. Not once had you ever said that to him in any context. 

“You’re hurting me!” You repeated. His hand eased out of your hair but his grip on your arm turned into a grip on your shoulder, just as hard. It hurt. You could feel it bruised already. “Greg, off, please.” 

He made a noise sort of like a whine, his breath horrible. “But I missed you, thought we could have some fun when you came back.” He kissed you. He kissed you. He kissed you. You didn’t want to kiss him, you wanted air, you didn’t want his hand down your waistband. “Don’t fight, pretty, come on. I know you want this.” 

No, you didn’t. You didn’t let it get so far without a fight. You were left to sleep alone as he stormed out. You tended to the injuries from earlier, the ‘stairs’ incident, plus the new injuries you’d have to make stories for because you’d be hanging out with Art and Patrick again. But the bruise that was already forming on your cheekbone looked bad enough that you texted Art saying you couldn’t make it tomorrow and you cried into your knees. 

Makeup didn’t do a very good job, especially when every time something healed, there was something new. You did see Art a few days later when Greg had gone ‘fishing’ with a friend. The bruise on your cheek had faded, but not enough. Makeup hardly fixed it either. “Ball to the face,” you sighed, pressing your lips into a straight line when Art noticed it. He grimaced. “I mean at least my partner has upped her miles per hour but it’s…”

“Ouch,” 

“Yeah,” you chuckled, walking next to him. “So I was thinking maybe we could hang out Tuesday night.” 

He looked at you, “You have something in mind?” As if he could say no. 

“Yes, actually. It’s like an improv show thing, it’ll probably be awful. We can get candy and make fun of them behind their backs.” You smiled just a little. 

He grinned, bowing his head just a little, “Sounds perfect.” 

“Thought so,” you laughed, nudging him a little so he walked off the sidewalk and onto the grass. He tried to nudge you back, but you dodged him and he nearly tripped down the hill you were walking next to. You laughed, but it only laughed so long as his expression turned into the determination to get you back for it. He chased you down the hill until it became a rolling matter, both of you falling into the lush grass and rolling down the last bit of it. He rolled into you, turning it into a chaotic tumble that slowed to a halt with him on top of you. Art breathed out hard, eyes meeting yours, his breath smelling like the mint gum he was chewing. You smiled first with your eyes and then the grin spread up your face. “Ouch,” you mumbled, almost a whisper. His eyes lingered on yours, his face hovering just above you. 

His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips and his brain told him to move, but he didn’t want to. But he had to. You were taken. It would be wrong. But you didn’t move either. You were both breathing hard, smiling at your compromising position until Art did move. Though maybe you didn’t want him to. “You’re okay?” 

“I will be,” you replied. He helped you up and once again, your faces were just inches apart. It was dangerous, wanting you. 

Greg threatened obscene things in the face of if you ever were to leave him. He’d tell your secrets, said he’d end his life, said he’d hurt you. You cried. A lot. For hours, later. He was terrifying. You cried so hard your eyes were completely bloodshot the next day. Your girlfriends were concerned, but you played it off as allergies. 

You saw Art another day and it was good to talk to him about everything and nothing. He was a good distraction from the throbbing pain in your ribs from Greg’s reaction to you mentioning a celebrity crush. He had been drunk. Too drunk. And you couldn’t get away fast enough. 

Tuesday rolled around. You kept your hair down to hide the bruise on your temple. It still ached, along with where your hair was pulled once again when you refused to have sex with Greg again. He was sitting bitter on your bed, angry still. You put on your jean shorts and a t-shirt. “Where you going dressed like that?” 

You looked up, “Like what?” 

“Why the fuck do you instantly talk back? What’s your fucking problem. I’m asking you where you think you’re going dressed like a slut?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed, “Just getting dessert with Bea from my tennis program. She’s got this-” 

“Go change.”

You weren’t looking for a fight. You put on jeans and a sweater. It made you five minutes late to meet Art and you hated it. You looked at Art with sadness in your eyes and he recognized it but didn’t know what it was. “Are you okay?” He knew you. 

“Yeah, can we just… go make fun of bad improv?”

“I brought the gummy worms,” he nodded. You leaned slightly against him as you walked down to the outdoor theatre. You were glad to be out for the evening. Glad to be away from Greg and his anger and his hurtful words and the way he treated you. Art was the calm. He was the safety. He didn’t even know it, but he was what kept you going. If you ever got away from Greg, maybe you’d tell Art how you felt. As the feelings for Greg dissipated, your feelings for Art resurfaced. 

“The clown bit was actually so good,” you laughed, walking back up the steps of the campus theatre. ”Reminded me of what Patrick said the first time we got high.” 

His eyes widened and he swallowed the gummy worm he was eating, “Mm- I was thinking the same thing. It was him for sure.” 

“You think I’d be a good clown?” 

“Mmm, no.” He shook his head. “Your feet aren’t big enough.” 

“And yours are?” 

“One, who said anything about me being a clown and two, big feet are supposed to mean something, right?” 

You laughed, “Shut up, so boyish.” 

His hand brushed your upper arm, just slightly, and you were all too aware of it. In fact, you were all-too aware of how close you walked to him. It was always an unconscious thing. A forever type thing, always walking close, always leaning against each other in the cafeteria lines, always near each other- never near enough. He then nudged your arm again, this time on purpose, so you opened your hand so that he could dump a few more gummy worms in it and you just smiled. It had never, not once, been more apparent that finding someone to replace your feelings for Art was a mistake. Not when this boy, blonde curls and crooked grin was putting a pile of gummy worms in your hand. Wordlessly. Seamlessly. He just got you and the feeling to kiss him right there, right then was overwhelming. And wrong. 

It was wrong. You pressed your lips together for a moment before eating a gummy worm. If your boyfriend was around he’d smack them right out of your hand saying you don’t need more sugar. Maybe that’s why he was so bitter, you thought. Lack of sugar. You tried not to think too hard about the urges Art brought with him. He was so lovely, he was such an escape, and he was only your best friend. It was all he could be. You had no idea he was fighting the very same urge, paying extra attention to the fact he didn’t even have to ask you to open your hand, you just knew. But it was wrong. You had a boyfriend. 

You said goodbye to Art at the entrance to your building, rather than your dorm. If Greg heard you talking out there, you’d be in for something for sure. “Thanks for coming out with me tonight-” you started. “I needed it.” 

Art’s hands slunk into his pocket and he tilted his head just a little, “Yeah, about that. You’re doing okay?” 

“Oh, yeah, my mood lately has been down, it’s nothing big. I’m just extra appreciative of anything that brings it back up.” 

His eyes were understanding and a little apologetic. “If you want we can do something tomorrow? See a movie or play Scrabble or something stupid. We can get takeout? Takeout and going through Patrick’s Facebook and making fun of him.”

That made you grin. You scrunched your nose just a little, “That sounds good! Really good. I’ll call you tomorrow and I’ll let you know. I have to check with Greg.” Of course you did. Greg. Fuck. “But I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Okay,” he nodded. His gaze lingered on your lips. He wished they wouldn’t. He wished his mind wasn’t on who you were going back to after he said goodbye. He walked back to his dorm room in this perpetual state of angst and longing. There was no pain like it. Ever. In any part of his life he’d never known a greater emotional turmoil. You weren’t his. And he loved you, he didn’t even like you, he loved you and he knew it and you didn’t and there was nothing he could do. 

He went back to his dorm and got into bed in his jeans and his shoes, not bothering to turn the light off, not bothering to pull the covers over himself. He just hugged his pillow and thought about you and it and everything until he fell asleep. You didn’t have that luxury. 

“You’re late,” Greg said, sitting on your bed. He’d been smoking in your room, you could smell it. Potent and cheap, assaulting your nose. You’d give anything to walk out and not return, but this room was yours. If you left now, he’d have you back in your room with some threat or worse. “Care to tell me why?” 

“I thought I was home early?” You set your bag down on the chair. “You said 11.” 

“I said 10:30,” he replied. 

“Did you?” 

“Did I stutter?” 

“No. Look, I’m tired, can we just go to bed?” 

“Of course we can, doll,” he smirked a little bit evilly. You sighed, running your hand over the back of your neck. He wanted to fuck you. And you wanted to go to bed. “Come over here.” 

“Greg, I’m tired,” 

“Too tired?” 

“Yes. I’m too tired. I’m just going to wash my face and go to bed.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Greg, that’s uncalled for.” You said, standing your ground, just a little. “I’m just tired.” 

He shook his head, “Yeah? You go out for hours and come back and don’t even want to fuck. Sounds an awful lot like you’re getting your fill somewhere else. Hm?” 

You pressed your hand to your temple, “It means I’m tired, god, Greg, I’m not cheating.” And some voice in your head told you that you wished you were. “Please.” You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door, just in case. You washed your face and changed into your pajamas before getting in bed next to his heavy scent. As he wrapped an arm around your waist you thought maybe you could tune him out, but his hand slipped over your chest, coming to rest with your breast in his hand. You couldn’t pretend anything. He was himself. Even if you wished it was someone else, it wasn’t. 

The next morning, he was gone. Where to? You had no idea. You were just glad. You spent the morning with windows open, cleaning your things, wiping down surfaces and sorting laundry, spraying air freshener. And it dawned on you to call Art. Greg wasn’t around. You hadn’t asked him, but you would make some excuse, maybe. 

“Hey!” You greeted him, laying back on your bed, fresh sheets beneath you. “You still want to get takeout and make fun of Patrick’s facebook?” 

Art walked to the side of the tennis court, his partner yelling at him to make it quick. He smiled, sitting on the bleachers. “Yeah, if you’re up for it. My dorm, around seven? Does that work?” His smile grew to a grin. 

“That works,” you replied, smiling too. “Who is yelling at you right now?” 

“My partner for singles today,” he answered with a chuckle. “He’s telling me to get back on the court.” 

“Doesn’t he know you’re super busy making super important plans?” 

He looked at his partner, frustrated in waiting on the court. “That’s what I’m saying.”

“Right?” You rolled onto your stomach. “I’ll let you get back to him, I’ll see you later, Art.” 

“See you later, Y/N,” he said. You wished he didn’t have to go. You had nothing to do, Greg wasn’t around. Patrick was touring for another week before he came back around here. You decided to go out and meet up with some girlfriends for the afternoon. It was nice to be out and unbothered by having a set time to be home. There was no pressure. Greg didn’t call or text, not once, and it was a strange sort of peace. You talked to your friends about tennis and classes and their current crushes and it was fun and it was good. You retired back to your dorm around six thirty, showered, and did a little makeup. You were just about to leave to meet Art when Greg walked in.

It was like the light was sucked out of the room along with all the air. Or the fresh air. He smelled gross. He tasted worse, kissing you disgustingly. “Hey baby, I missed you,” he slurred. He needed to shave. “Where you headed?” 

“Bea’s,” you replied. “She’s having a movie night.” 

“Stay,” he breathed. “Missed you all day. Need to feel you.” He disgusted you. Hands on your chest with the door not even closed yet from his entry. “Come on, doll. Said no yesterday, can’t say no today.” 

“No.”

“Don’t give me that attitude, come on. I’m being nice.” 

“Greg, I have plans, I’m going to be late,” you tried to laugh it off nervously, but his hand was around your wrist in seconds. “Greg, please. Come on.” 

He narrowed his eyes, “You’re staying. Bea can fucking wait. Don’t your little friends know that I’m more important than them? Jesus christ, the company you keep.” 

You avoided his gaze. His hand slipped down to undo his belt. You debated running. He’d catch you, he was fast. You debated an argument. You didn’t want to fuck him, you didn’t want to have sex with him. He was expecting it more than wanting it. Like all you were was some object, some toy, some possession. His eyes were dark with lust and his words laced with alcohol. You were afraid of him. “Greg, I have to go. I’ll be back around eleven.” 

“You’re not fucking going,” Greg made it known. Flat out. He shut the door behind him. 

“I am. I made the plans, I can’t bail.” 

“For me, yes you fucking can.” He said, pushing you back onto the bed. “Come on, Y/N. You’ll like it soon enough.” 

“No. Greg. I’m serious. I have to go.” 

“You know better than to talk back to me,” he warned. As if you were a dog. Or a child. “You don’t fucking listen? You’re not going out. Cut the attitude before you regret it.” 

“Greg.” 

“What did I fucking say?” He yelled, then dropped his voice. It was nasty, his breath, his tone. “I’m gonna fuck you and you’re gonna like it.” 

“No-” his blow came like lightning through your body. A shock. A volt. And then the sting. “Greg, please-” another. And more. And then he left again. You couldn’t move. You didn’t want to, it hurt. Your ribs ached, your head pulsed. Your lip was bleeding. What could you do but cry and cry and cry? You wanted to call Art, you really did, but you knew if you cried on the phone he’d come over here and with Greg on the loose, it wasn’t a good idea. So you curled up into a ball and cried yourself to sleep. 

Art sat in his dorm room waiting all night for you. Until about 2 am, when he gave up calling and texting and went to bed. You called him the next morning and he didn’t pick up. 

You couldn’t reschedule for any day nearby because of your fat lip and new bruises. Greg came back and apologized like usual, dismissing the purple and blue on your face. His doing. His work. When he was in the bathroom, you called Art again, leaving a quiet voicemail. 

“Art, I’m so sorry about my no-show last night. Something came up and I couldn’t make it and I’m so sorry I didn’t call or text. I feel like such an asshole. But next week, for sure. We’ll do whatever you want, my treat. I want to make it up to you, I feel terrible about this. Please call or text me when you get this. I’m sorry.”

Art gazed over his screen. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Loving you was choking him out and these no-shows and being late and canceling, it was just… too much. You were you and you were everything he could ever want, but you had other priorities, it seemed. He could want you all he wanted, wish for you as often as he could, but you didn’t wish the same. That was all he knew, not knowing the whole truth. Not calling him that night was one of the hardest things to do, but it was for safety. 

You couldn’t even see Art if you wanted to for a few days. Not until the bruises faded enough to be covered by clever concealer. You wanted so desperately to go over to his dorm. You wanted to see your friends. Anything to feel better. Anything to get out of this fucking room, but you called in sick to your classes and worked on the material in your room, completely unable to really exist in the outside world. It was just you and Greg in this tiny little room. And he didn’t stop the aggression. You couldn’t escape it. 

You called Art again when he left for an hour or two to go to the bar. You had stifled your crying, feeling so completely alone, needing to hear his voice. Maybe he’d save you for even a moment. He was the light, he made things better. 

He picked up this time. “Hey.” It was singular, a little quiet. 

“Art, hi,” you said. You weren’t sure why you were so overwhelmed with emotion at his simple greeting. “Did you get my messages? I left a voicemail, god, I’m so sorry for the other night.  We made plans and I made a commitment but I got tangled up. I wanted to call, I’m so sorry I didn’t.” You gushed. “I understand if you’re angry. I know I promised you I wouldn’t do what I did, but you have to believe I didn’t mean to. And I’m really sorry.” 

He was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He wasn’t sure what to say. What you did wasn’t okay, but it was you, so he’d always forgive. “I get it.” But he didn’t. “You have a boyfriend, I can’t expect you to be free all the time. It’s fine.” But it wasn’t. 

“Art, really, I-” 

“I forgive you. Just call me next time? Please.” His words were so easy, it hurt you. “I heard your voicemail, if you still want to make it up to me, I’m free Friday night. There’s a party, Patrick wants to go. You should come with us.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut. A party would be hard to lie about. But it was Art and he was asking and you so desperately wanted to see him that you agreed. You agreed. And the conversation mellowed into something normal. Your usual conversation and banter, slight teases, and warm words. And it felt better. You had plans for Friday and that was that. You wouldn’t let anything or anyone stop you this time. 

Getting ready for the party with Greg around sucked. You did your makeup modestly, you couldn’t look too nice or he’d stop you from leaving. The concealer didn't quite cover the bruise, but your lip had healed over pretty nicely. The dim lighting would be your friend for sure. You put on a long skirt over a mid-length one. You couldn’t be too careful, he once called a skirt slightly above the knee slutty. And you wore a dollar store t-shirt over your black tank top. 

“Where are you going?” Greg asked. 

“Sleepover at Bea’s, remember?” You said. You loved lying to him. It was the best you could get away with. “You said I could go.” 

“Yeah. It’s fine. Talk to you later.” He didn’t make you stay or make you kiss him goodbye, which was a relief. You walked over to Art’s dorm with what felt like pep in your step. You didn’t have to be home at any certain time, you were free to roam, to have fun. Greg wouldn’t know. Greg couldn’t know. Patrick let you into Art’s room. He’d been debriefed on the stunt you pulled, but he couldn’t hold it against you. 

“You look like you’re going to church,” he remarked, looking over your outfit.

 Art peered over from where he sat, “Amish?” 

You chuckled, pulling the shirt off over your head. Both boys were a little taken aback as you tossed the shirt to Art’s laundry. “Not quite.” You undid the button on the side of your skirt and took that off as well, revealing the shorter skirt underneath. You were beautiful, Art thought. He always thought it. But that was because you always were. Wanting you was hard and disruptive and wrong, he reminded himself. But you stood there and everything reminded him of just how fucked he was. Head over heels for a taken girl. Both of them were too distracted to pay attention to the covered-up bruise on your outer thighs. They didn’t pay close enough attention to the multitude of bracelets that covered the bruised fingerprints on your wrist. Your face was another story. Another lie. 

Art’s mouth was just a little open, watching you shed the outer layer of clothes. Patrick tossed you a shooter. “So what’s with the coverup?” 

You thought he meant your makeup over the bruise on your face and you held your breath for a half-second. He meant the clothes. “Oh, Greg wouldn’t like me out in a skirt and tank top.” You tried not to cringe at the words. Were they telling?

“Why does Greg have a say in that?” Patrick replied, leaning forward in his chair just a little. Art looked away, he had to. His face would say something he didn’t want you to know. Patrick was overstepping, he couldn’t bear that either. 

You unscrewed the cap of the shooter, “He’s not… I don’t know. But I don’t give a fuck, I’m going out anyway,” you said, trying to ignore that line of questioning. “I’m in the skirt and the shirt. Thoughts?” You did a little spin. Art couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You were so perfect it hurt. It hurt. 

“Hot.” Patrick nodded. He unscrewed his own shooter, standing and grabbing one to pass to Art. Art pushed past his thoughts and the three of you did a little ‘cheers’, downing the small bottles. You would take hot. Hot was good. Hot was the opposite of how you were feeling. Greg made you feel so gross, it was hard to be anything else. And with staying cooped up in your room, bruised and marinating in the feeling of being ugly- so hot was good. He said what Art was thinking. It was a little less than he thought, but it was a good summary. 

The three of you headed out soon after, drinking on the way. You were leaning on Art as you walked, the three of you laughing at some inside joke. Your laugh was beautiful and rang out in the street. With the soft buzz of alcohol in his head, on his skin, you were an angel. You were always an angel, bathed in streetlight. And your hand was around his bare forearm and boundaries with you were always blurry but this felt odd. He was enjoying it, it was wrong, but he was letting it pass with the excuse of the alcohol. Your hand was so soft on his skin, the perfect temperature, perfect everything. When were you not perfect? 

“Okay so Patrick is set on bringing a girl back- but bringing a girl back where?” You laughed, turning onto one of the little pathways between the rented residencies. 

“I don’t think he’s thought that far ahead,” Art chuckled, nudging Patrick just a little. Patrick raised his hands in surrender, both hands filled with shooters. His pockets were also full. “You were going to say my dorm room, weren’t you?”

“Nasty,” you teased. “Poor Art. He sleeps in that bed, you know.” 

“Uh-huh. You’re one to talk, you’ve always got some form of hickey on your neck, you don’t even try to hide it. Me, nasty? You.” Your hand immediately flew to the side of your neck. “Sit with that one.” 

Art’s heart always fell at the mention of it. Every time, without fail. You moved away from him just slightly at the mention. You would usually have a retort to something like that. But you didn’t. Your hand just stayed on the side of your neck, covering the fingerprint bruises you didn’t know were visible. You pulled your hair over it. “Pass me another shooter, please.” 

Art, sweet, feeling pretty shitty over the way he was viewing you, stayed quiet. Mostly. Until you were just outside the party. Patrick pat him on the shoulder, heading in right away. Art, sweet, stopped you with the extension of his arm. “You’re quiet.” He said. 

“So were you,” you replied. 

“Just wondering if you’re okay?” He said. Posing it as a question. “You’ve seemed upset since we were at mine, I just wanted to know before we go in there and it’s too loud and I get too drunk to ask.” 

“You’ve never been too drunk you ask,” you smiled. You were standing a little bit close to him, your toes inches from touching. “You got soooo drunk at the Miller’s party last year and you still asked me if I was having fun. I wasn’t and we left and you threw up, remember?” 

“I don’t,” he chuckled, eyes soft. But he nodded, “You’re okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m okay. I need more to drink and I want to find Bea and dance. My plans. Your plans?” 

“Drink and save women from Patrick,” he nodded, his grin coming back. 

You, just a little clouded from alcohol, pressed your palm to the side of his face just for a second. “You’re a saint, Art Donaldson.” He felt his skin flush. Your hand slipped away and went down his forearm once again, pulling him into the party. It was natural you let go of him, Art made a beeline for Patrick who was already talking to some girl. She was weird, flirted with Art too once he showed up. 

You needed to lie to Greg more often, you thought, taking a shot from some girl you shared a 3pm class with. Bea’s hands on your hips, dancing together, hands raised over your heads. This was living, this was uncontrolled, unbridled by any abuse, any threat. You could have fun and not feel guilty about it after. Greg had too much trust in a girl he hit. You felt- though you weren’t- free. Just a little bit. 

Art watched you with Bea, watched the way you moved. He was out of it. Just a little. Not too drunk at all. But enough. Numb, watching you. Hard, watching you. He hid a little behind Patrick to hide it, watching your hips sway, watching how close you and your best friend were. He couldn’t have cared less about Bea. Just you. 

He should have told you he liked you in high school. Not saying anything had to be one of the biggest regrets of his entire life. You were perfect for him in every way and you were warm and inviting and you were witty and fun and you knew each other like the backs of your hands and it would have been worth it to tell you. He knew that, looking at you, that it would have been easiest to tell you when he still could. He was bitter about it. A missed chance. Patrick told him he’d regret it and watching you under purple lights, he knew Patrick had been right. It was all bullshit. 

Patrick suddenly grabbed Art’s arm pretty hard, yanking him closer, “That guy over there. That’s Greg, right?” He said, voice low even in the loudness of the party. He gestured over to the guy in the weird sweater and jeans, leaned up against the wall, arm hanging above a short hardly-dressed girl. Faces close. So close. Noses touching kind of close. 

“Oh, fuck,” Art breathed, eyes locked on them, watching Greg’s hand touch just under this girl’s chin. You didn’t know Greg was there, that was apparent. But of course, the dirtbag was. Art’s heart pounded hard in his chest. He looked back at Patrick, whose expression was filled with hatred. As it should be because what the fuck? Regardless of how much he was rooting for Art, always rooting for Art, Greg was still the guy you were with. Your boyfriend. And he was with someone else. 

“I need a reason not to fuck him up right now,” Patrick said. “What the fuck do we do?” 

“I don’t know.” Art answered truthfully. “She doesn’t know he’s here, he doesn’t know she’s here.” 

Patrick shook his head, tongue pressed against the inside of his cheek, visibly pissed off. At least Patrick could be pissed off, Art’s stomach was just in knots. It was almost nonsensical. No way he would cheat on you. You? You were everything, you were gorgeous in all ways and you had a personality. How could he cheat? He looked back over at Greg in a liplock with this other girl and the anger did rise, but his eyes fell back on you and it eased. This was fucked all around. Every bit of this was fucked up. “We have to tell her, we can’t keep it to ourselves.” 

“I agree but how are we going to say it? We’re in a crowd of people, it’s not exactly fun news.” 

“Fucking asshole. I’m pissed. He’s slobbering all over that girl like a fucking dog. You know, I should…”

Art couldn’t keep listening to Patrick’s rant. He didn’t even want to look back at Greg. But Greg was very obviously invested in his cheating schemes. Art wondered how long he’d been doing it to you. How long had this guy been cheating? Did you not satisfy him? How could you not satisfy him, you sported hickeys so often and you were late to meet up and it was all sickening, but it didn’t add up. This guy was the world's most unsatisfied, apparently. It, he, was disgusting. Art felt his face crinkle up just thinking about it, but he had to now. Your feelings were in the balance here. 

“- in the face. Knock his goatee right off. Art. Art, I’m telling her.” 

“Patrick, give me a fucking second,” Art said, holding a hand up. He looked back at you, Bea pouring a shot in your mouth. You were smiling. Grinning. And you were beautiful and he hated the idea that you’d stop soon. Fuck. Neither of you deserved this. Not you, not Art. “We’ll tell her it’s time to go and then we’ll tell her outside, no bullshit.” 

Patrick nodded, “This is bad.” 

“Yeah.” 

“I’m so fucking angry.” 

“I know.” Art’s heart was leaping out of his chest. He held his hand out and Patrick dug in his pocket for a stronger shooter. Art drank it all quickly, letting it burn his throat. His heart didn’t slow even a bit. “Fuck.” 

Patrick leaned over to the girl who he’d just been talking to, saying something about having to leave. Art watched her roll her eyes and walk away. It was fair, she’d been standing there for a bit listening to him trash talk your boyfriend. Art rubbed his eyes, trying to sober up just a little, but after that shooter, it was a little bit pointless. Regret seemed to be a theme around here. “He’s gone.” Patrick said. Art let the fuzz from rubbing his eyes melt and sure enough, Greg wasn’t where he was before. Just a little panicked, he set his eyes on you. There he was, towering over you, rage in his eyes. It was clear to Art what was going through your head, he knew you too well, you were cowering. Patrick was still scanning the crowd for Greg, but Art watched as Greg’s fingers locked onto your upper arm and he yanked you so hard that your shoulder went funny for a second. 

Art, a little shocked, watching him drag you out of sight. And he launched into action. He started into the sea of people dancing, drinking, leaving Patrick behind. Patrick was faced the other way, by the time Art was absorbed into the crowd, it was a little late to find even him. Art pushed through people, trying to keep his sight on you, but he lost you in it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbled. He’d never seen anyone grab anyone the way Greg just grabbed you. It was violent and harsh and the way it happened, it couldn’t have been good in any way. He pushed through people, accidentally pushing a guy as he passed him, the guy went to push back but Art just darted out of the way. He made his way to the door, you weren’t around it, so you had to have left. 

“Art Donaldson, my man,” one of his tennis buddies greeted him, stepped in front of him and Art just stepped around him, trying to find you. You, where were you? His heart rate was raised higher than he’d ever felt it. Rapid, as if he’d run a mile. He ran out onto the street, looking around, but there wasn’t any sight of you. What he would do when he found you, he had no idea, he just knew he needed to find you. Nobody just grabbed someone like that with good intentions. 

Greg wasn’t a good guy and he knew that, he just thought it was his bias. That maybe he was overreacting, but it didn’t look so much that way now. “Greg, please!” You yelled from his left. Art turned his head to see two figures head into one of the thin alleyways between buildings. He could hear a man speaking back to you, Greg, obviously, but his voice was too much of a growl to understand. Art started jogging toward the sound, cautiously. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay, I’m sorry I lied,” you cried out. 

“Little fucking whore. Lie to me to go party with your friends? Dance on some fucking guy, cheat one me? That’s what you wanted?” Art’s heart was about to break his ribs. He ran just a little faster.

“No, fuck, Greg, stop! I was with Bea, I was with Bea!” 

“At a fucking party. If you wanted to be a slut you could have said so. Fucking lying to me, you’re disgusting. Fucking bitch.” 

“Greg!” 

“Don’t even start talking back to me now! You’re a lying, cheating whore who deserves to be treated like one!” 

Art was almost there, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “Greg, don’t fucking touch me. I’m dead serious, I’ll scream. Get off me, get off me you asshole!” 

The sound of the blow made Art’s entire body go cold. He felt himself drain of colour, he felt his heart stop for just a second. It was a sickening noise. The entirety of him tensed up to a point he felt like a coiled spring, his chest tight, ribs pressing in. He hit you, that was the sound of him hitting you, he hit you. Art made it over and came at Greg with a surprising force, shoving him off of you and onto the ground. He was drunk, it was easy to do. Your hand grabbed Art’s upper arm, but missed as Art’s body followed through with the movement. 

“What the fuck?!” Greg exclaimed. You moved behind Art, backward, away. Tears streamed down your face, you were choking on sobs, cradling the side of your face with one hand and your upper arm with the other. Art stepped back with you. He was so angry he himself couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t look at you, he kept his eyes on Greg, breathing hard. Shoving was tame, shoving him off of you was going to have to be enough, Art wasn’t violent. The shock of all this hadn’t settled, it wouldn’t settle. “Who the fuck are you, tough guy?” Greg advanced on Art who was nimble, but between anti-car poles, stuck. Shoved against the wall, he just avoided having his head hit the wall by putting his hand up. 

“Art!” You yelled. “Greg, stop! GREG!” You screamed, you hoped someone would come. You hoped someone would call the cops. 

“Art fucking Donaldson, huh?” Greg smirked, face close to Art’s. “You been fucking my girlfriend? Hm? This the one, Y/N, really? Just friends my ass, you probably came here with him.” 

“Fuck you,” Art seethed. Greg was bigger than him. 

“Get off of him, Greg, I’m begging you, don’t hurt him!” 

Greg fumed, “Used me to get over him, huh? Big-eared, fuckass, twinkie little pretty boy, here?” 

“Shut up!” You yelled. Your head pounded, your skin stung. “Stop. Now. I’ll call the police, I’ll get someone to call the police, Greg, get off of him!” 

Art shoved Greg backward again, but he just walked right back. “I don’t want to fight you.” Art said, his eyes dark. “Fuck off. Leave her alone, fuck off.” 

“He’s playing prince charming, Y/N. You’ve been fucking him on the side. Yeah, that’s why you never put out, you slut. Getting his pathetic skinny boy dick on the side.” Art kneed Greg in the groin, pushing him off again and stepping over to you. “Oh, you’re fucking dead.” His eyes burned with rage and he came at Art with a pouncing force, grabbing him and bringing him down to the ground. You screamed, watching Greg tackle Art to the pavement. The brawl began, Greg holding Art down, trying to punch him but being blocked. Art wasn’t violent, he was avoiding hurting Greg. For you. For your sake. You had no choice, you had to intervene. What was a few more bruises? You tried to push Greg off, but he kept at it, trying to hurt Art. 

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck!” It was Patrick and he dragged you out of this with too much ease, putting you to the side and going right back to push Greg off of Art and onto his back. A bystander behind Patrick had their phone out, calling 911, thank god. You watched in pure shock, Art get punched in the shoulder rather than the head and in a swift blow, Patrick punched Greg in the jaw. And he went limp. You grabbed Art, you grabbed whatever you could on him, his shirt, his opposite shoulder, on your knees. He looked at you with eyes sadder than you’d ever seen them. You moved closer. 

His hand reached up to your face desperately but also gently, despite the adrenaline pumping through his veins. “You’re okay? You’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” you nodded a little too much, looking him over just as he looked you over, noting the way your cheekbone was bleeding. He really hit you. “God, are you okay? I’m so sorry, Art, I’m so sorry.” You were crying a steady stream of tears, lip trembling, and you were still so beautiful. 

“Don’t be sorry, don’t be sorry,” he said, trying to wipe your tears a little more desperately than he had just done. “He hit you, he hurt you, how-” 

“I wanted to tell you. I was scared. I was so scared he’d do something awful. I don’t love him, I don’t want him, I want you. I want you, I’ve wanted you.” You blurted, sobbing just a little more. Art messily moved your hair out of your face. “Art, I-”  You were crying so hard, it was hard to breathe. “I couldn’t leave him.” You looked over at Patrick shaking his hand out, at Greg’s unconscious self. Hands gentle, he turned your head away from it. 

Art’s lips were just a little parted, eyes looking over the damage to your face. “How long has he been?” 

“A long time,” you swallowed hard. “Three months in, maybe two- two and a half.” You said, biting your lip trying to stop crying. “I wanted to leave him. I wanted to so badly, but I couldn’t. He’s- he’s why I didn’t show up those times, I wanted to be there, but he’d… he was… I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for, this isn’t your fault,” he said, bracing you with soft hands. “It’s okay. He’s not getting close to you ever again, Patrick is making sure of that.” 

“He was right about the using him part, I was using him to get over you and it was- wrong. It was wrong and he started hurting me and then it was too late to get out.”

In the heat of the moment, your ‘I want you’s had slipped past him. He wanted to make sure you were okay, he wasn’t focused on that. You were blurting things out, he’d missed it. His eyebrows furrowed, he lowered his head just a bit, “Over me? What do you mean?” His judgment also wasn’t the best. But it didn’t matter. You sat up just a little, still clinging onto his clothes, hands shaking. With Greg out, going to be out of the picture the words just spilled from your mouth. Rolling off your tongue in light of what was soon to be true freedom. 

“I’ve wanted you forever, god, it kills me that I never said anything. It’s you, it’s been you, I don’t know why I thought I could ever try and be with anyone to forget that. It’s just, you’ve never…” 

“What? No, no. I’ve liked you since I met you, we were twelve, it was bad and it’s been you. You never said anything either-” the sound of a cop car approaching interrupted. “You liked me?” 

“Yes! So much. Too much, sometimes. God, I’m so stupid.” You were crying still, even more now. “You just… you never said anything, so I never said anything and then I got stuck, but it never stopped. It’s bad, it’s so bad, I probably love you, it’s awful.” The alcohol was still running the conversation. 

“That is awful,” Art chuckled just a little bit. On the pavement with you, cop car approaching, lights flashing. This conversation would be over in a minute. Your eyes met his, sad, angry, mutual thoughts and mutual expressions. 

“It’s bad?” You smiled just a little through your tears. 

He grinned just a little, “I've been in love with you for as long as I've known what being in love feels like”

Art’s thumb wiped your tears with a little less desperation now. His heart and yours were still beating hard. “That’s so bad, that’s six years,” 

“I know.” He said, grinning his wide crooked grin. The conversation had strayed from the real problem, but it was a good distraction. A welcomed one, in fact. Proof that things could and would be better. “It’s okay. Are you going to be okay?” 

“I’m going to be okay,” you nodded. The policemen, two of them walked over and began their spiel, asking about what happened and Art helped you to your feet. The night was still young, the persecution was easy to figure and a diary you kept detailing his abuse was a great help to the case. You, Patrick, and Art all spent the night at the police station with forms and questions and people trying to get a grasp on the situation. A blurry security camera was also a great amount of help. Greg was charged properly, put away. It was easy to see who was the real problem. You sat with ice to your face in one of the police chairs, being offered therapy and counseling and numbers to call for trauma and crisis. Everyone was so sweet, one of the policewomen held your hand for a good while until it stopped shaking. 

You still cried a lot. Sorry that everyone had to go through this just because you couldn’t leave a guy. Just because you had tried to forget your feelings for Art in someone else. But the words, ‘it’s not your fault’ were thrown around a lot. And that you’d be safe. And it felt good to know. You’d sobered back up, obviously. So did the boys. You had the most extensive questioning, the boys waited in the main room. 

“All the excuses, the ball to the face, the stairs…” Patrick sighed heavily, staring forward into a void. 

“It was him.” Art nodded. “I feel like such an idiot, how the fuck did I not know? I know her better than myself, she hid it and I didn’t want to think about her and Greg. It was… it hurt.” He admit. Patrick looked over at Art. 

“He’s gone. He won’t hurt her again. If he tries, best believe I’m doing more than knocking his ass out. I can’t fucking believe this shit. I’m glad I got off, but jesus fucking christ, I wish I’d done enough to be behind those bars.” 

“No you don’t,” Art sighed, leaning forward into his hands. “Fuck. I didn’t even fight back.” 

“You’re not that kind of guy,” Patrick reasoned. “Which is fine. You got him off her, that was all you needed to do.” 

“I guess, but… fuck.” 

“She told you she wanted you,” He reminded Art with a slight sly smile on his lips. He gave Art a gentle little push off the shoulder. As if Art had been able to stop thinking about it. He’d sobered up just the same and the confession might have been badly timed, but at least it happened. He meant it, he hoped you did too. He was trying not to let it eat him alive alongside the fact your now-ex hit you and he hadn’t known. Maybe he missed the other clues? How did he not know? “She likes you too. It’s all you’ve wanted.” 

“I know,” Art sighed. “After that, though?” 

“Means she’s yours.” 

Art looked up and met Patrick’s eyes, trying to verify if he meant it. As if Patrick was the dictator. But Patrick was only the reality. The gravity of the situation hung above him, but you were in front of him, free from the questioning. Your cheeks were pink and tear-stained still and your eyelashes were still wet. Patrick tipped his head toward you to gesture to Art and the second Art saw you, he was on his feet. His eyes were wide like a doe’s, hands in his pockets. 

He met you halfway down the blue-painted precinct hallways. Your eyes said more than words did as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He pulled you in the rest of the way into a hug that had more sincerity and life than the walls had ever seen. His arms wrapped around your waist, grabbing onto the fabric of your shirt on your sides, holding you tight and close. He kissed your shoulder, his chin resting in your hair. “I’m glad you’re okay.” He mumbled. You shut your eyes for a moment, allowing him to envelop you in his arms. He held you so tight, it felt like he was keeping you from falling to pieces. It would take you a while to get over all of this, but right now, it felt like you’d be okay. 

He was refreshingly cold, the precinct was warm and you’d been upset, so of course you were warm. He held you for a minute or maybe five. Nobody had to use the hallway and anyone who did just went back around. Patrick didn’t watch, instead, he went to the counter to ask about getting a ride back to campus. 

Eventually, you pulled away from the hug. Not entirely, just almost. His arms slid over your back, his grip just loosening, not leaving. In fact you didn’t get very far in pulling away. Your heart beat fast in your chest. Even in the upset, even after the fact, Art was still your peace. He was quiet and he held you as long as you needed him to. He was always there and you knew he would be. With everything that happened just then, with that confession… Your forehead pressed against his. Gentle. Safe. You were safe. You felt safer here, like this, than you did in that room with the officers who asked you so many things. 

You looked at him through your eyelashes. He must have read your mind, he must have known you too well. With a tilt of your heads, your lips met. There was the slightest, softest bit of hesitation, but it was soothed over in seconds, your hand sliding to cup Art’s cheek. He pulled you back in with slow, easy hands that didn’t grab too hard. The kiss was patient, calculated, and warm. It sent what felt like tiny sparks through all of your veins leaving goosebumps in their wake. It felt like completion, like a satisfying end to a movie, like putting a book back on the shelf after reading it. It was easy to kiss him, your heart slowed for the first time as his pace matched yours. However, out of understanding, the kiss wasn’t too long. Maybe a minute, nothing more. 

You’d been through something. He couldn’t be the one to fix all of that, but he’d be there for you until it felt better. Stepping in now felt wrong, felt like it was one thing to another. You needed the time to yourself. Art didn’t kiss you again for another five months. All of which were spent the way they usually were, aside from being a little closer than usual and hanging out so much more. You were free to do as you pleased. Free to see him. Free to stay home- and you spent a good amount of your time alone healing. Physically and mentally. 

Patrick was often around to help you laugh it off, but when you needed to cry, Art was always right there. After some time, you were feeling like yourself again. And you were laughing too much, smiling all the time again, spinning in a new skirt and crashing into Art. Who you then kissed, after so much time thinking about it, replaying it, wanting it again. It was finally okay to do so. After seven years, it was only fitting that he welcomed it, fully, and entirely. You were giggling, your lips pressed to his, and he knew it was okay. There was no bruise on your cheekbone to be cautious of, both of his hands held your face, your head tilted back just a little as he kissed you the way you were meant to be kissed. The way Greg couldn’t. It would never mean so much. 

Greg was in your past, but Art was your past. And your future, now. Because now that you had each other, neither of you was going to let go. He promised you that between kisses. You promised it back. 

taglist: @swetearss @lalalandofive @reallycreativeusername @kaaaiiaaa @ladystardust-thinks @ke4s @ellzbellz18

[tiredfox64]

Hellooo! First of all, I love your fics, especially Tomas's. They are very entertaining and the way you write is just great ^^

This is more of a question than a request, although you can develop it further if you want.

How would the linkuei trio react to a s/o who says "I hate men... except you"

It came to me out of nowhere and I thought it was funny 🙃

There Are Exceptions

Prior notes: Hehehe I throughly enjoyed writing this. Also I forgot to say this with other people’s requests who gave me compliments but thank you so much for liking my writing! (*´∀｀*)

Pairing: Lin Kuei Bros x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: Men

Bi-Han

These dim witted, nitwit goobers who serve your husband are too much to handle. All they know how to do is punch and kick. They have no other survival instincts that can save their asses.

It’s so tiring being the one to try to help them with whatever. A woman can only do so much.

You tried teaching them how to sew only for them to say something stupid like it’s a woman’s hobby. Forget about cooking. You have never seen someone screw up scramble eggs so much that it doesn’t even form. How the fuck does it stay watery? And why are you the only one who knows how to fold clothes? Screw steaming out their wrinkles.

Your last straw today came in the nighttime when one of the clansmen came up to you and ask the most stupidest question you have ever heard.

“Uhm, some of the men were telling me that a woman’s period was when she peels her skin every month. Is that true? Cause if it is you hide it well.” This clueless assassin…oh goodness.

You just stared blankly at the young man. It had to be a joke, right? They can’t be that stupid. Actually, you don’t want to know if they are that stupid. You walked away briskly with one thing on your mind and you had to shout it out. The moment you walk into your bedroom you slammed the door shut and screamed,

“I hate men!”

Bi-Han was already in bed, waiting for you to come around. He stared at you with that grumpy expression he always has before folding his arms in front of his chest. A low grumble was being emitted by him.

How can you say you hate men when you are married to one? One that treats you like the queen you are considered you are the grandmaster’s wife. He is also one who pleasures you till you are fully satisfied. Course, it’s more like you have to go on until he is satisfied.

“…except you.”

“Mhm, that’s right. I should be the exception here. I am the grandmaster, I deserve your full respect.” Bi-Han reminded you of his role as if he doesn’t do so every day.

“And you are also my husband,” you walked up to him and placed a kiss on his forehead, “Now would you mind spooning me for tonight.”

“After that outburst, I am unsure if you deserve it.” Now he’s just being petty.

You pouted as you changed into your sleepwear. If Bi-Han looked for at least five seconds he would have caved. But he looked away immediately to prevent himself from changing his decision. You huffed as you slipped into bed. You went on your side and pretended like you didn’t care. You did because you always lost the idgaf war.

“Please, I love you.” You said over your shoulder.

Bi-Han let out a groan before turning over and wrapping his arms around your waist. Haha you win.

You may not like men but you love this man. You like this man because he’s your man.

Kuai Liang

Why does no one think of the logical answer to something?

You go out to the market all the time so you could help feed the Shirai Ryu. It helps lessen responsibilities for your husband. But even this simple task is made difficult and stupid because of some of the venders. More specifically the men.

You asked for watermelon and they hand you plastic containers with the funkiest bits of watermelon. They are discolored and are definitely past their ripeness. Yet they all tell you it’s fine. It’s not fine! It’s not good quality! Why even cut the watermelon in the first place you can do it yourself!

You want some mangos? Well you can’t fucking have any because they don’t got it. Oh what’s that? A BUNCH OF FUCKING MANGOS RIGHT BEHIND THEM! And they tell you that those are honey mangoes you didn’t specifically ask for those. They told you no because they thought you wanted Haden mangoes. Just give the woman a fucking mango!

You’re so over those male venders. They never even help you pack the carts up.

You’re too tired went you get back to the temple. You let everyone else pack the food away without helping out this time. You can’t be bothered. You take your shoes off, step into the temple, and sigh heavily.

“I hate men.” You groaned.

You didn’t realize Kuai Liang was coming up to you to greet you. You looked up and saw his face. He stared blankly with a bit of concern.

“…except you.”

You wanted to make it right so you ran up to him, giving him many kisses and hugging him.

“What has made you so hateful, my love? Did someone at the market bother you?” He asked with concern.

Kuai Liang was not at all mad at what you said. He found it odd which meant there was something wrong. His hands went up to check if maybe it was something physical. He would hate to find out you were hurt while out. What kind of husband would he be if he can’t protect his wife?

“Many people bothered me at the market today. Some people are unfortunate stupid.” You replied.

“Perhaps you can tell me all about it in bed. I’ll make you some tea to help with the stress.” He took your hands as you both walked to the bedroom.

Kuai Liang is the kind of man you need in your life. If only the men at the market had his intelligence. Though you do like being cared for when there is any sign of distress from you. It makes you feel like a princess.

Tomas

To help train the Earthrealm champions is like trying to train a seal, a kangaroo, a bison, and a Komodo dragon to leap at least a meter out of the water. One will succeed, another will jump but not reach it, another one won’t try to jump, and the other will be too busy trying to mate with you.

They are all nice in their own way but Johnny is the worst of them all. You tell him you are happily married and it’s in one ear and out the other. Just because his marriage failed doesn’t mean yours has to.

Kenshi is alright he just has stubborn. He believes it’s nerves that wins fights. If that were true why does he keep failing to you. And when he is not going against you he’s going after Johnny’s throat. You get it, Johnny won’t give back Sento. But now is not the time to bust his ass.

Kung Lao just gets on everyone’s nerves. You have never seen a bunch of monks ready to implode and strangle someone. Don’t forget that you almost lost your head because he flung his hat in the wrong direction. All you got back was a small ‘sorry’ before he took his hat and ran off.

And Raiden…he’s fine. He’s done no wrong.

Yet no matter what you always have to return and help the fools. You give and give and what do you receive? Hell!

You are exhausted when you return home. You don’t talk to anyone you just go straight to your bedroom. You let out a groan the whole time and when the door closes you let that groan become words.

“I hate men.”

Tomas was already waiting for you in the bedroom. He was walking up to you to hug you until he heard those words. He looked concerned and even a little sad.

Well he’s a man, do you hate him? Did he do something wrong? He hopes he didn’t, he doesn’t want an unhappy wife.

Your attitude immediately went away at the sight of Tomas.

“…except you.”

You ran into his arms and hugged him tight. You could never hate a man like Tomas. He is your husband after all. You picked a good one compared to all the other men that you have seen.

“I’m guessing they upset you again.” He asked.

You nodded. The day is already over you don’t feel like talking about every single stupid thing that they did. Tomas understood and hugged you tight.

“Do you want me to beat them up?” He whispered jokingly in your ear.

For once today you laughed. He always manages to bring a smile to your face. You wish you could let him but that would be a bad decision. Though it’s funny to think about. He was just happy to hear that wonderful laugh of yours. It just shows that he’s a good man to you. He can turn a frown upside down and make you see the good in men. Or at least the good in him.

After notes: Can you tell I got pissed off with Kuai Liang’s part? That shits a little too true. Those instacart tik toks be crazy. Here’s a little experience of when I hated men: one didn’t take no for an answer for YEARS. He still can’t take no even from other girls. But most of the men I know are good. Alright enough yip yap I must march on. Adiós!

[thecommunityfridge]

Building Blocks

CW: Ageplay, diapers, wetting, messing, assisted messing, bondage, light physical peril

"Baby, you know how you've been begging me to let you have a normal night out with your friends? To be a big girl for just one evening?" Greg asked as he walked into Willow's nursery.

Willow's eyes got wide as she started bouncing in excitement on soggy padding of her diaper from her seat in her crib.

"Yeth, Daddy! Me 'member!" the 32-year-old medical technician lisped out from behind her pacifier.

Willow and Greg had been dating for four years now. They had met on an alternative dating site and had been drawn to each other based on their common kinks. Specifically, Greg was a long time Daddy Dom, while Willow had always wanted to be kept and treated as someone's diapered little girl.

Their relationship started out slow, as all relationships do, with their dynamic developing as they began to trust each other. Simple rules, like Willow not being able to use the restroom without Greg's permission, evolved to diapered dates, and, eventually to the full Daddy Dom/Little dynamic Willow and Greg currently had once they moved in together two years ago.

Willow had very few complaints about their relationship. Greg was an excellent Daddy, loving, caring, and usually fair with his rules and punishments. She loved the feel of his gentle touch as he changed her diaper. She loved his soft caress as he fed her a bottle and rocked her to sleep every night. She even loved the hot sting of his paddle when he occasionally spanked her for being bratty. But, she did miss one thing: spending time as an adult outside of work.

In the two years that Willow and Greg had been living together, she had only been able to go out with her friends a handful of times. It wasn't that Greg kept her from going out, but he knew she liked to earn her freedom and was more than willing to make Willow work for her rewards. Once a month, Greg would set up a challenge for Willow to complete to earn a night out with her friends. Unfortunately, Willow was having a much more difficult time meeting these challenges lately.

But today, today was different! It was a new month and a new challenge. Willow was more than ready to rise to the occasion and earn her time out partying with her friends, free of Greg's oversight.

Willow's enthusiastic bouncing slowed as she saw a predatory grin bloom on her Daddy's face. She could tell from that grin alone, this month's challenge was going to be difficult.

"What a good memory you have, my Little Lolo! You're such a cute little smarty pants!" Greg said as he approached her crib and opened it's side. "But, do your remember what you need to do if you really want big girl time?" Greg asked.

Willow blushed as she lisped her response, "Earns it, Dada?"

"That's right, baby girl! You're right again! Big girl time is EARNED in this house. I was thinking today would be a great day to let you earn it!"

Greg lifted his small, adult girlfriend out of her crib and carried her over to the nearby changing table as he spoke.

"First, let's get you a dry bottom though!"

Willow squirmed on the changing table as her boyfriend unsnapped her onesie, undid the tapes of her soaked diaper, and began wiping her clean. Despite Greg having done this hundreds if not thousands of times before, it always felt just a little bit more humiliating when he changed her while she was trying to earn her way to big girl time.

After wiping Willow clean, removing her wet diaper, and sliding a clean one underneath her cute little tushy, Greg grabbed a suspicious white bottle as he spoke again. "To earn big girl time this month, Little Lolo, I was thinking you could prove to me how good you are at holding your potty while you complete a big girl task!" Greg then unscrewed the child proof top of the bottle he was holding, grabbed a large pill out, and dipped it in a jar of Vaseline. Willow's eyes went wide with understanding as Greg's hand them moved for her exposed backside.

"Dada! No! Me good girl! Me make stinkies! No need special medicine!" Willow frantically yelled out, spitting her pacifier out to be more clear as she hoped beyond hope that she could stop Greg short of shoving the dreaded suppository in her.

Greg's predatory grin grew wider at his girlfriend's hurried protests. "Oh, Baby Lolo, this isn't to help you make stinkies! It's to help prove you can hold your stinkies in like a big girl."

Willow gasped as Greg slid the large, lube covered pill inside of her.

"Now hold it," Greg said, giving his girlfriend a stern look as he waited to see if she would try and push it back out. Willow didn't respond audibly. Instead, she complied, clenching her bottom to hold in the awful medicine.

After a few moments without any noticable activity from Willow's rear end, Greg let a smile touch his lips again. "Good girl, Lolo! You might earn your big girl time yet."

Willow felt a blush bloom across her face at those words as Greg finished taping her into a fresh diaper. Thankfully, Willow thought, Greg ignored her blushiness as he lifted her off of the changing table and carried her on his hip to their living room. What she saw there, she wasn't expecting.

Sitting in the center of their well decorated living room were three huge plastic tubs full of multi-colored wooden blocks. The blocks were of various shapes and sizes, and, while none of them were huge, they were definitely large enough to keep a baby or other small child from choking on them. In fact, while it was hard to tell for certain from Willow's vantage point, she could swear a large number of the blocks looked chewed on. Willow's stomach churned a little looking at the tubs of baby blocks, although she couldn't say whether it was out of fear of her pending test or the laxative working it's magic in her bowels.

"Um, Daddy, what dohs tings?" Willow asked as she reflexively started sucking her thumb out of nervousness.

"Isn't it obvious, baby girl? Those are building blocks! Their the next part of your challenge!" Greg said as he set Willow down on her feet next to the childish blocks. He then, strangely, grabbed a tape measure off of a nearby end table. "Stand big and tall for me, Little Lolo!"

Not knowing the game yet and not wanting to fail before even learning the rules, Willow did as she was told. She stood up as tall as possible, even getting on her tip-toes a little bit to increase her height. Greg wasn't going to cheat her out of her adult time for being too short!

Greg smiled as he read off the final number, "5'3 3/8"! Baby, is it just me or have you grown?"

Willow smiled. She'd measured a whole inch taller than she had at her last trip to the doctor's office. She was amazed at Daddy letting her get away with so blatantly extending her height.

"Alright, not-so-Little Lolo, are you ready for your big girl challenge?" Greg asked.

Willow responded by nodding her head up and down enthusiastically, once again nearly vibrating with excitement. She did choose to ignore another angry rumble from her stomach as her Daddy laid out of the rules of the game that could earn Willow her temporary freedom.

"Well, Little One, you can see the blocks. You also know about the special tummy medicine Daddy gave you," Greg began. "Today's challenge is one of building, creativity, and self control. I want you to use your new blocks there to create a *giant* tower that's even bigger than you!"

Willow internally groaned. That's why Greg hadn't cared that she had cheated. She had only made her job more difficult. However, that didn't matter. Willow wasn't an architectural genius, but even she could create a tower of wooden blocks taller than 5' 3 3/8"! Willow's stomach grumbled ominously again.

"Of course, just building a tall tower wouldn't prove that you're a big girl though," Greg said as he walked over and pulled open the drawer of an end table. "Any cute little baby could do that! No, there are some extra restrictions. First, you probably already guessed it, but you need to finish your tower before you create a poo-poo Picasso in your cute little diapy."

Willow audibly groaned this time. She'd be lying if she said she didn't expect the bowel movement time limit, it was one of Greg's favorite elements in these challenges, but she could already feel herself struggling to keep her padded pants clean.

"But, that would be too easy too, and you wouldn't enjoy your adult time if you didn't *really* have to work for it, right?" Willow's Daddy continued, causing Willow to nervously swallow as she looked at the item in his hands. "While you are *trying* to prove that you are a big girl, you aren't one yet. You're still a baby. And babies don't stand and walk: They crawl."

Willow's eyes went wide as Greg unfurled the hobble restraints in his clutches.

"This will make sure you stay on all fours! Don't worry, I'll lift our normal rules and let you climb on the furniture. Now, get down on all fours so I can get this on you, and you can get started!"

Willow complied with her Daddy's orders, knowing from experience that there was no point in protesting. If she wanted any chance of a girl's night out free of diapers and Greg's supervision, she would have to follow his rules. Instead of dwelling on the unfairness of it all, she focused on the best way to quickly create her toy block masterpiece.

"All done! Now get to work! Your tummy timer stops for no one!" Greg said, sending the crawling Willow off with a playful swat on her padded rump.

Willow immediately made as fast of a b-line for the tubs as possible, drastically slowed down by the restraints tying her wrists to each other and her ankles. Once at the tubs, Willow quickly switched from all fours, to a seated position. She grabbed one tub with both hands and scooted it, as well as her diapered bottom, across the floor and as close to the sturdy coffee table nearby as possible before dumping the tub over, spilling it's contents on the ground. She then repeated the process two more times before finally settling in to begin building her tower.

Slowly and carefully, Willow began laying blocks out to build the base of her tower. Knowing the importance of a strong base, the first foot of her tower was made with large blocks stacked together to be as sturdy as possible.

As Willow continued to work on her tower, the suppository her Daddy slipped into her continued to work on her insides. By the time her tower was a foot and a half tall, the grumbling in her stomach was beginning to turn to light cramping. Undeterred, Willow forged ahead, ignoring her discomfort and determined to earn the night out she craved.

Willow's tower continued to grow steadily as the minutes ticked by. A foot and a half was soon two feet. Two feet became two and a half feet. Before she knew it, Willow was halfway there, despite having to make some yoga-like maneuvers to stack the blocks higher due to the hobble tied to each of her limbs and the growing discomfort in her bowels.

Two and a half feet proved to be a tricky height. At that point, Willow found that no matter how she positioned her body, she just couldn't quite reach the top of the tower from her position on the ground. Willow was not going to let that stop her. She had planned for this.

With sweat beading on her forehead from the strain of keeping her rear-end in check, Willow began moving as many block as possible from the floor to the coffee table. Then, as delicately as possible, she climbed onto the coffee table herself in her forced, crawling posture. For a moment, as she awkwardly pulled her right knee up on to the table, Willow almost lost her battle with her bowels due to the strange position, but, thankfully, found herself able to power through the discomfort.

Once safely on the table, Willow began diligently stacking the blocks higher and higher again. Two and a half feet became three then three and a half, and then four. However, with each new block stacked, Willow found her task becoming more and more difficult.

The cramping in her stomach was becoming nearly unbearable. All Willow really wanted to do was release a brown, stinky mess into the back of her diaper and end this torment. Making matters worse, as the tower got higher, it became more and more difficult to place new blocks with her hobbles still restricting her every movement. Sweat was dripping down every part of Willow's body as she took a break at the four and a half foot mark to sit back and admire her building block masterpiece.

"Little Lolo! Your tower looks wonderful! I'm so proud of you! Have you made a stinky yet?" Came Greg's voice from behind her. Before Willow could deny having messed herself, she felt the waistband of her diaper being pulled back behind her. "Nope! Still clean! Good girl! Maybe you *will* earn some big girl time this month!"

A blush radiated up Willow's body at being talked down to and checked like a baby, but, another, more severe cramp rocked her body, letting her know she didn't have much time to finish her creation. With renewed vigor, she crawled back to work.

Her tower was now too tall to reach the top of even from her crouched position on the coffee table. Looking around the room for something she could use to crawl higher, Willow's eyes fell on the couch's cushions. Carefully, and ignoring her boyfriend's giggles at her awkward crawl, Willow grabbed the cushions off the couch and stacked them on the coffee table before climbing on top of them herself and extending her reach.

Willow ignored Greg's giggles again as, when she reached the top of her impromptu scaffolding, a loud fart trumpeted from her backside.

"Careful my cute, little architect! I wouldn't want your pretty little tushy to blast you off your little ladder!" Greg said, stepping closer to better position himself in case his girlfriend did actually fall from her wobbly perch.

Willow glared back at Greg before turning back to her construction project. She appreciated him keeping her safe, but could do without the unnecessary commentary.

Despite the wobbly and precarious nature of her couch-cushion perch, Willow quickly found that her method to get higher was working. Before long her tower was five feet tall, just a few blocks away from completion. Unfortunately for Willow though, the cramps she had been fighting all morning had intensified to the point where she knew she was only moments away from disaster. Worse, Willow once again found that she couldn't easily reach the top of the tower to place new blocks.

Knowing that she didn't have time to increase the height of her scaffolding, Willow threw caution to the wind. Grabbing her last two blocks, she did her best to balance on her bent legs on top of the highest couch cushion like a bird, with the hobble still restricting her movement. As quickly and delicately as she could, she started to lean forward into her tower as she attempted to place her last two blocks.

Noting the danger inherent in his girlfriend's desperate maneuver, Greg's daddy instincts kicked in and he quickly repositioned himself on the opposite side of Willow's impressive tower to catch her if she fell. Willow, too focused to be aware of her Daddy's repositioning, reached up and out as far as she could, desperately trying to finish her tower without falling or knocking it over.

However, just as the tip of the first block reached the top of her tower, Willow's body finally overcame her. A painful pressure in Willow's gut forced her to bend at the waist.

Already on the edge of disaster, the sudden movement immediately caused the diapered woman to lose her balance and fall forward directly into her nearly finished tower. The pain, sudden movement, surprise, and fear all worked against Willow, causing her to release her aching bowels into her diaper as she tumbled forward. Like the her falling blocks, Willow could feel her hope of getting a night out this month cascade to the floor with her.

Willow closed her eyes as the ground drew closer. In the short few moments as she fell, she hoped and prayed that her padded and messy backside would protect her in a way that she couldn't with her tied up hands and feet when she hit the ground.

Luckily for Willow, Greg was ready for her unfortunate and literal fall from grace. Leaping into action just as his love lost her balance, he lunged forward and caught his precious baby girl before she hit the floor. Willow opened her eyes as she felt Greg's strong arms wrap around her, protecting her from landing on the large pile of blocks that were once her tower, lying on the floor beneath them.

"Daddy?" Willow said hesitantly as she gazed up at Greg with doe eyes.

"Uh huh, Little Lolo. Daddy's got you. Daddy will always have you!" Greg said as he pulled Willow closer into his chest. He then wrinkled his nose as he noticed a noxious smell in the air. Looking from the ground and back to the woman in his arms, he spoke again, "Well, it smells like somebody didn't earn her big girl time. That's alright, we'll try again next month. Now, why don't we go get you changed before we clean up this mess."

Willow snuggled into Greg's chest as he cradled her like an actual baby in his arms and carried her back to her nursery. Willow was upset that she had lost her girl's night out this month, but, as Greg held her, she couldn't help but think that maybe another night at home with Daddy wouldn't be so bad either.

[sweetbans29]

Playbook - CC

Pairing: Caitlin Clark x Reader

Summary: You never thought your dad would be your wingman (based on THIS request)

Warnings: vague descriptions to keep this as open as possible

Word Count: 3k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: Again, doesn't follow everything to a T but the overall theme is there!

The Hawkeyes were in for a treat when Coach told them they would have a special guest in practice. It was never disclosed who would be the special guest but the team was buzzing with ideas of who it could be in the two weeks leading up to their arrival. They were naming everyone under the sun, from WNBA players to NBA players - even highly regarded coaches. Sky was the limit when it came to who the special guest could be.

This wasn't the first time the coaching staff at Iowa had used their connections to bring in some big-name athlete or coach to rain them for a day or a week. It was something they had started Caitlin's sophomore year and had happened a few times since. It became a season tradition even if her coaches wouldn't say it was. She has been coached by Candace Parker and Lisa Leslie. They even got Steven Kerr of the Golden State Warriors to Iowa for a week during which the guys team joined them for practices. It was a crazy week but one of Caitlin's most memorable (there was something about outshooting some of the guys that Caitlin would never forget).

So when the day rolled around for the appearance, the team knew it was another big name when the guy's team pulled up for the second time in a row. Coach Bluder walked up and greeted their coach as the men's team came over.

"Any ideas of who it is this year?" One of the guys asks Kate and she just shrugs.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Kate responds.

Caitlin has a love-hate relationship with the men's team, and by love-hate it is more of a major indifference towards them. It had all stemmed from her dating the coach's son, who also happened to be on the team at the time. The relationship consumed her whole junior year, only coming to an end when he graduated. It wasn't mutual at the time and it took Caitlin a while to get over it but nevertheless, she did. The guys that are still currently on the team naturally had to choose their former teammates' side but if you were to pull them aside one by one and ask their opinion, each of them would say Cait didn't deserve what had happened. Kate would know because that is exactly what she did.

All of the athletes are told to sit down in the first few rows of the bleachers. Once everyone is seated, the doors open to the gym and none other than last year's NBA MVP walks in. Every single head turns and the murmurs begin. Most of the teams sit there with their jaws dropped.

Caitlin leans over and begins to shake Kate's arm.

The coaches introduce the guest and before they all know it, they are on the floor running drills. Typically there is a divide between the men's team and the women's team but that went out the window when the guest took the liberty to group everyone to his liking.

They are only a half hour in and both teams are dying.

You are at the hotel, reading when you get a call from your dad. It wasn't one you were expecting considering you knew his schedule was packed.

"Hey dad," you say refusing to put your book down.

"Hey baby girl, do you see my playbook anywhere?" He asks.

Your head tears away from your book as you look around the room. You get to the desk where your dad was working last night and see the book sitting on the desk.

"It's right where you left it," you say getting up from the bed and grabbing it. "Do you need me to bring it by?"

"That would be great, I'll send Jeff to swing by and grab you. If you don't mind hanging out, we can go out to dinner when I am done here," he says knowing the only thing on your agenda for the day was reading.

"Sure, sounds good," you say and begin packing your bag. "I'll see you in a few."

You hang up and grab your book alongside your dad's. Jeff is there in no time. He has the front desk call up to your room and you are on your way. Jeff has been your dad's driver for about 10 years now. He was more than a driver in your eyes and would often go out of his way to make sure you were taken care of. Whenever your family would travel, Jeff would join. Neither you nor your dad would have it any other way.

"Jeffery," you say and give him a nod. He says your full name back to you, eliciting a smile.

The school your dad was coaching at was only a 15-minute drive. When you arrive you make your way into the gym and begin the search for your dad. Once you find the court, you walk into a group of sweaty athletes all looking like they just played a full game but you know it was just your dad's footwork clinic.

You make your way up to him as he is watching the next group go through his course. Standing a few feet back, you watch as a group struggles to get every step. Your dad tells them to break and you make your way to him as the athletes grab water.

"Here you are, one playbook," you say and tap his shoulder with it.

"Ahhh, thank you, baby," he says and takes it.

"I am starting to think you leave this on purpose, what is this like the third time you have had me come to a practice?" You say tasing your old man.

He shrugs. "Isn't it better getting out of the hotel room?"

"And into a gym?" You counter.

"Hey, I just want to spend more time with you," he says and you roll your eyes. You know he is missing with you but grab your book and take a seat.

What you didn't know was the amount of eyes that followed you. Since you walked through the door there had been at least 4 sets of eyes that followed your every movement, one of them being Caitlin's.

"If you stare any harder, you'll burn holes through the girl," Kate says.

Caitlin doesn't care. She knew that your dad had a daughter but all the pictures that she had seen were from when you were a kid. She had no idea you had grown up.

"Caitlin," Kate says, waving her hand in front of Caitlin's face. "Earth to Caitlin."

"She's beautiful," Caitlin says as she watches you take a seat and pull out a book.

"Well get in line," Kate says and nods her head over to about 3 other groups of guys all looking your direction. Caitlin feels her heart deflate at the sight and throws herself back into the drills.

The teams are now going through shooting drills and you can't help but look over and watch. Your eyes are drawn to one of your favorite college players.

You don't know why it didn't occur to you that you would see her considering you were at her school. You just didn't put two and two together but glad you glanced up. Your book falls to your lap as your eyes are now glued to the shooting drill. You have been watching Caitlin for the last year now and have been mesmerized by her game..

Practice comes to an end, sooner than you would like to admit, but are thankful considering your stomach decided to become vocal about its emptiness. You walked down to where your dad was on the floor and waited a few feet away but close enough to make your presence known.

"Ya, we will be at your upcoming game this weekend," your dad says and nods over to you. He parts ways with the players and makes his way to you.

"Ready?" He asks and you nod.

The two of you head to dinner. The following few days, your dad continues to head to the team's practices and you hear all about them. You were really looking forward to going to the women's game and even got yourself a jersey to wear.

You head to Hawkeye-Carver with your dad and take your seats court-side. Cameras find your dad immediately and you ignore their presence. The teams head out and are warming up for the last time before starters are announced and the game begins.

You watch intently and cheer for the starters, the jersey you're wearing supporting the starting guard.

As the teams go to greet each other right before tip-off, Kate pulls Caitlin.

"Looks like somebody is a fan," Kate whispers to Caitlin. Caitlin's eyes follow where Kate is looking and sees you sitting courtside. It takes her a second to get a closer look but when she does she notices the number 22 on the front of the jersey you are wearing.

A stupid smile finds its way to Caitlin's face and Kate elbows the girl.

"Don't mess this up," Kate jokes and Caitlin pushes her.

The game tips off and Caitlin is on fire. She is flirting with a triple-double by half-time. It has made for a very fun game to watch. The second half continues the same way as Caitlin gets her triple-double in the third quarter. By the end of the fourth, there was no question that the win was going to the Hawkeyes.

A handful of the team makes their way to talk to your dad while you look for the star of the game. You see her walk over and make your way towards her.

"Hi," you say with a sweet smile, which is returned.

"Hi," Caitlin says, doing everything in her power to not expose her nervousness.

"You played great," you say and you swear you see a little blush creep its way to Caitlin's cheeks. "Would you sign my jersey?"

Caitlin nods and you pass her a Sharpie.

She begins signing the back of the jersey you are wearing when you speak again.

"You have very pretty eyes," you say as you feel her writing on the back of you.

"Ya?" Caitlin asks and begins to feel pretty good about herself.

"Ya, couldn't help but notice them with how much you have been staring at me," you say causing Caitlin to mess up her signature.

Her whole face turns red as you make it known that you have caught her not-so-subtle glances and at the fact that she has now messed up the jersey you are wearing.

Caitlin stutters and doesn't know what to do. The panic in her wants her to flee but that would just add to her embarrassment. Cait doesn't get embarrassed easily but here you are making her feel like a fool.

You turn back around to face her and when she looks into your eyes she begins to feel grounded again.

"I owe you a jersey," she says with a shy smile. You give her a questioning look. Caitlin has two options, come up with some elaborate lie and try to convince you that you moved causing her to mess up or she could tell you the truth. She chose the latter not wanting the foundation of your meeting to build on a lie.

"Your comment about my staring took me off guard and I may have messed up my signature," she says quietly but her eyes don't leave yours. If you thought she had pretty eyes, yours were stunning. She could look into them forever.

You give her a smile and are pleased with the effect you have on the superstar.

"It's now one of a kind," you say turning an embarrassing moment for Caitlin into one that she will never forget. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"I feel bad," Caitlin says. "Let me make it up to you."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" You ask, taking a little step closer to her. It was getting hard to hear with everyone else around you.

"Well, how long are you in town for?" She asks.

"We leave on Sunday," you say, today currently being Friday.

"I can show you around the city tomorrow, how does that sound?" Caitlin asks, hoping you don't already have plans.

"Hmmm, I'll have to think about it," you say in a teasing tone. Caitlin's smile drops a little. You give her shoulder a little nudge. "I'm just messing with your C, I would love to see the city with you."

Her smile returns but falls shortly after when she hears your next remark.

"You'll just have to ask my dad," you say and you can see all the color drain from her face. You know you were just messing with the girl but knew her intentions were pure when Caitlin walked straight up to your dad and started a conversation. You could tell when Cait finally worked up the courage to ask him, he looked over at you, making quick eye contact and you gave him a little nod. He looks at you a little longer, longer than he had with anyone previously. There is a glint in his eye that you haven't seen before and you give him a confused look. He leans over to Caitlin and says something only she can hear, prompting her to respond. They both smile at one another and you release the breath you didn't realize you were holding. Caitlin walks back up to you with a smile you would look at forever.

"I'll pick you up at 10," she says, bringing her arm around you for a hug. She holds you longer than either of you expect but neither of you is complaining. When she finally lets you go, you lean up and give her a little peck on the cheek and head towards your dad.

Weeks passed and the team noticed a shift in their teammate's mood. Kate was the first to notice and noticed it almost immediately when it happened. It took Caitlin a whole 5 minutes after she got back from spending the day with you before telling Kate everything. So it comes as no surprise when the team brings up Caitlin's shift.

"Someone has been chipper these last few weeks," Jada says to Caitlin.

Caitlin tries to hide the shy smile and shrugs.

"Ya, it's almost as if there is something...or someone who has impacted your mood," Kate says, in no way being discrete.

Caitlin stares hard at her best friend.

"Ya CC, you have been on your phone more than usual," Gabby says wiggling her eyebrows.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, I am just looking forward to the week we have off," Caitlin says dismissively and continues on with practice. She liked having you all to herself considering neither of you have officially labeled what you are. The two of you coined it as getting to know each other.

After Caitlin showed you around her college town, you were headed back home with your dad. Ever since you had left, you had been messaging or Facetiming Cait nonstop, not that she would have it any other way.

It got to the point where you invited her to your family's trip to Cancun for spring break which she gladly said yes to. She was only able to go a few days but it was better than nothing.

The two of you spent every second of the trip together as she got to know your family. They all loved her, especially your dad.

The trip comes to an end faster than either of you want it to and before you know it you are back at the airport dropping her off to head back to Iowa.

The second Caitlin lands, her phone is blowing up - more so than usual. She looks through the notifications to see about a hundred or so are from the team's group chat. Opening the messages, she realizes that the cat is out of the bag and they know she was with you and your family on vacation. They all go off on her, in the sweetest way.

Caitlin opened the photo she was tagged in on your story only to realize it was a photo your dad posted. She swipes through them, landing on the group photo that was taken at dinner one night. She can't help but smile at the photo. Caitlin was sitting with you on her lap, her arms wrapped around your waist while you held a plate of food. Little does the world know that the plate of food was hers and you were tasked with feeding her since you didn't want to leave her lap.

Never in a million years would Cait have imagined herself vacationing on the beautiful beaches of Cancun with her favorite NBA player, let alone falling in love with his daughter. But there she was, smiling like a fool while looking at the photos from her time with you and her heart settled. It rested in knowing that you held it. Unlike her past relationships that seemed to always spark anxiety, yours was one that brought her peace.

She opens her messages, bypassing the team chat, and taps on your name. She types out a quick message about landing safe and sends it your way. As she makes her way back to her apartment, she doesn't feel the ache in her chest that she felt when she had to let you go in the airport or when her plane took off knowing she was leaving you behind. She is filled with the peace of her settled heart, knowing that wherever the two of you are - you belong to one another.

AN: Ugh, the thought of a tropical vacation with our favorite girl is mind-consuming right now. Let me know what you think and if I am alone in that thought. And as always, thank you for the love and support 🤍

[sniigura-archive]

imagine that somehow adam runs into judas or lucifer, and since adam is alone standing there (he is waiting for his family) they make fun of adam thinking that his relationship with reader in college didnt work "ha!, that bitch couldnt stand youre lazy ass, i knew it" and before adam could tell them to fuck off, reader appears with all of their 8 kids that go to hug him and judas or lucifer has the most WTF face ever and adam is SOO smirking while pics one of his kids in one arm and holds reader waist with the other. This encounter fills up his ego so much worse

that inspired me to write this. it’s like roughly 5/6 years post college graduation

cw/tw: pregnancy, children

Even though it was close to dinner and bed time for the children, the sun was still mercilessly beating down on Adam. He stood under the shade of a tree, his bag laid by the tree trunk.

The boys were on the playground, while you and Eden were at the restroom right now.

„No way! Adam, is that you?“ A familiar voice called out.

Adam turned around, Judas and Lucifer were really the last people he expected to see. Great.

„ 'Sup?“ He tried to sound as casual as possible.

„Adam, my old friend, what are you up to these days?“ Lucifer asked him, taking a good look at Adam. Since Lucifer and Lilith have been completely cut off, it must be hard for them to keep tap on him.

„Eh, you know. Have been here and there.“ The last thing he wanted was to share any personal details with the demons.

Judas smirked, which was a bad sign, „You here to pick up chicks? Lots of hot single moms around.“

Ah. His wedding ring was getting cleaned right now.

„You speaking from experience?“ Adam asked him back with a raised brow.

„Sure, buddy.“ The way Adam wanted to punch Judas for calling him buddy, „It sucks being single, don’t you agree?“

Why can’t they ask if he’s still banging you like normal people?

„Daddy! Do we really have to go home now?“ The 4 year old, curly headed girl asked him while running up to Adam.

Adam immediately went to bend down, picking up his first born. He gently pushed the hair out of her little face, smiling at her. Her hair was neatly put into french braids.

„Sweetheart, when your Mommy says we have to go home it’s time to go home.“ The girl pouted at Adam’s answer, resting her head against Adam’s shoulder.

She sighed heavily and mumbled out a detached Okay. The way Lucifers and Judas mouths fell open wasn’t missed by Adam.

„The children are too quick for me now. Being outrun by toddlers is really embarrassing.“ Lucifer and Judas whipped their heads back to look at you.

Your sundress hugged every curve perfectly, while your hands rested below your very pregnant belly. You’ve perfected the waddle at this point. Brushing past Judas and Lucifer, you let Adam wrap his arm around you to give your forehead a kiss.

„You remember Lucifer and Judas, right?“ Adam said to you.

You bit your lip at that, stifling your laughter, „How’s it going guys?“

„They’re here to pick up hot single moms.“ Adam told you with laughter.

You sided eyed both of the men, while they fumbled for words.

„It’s not like that!“

„Adam is just messing around…“

The silence was painful. Adam enjoyed it tho. You shifted around on your feet, while Adam went to rub a hand over your stomach.

„…How is the family life treating you both?“ Judas asked, his eyes focused on your stomach.

„It’s good. Nothing is more satisfying.“ Adam told them.

Eden started to squirm around in Adam’s arms.

„Can we gooOooo?“ She whined, rubbing her eyes.

You and Adam nervously exchanged a look. She was close to a tantrum, since it was getting late and she was tired and hungry.

„Boys! Let’s get going!“ Adam called out to the playground.

„There are more…“ Judas mumbled under his breath.

„Lili and I are also trying for a child right now! How long did it take you guys to convince?“ Lucifer tried to keep the chat going. He couldn’t come home without information for his own wife.

„We…never really tried?“ You nervously said.

The twin boys kept digging in the sand, not a care in the world.

„I fucking swear they have selective hearing.“ Adam grumbled out.

Putting your index and thumb together, you placed them under your tongue to let out a loud whistle sound. The boys whipped their heads to you immediately and started running towards you immediately. Even Eden turned around to look at you.

„Good boys! Thank you for listening! It’s time to go home now.“ You ruffled the twins heads.

„Aww. Really?“

„Mama, five more minutes?“

„No. Get going.“ You pushed them towards the way to the car.

The boys immediately started running again, pushing each other while screeching. Eden whined some more, and Adam let her down. She immediately forced her way in between her brothers, easily out running and pushing them.

„Let’s go. I’m pretty sure I have to pee again.“ You groaned, wrapping your arm around Adam’s. Pressing your cheek against Adam’s arm you looked up to him.

„Yeah, we also need to get those little terrorists into bed. It was..Sure fucking something seeing you chumps again.“

And with that you and Adam went after your children.

[dira333]

Not needed - Itoshi Rin x Soulmate! Reader

Requested by the lovely anon who sent in many amazing Requests (You know how you are) - tagging @shoulmate because she's been begging me to write something for Rin

“Oh, is that your soulmark?” Bachira leans in, far too close for comfort. 

Rin pulls his shirt down and takes a step back. “Why do you care?”

“Well, duh?!” Bachira tries to pull the fabric back up, but Rin’s hand’s close around his like a vice. “It’s none of your business.”

“Whatever?” Bachira grins and steps back as far as he can, pulling his hands back as soon as Rin’s grip loosens. “I’m sure I will catch it some other day.”

Rin scowls but Bachira just laughs. Looks like a normal Tuesday after all.

-

Isagi hasn’t found his soulmate yet. Bachira’s pretty sure his is the cute girl from his neighbourhood. Reo keeps talking about his even though everyone’s tired of it already - his parents found her right after he was born and made sure she got the best education possible, after all, she was going to be his wife one day.

No one seems to care that Rin’s going to kill them any second if they don’t stop bringing up this topic. Who cares about Soulmates? They’re here to play soccer!

“I don’t need one!” He snaps at Chigiri when the guy has the audacity to point out something about his soulmark. “If I ever happen to meet them, I’ll make sure to let her know.”

-

“Oh no-” Rin hears just seconds before he gets drenched in something ice cold and sticky. Isagi’s sitting across from him, hands pressed against his mouth to keep the laughter in. Bachira has less control over it, his laugh bellowing out and pulling all the attention. Great. Just what he needed on this short break from training.

He turns, ready to rip the head of whoever is responsible - but the words die in his mouth.

You look like you’re ready to cry, wringing a single napkin in your shaking fingers. “I-I- I’m so sorry, I just wanted some… That was my last-”

Somewhere in between your stuttering, he catches on that you’d had a horrible day and this should have been the thing to make it even, a little treat for all the suffering. But said treat is sticking to his skin, turning his previously white shirt an ugly shade of brown.

“Come on,” he barks, moving to pull you away from the guys but stopping at the last second. He can’t just drag a girl around, especially one he doesn’t know. His parents raised him better than that. “Follow me.” 

Somewhere on the short trek to the front, you must have mistaken his grimace for an inviting smile, because you haven’t stopped talking, telling him everything he could have wanted to know about the week you’ve had. 

“Order,” he barks out, softening his tone when your eyes turn wide. “Please.”

Your order is impressively long. He’s only ever ordered black coffee. No wonder his shirt feels this sticky. When it’s time to pay, you turn and blink up at him.

“I spent my last money on that drink,” you point out, nibbling on your lower lip - it’s a little distracting. 

“Fine,” he huffs and pays. 

It’s only when he’s back at his table that he realizes that this went totally wrong. Weren’t you supposed to pay for his drink? As an apology for drenching him in coffee? But he can’t very well get up again, not when Bachira’s pointing out how cute you were and Isagi’s snickering every few minutes. If he’d be here with less perceptive people, he’d dare to turn his head just a little, to look over to the corner of the café where he knows you went. But he isn’t and so he doesn’t.

-

“Oh God!” The words are muttered, but Rin still hears them, curses his good hearing when the words are followed by a shrill squeak only seconds before you tumble down the stairs - and right into his arms.

If he were anyone else, he’d probably admire you - unable to walk down a flight of stairs yet sticking the landing perfectly, arms flung around his shoulders like you’re from one of the movies his mom loves to watch.

“Hi!” You squeak when he lets you down right away, hands burning from where he’d held you. At least no one saw. 

-

Rin doesn’t know how it happened or what’s more surprising about it, but he finds himself in a friendship group that contains not only him but you too. He might have gotten it wrong in his head, but he’s pretty sure you knew Chigiri from before Blue Lock. Or was it Kunigami? He’s never too sure with these two.

Maybe he’s being too poetic about it, has been too influenced by his mother's taste in movies, but you remind him of the sun, warm light flooding every room you step into. He dares to tell you once, embarrassment clamping his mouth shut when your response is a shy smile and wide eyes. Never, never will he tell you that he feels like the moon in your orbit - yes, he knows the moon orbits the earth, it’s a metaphor! - only able to light up the night because he’s been in your presence.

You’re too clumsy for your own good, too good-hearted for being friends with rascals like these. You never catch it when Bachira nudges you into helping him out, don’t realize when Nagi uses you as a headrest or a means to get from one place to the other. More than once Rin has to step in, teeth bared when Chigiri grins and asks “Are you her bodyguard or what?”

-

“Do you have a soulmate?” Isagi asks one day after training when all of them are draped across the tables in the little café down the street, their muscles resembling cooked noodles more than anything.

“Of course!” You smile and wave your straw around, almost taking out Kunigami’s left eye in the process. “Why are you asking? You already saw!”

Rin tenses. He can feel it before it happens, how his spine stiffens and his back turns ram-rod-straight. He forgot. He forgot that those still existed. Isagi throws him a smile that could mean everything and nothing at all. Rin pushes himself up from the table, grumbling something under his breath that could mean “I have to use the toilet,” as well as “I’m going to run the world.” 

He’s en route to the barista when he realizes that he’s left his wallet back at the table. He does the only reasonable thing and walks out of the café.

The cool air lifts some of the tension and the fact that he’s out of sight of his friends - if he can call them that - helps as well. Here, where he can feel like he’s almost alone, he can think.

Not that he wants to think.

Thinking just leads to realizations. Like the fact that you’re not his. That he’d want you to be his. That the stepping stones turned into something he could almost call friends. 

“Rin?” Your voice pulls him out of the moment. You pull the door close behind you, shiver in the cool air. “You forgot your wallet.” 

“Thank you.”

You smile. “It isn’t like you to forget something. Am I finally influencing you?”

“Like you could,” he huffs, but your smile only widens.

“Bachira told me that you’re probably upset because you’re the only one who hasn’t seen my Soulmark yet.”

“I’m not-” He starts but stops when you roll up your sleeve. His mouth’s dry and the words die on his tongue.

There, in the crook of your elbow, is the same mark that sits right above his hip bone. 

Rin can’t help but think of his own words, his own vows. 

He doesn’t need a soulmate. Just like friends, they’re nothing but a hassle, a weight holding him down. Or so he thought.

You blink up at him and he wonders if you know what’s going on inside of his head. 

“Do you wanna get something to eat?” He hears himself ask, his hand reaching out for yours. Your skin is warm under his touch. You take his hand like you’ve never done anything else.

“Are you paying?” You ask, smile doing that little quirk he’s grown to look for.

“What?” He asks back. “Are you offering?”

You giggle, shaking your head. He knows you too well. 

When you pull him forward, he doesn’t hesitate. 

He might not need you, but he sure as hell wants you by his side.

[lucysarah-c]

Not sure if this is like, allowed to be answered and feel free not to of course. But reaction to Levi finding out someone tried to assault his s/o, or just hurting them in general like a more targeted instance rather than a battle, even before they are partners and could just be friends, you think more of a quick death or Levi would get sorta sadistic?

Have a great one 🐞 and thanks for always feeding us amazing works

Hi dear! Ah, no one has called me "bug" in years!!! Haha, thank you—that was so sweet of you!

Don’t thank me! Thank you for reading and stopping by my blog.

I really like this ask… Maybe because I’ve had a similar scenario in mind for my fic, but I just can't seem to find the right approach to it. I’ll try my best here! I’m 100% a "violence doesn’t solve anything" kind of person, and even when someone is truly horrible, I can't stand seeing them get hurt, especially physically. I’m that "sensitive" type, sorry haha. I feel Levi would say something similar to what my mother always tells me: "Don’t try to be more Catholic than the Pope" (a saying we have in Argentina, meaning "Don’t be too nice because people will take advantage of you. Be a little bit tough when necessary").

So, I’ll be completely honest with you: No, this ask doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But I do believe that Levi would resort to violence in certain situations. Levi killed a couple of guys just because they messed with Isabel’s hair. If his special someone (be it a friend, girlfriend, etc.) got hurt or was assaulted, Levi wouldn’t wait to see if she filed a report or went to the police.

He would simply stare at her and demand, "Who was it? Do you know them? Can you identify them?"

If it happened recently and she still shows signs of the struggle, she might try to downplay it. "It’s over now… It doesn’t hurt that much—"

"I didn’t ask if it hurt or if it was over. I asked who did it," he’d reply firmly.

She might avoid giving straight answers, trying to brush it off, perhaps out of shock, embarrassment, or fear—fear for Levi and the trouble he might get into. "I already filed a report and—"

"Have you ever seen any of those bastards behind bars because of a report?" Levi would counter. "Who was it? Give me a name."

"I pressed charges—"

"I’m sorry to break it to you, but men aren’t scared of charges. They know they can get away with it. They know they have friends who will bail them out, who will erase the charges, who will stand up for them," Levi explained. "Do you know what the only thing those assholes fear is? Being treated and beaten down the way they treat others. Beasts like them only understand their own language."

If the person responsible is someone Levi can’t directly deal with, like a higher-ranking officer or an MP, he’d still find a way to make them pay. He’d beat them up so thoroughly and probably in public to humiliate them. Levi knows the military can't afford to lose him, so while he might not be able to kill them, he’d ensure they couldn't sit straight for a long time. The most sadistic I can imagine him being is if he beats them so badly that they end up begging for mercy. And then Levi, lifting them by their hair, would say, "Don’t beg me—beg her."

Now, if the perpetrator is a regular citizen… they’re dead without a second chance. I can’t see Levi being sadistic in the sense of torturing someone, but he wouldn’t give them a quick death either.

So, that’s it. I hope I managed to write this well enough!

Thank you so much!

Have a lovely day.

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