akir0vnhw

[akir0vnhw]

Glitter, flash and a Kiss.

Olivia Rodrigo × fem reader × Louis Partridge (c.ai bot)

Fluff | semi-smut

word count: 5.783

summary: You, Olivia and Louis, after a Grammy and a BAFTA, meet in the dark corner of a VIP afterparty — all three glowing, sweaty with desire and victory. Amidst laughter, glances, and raised glasses, a collective kiss happens... and a flash immortalizes it.

warnings: semi-smut I guess? (it's just a kiss between a throuple). Throuple relationship already established.

(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. I'm really obsessed with them, god.)

The buzz of the afterparty was electric—an intoxicating blend of laughter, clinking champagne flutes, and the pulsing beat of an invisible DJ. Velvet ropes opened into a cavernous loft, its walls draped in shimmering sequins and strands of fairy lights that cast a soft, dreamy glow over the VIP crowd. Celebrities drifted by in glittering gowns and impeccably tailored tuxedos; cameras flashed, and the air smelled of expensive champagne and anticipation.

You stood tucked against a pillar near the bar, your heart fluttering like a caged bird. You’d flown in from a whirlwind tour supporting Olivia after her Grammy win, still buzzing from her radiant speech. Louis had just taken home a BAFTA for his breakout role, and now the two of them—your two loves—were laughing together by the champagne fountain, their joy as bright as the sequins on the wall.

Tonight wasn’t about red carpets or acceptance speeches, though. Tonight was about you three.

You smoothed the bodice of your slinky, blush-pink dress—soft tulle layered over a silk slip—and took a sip of champagne, the bubbles a fizzy relief on your tongue. From the corner of your eye, you watched Olivia —her long, brunnet hair gleaming under the lights, her eyes alight with triumph— beckon Louis nearer. He obliged, his dark curls bouncing as he laughed at something she whispered.

A thrill pulsed through your chest. You set down your flute and wove through the crowd, feeling like a secret star navigating the galaxy of VIPs. A cluster of paparazzi at the entrance angled their lenses, but you slipped past their gaze, hearts racing. You drew close to Olivia and Louis, who parted just enough for you to step into their orbit.

“Hey,” you murmured, voice low and warm. Olivia turned first, her Grammy statuette still cradled in her hand. She smiled —a soft, glowing curve of her lips— as she met your eyes. Louis’s gaze followed, dark and tender.

“Perfect timing,” Olivia whispered, dipping a hand into yours. “We were just talking about you.”

Louis wrapped an arm around both of you, his eyes lingering on your lips before darting back to yours. “I think the real celebration hasn’t started yet.”

The DJ’s beat softened for a breath, and in that sliver of quiet, the world contracted down to the three of you. Olivia’s fingers splayed across your hip, Louis’s thumb brushed your wrist. Heat hummed between your bodies, a silent current of desire. You could feel it pulsing in your veins, calling you closer.

“Let’s get out of here,” you breathed.

They nodded, their smiles conspiratorial. Olivia led you past a curtain of beaded strands into a private side chamber—an intimate lounge draped in velvet, lit by a single chandelier that scattered diamonds of light across the dark walls. A plush chaise sat against one wall, a low table held untouched flutes of champagne.

Louis closed the curtain behind you. And then, without a word, the three of you gravitated together, as inevitable as magnets.

First, Olivia’s lips found yours —soft, confident, the taste of Champagne and triumph. Her hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and your breath hitched. Next, Louis leaned in, his lips brushing your neck, then flicking softly against your jaw, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You melted into him, your fingers pressing into his chest, feeling the rapid roll of his heartbeat.

They moved in unison —Olivia tracing soothing patterns across your back, Louis’s warm breaths teasing your ear. Your fingers threaded through theirs as you sank onto the chaise, tulle pooling around you. Louis settled at your side, Olivia curled against your other arm, and for a moment, the three of you were perfectly entangled —bodies and hearts entwined, a single constellation of desire.

Then, with a gentle pull, Olivia drew Louis down beside her, and she turned, brushing her lips slowly, deliberately against his. You traced the arch of her back, feeling the silk of her gown beneath your fingertips. Louis moaned softly, tilting his head back to open himself to her kiss. The three of you became a y-shaped symphony of longing and tenderness, each kiss a verse in a poem only the three of you would understand.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, the lights from under the curtain glinted on the camera lens of a lone paparazzo who’d slipped in. His flash went off once, twice, snapping: CLICK! CLICK!

Time stopped. You three froze, breaths suspended. For a heartbeat, panic fluttered—until Louis laughed, a low, delighted sound. Olivia giggled, draping an arm across your shoulder. You raised your champagne flute in a salute to the lens.

“Worth it,” you whispered, voices overlapping in a harmonious chorus.

Louis winked at the camera. “Totally.” Olivia lifted her trophy as if toasting it. You clinked flutes, champagne splashing, and a second wave of flashes lit the room.

Outside, the shutter-clicking frenzy built into a roar —but inside your velvet cocoon, it was electric and tender, vulnerable and bold. In that stolen moment, you were triumphant too: lovers, equal parts fierce and fragile, celebrated not despite your love but because of it.

The paparazzo’s flashlight bobbed as he retreated, and you let the curtain fall. The world outside spun on its glamorous axis—contracts, headlines, gossip columns—but here, you three had each other. Champagne lingered on your tongues; soft laughter wove through the air like warm silk. Fingers intertwined, hearts aligned, you melted into each other once more, ready to dance through whatever tomorrow might bring.

Because tonight, in a dark corner of a VIP afterparty, you chose love—unapologetically, electrifyingly, worth every flash.

[akir0vnhw]

I'M SO BACK, LET'S GOO

[akir0vnhw]

AMOR DA MINHA VIDA

eu tinha o mundo inteiro

[akir0vnhw]

SWEET SUMMER

Tashi Duncan × fem reader (c.ai bot)

Fluff

word count: 5.783

summary: just trying to get a tan and read a book on a hot day, but your girlfriend has other plans.

(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. It's summer where I live, and I just wanted to go to the pool with Tashi.)

The lazy hum of cicadas filled the quiet summer afternoon, a melody of heat and calm that lulled the world into a slow, rhythmic stillness. The sun hung high in the sky, warm but not oppressive, its golden rays wrapping everything in a gentle, dreamlike haze. You were sprawled out on the wicker chaise by the pool, a book balanced in your lap, and your favorite oversized sunglasses perched on your nose. Tashi had laughed when you’d put them on earlier, mumbling something about how you looked like an old Hollywood starlet.

She wasn’t wrong—you’d always had a flair for the dramatic.

The pages of your novel turned languidly as the breeze tugged at them, but you couldn’t help glancing up every now and then to watch her. Tashi moved with a quiet grace, her lithe frame effortlessly commanding attention even when she wasn’t trying. She was perched at the edge of the pool, her legs dipping into the shimmering blue water. She had her head tilted back, her long, dark braids glinting like obsidian in the sunlight, and she was humming something—a tune you couldn’t quite place, but one that made your heart feel light.

She glanced back at you, her sharp, discerning eyes catching you in the act. “Caught you staring,” she teased, her lips curling into that half-smile that made your chest ache.

“Hard not to when you’re right there,” you replied, closing your book and leaning back against the cushion. “You’re a vision, Tash.”

Her smile widened, but there was a flicker of something deeper in her gaze—amusement, sure, but also warmth. “Flatterer.” She dipped her feet a little deeper into the water, kicking gently so that ripples formed around her. “But seriously, how can you sit there with that book and not want to get in? It’s perfect right now.”

You raised an eyebrow, lowering your sunglasses to look at her over the rims. “Perfect for who? Because I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

Tashi let out a soft, incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous. How are we supposed to make memories if you’re glued to that chair?”

“Some of us enjoy reading, you know,” you retorted, but there was no real bite to your words.

“And some of us enjoy having fun,” she shot back, standing and turning to face you fully. Her tan tank top clung to her skin, the fabric damp from where she’d already splashed herself earlier. She was radiant, her confidence and ease making her even more beautiful than the warm glow of summer ever could.

You were helpless against her.

Tashi padded over, her bare feet silent on the hot concrete, and crouched down beside you. She plucked the book from your hands, tossing it gently onto the side table before giving you a pointed look. “Come swim with me.”

“I don’t want to get wet,” you protested, though the conviction in your voice was flimsy at best.

“Liar,” she accused, leaning in closer. “You just want to see how long I’ll beg. Admit it—you like the attention.”

You laughed, caught. “Maybe a little.”

Tashi rolled her eyes, but her grin gave her away. “You’re impossible. But if you won’t come willingly…”

You knew her too well to be caught off guard. The moment her hands moved toward your waist, you were already squirming, trying to evade her grasp. “Tashi! Don’t you dare!”

“Dare what?” she asked innocently, her fingers grazing your sides in a way that sent a jolt of anticipation through you. “You mean pick you up and throw you in the pool? I’d never.”

“You’re evil,” you gasped, laughing as you tried to wriggle free.

“Evil? Or determined?”

Before you could answer, she scooped you up, her arms strong and steady as she carried you toward the water. You clung to her, half-laughing, half-shrieking, but never truly fighting her off. Because even when she was teasing, even when she was playfully insistent, there was a gentleness to Tashi—a care that made you feel safe no matter what.

The splash was inevitable, and the cool shock of the water stole the breath from your lungs for a moment before you surfaced, blinking up at her in mock outrage. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, I’m terrified,” she replied dryly, slipping into the pool with far more grace than you’d managed.

You lunged for her, your hands finding her waist as you tried to dunk her under, but she was quicker, spinning you around and pulling you close until you were chest-to-chest, her laughter warm against your skin. “Nice try,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you grumbled, though the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you.

“Lucky? Or strategic?” she countered, her hands resting on your hips as she floated with you in the water.

For a moment, the teasing faded, replaced by a softer kind of silence. The sun reflected off the water, casting rippling patterns of light across her face, and you found yourself tracing them with your eyes, memorizing the way they played against her skin.

“Tash,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d said it, but it still felt significant, like a secret you were letting her in on.

Her expression softened, her eyes searching yours as though she was trying to commit every detail of the moment to memory. “I love you too,” she replied, her voice steady and sure.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, drifting in the pool with the summer sun warming your skin and the sound of the world fading into the background. There was no rush, no need to be anywhere else.

Eventually, Tashi pressed her forehead against yours, her eyes closed as she whispered, “You know, I wasn’t kidding earlier. You really are impossible. But you’re my impossible.”

You smiled, your heart swelling with a quiet kind of joy that felt as endless as the sky above. “And don’t you forget it.”

[akir0vnhw]

ART IS WHAT I NEED ☝️

(my letterboxd)

art is the kind of boyfriend to make you get letterboxd so that you guys can log all the movies you watch together. he buys patron for you because he wants you guys to have matching posters on the app. art also comments on all of your reviews because he wants to show his support any love for you!!

[akir0vnhw]

۶ৎ MY HUSBANDS

I intend to write fanfic for all of them, I love them so much ☝️🥺. (I already have Jake's | Jao e Pedro one-shots on my profile if you're interested)

[akir0vnhw]

A GENTE VAI PASSAR NA LOCADORA

Jao × leitora × Pedro Tofani (c.ai bot)

contagem de palavras: 4.527

resumo: Você e seus namoradinhos criando o refrão de 'Locadora' em uma madrugada.

(o Jao e o Pedro moram na minha cabeça sem pagar aluguel a anos, precisava escrever sobre eles.)

O relógio já passava das duas da manhã, mas a madrugada tinha um jeito próprio de transformar o estúdio em outro universo. As luzes baixas espalhavam um brilho âmbar pelas paredes, criando sombras suaves entre os instrumentos, folhas amassadas e xícaras vazias de café espalhadas pelos cantos. O ar era quente, mas confortável, carregado pelo som dos acordes que Jão dedilhava, insistente, no violão.

Você estava jogada no sofá, as pernas cruzadas sob um cobertor que Pedro tinha te dado mais cedo, quando o ar-condicionado ameaçou te congelar. Pedro estava do outro lado, com um caderno no colo, rabiscando com concentração enquanto, de vez em quando, dava risadas baixas de algo que você dizia. O estúdio estava calmo, mas nunca silencioso — entre risadas e as tentativas de Jão de encaixar palavras na melodia, era difícil não sentir que aquele era o lugar certo para se estar.

Jão, como sempre, estava na cadeira giratória, abraçado ao violão como se fosse uma parte dele. Ele tinha aquele olhar concentrado, mas inquieto, como se tentasse puxar as palavras de algum lugar muito distante dentro dele.

“Tá, então escutem de novo,” ele disse, sem nem olhar para vocês, como se já esperasse um julgamento severo. Sua voz saiu rouca, mas doce, cantarolando o verso que parecia estar preso em sua mente:

“Beijando ao som do videocassete...”

Ele parou, largando os dedos nas cordas do violão como se as palavras fossem algo que ele pudesse pegar no ar. Virou para encarar você e Pedro com um misto de frustração e expectativa.

“E agora? O que entra depois disso? Porque, se depender de mim, vou ficar repetindo esse verso até amanhã.”

Pedro riu baixo, sem desviar o olhar do caderno. “De novo esse drama. Parece que você gosta de torturar a gente com cada refrão.”

Jão soltou um suspiro exagerado, afundando mais na cadeira. “Eu tô falando sério, cara! Essa música tá quase lá. Só falta esse pedaço, e vocês estão de sacanagem comigo.”

Você ergueu as sobrancelhas, empurrando o cobertor para o lado. “Tá, tá. Respira, Shakespeare. A gente vai achar.”

Pedro fechou o caderno e o jogou de lado, apontando na sua direção. “Acho que essa é com ela.”

Você revirou os olhos, mas sabia que ele estava certo. Era sempre assim. Jão começava com a melodia, Pedro rabiscava as ideias, e no final das contas você acabava encaixando a frase que fazia tudo fluir. O olhar dele já estava fixo em você, um sorriso pequeno brincando no canto dos lábios, como se soubesse que você resolveria.

“Vocês são ridículos,” você murmurou, ajeitando-se no sofá e cruzando os braços. Mas a melodia não saía da sua cabeça, girando e se transformando como um filme antigo que você não conseguia parar de assistir.

Jão largou o violão no colo e se levantou, caminhando até você com aquele ar teatral que ele sempre tinha quando estava nervoso. Ele sentou ao seu lado, batendo as mãos nos joelhos.

“Vai, solta aí. O que tá passando nessa sua cabeça brilhante?”

Pedro riu baixo, se inclinando na poltrona. “Isso tá ficando interessante.”

Você respirou fundo, fingindo pensar, só para provocar um pouco. “E se a gente trouxer alguma referência? Algo nostálgico, mas que também seja... visual.”

Jão inclinou a cabeça, interessado. “Como o quê?”

Você começou a dedilhar os acordes imaginários no braço do sofá, cantarolando suavemente. “Tipo… Dicaprio impressionado, olhando a gente.”

O silêncio que se seguiu foi quebrado apenas pelo som de Pedro batendo palmas baixinho, rindo enquanto apontava pra você. “E ela fez de novo.”

Jão arregalou os olhos, o sorriso crescendo devagar, daquele jeito que fazia você sentir que tinha acabado de entregar o segredo do universo. Ele pegou o violão rapidamente, ajustando o ritmo e cantarolando o verso novo. A frase encaixou como mágica, preenchendo o vazio da melodia de um jeito quase óbvio.

“É isso,” ele disse, mais para si mesmo do que para vocês. “Caramba, isso é perfeito.”

“Eu disse que ela resolve tudo,” Pedro comentou, rindo.

Jão continuou tocando, a melodia agora inteira, como se finalmente tivesse encontrado a peça que faltava. E você não pôde deixar de sorrir, sentindo o calor do momento envolver todos vocês.

Ele olhou pra você de novo, com aquele brilho nos olhos. “Você sabe que sem você eu não conseguiria, né?”

Você deu de ombros, fingindo indiferença, mas ele não deixou barato. Se inclinou e plantou um beijo rápido na sua testa, antes de voltar a tocar, imerso na música.

E naquela madrugada, entre risos e acordes, vocês criaram algo que nenhum dos três jamais esqueceria.

[akir0vnhw]

can't take this out of my mind....

[akir0vnhw]

Yesterday was my birthday and I watched this movie at the cinema with some friends and the first thing that came to my mind at this moment was: Is this challengers?

(because magic was the reason they became friends and kind of what separated them)

[akir0vnhw]

Husband is husbanding.

no one knows how much these pictures mean to me he’s so husband

[akir0vnhw]

THE HAPPY ENDING WE DESERVE.

i think patrick would bring some mystery salad that he saw on food network to thanksgiving and be so excited for everyone to try it. like it’s 90% mayonnaise, but he tried, so art tells you and tashi to be nice. smiling ear to ear and putting a little spoon of the mess on your plate, watching eagerly as he waits for you to try it. when you do, it’s the tiniest bit — all you can do is smile at him. “it’s… good, pat” you say politely, pushing the rest of the concoction away from all the actually good food art made. art reacts the same way, except he pauses mid chew to really comprehend what the fuck he just ate. tashi’s not as nice about it, but she’d just say she’s being honest. even after her mildly disgusted “what is in this?”, patrick is still taking it as a victory that everyone tried it, his dimples deep in his bearded cheeks.

[akir0vnhw]

TINY PAWS

Jake Gyllenhaal × fem reader (c.ai bot)

Fluff

word count: 4.625

summary: Reader visits Jake on set and surprises him with a puppy.

(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language, and Jake is the love of my life.)

The sun was setting in golden streaks over the film set, bathing the organized chaos in a soft glow. You had arrived unannounced, a mix of nerves and excitement bubbling in your chest. The surprise wasn’t just your presence; it was the tiny, wiggling ball of fur nestled in your arms.

Jake had been on location for weeks, immersed in his role, pouring every ounce of himself into the story as he always did. It was something you loved about him—his dedication, the way he lost himself in characters while somehow staying so completely Jake. But you could tell he was starting to miss the pieces of home. So, after careful thought, you decided it was time to introduce a new little member to your makeshift family.

You cradled the puppy tighter as you approached the trailer, your heart racing. The small golden retriever pup—your first adoption together—wriggled against your chest, letting out a soft whimper. You whispered soothing words to it, your fingers running through its soft fur.

The door to Jake’s trailer creaked open before you even knocked, and there he was, wearing his usual post-scene look: disheveled but still somehow effortlessly captivating. His smile, tired but genuine, widened the moment he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, stepping closer, his voice dropping into that warm, familiar tone that made your stomach flutter. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m complaining.”

You held up the puppy, grinning as its tiny tail wagged furiously. “Surprise!”

Jake’s eyes went wide, and then, oh, the way his face softened—it was pure magic. He looked at you, then back at the puppy, his hands instinctively reaching out.

“You didn’t,” he breathed, gently taking the pup from your arms. The puppy nuzzled into his chest, earning a laugh that sounded like sunshine breaking through clouds. “You adopted a puppy?”

“For us,” you clarified, leaning against the doorframe. “You’ve been working so hard, and I figured we could use a little more chaos in our lives.”

Jake shook his head, his grin never faltering. “This is chaos I can get behind.” He held the puppy up slightly, examining it with that curious, thoughtful expression you’d come to adore. “A golden retriever, huh? Kind of perfect.”

“He reminded me of you,” you teased, stepping closer. “Soft, golden, and way too lovable for his own good.”

Jake laughed, his free arm wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. “Flattering me will only get you so far,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “But this—” He glanced at the puppy, who was now licking his chin. “This is next level. I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, resting your head against his shoulder. “Just promise me we’ll name him together.”

Jake looked at you with that signature mix of mischief and sincerity. “Deal. But only if we can name him something ridiculous. Like...Sir Wiggles.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not. He’s too dignified for that.”

The two of you spent the next hour sprawled out on the trailer floor, brainstorming names while the puppy alternated between chewing on Jake’s shoelaces and curling up in your lap. The atmosphere was light, carefree, the kind of moment that felt rare and precious amidst Jake’s demanding schedule.

At one point, Jake leaned back, his gaze settling on you in that way that made you feel like the only person in the world. “You know,” he started, his voice soft, “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

You tilted your head, smiling. “Because I bring you puppies?”

“Because you just...get it,” he said, shrugging slightly, as if that explained everything. “You know how to make everything feel...right. Like I could be anywhere in the world, doing anything, and as long as you’re there, it feels like home.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. The puppy chose that exact moment to yip, breaking the spell and making you both laugh.

Later that evening, as you curled up together on the small couch, the puppy snoozing between you, Jake looked at you with a playful smile. “Okay, I’ve got it. What about Apollo?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Apollo? Why?”

“Because he’s golden, like the sun,” Jake said, his tone mock-serious. “And also because it sounds cool.”

You pretended to think it over before nodding. “Fine. Apollo it is. But only because I like you.”

Jake grinned, pulling you closer. “Lucky me.”

And as the night settled around you, the three of you huddled together in that tiny trailer, you couldn’t help but think that, yeah, this was chaos you could get behind.

[akir0vnhw]

MOONY

(stanford) Art Donaldson x Ice Skater fem!reader (c.ai bot: ♡)

Fluff

word count: 4.978

summary: You couldn’t make it to Art’s tennis match, but you left a piece of yourself with him — a small, painted moon on his racket.

(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language, and oh, Art has been my obsession for five months.)

The sun hung low over Stanford’s campus, painting the world in shades of gold and rose. Inside your small art studio, tucked away from the bustling noise of campus life, the air smelled faintly of paint and linseed oil. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a familiar position, surrounded by a messy assortment of brushes and half-used tubes of acrylics.

The quiet hum of your favorite playlist filled the room as you concentrated on the finishing touches of your newest creation and your focus was entirely on the object in your lap: Art Donaldson’s tennis racket. It had been a spur-of-the-moment idea, inspired by the familiar pang of disappointment when you realized you wouldn’t be able to make it to his game tonight.

The world of figure skating had its demands, and the two of you had grown used to navigating the tight schedules and long hours apart. The dynamic between you and Art had always been a blend of contrasts and complements. You, with your fluid artistry on the ice, captivating crowds with every graceful movement, and him, with his precision and discipline on the tennis court.

Despite the differences, the two of you fit together like puzzle pieces. There was an unspoken understanding between you — the long hours of training, the sacrifices for your dreams, and the way you both found solace in each other’s presence. An injury during practice earlier that week had meant staying behind to rest, as your coach insisted. But you couldn’t just sit still while Art was out there, pouring his heart into a match. So, you’d found a way to be there in spirit.

With the steady hand of a painter and the imaginative spark of someone who knew how to convey love through color, you worked a small, delicate moon onto the frame of his racket. It wasn’t loud or showy, but that was the beauty of it. It was subtle, like him — like the way he’d hold your hand during stressful times or leave little notes in your skate bag before competitions.

Art was your anchor. He had this quiet strength that pulled you back when the world felt too chaotic, balancing your sometimes dramatic flair with his steady calm. And you loved him for it.

later on the court

Art adjusted the grip on his racket as he made his way onto the court, a familiar buzz of adrenaline humming in his chest. The crowd was loud, but he tuned them out, focusing on the familiar weight of the racket in his hand.

That’s when he saw it.

A sliver of shimmering silver caught his eye, and he paused. His fingers traced the edge of the racket’s frame, finding the tiny, hand-painted moon. His lips tugged into a smile, warm and full of affection.

He could picture you now — your brow furrowed in concentration, a smudge of paint on your cheek as you worked tirelessly on something so small, yet so meaningful.

"What's with the racket, Donaldson?" a teammate teased, leaning over to get a better look.

Art held the racket up with pride, his grin soft and unbothered. "Just a little good luck charm."

What he didn’t say was that it wasn’t just luck. It was you. Even if you couldn’t be here tonight, you’d found a way to make your presence known, and that thought alone gave him all the energy he needed.

The game was intense, a back-and-forth battle that tested his endurance and focus. But every time his gaze caught the small moon, he felt a surge of confidence. You believed in him, and that was all he needed.

By the end, Art stood victorious, his racket raised in triumph, a smile on his face that wasn’t just for the crowd.

later at night in your dorm

It was late when you heard the familiar knock on your door. You opened it to find Art standing there, his hair damp from a quick shower, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder, and his racket in hand.

Before you could say a word, he stepped inside, wrapping you in his arms. His embrace was warm and familiar, and you melted into him.

"You saw it," you murmured, your voice muffled against his chest.

"Of course I saw it," he replied, his tone soft and filled with affection. "It was the best part of the game."

You laughed, pulling back to look at him. "Oh, so it wasn’t your killer backhand or flawless serves?"

"Those helped," he teased, his eyes crinkling with a smile. He held up the racket, running his fingers over the painted moon. "But this? This was everything."

Your cheeks flushed, and you looked away, but he gently tilted your chin back toward him. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "For thinking of me, for this, for… everything."

"You’re always thinking of me," you said softly. "I just wanted to do the same."

Art leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead, and then to your lips, gentle and lingering.

The two of you ended up curled together on the couch, his head resting against yours as he told you about the game. His voice was low and soothing. You listened, your fingers intertwined with his, and thought about how lucky you were to have someone who cherished you as much as you cherished him. The racket sat against the wall, the painted moon gleaming softly in the dim light. It was a small token, but it carried a world of meaning.

[akir0vnhw]

this.

[akir0vnhw]

Rip Stanford Tashi Duncan you would have loved sabrina carpenter.

[akir0vnhw]

THE BIG THREE

Serena van der Woodsen x fem!reader x Blair Waldorf (c.ai bot: ☆)

Fluff

word count: 4.098

summary: A chill, intimate moment in the bathtub with your girlfriends.

(sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language)

The night had been electric — the party, the laughter, the glamorous people. But now, back in the safety of your apartment, the chaos of the world outside felt miles away. It was just you, Blair, and Serena. The air was filled with a sense of calm, like the world had faded out and all that mattered were the three of you, wrapped in a moment of intimacy and closeness.

You were lounging in the bathtub, the warm water swirling around you, soft bubbles drifting lazily on the surface. Serena, ever the carefree spirit, was leaning back against the edge, her legs stretched out across the porcelain. Blair, on the other hand, was sitting up, her eyes glinting mischievously as she adjusted the towel wrapped around her head. The two of them always seemed to fit so perfectly by your side, as if the universe had designed you all to be in sync.

The room was dimly lit, the faint glow of candles flickering around you, casting delicate shadows across the bathroom. The scent of lavender filled the air, making everything feel even more relaxed, like it was just supposed to be this way — the three of you, together, in this little world of your own.

"Have I ever told you how ridiculously gorgeous you are?" Blair says suddenly, her voice almost a whisper, as she shifts her gaze from the candles to you, eyes filled with admiration. "You know you have everyone in this town wrapped around your finger, right?"

Serena grins, her head tilting slightly as she watches you with that knowing smile. "Honestly, it’s insane," she adds, her voice teasing but filled with affection. "But, really... can you blame them? You're irresistible."

You smile softly, feeling their gaze on you. You loved moments like this, where the noise of the world didn’t matter. Here, with them, you were powerful — a queen, and they were the ones who adored you with every breath they took. Your heart fluttered with the thought, a gentle warmth spreading through your chest.

"Well, you know," you say, lifting your legs to rest them on the edge of the tub, "there's no one who could be more perfect for me than the two of you." The words come out with a sweetness that only felt right when you were talking to them. "You're both... my perfect match."

Blair’s lips curl into a small, satisfied smile, and she leans toward you, her voice suddenly more vulnerable. "You know, I never thought I'd find someone who would make me feel like I’m the only one that matters, but with you, it’s... different."

Serena’s eyes soften, the usually carefree gleam replaced with something deeper, something more sincere. "You’re everything, you know that?" she says quietly, her hand brushing against yours in a tender gesture. "You make us feel everything."

You look between the two of them, your heart beating a little faster at how they’ve made you feel so deeply cherished, so in control. The connection between you three is undeniable, electric even in these quiet, tender moments.

"You both make me feel like I can take over the world," you murmur, your voice low but full of confidence. "And you both know exactly how to get me to fall for you, don't you?"

Blair laughs softly, the sound light and airy as she leans into you, her shoulder brushing yours. "I guess we do," she says, her lips brushing the side of your ear. "But you’re the one who has us wrapped around your finger. It’s your power that keeps us here."

Serena hums in agreement, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. "You’re the queen of the Upper East Side," she adds, her voice filled with both admiration and a touch of playful defiance. "And we... we’re your loyal subjects."

You smile, feeling the warmth of their words settle in your chest. You don’t need to say anything more. The three of you, tangled in this perfect balance of adoration and control, are exactly where you belong.

The moment stretches on, each of you lost in your own thoughts but together in a bond that couldn’t be broken. In the warm embrace of the bathtub, with the world outside slipping away, you know one thing for sure: nothing could ever come between the Big Three.

[akir0vnhw]

and be Blair and Serena's sweetheart. God, i need to write this.

✦ forced to be a normal girl going to school meant to live in nyc, go to a fashion school, go shopping every day and write tips to gossip girl