#and her life is in your hands but she’s only one of so many and she’s slipping through your fingers all the time

[requiemforthepoets]

hii do you write for franco? if yes can i request a fic where reader is short and insecure about her height so she’s afraid their relationship won’t survive his “f1 career” cause of the lifestyle and all the girls he’s going to meet so despite really loving him she tries to breakup with him but he won’t let her?

tell me that you’re still mine, tell me that we’ll be just fine 𖦹 FC43

PAIRINGS: franco colapinto x female!reader

SUMMARY: when you found out that franco will be racing for williams racing, you were so proud of him. though at the back of your mind, you can’t help but overthink about your relationship with him now that he’s finally in f1.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: hi! thank you so much for sending your request. it’s my first time writing for franco, but i really had fun. i hope you’ll like this one and it’s up to what you were expecting. enjoy! :)

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

WARNINGS: not proofread, typos, insecurities (mostly comparing self to others), cursing, low self esteem, overthinking, anxiety, and no use of y/n

As you stand in the Williams garage, you can clearly hear the hum of the whole circuit buzzing all around, and you can’t help but feel so proud. Franco had just achieved what he had been dreaming of since childhood—his first official race in Formula 1. It should have been one of the happiest moments of your life, watching him stand there, helmet in hand, chatting animatedly with the engineers, that wide grin plastered on his face. You knew how hard he worked for this, how many nights you spent listening to his dreams, encouraging him through the frustrations of karting, and celebrating every win, every milestone. You were there through it all, and here he was now—your Franco, living his dream.

However, alongside the pride that you were feeling, a bitter feeling also crept in. It had been lurking at the back of your mind for days now, only growing stronger with each passing moment. It was not about Franco’s career, but more about where you fit into his new world. The glitz and glamor, cameras that seemed to follow every move, the polished and perfect people that surrounded him—people you had never imagined yourself fitting in with.

Lily, Alex’s girlfriend, had been nothing but sweet to you all weekend. You bonded with her quickly, her kind words and warmth is a welcoming comfort amidst the chaos. Yet, as much as you liked her, being around someone so gorgeous and effortlessly poised had only made you feel even smaller. You weren’t tall or glamorous like her or the other WAGs, nor were you used to the attention, and you barely have a successful career. You were just…you. A university student trying to get by through her classes, someone who barely knew what to do when a camera pointed your way, and someone who couldn’t help but wonder if you were truly cut out for this kind of life.

When Franco finally made his way back to you, you could hardly breathe. He greeted you with that same wide smile and a soft tender kiss on the lips, his eyes still sparkling from the thrill of the race.

“Can you believe it?” He laughed, pulling you into a hug. “I can’t believe I just raced in F1. This is really insane.”

You smiled weakly, arms wrapped around him. Trying to steady your racing heart. “I’m so proud of you,” you murmured against his chest. But the words felt heavy, there was something you needed to say, something you dreaded.

After the media frenzy died down and the team began to clear out, you knew it was time. You asked Franco if the two of you can go to his driver’s room, away from the lights, cameras, and the noise. He nodded and led you towards his driver’s room, completely oblivious to the storm brewing inside of you.

When you reached his driver’s room, he locked the room to give you two some privacy. Franco quickly sensed that something was off with you, immediately frowning.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, as your hands shook as you fumbled with the words. “Franco…I don’t know if I can do this.”

“Do what?” His voice is gentle but confused.

“This. All of this.” You gestured around vaguely. “I don’t belong in this kind of world. I don’t look like the other girls in this kind environment, I don’t act like them. I just feel like…I’m not cut out for this, you know. For you.”

He blinked at you, and then—he laughed. A soft incredulous sound that only made your chest tighten. “You’re joking, right?” But you just shook your head, throat tightening painfully. “I’m serious, Franco.”

His smile faltered, eyes searching your face, and then he grew serious. “You’re breaking up with me?” He sounded like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing at all.

You bit your lip, feeling your resolve crack under the weight of his words. “I think I have to.”

Franco stepped closer, shaking his head in disbelief. “No. No way. Hell no. You’re not doing this.” He grabbed your hands, holding them tightly. “Tell me why. What’s really going on?”

You stared at the ground, unable to meet his eyes. How could you even tell him? How could you put into words the overwhelming insecurities that you had been drowning in.

“I’m not enough for this life, for your life,” you whispered, voice barely audible. “I’m just…me. You deserve someone who can handle all of this, someone who doesn’t feel like they are drowning every time the cameras turn their way. I’m scared that this will change us, that it will change you.”

Franco squeezed your hands tighter, forcing you to look at him. “You’re scared?” He asked softly. “Of what exactly? That I’ll stop loving you because I’m in F1 now?”

You nodded, chest tightening as tears began to fill your eyes. “I’m not like them, Franco. I don’t belong here.”

He pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head. “Listen to me, and you listen well,” he whispered. “You’ve been with me through everything, literally everything. Since my karting days. You’re the one I want with me, not some random model, not someone from this kind of environment. You.” He gently cupped your face, making sure that you were looking directly into his eyes. “I’m not breaking up with you. Not because of this, not because of anything. I love you so much. If this life makes you uncomfortable, we’ll figure it out. Together.”

You shook your head, still overwhelmed with doubts. “But I don’t know how to—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupted softly. “I don’t really care about any of that. All I care about is you. I’m not losing you just because you think that you’re not enough. You’ve always been more than enough for me.”

Tears finally spilled over, and Franco wiped them away with his thumb. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, okay?” He added.

You let out a choked laugh, burying your face in his chest. “Okay,” you whispered, feeling the weight of your fears slowly start to lift.

Franco kissed the top of your head as he kept you close, his voice soft but firm. “Look at me,” he said, lifting your chin so your eyes met his. “There’s no one else I see in my future but you. No one else who matters like you do. I don’t care about the noise or what other people say. Let them talk all they want, I don’t give a shit. You’re the most important person in my life.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket chasing away the chill of insecurity. You couldn’t help the way your heart fluttered, how much you wanted to believe him. “But people will judge, Franco. They already are.”

Franco shook his head, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I don’t care about them. They don’t know you like I do. I’ve seen you at your best and your worst, and I’ve loved you through it all. That’s what matters, not their opinions.”

You bit your lip, trying to push away the lingering doubts. “It’s just I don’t want to hold you back. You deserve someone who—”

“I already have someone I deserve,” he cut you off, voice unwavering. “You’ve been there for me through everything, you believed in me when no one else did, even when I wasn’t sure I believed in myself. I’m not letting you go because of some stupid insecurities about fitting in with this world. I don’t need someone from this world. All I need is you.”

Tears welled in your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from doubt or fear. They were from the overwhelming love you felt at that moment. “You’re sure?” You whispered, voice trembling. “You’re really sure?”

Franco smiled, the kind of smile that made everything else melt away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. You’re my future, not them. Not anything else. Just you.”

As you stood there in his arms, you let yourself believe it. Because the way he looked at you, the way he spoke, it left no room for any doubts. You were the one he wanted, and that was enough.

After a long moment of silence, just feeling the comfort of being in his arms, you finally pulled back, wiping the last of your tears and giving him a small and sweet smile. The tension that had been weighing on you had lifted, already been replaced by the familiar warmth you always felt around Franco.

You wrinkled your nose playfully, trying to lighten the mood. “Okay, as sweet as this moment is, you really need to freshen up. You stink.” You teased, giving him a playful nudge.

Franco let out a laugh, the sound light and easy. “What? No way, I smell like pure victory,” he grinned, pulling you back into his arms, purposely trying to rub his post-race sweat on you.

“Franco!” You squealed, trying to push him away. “Ew, Franco! You’re all sweaty!”

He laughed harder, his arms tightening around you for a second before he finally let you go, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll go and freshen up,” he said, his grin still wide. “But don’t think I didn’t notice how you were crying on me. If anything, you owe me for that.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Fine, fine. I’ll owe you. Just go clean up before I regret taking you back,” you teased, earning an exaggerated gasp from him.

Franco winked at you before heading off to freshen up, not forgetting to steal a kiss from you. “Don’t go anywhere, I’ve got plans for us to celebrate.” He threw a playful look over his shoulder.

You shook your head with a laugh, feeling lighter than you had in days. The doubts that once felt overwhelming now seemed small in comparison to the love you shared. Franco was right—together, you could figure out everything, just like how you both always do.

[barcaatthemoon]

friend of the bride || lia walti x reader ||

You hook up with Lia at your best friend's wedding.

MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut warning.

You knew about Lia. You had never played against Lia, but you knew all about her. It was your job to know about football, both international and domestic. She hadn't played in the NWSL, but you were a pretty big Arsenal fan even before she had joined up. But even before then, you had heard people in the business talking about the Swiss player.

It made sense that she'd be in the bridal party. Lia was Ana's best friend, and maid of honor. In a way, you thought it was wild that the two of you weren't better acquainted. Obviously you understood Ana being hesitant about introducing the two of you. You were a bit of a womanizer to say the least, even if you had settled down quite a bit since starting your gig as an official NWSL commentator.

"Excuse me, I don't know if we know each other. I'm (Y/n)." You could feel Ana's eyes on you as you approached Lia. There weren't many people that made you nervous, but your best friend's new wife was definitely one of them. The two of you had been teammates years ago whenever Ana played on the Thorns, and maybe, just maybe, you had seen a spark all those years ago.

Nothing had ever come of it, and you were happier because of it. Ana was cool, and she definitely would have hated you whenever you transferred across the country at the end of the year. You weren't a native to New Jersey, but Rutgers had offered you a full ride, so you counted yourself as a bit of a Jersey girl. Sky Blue wasn't perfect by any means, but it was definitely the place that you had wanted to retire playing for.

"I'm Lia, and no, we haven't been properly introduced," she said. She outstretched her hand, and you took the offering. Behind you, you could practically feel Ana attempting to burn holes into the back of your head to deter you. "My friend is watching us."

"If I'm being honest, I don't blame her. She's heard stories of how I can be at weddings." Bashful wasn't something that normally worked well with you, but Lia found the blush cute. It became obvious as she patted the chair in front of her that she knew a bit about you. Ana had to have warned her before either of you arrived in Seattle for the wedding.

"I've heard stories of how you are away from weddings. I get it though, life feels a bit more special with all of this love in the air," Lia said. You thought that she was sweet, and a part of you was about to back out when she grabbed onto your wrist. "I fly out tomorrow afternoon, and I'd hate to leave without as many good memories as I can get."

"She'll kill me if we leave together," you told Lia. She glanced behind you and waved at Ana. You did everything in your power not to turn, but Lia seemed amused by whatever was going on behind you. "Is she being mean?"

"Not at all, but you should say your goodbyes and get your coat. I'm in room 615," Lia told you. She slipped her key card in your pocket, and you wondered how long she had been watching you. Lia left first, leaving you to sit there stunned for a moment. It was hasty, but you said your goodbyes and promised Ana that you'd be safe with her friend. She was a bit dismissive, but you didn't miss the little twinkle in her eye. If you had any more to drink, you would have considered that she was happy about you and Lia running off together.

It seemed almost too good to be true that Lia's room was on the same floor as yours. You made a quick stop at your own room to shed your suit jacket and make sure that you still looked good. Your room was only a few doors down from Lia's, and you wondered if she had seen you at all over the week. The entirety of the wedding party had been flown in several days earlier than all of the other guests, and you doubted the maid of honor had been an exception to that.

"You left your jacket. That's a shame, it looked good. At least I can still do this," Lia said as she grabbed you by your tie and pulled you into the room. You stumbled a little, but caught yourself as Lia's arms wrapped around your shoulders. She was still in her dress, but without her heels on, you were a couple inches taller than her. "You know, I had always hoped you would find your way to the WSL. I would have liked to play against you."

"I bet we could have had a lot of fun together." Lia seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of your words quickly. You were a bit surprised by her forwardness as she kissed you. It was welcome, as was the feeling of her hands pulling your button out from where it had been tucked into your pants.

The women you hooked up with had all definitely wanted you, but they were rarely as confident in themselves as Lia. She was sweet and gentle, but it wasn't submissive in the slightest. She took what she wanted without overstepping, and it took you several moments for your brain to kick in and join her.

"Take my dress off," Lia told you. You didn't hesitate for even half a second to turn the Swiss woman around. There was a little clasp by the small of her back, and once it was undone, Lia let the dress slip off from her body and pool onto the floor.

You could see that her chest was bare, but that did nothing to prepare you for the sight of her. She stood in front of you completely topless. You weren't being subtle in your staring, but Lia didn't seem to mind it. She let you keep staring as she pushed you back onto the bed. Lia climbed onto your lap, and there she sat straddling you as she looked down at you.

"There are plenty of more comfortable places for you to sit," you started. Lia showed her amusement with a little half-smirk. Normally, your jokes garnered a bit more of a reaction, and the fact that she hadn't given you one made you want to try again. You wanted to impress this woman with every part of you, and you had no idea why. Nobody was supposed to mean this much to you, not for a single night anyway.

"I'm already practically naked on top of you, lines aren't necessary," Lia told you. You nodded and swallowed, somewhat nervous as she stared at you. It was like she was studying you, less out of curosity, but more in the way a predator would study its prey. "You're wearing too much, and I'd hate to ruin your very nice suit."

You nearly let out a whine as Lia moved off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and hastily undressed yourself, not caring that for a moment, you were more bare than she was. Lia hummed in appreciation as you stood in front of her, completely naked. She guided you down onto your knees in front of her and leaned over her own lap to kiss you.

"Show me what you can do. I hope everything I've heard about you is true," Lia said. Even after she broke the kiss, you didn't stop kissing her. Your mouth moved all over her neck and jaw, occasionally stopping to mark a couple of hickeys for her to take as a temporary souvenir. You were a lot less careful with your marking whenever you got to her chest, sucking as many love bites onto her skin as you could.

Lia tried not to rush you, but you could tell that her patience was growing thin. She ground herself against the palm of your hand as you cupped her over her underwear. You let out a pleasured groan at the feeling of her heat through the fabric. You could practically feel her arousal growing as she moved against your hand.

"More, I want more," Lia told you. You took your time teasing her as you took her underwear off. Your face was buried into the side of her thigh when your attention was pulled by a frustrated growl. Lia looked down at you with a look so sweet that you almost got whiplash from the way her hand balled into a fist around your hair.

You let her guide your face, only sticking your tongue out to give her something to seek out. Lia loosened her grip when she felt your lips wrap around her clit. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you against her as she rocked her hips back and forth gently. You pried her thighs apart to make room for your fingers to tease at her entrance, stroking over the hole with the promise of penetration.

This time, Lia didn't have to ask or tell you to keep going. Once you got into your groove, everything came very naturally to you. Lia was moving wildly on the bed, each buck of her hips punctuated by a little creak of the bed. Between Lia's moaning, the bed creaking, and the absolutely obscene sound of your fingers fucking in and out of her, there wasn't a moment of silence.

"That's it, right there. Don't you dare stop. Oh fuck!" Lia exclaimed. You felt a sharp tug to your hair as her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You could feel her nails dig into your skin, but the pain of it just made your eyes roll back in your head a little. Above you, Lia's body held you close even as she tried to squirm away from you, torn between wanting to stop and wanting to see just how hard you could make her cum. Ultimately, she ended up pushing you away just a couple minutes later as her body began to approach overstimulation.

"I think you did a number on me," you muttered as you rubbed at the little nail indents on the back of your neck. Lia sat up on her elbows, just enough to see her reflection in the TV. She looked gorgeous to you, disheleved in the most perfect of ways. There was no denying what had just happened, not when you looked at Lia.

"I can do a lot worse," Lia laughed. You clammed up a bit at her words. You had no idea what was wrong with you because Lia shouldn't have been getting to you this badly. She was practically a stranger, and yet, you didn't want to just gather your clothes and run off to your own room just yet. "If you ever find yourself in London, message me. Now though, I think you should get going. Guests are going to be back any moment now."

"I've never been asked out and kicked out at the same time. You are something else," you said in disbelief. Lia could tell that you weren't angry, and just to keep it that way, she walked you out. A part of you wanted to linger, but aside from a pretty chaste kiss, Lia didn't give you the opportunity. You just had to hope that you'd catch her before she ran off the next day, but even if you didn't, you couldn't be mad about how your night went.

[wandasaura]

EVEN STATUES CRUMBLE

summary — when exhaustion creeps up on you after a long week, you find yourself coming undone quickly. luckily, maria’s there to hold you close and put all of your broken pieces back together

warning(s) — hurt/comfort, elements of fluff, domestic maria hill, platonic blackhill, brief mentions of battle, civilian casualties, and death, sleepy natasha being a softie, maria fixing all of your problems because that’s just what she does

The keycard attached to the waistband of your pants got you into pretty much anywhere aboard the helicarrier; one of the very few perks that came with being a Level Ten agent alongside Nicholas J. Fury. You adored your livelihood, that wasn’t even a question you graveled over on your busiest days – you wouldn’t sacrifice so many nights if you didn’t – however, with being so high on the ladder of ranks came the inevitable burnout when paperwork and mission reports piled up; which they inevitably always did despite your meticulous schedule and borderline obsessive work ethic. You delegated the workload of ten other agents on the daily, usually without so much as breaking a sweat, but a particular mission report from a Level Six had gotten to you in a moment of exhaustion. 

Your boots were the same Shield issued footwear that everyone else wore around the helicarrier, clunky and steel toed with near indestructible black laces, but your footsteps were light as you padded down the dimly lit hallway toward an office you’d practically adopted as your own since the director had found himself another right-hand woman. There was no point in knocking when you reached it after what felt like hours of slowly trudging down void hallways, you were the only one with clearance to enter without being physically let in, other than Fury himself, but he’d never turn up to her office, especially not so late into the night. The soft glow of a desk lamp creeping beneath the crack in the door alerted you of life inside the spacious room, and a faint smile pulled at your lips despite your exhaustion and wary emotions. 

A small light on the side of the metal door flashed green for only a millisecond before it faded and the latch clicked tellingly. You bristled at the assault of frigid air that swept past you when you pushed inside tiredly, but steeled your expressions quickly when your eyes trailed over the room and noted not one, but two bodies. A displeased huff fell off of your lips when you noticed Maria behind her desk, a mountain of paperwork practically hiding her from view entirely, and Natasha sprawled out on her couch with a solemn glaze over her green eyes. 

“She’s in my spot.” You sighed, no real malice behind your words, but exhaustion put a damper on your typically lightspoken banter with the redhead. It seems both you and Natasha, a woman that had somehow wormed her way into the heart of the Deputy Director despite her bloodied past, had sought refuge in Maria’s quiet presence tonight, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about it. You held nothing against the reformed assassin, she’d seen you at some of your worst moments, but you’d been holding out hope that a few stolen minutes with Maria alone would heal the ache you carried deep. 

Natasha, who was always quick with her wit, didn’t seem to have it in her either, and softly she allowed her voice to break the silence that had been light over the office prior to your entrance. “I can leave.” You shook your head dismissively, kicking the door closed behind you in favor of stalking over to Maria’s desk. 

Out of habit, the Commander tilted her screen away from your gaze, her dark yet meticulously kept eyebrows furrowing as you came behind her desk without hesitation. “I’m higher clearance than you, and Natasha’s been able to see everything you're doing from the couch, Ria.” You rolled your eyes fondly, hands bracing themselves on the back of her chair that you pulled away from the desk without taking her responsibilities into account. She had the same deadlines as you, only hers weren’t so structured and rigorous. You knew that anything she was doing could wait until morning, even if she liked to be overly prepared and considered anything but early a direct hit to her reputation. “Just hold me.” 

You fell into her lap without another word, curling up against her battered and stiff uniform that had definitely seen better days. Your head tucked itself into the pocket of darkness and warmth between her chin and shoulder, your fingers already working at the hair tie around her thin chestnut strands, wanting them free from the confines of her tightly secured bun. With the black elastic around your wrist, you sighed contently, absentmindedly pulling your fingers through the loose knots that had formed from your ungraceful removal of her hair tie. It was an apologetic gesture, the tips of your fingers soothing the skin of her scalp that had definitely been snagged with your quick movements, but Maria had become accustomed to your endearing quirks that almost always followed a vicious panic attack. 

“Romanoff, if you move from that couch, I will have you on Clint clean-up duty for the rest of the month.” Even if you couldn’t see the Russian from behind your eyelids, even if you were pressed so tightly against Maria’s neck that even with open eyes all you’d see was darkness, your body could practically feel her silent movements. It was a valid response, however you held her to a higher standard than you did other agents. Your girlfriend trusted her with her life, you’d made something of a friend out of her since her first year at Shield, it was slightly insulting that she thought she had to flee at the first sight of vulnerability from you. “I just… I just need a minute.” 

Even as you tried to pull rank, tried to command her obedience, Natasha could tell that your heart wasn’t in it. Whether to humor you, or simply because she didn’t really want to retreat to her own quarters, she sank into the couch once more, throwing her arm over her eyes as she succumbed to the same darkness that you sought out. A shaky breath fell off your lips when Maria’s thumbs dug into your shoulder blades, applying pressure to all of the knots and tension that had accumulated over the grueling week. You’d been unintentionally ghosting her, although neither of you really counted missed lunch dates and empty beds to mean anything significant, but the premise was all the same, even if she held no resentment toward your work ethic that was too similar to her own. 

“Diaz?” Maria’s voice was soft, understanding even, as she asked. Even the name of the agent had you going rigid in her clutches, a choked whimper falling off of your lips as you tightened your grip on her hair and worked feverishly to weave little braids into the silky chestnut strands that could do for a wash and deep condition. You’d have to remember to remind her next time she had a slow morning, but that wasn’t coming anytime soon for either of you. 

You nodded wordlessly against her neck, pinching your eyes shut even tighter if that was at all possible. You loved your job, adored the livelihood that you’d found a family in, but no amount of experience made reading civilian death counts easier. No amount of experience made loss any lighter. “Seventeen, Ria. Seventeen people died. It just– I haven’t seen a civilian death count that high since Sokovia.” 

In retrospect, seventeen people wasn’t a lot, not when you put it up against the battle of Sokovia that had earned Shield another foreign agent and an inconsolable migraine for months to follow, but when you analyzed the mission objective, when you stripped back everything that it was up against, it was still seventeen innocent people that had been caught in the crossfire. “We can’t save them all, mi alma.” It was a weak condolence, Maria knew that, but it was what you needed to hear, even if you detested it. Shield had saved twenty from a Hydra base in Madripoor, all of them no older than nineteen years old, but still seventeen people that were in the wrong place at the wrong time had died. Shield had saved twenty children, but still parents, and siblings, and people had lost their lives to do so. Was any good really done if the children who got to go home didn’t have a mother to help them through the trauma? Had any good really been done if a daughter didn’t have a father to come home to? 

“Eleven.” To Natasha, the number that fell off your lips was entirely random, but for Maria, who knew everything about you, down to the way you liked to tie your shoes, always starting with the left one first, it meant something more. Eleven people had died in an ambush the night that Nicholas J. Fury had swept you away from the rubble and into the empire that hadn’t been so publicly known at the time. Eleven people that you’d known, some loosely and some deeply intimately. Your single mother that had worked four jobs just to keep the electric on in the biting cold of winter had died, and you’d held her hand as she took her final breath, entirely helpless and terrified. Seventeen people had died in Madripoor, and depressingly, you could only picture yourself in the aftermath of such a tragedy. 

How many kids were going to come home from school without a parent? How many parents were going to come home from work without a child? The guilt of surviving weighed heavily on your heart, but it was exhaustion that pushed you past the point of thinking rationally. Madripoor had sung its praises to Shield after the initial battle just under a month ago. You’d seen the headlines, manned the press conferences, talked with the families that had wanted to reach out, but seeing that number in pristine black ink had rattled you fiercely. 

“When’s the last time you slept, bebé?” The softly spoken pet name was usually enough to bring a smile to your face no matter the conditions you faced, but it only had you sinking deeper into Maria now. Your heart felt so heavy in your chest, your bones felt so dense in your body, everything that you’d been managing had finally crushed you; just like the rubble had crushed your mother’s unsuspecting body on a side street in Manhattan when all she’d wanted to do was show you her new favorite coffee shop. 

“Don’t know… the last time I came home?” Your voice was meek, distant as you trailed through your memory trying to locate the date in your mind. You’d been home that Wednesday night, sank into bed beside Maria and held her close until she’d gotten up for her own shift, and had continued to sleep for another two hours before sunlight brought on more assignments and deadlines, but that was so fuzzy now, so long ago. You barely knew the date, but Maria did, and she sighed softly in confirmation. 

“It’s Friday, sweetheart.” She informed, her thumbs still digging into the spots of tension in your back, working out the knots and kinks that had you stiff beneath her touch. “You’re exhausted.” 

“And you’re not? I check the entry logs, Ria.” Your defiance was softly muttered, and Maria sighed her resignation. She hadn’t been home either, not since Thursday morning when she’d slipped out of your arms and left you to rest a while longer in a stiff bed dressed in scratchy sheets, but she’d taken the breaks she knew her body needed, even if it had been begrudgingly. The couch that Natasha was draped across had seen a similar form from her multiple times since then, even if the longest consecutive rest she’d gotten was merely half an hour. That was the difference between you both. Maria knew when she had to come first, even if she often waited until the very last second to actually step away from her tasks. You, on the other hand, saw everything else as a priority. That was what got you so high on the ranking ladder. That characteristic was one of many reasons why you alone shared the same ranking level as Fury. When shit needed to be done, he knew that you’d do it, no questions asked. But that blindsided work-ethic was going to kill you eventually. 

“You’ve slept once in the last week, mi amor.” Maria sighed, knowing that she was arguing with a wall at this point, but willing to put the effort in anyways. She was always willing to put the effort in for you, even if you couldn’t do it for yourself. Her hands caressed your back affectionately, slipping away from your shoulder blades only to put pressure on your spine, cracking the bones and notches in your back soothingly without spoken word. You sighed, deflating in her lap once again, craning your neck only to release some of the ache and tension in your jaw before you burrowed into her neck once more, still keeping fistfulls of her soft hair between your fingers that had been stained black from smudged ink. 

At some point, you must’ve fallen asleep against her, never slackening your grip on her chestnut tresses but grabbing onto the neckline of her uniform at an undisclosed moment. She hadn’t tried to move you, hadn’t tried to wake you, hadn’t tried to move at all. She’d simply sat in the silence of her office with Natasha’s easy company, shuffling through paperwork and mission reports, but getting no real work done, distracted by your warmth against her chest and the weight of you draped across her lap for the first time in days. When you woke a handful of hours later, the warmth of the sun and the light of a new day rousing you from an uneventful sleep – the level of exhaustion you faced preventing dreams from even playing out – you didn’t stiffen in alarmed surprise when you realized that strong arms were looped around your waist and keeping you steadily upright. Maria was a distinguishable presence even when you were half delirious, and a warm smile pulled at the corners of your lips as you laid a gentle kiss to the neglected patch of skin behind her earring-less earlobe. She really needed to start wearing her cartilage cuffs again, but the last one you’d gotten for her had been lost to a bloodied battle in Argentina. You made the mental note to get her another one sometime soon, but for now, you simply basked in the presence of her company that was so painfully warm and inviting. 

“You had Romanoff on edge last night.” Maria mused, her fingers tightening around your waist in a sweet wordless greeting, prematurely ending the reign of silence that you’d been enjoying, but you didn’t complain. The sound of her voice was just as inviting, if not more intoxicating than silence ever could be. 

“Even statues crumble every now and again.” You huffed against her neck, tightening your grip on her uniform if that was at all possible, allowing your gentle fingers to tickle the skin hidden from view that still carried the lingering scent of your body wash. “She’ll get over it.” 

“You really have to stop referring to yourself as a statue. The rookies are going to start thinking an alien attack sucked the emotions out of your body..” She chortled, breathy laughter twinged with traces of mental exhaustion jostling both of your bodies, and you couldn’t help the smile that twisted your dehydrated lips upward involuntarily in response. How you could spend so many days away from her never made sense when you were wrapped up in her presence, but it was reassuring to know that no matter the length of time that separated your passionate love, she would always be there to crawl home to. 

“As soon as you stop feeding into being called Hard-Ass Hill, I’ll stop fucking with the rookies.” Another chaste kiss was laid onto her skin, the second in too many days to count, but you’d make up for your absence before you inevitably returned to your own office to continue drowning in paperwork that never ended. “Te amo tanto.” You signed your unarguable admiration, but she wouldn’t be Maria Hill if she didn’t have a sharp comeback to silence your efforts. 

“Te amo mucho mas, mi alma.”

[lulunothulu]

There's not many Glen Powell stories could you do one for me plz:)

So Glen and Reader have been dating about a year. she's not in the entertainment industry she is just a RN he ask her to join him for the press tour for Twitters overseas. She goes with Glen to do some interviews and over hears a conversation where people think she is just with Glen for the money and everyone sees it. She's never asked Glen for money or help but he does occasionally do things for her out of love. She starts to pick up alot of extra shifts at the hospital and dip into her savings to afford all that stuff for the press tour to the point she's passes out one day after working 3 doubles in a row. Glen shows up and ask why she has been working so much and she comes clean about what she heard and how she dipped into her saving to afford the trip. He comforts her and makes her feel better and let's her know he knows she loves him for him and not his money and he asked her to come on the trip bc he wanted her there and he loves her and he loves to spoil her that's not gonna change.

I absolutely LOVE this one 😭 as a former ER worker I live for this.

“Just ordinary”

Glen Powell x Reader

“So Glen,” the interviewer asks. “Who are you bringing to the London premiere?”

Glen smiles, looking behind the interviewer to where you stand with his publicist behind the stage.

“I’m bringing my girlfriend, Y/N,” he smiles, winking in your direction.

You make a mental note to check how much flights would cost but smile back at him.

“Ooo! What does she do? Is she an actress?”

“She’s actually an ER nurse,” he boasts. “I’m so lucky to have her in my life and to be able to feel so safe with her around me.”

“I bet,” they say. “Having someone there to nurse you to health even if you’re not sick must be so rewarding.”

“It is!” He beams. “I love that she takes care of me and makes sure I stay healthy. It also helps when I get injured on the job.”

“That’s so sweet,” they tell him. “Well, that’s all the time we have today. Make sure you catch Twisters in theaters near you!”

After the interview, Glen walks up to where you’re waiting and interlaces his fingers with yours before pulling you close to kiss you deeply.

“We’re almost done, I just have to do some mini interviews outside and then we can head home.”

You nod, and smile up at him. You knew the drill. After an interview inside, there would be fans all over the place, begging for pictures, as well as other interviewers waiting outside.

You follow him out the building and mentally prepare yourself for the screens and flashing lights of cameras. Next to you, Glen holds your hand tightly—not only making sure you’re next to him, but also safe. Glen hands you off to his mom who’s waiting behind him before walking up to some fans.

You smile at Cyndy. “I don’t know how you do it all the time. It’s so loud.”

She laughs. “Yeah I don’t know either. But to see how happy he gets when they all flock to him is the highlight of it all.”

You smile. You knew exactly what that feeling was like. Seeing Glen in his element and interacting with the people that got him to where he is now, felt amazing to watch.

———

You both follow him down the line of people, chatting to each other until you hear someone to the left say something that makes your blood turn cold.

“Yeah, I don’t see what he sees in her,” a teenage girl says to her friend. “She must be searching for money or something because there’s no way Glen would be with someone so ordinary like her. She’s not even that pretty.”

“Yeah, I agree. She seems like such a golddigger. Like where did she even come from?” Her friend responds.

You stop in your tracks at that, Cyndy’s brows furrow in their direction and she wraps an arm around your waist.

“Don’t listen to them. That’s just jealousy talking,” she whispers in your ear.

You only nod, scared if you spoke, you’d cry. Instead, you and Cyndy walk toward the car that’s meant to drive you all back to Glen’s house and wait for Glen there.

By the time he joins you all, you’re barely speaking and holding it together. On the car ride back to his place, you text your charge nurse, Kathy, and ask her to put you in the schedule for the whole week.

Kathy: are you sure? That’s a lot of hours and you’ll be exhausted by the end of it all.

You: trust me, I need the distraction and the money. I’ll be fine.

Kathy: alright, you’re set up for the whole week.

You sigh to yourself, earning a light nudge and smile from Glen.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

You smile up at him and lean onto his shoulder. “Yeah, just got a text that I’ll be working all week.”

“Oh no,” he says. “Can you find a replacement?

“Unfortunately no,” you tell him. “We’ve been so short staffed, they’d barely let me leave for lunch.”

“Hopefully all that overtime means you can come with me to London next week.”

You only smile and nod.

The thing about dating Glen that you never got used to was the way that he’d pay for everything you two did. You knew there was an imbalance when it came to money but never brought it up because he’d always been so happy to pay for everything. But after hearing what those two girls were saying…. Your pride, or something like it, felt like it was wrong to let it continue to happen.

You didn’t want to seem like a gold digger after all.

With this week of twelve hour shifts, you’d be able to afford the ticket, maybe some souvenirs?

Maybe I should text Kathy to set me up for sixteen hour shifts all week.

You text her when you get back to Glen’s place.

———

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you know asking for a week of work plus adding four more hours to your shifts was a mistake.

Glen tried to stay up and wait for you, but he’d be fast asleep in bed by the time you got out of the shower.

On top of not being able to really see him, you yourself were exhausted. Your body becoming so tired, even sitting down was hard because you’d fall asleep. So instead of sitting down during your shift, you’d stand.

At the end of your shift on Wednesday, you could barely keep your eyes open on the drive back home. And when you did get home, you didn’t even bother getting out of your scrubs before collapsing onto the couch and falling asleep.

“This is normal, mom,” you hear Glen say faintly. “She’s working herself to death and I’m just…I’m worried for her.”

The next morning, you rub your eyes when your alarm blares in your ear. Sitting up from the couch, you race to the shower, peeling off your scrubs from the night before, and quickly showering to wake yourself up.

When you step out of the bathroom, you find Glen standing there with a cup of coffee ready for you.

“Good morning, baby,” he says, kissing you.

“Did I wake you?” You ask, taking the cup and sipping.

“No, I’ve been waking up early to make sure you get everything you need for work,” he tells you.

“Thank you,” you smile. You look down at your watch and sigh. “I have to get going.”

“I packed you lunch and extra clothes so that you don’t have to shower when you get home. Maybe you’ll sleep in the bed tonight?” His eyes are hopeful and you can’t help but feel so bad.

He’s doing all of this for you and yet you’re trying to avoid him—to an extent.

“I’ll try to,” you tell him. “I’ve just been so tired to walk up the stairs.”

“Then I’ll set something up for us before you get home,” he tells you. He kisses you before adding, “I’ll see you later.”

———

You’re halfway into your shift when you get the trauma of the day, maybe even the year.

You’re running, trying to grab the necessary supplies you need for the CPR that’s on its way when you suddenly feel the world begin to spin out from under you.

One second you’re stuffing you pockets with extra flushes and vials for bloodwork, the next your vision is blurring and going black.

When you finally wake up, you’re at the hospital still but in a room. The beeping of the monitor next to you grounds you in reality enough look around the room. Glen sits in a chair on the other side of you, worry and fear painted all over his face.

“Glen?” You croak.

“Oh my god,” he says, turning you and grabbing your hand. “Are you feeling okay?”

“For the most part,” you mumble. “What happened?”

“Kathy told me you fainted from exhaustion,” he tells you. “You shouldn’t have been working so many hours so close together. You could’ve gotten seriously hurt. You’re lucky someone was there to break your fall.”

He sighs, running his hand through his hair before asking, “What were you thinking working so many hours for so long?”

“I don’t know,” you lie.

“Yes you do. Tell me,” he urges.

You sigh, rubbing your eyes before looking at him. “I can’t afford to go to London.”

“I’ll pay for your ticket,” he quickly says.

“Glen, I don’t want you to.” This was going to be hard. “I want to pay for myself.”

“I don’t mind doing it, baby.” He searches your face before adding, “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes,” you answer. You squeeze your eyes shut before opening them and taking his hand in yours again. “I don’t want you to think I’m a gold digger.”

“Why would I think that?”

“Because you pay for everything!” You exclaim. “I don’t think it’s fair that you spend money on me and I can’t do the same for you.”

Glen smiles at you, kissing the inside of your wrist. “Y/N, there’s nothing that makes me happier than paying for everything. If I get to spoil you by taking you to London or paying for our dinners and rent, then that means I’m doing my job. I never want you to feel like you’re freeloading or being a gold digger around me.”

He tilts your head back to face him completely before continuing. “Baby don’t ever feel like that’s what you are because you’re not. I’m so grateful to do it for you. In fact, I love doing it.”

“Are you sure?” You ask.

“Very,” he tells you. “So you can stop with the extra shifts. I already talked to Kathy about giving the rest of the week off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you pull him in for a kiss.

“I love you so much.”

“And I love you more,” Glen says. “But don’t do that again. Please?”

You laugh. “I promise I won’t.”

[heavensoutofsight]

i want you to see (how you look to me) - billie eilish

synopsis: you're hopelessly in love with your best friend, billie, and you're unsure if she feels the same, choosing to keep your distance -- until one fateful night in the studio where your feelings finally boil over.

word count: 3506

tags/warnings: angst if you squint, mostly fluffy, love confessions, mutual pining, best friends to lovers

author's note: GIFT FOR YOUUUU. sorry i took so long to write something LMAO. this was very quickly proofread at 3am. any mistakes are mine! hope you enjoy :) comments/tags/reblogs are always appreciated! (credit for the divider goes to @/cafekitsune)

In the dim light of your bedroom, you scrolled through your phone's photo gallery, feeling your heart constrict at all of the pictures you had with Billie. Some were taken directly after shows, some after particular interviews, and some during a random outing the two of you decided to go on. In many of the pictures, Billie left little to no personal space, her face squished against yours and her arms completely wrapped around you. You missed the times when Billie could touch you like that and it didn't set you aflame – when it didn't make your head spin as you took in her perfume and felt her soft body underneath your hands, her ocean eyes bright and full of mirth as she looked at you.

There was no denying that there was some distance between you and Billie now. And you hated it.

You weren't sure when it happened; when you first started feeling those stupid butterflies around her. When even just the sound of her laugh made your heart soar. If somebody asked you to pinpoint the exact moment you started falling in love with your best friend, you wouldn't be able to – it was all so fuzzy and frankly you didn't think it could be attributed to a single moment anyway. It might have been that one night she slept over and you fell asleep with your head on her shoulder as she sung you to sleep. Or the time the two of you were at her place, making some vegan recipe together, playing loud music and using spoons and forks as microphones, performing for no one but yourselves and giggling profusely at Billie giving you the performance of a lifetime in the comfort of her own kitchen. Or perhaps it was the time she comforted you all night after a breakup, holding you closely and never letting go, her ring-clad hands petting you gently, as if you were made of glass.

Your heart had always belonged to Billie, long before you truly understood your feelings. And now that they were more apparent to you than ever, you simply didn't know what to do.

You knew Bille loved you just as much as you loved her. But did she feel the same fire within her whenever your hands brushed together? Did she feel those same butterflies whenever you laughed at a dumb joke or gave her a bright smile? You couldn't bear even just the thought of pouring your heart out to this woman only for the feeling to not be mutual.

You glanced at the time on your phone screen. It was late. You should've been sleeping but you were just riddled with anxiety instead, too busy imagining up a million hypothetical situations in which you would dramatically confess your feelings. You wish you had the same confidence you had in your daydreams in your real life.

You sighed, scrolling to the very last thing you had in your gallery. It was the most recent video of you and Billie, taken only a few weeks ago. The both of you were in Billie's living room. You couldn't stop the smile that tugged the corners of your lips when Billie came into view as you secretly recorded her in all of her casual glory. Her long hair was down, falling in front of her face in a way that made the breath leave your lungs. She was in an oversized t-shirt, wearing a pair of simple black shorts. She was very focused; her lips forming a pout as she stared down at the notebook in her lap, a pencil in hand.

What started as a small grin evolved into a wide, lovesick smile as you watched Billie look at the camera in the video, finally having caught on to you filming her.

“What the hell are you doing?” Past Billie had asked, a smirk slowly appearing on her face as she eyed you suspiciously. You heard yourself giggle, suddenly aiming your phone camera away from her and poorly trying to appear innocent.

“Nothing.”

“You are a fucking liar,” Billie said playfully, barely able to get the words out through her own series of chuckles.

“I'm not!” Past you exclaimed. Billie just shook her head, scrambling over to you to grab your phone, the both of you erupting into whole-hearted laughter. The last blurry frame of the video was of Billie's smiling face looking at you. You admired her perfect teeth and lips, the shape of her nose, and those damn ocean eyes, far more beautiful than any body of water you'd ever seen.

That familiar fluttery feeling returned to your stomach again.

You shut off your phone and quickly placed it on your bedside table. You rolled over in your bed, still thinking of that video. You were beginning to feel something in your chest. Your heart felt like it was constricting again. You tried to ignore, instead attempting to shift the focus of your thoughts on the weight of your blanket encompassing you, or the gentle sound of whatever random sitcom you had playing on your television for background noise; but your mind always wandered back to Billie. Her smile, her laugh, her touch.

You were deeply, madly in love with Billie Eilish, your best friend, and it was starting to drive you insane. This was not a crush, no, it was more than a crush – it was like a craving, a desire so strong it entirely consumed you.

You were so fucked.

You closed your eyes, desperately just wanting to sleep. You weren't even necessarily physically tired. Just tired of your brain going a thousand miles a minute and constantly thinking about her.

After a few long minutes of battling complete and utter restlessness, you had mentally exhausted yourself enough to the point where you were finally starting to drift off – until you heard your phone go off, which abruptly pulled you away from the brink of sleep. Normally, you would ignore it, but you recognized that notification tone. It was a tone that you specifically gave to Billie, and whenever she texted, you had to answer.

You opened your messaging app, squinting a bit at the brightness of your screen in the dark room.

heyyyy u up

i'm in the studio by myself

feeling lonely as hell

You heard the messages in her voice. You found yourself smiling again, imagining her in her little swivel chair, maybe playing a melody on the piano or strumming a tune on the guitar.

Without wasting a second, you replied.

you: of course i'm up

you: god you can't do anything without me huh?

You chuckled to yourself, watching those three little dots disappear and reappear.

billie: you are absolutely correct

billie: you just really inspire me what can i say

billie: i'm not even joking you really do

You ignored the warmth in your cheeks at her words, opting to play around some more.

you: ew

you: cheesy ass

To that, Billie replied almost instantly:

billie: shut your mouth

billie: ARE YOU COMINGGG

bille: seriously tho i know it's late but we haven't hung out in a while and i kinda miss youuuu or whateverrrr

You didn't respond right away, staring up at your plain white ceiling, releasing a sigh. Your smile faltered a bit.

She missed you. And you missed her. And even though being around her made you feel like you were gonna lose your mind, she didn't deserve to be pushed away.

“You are going to get over your feelings, starting now.” you said to yourself encouragingly, getting out of your bed to meet Billie at her place. You finally threw her a reply back.

you: i'm omw :))))))

______

You didn't knock when you finally arrived since you had the key, but you did make your presence known.

“Bil,” you shouted out. You didn't get a response, but you shrugged it off. She was probably deeply concentrated on whatever lyric or melody she was trying to create. You made your way to the studio, feeling your heart race inside of your chest. As you walked down the stairs and down a hallway, getting closer to the studio door, you felt more and more anxious.

You were going to open the door, your hand resting on the doorknob, but you froze when you heard the soft sound of humming. You leaned in closer, honing in on the gentle sound of Billie's voice, muffled and just barely audible.

“I want you to stay… til I'm in the…” She trailed off. You heard her let out a heavy sigh. That’s when you decided to make your presence known.

You slowly opened the door, quietly enough that Billie hadn’t even turned around in her chair, looking up at the large television screen in front of her, messing around with some music production software that you could never understand. You continued to stand in the doorway, watching as Billie made some small edits within the current song she seemed to be working on. She hit play after making some miniscule changes, the unfinished song softly playing out of the large speakers. As soon as the instrumental filled the room, you felt chills on every inch of your body; it sounded beautiful despite the fact that it wasn’t even done. You’d never get over how lucky you were to be able to hear the early versions of Billie’s songs – it was like being let into a secret world, and it made you feel special that you, alongside her family, got to witness every step of the process.

Eventually, the short snippet of the song had stopped, and Billie leaned back in her seat. Just from her posture you could tell that she seemed defeated, like something about the song just wasn’t right to her. She began humming again, mumbling out some lyrics here and there. You found yourself grinning as you admired Billie in her element, but then you remembered that you still hadn’t announced your presence and that you were just creepily ogling at her from the doorway. You audibly chuckled at yourself which, of course, finally grabbed Billie’s attention.

She spun around in her chair, seemingly startled at first before she realized it was you.

“Jesus Christ,” she started, her adorable laugh filling the quiet studio. “Did you just get here?”

You shook your head, heading over to the couch and making yourself comfortable. “I was standing there for a good few minutes.” You replied with a grin.

“Don't ever do that again – my heart fell into my ass.” She exclaimed, and you let out a loud cackle at that. You grabbed one of the throw pillows next to you and held it in your arms, reclining back into the familiar cushions.

“Okay, won't happen again. Maybe. No promises.” You joked, to which Bille just rolled her eyes playfully.

“Anyway, whatcha workin’ on?” You asked curiously, your eyes going back to the music software she had on the screen.

“The album, obviously.” Billie said with a smirk. Now it was your turn to roll your eyes, not being able to fight the grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Shut up,” you said with mirth. “Which track?”

“It's called Birds of a Feather, it's track 4. It's… pretty shit, right now.”

Your eyes widened in complete and utter bewilderment, your eyebrows shooting up to your hairline.

“Billie, what? I just heard the little snippet you played and it sounded incredible.”

“You say everything I make sounds incredible.”

“Because it's true.” You replied sincerely. To that, Billie gave you a gentle smile, looking down at her lap as if shy at the sudden praise. You felt the sensation of warmth throughout your body at just how endearing she was.

“All you do is gas me up.” Billie replied through a series of chuckles.

“Of course I'm gonna gas up my amazingly talented super star best friend,” You responded. “But… can I ask why you think it's bad?”

Billie sighed, leaning back in her chair again, twiddling her thumbs. “It's just… the lyrics are giving me a hard time. And the instrumental is missing something but I don't know what it is.”

“Can I read the lyrics?” You asked.

At that, Billie looked at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. She seemed hesitant, which was definitely unusual–she always let you read her lyrics and never felt shy about sharing stuff with you.

“Yeah, go ahead.” Bille said after a few long seconds of pondering, but you could still hear the uncertainty in her voice. Curious, your brows furrowed.

“Bil, I understand if it's something you don't wanna share with me yet–”

“No, please,” she said, quickly handing you her journal, already having opened it to the pages that contained the lyrics in question. “You can read it.”

You glanced at her expression one more time as you took the journal, and noticed that this time – she was holding back a smile, biting her bottom lip.

You were equal parts confused and eager to see what Billie seemed a little hesitant to share. You silently began reading what she had written, taking in her adorable, albeit messy handwriting. There were all kinds of scribbles on the page, certain words were crossed out. It was fascinating to you to see her thought process on the page. You loved just how deeply she thought about every word, every sentence.

Eventually, you stopped admiring her crooked letters and side notes and finally began analyzing the lyrics themselves – and when you did, you honestly wanted to cry at how lovely they were.

I want you to stay

Till I'm in the grave

Till I rot away, dead and buried

Till I'm in the casket you carry

If you go, I'm going too

‘Cause it was always you

And if I'm turning blue

Please don't save me

Nothing left to lose

Without my baby

“Billie, these are…” you paused, searching for the right words. “These are so sweet.” You said with a smile, meeting her warm blue eyes that were still trained on your face.

“Thanks.” She replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

As you read some more, a question had crossed your mind. Your eyes trailed off the page as you internally debated with yourself whether or not you should even ask because you were little afraid of what the answer would be.

It was clear to you these lyrics were about someone– they had to be. And the very thought of this song being about someone else in Billie's life made you feel as if there was a heavy weight in your stomach. For a second, you foolishly thought that you'd be able to overcome the feelings you had for Billie. All it took was imagining her with someone else that made those feelings rush back all at once.

You must've been quiet for longer than intended, because Billie spoke up. “Are they actually terrible? Do you hate them and you're trying to figure out how to break it to me?” Billie asked, that playful tone creeping back into her voice.

You chuckled. “They are far from terrible, Bil, it's just…”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat.

“I was just wondering… who's it about?” You asked, feeling unreasonably nervous about her response. You don't even know why, because you had long accepted that there was a possibility she didn't like you like that. You were prepared to be heartbroken – but that didn't mean it wouldn't hurt any less.

But all Billie did was just… laugh.

“Guess.” She said, crossing her arms.

Oh, God. So there is someone else, you thought.

With a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, you said, “How the hell am I supposed to guess? But I'm happy for you, regardless.” You said, trying to be lighthearted, but your voice dropped a bit, possibly revealing your true feelings.

“Okay, do you want a hint?”

You stared at her incredulously. “You seriously want me to guess?”

“Do you want a hint or no?” Billie asked again, ignoring your question. She was smiling widely now, and you were still feeling that pang of sadness that you couldn't quite shake, but you continued to play along anyway.

“Sure. I'll take a hint.” You said.

“Okay,” Billie started. “She's my best friend in the entire world.”

“You have a lot of best friends-”

“Girl, let me finish.” Billie said with a laugh. “She's my best friend in the entire world who's known me my entire life. She's come with me to almost every show, every interview, and has supported me through everything.”

Billie had come a little closer to you now, her tone becoming more sincere with every word.

“When I'm lonely, she comes and visits me in the studio, even when it's ridiculously late. And she always compliments me and never lets me feel bad about anything I make.”

Slowly, but surely, you were beginning to realize something. Her descriptions were becoming more and more specific. Were you being delusional?

“Billie, I… what are you saying?” You asked. Your heart pounded against your ribcage, hard enough you were sure they'd be bruised.

“Still don't know?” She asked, her voice just barely above a whisper.

You shook your head.

“Okay, I'll just tell you then.”

Billie gently cupped the side of your face. You leaned into the touch almost instantly. She was close enough that you could feel her breath on your lips.

“She's right in front of me.” She said with a grin.

You couldn't even process the sentence that just came out of her mouth, frozen in shock and disbelief.

“This song is about me?” You asked quietly, your voice breaking slightly. You felt a stinging sensation in your eyes, all of the emotion brewing within you threatening to spill.

“Do you remember the last time we hung out and you were filming me writing? I was writing this. I was writing this and thinking about you and how much I love you. I realized it as I was just… sitting there. You were laughing at some dumb meme on your phone and I just remember thinking how much I wanted you all to myself.”

You didn't realize you were crying until Billie had wiped away a tear.

“Hey, hey,” Billie said ever so softly, opting to hold both of your hands now. “Why are you crying?”

You laughed a bit through the tears, sniffling a few times before answering. “Because I… can't believe you felt this way the whole fucking time. I was going crazy, Billie.”

Billie let out a loud laugh of her own. It was your favorite sound in the world.

“Sorry. Honestly, I was trying to figure out my own feelings and how to tell you.”

“No, I'm sorry. For pushing you away.” you replied. Billie shook her head.

“Oh my god, stop. You don't have to apologize. It all worked out in the end, right?” She asked.

You smiled. “Yeah. It did.”

For several long seconds, there was a comfortable silence that stretched between the two of you. The both of you were smiling at each other, completely lost in the other's eyes. You didn't miss the way Billie's eyes glanced at your lips.

“Billie.” You spoke.

“Yeah, baby?”

The pet name made your heart soar.

“If you don't fucking kiss me right now–”

Billie didn't even let you finish your sentence, her lips colliding with your eyes in an explosion of pent up feelings and passion. She held both sides of your face in your hands, while yours snaked around her waist. You held onto her like she was gonna disappear any second and kissed her like you were starving.

The kiss started off innocent– but it quickly delved into something a bit more intense when Billie just slightly bit your lip, not enough to cause pain but enough to make you gasp. She introduced her tongue hesitantly, silently asking for your permission, which you granted without a second thought.

At some point, Billie finally got out of her swivel chair and moved to sit down on the couch with you. The two of you had pulled apart briefly for that, and when Billie was seated, her eyes were hooded and she was gazing at you like you were sex on longs. She patted her lap, and liked an obedient dog, you wasted no time crawling into her lap.

“I've dreamt about this.” You said, completely breathless and warm in the face.

“Oh, yeah?” Billie asked with a smirk that had your insides flipping upside down. “What else have you dreamt about?”

“Being able to call you mine.”

At that, Billie smiled. “That's all?”

“No, that's not all, but… I'd rather show than tell…” you trailed off, but it was obvious what you were referring to.

“We are getting out of my brother's basement, right fucking now.” Billie said.

The two of you snuck out of Finneas’ house, hand-in-hand and giggling like little kids in love.

[gingiesworld]

Queen Of My Heart

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Bittersweet Ending, Arranged Marriage. Death

18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3.8K+

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

Wanda Maximoff was everyone’s dream girl, the woman who had the most beautiful eyes, a smile that could brighten even the darkest of days, and a kind heart. Every man wanted her to be their wife, leaving many suitors to keep approaching her father about her hand in marriage.

“There’s another one.” Pietro groaned as he joined Wanda behind the counter of the Apothecary that their parents had owned.

“Why can’t they all just leave me be.” Wanda sighed as Pietro shrugged. “I don’t want to be with any of them, and it’s stupid to think that asking father would help them.”

“I’m sorry, Wanda, but that’s just how it is. No one truly marries for love, they never have.” Pietro told her.

“But that is what I want, I want a partner who makes me smile so effortlessly, I want a connection that isn’t forced, it just flows naturally.” She told him as she organised some of the jars on the shelf, dusting them as she went along. “I want to be with someone who I see a future with, not just for financial gains. Someone who wouldn’t care what we had or didn’t have, I just want that type of love that makes everything in the world seem so superfluous.”

“You mean what you have with Y/N?” He questioned, earning a slap on the arm.

“Shush. Father can’t find out.” Wanda whispered. “He will kill both of us, but yes. I just want to be able to live with them on some farm and grow old with them.”

“Wanda, your mother needs your help in the kitchen.” Mr Maximoff approached the twins, a smile on his face. “We have guests coming over tonight, and a possible suitor for you.”

“Father, I don’t.” Wanda tried only to get cut off by him.

“I don’t care if you want this or not. This is what’s best for this family and your future family.” He told her firmly. “You need to learn to remember your place.” He told her before he left the shop.

“I guess this is it.” Wanda sighed as she gave Pietro the rag. “My life and dreams are officially over.”

“They aren’t.” Pietro tried as Wanda just shook her head before she disappeared towards the kitchen to help her mother.

“I’ve already laid out your best dress.” Mrs Maximoff beamed as she prepared the dough for her bread. “This is so exhilarating, you’re going to be a wife.”

“I don’t want to be a wife.” Wanda told her honestly. “Besides, I don’t know this man either.”

“I didn’t know your father, but I can’t say that I was against marrying him when he asked your grandparents.” Her mother spoke. “But, I can say that over the time I have spent with him, I learned to love him and we then had you and your brother.”

“I don’t want to learn to love. I want it to be natural, just feel it without even spending an unknown amount of uncomfortable time with someone who is only going to help keep father’s business afloat.” Wanda told her honestly.

“There isn’t a choice in this Wanda.” Mrs Maximoff spoke angrily. “You are a woman, this is your womanly duty to provide for a husband and build a family with him.” Wanda sighed and gave up fighting against her mother, knowing she won’t exactly see the situation as Wanda does.

The night soon fell, the Starks were a well respected family in the Westview, Mr and Mrs Stark had two children, Jarvis and Morgan Stark. Given there is a significant age gap between the two siblings, they both remained close. Jarvis being the protective older brother that his sister needed.

“Are you nervous, son?” Mr Stark asked as the carriage came to a stop before the Scarlet Apothecary.

“I am father.” He answered truthfully, having seen Wanda everyday since they were children, falling for her every time he saw her or heard her voice. He loved the sound of her laugh, although he hated that he was never the one who made her laugh. That only fueled his deep hatred for Y/N Rogers, the only one who has ever truly been extremely close to Wanda. Everyone in Westview saw both Wanda and Y/N as best friends, even one of the neighbors would joke saying that the two of them would fall in love and wed.

“It is going to be fine.” Mrs Stark reassured him, making him smile as they all left the carriage, the two gentlemen helping the ladies down the steps. “She would be stupid not to see such a fine man.”

As they approached Maximoff's residence, Wanda was too busy pacing her bedroom, soon moving as fast as she could when she heard her window open, locking her door before she saw Y/N climb inside.

“You know, you could always tell me you don’t need me anymore.” They smirked as Wanda sighed. “We had a date, and you never came and I got worried.” They told her truthfully.

“I’m sorry Y/N/N, but my father.” She tried before her eyes started to fill with tears. “He’s trying to marry me off to someone.”

“He can’t do that.” Y/N stepped closer to her, their arms soon wrapping around her, pulling her into their strong embrace. “That’s not.”

“He can do that.” Wanda sniffled. “It’s not like women have similar rights to men.”

“Well, you should.” They told her firmly. “Everyone is allowed to have the freedom of choice. It shouldn’t matter depending on your gender.”

“I just.” Wanda tried as Y/N ran their fingers through her brown locks.

“I will be here when you’re finished and I can hold you until you fall asleep.” They told her softly.

“But, what about your father?” She asked them, they just shrugged.

“I’m only going to be missing another talk on why I need to uphold the family name and join the military.” They told her, they gently kissed the top of her head before she left the room. As she approached the dining room, she could hear the voices of her father, Pietro and two other men, all of them laughing as the smell of whiskey and tobacco filled the air.

“Here she is.” Mr Maximoff beamed as she stood awkwardly in the doorway. “Wanda, dear, come on in and introduce yourself.”

“Hello.” She spoke quietly, doing a small curtsy before she caught sight of her twin's grin as he tried to hold in his laugh.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Wanda.” Mr Stark spoke as he took her hand in his, pressing a kiss upon her knuckles, she had to try to hide the uncomfortable feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. “Jarvis here has told his mother and myself an awful lot about you.”

“Jarvis?” She questioned as she looked at the tall man beside her twin. “I don’t think we have ever met, I’m sorry.”

“Wanda!” Mr Maximoff scolded her, causing her to flinch at the anger within his tone before Jarvis spoke up.

“It’s perfectly fine.” He told them both with a warm smile. “I know we have never uttered a single word to one another, but I have noticed you Wanda, I have noticed you everyday since you first moved here with your family.”

“Why have you never spoken to her?” Mr Stark questioned as Jarvis shrugged.

“Well, Y/N Rogers seems to always have her attention.” He answered as Mr Maximoff scoffed.

“I don’t care for that Rogers child.” He spoke bitterly. “They are just a military family, and soon enough Mr Rogers will have them shipped off into the next War and then who knows, we may never have to see them again.”

“Father.” Pietro stepped in, seeing how Mr Maximoff’s words had affected Wanda. “Y/N is an amazing friend and they have always been there for Wanda. Did you know they were also the one who had done all of my chores that time when I had broken my leg? I never asked them too, they noticed the amount of extra stress that you put on Wanda and they decided to help. They are always there for her when we are not.”

“Don’t you dare speak out of term to me, boy.” Mr Maximoff seethed as the sound of the slap had silenced the room. “You do not disrespect me in front of our guests, now get out of my sight.” With that, Pietro left the room in a hurry, holding his already bruising cheek.

“I’m going to check on my mother and dinner.” Wanda spoke quietly before she left the dining room. She had hoped that maybe some unfortunate circumstance would happen and they would cancel dinner, but just as she had entered the kitchen, her mother was already bringing out the food.

“We are going to feast like royalty tonight.” Mr Maximoff beamed as he took his seat at the head of the table, opposite Mr Stark. Everyone had soon settled in to take their seats, soon digging in and sharing small conversations.

“I know this may seem forward.” Jarvis spoke as he sat beside Wanda. “Would you like to accompany myself on a stroll through the park on Sunday, after church?”

“I don’t know, I have to help my mother with the shop.” Wanda tried as Mr Maximoff shook his head.

“I can help your mother, you should go on this date.” He told her sternly. “You may never find another fine young man like Jarvis again.” He turned to face Jarvis. “She will be there to accompany you, she will meet you at the park.”

“Thank you, sir.” Jarvis beamed, soon the rest of the evening passed by in a blur, Wanda soon finding herself helping her mother in the kitchen with the cleaning before they all had retired to their bedrooms.

“Hey.” Y/N whispered as Wanda entered her room. “How was it?” They asked as she sat on the edge of her bed after locking her door.

“Awful.” She sighed, running her hands over her face. “My father is all for it and what he said about you.” She stopped herself before she continued.

“I heard.” They told her. “Your father isn’t exactly tactful in trying to be silent about his distaste.”

“I’m sorry.” Wanda whispered as Y/N moved to sit beside her, wrapping their arms around her and pulling her into them.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, darling.” They told her, cupping her cheeks and wiping the tears that had threatened to fall. “I will always be here for you, however and whenever you need me.” Wanda looked into their eyes, seeing how the blue shone in the moonlight, she had always loved their eyes but seeing them in this lighting was something different, and she loved it. It was a sight she wanted to be able to see every night for the rest of her life. She soon leaned in and pressed her lips against theirs, their lips both moving in unison before she snapped back to reality.

“I’m so sorry.” She said as she moved away from them. “I didn’t.” She tried before Y/N cut her off, approaching her, taking her hands in theirs.

“It’s okay.” They gave her a soft smile. “Although, I have to be honest with you.” They sighed before continuing. “I have always wanted to kiss, I can’t quite recall in which moment I began to feel more for you, but I do.” Wanda shook her head in haste, pressing her fingers to their lips.

“Please don’t say it.” She whispered sadly. “As much as I want to hear you say it, I want it to feel amazing and in a moment that is special between the two of us, within a moment that solidifies that our union will be forever.” She moved her finger as she continued. “This isn’t that moment, if I hear you say those words I so desperately want to hear right now, it will shatter my already broken heart.”

“I’m sorry.” They told her before they stepped away from her slightly. “I uh, I should take my leave now.”

“Please stay.” Wanda pleaded as they moved towards her window. “I need you to hold me, just for tonight.” And that was indeed the start of the pair’s internal struggles. Y/N hated seeing Wanda accompanying Jarvis everywhere, ever since their stroll in the park, her father had urged her to go on more outings with her husband to be. She would even see as Y/N would pass her by in the street, her heart breaking little by little, just as theirs was breaking. Knowing that in this lifetime they will never have the life they had always dreamed about when they were just children.

“You can’t seriously think you can make a name for yourself with these knick knacks.” Mr Rogers scolded as he approached Y/N who was happily carving pieces for a new chess board.

“I don’t think that father.” They answered him. “This is merely something that brings me peace and tranquility.”

“I have arranged a meeting with my old Senior Officer.” He told them as he picked up a rook, looking at it between his fingers, a look of disdain on his face. “He will help with getting you set for joining the services.”

“I don’t.” Y/N told him, placing down their chisel and the King they were carving.

“I do not care what you do or don’t.” Mr Rogers seethed, throwing the rook far into the field before he gripped Y/N up to their feet by the scruff of their collar. “You have a family name to respect, we are a military family and you will follow the path that I have laid out for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Y/N spoke flatly, their eyes never leaving their father’s who then started to straighten out Y/N’s clothes.

“I will see you at supper.” He told them before he left, Y/N watching as he disappeared out of the field, not realizing that Wanda was approaching them.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” She questioned urgently as she approached them, watching as they soon turned to face her.

“I’m fine.” They grumbled as they sat back down in their spot, grabbing their tools to finish carving the King.

“I found this.” Wanda held out her hand, the rook in which Mr Rogers had just thrown.

“Thank you Wan.” They smiled at her, her own smile widening at the nickname she had missed so much. “How are things with Jarvis?” They asked her, an edge of bitterness in their tone.

“I don’t like him.” She told them honestly as she sat down beside them, watching as Y/N’s hands worked on the small wooden figurine. “I can see that he likes me, but I just, I don’t think I will ever like him in that way.”

“But, this is what your father wants for you and your family’s future.” Y/N reminded her as she just shook her head.

“My father only wants the financial benefactors that come with this arrangement, he couldn’t care less about the family.” Wanda told them, before she turned to watch their face as theY concentrated. “I just want to be able to be with the one person who I am truly in love with freely, without any judgment from my father.”

“And how do you suggest you do that?” Y/N questioned, their attention soon turning to her, their faces close as they could feel her breath on their lips.

“I don’t know.” Wanda whispered, her eyes flashing between both their eyes and their lips. That kiss they had both shared, never really left her mind since the night it happened. “I just, I know what I want, I know who I want but I just.”

“Have to live up to our parents' expectations of us.” Y/N finished for her, their faces had somehow moved closer, their noses brushing one another. “I understand that perfectly.” They whispered sadly. “I want nothing more than to be able to remain here, marry the one woman whom I have only ever seen within my future and start a family with her.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” Wanda questioned, not anticipating Y/N rising to their feet and stepping away from her, creating some distance.

“I think you know exactly what is stopping me.” They told her, Wanda soon followed suit and stood before them, taking a slow step closer.

“I want to hear it from you.” She told them firmly. “I want you to tell me.” She watched as Y/N closed their eyes, clenching their fists as they gathered themselves before they moved towards Wanda, faster than she had anticipated, she was pushed up against the tree.

“Because you are marrying another, and I’m clearly not worthy of such love nor a future with you.” They told her sadly, Wanda’s hand reaching up to cup their face. “It’s you, Wanda. It’s always been you.” They confessed, both of their hearts beating rapidly before Wanda soon pressed her lips against theirs, kissing them with such passion as Y/N pushed their body up against her own. Wanda moaned at the feeling of their tongue slipping through her parted lips, Y/N’s hand gripping the fabric of her dress, trying to steady themselves, trying to fight the urges they had. “We should stop.” Y/N whispered, after finding the strength to pull away. “This is wrong.”

“It doesn’t feel wrong.” Wanda whispered, Y/N’s head rested against hers as neither of them attempted to move away from the other. “This.” She held one of their hands in her own against her chest, allowing Y/N to feel how fast her heart was beating. “This is right, this is what it should be, but.”

“But you belong to another.” Y/N spoke sadly, their eyes glistening as they filled with tears.

“My heart is yours.” Wanda told them. “It doesn’t matter who I am with or wherever I am, my heart will always be yours. I’m just sorry that we couldn’t have the life we wanted in this lifetime.”

“I promise you that I will always find you in the lifetimes that shall follow this one.” Y/N told her confidently. “Maybe, in one of those lives, we will finally have our story written.”

“How can you be sure?” Wanda questioned, her eyes taking in Y/N’s for what she never knew would be the last time.

“My heart will beat as fast as it is now when it is in your presence.” They told her softly. “My heart will always know when it’s home. You are my home.” Wanda pressed a soft kiss to their lips before the two pulled away.

“But, what about now?” She asked them as they sighed.

“I want nothing more than to run away with you and start our story, but we both have our obligations here.” They reminded her. “You’re getting married, and Jarvis is a rather nice gentleman, he will look after you.”

“But, I want you.” Wanda tried, feeling disappointment as Y/N stepped away, feeling the loss of their warmth against her form.

“In the next life, we will have our happy ending.” They told her as they started to pick up their tools and chess carvings. “Besides, I have a family obligation I need to uphold.”

“Join the military and get yourself killed.” Wanda scoffed as Y/N sighed, observing Wanda as she wrapped her arms around herself, tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

“With every passing day we are dying, we are dying from the moment we were conceived.” Y/N told her. “It’s what we make of time we have that makes it count, and I can say that since the moment you came into my life, you made the sun shine brighter, the colours more vibrant than ever.” They continued before Wanda interrupted them.

“Don’t.” She spoke firmly, struggling to stop the emotions from falling through. “I am not going to say goodbye to you. I can’t ever say goodbye. Not to you.” She whispered as her tears slipped. “You aren’t leaving me. I won’t let you.” Y/N took a shaky breath before they approached her, only just within arms reach.

“We have to part ways, but I will always carry you in my heart.” They picked out the Queen and King in which they had carved. “You will always be the Queen of my heart. Always and forever.” They handed the small figurines to her, watching as she held them both close to her heart. “I will always remember you, Wanda and I will always hold you in my heart, until it stops beating.”

“I can’t.” She cried as Y/N pressed a lingering kiss to her head.

“You don’t have to say goodbye.” They told her softly. “Just promise me that you will continue to live your life, have a family of your own. I know Jarvis isn’t exactly the one you want to have a future with, but when you have your own children, that love you feel will be greater than any love story in history, because you will do anything for them, you will make sure they get to live the life they choose, they get to love whomever they fall in love with. Let them live the future neither of us had the chance to experience.” Wanda only nodded before she watched them leave, her sobs soon falling harder as they had disappeared. Wanda had never anticipated that that moment was the last moment she had ever shared with Y/N, especially on that night when they had returned home to find Mr Rogers drunk and hitting their mother. Y/N had jumped in to defend her, only to be beaten to death by their drunk father. Once the news had traveled about their death, Wanda had grieved for them, she had felt like her heart had been ripped from her chest, hoping that maybe if she had convinced them to sleep with her under the stars for one last time, they would still be here, but all she could do was honour their final wish they had had for her, to live her life and build a family of her own, giving her own children the opportunity of freedom, away from the family’s expectations. As much as she hated it, Y/N was right about Jarvis, he was a good man, a good husband and father to their children. It wasn’t exactly the life that she had envisioned for herself, but she was happy, she had built herself a family, taking away her own parents expectations of her own twins, allowing them to follow their dreams, something in which Wanda was never given the opportunity to do.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...

May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .

(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)

How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.

His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.

His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.

In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.

A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.

You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.

The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.

You two really did a lot together?

///

You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.

But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life. 

But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.

You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...

///

"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"

"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"

Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.

Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?

One day, he finally knew the answer.

When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner. 

When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.

"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"

Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.

"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."

And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!

"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"

The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.

"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"

You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.

"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"

He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.

"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"

You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.

"You...you won't?"

"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"

"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."

"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"

"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."

"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"

"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."

He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth. 

"Say, do you like these horses?"

"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"

"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"

///

And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.

He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.

And so rumors started to spread. 

The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.

Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.

But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.

One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.

He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.

So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!

"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"

"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"

He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.

"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"

And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...

Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.

It was the first time in his life.

///

"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.

"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."

"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"

"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.

"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"

"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"

And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.

///

He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!

And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.

You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.

When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.

In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.

But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.

///

"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"

"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear." 

He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.

"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"

Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.

You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.

And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.

///

When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.

You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.

"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"

"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"

Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!

When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.

When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.

"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"

"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"

And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...

And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.

When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.

///

"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"

His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.

"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"

Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.

"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."

"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."

///

And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.

Not against Erlang Shen.

When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.

When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.

Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...

But he played against more capable opponents.

///

You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.

"You're hurting yourself more..."

"WAIT until I break free!"

"You won't..."

"Are you doubting me?! "

You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.

"Where are you going?! Stop!"

"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."

"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"

When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.

"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."

He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.

"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.

"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"

///

As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.

Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.

With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.

For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.

And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.

But your story was short-lived, you guessed. 

///

Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.

He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.

He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo. 

"Shhhh...sleep..."

Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.

"Wukong, I had... a dream."

"A Dream? It was good?"

"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."

He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."

He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.

"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."

"Where are you going?"

"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."

You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.

And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.

He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.

///

He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.

But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?

He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.

How ironic and unkind...

He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.

You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.

It's fine. That's enough. No more.

In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.

He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.

And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.

He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l @rootin-tootin-morgan

[annwrites]

— cregan stark quotes ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚⋆ | read

❝Whatever man marries you should be aware of just how blessed he is to have you to take to wife. By all the Gods—Old and New. And for you to, much more, one day be the mother of his children? I cannot imagine a finer fate. For if he does not realize it, he is wholly unworthy of having you.❞

❝I have questioned it: destiny. If it does exist, or if our lives are simply a series of choices we are forced to make day-by-day. But then I think of the Gods. The beauty of our world. The mysteries. The stories and legends.❞

❝Perhaps our destiny is something that chooses us, then, and not the other way around. At least for some. Others... We are forced to carve our own path. But, for those that remain, unable to see a way forward—mayhaps they have a helping hand guiding them closer. Until they finally find whatever it is that has been waiting for them. And that hand leaves—them able to then forge ahead on their own, the path before them lain plainly.❞

❝I would never betray your trust. I consider it a gift—a privilege, even—you sharing such hard truths with me.❞

❝What sort of man would I be if I let you sit there and shiver against the cold while I stay warm? It grieves me to think of you catching a chill while under my protection. Even if it would, mayhaps, keep you in my company longer.❞

❝She was ill-equipped for northern weather. I misliked seeing her cold and shivering. It pleases me to see her, instead, warm, and looked after by mine own hand.❞

❝I know my duty. As Lord of Winterfell, but much more, Warden of the North. Hard times call for hard sacrifices. For difficult acts. I will do what must be done. Not just because it is what is expected of me, but to honor my forebears, my name, my people, and kingdom. Any duty, great or small, is to be looked upon as a privilege. Not a burden. As a Stark, we do what we do in the name of honor—of what is true—instead of doing it out of personal benefit, or for some form of political gain.❞

❝It would grieve me to have you injured when I am so near to prevent it.❞

❝Then I am yours to confide in whenever your mind feels troubled and your worries too much to bear.❞

❝Are you warm enough, Princess? Should I fetch further comforts for you?❞

❝So, let us prevent it: our mutual agony of losing what can so easily be ours. Agree. Take my hand. And remain in the North where you belong. By my side, where you belong. You said once that the North felt like home to you. Princess—Y/N—you feel like home to me. So do not take yourself from me in the name of a fleet of ships or a small army. I beg of you.❞

❝I will give you the might of the North—and you, the title of Lady of Winterfell and Wardeness of the North. I can think of no one more deserving.❞

❝I mean to have you with child sooner than late.❞ (...) ❝And many times thereafter.❞

❝I will not be liable to control myself once your body begins to change as my child grows inside of it.❞ (...) ❝I would not deprive you of my seed, or myself of you.❞

❝I would place his head at your feet in retribution.❞

❝Gods, if only you knew what it is like to make love to you.❞

❝The two of us shall be in death as we were in life—ever-together. Place us by one another’s sides, for I shall not rest, if we are parted, as she was my peace.❞

❝I hardly intend for there to be a moment where you are not heavy with my offspring, as you well know.❞

❝I should’ve known the first time I set eyes upon you I’d be reluctant to ever tell you no in anything.❞

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Less 📱☕️

Alexia Russo x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

summary :

You meet your online girlfriend "Less", only to discover she's secretly Alessia Russo, the famous footballer.

You sat in the café, sipping your drink, glancing nervously at the clock. Today was the day you were finally meeting her, the girl you had been talking to for months. She went by the name "Less" online, and you had hit it off from the start. It felt like you could talk to her about anything, and she had this charm that was impossible to resist.

But there was one thing that always nagged at you: Less never sent many personal photos. Sure, you had seen a few selfies here and there, but they were always casual, nothing overly revealing of her life. She claimed to be a private person, which you respected. After all, she made you feel safe enough to open up, and that was all that mattered, right?

You stared out the window, lost in thought when you heard the café door open. You turned instinctively, and your heart nearly stopped. Walking in was someone you never expected to see in a place like this.

Alessia Russo

You recognized her immediately. She was one of the brightest stars in women’s football, and you had seen her play countless times. But what was she doing here?

Before you could process the situation, she looked right at you, her eyes lighting up. She smiled, a smile you knew all too well. Your heart skipped a beat, confusion flooding your mind as Alessia Russo, the Alessia Russo, made her way toward your table.

“Y/N?” she asked softly, her voice familiar yet completely shocking.

You blinked, struggling to connect the dots. “Less?”

She grinned sheepishly, her hands stuffed into her jacket pockets. “Surprise.”

You sat there, speechless, your brain trying to catch up with what was happening. Less, the girl you had been talking to for months, your online girlfriend, the one who you thought was just a regular person, was Alessia Russo, one of the biggest football stars in the world.

“I... I don’t understand,” you stammered, your thoughts a jumbled mess. “You’re... you’re Alessia Russo?”

She shifted on her feet, a hint of nervousness in her expression. “Yeah, I know. I should’ve told you sooner, but I didn’t want you to see me as... well, as ‘Alessia Russo the footballer,’ you know? I wanted you to get to know me.”

You stared at her, still processing the fact that the Alessia Russo was standing in front of you, the girl you’d grown close to, the one you’d shared so many personal moments with. And now, she was telling you she had been hiding this huge part of her life.

“I wanted to meet you like this, in person, so I could explain,” Alessia continued, sitting down across from you. “I’ve never done this before. I didn’t want my job or my career to change the way we talked.”

You could see the sincerity in her eyes, and it was hard to stay mad if you were even mad at all. Mostly, you were just shocked.

“So, all this time, you were hiding this?” you asked quietly, trying to make sense of it.

She nodded, biting her lip. “Yeah. It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you, I just didn’t want it to affect the way you saw me. I love football, but I wanted you to get to know Alessia, not ‘Russo.’”

You sat there, staring down at your coffee, feeling a mixture of emotions. It was hard to be angry, because in a way, you understood. Being Alessia Russo meant she had the world’s eyes on her. She didn’t get to live like a normal person most of the time, and she probably feared that once people knew who she was, everything changed.

“I get it, I think,” you said after a long pause. “It’s just... a lot to process. I didn’t think I’d be meeting a famous footballer today.”

Alessia chuckled softly, looking relieved that you weren’t storming off. “I’m still the same person you’ve been talking to for months, though. I still care about you the same way, and nothing’s changed in that department.”

You met her eyes, despite the shock, this was still the girl you had fallen for. The person who had made you laugh on long nights, who had listened when you needed to vent, who had shared parts of herself with you. That hadn’t changed.

“So... you’re not just some random girl who likes football,” you said, a small smirk tugging at your lips.

She laughed, her shoulders relaxing. “Yeah, I guess not. I was going to tell you. I just wasn’t sure how.”

You leaned back in your chair, still processing everything but feeling a lot less overwhelmed. “It’s a bit crazy, but I guess I can’t be mad. You’re still my Less.”

Alessia’s smile grew wider, the tension finally easing between you two. “Exactly. And I’m really glad you came today. I’ve been wanting to see you in person for so long.”

Despite the whirlwind of emotions, you couldn’t help but smile back. “I’ve been wanting to see you too. Even if you did leave out one tiny detail.”

She laughed, looking at you with that soft, affectionate gaze you had come to know through your video calls. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

You shook your head, feeling the tension drain from your shoulders. “You better. But... I think I can forgive you, Alessia or should I still call you Less?”

“Call me Less” she said, reaching across the table to take your hand.

You squeezed her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch, and smiled softly.

[georgiapeach30513]

Much Too Fast, Part 5

Summary: it's time for everyone to talk

Pairings: Curtis X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, Curtis and Tati arguing, flashing, sexual tension/frustration, skinny dipping, wet/dry humping, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 6.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And say please,” Poet slams her hands on the high chair, screeching, and you shake your head no. “Poe, you have got to say please,” your voice is still so soft, but the sweet baby slams her hands on the high chair, screaming out no.

“Poet!” Poet looks at Tati, puckering out her bottom lip, looking up at you sympathetically. Tati’s patience with Poet was virtually nonexistent, “I am tired, and I don’t want to listen to this screaming!” Poet lifts her hands up, making grabby hands up at you. Big drops of tears hug her lash line, and she softly whispers please. You didn’t want her to say please because of screaming. But you will hold her when she needs comforting.

Tati massages her temples. Circling her fingers over and over the area, paying you no mind, so you pull Poet out of her high chair. Shushing her as you bounce her around. The rules never seem to make sense when Tati is here. She wants Poet to learn to be independent, but when she’s here she just wants her daughter to be appeased as long as she’s quiet. Whatever it takes to keep her from making noise.

“Tati?”

“What?” You hold Poet even tighter at her mom’s harsh word. She never looks at you; just stays preoccupied with nursing her tender head.

“Can I ask you a question?” A question made things seem mild. You had so many questions to ask her, and none of which involved her daughter. You second guess this conversation because it truly wasn’t any of your business, but Curtis had made it your business. Over and over again he has made it your business because he is too persistent and needy, and dammit, you’re cracking.

Her arms slam on the table, and she glares at you. Her beady perfectly lines eyes bore holes into yours for daring to try and talk to her. For someone who’s head hurts, she’s being painfully noisy with that slap on the wood. She looks so irritated that you’re talking to her that you nearly change your mind. “Are you wanting a raise or something?”

“No.”

“No? Hmm, well, fine, I’ll give you a raise,” now she massages the bridge of her nose, ignoring you yet again. So you clear your throat, “What is it now?”

“My questions,” she moves her hand from her nose, glaring at you again. Clearly multiple questions isn’t something she wants to entertain. “I’m sorry, it’s just one question,” why did you fear her? Was it because she held a lot in her hands? “Umm, it’s probably none of my business.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t ask it. Grace, can you just spit it out. I really don’t have time for this. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and ready to take a nap,” that’s what she’s always doing here. You’re aware that you’re the nanny, but who was the mother?

“I’m very confused with yours and Curtis’ dynamics and relationship.”

Tati snorts, shaking her head. Her manicured fingers roll over the table before she looks at them like she’s bored. “That isn’t a question. But I should have figured. My husband is a very traditionally attractive man. But he’s stunted,” what a weird fucking thing to say about that man that spends more time with her daughter than she does. “I know there’s a lot of things about him that you may find attractive, but you deserve better.”

That took a turn. She didn’t know that you knew about her not even finding Curtis attractive sexually. She didn’t know that you knew that she had another life with a woman. You almost have a feeling she’s in love with that woman, and you’re falling for Curtis, but didn’t feel comfortable with this predicament. You didn’t want to share, you wanted him all to yourself. And Poet.

“No, I don’t love that man,” rude. There’s something that sits so grossly in your stomach about ‘that man’. That is the father of her beautiful daughter. And one she didn’t spend much time with. One that was tapping on your arm, and smiling up at you. “Curtis and I have never even been in love. This was a mistake. I got to go,” she pushes her chair back, standing abruptly before those stilettos click out of the kitchen.

There had to be some form of warmth that she possessed at some point for Curtis to have been friends with her. But now all you see is stress, and disdain for her life here at this house. Bitterness always coats her face and actions. She slams the door behind her, and Poet looks up at you gasping with a smile before she throws both hands up, “Yay!”

“You’re rotten, you know that?”

“Yep. Uh!” She looks out the back door, and to the pool. She loves swimming and spending the days outside. She’d swim in her float or your arms all day. Tati didn’t give you any clear indications on where you were with things. She didn’t give much at all other than she wasn’t in love, and Curtis wasn’t worth the time for you. And you didn’t believe that at all. You see how he loves his daughter, and know he has so much more love to give to a partner.

There is a part of you that wants to take Tati’s advice because this is a complete mess. It’s a disaster area. But you know what you feel when you’re with him. You know the way he looks at you, and smiles at you. And you love his daughter. This is all much too fast, and you didn’t know how to slam the breaks on it, but maybe you weren’t meant to.

Tati gave you absolutely no answers other than she didn’t love Curtis. She might not have told you that they didn’t have sex, but judging by her answers, you doubt she does anything with Curtis. But…dammit, you feel so conflicted. An ache sits in your stomach because you are too attached. You want him, and Poet, and want to go on a date, and not be hidden out here while she galivants around the world with her girlfriend. You want to be proud to be with Curtis.

“Poe Poe, if you eat your breakfast, we can go swimming, okay?”

“Tay,” she makes her sweet grabby hands for her plate, and you place her back in the high chair. “Pes!” she’s learning manners, and that’s more than you can say for her horny dad or hateful mother.

Tati’s car is in the garage. Your car is here. And there’s a very cute distinctive giggle coming from the pool. His kryptonite. And now you’ve brought his daughter into it. He sighs, walking out of the garage and to the back of the house. Stopping at the fence to stare at you slightly splashing Poet just to make her giggle.

Her chunky little legs kick about, causing her tube to spin around, and then you pick her up out of the tube. You lift her above your head, fully standing up out of water, and his mouth falls open. Poet giggles down at you, as streams of water flow down your curves. You’re too sexy to be holding his daughter.

And then you squat back down into the water, taking Poet with you, and she splashes around. Continuing to giggle, and smile up at you. She crashes her mouth into you kissing your jawline. Having a time of her life in the dreaded pool. The bane of his existence. This is bad. Great, and amazing. But bad. Too many feelings and emotions course through his bloodstream. Warmth and passionate heat.

He looks down at his pants, taking a deep breath, and telling himself that he would really like to join in the family swimming time, so he needs to calm down. Inhale and exhale. Relax, and get your fucking mind out of the gutter. Who knew he had a goddamn breeding kink because all he can think about is enjoying fucking a baby into you. Not accidentally, but pumping you full of him every night until it stuck. He’s a disgusting man.

Once he’s centered himself, he slings the gate open, and Poet screams at him, “Dada!”

“Hey, baby. Do you mind if I change and come swim with you and Grace?”

“Yay!”

“I was wondering when you were going to come inside the gate, instead of lingering out there watching us,” his tongue slowly exits his mouth, and he traces his luscious bottom lip with it. Pulling the lip back in his mouth where he bites on it. Smirking and shrugging while walking to his bedroom. “He’s a menace,” a fucking menace that makes you squeeze your thighs together, and regulate your breathing because you’re holding a baby, and can’t do anything about the need to touch and rub on him.

Poet giggles, blowing raspberries and points all over the pool. Telling you, in her way, where she wants to swim to. You ferry her around the pool, letting her splash along the way. The happiest baby you’ve ever met, and when she playfully gasps, and looks towards her dad’s room, that smile gets even bigger.

Curtis and his hairy tits jog to the diving board, and he dives it. Swimming under water towards you, and you back away, “Dada go?” Poet looks at the dark figure that travels in the water, until he pops up right in front of her face. He grabs onto your hips, keeping you in place, and she begs for him to hold her. “Dada!”

“Hey, baby girl. Come ‘ere,” reaching for her he makes sure to give your side more than too much of a touch. He skims his hands from your hips up your side, and you bite back a whimper. That devilish grin pops up as he stares so intently at you. “What have you and Grace been doing today? Just being water babies?” She smiles, laughing up at him.

“You got home early.”

“I liked what I was coming home to,” silence. You can’t respond to that without sounding like a twittering school girl, or a hateful bitch. He sure knows how to lay things on thick, and it just makes you weak. In an alternative life, you can imagine him coming home, and being all excited while you playfully flirt, and still have fun with the kids. You can see him smacking your ass playfully, while the kids are too busy to see their parents are setting up the long foreplay for the night.

Having hours of buildup, until each and every one of the kids are asleep, and Curtis and you lock the door, and have fun with each other’s bodies. It seems so easy, and yet this situation is a mess. Tati at least let you know that there aren't any lingering feelings with Curtis.

“I spoke with your wife today,” you begin. Curtis dips his mouth underwater, pretending to play with Poet, but he’s watching you. Too much. “She confirmed about not having any feelings. But she didn’t seem to think too highly of you, and that makes me confused.”

“Probably because I wasn’t enough to make her straight, because being attracted to women is who she is, and it’s easier to blame other people than accept that, and there’s no one at fault here. Tati being in love with a woman shouldn’t hurt anyone. The issue is that it has stalled me from moving on with you. It’s not fair to Monica either. It’s not fair to Poe because this baby knows that while her mom wouldn’t hurt her, she doesn’t want to be a full time part of her life. And I don’t think she enjoys her very much,” you can confirm that. But he already knows.

You wade the water. Making circles around his body, and he spins right along with you. Looking between you and Poet. “I’m crazy, but this feels right. Playing in the pool with my two favorite girls. Staring at your nipples poking through your bathing suit.”

“Curtis!” the bastard laughs as you circle your hands over your chest. “You are holding a baby.”

“She can’t really talk now.”

“Is all our conversations going to end up in the perverted realm of things?” Is there more than this burning desire to just fuck each other? Or is the need to have each other shadowing anything else?

“No,” you raise your eyebrows in a challenge. “No, but I think sex should be fun. I think that life is too serious, and why can’t I shamelessly flirt with a girl I find attractive?” That’s not flirting, and he knows it. That is being a horny devil.

“I don’t want that serious of a relationship with someone. I’ve done the five star restaurants, and the dinners with family and it’s this big ordeal. I don’t want that. I want to have fun. I want to be able to joke with you,” that boyish grin fades a moment. “This house is beautiful, and perfect in its way, but I don’t need this. I do like this pool.”

“Do you?” You couldn’t tell he liked it at all…

“Yeah,” his voice is menacingly low. And you feel it right to your core. You wade further away from him. Keeping your hands low in the water. It’s wrong, and you know it is. But sometimes a little teasing never hurt anyone. Poet is paying attention too much attention to her dad’s beard. That beautiful face of hair. A face that you would like to ride, and instead you’re going to rub one out alone. Again.

You grab a side of the gusset of your panties, moving it to the side. But you think twice about it, and pull it back to cover yourself. Had he not had that sweet baby in his arms, you would have asked him to look under the water. He makes you want to sin in too many ways.

“It’s hard to try and figure out what is acceptable when there’s a baby between us. But you can try that again tonight. When you meet me out here after Poet’s put to bed,” he stalks towards the shallow end of the pool. Backing you up. Up. And up, until you collapse on the stairs. “I’d really like to see what I’ve been missing. Without touching that is.”

“On one condition,” your voice is so hoarse, and you try to keep some decency. You’re too weak when it comes ot him.

“Anything.”

“You talk to Tati tonight. She can’t hold your feelings hostage forever. And I don’t want to wait on you forever. I’m greedy and I want you right now.”

Poet splashes and splashes, reaching towards you before Curtis relinquishes her into your arms. “What if…what if I talk to her, and she doesn’t like my ultimatum? Because I think she knows.”

“Knows what?” You know what time it is. If Tati is going to be here, she’s already here, and about to have her takeout delivered. She could already be walking to the door. Maybe she’s peeked outside the window, wondering what the noise was. Right now you didn’t care. You’re willing to break all the rules for just a kiss. Just a chance of normalcy for a moment.

You know exactly what he’s talking about as he gets closer. Looming over you with that giant stature, and ignoring Poet pulling down your top and exposing yourself. Curtis puts his nose right on yours, and you forget how to breathe. Have to focus on the rise and fall of his chest because you’re breathing is irregular.

“She knows I’m finally falling for someone. She knows that this has been a slow road, because she knows normally, I just fuck and move on. That’s why she chose me,” he pulls your top to cover your body again. “She thought I’d never ask for a divorce.”

You swallow deeply. Ignoring the door closing. He wanted to get caught, so he can have a discussion with her. “So are you asking for a divorce?”

“You said I have to if I want to be with you,” Curtis stands up, reaching for his daughter, and you hand her off. Letting him walk out of the pool. “And I want to actually try something real for once, so I want to be with you.”

You let out a long breath. Watching as he walks into his room with Poet. Surely going to dry both of them off, and dress so they can join Tati for dinner. Your chest heaves as you let the intensity of that moment wash over you. It leaves you in such a weird spot because Tati is your employer. And here you just were ready to flash her husband your cunt, while he held her daughter. You are losing all self control and self respect for yourself.

Curtis is making you crazy. Imagining that you and him were a normal couple that didn’t start off as a stranger fucking you within an inch of your life. What were you doing? You were risking everything. All of your morals. Ready to throw everything away for him. For this. To make this thing work. What the fuck? How was Tati even going to respond to that?

Whether you’re the one with Curtis or — you hate to think about it being someone else, but either way, it wasn’t fair. He deserves the chance at someone more than sex. And he’s somehow chosen you, and it makes you lightheaded. You’re horny and pent up as fuck. But you like him. Like his daughter, and in order for this to work, you do need to show some decorum and just wait.

Sighing, you get up out of the pool yourself. You need food. Probably alcohol. But definitely food. And to fuck yourself, so you’re not so fucking horny when you meet Curtis at the pool when the lights go outside. That pool is an aphrodisiac. You get in it and you need body parts touching. Ugh! Why is this so hard to not be such a slut with him? You’re horny. You’re just horny. It has nothing to do with actually having feelings for him.

Nope. Not you. Food. Come. Alcohol. Make yourself come again? How many times would it take so you’re not ready to jump on top of Curtis and ride him like your life depended on it? Alcohol. Just a little, not a lot. You can do this. You and Curtis were going to talk, and see where this goes. That’s all. That’s absolutely all you were going to do. Yep.

Curtis’ fingers roll on the table, and he looks at Poet. Then at the table. Then his Chinese takeout. Then his chopsticks. Then back to Poet. Everywhere but his ‘wife’. And Tati just glares at him. Chewing her food slowly, and being too aggressive with the chopsticks.

Watching the coward as he blatantly ignores her. After the conversation with you this morning, she could tell you wanted to fuck her husband. And judging by the two of you in the pool, he wanted to fuck you, too. Asshole. How dare he dishonor the marriage like that. He didn’t care about how it made her look. He just needs to get his dick wet.

She knows she’s being ridiculous, and Curtis knows about Monica. He’s met Monica. Actually likes her. But he is sneaking behind her back. He’s probably snuck right into that pool house, and fucked you already. Walking around, and pretending that he’s never touched you. Jerk. He’s such a pig headed man.

She lays her chopsticks on the side of her bowl, places her elbows on the table, and then rests her chin on her arms. That sickeningly sweet business smile spreads over her face, but lacks any warmth. “How long have you been fucking the nanny?”

Curtis doesn’t look away from Poet at first. He gives her another bite of food before his attention goes back to Tati, “Let’s not do this in front of our daughter.”

“Oh, I know she’s our daughter. I carried her for nine fucking months, because you couldn’t pull out properly.”

“And now you fuck Monica.”

“And you’re fucking that girl!” Tati’s voice is shrill as she losing control, but Curtis’ remains collected.

“Do not call her a girl! And, no. I’m not fucking her. I have fucked her,” Tati gasps, causing Curtis’ eyes to roll in the back of her head. “Yes, Tati, it was before I even knew her. It was supposed to be a one night stand with a girl that picked me up on the side of the road.”

“You’re lucky to be alive! Poet could have lost her father, and then…”

“You’d have to actually be a mother?” Her hand slams on the table, and Curtis stands up quickly when Poet’s lip puckers out, “We’re done with this conversation since you can’t be an adult.”

“You’re cheating on me!” He chuckles, pulling Poet out of her high chair, and he holds her close to him. Letting her lay her head against his chest.

“No, I’m not. We’re not together. Just legally, and I’m — I’m filing. I’ve been patient, Tat, but you’re living a life, and I’m not. I’ve met an amazing woman, and we can’t even move forward because of this shame of a marriage. We were always supposed to be friends. Things went way too far, and now we’ve even lost our friendship. We’re roommates that share a child.”

Tati worries her lip, something she only did during deep thought, so it gives Curtis enough reason to sit down. She’s at least considering his words. He waits on her to work through everything, as long as she wasn’t raising her voice and causing Poet distress, he could be here. He reaches over to his daughter’s plate, grabbing her something to nibble on. He smiles at her, as she gnaws on her dinner..

“Tater tot.”

“Don’t call me that,” her voice is short, but it doesn’t raise, and her eyes linger on the immaculate table. “I thought we had a deal?” Tati being an only child is used to having things her way. Everything always worked out for her.

“That I stay married to you forever, when a woman that I may be in love with can never be my wife? You thought I was forever going to be slut, so that’s why you thought this stupid agreement would work forever. How does Monica feel about being your dirty secret?”

“I love her,” the confidence Tati exudes disappears, and her shoulders slump. He sounds just like Monica.

“Not enough. You roam around the world on your little vacations, but she doesn’t go to family dinners. She doesn’t have a relationship with Poet, and I told her she should,” Tati’s nose scrunches up, shaking her head no. “Can you at least say it?” She shakes her head no faster. Covering her eyes with her hand. “Tati. Just tell me, and we can move forward. Your therapist said you have to admit it.”

“I sound like a terrible person,” no, right now she sounds like a terrible person. Curtis wouldn’t hold those words against her.

“It’s only terrible if we continue this dance. I can take care of her,” Tati whispers something, but Curtis doesn’t hear her. “Tati, say it. Step one.”

“I love her in my way.”

“I know you do.”

“I’d never hurt her.”

“I have never thought you would.”

“Does,” Tati sniffles, looking up at Curtis instead of the table. Glancing at her daughter with a smile, “Does she want kids?”

“I’ve never really asked. I think so,” he knows you do. You’re a perfect mom, and you deserve a child’s firsts.

“You know I can’t just tell my parents?” Curtis shrugs. He didn’t care what she told her parents, he wanted her to tell him. “You know, that your life will forever be altered?”

“It’s been that way since she was born,” Curtis made all the changes in having a child, while she didn’t make any.

“I don’t want to be a mom,” relief floods over her body, and tears break through her polished veneer. She’s been living a lie, and didn’t know how to stop it from spiraling. Gulping, she wipes at her eyes, and shimmies her shoulders. Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. “I’ve got to go.”

“Tati?”

“Just…I don’t care, just don’t go flaunting her around town. And I won’t sign my rights over until you’re married to someone I approve of. You can have sole custody like we discussed. But…I don’t want anyone to know before I’m ready. I’m going over to Monica’s. Have the fucking house,” her heels start to click out the door, but Curtis clears his throat.

“I’ll give you two weeks,” Her mouth drops open. She isn’t usd to negotiations, especially with him. He always gave her what she wanted. “I’m done waiting, Tati. Poet will be one in three weeks. You’re not doing anyone any favors by avoiding talking to your parents. And if they have a problem with who you truly are in love with, that’s on them. You will always have me and Poet, and you can be aunt Tati.”

Curtis senses her frustration. Can tell that she is irritated, but she smiles. Her smile actually reaches her eyes, and the warmth he loved about her shines through. She really didn’t want to be a mom. “I don’t want Poet to know about you. I mean who you are to her.”

“That’s fine. I — I had my tubes tied anyways. I didn’t — she’s not a mistake, but I don’t want kids. I never wanted kids. It’s not in me. Do you hate me?” He shakes his head no, and Tati sighs. “Don’t make her hate me. Either of them. I was ugly this morning.”

“And then you ran away.”

“It’s what I do best with this situation. But I don’t run from Monica. I run to her,” Curtis silently thanks her. He knows it’s been a long time, and hard work with her therapist to say all of that. Everything she said, all that she admitted to.

“I’m proud of you, Tater Tot.”

“I said don’t call me that,” Tati smiles as she walks towards the front door. Leaving a house that was never her home. Leaving a marriage that she never wanted, a daughter she loved, but didn’t need. A daughter that she is okay to step back and not raise. Give up all that responsibility to Curtis and whatever woman he chose as Poet’s mom. And she’d sign everything away. Let his wife adopt her and Poet become hers.

And for once, she’s not running away. She’s finally going home.

The house is eerily quiet. Even in the pool house, the only thing you hear is your racing heart. Having to look into the mirror to see if you can see it beating out of your chest. Thankfully, it isn’t, but your chest heaves with bated anticipation. Wrapping a towel around your body, you sit and wait like a fool in love. With the blinds open, you stare at the lit up pool, waiting. You won’t be the first one out there, even if you’re staring into that water like it can answer your questions.

You have bared enough of yourself recently, and will soon physically do that, but you need Curtis to be the one to lose control this time. Need him to tell you what you deserve to hear. At nine o’clock on the dot Curtis emerges from his bedroom. He looks towards the pool house, before going to the diving board, and diving in.

He comes up on the other end of the pool, and sits at the table. Resting his elbows on the tile before holding his head in contemplation. Water drips down his face, and you want to lick him clean. No. No. One thing at a time. And with how you’re dressed, you’re already going to cause him to have a heart attack. Deep breaths.

You step out of the pool house, but his head remains in his palms. You walk right up to the steps, and drop your towel. Making your way into the pool too slowly. Your chest is fully submerged when Curtis lifts up. His mouth in that crooked cocky smirk when he wiggles two fingers to you. Beckoning you to come closer, and you shake your head no.

“Earlier today you were trying to show me your pussy, and now you won’t let me see your naked body?” His head tilts to the side. He’s always an observant one, especially when it comes to your body.

“It was inappropriate at the time,” he nods his head as he slides out of the chair, “You stay over there,” if he comes any closer, you’ll be begging him to lift you onto his cock.

“Why?”

“If you want me closer to you, tell me how the conversation with Tati went,” Curtis sighs. He settles back into the chair, and faces towards you. His hands slide up and down his thighs, and his legs spread ever so slightly. “That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. She’s fighting a lot. But I told her essentially I didn’t care, and gave her a time frame of two weeks, and I’m filing for divorce,” you take a step closer, staying squatted in the pool. “Put your arms down,” you shake your head no again, and he playfully growls.

“She left,” another step forward. “She’s going to stay at Monica’s tonight. You know when we bought this house, she jokingly said that if we ever divorced, she knew I would keep Poet, so I could just have it. She’ll give me full custody. But I need to be honest with you, so if you please give me a little peek,” he’s cheeky. Like showing yourself is going to make this any better.

You drop both arms from around your chest, and Curtis gets even more comfortable. Leaning back in the chair. “Stand up,” you shake your head no again. He wanted a little peek. “You’re frustrating tonight.”

“And you’re admitting to needing to see my tits to tell me this?”

“Yes. It relaxes me,” at least he’s honest. You stand up out of the water. Streams of water fall over your breasts, dripping down your hardened nipples before you dip back into the water. “You are a tease. Go up the stairs, and spread your legs.”

“The only person that will be spreading my legs will be you,” he palms his crotch, groaning. “Curtis,” you warn. He could have it all. Well. Maybe. Maybe not tonight.

“Tati doesn’t want to be a mom, and I will gladly take that off her hands. But…I don’t date to have someone in my life. I date for someone to be in hers, too, and maybe eventually, no time soon, adoption. I usually don’t date. In fact, I told Tati that’s why she went along with whatever childish game this was. Because she never saw me settling down. She thought I was always going to be fucking women at their places.”

“Theirs?” You cock up an eyebrow. Of course Curtis would be into casual sex. He slept with you after knowing you for a couple of hours. But keeping things at their places, keeps them away from his home. His safe space.

“I never bring women into my life. And I’m just a dick in theirs. I didn’t care to be more than that. Because I don’t want to share my daughter with them. Stand up all the way,” you do without hesitation, but keep your arms around your chest, “Now walk closer to me, I need to see you better,” you do. It’s not a slow crawl, it’s a normal speed. But the time just drags on as his eyes roam over your drenched body.

He stands, meeting you halfway, and his hands grab onto your hips. Sliding back behind your back as he pulls you closer, and presses your body against his. Your skin lights on fire at the feeling of his body against yours. All hard lines, and even harder cock pressing against you, and wanting to be free, “And yet, I don’t mind sharing Poet with you.”

“This is too soon,” is it? Is it too soon? Or are you too scared?

“I know, and I still can’t stop it. I don’t know how. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to be casual with you. I never saw Tati making this place her home, and she won’t be pretending to anymore. But I need to know if you see yourself becoming Poet’s mother in the future. Tati wants to be an aunt, so…” dizzy. There’s no other word than that. Whiplash maybe. But you don’t want it to be.

Yours and Curtis’ relationship has been teasing, and slightly sexual. Ultimatums about the future, but this is for real. This is the future for a little girl. “What if I don’t want that?”

“Then give me this one night, and I’ll back away. Poet needs a mother, and it’s not Tati. I’m not saying you need to adopt her tomorrow. I’m saying she doesn’t talk much, she knows you more than her mother. Her mother is nothing but an entity to her, but you are the woman that takes care of her. I already see her preferring you over her mom. And I want you, but I need you to eventually want her. Or at least see you wanting to be her mother.”

Wiggling your arms off your chest, you sink a hand low, and cup his bulge. “Do you always get horny thinking about a future with me?”

“Everything about you makes me horny. Thinking about you pregnant, seeing you make supper, watching you sneak to Poet’s room to kiss her goodnight, watching you watching me. Everything you do is sexual to me.”

You back his body up to the chair, pushing him down onto the seat before you climb in his lap. Straddling his body while you grind on him. His cock throbs on your core, and you’ve never wanted anything more than for him to sink into you. But if you’re to take things slow, you need to just get this pent up energy out, “We’re not teenagers.”

“And we’re taking this slow,” you mewl. Staring at Curtis through your lashes.

“Why?”

“Because it’s not about us anymore, is it?” He groans again. Letting his head fall back on his shoulders as he looks at the stars. Staring at you was like staring at a dream that he can’t make a reality, “Was it ever about just us?”

“That night in the hotel I was not thinking about my daughter as I was fucking you, no.”

“You never thought you’d see me again?” It’s something you’ve pondered many times. Because you never thought you’d see him again. Even if he left his card. He was to be a cock for pleasure that night. And now you see a relationship.

He sits up, shaking his head no. His eyes move over your body as you work his aching cock. This clearly isn’t enough for him, and sex right now seems rushing. But you need something. You’re dying inside. You need him, but your relationship thus far has been built on forbidden romance and sex.

“And now I can’t imagine not seeing you again,” you move faster, undulating your hips with so much enthusiasm. Writhing over him, and he’s mesmerized. It’s like a beautiful little dance that you do just for him. A private performance only for his eyes. A girl he knows has this filthy streak, but you are the perfect balance of lady and freak.

You are his perfect match. A friend, a lover, a fucking porn star with the way you’re moaning, the possible mom to his daughter, his best friend, his everything. A mate for him in all walks of life. Getting off on dry humping him in the pool and it’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. Well…he has been inside you, but this sexiness is different.

You’re frustrated, so you use him. “The tension is clouding our judgment, we — we — we need this.”

“Aw, is my little saving Grace getting off on this?” You nod your head yes, moving fast. “There’s a good girl. Ride me like you own me,” you move hard and fast over him. Leaning forward to nip and kiss on his neck. Taking out your frustrations on his freckled sensitive skin. “Because you do.”

You bite on his neck delicately, and give him a hard suck, while he bucks up his hips, meeting you while he blows his load into the water. Your movements slow until you’re just panting on top of him. “You know you do. Do you feel better now?”

“Yes.”

“So now what?”

“You can take me on a date on your bike. You’re the father, so you’re going to have to figure out a babysitter,” you move away from his neck, and smile at him. His eyes freely roam over your heaving chest. With a smirk, you lean back. Practically laying back on his legs so you spread your own, “You can look, but you can’t touch just yet.”

“But she’s swollen,” he says looking into the water. “And she’s blurry,” he starts to lift up your bottom half, but you sit up straight, shaking a finger in his face. “That’s not fair!”

“Proper date. And then we’ll see how I feel about something more serious with you.”

“You want it,” he teases as you saunter towards the stairs of the pool. You bend over to pick your towel up, but don’t wrap it around you before walking towards the pool house. “Can you sleep in the bed with me?”

“Find us a sitter first!” You scream over your shoulder. It’s getting harder and harder to walk away from him. Almost impossible to tell him no, while you’re dying to let him take you where he wants to go. You want him. You want everything that comes with him, but this is moving too fast.

Right?

You pace back and forth in your pool house, wrapping the towel around your body because you seem so cold. Your house feels miles away from him now. Any distance between you and Curtis feels too far away. He’s leaving her. He’s leaving his wife. You have spent months avoiding the thing and person you want, and it’s him. It’s a life with him and his daughter. It’s crazy. Absurd, and still you’re walking towards the door. Holding your hand over the handle, and then freezing.

Is it worth the risk now? Have you tortured yourself and waited long enough?

You have. Jerking the door open, you stand transfixed in the doorway, staring up at the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. He couldn’t wait either. Meeting you at your door because he was needy for more. His azure eyes look more soft than predatory, “I don’t want to be too forward, but I don’t want you in the pool house. You seem so…”

”Far away?” He nods, holding his hand up for you to take. Glancing down, you grab the appendage, and pull him close to your chest.

“But I’m not fucking you. Poet will probably wake up in about twenty minutes. And I think you’re right, date first. But until the date, can you just sleep in the bed with me?”

He’s walking backwards, pulling you towards his own bedroom. “Can we do no sex?”

“Sweetheart, my cock has been aching to get back inside of you for months, what’s one more night? Or a few days? It’ll be what it’ll have to be, but I can’t have you away from me anymore. And we could get in a quickie, but the next time I’m inside of you, I’m going to take such sweet precious time. Because I know what it’s like to have to live without that sweet cunt, and now, I know what the woman is like.”

It’d have to wait. You’d have to wait. You’ve made it this far. He was worth it. A crazy night of picking up a man on the side of the road has led you to this incredible man with the sweetest daughter, and the possibility of forever.

“I think we’ll manage until our date. Should I warn you I sleep naked?”

“No. Absolutely not. You’re keeping those tits, and that ass covered, or I’m sucking on something until Poet wakes up.”

“Wanna bet?” You squeal, dropping his hand before running towards his door. Curtis rolls his eyes before chasing you. A playfully little romp around the yard to get out any extra annoying butterflies.

“I’m sucking or eating something if you sleep naked, you make your choice.”

“We’re sleeping!”

“Then all of that,” his hands sway over your body, “Has got to be covered,” you were only teasing. But seeing him having fun about sex sends a divine feeling of comfort all over your body. Sex shouldn’t just sweep you off your feet, it should be fun, playful, and wet, and passionate, but still fun.

“Deal. After the first date, I’m sleeping naked.”

“And I’ll fuck you asleep, and fuck you in your sleep,” he winks, walking into the room before you, “Come on, my lady. Let’s cuddle until the baby awakes. No touching. Just cuddling,” you can do that. And you look forward to it. All night. Every night.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai

@smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989

@slowdownbeforeyouregretit @rogersbarber @evelineangel66 @steviebbboi

[dragons-bones]

FFXIV Write Entry #22: Kith and Kin

Prompt: rencounter (free write) || Master Post || On AO3 (coming in October)

A/N: Spoilers through Patch 6.5: Growing Light, and very very very minor ones for Dawntrail.

---

Radz-at-Han was a truly beautiful sight from the air. Built atop a large, lonely plateau rising above the Thavnairian jungle, the city covered its entire surface in a myriad of brightly painted buildings, open plazas decorated with mosaics, and lush gardens on multiple rooftops. And even from this distance, there was no mistaking the crowds that bustled throughout the city and crossed the great bridge connecting Radz-at-Han to the rest of Thavnair.

Excitement bubbled up in Ehll Tou’s throat and she trilled an adventuring song as she began to glide downward in a smooth spiral.

The airship landing was easy to spot, a series of long platforms jutting out from the plateau close to the main gate. As she drew closer, Ehll Tou spotted a figure waving from the end of the westernmost dock: large and broadly built, grey skin, large ears, a sinuous trunk, and wearing a beautiful sari of pink and purple. Ah, that must be Nidhana! Ehll Tou obligingly adjusted her course.

The arkasadora took some steps backward as Ehll Tou neared, her ears held up perked and alert. Almost to the edge now, Ehll Tou threw herself into a backwards loop—it had taken quite a bit of practice to relearn how to do that in her adult body—both as display and to slow her momentum. Coming back upright, she flared her wings as a finally braking maneuver, and landed delicately on one foot, and then the other.

[Hello!] she sang happily. [Are you Nidhana?]

“I am indeed!” Nidhana said, striding forward with surprising grace for a being so tall. She held out her hand, and Ehll Tou reached forward to shake eagerly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ehll Tou! Welcome to Radz-at-Han.”

[A pleasure to meet you as well!]Ehll Tou said. [I’ve heard so much about you and your city! Thank you so much for allowing me to attend your introductory alchemy class.]

“Oh, it is a delight to accept a student so diligent and eager to learn,” Nidhana said, beginning to walk down the pier. “I am only sorry I cannot introduce you to Master Vrtra and Mistress Azdaja, but diplomatic business has taken them to Tural and I’m not certain when they will return.”

Ehll Tou kept easy pace beside her and reached into her bag, retrieving her hat and carefully pinning it back to its rightful, jaunty place atop her left horn. [That’s all right,]she said. [There will be plenty of time to properly meet my kin! I am not in any rush.]

“Ah, the benefits of a draconic lifespan,” Nidhana sighed wistfully. “The things I could learn over such time!”

The two chatted happily as they traveled through Radz-at-Han’s streets towards the High Crucible, with Nidhana pointing out many shops and restaurants and landmarks and Ehll Tou dutifully committing them to memory as she built her mental map of the city. She drew curious looks from many Hannish citizens, though dragons had become a somewhat more common sight since Vrtra began openly ruling as satrap. The adventurers were a familiar sight, and some she even knew from Ishgard! With those she exchanged hellos and promises to meet for a snack and cup of tea.

“Such a wonderful world we now live in,” Nidhana said, her trunk curled and ears gently flapping in the manner Ehll Tou was quickly learning meant happiness. “As terrible as the Final Days were, its aftermath has brought new life to the city and Thavnair as a whole. New foods, new ideas, new friends!”

[It is wondrous to see,] Ehll Tou trilled and tapped her claws together with excitement. [I never thought to see the end of the Dragonsong War, but now I may safely travel the lands of man and learn new skills and meet new peoples, and compose songs to share it all with my kin and encourage them to travel and learn, too!]

Nidhana trumpeted a laugh. “Oh, Sisters have mercy on me, I know now why Synnove adores you so much! It is going to be an honor to teach you, truly!”

Ehll Tou chuffed, chest puffing with pride.

--

Five days later, Ehll Tou was browsing one of the markets, humming happily to herself as she examined a stall of clockwork devices. Her first days of classes had gone well and she had settled into the nest that the Alchemists’ College had prepared for her in the student housing close to the High Crucible. She was making new friends, too, and while some of it had no doubt been engendered by the allure of a draconic classmate, once her classmates realized how well-read she was, they had quickly settled into a mix of gossip and idea sharing. Such fun!

She did miss Hautdilong and Arvide, but they had encouraged her to take this opportunity, and she would be back home within the next few moons once the class was concluded. And in the meantime, she would write letters to them, eagerly await their own, and acquire some souvenirs to bring home with her!

Today was a free day and while she would later meet with her classmates to review their notes and prepare for their first laboratory session, this morning was the perfect time to shop.

Ehll Tou had already purchased some silk for a potential sewing project she had in mind, thread for embroidery in colors that made her purr, and a number of interesting snacks she could share at the study session. The clockwork had caught her eye, used as she was to Ul’dahn styles, and her perusal right now was for an item or two she might carefully disassemble to compare its construction to a Goldsmiths’ Guild mammet she was building. A watch was always a good starting point…

A flash of moving scarlet caught her eye, and Ehll Tou raised her head to spot a dragonet further down the boulevard. She blinked curiously; none of her cousins had said they would be visiting Radz-at-Han, but the dragonet didn’t quite look like any of her cousins, either. Perhaps this was a Meracydian dragonet, one that Great Mother Tiamat felt was well enough to travel beyond the safety of her restored brood? Oh, what fun, she hadn’t met any of her Meracydian kin yet!

Ehll Tou made her selections, gently haggling with the shopkeep, and shook hands once they were both content with their deal. She exchanged gil for the watches, placed her purchases within her satchel, and trotted off down the street.

As Ehll Tou drew closer, she noted that the dragonet was certainly no Dravanian but was quite pretty: her wings had feathers, and a fluffy ruff of white feathers crowned her head behind her horns! She whistled a hello, and the dragonet turned—

—this was not a dragonet.

Ehll Tou scrambled to a stop.

{Oh, look at you!} The great wyrm in a dragonet’s body swooped closer. {What a beautiful dragon you have grown into, scion of Ratatoskr!}

Her voice purred and rolled around the careful enunciations of Dragonspeak in both Ehll Tou’s ears and mind. The sound was warm and multi-toned, drums and dulcimers and heavy woodwinds, a deep contralto of age and experience and affection. In it was echoed the symphonic rumble of Kinfather Midgardsormr and the memory of the green skies of the Dragon Star; the hatching songs of new generations and warsongs of wyrms flying to protect their children; the hollow loneliness of a red moon and the dream of home.

Ehll Tou dropped into a bow, neck low and wings spread, and frantically pawed through her mental library of etiquette. Azdaja the Lost had never mothered a brood, so ‘Great Mother’ would not be the proper courtesy title, but perhaps a more mortal term would work, she could contract the layers of generations into one—

[It is my honor, Great Aunt Azdaja,] Ehll Tou trilled in Dragonspeak, though the term for ‘aunt’ translated rather awkwardly.

{Such wonderful manners, I am well met,} Azdaja said, squinting her eyes closed in pleasure. {Further formality is not necessary, little niece.}

Ehll Tou popped up from her bow, fairly vibrating with excitement. [Thank you, Great Aunt! I am Ehll Tou.]

{Yes, yes, Ehll Tou of Dravania! First of a new generation of dragons born to peace.} Azdaja’s voice had warmed even further. {My brother and I just returned to Radz-at-Han last night. How fortuitous that I met you this morning; Vrtra planned to send you an invitation to dinner so that we might properly meet and exchange songs. Would you be able to attend tonight?}

[Oh, yes, I would! Today and tomorrow are my rest days,] Ehll Tou said, fighting the urge to fairly dance in place. Oh goodness, to share family songs with two of the great wyrms! So much to learn! So much to share! She was going to be the utter envy of Zenith and Anyx Trine!

Azdaja’s laugh was a rippling sound of bells and flutes. {Might I accompany you?} she said. {I am still learning much about Radz-at-Han myself, and such excursions are always more joyous with company.}

[It would be my pleasure!] Ehll Tou couldn’t stop her excited hop as Azdaja came to hover next to her, both of their attentions caught by a samosa stall opening as the lunch hour began.

This, Ehll Tou knew, was going to be one of the best days she ever had.

[beatrixstonehill2]

Veronica was enjoying her time at a pool in a luxurious hotel when a woman named Gina approached her, eyeing her in an accusatory way. "What do you think you're doing?" Gina asked.

"What do you mean?" Veronica asked in a soft, feminine voice.

"Disgusting, another dumb little fakegirl here to ogle us real women and fantasize about doing god knows what to us."

"Huh!? No, I think you made a mistake, I--"

Gina pulled off Veronica's clothes, starting with her top, revealing her large breasts for everyone to see, then pulled off her bottoms, sizing the disrobed girl up. "Well, well, well, look what we have here." Gina said, shaking her head at the sight of Veronica's small cock held in place with body tape.

"There's no rules against trans girls staying here! I.... wasn't ogling anyone or being a perv! I just haven't gotten around to removing my cock...."

"Uh-huh, heard it a million times, princess. You're so disgusting. I saw you when you arrived yesterday. Since you don't pass whatsoever it was obvious you were a boy. Since then I've caught you filming pregnant girls in bikinis on your phone, filming upskirts, staring at countless girls' asses and breasts, you accidentally bumped into and touched the breasts of about a dozen girls staying here, and I even caught you rubbing your cock through your bikini as you watched that group of pregnant college girls celebrating their victory in some gymnastics competition. I also followed you in the bathroom and heard you jerking off."

"Ummmm..... it's.... not true? I didn't mean to..... those girls were really hot and showing off their moves, their breasts kept falling out and oh my god their asses were so juicy and fat--oh!" Veronica covered her mouth, her cock throbbed against the tape holding it in place.

"You poor perverted boy. Let mommy take you in and take care of you. Show you some discipline. Wouldn't you like that?"

"Ummm......would I have to stop being a girl?"

"Idiot. You aren't a girl now. Just a confused, perverted boy.... Come on, let me help break you free of your confusion, OK?"

Veronica nodded, taking Gina's hand as she walked her naked through the hotel, back to her room....

"It's been a year since I met my mistress, Gina, and detransitioned for her, finally giving up my perverted fantasy of being a girl. Gina started by making me get rid of my "breasts", which were just oversized moobs that grew unnaturally big because my parents tricked me into taking synthetic hormones because I liked dressing as a girl. Now they're growing back because my mistress funnel feeds me so much.... if they look too much like a girl's breasts Mistress Gina says she'll make me get another reduction.

I used to goon in private to so many pretty girls online, and I was something of a voyeur.... I also took a new guy home almost every night, I'd go to all kinds of nice hotels and sleep with as many men as possible, while watching all the pretty rich girls..... But now Gina controls when I'm allowed to cum. Only after I do good and meet my monthly weight gain milestones and don't complain when she pegs me with her.... intimidatingly big strap ons. I'm just her boy-toy hog who only exists to fatten for her amusement, until she gets bored of me, which she told me she will. I never get to fuck her of course, only watch her get fucked or peg other girls, as well as a bunch of other former t-girls she forced to detransition.

I have to stuff my face and eat as I watch her have an active sex life, if I slow down she stops what she's doing to scold me or paddle me if I'm really disobedient. She makes eye contact with me the whole time she pegs or gets fucked, never with her partner. She just watches me eat and encourages me to keep stuffing my dumb, hog mouth and get nice and fat so I can cum like a good boy. It's kind of funny but she's way more perverted than I ever was as as trans girl.... even if I was pretty out of control. Now I have no choice but to get as fat as possible for my mistress until she finally gets bored with me and drops me off at my parents' house.... That's going to be a fun conversation. Telling them I detransed after living as a girl since the second grade, and got so fat I can't walk.... Hope they don't mind taking care of me and keep me as well fed as Mistress Gina.... Fuck, I've got to stop thinking about it or I might accidentally cum. I've been getting punished enough lately.... Keeping Mistress Gina satisfied gets harder and harder the fatter I get, I can barely keep up with my weight gain goals, but having Mistress Gina jerk me off at the end of every month makes it all worth it. Her eyes staring into mine as she calls me a gross, disgusting boy who never passed as a girl, and a fat useless hog who's never gonna make a girl cum, who's gonna be too fat to fuck or masturbate.... I cum soooo fast, then she makes me lick the cum off her hand, afterwards she slaps me and tells me to do better next month, that I'm gaining pathetically slow.... I have to do better for my mistress. I already can't even remember ever being a fakegirl with big bouncy tits......"

[holylulusworld]

Compensation (3)

Summary: No one messes with Walter Marshall.

Pairing: Mobster!Walter Marshall x fem!Reader

Warning: angst, a lil plot twist, scared reader, fluff, possessive Walter, language

Compensation (2)

“I know it’s not your apartment, but please, make yourself home, princess,” Walter murmurs as he follows you inside the guest room. It’s not far away from the master bedroom, the one Walter inhabits.

The luxurious bedroom looks bigger than your former apartment. It’s part of his well-designed home. Everything in the room looks brand new and expensive. From the vanity table to the chaise lounge. There is a velvety, high-end carpet placed under the luxurious four-poster bed.

“I know you must be tired, but let me give you a tour,” he says and wraps one arm around your shoulders. Walter guides you toward a door on the other side of the huge room. His warmth is almost unbearable. You want to bask in it and feel safe, but you can’t.

Walter drops his arm from around your shoulders to point at the door.

“Walk-in wardrobe. Through the other door is a bathroom, with a shower, a bathtub, and everything you’ll need.”

You can't find your voice, so you nod. Everything is just too much. Your boss killed a man for you. Your home got destroyed. And now he wants you to live with him.

Why? You have no clue.

“How about you take a warm bath and get settled in? I’ll be right next door, Y/N. If you need anything, the door to the left is mine.” He smirks when you look up at him with big, wide eyes. “You’re safe here. Nothing will happen to you on my watch.”

He finally steps away, letting you breathe. Walter looks you all over again, humming as you look adorable in his sweater. It’s too big for you and reaches your knees.

“Thank you,” you murmur; it’s all you can do. “For everything.”

Walter hesitates for a moment. He stares at you for what feels like hours before he cups your face with his right hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll have everything you need. Get some sleep now.”

And then he turns around to leave you even more stunned. You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your skin when the door shuts behind him.

You stare at the door for a little longer before you turn toward the walk-in wardrobe. Opening the door, you gasp. You expected it to be empty, not filled with clothes.

You slowly walk inside, glancing at the pretty clothes. Dresses from designers you only ever saw in fashion magazines, soft sweaters, and shoes in every form. Nightgowns, pajamas, even socks. Everything is your size.

“That’s impossible,” you grab one of the sweaters, frowning because it’s brand new. “How can he know my size?” Even if Walter knew your size, how did he manage to get so many clothes in such a short amount of time?

You’re overwhelmed once again. Stumbling out of the wardrobe, you make your way toward the bathroom door. Maybe if you splash cold water on your face, you’ll wake from this dream.

“I said no!” Walter barks on the phone. “I don’t want to meet up tonight or any other night.” He makes a face as one of his regular sex dates purrs filthy things. “Stop that, or I’ll make you stop. Never call me again. I have someone now."

He hangs up the phone, immediately blocking her number.

“You have someone now?” Rachel cocks a brow. “I didn’t know you’re dating. When did that happen?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Walter waves her off, not in the mood to explain his love life to her. “I’m not into Chanel any longer. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No.” She shakes her head. Rachel tries to stay professional, never getting involved in her boss’s private life. “I was just wondering if you need us to protect the new woman in your life.”

“She’s not for you to worry about.” He dips his head to glance at Rachel. “I need you to check on the whereabouts of Y/N’s ex-boyfriend. Find me some dirt I can use against him. That fucker has to stay away from her.”

“Why not find a final solution?” Rachel questions. “I can send someone to get rid of him.”

“The cops would connect the dots, Rachel. Y/N works for me. She lives at my place. Suddenly her ex disappears?” He huffs. “We cannot risk drawing too much attention toward us and our business.”

“Got it, boss. I’ll find all the dirt you want.

Opening the cabinet in the bathroom, you frown. There’s lots of makeup, creams, lotions, and everything you could wish for. Everything is unopened.

The expensive shampoo and conditioner are the ones you always wanted to try. You shake your head. How could Walter possibly know about all that?

No. He can’t. Maybe one of his girlfriends liked the brand, and he had some left to give to you. This must be it. Everything else doesn’t make sense...

You decide to forget about what happened and do what Walter told you to do. You’re going to take a warm bath and try to get some sleep.

“No!” You wake up screaming. The soft blanket clutched to your chest, you stare at the door when it bursts open. Walter storms into the room, a gun in his hands.

“Princess?” He steps inside your room, looking for an intruder. “What happened? Are you hurt? Did someone try to hurt you?”

You’re panting heavily, close to panicking. “I-I…he…” You shake your head, and Walter sighs. He had hope you’re going to heal knowing the man attacking you is dead. How foolish of him. Of course, you won’t get over what happened so easily.

“It was a nightmare,” he concludes and steps even closer to your bed. Walter looks at you, clinging to the blanket. “Do you want me to stay?”

He presses his hands to his sides to not scare you even more. You look at him, wrinkling your forehead. “I can sleep on the floor or on the chaise lounge.”

Dipping your head, you look at the small chaise lounge. A huge man like Walter could never sleep comfortably on the furniture.

“I don’t know,” you tug at the blanket, eyes darting from Walter’s face to the gun in his hand. “Would you?”

“Sure, princess,” Walter murmurs your name as he secures his gun. He puts it on the nightstand before he turns to close the door. You’re nervously chewing on your lower lip. Your boss is crawling under the covers to lie next to you. His big hands reach out for you to bring you into his arms.

You go stiff when he nuzzles his face in your neck. “I’m here, Y/N. He can’t hurt you anymore. You’re safe with me, princess. Always.”

“Okay, Walter wants the dirt. Get it!” Rachel barks orders at the tech nerd they hired some months ago. “Oh, and do me a favor.” She runs her hand over Jensen’s back. “Check on Y/N Y/L/N and her father too.”

“Why?” Jensen frowns. “The boss wanted me to do the same months ago. I thought he was satisfied with the information I gave to him.”

Rachel frowns deeply. “Months ago?”

“Yup. Boss wants me to check on every employee, but damn, he even wanted to know about her favorite ice cream.” Jensen grins before typing away on his keyboard. “Does he want me to print him everything again? I bet he accidentally threw it away.”

“Can you send me everything to my account?” Rachel asks. “And not a word to Walter. I want to check on her background again. I need to be sure he didn’t overlook an important detail.”

“Not much to find out about her,” Jensen shrugs. “Her parents died in an accident. Nothing interesting or fishy about it. She’s a single child. Do you want me to continue?”

“Her parents are dead.” She frowns deeply. "Compensation, my ass!” Rachel exclaims before glaring at Jensen. “I want everything you got on her, her parents, and everyone she ever talked to. If you tell Walter about this, I’ll cut your tongue out!”

You fell asleep faster than Walter expected. His warmth and two strong arms wrapped around you made you feel safe.

“I’ve got you, princess.” He murmurs in your neck. “I knew when I saw you that first day after you came to my town that you’re going to be mine.”

Walter closes his eyes to allow himself to get some sleep too. He regrets nothing. Having you finally in his arms was worth all the effort.

The only thing he regrets is that he couldn’t stop the bastard from attacking you. Walter should’ve made a move on you sooner. Your attacker would’ve stayed away from you knowing you’re Walter Marshall’s girlfriend...

Part 4

Tags in reblog.

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Guarded Desires: Part 8

Fandom: Star Wars - The Acolyte

Pairing: Padawan!Qimir x Princess!Reader

Summary: After an assassination attempt on your mother, she’s asked a favor from the Jedi Council to watch over you and your family until the assailant has been caught. As a result, your mother’s old friend, Master Vernestra, has her padawan, Qimir, be your bodyguard. Based off my imagine here.

Series Masterlist

Qimir did his best not to let anger settle within him, but he couldn't help it. For the first time in his life, he felt...alive. Being with you set him aflame, it awakened a desire within him that he didn't know he could feel.

The Jedi aren't supposed to feel things like desire. The Jedi aren't supposed to form attachments. Such feelings were looked down upon, like they were bad. And yet...they made Qimir feel more alive than he's ever felt before. Only for you to be ripped away from him.

He got a taste of what it was like to hold you, kiss you, and...love you.

Qimir had never been in love but he was sure that's what he felt for you. He thought about you every day since he met you. He protected you, stayed by your side, worried about your well being. He learned about your likes, dislikes, your desires, your goals. He saw you at low points and high. In just a few weeks, Qimir had fallen for you. You made it so easy to do so with your kindness, your sass, your fire, and determination.

His heart aches being so far from you now.

Master Vernestra still remains on Nerathos Prime as she continues to lead the investigation on the palace attacks and the assassination attempt on your mother.

She occasionally checks in on him and his answers are the same. He's still training and working to be one of the best Jedi Knights he can be. However, the more he says it, the less it rings true to him.

He's not sure if being a Jedi is what he wants to do anymore. His faith is wavering as he doesn't understand how something that makes him feel good and warm inside is seen as something bad.

That's when he starts hearing a voice. There's been a poking in his mind. A voice whispering in his ear that the Jedi are wrong. That love and desire aren't a bad thing. That his affections and desire to be with you should be acknowledged and accepted, not swept under the rug like a dirty secret. You don't deserve to be a dirty secret.

_________________________

Nira was...nice. She was professional and was very keen on keeping the professional boundary between you and herself. She never shared too many details about herself. Only vague facts. It frustrated you, but you also understood.

You suddenly felt so alone now.

You took your frustrations out on training, kicking down any and all of the Knight's Guard that became your partner. Orin could see that something was wrong, so after a grueling session. He pulled you off to the side.

"What's going on?" He asks in concern.

You roll your eyes, "Nothing."

He scoffs, "Don't lie to me. We all see something is wrong. None of the others will say something, but I'm your friend. I care about you, Y/N. Whatever it is, let me help," he places a hand on your shoulder and you shrug him off.

"You can't help me," you mumble, looking anywhere but at him.

"At least let me try."

"Why? So you can be in my father's good graces?"

"No! I told you, you're my friend! Y/N, we've been friends for years. You know I'd never do something like that to you."

You run a hand down your face, "You're right. I'm sorry. It's-It's complicated."

"It's about him, isn't it? The Jedi," Orin whispers. You nod and he continues, "Had a feeling. Noticed he was replaced. Did-Did something bad happen?"

You sigh, "Yes, and no. We confessed our feelings for each other and-and we kissed. But then Master Vernestra looked into his head and saw what we did. He was sent back to Coruscant shortly after."

"Why?"

"Jedi aren't supposed to form any sort of attachments. I was too much of a distraction and temptation. So he was sent away."

Orin nods in understanding, "I see...I'm sorry, Y/N."

You shrug, "I'm tired of other people being in control of my life. For once, I was doing something for me. Not for my father's approval or for the good of our people, me! And it was stripped away at an instant."

Orin immediately pulls you into his arms. His hold was tight but also comforting. And for the first time in a while, you let yourself break down. You're heartbroken and feel so stuck. Knowing Orin is there for you really seemed to strike a chord in you.

So you wrap your arms around him and let yourself cry. You cry until there are no tears left.

___________________

You wake up to hearing waves crashing. There's a slight breeze and you smell salt water.

You open your eyes to brightness. The suns of Nerathos Prime beaming down at you. You're laying in the sand. You slowly sit up and look around. You're at the beach you and your family visited a week prior.

But you're confused. Why're you here?

"Enjoy your nap, princess?" you turn to see Qimir sitting beside you, a soft smile on his lips.

"Qimir? What-Where-"

"You're dreaming."

You shoulder slump in disappointment, "So you're not really here?"

His face scrunches up in a sorrowful look, "Unfortunately not. I'm still on Coruscant, but...I think our bond is so strong it's linked us. So we can be in each other's dreams."

"Why now? You've been gone for a week and now you're appearing in my dreams?"

"I've been trying to get the link to stick and I finally got it," he places his hand on top of yours, "How are you?"

You snort, "Miserable. You?"

"Just about the same. I, uh, I got into a fight a few days ago."

Your eyes widen, "What? Why?"

"Another padawan heard about why I came back. Started spewing off a bunch of fodder and wouldn't shut up, so I punched him."

"What did he say?"

"It doesn't matter," he shrugs trying to brush off the subject, he pulls his knees up and rests his arms up on them.

"Was it about us?"

He slowly nods, looking out to the sea, "Said I was stupid for ever thinking a princess could fall for me."

You snort, "How could I not fall for you? You're funny, kind, strong, understanding-"

Qimir blushes, hiding his face in his arms, "Stop it."

You giggle, "No! It's true! I-You're different, Qimir. You see me for me and not some princess."

"And you see me for me," he reaches out and pulls you closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he rests his head on yours.

"Can we stay here forever?" you whisper with desperation.

He sighs, "No, but I'll do my best to visit you as much as I can. But this is my first time actually succeeding and I don't know the toll it'll take on me after."

"Okay. Just take care of yourself, alright, Qi?"

"I'll do my best," he replies, pressing a kiss to your head and letting the sound of the crashing waves fill the silence between you.

[thebutterfly-effects]

Its Snowing Like Its The End Of The World ⋆｡°✩

hypothesis: after everything, he comes back to see you do that to him? he’s been selfish all his life, and theres a reason for the action he made on your big day.

warnings: none really, self inflicted angst? unaliving, sad, english is not my second language sorry if this sucks, Satoru justifies his actions, the best-friends fall out but they love each other trope, this is mostly Satoru’s pov.

bye im never gonna write again after this

Have you ever heard of the Japanese phrase “Yamato Nadeshiko”? Its a phrase used to describe the ideal Japanese woman.

Quiet, Meek, Timid, Calm, Nurturing, Bears a lot of children, Knows her place, Always respects her husband.

Some people argue that this type of girl has been going extinct in our day and age, it’s hard to find it. According to men, women are either super lenient, or a tough feminist that would brutally murder a man. And always choose the bear, perhaps.

Satoru Gojo hated that term. He thought what if he had his own type of ‘Yamato Nadeshiko’?

what if he didn’t want the one to be a timid girl that would submit to his every word? what if he wanted a little challenge? a headache? a thrill? something he would never expect?

There weren’t many options in Jujutsu Tech. Ugh. There was Shoko, but she’s a really good friend, and if he’s being honest, shes facing some major lesbian allegations in the school. Yikes. With who though?!?!?!

Obviously theres many other girls in the school, but none were worth Satoru’s time.

Then there was the Kyoto girls. Utahime, which was a mother fucking no. Mei Mei? she’s probably gonna be after his money, and they’d look related anyway; white hair n shit.

That scratches off all of the girls in Satoru’s list, mind list at least— he wants some love, real genuine love, lets be honest, hes fucking deprived. a virgin? maybe? maybe not? but deprived? absolutely.

..

Unless we mention one last girl. You. Satoru’s ultimate best friend, attached to the hip, a package deal. The type of friends where if one was absent the sensei would ask where the other was.

mhm, it was like that.

Suguru was obviously still his best friend too. But you? you were somethin’ else.

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

“you ever think if meteors were actually made of cheese like in tom n jerry?” Satoru asks with a mouthful of nerd clusters in his mouth, it was his fifth pack but he burned through the calories like fire on paper.

You look at him. You’re so fed up with his dumb questions, for a guy that has to do fucking calculus in his head every time he uses his techniques, he sure was fucking dumb.

“they’re made of rocks.” you say flatly, continuing to crochet a little penguin for Shoko, she said she wanted an audience of crocheted animals to watch her as she dissects his friends. Yikes.

Satoru pouts, licking the sweetness off his lips as he stares at you, his glasses tipping down his nose. “what do you take me for? of course i knew that.” he scoffed.

“did you though?”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“did not.”

“did.”

“ugh, did n-“

he silences you by an ambush of kisses to your cheek, and a couple of head pats. “did!” he grinned, holding your face with one hand, both your poor cheeks were squished together. You wondered if this is what puffer fish feel like when humans poke them when they’re look all round n shit.

“real smooth, Sato.” you roll you eyes, looking off into the distance, your eyes catching a glimpse of a snowflake?

Its already snowing? what the hell?

“whatchu lookin at, hm?” he murmurs, taking his glasses off because as he always says, you were the only thing that didn’t overwhelm his eyes. “lemme see-“

“snowflake.” you mumbled.

“it’s august though..? is this effects of el niño or el niña?” he says, throwing a peach ring into his mouth.

You stare at him, like he just grew horns and a tail. “um.. no, that has to do with water temperature changing from japan’s oceans and south america’s.” you say.

“global warming?”

“Satoru.”

“what?”

“repeat that for me, please?”

“global warming.”

..

“oh, warming. hehe.. sorry.” He says, rubbing his neck before crinkling the plastic bag of the gummies in his hand.

“you know my mom always told me that when snow comes in the summer to tropical countries, it means the end of the world is near.” You say, stealing a peach ring from his mouth.

Its his turn to look at you like you grew two heads.

“that’s probably the dumbest shit i’ve ever heard, but ill slide it cuz i love you.” he says.

“tch, can’t speak your mind these days.” you mutter, and he smiles and lays his head on your lap, staring at the small snowflakes falling, and the shooting stars in the sky.

The silence was nice, never awkward between you two. You were as close as conjoined twins, yes i said it, forgive me. Maybe you were a little delusional and thought there was something more to it? you don’t know. You don’t want to know, its treading on thin ice.

Satoru was likely the only person you feel comfortable here with in the school, you left your clan— which was so far away, you left your home far away to pursue jujutsu. Your friends were cool, Shoko was very friendly, and you felt like you had a stable girlfriend here, Suguru was always friendly but its like conversations with him were so forced and short.

Satoru was always the one to like talking, eating, doing whatever came to his mind— you liked his sense of carelessness, someway it balanced out how grounded and reserved you were, gave you a breath of fresh air.

for him?

you grounded him, more than Suguru ever could, he felt like there was always this wall for him to lean on if he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. All this bullshit of him having to keep calm and be the strongest was teetering him on the edge of losing it all. Alas, you were there, you are there.

hopefully this stays this way forever, right?

..right?

✧༺ ♡ ༻∞

where did any of this go wrong.

how did it go wrong?

he swears he never meant for the fallout to happen, shit just.. happens sometimes, a measly fight that made your ‘friendship’ fizzle. Disappear. Catch on flames the way Sodium did when it touched water. Not to mention, he was dealing with losing Suguru at the time, it was a lot for him to process..? One moment Suguru was fine.. then, he just flipped a switch.

Or maybe Satoru didn’t notice it.

Which makes it either; Suguru was a good liar, or Satoru was a shit friend.

He doesn’t want to think that he was a shit friend, and he doesn’t want to think Suguru had lied to him as well.

God this was all so frustrating.

His haori suddenly felt suffocating.

For an article of clothing that was meant to be very loose and baggy, Satoru felt strangled right now.

Blue eyes, raw and misty as he watched you stand with some snobby guy who was heir of his clan, you in your white shiromuku, looking so sweet and angelic.

He had been sealed for a while, only to come out and hear that you were getting married? where have you been all these years while plaguing his mind, why didn’t you tell him?

he supposes he knows why, but it still stings.

stings to see you wear your shiromuku next to a man that was supposed to be him.

his fist clenched, then unclenched. This wasn’t fair, did you forget everything that happened before you fell out? small kisses? little ways of saying i love you indirectly? was he not obvious with his love for you? moreover, were you lying? because theres no way on God’s green earth you were able to just move on so fast when he never did.

The sight in his eyes just fills him with rage, sadness, FOMO of something that was supposed to be his.

he lifts his fingers, aiming for your groom.

all sense of logic goes away as he murmurs the two words and a blast of purple rushes past everyone, people that were probably not important, not to him at least, and they get caught up in the crossfire before it finally lands on him.

and no longer was he your groom.

you don’t even get to see what happens as you fall down and hit your head on the concrete.

maybe you feel a hand touching you, you assume its your groom— you assume its someone— but the instinct in your gut tells you its someone else— and judging by that purple light—-

Satoru sighs, trying to wipe the stains of your no longer future husband’s blood off your shiromuku, even his blood stained you, it irked him.

“what were you up to, hm?” he whispered, though he knew you weren’t listening. His knuckles lingered on your cheek.

“couldn’t just sit and watch, my girl. Im sorry.” he whispered, genuine remorse in his voice— not for killing the guy, but because you got hurt in the process of his rash decision.

While he should be out there, fighting that monstrosity called Sukuna, he was here. Hes sorry, he really is, but he’s been selfless all his life— can’t he be selfish this one time? Or would it be the end of the world?

how ironic.

it is the end of the world. Sukuna’s out there ending lives like he was stepping on cockroaches; and the strongest sorcerer was here, hands stained with the blood of the man trying to marry his girl.

He knows he shouldn’t say shit like this, you guys haven’t talked in years— you moved to Kyoto just to not feel the pain of the fall out between you two.

But alas, you both loved each other. He hopes you still do— because you were here trying to get married while he was sealed away for a while.

maybe you didn’t know he was sealed.

maybe.

He feels something cold on his nose, and he touches it.

a snowflake, reminds him of that time you guys saw a meteor— then traces of snow though it was mid august. Maybe this was the universe’s sign that he did the right thing, to make things right, to take back what he desperately wanted.

He smiled a little to himself as he saw another snowflake land on your cheek, so he cradled you, gathering you in his arms as he walked away from the scene.

he sees the snow rapidly increasing and smiles.

“remember that time you told me about what your mama said?” he murmurs, holding you close, hoping you’re listening somewhere in there. “snow in summer means the end of the world.” he says, looking up at the sky.

Sukuna.

almost losing you.

half his friends dying.

his students in danger.

japan in danger.

“i guess its snowing like its the end of the world.” he murmurs, hoping you’d wake up and let him lean on you when he needed you most. which is now.

wake up.

“please.”

[closetcasefabray]

jesus saves (i spend)

i have been writing parts of an avatrice college au for two gd years now. the ideas & writing are scattered between here (one of the tags below should work), my whatsapp convos with @snowandwolves, on discord, my dinosaur laptop that crashes, & my email. it’s a fucking disaster but whatever so am i & not once in my life have i had my shit together so this is all unsurprising.

SO what i’m saying is, here’s the only part i have ‘formally’ written in fic form bc i posted that other ficlet. doing this made me almost throw my dino laptop & my phone out a window on several occasions—that’s why there isn’t more. but i just wanna share this.

more notes & rambles at the end.

//

You notice her because it's syllabus week of your freshman year, it's an 8 AM class, and you're fairly confident you're still drunk from the party you attended last night, but she raises her hand and correctly answers a question posed by your theology professor without hesitation. Your professor, Father Vincent, was likely hoping for a good guess at best, but there she is, exceeding expectations from the moment she speaks. You pickup on an accent, which you would find incredibly attractive if you weren't so thrown by her perfect and concise response, like a well-prepared speech is always readily accessible in the back of her mind—a girl with all the answers. A young woman, really. 

You, however, are not—you're just a girl. You're just a girl who shows up to her morning classes smelling like the bar or the house party from the night before, like the weed you started smoking almost immediately upon arriving to university during orientation week, like the cigarettes you smoke because it affords you a little more quiet outside and an excuse to borrow a lighter and talk to a cute boy or a pretty girl.

You're just a girl who technically died, existed in nothingness for a whole minute before being ripped back into a reality of blank ceilings and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears. You're just a girl strangers prayed for after they heard about the American child pulled from the wreckage. You're just a girl who didn't get any credit for teaching herself to stand again, to walk again—and if you’re being completely honest, you’re a girl who’s incredibly bitter that a god you never saw in that one minute got all the credit and none of the blame—for taking your mother from you, for taking years from you that had to be spent healing from god’s grace or lack thereof. 

You're just a girl who is tired of being told to look at her life as an expression of holiness, who thinks it is more so the consequence of indifferent stardust. But you still look for the beauty in that, in humanity and its flaws—these meaningless beings in a vast universe, creating and destroying their own little, myopic worlds on this spinning rock. Some will dream of poetry for their lovers, and some will dream of arsenals to level cities. You wonder how many lips were pressed together in a final kiss versus hands clasped together in prayer when fire fell from the sky in the name of God. You wonder what that says about faith.

You'd like to think if your mother could see you, she'd laugh at the irony because once you were baptized, she never took you to church. God finds a way, so you spent five miserable years in a Catholic orphanage before you were sent back to America. People said you were lucky to have two years in a foster family at your age, but it felt like living with strangers who were tasked with the minimum of keeping you alive. Then you were moved into a home for teen girls with a nun at the helm, and that’s where you actually felt fortunate for the first time in years. It was there that Mother Superion helped you with your studies and college applications. So here you are, tipping into a hangover in one of the oldest buildings on campus, learning theology from a priest.

But your mom would understand. (You don’t remember much of her, and you try not to think about that too deeply, or else you have to deal with the resulting ache that comes from reaching inside yourself for something that’s gone.) You have spliced together what you can recall into a short reel—you mom buckling into your car seat while humming a show tune, showing you how to fold a pizza slice and telling about a city famous for their pizza, and holding your hand in a museum in Spain, promising to take you to another big museum closer to home, the home you never saw again. So you promised yourself and the parts of her you carry that you’d make it here.

You would have had to pay almost full tuition if you wished to attend your reach, requiring immense debt, so you ended up at the school that offered you a ticket to the city and a hefty enough scholarship you could get through four years without requiring loans or a full-time job to afford it. (You first refused to use your mother’s death as a sob story in you application letter, but Mother Superion put her hand on yours and said, So rarely do these letters contain truth, but do not be afraid to tell yours. In telling your truth there is a sadness, yes—and I know you detest pity—but of all the things that have been taken from you, do not feel guilty for taking some of it back to live a better life.) You remember getting your acceptance letter, and looking up at the sky and flipping it off, praying whatever god hears you, No thanks to you!

But your bitterness temporarily takes a backseat in your mind as you look at your classmate, beautiful in the refracted light shining through the stained glass window, speaking so graciously of god you'd think Jesus were in the room, about to hand her his latest work. It's poetry, bordering on scripture in a new tongue, and you'd almost be a believer if it didn't sound as if she had repeated these words—practiced—enough times to believe them herself. You wonder what that says about her faith.

If the nuns at the orphanage had spoken the gospel as she does, maybe you'd be here for different reasons. You're fascinated.

Behold, you are beautiful…

//

i promise this fic gets lighter & has some silliness. so some notes/tangents:

this is 100% self-indulgence bc i heard ‘write what you know’ & ran with that shit. when i visited a friend at a state school in a college town i was so so confused bc it was just a diff campus culture entirely. then i was going to make this set in an ambiguous city, but i literally have saved places in google maps that would be great places to kiss someone sooooo you get NY avatrice.

likely setting this before instagram & smartphones bc i’m old/lazy & i can.

the title is from st. vincent who my friend introduced me to in college. “paris is burning” changed my brain chemistry & so i listened to her music on repeat for ages—“jesus saves, i spend” is on the same album.

father vincent will not be a bad man or evil professor. he will be as he was before adriel—a lost man who found himself through god & still a little broken but caring & devout.

also song of songs/song of solomon is like… the only part of the bible i fucked with in theology class so that’s the reference at the end. also another line used in another scene with JC, chanel, & ava written in v rough form. maybe will share that later.

this is meant to be a fic with a post-grad sequel as well. not much written of that but a lot of ideas everywhere.

once i figure out where i’m moving (hahahaha i’m so stressed), i’ll consider a ko-fi or something (i wish emails & names weren’t shown though). but mostly i will likely need a second job to save up for an actually good computer/macbook. once i have that i’ll be able to post on ao3.

anyway thanks for reading & being here :3