foreverisntenough · 2 days ago
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‘Movie Night’
Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 
Index:
Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!
Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!
Chapter 2 - Bruises | ‘Movie Night'
word count - 10.6k
Trent slumped down next to Noah, running a hand over his hair, his thoughts all over the place. It had been hard enough leaving you upstairs, seeing you so vulnerable, so close. Noah nudged him, a smirk playing on his lips.
“Mate, seriously—what is the deal with you two?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s putty in your hands, and you’re practically breathing down her neck. Thought you’d snap eventually but you just keep dragging it out.” Trent let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the couch. 
“I don’t even know, mate. I can’t keep this up. Every time I’m around her lately, it feels impossible to just… be her friend.” He shook his head. “But Jack would kill me, you know that.” Noah burst into laughter, shaking his head. 
“Trenty, it’s been years of this. You’re acting like this tension is new! This is, hands down, the longest and most intense case of foreplay I’ve ever seen. Even Jack’s gotta know by now.” Noah smirked. Trent rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty grin breaking through. 
“Yeah, but it’s different now. She’s… she’s not just Jack’s sister anymore. It’s like she’s looking at me the same way I look at her.”  He groaned and then he let out a shaky breath, feeling exposed for the first time. “And tonight—I feel like she’s slipping, no? Just hard to leave her room after all that. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Noah leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. “Mateeee.” Trent groaned once more for good measure. 
“Bro, you gotta sort this. You can’t go on like this forever.” He clapped Trent on the shoulder. Trent chuckled, a little embarrassed but unable to deny how much he wanted you. 
“I know. But I’m just trying to play it smart, you know? I don’t want to hurt her but Jack’s my boy.” Noah raised an eyebrow, laughing harder. 
“Play it smart? Just try not to trip over yourself sneaking back upstairs.” He teased. With one last laugh, Trent let himself sink into his thoughts of you, wondering how much longer he could hold himself back.
Another night of drinking to forget came. You knew it wasn’t the healthiest method, but it was maybe the most fun. The club was packed, pulsing with the beat of the music and the energy of people letting loose on a Saturday night. You had dragged Layla along with you to have a fun night out, a chance to unwind and forget about all the stress from the past week. You were in good spirits, laughing and dancing with Layla, letting the music take over. But everything shifted when you spotted him—your sort of ex, a footballer for Manchester United, Josh. If playing for that club wasn’t enough of a reason for you to hate him, he also was just an awful person.  He was standing by the bar, surrounded by his friends, looking as arrogant as ever. You tried to ignore him, but it was clear he had seen you too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pushed through the crowd, heading straight for you.
“YN!” he called out over the music, a mocking tone in his voice. “Long time no see.” You forced a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene but you knew this was being done to be rude.
 “Hey,” you replied shortly, hoping he’d get the hint and move on. But he didn’t.
“What’s the matter? Not happy to see me?” he jeered, leaning in closer than necessary. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, could see the malice in his eyes.
“I’m just here to have a good time with Layla,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “I’d rather not—” But he cut you off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 
“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You were always such a good girl, Y/N. Too good for the likes of me, right? Or maybe you’re just playing hard to get?” He sang in an obnoxious tone. You’d ‘split’ because you didn’t like each other enough. It was sex and that was about it. Josh particularly didn’t like that no matter what, you’d never look at him the way you looked at Trent and so he blamed the split on you. Despite him ending it, it was your wrong doing apparently.  
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, yeah? Fuck off.” Layla stepped in, sensing the tension. He sneered at Layla before turning his attention back to you. 
“What’s the matter, YN? Still pining after Alexander-Arnold? Aye just get it through that pretty little head, he’s never going to want you.” The words stung, sharper than you expected. You rolled your eyes and he didn’t take kindly to that. Even though you didn’t care for him anymore, his cruelness cut deep. Tears welled up in your eyes despite yourself.  Josh had never been the kind to hold back, not even in public. You had seen glimpses of his temper before, but tonight, it felt different—meaner, more deliberate. His words were mocking as his fingers gripped your arm with a force that made your skin sting, and as he leaned in closer, his words grew more venomous.  "What, are you going to cry now?" he spat, tightening his hold on you. His grip was firm, biting into your flesh with enough pressure to bruise. You winced, trying to twist free, but he only tightened his grip, his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you close to him, he was angry in a possessive way. You could feel the bruise forming under his touch, a dark mark that would remind you of this night long after it was over. You hated how he could make you feel so small, how he could strip away every ounce of confidence with just a few words and a harsh grip.
“Please just stop,” you snapped, your voice breaking. You tried to yank your arm away again, but he only pulled you closer, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He pulled you away from everyone so it was just the two of you. You felt a wave of shame, not just for the scene he was causing but for yourself—for letting him do this to you, for putting up with it, for not having the strength to push him away once and for all. Layla didn’t know what to do. So often you had said it was fine with him but right now it felt anything but.  You didn’t know why you even put up with him, why you had let him into your life at all. He had always been like this—aggressive, dominating, possessive,always needing to control every situation, even when you were out in public. It was as if he thrived on belittling you, on reminding you of every perceived flaw, every mistake you’d made.  He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 
“You’ll be nothing without me, know that?” he hissed, his grip tightening painfully. You flinched, the pain radiating up your arm. “You’ll always be nothing.” The tears blurred your vision, and you hated yourself for letting him see you cry. You hated how he still had this power over you, how he could reduce you to this—a sobbing, broken mess in the middle of a crowded club. You hated how he could strip you of your dignity with just a few cruel words and a tight grip on your arm. Somewhere in the haze of your thoughts, you found the strength to pull away. You jerked your arm back with a sudden burst of energy, managing to break free from his grasp. You stumbled back, cradling your bruised arm against your chest, the sting of the fresh bruise radiating through your skin. You looked up at him, your vision blurry with tears, your chest heaving with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration.
“I’m done. We’re done” you choked out, the words barely more than a whisper. “I get it. Just let it go, okay?” You whimpered. He just laughed, a dark, hollow sound that sent a chill down your spine. 
“You’ll be back, babe” he called after you as you tried to leave, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You always come back.”  You hated that you had gone back to him before, that you had let yourself get tangled up in his web of anger and possessiveness. The sex had been good—at least, that's what you told yourself. But he had cheated on you more times than you could count, though you were never really sure if it counted as cheating. Your relationship had always been undefined, a messy entanglement of emotions and misunderstandings. He was hypocritical, a storm ready to explode any time he saw you so much as smile at another man. And yet, there you were, always caught in the crossfire of his jealousy and rage. It didn’t matter what he did, his whole goal was to just have complete control over you and Trent threw a wrench in that. He especially hated Trent. It wasn't just because they played for rival clubs, though that was part of it. It was deeper than football. He saw the way your eyes lingered on Trent, the way your face softened when you spoke his name. He knew there was something there, a connection that went beyond friendly banter or casual attraction. Trent was everything he was not—calm, kind, successful in a way that made others admire rather than fear him. And you—God, he could see it—your feelings for Trent were written all over your face, in the way you laughed at his jokes, in the way you always seemed to find yourself at his side. He resented Trent for being everything he wasn’t and for being the object of your affections. You ootd to keep Josh’s behavior hidden from your brother, somehow managing to mask how fucked up it all was. Jack didn't know how deep your ex’s temper ran or how controlling he could be. But if he knew.. If Jack knew or even his friends knew but probably especially Trent knew… all hell would break loose.  So you’d learned how to swallow back the stories, pretending that everything was fine. 
“Can you just leave me alone,” you managed to say, your voice breaking. 
“You’re pathetic, you know that?” He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. “Does your brother know you slut yourself out for his best friend? What’s your dad think of that... Being a whore for the boys your brother trusts most… and your mum.. Oh well.. You wouldn’t know what she thinks of her slutty little daughter.” That was the last straw. You hated that you even trusted him enough that he had that bit of information about your life. You felt the tears spill over, and you turned and bolted, pushing your way through the crowd. You needed to get away, to breathe, to clear your head. Your heart was pounding, and your vision blurred with tears. You stumbled trying to get to the back hallway of the club, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Layla had seen enough. 
“Fuck you!” Layla screamed rushing over but when she turned to try to follow after you, you were lost in the crowds. Unbeknownst to you, Trent had been at the club too, celebrating with a few of his teammates. He had seen you running, and had noticed the distress on your face. Without a second thought, he followed you, his concern outweighing any questions about why you were there or what had happened. The flashing lights of the club blurred around you, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to spin faster with each passing second. The pounding bass reverberated through your chest, matching the erratic beat of your heart. You felt dizzy, your thoughts swirling like the flickering neon signs above. The laughter and shouts of the crowd melted into a distant, muddled hum as your vision began to swim. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and unchecked, as you stumbled through the throngs of people. The room felt like it was closing in on you, walls shrinking as the faces around you became distorted, like a nightmare you couldn’t escape. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one catching in your throat as you fought the rising tide of panic.
You could barely think straight, your mind a haze of confusion and pain. Everything felt wrong—your body, the people around you, the pounding music that seemed to pulse through your veins. You wanted to escape, to find a place where you could breathe again, but everywhere you turned, there were people, faces, eyes. It was too much, all of it pressing down on you, squeezing your chest until you thought you might break. Your legs felt heavy, your steps unsteady as if the ground were shifting beneath your feet. You pushed through the crowd, desperate for air, for space, for anything but this suffocating chaos. Your tears blurred your vision, and you wiped at her eyes, her hand trembling. Then, through the haze, you felt it—strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. At first, you panicked, thinking it was someone else, another stranger trying to touch you, but then you caught a familiar scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely comforting.
Trent.
Your body sagged with relief, your knees nearly buckling beneath you as you collapsed against his chest. His arms were solid and warm, encircling you like a protective barrier against the chaos of the club. You felt his hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as he whispered soothing words you could barely hear over the music. Then for the first time, Trent saw a bruise forming on your arm. His face was a mask of concern, his eyes darkening with anger as he took in the sight of you, your arm marked with the telltale signs of aggression. 
"Y/N," he whispered, stepping back before reaching out to gently lift your arm, his touch featherlight but steady. He turned it over, revealing the bruises that had already started to bloom in shades of purple and blue. His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened just enough for you to feel his rage simmering beneath the surface. "Who did this to you?" You tried to pull away, tried to hide the evidence of your shame and pain, but Trent wouldn't let go. It was so obvious it came from someone grubbing you too tight, being too rough in a way no one wanted. His hand held yours firmly, his thumb brushing against your skin as if he could erase the marks with a touch. 
"Please," you muttered, your voice breaking, "stop." you weakly begged.
"Y/N…" he insisted, his voice low and steady, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn't going to let this go. "Who…" He snapped demandingly. Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Trent's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in you attempting to tell him what just happened but he couldn’t focus on anything but how sad you looked, how broken. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms as if to shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything that had ever hurt you. In that moment, you felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever. His arms were your refuge, his strength your solace. Trent's blood boiled with a fury he rarely felt, his hands shaking with the need to do something—anything—to make Josh, who he knew it had to have been, pay for what he'd done. But then he saw your tear-streaked face, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back sobs, and all that rage took a back seat. His anger didn't matter right now; you mattered. Your body shuddered with each sob, and Trent felt a pang of helplessness in his chest. He wanted to tell you everything would be alright, that he'd take care of everything. He wanted to promise that no one would ever hurt you again. But he knew that words wouldn’t be enough, not now. So, he just held you tighter, letting you cry into his shirt, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the noise, anchoring you to the present. You buried your face against his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. The tears kept coming, but they were different now—less frantic, more a release of all the tension you had been holding onto. Trent’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss you had been teetering on. The world around you seemed to fade, the thumping bass and flashing lights dimming in comparison to the steady, comforting rhythm of Trent’s heartbeat against your ear. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, calming the storm that raged inside you. In his arms, you felt a safety you hadn’t known she needed—a reassurance that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.
“Just breathe for me,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and close to your ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.” You tried to do as he said, taking a shaky breath that caught in your throat. But with him holding you, the air seemed easier to draw in, the panic slowly ebbing away. The tears continued to fall, but now they were softer, quieter, as if his presence was slowly soothing the hurt you felt. For a moment, there was only you—no noise, no crowd, no chaos. Just the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his embrace. Trent held you tightly, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch grounding you in a way that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. You stood in there struggling to catch your breath as Trent's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke, grounding you in a way that felt comforting and electric all at once. He tightened his hold, his chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. But even as he tried to comfort you, a battle still raged inside him. Part of him wanted to go find Josh right then and there, to make him pay for every single bruise on your skin, every tear he'd caused. The other part of him—the rational part—knew he needed to stay with you, to keep you safe and calm. And then there was the question he couldn't push away: Should he tell Jack?  Jack was his best friend, but Jack was also your brother. He deserved to know that his sister had been hurt, but Trent also knew how fiercely protective Jack was of you. If he told Jack, there’d be no holding him back, and things could spiral out of control. Plus, he wasn't sure if you'd want Jack to know—if you'd want your brother to see you in this vulnerable state.
"I got you," he whispered as his thoughts spiraled, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't felt in a long time. "I got you, okay?" You felt something break in that moment-a wall you'd kept up around yourself for so long. And when his lips brushed the top of your head in a soft kiss, something stirred inside you, a longing that had been quietly simmering for years. It felt like an opening. Your heart raced as you pulled back slightly, your gaze finding his, and in the dim light, his eyes softened, a silent understanding passing between you. You hesitated, but then, almost instinctively, you tilted up, pressing your lips to his. It was a tentative kiss at first, a question in every touch of your lips against his. Trent tensed, caught off guard, but he didn't pull away. He wanted this so instead, his hands found your waist, his fingers digging in ever so slightly as he kissed you back, the warmth of his mouth melting away the hurt that had clung to you since your ex's cruel words. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together, like a fuse that had finally been lit. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, years of unspoken attraction finally bubbling over. His hands roamed, his grip on you tightening as he leaned into you, pushing you up against the cool brick wall behind you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt like it was meant to be, like you'd waited your whole life for this moment. God, he wanted this… but not like this. This was wrong. So then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he looked at you with wide eyes, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper. 
"What...Y/N… what are we doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his fingers still lingering on your skin. The conflict in his eyes was clear, and it sent a pang through your chest. But you didn't care about the doubts racing through his mind. You leaned in again, refusing to let go of this feeling. To remind him how very right this wrong was. The kiss was softer this time, gentler, but just as consuming. You poured everything into it—all the years of longing, the quiet, unspoken feelings, the ache you'd felt every time you saw him with someone else. And for a moment, he gave in, his lips moving against yours like he'd been holding back for years. You could feel him wanting more but then, with a deep sigh, he pulled away once more, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. "Y/ N... we can't. I can't," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry. I just..." He muttered. The rejection cut deeper than you expected, the pain raw and immediate. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you took a shaLay step back, your heart pounding with a mix of heartbreak and anger.  
"Fuck you!" you cried, your voice trembling. It felt like the walls you'd let down were crashing back up, each one harder than before. You turned on your heel, ready to escape before he saw you fall apart completely. But he reached out, his hand grazing your arm, as if he couldn't quite let you go. You recoiled, stepping back, your expression a mix of pain and anger. 
"Wait," he pleaded softly, but you yanked your arm from his grasp, your heart shattering as you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him behind with the lingering taste of regret on his lips. Trent’s heart ached seeing the tears well up in your eyes again.  You turned and ran, pushing your way back through the crowd, your vision blurred with tears. You didn’t care where you were going; you just needed to get away from him, from the humiliation and the heartbreak. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you fled, but you didn’t look back. Trent watched you go, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wanted to run after you, to explain, to somehow make it right, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He knew you needed space, needed time to cool off. But as he stood there, the guilt and worry gnawed at him. He had never wanted to hurt you, but in trying to protect you, he feared he had done exactly that. The sounds of the club grew louder around him, but Trent felt miles away, lost in his thoughts. He knew he’d have to find a way to make this right with you, to explain himself, and to make sure you knew how much he cared. But for now, all he could do was watch you disappear into the crowd, your absence leaving a painful ache in his chest. Trent leaned back against the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Some of his teammates who he was out with came over. They were giving him confused looks, clearly curious about the scene they had just witnessed. From their perspective, he had chased after to a a teary-eyed girl, who then kissed him like her life depended on it, and then, just as quickly, pulled away with a broken ‘fuck you.’ They had questions.
“Mate, what was that about?” one of them asked, laughing awkwardly, unsure how to react to the tension still lingering in the air.
“Bro, was that…” Another piled on cautiously, recognizing you. Trent ran his hands over his face, trying to shake off the flood of emotions. He glanced toward the crowd, desperately scanning for you, but you’d disappeared into the sea of people. His chest tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of what just happened settle in. He couldn’t explain it, not to them, not in a way that made any sense. 
“Yeah, was Jack’s sister.” He muttered after he took a deep breath, eyes still flicking toward the direction you’d gone. The second those words left his mouth, Trent knew something had shifted inside him. It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it felt bigger than that. It felt like a realization he’d been avoiding for too long. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You were his everything. And the truth of that hit him like a freight train, leaving him standing there, breathless and rattled.
“Fuck, mate. That’s complicated.”  One of his teammates whistled, finally connecting the dots.
“Yeah,” Trent breathed out, his mind racing. It was beyond complicated. Jack was his best friend, and you… you were the girl who had been slowly slipping from childhood crush to something deeper, something dangerous. He shook his head, his thoughts swirling. The way you’d kissed him tonight, the hurt in your eyes, the fire in the way you’d pulled away—it was like everything had boiled over, and Trent had been too slow to catch up. He’d rejected you, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted you too much. He couldn’t handle the idea of hurting Jack, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. But now, standing there with his teammates still glancing at him for answers, he realized that line had already been blurred for a while. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You hadn’t been for a long time. And now, Trent wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise. As the music pulsed around him, Trent felt a shift. He needed to find you, needed to figure out what came next, no matter how messy it got. Because, after tonight, he knew he couldn’t go back to seeing you as just Jack’s little sister. You were more than that. You always had been. 
After leaving Trent behind, you had stumbled back into the chaos of the dance floor, your heart pounding and your emotions a tangled mess. You had felt rejected and humiliated, and in a haze of frustration and alcohol, you made a poor decision. You spotted a man at the bar—a tall, handsome stranger who had been eyeing you all night. Without much thought, you walked up to him and struck up a conversation. His flirty smile and eager compliments were a welcome distraction from the pain you felt. When he suggested you leave together far sooner than appropriate, you didn’t hesitate. You just wanted to forget, to numb the ache in your chest caused by Trent's rejection. You told Layla you felt sick and had needed to leave. She knew it was a farce but she also knew she couldn't stop you. She assumed it was just Josh being an ass she had no idea you had just kissed Trent. She called and called to find you; to leave with you but you just texted saying it was all fine. But as the night unfolded and you found yourself in the stranger's bed, you quickly realized how hollow it all felt. The sex was awkward and unfulfilling, a stark contrast to the passion you had imagined when you thought of Trent. You found yourself comparing the man to Trent in every way—his touch, his movements, the way he spoke to you. Every comparison only made you miss Trent more. You knew deep down that Trent would have been different—gentler or maybe rougher but definitely more attentive, more real. Tears stung your eyes as you lay there, regretting your impulsive decision. This was a low. By the time morning came, you left the stranger's place without a word, feeling emptier than before. You hadn’t heard from Trent since that night. Part of you was relieved, thinking it was better this way—less complicated. But another part of you ached for him, for his presence, for the safety you felt in his arms. 
You’d stumbled in through your front door just after dawn, your steps heavy and uneven, your head pounding with every movement. Jack was already up, a coffee mug in hand, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lazy grin. 
“Rough night?” he joked, his eyes barely glancing up from his phone. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” You tried to muster a response, but all that came out was a soft hum, barely audible over the sound of the coffee machine. Your shoulders slumped as you shuffled over to the fridge, your body moving on autopilot. The sting of tears was still fresh in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall again, not in front of him. Jack finally looked up from his phone, his grin fading when he saw the look on your face. He straightened up, setting his mug down on the counter, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more serious.  You just hummed again, the sound weak and empty. You didn’t have the energy to explain, didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his gaze. Jack took a step closer, his concern growing. “You sure?” he pressed gently, sensing something was wrong. “You don’t look so good.” You just shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest aching with the effort of holding everything in. You needed to get out of there, away from his questions and his worry. You couldn’t deal with it, not now.
“I’m fine,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was a lie, and you knew he could see right through it, but you didn’t care. You needed to be alone, to let yourself fall apart without an audience. Jack watched you, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, but he didn’t push any further. He just nodded, letting you go. He knew you knew he was there if you needed him. 
 “Alright,” he said quietly, stepping back. “But if you need anything...” You nodded, not waiting for him to finish. You turned and headed upstairs, your steps heavy and slow. As soon as you reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came.  The weight of the night before crashed down on you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through your chest. The shame, the regret, the confusion—it was all too much. You’d thought you could handle it, thought you could keep it together, but now, alone in your room, it all felt too heavy to bear. You cried until there were no tears left, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. And when you finally stopped, when the tears finally ran dry, you were left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest and the haunting memory of Trent’s rejection.
You were absolutely mortified. You had kissed Trent. How could you have done something so reckless? You laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling on Layla’s bed at her place, your mind racing in sheer panic. Every nerve in your body felt on edge, replaying that moment over and over. What was worse was that it never happened before, not even close, but something had come over you—like instinct taking over reason—and now you regretted it. Layla shifted beside you, sensing your turmoil. 
“Come on, it won’t that bad,” she said in an attempt to soften the blow. You groaned, rolling onto your side to face her. 
“No, Lays. I can never, ever see him again.” The words came out in a rush, your voice cracking under the weight of your embarrassment. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. 
“That’s not true.” She told you. You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, your breath shaking. 
“It is! I crossed the line. And he… rejected me.” The last part was barely a whisper, like speaking it aloud made the sting of it even worse. You felt your face grow hot, the emotions swelling until they spilled over. The rejection was unbearable, and before you knew it, tears slipped down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” you said, your voice wavering between a sob and a chuckle. Layla immediately wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close. 
“No, it’s not just tiredness,” she murmured into your hair, holding you tightly. “This sucks. The boy you like just said no. That’s a lot to handle, but we move.” You stayed in her embrace, taking in her warmth, but her words only made your heart ache more.
“I’m not even sure if I just like him,” you admitted, voice small and hollow as you pulled away slightly to look at her. Layla’s face twisted in confusion. 
“What?” she asked, blinking, and then a knowing look crossed her face as she softened. “Oh no. Babe…” You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. 
“I mean, I do… but it’s more complicated than that. It’s not just like.” The weight of the word hung in the air between you both, unspoken but understood.
“You love him,” Layla said quietly with a frown she couldn’t control, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But maybe right now, the feeling of love is for your friend.” She paused, her eyes full of sympathy. “You don’t need to hurt yourself imagining anything more, okay? Not right now.” You bit your lip and nodded, the tears still threatening to spill over. You were exhausted, heartbroken, confused.  You knew you loved Trent as Jack's best friend, as a friend of your own but you had never had an intimate relationship to say you loved him any deeper than that. The thought of those feelings right now though were making you sick.
“But what if I can’t face him? What if it’s too awkward?” Layla shook her head and gave you a reassuring squeeze. 
“You’ll bounce back. Trent’s nice. He’s not going to make fun of you for this or make it weird. You two have been friends for too long for that.” But deep down, you couldn’t shake the sting of rejection. Maybe Layla was right—Trent wouldn’t make fun of you, but things weren’t the same anymore. Not after this.
When Jack invited Trent along with all the other boys over for a movie night a few days later, Trent was hesitant. He knew you might be home, and he wasn’t sure how you’d feel seeing him. But Jack was his best friend, and Trent figured maybe it was time to face the music. As Trent walked up to Jack’s front door, his nerves were on edge. He took a deep breath and knocked, his mind racing with what he might say if you were there. The door swung open, and Jack greeted him with a grin, pulling him into a quick hug.
“All good, mate?” Jack said, stepping aside to let Trent in. But Trent only hummed. He managed a smile, following Jack inside. He glanced around the living room, half-expecting to see you curled up on the couch. But the room was empty. “Y/N’s out,” Jack said casually, noticing Trent’s quick survey of the room. “I think she’s been a bit off lately. Haven’t seen much of her.” Trent nodded, trying to hide his relief that you weren’t home but sadness Jack noticed things were off.. 
“Yeah, I haven’t seen her either,” he replied, his voice steady despite the churn in his stomach. Jack grabbed a bottle of water and handed one to Trent.
“She seemed pretty fucked up when she came back from a night out but didn’t tell me much, though.” Trent took a long sip of his water, not sure how to respond.  Jack and Trent were sitting in silence on their phones only best friends could sit in whilst waiting in the kitchen for the other boys to show up. Trent kept glancing toward the hallway, waiting for the moment you would come home. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to somehow make things right. But as the minutes ticked by and there was no sign of you, a sense of unease settled in his chest. The sound of a key turning in the front door caught Trent’s attention. He tensed, his heart quickening as he heard the door open and close. A few seconds later, you appeared strutting through the house, your face mildly flushed from the summer heat outside. You froze when you saw Trent sitting there, your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. 
“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice tight.
“Hey,” Trent replied, his eyes locked on you.  Jack, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. 
“Hey, Y/N. Weird vibe but erm.. Lads are watching Shawshank tonight. Want to join?” He asked, trying to lessen whatever awkwardness just flooded the room. You shook your head, avoiding Trent’s gaze. 
“No, thanks. I’m just going to head to my room.” Jack looked between the two of you, frowning slightly. 
“You sure? You haven’t been out here much lately.” He cooed gently. 
“I’m sure,” you smiled sympathetically at your older brother. You appreciated him caring but this was far from something he could help with. You turned and disappeared down the hallway without another word. Trent watched you go, the weight of your unfinished business hanging heavy in the air. He knew he needed to talk to you, to explain himself, but he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen. For now, all he could do was sit and wait, hoping for a chance to make things right.
You had spent the last few days trying to keep yourself busy, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t get Trent out of your mind. Trent, on the other hand, was torn between worry and respect for your space. He had tried to find you that night at the club, but it was like you had vanished into thin air. He didn’t want to push you, especially after how things had ended between you. Still, the thought of your hurt and alone gnawed at him. Trent thought about that kiss everyday and how much withstraint he was having to practice. He wanted to rip your clothes off, he had to stop his hands' magnetic pull to grab your ass. It was a typical movie night—Jack had all the boys over for another film. They’d yell through the whole thing and gossip in a way they’d claim only girls did. You knew the drill by now, but tonight felt different. You hadn’t seen Trent since that moment, the kiss that had turned everything upside down. You tried to ignore how awkward things were between you and trent but you were dying of thirst and you weren’t sure if dying of embarrassment of dehydration would be worse, You settled on dehydration so you moved quickly through the house, attempting to avoid where all the boys were, but Trent wasn’t going to let it go. He heard you try to sneak into the kitchen.
“Y/N,” he called out quietly, coming into the room behind you and taking a few steps toward you. You froze, your back to him, the tension thick in the air. You could hear Jack in the cinema complaining about something, completely oblivious you’d hoped. You weren’t ready for this, not now, not when your emotions were so raw.
“Please, I don’t want to talk to you,” you said firmly, your voice low, trying to keep the emotion out of it.
“Y/N, come on… just give me a minute,” he persisted, his voice filled with a quiet plea.You whipped around, eyes already welling up. 
“Trent, I really don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, trying to hold your composure. “Frankly, I’m having a hard time even just seeing you right now, so please,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. You could feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill. His face softened, but he didn’t move.
“I just want to talk. Please,” he said, sounding desperate now, like he was grasping at straws. But you couldn’t do this. Not here. Not with Jack just a few rooms away. You shook your head, blinking back tears, but one escaped anyway. 
“I don’t want to talk,” you choked out, your voice shaLay, as the tears began to build along your lash line. Trent stood there, helpless. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do, caught between wanting to comfort you and knowing that he couldn’t—not here, not now. You could see the frustration and guilt etched on his face, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this.
“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. But you just shook your head again and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, stuck in the mess that neither of you had any idea how to clean up. And the worst part was, Jack was still there—completely unaware of the storm brewing between you two, his heart left open to wounded arguably as much as yours if you couldn’t sort this.
Trent thought about that drunk, tearful kiss at the club every single day. It replayed in his mind over and over, the taste of it, the way your lips had trembled against his, the way your hands had gripped onto him like he was the only thing anchoring you. He hadn't even expected it—had been caught off guard by how much he wanted it too. But then, the reality had hit him hard. The restraint he had to practice afterward felt like torture. It felt like trying to fight a g force the way his hands moved on your body. He wanted to rip your clothes off that night, to give in to the magnetic pull that constantly drew him to you. But he couldn't. Not like that. Not when you were drunk and emotional. Not when it could ruin everything. Now, the moment haunted him, and he was stuck in the limbo of not knowing what to do next. What if you regretted it? What if that kiss had meant something completely different to you than it did to him? And what scared him the most-what kept him up at night-was the realization that he didn't just want the kiss. He wanted more than that. He wanted you in a way that wasn't just about desire or physical attraction. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who you leaned on, who you could trust with all the messy bits of life. But what if he'd already blown his chance? What if that kiss had been the beginning of the end rather than the start of something more? 
This tension carried on for days. Neither you or Trent making any further attempts at sorting it. Trent sat at a restaurant with Jack and Noah one night, completely lost in his own thoughts. His fork hovered above his plate, food untouched, as he stared blankly at the table. Jack, noticing how quiet he’d been, shot Noah a look. They’d been trying to get him to open up all night, but nothing was working.
“Mate, seriously, what’s going on?” Jack finally asked, setting down his drink. “You’ve barely said two words.”
“Yeah, you’ve been in your own head all night. Go on.” Noah chimed in. Trent talked nonstop all the time so this was very out of character and it’d been going on for over a week. Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure if this was something he should even bring up, especially not with Jack sitting right there. But the weight of what happened between him and you had been pressing down on him for days, and he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He ran a hand over his hair, debating how to word it without setting off alarm bells.
“Have you ever…” he began slowly, his voice low, “turned down a girl and then immediately regretted it?” He sheepishly asked his eyes, flicking to both boys trying to gauge their responses. 
“Nah, mate. If I turn her down, it’s for a reason.” Noah, always the confident one, scoffed.
“Yeah, once or twice. Why?” But Jack, ever the romantic, leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful nod. Trent’s eyes flickered between them, his stomach churning as he chose his next words carefully. He had to be vague, had to make sure Jack wouldn’t catch on.
“There’s this girl…” he started. He hesitated, feeling the weight of his own words. “She kissed me, but she was drunk, so I pushed her away. Now she’s pissed, and she won’t talk to me.” Trent hesitantly explained. Trent wasn’t normally shy talking about women so this whole thing was very confusing for his friends.
“So why did you turn her down if you’re this worked up about it?” Noah’s brow furrowed.
“Because she was drunk!” Trent said, frustration lacing his voice. He looked down at the table, unable to meet their eyes. “I didn’t want it to be like that.” Jack shrugged, clearly puzzled. 
“That’s more than valid, mate. If she was drunk, you did the right thing. Why wouldn’t she understand that?” Trent groaned inwardly, knowing he couldn’t explain the real reason behind his frustration without giving too much away. The truth was, he didn’t want just a drunken kiss. He wanted more than that—something real, something that wasn’t just swept under the rug as a mistake.
“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice trailing off. Noah, always the one to push for action, smirked.
 “Next time you see her, just go for it. Easy.” He looked at Trent like he had solved his issue no problem. Trent couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of Noah’s solution. If only it were that easy. He wasn’t just dealing with any girl—this was you, Jack’s sister. It wasn’t something he could just ‘go for’ without thinking about the consequences. Jack, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward with a more serious expression. 
“Mate, just talk to her. Tell her you actually care about her and that you want it to be something she remembers, not something that happened when she was drunk. Simple as.” Trent’s heart sank. Jack had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what he wanted to say to you, but how could he? How could he tell you that he cared about you—really cared about you—when Jack was right there, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two of you? He tried to keep his expression neutral as Jack gave advice, but guilt gnawed at him. He was about to take his best mate’s advice and use it to get closer to his little sister. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and it made his stomach twist. But he couldn’t keep running from the situation. He had to talk to you, had to tell you how he felt before it drove him insane. Noah, oblivious to the deeper layers of the situation, laughed and gave Trent a light punch on the arm. 
“Yeah, man. What’s the worst that could happen? You talk, she listens, and you two figure it out, I imagine she’s leng.. Get her in bed. Done.” Noah quipped and Trent’s guilt worsened. He forced a chuckle, but his mind was already elsewhere. What was the worst that could happen? Jack could find out. He could lose his best friend. You could reject him, or worse—tell him that kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake. The thought made his chest tighten. But Noah’s lightheartedness didn’t calm Trent’s nerves. Jack’s advice, however, echoed in his mind—talk to her, tell her how you feel. Trent knew it was the right move, but the fear of rejection, of ruining everything, loomed over him like a dark cloud. As they finished dinner and paid the bill, Trent’s thoughts were already on what was coming next. He was heading to your house after this. You’d be there. Jack would be there. And somehow, amidst it all, he had to figure out how to have that conversation. As they walked to the cars, Jack patted Trent on the back. 
“You’ll be alright, mate. Just don’t overthink it.” Trent forced a smile, but his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the anxiety bubbling inside him. Jack’s words rang in his ears, and he knew he had to take the advice, but how? As Trent drove to your house, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He was about to walk into a house where everything could change in a matter of minutes. He wanted more than a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment—but what if you didn’t? What if that kiss had meant nothing to you? You only said you didn’t want to see him… were you just mad. He couldn’t tell.  Pulling into the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He had to talk to you. He had to try, even if it scared him to death
Trent awkwardly made his way into the living room, his heart pounding as he spotted you already seated on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. You looked adorable and it made him sadder. You were curled up in the corner, your eyes glued to the TV, but he could tell from the stiffness in your posture that you were aware of his presence. The soft glow from the screen cast a flickering light over your face, highlighting the tension in your jaw and the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should sit down. But with a deep breath, he took a seat next to you, careful to leave a respectful gap between you. The silence between you was thick, almost tangible, and he could feel the awkwardness settling over you like a heavy blanket. 
“Hey,” he said softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. You barely acknowledged him, giving a short nod without looking away from the TV. 
“Hey,” you replied curtly, your tone clipped. Trent’s heart sank a little at your cold reception. Never in his life had you greeted him like this and it was starting to eat at him but he couldn’t blame you. He knew he’d hurt you that night, and he was ready to face the consequences. He could imagine what he would feel like if you said no to him. Still, the distance between you now felt like a chasm, one he was desperate to cross. He kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the show, but he was acutely aware of every small movement you made—the way you shifted slightly, the soft sound of your breath, the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He wanted to say something, anything to bridge the gap, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you unyielding. Trent’s mind raced with what he could say or do to make things right. He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to overstep, but he also didn’t want to let this moment slip away without trying. Finally, gathering his courage, he reached out and gently placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee. It was a tentative touch, his fingers light and hesitant, but it was enough to make you stiffen slightly under his hand. You glanced down at his hand, then up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.
“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to upset you that night.” He cooed gently. Your gaze remained on his hand for a moment longer before you sighed, your shoulders relaxing a fraction. 
“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For… trying to kiss you. I was drunk and— Clearly that’s not something you want and I get that…” You earnestly and awkwardly were trying to apologize but Trent couldn’t help but chuckle softly, interrupting you. 
“You honestly think I didn’t want to kiss you back?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. He kept his eyes on the TV, a coy smile tugging at his lips.  “Trust me, Y/N, it took everything in me to stop.” You looked at him, a flicker of confusion mixed with curiosity in your eyes. 
“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. Trent’s smile faded slightly as he turned to meet your gaze. 
“Because you were upset and not in a good place. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, especially after what that asshole did to you.” You flinched at the mention of Josh, the hurt from his cruel words still fresh in your mind. You looked away, your eyes downcast. 
“He… he said some awful things. It wasn’t great,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Trent’s grip on you tightened just a fraction, his touch becoming more reassuring. You sat there, your heart pounding as Trent's words hung in the air. He'd never spoken to you like that-direct, unfiltered, like he'd been holding back for too long. The way he placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of every inch of contact, sent a spark straight through you. Your mind raced to keep up, to make sense of what was happening, but he was already pushing forward, his tone low, serious, like he needed you to understand.
"That kid's a fucking idiot for losing you," he said, his voice tight, almost angry. "Saying whatever he could to make you feel small... he doesn't know shit about you, and you know that. Right?" You nodded slowly, words caught in your throat. It was true-you did know, somewhere deep down. But hearing it from Trent felt different, grounding, and it made the sting of your ex's words fade, bit by bit. Trent's hand stayed warm on your thigh, a quiet promise in the small gesture. You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his face. You could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his brow furrowed slightly with concern. 
“You really think that?” You asked quietly, your voice tinged with disbelief. Trent nodded, a small, earnest smile playing on his lips. 
“I know that. You’re smart, occasionally  funny,” he teased with a glint in his eyes and your lips curled,  “you’re the sweetest girl I know, and—” he hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly, “—gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who can’t see that is a fucking donut.” He kept his eyes on the TV, trying to play it cool, trying to be nonchalant in case anyone else happened to come into the room but he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He risked a quick glance at you and saw a soft smile slowly spreading across your face. The sight of it made his own heart lighten, the tension between you beginning to ease.
"Trent.." you started, wanting to say something, anything, but he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of intensity in his eyes.
"You're beautiful," he interrupted, each word sounding heavier than the last. It was like he'd been carrying them around, waiting for the right moment to let them out. You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of nerves and thrill rushing through you as his gaze stayed locked on yours. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so it’d be impossible for anyone else to hear, his hand firm on your thigh. "And just so you know... that's not the way you get bruises. Never again. I'll fucking kill him if he ever comes near you." His eyes were dark, protective in a way that felt both comforting and incredibly dangerous. Then, in the midst of the tension, he smirked, the intensity softening into something else, something teasing. "The only bruises you ever get are from not being bored in the bedroom. Yeah?” Your breath caught, your face flushing as his words registered. You recalled telling when you split with Josh citing boredom in the bedroom as a problem but you were surprised he remembered that. Surprised he just said that to you. Before you could respond, he gave you a wink, that same smirk lingering as he stood up and walked away, leaving you stunned, heart racing, and desperate for him to come back.
You laid in your bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Trent. You could hear the low rumble of laughter drifting up from downstairs where Jack, Trent, and their friends were still hanging out. But your thoughts were miles away, lost in memories of Trent and all the moments you’d shared over the years. You closed your eyes and let the images flood your mind. The way he’d smile at you from across a room, a mischievous glint in his eyes, or the way he always seemed to find a reason to touch you—a hand on your shoulder, a playful nudge, his arm brushing against yours when they sat close. You thought about all the times he’d said sweet things to you, little compliments and comments that you’d always brushed off as friendly banter. You tried your entire life not to take the pet name ‘pretty girl’ too seriously, you always thought maybe he said that to every girl but now it felt personal and just for you. Was he talking about bruises in the bedroom in a sexual way, yeah 100% but did he mean that he would give them to you? Leave love bites on you? Your mind was racing.  But, lying there in the dark, you couldn’t help but wonder if there had been more to it. Your heart fluttered as you recalled the feel of his hand on your leg earlier tonight, the warmth of his touch and the firm yet gentle way he’d reassured you. You shivered, a pleasant tingle running through you as you thought of all the times his hands had been on you, even in the most innocent of ways. His touch always left a lingering warmth, a sensation that seemed to seep under your skin and settle deep within you, leaving you longing for more. You bit your lip, a wave of desire washing over you. In your longing haze, you wondered if maybe you’d been missing something all along. Had Trent been flirting with you all these years, in his subtle, teasing way but in all seriousness, did he want something? Was there something real to your relationship that you hadn’t let yourself see? Was it more than teasing? The thought sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation. Your fingers itched to reach for your phone, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed it from your bedside table. You couldn’t shake what he said to you, Trent had made it clear-it wasn't that he wasn't interested. Now, you were ready to take the risk, fully aware that all the boys were together. It was dangerous, maybe even reckless, but that only made it more exhilarating. They were watching a movie in the cinema room, the lights dimmed, everyone absorbed in whatever action scene was playing on the screen. You were upstairs in bed, restless and buzzing with anticipation. You flipped your phone camera to 0.5 to catch yourself at a high angle, tits prominently displayed in your thin bralette, the flash making your nipples obviously visible. You typed out a message, your fingers moving faster than your brain could catch up.
"Is this the appropriate place to get those bruises you were talking about?"
You pressed send, heart pounding in your chest. The silence afterward was deafening as you waited for a response. It was insane you just did this, but you couldn't back out now. A part of you wished you could retract it but there it was… ‘read.’ Trent opened the message, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked, unsure if he'd seen it right, unsure if you had actually sent it. This was the first time you'd ever texted him directly. Sure, you'd always been in the group chats-always flirty in your usual playful way-but nothing like this. The last personal message you'd sent was your order for a takeaway months ago, and before that, it had been something for your birthday and then passport details for a trip that seemed forever ago. A trip you weren’t sure why you were invited on to begin with but it was one where you'd teetered on the edge of something more with him but never quite tipped over. Now you had pushed things over that fragile edge with a stupid text. There was a reason for the limited texts though, because you knew it’d lead to something just like this. Trent swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the image, the words beneath it repeating in his head. He couldn't let the boys see this but he also didn’t want to look away. He couldn’t… but he had to.
Quickly, he swiped out of the message, his phone burning hot in his hand. He shoved the phone into his lap, screen down, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the visual of you barely in that bralette. He felt a slow, stupid grin spread across his face despite his best efforts. His heart was racing, and he could feel the tension building inside him. He knew things were spiraling. He'd always told himself this was a line he couldn't cross, but now? Now, it felt inevitable. Trent moved, his thumb hovered over his phone. He dimmed the screen, adjusted his seat in the chair, trying to play it cool making sure the other boys were none the wiser. His mind was racing, wondering if this was you really finally putting your hat in the ring. And god, if it was... there was no way he could say no. Now, all that was left was his response. Trent took his time responding, trying to be as calculated as possible. You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for his response. The dots appeared then disappeared only to reappear, showing he was typing back, and your heart leaped into your throat. What was he going to say? Had you gone too far? You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with a hint of fear. But underneath it all was a simmering excitement you couldn’t deny. You could practically feel the tension building in the air around you. Finally, your phone buzzed with a new message, and you hesitated before opening it, your pulse racing…
Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!
Next part - Chapter 3 - Crossed A Few Lines xx
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himasgod · 1 day ago
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🎃How would they spend Halloween night with their partners? Mondstadt! version 🎃
(All! Mondstadt Characters x you! (separated))
LIYUE VERSION
INAZUMA VERSION
SUMERU VERSION
(I think I didn't forget anyone 😭😭 I had a lot of fun doing this, I hope you like it! 100 words per character)
Diluc is reserved, and though Halloween isn’t his favorite holiday, he’s determined to make it a special night. He leads you to a secluded corner of the vineyard, where he’s prepared a small bonfire. The night is filled with ancient stories of Mondstadt, some so dark that it sends shivers down your spine. Diluc doesn’t wear a costume, but there’s something about his elegant dark coat and intense expression that makes him look like a gothic hero from legend. He takes your hand and, with a half-smile, promises to protect you from any “specters” that roam the night, but it’s clear that he’s the one who makes you feel in danger… although not in a bad way.
Kaeya, being the prankster that he is, takes you to a costume party in Mondstadt. He shows up dressed as a vampire, hinting at his mysterious personality. All night long he tells you creepy stories in your ear, letting his soft, whispery words make your skin crawl. As the night comes to an end, Kaeya takes you by the hand and leads you to the outskirts of Mondstadt, saying that he wants to “show you something special.” He leads you to a hill where the stars seem to shine even brighter, and there, under the moonlight, he whispers an loving words to you that leaves your heart racing.
For Venti, Halloween is the perfect opportunity to host an evening filled with songs and scary tales. He takes you to the Cider Lake, where he has organized a small bonfire with some close friends. Venti is dressed as a ghost, a simple costume but one he plays with exaggeration, floating back and forth, looking to playfully scare you. He sings you a ballad about a lost spirit in Mondstadt, his enveloping voice filling the air. Although you are surrounded by friends, at some moments he whispers things to you just for you, creating a charming and intimate atmosphere, as if you were in his own Halloween spell.
Albedo is more observant of Mondstadt customs than an active participant, but he lets himself be convinced to celebrate with you. He invites you to Dragonspine to “see the cold light phenomenon on Halloween night.” The snow sparkles under the moon, and as you walk along, he explains the scientific and magical origin of each phenomenon. He tells you stories of Dragonspine’s creatures, and at some point he falls silent, watching your reactions. Although his explanation is completely logical, you can’t help but notice the mystery surrounding Albedo, especially when he smiles enigmatically at you and takes your hand to guide you on the way back.
Jean is always so busy that Halloween is one of the few times you can convince her to take a break. She doesn’t dress up, but she has planned a little outing just for you two. She takes you to a quiet corner of Mondstadt where she’s prepared a candlelit dinner. Though she doesn’t consider herself good at telling scary stories, she tries to tell one she heard from Lisa, but can’t help but laugh when she gets to the “spooky” part. At the end of the night, Jean lets her composure go for a moment, leaning into you and whispering how much she appreciates these peaceful moments with you.
Halloween is the perfect time for Lisa to have fun with you, and her plan includes a night of potions and magic. She invites you to her personal library, where she has prepared a mysterious ritual of sorts. Dressed in a dark cloak, she teaches you how to make an “eternal love” potion (just for fun, or so she says). She tells you stories of ancient witches, looking at you with her bright green eyes full of playful mischief. At midnight, she tells you that you can’t break the “spell” until you give her a kiss, and she won’t settle for a small one.
Halloween isn’t a family holiday for Razor, but he’s determined to do something special with you. He takes you out into the forest of Wolvendom and shows you how to build a campfire. He doesn’t quite understand scary stories, but he tries to tell you legends he’s heard about wolves that somehow sound that much more chilling in his low, raspy voice. The night is filled with the sounds of nature, and Razor, though he doesn’t speak much, stays close to you, staring at you with an intensity that says much more than he could ever put into words.
Sucrose is preparing a night of science with a spooky twist. In her lab, she has created a series of experiments inspired by the Halloween theme. She shows you how certain potions change color and emit smoke when they come into contact with certain substances. Each experiment has a scientific explanation, but she also allows you to have fun trying and playing with each mixture. At the end, as a surprise, she gives you a small luminous flower that she created for you, saying that it will be your amulet on dark nights.
Bennett is the one who really wants Halloween to be perfect for both of them, although due to his good (or bad) luck, many things don't go as planned. He takes you to explore some of the ancient ruins of Mondstadt in hopes of seeing ghosts, but you end up tripping over branches and falling into puddles. Despite all the mishaps, Bennett laughs and makes every little accident into a fun adventure. In the end, he apologizes for the unexpected events, but you know that the true magic of the night was spending it with him.
Mika is shy but excited to spend Halloween with you. He takes his costume seriously, showing up in a dark cloak and carrying a small lantern to “scare” you. While he’s not exactly scary, you find his efforts adorable. He takes you on a nighttime stroll around Mondstadt, guiding you down lesser-known routes and pointing out points of interest while telling you anecdotes about past explorations. When he gets spooked by some noise in the night, you take his hand, and he smiles shyly, enjoying the moment with a calmness he rarely has.
Eula is a bit standoffish at first, saying that Halloween is just “another excuse to make noise,” but ends up hosting a dinner party at Lawrence’s house, just for the two of you. She’s dressed in an elegant, dark, classic costume that contrasts perfectly with her serious demeanor. During dinner, she tells stories about the old Lawrences in a sarcastic, tongue-in-cheek manner, but every now and then, you notice her giving you a genuine smile, especially when you try to make her laugh. At the end of the night, she leans over to you and, as “revenge,” asks for a kiss to close the evening.
For Rosaria, Halloween is the ideal night to explore the darkness of Mondstadt. She invites you to the Cathedral, where she has prepared a secret walk into the lesser-known areas of the building. With a candle in hand, she guides you through dark passages and whispers to you disturbing legends she has heard. She doesn’t need to dress up to give you the creeps; her mysterious presence does all the work. Halfway through the tour, she stops and leans towards you, making sure you know there is no one else in this part of the cathedral, just the two of you in the dim light.
Noelle strives to make Halloween perfect for both of you. She invites you to a night of “monster hunting,” where she has prepared a treasure hunt around Mondstadt filled with candy and small challenges. Wearing an adorable fantasy knight costume, she guides you through each clue with a sweet and cheerful smile. When the hunt is over, she takes you to a hill where she has prepared a blanket and a basket full of snacks. The night ends with stargazing and conversation, while she tries to remember some scary story she heard about the Knights, although in her ever-optimistic tone, it doesn’t turn out to be all that scary.
Amber is more excited than anyone for Halloween and has organized a night of adventures in the Mondstadt Woods. Dressed as a monster hunter, she takes you to a “base camp” she prepared, complete with flashlights, snacks, and maps. During the night, she has you participate in a scary story contest and at the end she fakes a surprise attack by Hilichurls that only results in laughter. Eventually, the night becomes quieter, and as you gaze at the stars, Amber smiles at you and tells you that she will always remember this Halloween with you.
Barbara decides to celebrate Halloween with you in the most “magical” way possible: by organizing a small costume party in the courtyard of the Cathedral. She dresses up as a charming sorceress and prepares “magic” snacks and drinks (which are basically juices with bright colors and light effects). She sings spooky songs for everyone in attendance and at some point in the night she invites you to dance under the stars. At the end, when everyone leaves, Barbara takes you by the hand and thanks you for making the night special, promising you that you will always have a special place in her heart.
Here is my masterlist, in case you are interested in any more of my work or want to send me a request <3
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commandershepardvasfuckit · 21 hours ago
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An Arranged Marriage, part 20
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19
M!troll x f!reader
1.2 k words
Two steps forward and one step back. Just because both of you admitted to wanting more doesn’t mean there’s not still a lot of unknowns and worries.
(I am feral over my own character, ask box is always open for talking about my writing or just monster fucking in general!)
————
Zen had pulled the covers up and over both of you, trying to block out the light while you very gently played with his hair to help him fall asleep. Medicine, tea, and left over pastries all consumed, it was now just time to sleep it off.
“I did not do anything too bad, did I?” he asked cautiously.
“What? When you were drunk last night?” you asked back.
“Yeah”.
“Nothing bad but you were an absolute pain when I was trying to wipe your face off. You kept trying to cuddle and nuzzle, which would have been sweet if you weren’t drenched and really needed your face cleaned”.
“Well, if that is the worst of it then that is not that bad, and it seems you did manage to eventually wipe me off at any rate”.
“I had to straddle you and pin you down to get you to hold still enough”.
“That is still not bad really, and I quite like being under you” he purred.
“I could tell, because when I tried to just lay on you and cuddle afterwards you wouldn’t stop grinding on my leg”.
“Oh” he said sounding a little embarrassed now.
“I ended up giving you a hand so to speak”.
“As in…?”
“As in you told me you liked my hands since they’re small and soft and feel better than using yours” you hinted.
“Oh spirits” he groaned.
“It’s fine” you smiled against his chest, “I mean you were such a good boy for me after all”.
You could not help but enjoy the soft sigh he let out in response to your words, how much he enjoyed the praise was rather endearing.
“And that is it? That is everything that that happened?” he asked.
“Well you got your shirt stuck on your tusks and couldn’t get it off, so I had to rescue you from that. And then you ended up getting cum all on your chest and stomach and when I went to get up to grab a washcloth to help you clean up you pulled me on you again so we both ended up being sticky”.
“I am so sorry” he sounded mortified now.
“It’s just cum. I mean I didn’t want to sleep sticky but it’s fine”.
“But that is it though?”
“Well” you began again, “You also told me that swallowing after the blowjob was attractive and were very concerned that it made you weird for liking it. Oh, and then even after you finished you still were grinding between my thighs so at that point I just rolled over and let you fuck my thighs until you fell asleep”.
Zen stayed silent, shifting uncomfortably for a while before finally saying something, “I am so sorry for how I acted, I did not mean to make you uncomfortable”.
“Uncomfortable? Zen you never made me uncomfortable. I was a little frustrated when you wouldn’t hold still for me to wipe your face, and sure I wouldn’t have chosen to sleep covered in cum, but you didn’t do anything wrong. We got drunk, you ate me out, then you drunkenly babbled and were horny, all very normal things” you assured him. You figured he would probably be a bit embarrassed over the babbling, but this was not the reaction you expected.
“Why would you think I was uncomfortable?” you asked.
“I was pushy, right?”
“No, you really weren’t. And even when I turned you down you didn’t push back or anything. I know I got weird and quiet earlier when you were talking but that wasn’t because of yesterday, I’m just not used to that sort of intensity, it’s wasn’t because you humped my leg” you laughed, hoping to drag Zen out of the beginning of what seemed to be a panic spiral.
“I did not want to get married” he said quietly.
“And I didn’t want to leave my kingdom. But this is where we are now and I don’t think it’s a bad place to be”.
“I know, and I am happy having you in my life so please do not be upset, but you always expected an arranged marriage even if this is not exactly how you expected it. I expected to ever marry, and if I did then I assumed it would be to someone I grew to know and love over time. I still do not know what to do. I never got the chance to love someone, to be together with someone truly, and now I do not know to do this”.
You kissed his chest and then nuzzled the spot you kissed. “I don’t know if it makes you feel any better, but I’ve never had the chance to have a relationship either, so this is all new to me too. And I never expected to actually have a real relationship in an arranged marriage, but this is honestly better than I expected to have”.
“I truly am glad that this is not awful for you, I would not be able to stomach it if you were miserable here, and I do not mean to sound callous, but I worry that while this is better than expected for you that it is not enough for me”.
It stung, and you were happy Zen could not see your face to see the hurt on it. The two of you rarely spoke about the conditions of your marriage, it was not like either of you could change it after all, but especially after he had just spoken about getting to know you and courting you it hurt to hear how upset over things he sounded.
“I thought you just said wanted to court me” you mumbled.
“I do. I want to get to know you, and fall for you, and know that if we met and got the chance to choose that I could say I would have chosen you, and you me. But I still barely know you and I hate that. I hate that you barely know me and I worry that we will get to know each other and not like the people we are.
“And maybe it is selfish, but I hope you will love me one day. I do not want a marriage where my wife just tolerates me, or is just alright with me. I want to be a good husband and person who you can love” he paused, “And I want to love you” he added quietly.
You had always been alright with the idea of loveless marriage as long as your husband was decent enough. It was fine for your parents, and everyone else in your social standing after all, it was just the culture.
Zen was kind, respectful, he took care of you, and was more than just a decent husband by far, but he needed things to be more than just decent between the two of you. He needed a lot more than you did.
“Then lets do that” you broke the silence.
“What?”
“Get to know each other better. We both already decided on that earlier anyways, and I know that now you’re worried about things not working, but I like the idea of loving my husband. I’d like to try” you nuzzled against him, hoping to reassure him.
He tightened his grip on you, and while it was faint you heard a slight purr, “I’d like that too”.
————
Tag list
@blushycadaver @hazyspacefairy @littlelovebug98 @tufflepuff23 @graveblanketgreen (won’t let me tag you)
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badger-tales · 13 hours ago
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Eddie Watch//E.M x Reader
Chapter 1/18
A/n: okay so way back in the day (2022) when stranger things season 4 was still being released I wrote this fanfic and its been on wattpad for ages but I re-wrote it recently and wanted to post it here!!! Also I'm posting from my phone bc my laptop still wont work!!!
Summary: Despite wanting to stay and fight, Y/n is assigned to Eddie Watch to make sure he 'doesn't Do anything stupid.' Reluctantly she agrees. Everything's fine. Everything's good. It's all just perfect.
Word count: 3.6k
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"Let me get this straight," she said, leaning forward over the worn cafeteria table. The ambient noise of chattering students and clattering trays seemed to fade as she fixed her gaze intently on her younger brother. Her eyes narrowed, giving him the impression of an intense interrogation rather than a casual lunchtime conversation. "You want me to be a stand-in for your Hellfire Club because Lucas bailed on you guys, and if you don't find a replacement, Eddie is going to kick your ass?"
Dustin let out an exasperated sigh, his shoulders slumping dramatically as he threw his arms up in frustration. "Yes, Y/N, those are the exact words that just left my mouth," he replied, his tone dripping with teenage annoyance. He ran a hand through his curly hair, making it stand on end even more than usual. "So, are you going to help us or not?"
A sly smile played on her lips as she leaned back in her seat, crossing her arms thoughtfully. She pretended to mull over his request, even though she had already decided. The prospect of diving back into a Dungeons & Dragons campaign for the first time since she was fifteen—since those long nights in Mike Wheeler's basement—was too tempting to pass up. But there was no harm in making Dustin sweat a little.
"What's in it for me?" she asked, arching an eyebrow mischievously. She watched as a look of mild panic crossed his face, clearly unprepared for negotiations.
She had to suppress a chuckle at the glare he shot her way, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Uh... cool shirt?" he offered hesitantly, the confidence in his voice wavering. It was more of a question than a promise.
She held his gaze for a moment longer, letting the silence hang between them. Then, a grin broke across her face. "Yeah, sure. My schedule's free. What time does it start?"
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Dustin exclaimed, relief washing over his features. He practically bounced in his seat. "It starts at four-thirty. Do you still have all your stuff?" he asked eagerly, already standing up as if ready to sprint off.
"Of course I do," she replied, rolling her eyes affectionately at his enthusiasm. "And I'm expecting that shirt before the campaign, by the way," she called after him as he hurried away, giving her a thumbs-up over his shoulder as he weaved through the crowded cafeteria.
---
Back at home, she sat cross-legged on her bedroom floor, surrounded by the familiar clutter of posters, books, and trinkets collected over the years. God, it had been too long since she'd even thought about this binder—three years, in fact. The last time she played was November 6th, 1983—the night Will went missing. A soft smile touched her lips as she opened the worn cover, flipping through pages filled with character sheets, campaign notes, and doodles along the margins. She paused at a drawing Will had made of their party during one of their most grueling campaigns, his artistic talent capturing the spirit of their adventures perfectly.
Finding her dice set proved more challenging. She rummaged through drawers and boxes, the minutes ticking by faster than she'd realized. Just as she was about to give up, she remembered the small shoebox tucked under her bed. Pulling it out, she lifted the lid to reveal a treasure trove of memories: a few ribbons from old competitions, faded Polaroids capturing moments frozen in time, and there, nestled among them, her favorite set of dice. She used to have several sets, but over the years she'd given them to Dustin or misplaced them. This particular set—a swirl of deep purple and gold—was her lucky charm.
Glancing at her watch, her eyes widened. 3:45 PM.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. Hastily, she stuffed her binder and dice into her bag, bolting out of her room. She nearly tripped down the stairs, snatching her car keys from the hook by the door.
She sped down the streets of Hawkins, the familiar scenery flashing by as she perhaps ignored a few traffic laws in her rush. Pulling into the Hawkins High parking lot, she spotted Dustin waiting on the steps, arms crossed and an impatient look on his face.
"Took you long enough," he said, thrusting a folded shirt into her hands. The black fabric bore the emblem of the Hellfire Club—a design that was both ominous and intriguingly detailed. "Hurry up and get changed, or we'll be late."
"It's not going to take me thirty minutes to get changed," she retorted, rolling her eyes as she pushed past him and headed into the school.
---
"Now, Y/N, I need you to understand something," Dustin said, halting her just outside the imposing double doors of the club room. The hallway was dimly lit, fluorescent lights flickering overhead with a faint buzz. Lockers lined the walls, adorned with a collage of stickers and graffiti. Dustin shifted nervously, glancing around before focusing his gaze on her. "These guys are major nerds—not like cool nerds like Mike and me, but textbook nerds," he began to ramble, his words tumbling over each other in his haste to explain.
She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Dustin, get to the point," she interjected, crossing her arms over her chest. The distant sound of a basketball bouncing echoed through the empty corridors, a stark contrast to their hushed conversation.
He took a deep breath, running a hand through his curly hair. "My point is, I doubt these guys have even spoken to a girl they aren't related to. So just cut them some slack if they're weird around you," he confessed, his cheeks tinged with a slight blush.
She chuckled softly, the sound echoing slightly in the quiet hallway. "Got it. I'll try not to terrify your friends," she teased, giving him a playful nudge on the shoulder.
Relieved, Dustin nodded and turned toward the doors. With a dramatic flourish, he pushed them open. "Our savior is here!" he proclaimed loudly, his voice echoing off the high ceilings as he kicked the door wider. The room fell silent almost instantly, the low murmur of conversation and the clatter of dice coming to an abrupt halt. It was as if someone had pressed pause on a remote, freezing the scene.
Rows of mismatched tables were pushed together to form a large gaming area, strewn with character sheets, scattered dice, and an array of snacks. Posters of fantasy landscapes and mythical creatures adorned the walls, their colors muted in the dim lighting. A haze of dust particles danced in the shafts of evening light filtering through the small windows.
Dozens of eyes turned to stare at them, a mix of curiosity, surprise, and suspicion evident on the faces peering over Dungeon Master's screens and stacks of rulebooks. It felt like walking onto a stage mid-performance.
"Hi, Y/N!" Mike called out enthusiastically from his seat near the center of the room, his face breaking into a wide grin. His lanky frame was hunched over a well-worn Player's Handbook, and he waved energetically, causing a few stray papers to flutter to the floor.
She returned his wave with a warm smile, feeling a bit of the tension ease from her shoulders. "Hey, Mike," she replied, her voice steady despite the dozens of eyes still fixed upon her.
"Who's this?" a boy with thick glasses and a skeptical expression demanded from across the room. His tone carried a hint of indignation, as if her presence was a breach of some unspoken rule.
Dustin stepped forward, undeterred. "The one and only Y/N Henderson—aka my big sister, aka the best D&D player to grace this planet," he declared with unabashed pride, puffing out his chest dramatically.
She laughed lightly, shaking her head at his antics. "You're so dramatic, Dustin," she chided, reaching over to tug the brim of his cap down over his eyes. He sputtered in protest, pushing it back up with an indignant huff.
"So you're the elusive Y/N Henderson," a smooth voice drawled from the head of the table. Eddie Munson leaned back in his chair, boots propped up on the table's edge. His dark curls framed his face, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he assessed her. Rings adorned his fingers, which tapped rhythmically against the arm of his chair. "We've heard tales of your wit and bravery. It's an honor," he continued, standing with a flourish to give an exaggerated bow, his leather jacket rustling with the movement.
Her gaze met his, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away. There was a challenge in his eyes, but also a hint of genuine curiosity. She felt a smirk tug at the corner of her lips. "Well, I couldn't let my little brother face certain doom without me," she replied, her tone light but edged with playful defiance.
Dustin beamed between them, clearly pleased with the exchange. "She's here to help us crush this campaign," he announced to the room, confidence radiating from him.
"Don't worry, Y/N; we'll make sure you don't die in the first hour," a boy with a mop of sandy hair and a smattering of freckles said from across the table, a teasing smirk on his face. He adjusted his wizard's hat—a battered accessory that had seen better days—and leaned forward on his elbows.
She arched an eyebrow, noting the amused glances Mike and Dustin exchanged. "Your level ten half-elf wizard is going to protect my level eighteen Tiefling fighter? Alright," she retorted smoothly, settling into the empty seat beside Mike. A few chuckles rippled through the group, and the initial stiffness in the air began to dissipate.
---
As the hours passed, Y/N found herself fully immersed in the game. The room was filled with animated voices, the rustling of paper, and the occasional clatter of dice on wood. The scent of old books mixed with the sweetness of soda and the salty tang of potato chips. Eddie's storytelling was captivating, his voice weaving vivid images that pulled them deeper into the fantasy realm.
"The hooded cultists chant, 'Hail Lord Vecna. Hail Lord Vecna,'" Eddie intoned, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper that sent a chill down her spine. The overhead lights seemed to dim, or perhaps it was her imagination as she became engrossed in the narrative. His eyes flickered with dark delight as he scanned each player, savoring their rapt attention. "They turn to you and remove their hoods. You recognize most of them from Makbar—their eyes hollow, lips curled into fanatic grins. But there is one you do not recognize."
Y/N leaned forward, her fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the table. A knot of anticipation twisted in her stomach. She exchanged a quick glance with Mike, whose eyes were wide with apprehension.
"His skin is shriveled, desiccated. And something else..." Eddie leaned in, the room holding its collective breath. "He is not only missing his left arm," he paused, the silence stretching taut like a drawn bowstring. "But his left eye!"
Gasps erupted around the table. "No way!" the boy with the wizard's hat exclaimed, nearly knocking over his character miniatures. "Vecna's supposed to be dead!"
"Kas killed him!" Mike protested, flipping through his notes frantically.
"So it was thought, my friends. So it was thought," Eddie replied smugly, a sly smile playing on his lips. He reached over his Dungeon Master's screen with deliberate slowness, placing a detailed figurine onto the center of the map—a skeletal figure draped in tattered robes, one eye socket glaring empty. "But Vecna lives!"
Chaos ensued. Players scrambled to adjust their strategies, voices overlapping in a cacophony of disbelief and hurried planning. The atmosphere was electric, a mix of dread and exhilaration. Y/N felt her heart pounding, the rush of adrenaline sharpening her focus.
"Do you flee Vecna and his cultists?" Eddie challenged, his tone almost taunting as he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Or do you stand your ground and fight?"
Silence fell as everyone weighed their options. The gravity of the situation pressed upon them, the fate of their characters hanging in the balance. Y/N glanced around the table, reading the uncertainty in their faces.
"I say we fight," she declared firmly, her voice cutting through the tension. Her eyes met each of theirs, a spark of determination igniting. "To the death."
"To the death," Dustin and Mike echoed, their expressions steeling with resolve. A murmur of agreement rippled through the group, the earlier hesitation giving way to a united front.
The battle was fierce. Eddie narrated the onslaught with dramatic flair, his words painting a vivid picture of the chaos unfolding. Spells were cast, swords swung, and arrows loosed. At first, victory seemed within reach. They coordinated attacks, covered each other's weaknesses, and for a moment, hope blossomed.
But fate was fickle. One by one, their comrades fell. The clatter of dice rolling low numbers elicited groans and curses. The boy with the wizard's hat threw up his hands in despair as his character succumbed. "No! Not like this!" he lamented.
"Stay strong!" Y/N urged, her knuckles white as she gripped her dice. Sweat beaded on her brow, her mind racing to formulate a plan.
Mike took his turn, the dice slipping from his fingers with a whispered prayer. They tumbled across the table, seeming to move in slow motion before settling ominously. A collective breath was held.
"Critical fail," Eddie announced with feigned sympathy. Mike slumped back, a look of defeat shadowing his features.
"Dammit!" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Now, only Y/N and Dustin remained standing. The room was thick with tension, the weight of their predicament palpable. The ambient noises of the school had faded away, leaving only the sounds of their ragged breaths and the distant hum of the air conditioning.
"Time out!" someone called desperately. They huddled together, forming a tight circle. Y/N found herself wedged between Mike and Dustin, their shoulders pressing against hers. The sense of camaraderie was strong, but so was the creeping doubt.
"Guys, I hate to say this, but we have to flee," the boy with the glasses whispered urgently, his eyes darting between them. A murmur of reluctant agreement spread among a few others, nodding solemnly.
"Didn't we just agree 'to the death'?" Y/N asked incredulously, her gaze sweeping over their faces. Her heart sank at the sight of their defeated expressions. "We can't back down now."
She felt a surge of frustration mingled with determination. This was more than just a game—it was a stand against the odds, a test of their mettle. She wasn't ready to throw in the towel, and she hoped to rekindle that fighting spirit in them.
"That wasn't literal," he shot back desperately, his eyes wide with a mix of panic and frustration.
"Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players!"
"You too? He only has fifteen hit points left. Don't be pussies," Dustin spat, spinning around to face his teammates. His cheeks were flushed, and a fiery determination burned in his gaze. The overhead lights cast sharp shadows across the scattered maps and figurines on the table.
"Pussies? Really? 'Cause we're not delusional?" the boy across from him retorted, leaning back in his chair with a skeptical snort. He crossed his arms over his chest, his brows knitting together as he met Dustin's glare.
"Delusional?" Y/N interjected sharply, her eyes narrowing as she stared daggers at the skeptic. "How about not cowards?" Her voice was steady but carried an edge that sliced through the tension-filled air.
"Hey!" Eddie's voice boomed from across the dimly lit room, breaking the group's heated exchange. He rose from his throne-like chair at the head of the table, the multitude of rings on his fingers glinting under the fluorescent lights. "If I may interject, gentlemen—and lady," he added with a nod toward Y/N. "While I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Gareth the Great's concern to heart. However, there is no shame in running," he said, his gaze locking onto Y/N's with an intensity that made the room feel smaller. "Don't try to be heroes—not today, 'kay?"
Y/N scoffed at his words, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. There was no way she was backing down now. Not when victory was within their grasp. Even if it meant the devil himself had to claw his way out of hell to stop her.
"One sec," Dustin said, holding up a finger before turning back to the huddled group. "What do you think, Y/N?" he asked, his voice softer now, eyes searching hers for confirmation.
She took a brief moment, her mind racing as she weighed their options. The ambient sounds of the room faded—the soft rustling of character sheets, the distant chatter from the hallway—everything narrowed down to this decision.
"We both only have twelve hit points left; it's risky as hell, but we're the only ones left on the battlefield," she said firmly, meeting his gaze head-on. "You already know what I'm gonna say, so it's your call, Dusty." Her words hung in the air, filled with both challenge and trust.
He studied her face, the gears in his mind visibly turning as he compiled a mental list of pros and cons. The flickering light above cast shifting shadows, mirroring the conflict in his eyes. It felt like an eternity before a slow grin spread across his face.
"Alright, Y/N, let's kill this son of a bitch!" he declared, spinning around to face Eddie. A Cheshire grin stretched from ear to ear, his earlier hesitation replaced with fiery resolve.
"The chances of success are twenty-to-one," one of the members interjected nervously, his voice laced with desperation and genuine fear. He fiddled anxiously with a worn pencil, his knuckles white.
"Never tell me the odds," Dustin shot back, his tone dismissive as he silenced the doubter with a steely glance. He extended his hand toward his sister. "Give me the D20."
She nodded, reaching into her velvet dice bag—the one adorned with tiny embroidered dragons—and retrieved the well-worn die. Its edges were smooth from years of use, the numbers etched deep from countless campaigns. She placed it into his open palm, their eyes meeting briefly in unspoken understanding.
The entire room fell into a hushed silence, the kind that makes every small sound—every breath, every heartbeat—seem amplified. All eyes were glued to Dustin as he prepared to roll. The air was thick with anticipation, so much so that it felt almost tangible.
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a split second before casting the die. It tumbled across the tabletop in what seemed like slow motion, bouncing off a miniature goblin and skittering past a makeshift terrain of books and notepads. Finally, it came to rest right in front of Eddie.
"Eleven," Eddie announced, his voice devoid of emotion. He tapped the table with each syllable for emphasis. "That's. A. Miss!"
A collective groan erupted from the group. "No!" "Damn it!" "We're doomed!" The exclamations overlapped, filling the room with a cacophony of disappointment. The tension ratcheted up as all eyes shifted to Y/N.
"We're so screwed," Dustin muttered beside her, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He pulled his cap lower over his eyes, as if to shield himself from the reality of the situation.
She glanced at him, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes. With a swift motion, she reached over and flicked the brim of his hat upward. "I'm offended you have such little faith in me—and from my own kin!" she declared dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "I'm wounded, Dusty; I may never recover." Her teasing tone elicited a few chuckles from the surrounding players.
Turning back to the table, she picked up the die, feeling its familiar weight in her hand. The room seemed to hold its breath. She could sense the gazes of her fellow players, the skepticism, the hope.
She shook the dice once, the clatter echoing softly.
Twice, the anticipation building like a rising tide.
Three times, and then she released it with a confident flick of her wrist. The die rolled across the board, weaving between scattered character sheets and abandoned snacks, before coming to a halt directly in front of the Dungeon Master.
Everyone leaned in, their faces a mix of dread and excitement. Eddie arched an eyebrow, leaning forward to inspect the result. A slow smile curved his lips.
"Twenty," he announced, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Crit hit!" Y/N shouted, leaping to her feet as a surge of triumph coursed through her. Cheers erupted around her, the room exploding into jubilant chaos. Dustin let out a whoop, throwing his arms around her in a bear hug that nearly knocked them both over.
She laughed, the sound bright and unrestrained, her heart pounding with exhilaration. Around them, the other players clapped and shouted, the earlier tension dissolving into celebration. She caught snippets of their exclamations—"Unbelievable!" "She's a legend!" "We did it!"
Eddie's voice rose above the din, though his exact words were lost in the whirlwind of noise. He looked both impressed and slightly amused, shaking his head as he began to collect his notes.
"I told you she would be our savior!" Dustin crowed to the group, his face flushed with excitement.
"That was some serious D&D playing, Henderson," Eddie called out, giving a nod of respect.
"Of course it was," Dustin interjected before she could respond, puffing out his chest with pride. "Who do you think taught me, Mike, and Lucas to play?"
She grinned widely at her brother's praise, her eyes shining as she looked around at the beaming faces of her friends. The room buzzed with energy, the victory a shared triumph that seemed to make the walls themselves hum.
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bluespring864 · 10 months ago
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Grigor Dimitrov defeats Holger Rune 7-6 (5), 6-4 to win the Brisbane International 2024
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8housevenus · 1 month ago
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lilith through the houses
hii, it has been a while since i have made a post on here; hope everyone is doing well. i wanted to dive into a post about lilith, i see a lot of people who are curious about lilith and how it manifests in their charts. lilith represents many things; rebellion, dark feminine, jealousy, envy, and sense of freedom/power.
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lilith in 1st - blessing & a curse. you have a sultry-esque to you, can appear a bit intimidating and off-putting from some sort of intensity; unintentionally. you have habits to always appeal to other people, you have a need to feel approved by others and rejection has always been a hard concept for you. you might have been bullied from women who were jealous of you when you were younger, or often left out on purpose because you seemed "untrusting," people often would read you wrong because they were too afraid to approach you. luckily for you though, you can pick up on these things right away. you have gifts for discernment and are good at blending into your environments nowadays. you are much harder to crack while you age, and that is because you have worked on your confidence & beauty through time- nobody can get under your skin as much as you do.
lilith in 2nd - loves to feel different. you love doing things that go against the standards. while everyone else was stressing over financial issues, housing, and overall structure, you had other plans. you preferred to feel free-spirited with your spending, and always found a way to attract money whether you worked for it or not. others despised you, thought you had it easy, or thought you let yourself go. you have a tendency to let others go, not in a bad way, but in a way that if there's anything stopping you from obtaining something, you will cut ties. you hold onto things that can be used to prove others wrong, probably still clings to photos, messages, etc. hates giving up easily. points out hypocricy on others a lot. you typically hate any form of control over you, not a fan of commands or orders, dislikes an overly organized environment. you like feeling accompanied in your habits. you always play your cards well.
lilith in 3rd - says it how it is always. you notice people usually love you or hate you there's no in between. sometimes attracts people who are two-faced, or always downplaying their achievements. you will really see the ugly side from people because of the way you can easily trigger them. felt held back from a young age to express certain thoughts, always likes to interject, say the things that others do not want to. has a serious tone, usually sounding mature and easily believable. you love pushing the boundaries with society and taking the lead. you are one of one, and you might notice some people have humored you a lot because they don't take you serious enough. people usually never let your past go, or they want to have a say in your reputation. to you though, any attention is good attention.
lilith in 4th - family matters. usually mother or prominent female figure forcing you to follow a path you don't want to. lots of household turmoil's, probably the ones to break a generational trauma, feeling suffocated by family and close ones. you have a hard time with making long-lasting friends and relationships out of fear of being abused emotionally somehow. easy for you to feel drained by others, feels and moves better alone. might have family members who are jealous of you or leave you behind because they cannot stand to see you succeed. maybe you felt that you hadn't been caught up as much as other kids growing up, late learner & way too self-dependent. you are strong in the sense that you take care of yourself better than others have. your pain has taught you how to provide a safe space for other people.
lilith in 5th - felt like you had a lot of energy vampires around you, anytime you wanted to feel fun-spirited you always had some people trying to void that. you are actually very easygoing, attract attention very easily, and people really admire your fierceness. however you fall short depending on the people you surround yourself with. you need uplifting beings around you, those who match your energy very well. you can always decipher who fits for you and who doesn't. you have a tendency to push away your intuition and gut feelings, you like giving chances and the ability for people to restart with you, however you realize it is a waste of time. lot of people will cling to you to try and analyze you, study you. relationships or friendships have used you to try to get the upperhand. people steal your ideas. tired of feeling bad for being yourself. you hope to remain light hearted and unravel new interests that give you a chance to understand yourself a bit more.
lilith in 6th - usually gets bullied because they are healthier than others. i know that sounds kiddish, but im serious. you know how to work twice as hard to get to where you want to be, whether that is career wise or health wise. you experience a lot of significant changes with your appearance, and you will have people trying to tear you down and invalidate your efforts. can deal with people speaking badly about your body, wishing to have your body, or lusting over your body. can have jealous co workers, outside peers, or in general you will notice that as soon as you want to change, many people do not like this. people have this preset notion of you and hate to acknowledge that you are in a better position than you used to be. you like doing things on your own schedule, you are known to being very picky, but as long as it is convenient for you, you do not mind. you're not a heavy complainer, instead you observe a lot and make do with whatever you got.
lilith in 7th - dealt with narcissists a lot of your life, has a fainted image of love and relationships. you guys love to reject other people lol, rightfully so though, most of the time you guys will have people trying to spin back to you. you are unforgettable to the ones you have had close bonds with, specifically with the other gender. can lead to men/women hating you so they can try to get over you. you love being able to try new things in relationships, switching it up is super important to you, and you love a 50/50, good give and take. if someone is too simple with you or doesn't seem as risk take-y as you, you kind of repel that. you crave to be unconditionally loved by someone that loves you in the right conditions. loves speaking out on things you find abnormal. you don't have many standards, which is why you have a lot of experience with the dating realm; however you only feel safe to settle once you see the imperfections in your partner. you hate anything superficial. you feel you can only trust those who are as damaged as you are.
lilith in 8th - feelings of powerlessness, inability to change, or endless karmaic cycles. you have been through harsh times with your inner self, and it has depleted a lot of your confidence. you are naturally more "darker or deeper" than others, you like reading between the lines and that is your superpower. you pick up on the things that most people slip. you have a strong aura of sensual energy whenever you do come together with a partner. seductive and manipulative at times, if you feel that you do not get what you want, you have a way to really make shit break out. lot of internal chaos with trying to figure yourself out. you have a strong admiration for the occult, and it is very known off of you. people often feel jealous that you know more than them, or that you are with-holding information, or that your energy is the most magnetic thing about you. you want to be able to explore everything that nobody wants to. it brings you peace to look from within more than on the out.
lilith in 9th - felt that higher purpose was always a challenge to try to figure out, religiously could have dealt with a traumatizing incident, or felt disconnected. turned against morals at one point and never looked back really. hates feeling narrow-minded, opened to new possibilities, hates certainty because things are so variable. people jealous that you can etach easily, and that you can expand onto bigger and better things. could been troubled in school for minor or major things, free will is a thing you love to test a lot. could have a lot of enemies from different backgrounds and countries, feel easily attacked for thinking differently than others. you notice how your mentality is far more different than others; you tend to be more receptive and optimistic, while other people could be more sensitive and reserved to their own thoughts. you dislike people with the inability to be free thinking as you are. you have a hard time connecting with others because of this, you feel only you can truly understand yourself. you can get frustrated easily and silenced due to it.
lilith in 10th - could feel scrutinized by authority figures in their lives, you might have a father who is controlling or somebody who is a male figure that will try to steer you from your goals. you have tried to make a lot of jobs work, however none feel too important to you. sometimes you feel that work industry can even be useless, simply because it doesn't bring you the satisfaction you want. you can even feel afraid to tap into your power in front of others, maybe seen as too shy or timid to go after what you really want. you sought more attention to what others would think rather than what you think of yourself. attracts jealousy through their jobs and careers anyway, some people find you "too this, too that" to the things you want to accomplish. you put up many facades and fake smiles to people because you feel that a lot of what you do is on display or talked about anyway. people honestly really love to throw some confusion your way, or doubt. you might really like a career that is extremely perplexing or doesn't require much at all.
lilith in 11th - felt weird from everyone else. you learned a lot of harsh lessons when you were younger, matured fast and enjoyed life much later. socially, well liked and easily applauded by others, which means that you also do have folks who have been envious of your abilities to drive the masses. you are unique and set trends. people follow you around or follow you online just to keep up with your aesthetic, it is like you are a hidden gem that prefers to be hidden. you've probably dealt with people trying to get close to you to steal from you or get with your other friends or even partners. you are naturally independent and sometimes too isolating. the feeling of needing nobody can stem from the fact that not many people surrounded themselves with you when you were younger. you socially blend in very well and use it to your advantage, as a lot of people will behave like "kiss-asses" to you. might have also dealt with fallouts with friends that have blamed you regardless of if you were guilty or not. they switch-up just as easy as they befriend you. it is undoubtedly hard to connect with some others.
lilith in 12th - spiritually been at war with yourself for a while, felt like there wasn't a place for you to confide without being shunned. hard time making sense of feelings that actually are justified to feel. others expected you to be strong and to bottle up a lot of your feelings, there was a lack of fulfillment also in teenage years due to the isolation you have went through. felt like you weren't good enough to go through with your ideas, fantasies, and goals. some part of you feels resentment towards yourself, as you learned that you were so hard on yourself when all you needed was to just experience life for what it was. always searching for something deeper. prone to nightmares or visions that have made you cautious, traumatizing experiences that nobody knows about or that has happened that was hidden from you or forgotten. sometimes you feel you don't even know what you are fighting for. you have a unique ability to contact your spiritual guides, manifesting comes easy for you once you work on this burden. you can bring out such strong changes in yourself and are capable of ending your "hellish" loops. people can feel envious of you for your trauma, and i know that sounds off, but you have been through a lot and others will try to act like they understand or can relate when they in fact do not. beware of people who pretend to be in the same boat as you. some will secretly just not like you, plain and simple.
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thank you for reading this all through, if i was accurate or off, let me know i would love to see some of your input. there's so much more i can say about each and if you want me to elaborate i will! i know i have put more for some of these and less for others, regardless, i am open to your inputs, thank u <3
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requiemforthepoets · 2 months ago
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overcooked 𖦹 LN4
PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader
SUMMARY: play overcooked they said, it’ll be fun they said.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: i just can’t help write about the idea lando playing overcooked, so i did. hope you’ll enjoy this! :)
REMINDER: 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: 1k
WARNINGS: typos and ferrari strategy meme
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Lando’s twitch stream was in full swing, and the chat was buzzing as you settled beside him, controller in hand.
“Alright, babe, let’s see how well we work together,” Lando teased, flashing you that signature grin. You rolled your eyes, already sensing that this game of overcooked might be more than what you bargained for.
You both dove into the first level, the kitchen chaos unfolding on the screen as you both tried to chop, cook, and serve orders with as much coordination as two people shared a life, but perhaps not a kitchen.
“Lando, the onions! You missed the onions!” You shouted, pointing at the screen as the virtual kitchen teetered on the brink of disaster.
“Relax, I’ve got this!” Lando replied, but his character was already running into walls, the pot burning on the stove. You could feel the frustration bubbling up, your competitive nature kicking into high gear.
You took charge of the kitchen, barking orders like a seasoned chef, while Lando scrambled to keep up. “Chop the onions faster, Lando!” You yelled as the kitchen timer ticked down. Lando, flustered, accidentally tossed the onions into the trash instead of the pot.
“Oops,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh.
“Oops?” You shot back, incredulous. “Lando, we’re running a restaurant, not a garbage disposal service!” The twitch chat exploded with laughter, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as well.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to manage orders, avoid fires, and stop Lando from accidentally throwing perfectly good ingredients into the trash, you both managed to complete the level. The result? Two stars. You stared at the screen, eyes narrowing.
“Unacceptable.” You muttered, “this is unacceptable!” You declared, your voice suddenly dropping into a perfect Gordon Ramsay impression.
“Oh look, baby we got two stars! That’s not bad!” Lando said excitedly as he pointed on the screen.
“Not that bad? Are you kidding me, Lando?” You snapped, fully embodying the spirit of Gordon Ramsay. “We were all over the place! No communcation, no strategy. Honestly, what was that—your best effort? Do you want to serve that to people? Do you?!”
Your sudden intensity caught Lando off guard, but before he could say anything, you were now pacing back and forth in front of him. But before he could say anything, you were off on a tirade, launching into an elaborate explanation of your strategy. You gestured wildly, pointing at the screen, completely absorbed in your monologue.
“Okay, listen. First, you need to stay on your side of the kitchen. I’ll handle the chopping and the prep work—because clearly, you’re incapable of doing both without setting something on fire. We need to streamline the workflow. I’ll chop, you’ll cook, and we both plate. But!” You pointed at him, your expression deadly serious, “no more improvisation. We need to stick to the plan. No more running around like a headless chicken.“
Lando blinked and nodded at you, clearly taken aback by your sudden switch into full-on chef mode. He opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it, his eyes darting between you and the camera that was still live streaming every second of your tirade. The chat was exploding with messages, his fans throughly entertained by your unintentional transformation into a culinary dictator, and Lando knows better than to interrupt you when you’re in the zone.
“And another thing,” you continued, pointing to the screen like you were delivering the world’s most important TED talk. “Timing and synchronization is crucial. We need to strategize and work like a well-oiled machine, not a circus act, okay? I handle the chopping, you’ll cook, and we both plate. We’ll divide and conquer!”
The chat exploded, the fans losing it as she continued, hands flying everywhere in wild gestures. Meanwhile, Lando was trying his hardest not to crack up, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched her go on.
“Babe…baby,” Lando finally managed to interject, struggling to keep a straight face. “You realize we’re live, right?”
You froze, eyes widening as you remembered the twitch stream, the hundred of his fans who had just witnessed your unhinged rant. Slowly, you turned to the camera, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.
“Oh…hi, chat,” you said, your voice suddenly much softer, the intensity draining from your expression. “I’m sorry for that. That was not very demure, very cutesy, and very mindful of me.”
Lando burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “I think you’ve been watching too much Hell’s Kitchen, love. Gordon Ramsay has become your new personality,” he teased, pulling you back down and sat you on his lap. You groaned, burying your face on his neck, as he put an arm around your waist, but even you couldn’t help laugh at yourself.
“Come on, let’s get you that three stars.” Lando said as he chuckled again. You settled down beside him and gave you a kiss on your temple.
The rest of the stream was just as chaotic as when you both started playing the game, filled with rage, frustration, and hilarious uncoordination. Orders were still missed, pots were still burning, and Lando’s character even managed to fall off the kitchen at one point, but you were both too busy laughing to care. By the end of the game, you hadn’t earned a single three-star rating that you had intentionally wanted, but the stream had been a massive hit, and the chat was flooded with memes of your intense strategy session.
As Lando ended the stream, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, still chuckling. “We may not be the best team in overcooked, but I think we’re the most entertaining,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.
You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips as you rested your head ok his shoulder. “Yeah, well, next time we’re getting three stars. I don’t care how long it takes.”
“Deal.” lando replied, wrapping an arm around you as you both relaxed, your own competitive sprit finally at peace—for now. “And can I say, it really turned me on when you started yapping.” His eyes wiggling, suggesting something that you knew fully well as you slapped him playfully on the chest.
“Oh shut up you.” You both laughed.
The kitchen might have been a disaster, but at least your relationship had survived the heat—well, barely.
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anantaru · 3 months ago
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・✶ 。 synopsis — fucking your enemy doesn't really sound like a good plan or wait, maybe it does! <3
warnings — enemies to lovers, fingering, playful childe, fem! reader
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childe always approaches you with that damn smirk on his face, his gaze intense and unwavering, a sprinkle of confidence playing on his lips.
the harbinger had always been your enemy, the embodiment of danger and excitement, and despite the many battles the both of you had fought, you couldn't lie to yourself but admit that there was an undeniable pull between you— a connection you refused to acknowledge, even to yourself at times.
"ah, you fought well today," childe's was barely out of breath as he throws his hands up in the air to feign defeat, his voice low and husky, a dangerous edge to his tone, "but you're not as strong as you think you are, heh."
without batting your lashes, you glare back at him with your body tense of anger, every single nerve inside on edge, "—and you're still as arrogant as ever, childe."
fuck, how much he adored it whenever you showed him a little of your sweet temper, it's a little salty too but he doesn't mind that— in fact, it gets him going and arouses something deep below.
naturally his smirk widens the moment you say it, his eyes darkening with something far more primal that he'd originally let on, "me? arrogant? oh am i? or am i just confident?"
you roll your eyes and before you could even find a good enough response, he instantly closes the distance between you in a swift stride— without haste, folding your spirit in half with his presence becoming overwhelming.
in an attempt to turn around and leave his hand grabs towards your arm, gripping your wrist with a surprising gentleness that was never experienced before by you, yet with the strength you've known far too well, one that left no room for escape.
"you think you can hide it from me? i can see it in your eyes, you know," he murmurs underneath his heightened breathing, slanting towards your face closer and closer until you could feel his warm breath against your ear, "the way you look at me, you see? the way your body reacts when I'm near like that— ugh, you're so shy, but I know you've been dreaming about this, as have i, or haven’t you?"
your heart races at the absurdity in his sentence— or was there even a sprinkle of a lie inside of it? how long until you cannot run from the feelings you harbored for him anymore? or was it simply lust that kept the drive inside of yourself working.
a mixture of fear yet also excitement floods your senses— you really wanted to deny it, to push him away, but the truth was, his words struck a deep chord within you, you're doomed and yes, in fact, you had dreams about him— of feeling him inside you, feeling his cock twitch and thicken while he's grinding himself in you, fucking your tight cunt as the fantasies of surrendering to the raw, forbidden desire consumed you.
you knew he must be good in bed, amazing even, there was no chance in hell that he wasn't with that striking personality of his.
"cut the crap childe, i don't know what you're talking about," you stammer back, but my dear, don't you hear? your voice betrayed you just this second, right in front of his eyes as you began to tremble with the weight of your secret longing dying to be set free.
"oh? but i think you do," he whispers before saying your name so sensually that it felt like someone's set your body on fire.
the man continues as his lips brush against the sensitive skin of your neck;
"you've wanted this for so long, right? this—"
and before you could muster a response, his mouth claims yours in a searing kiss that made your brain rewire, the touch of his lips strong and ruthless as one hand slid up to cup the back of your head, holding you firmly in place.
you weren't surprised by how childe kissed you, in fact, you imagined how it felt like— granted, it was better than you originally fantasized.
the kiss was rough, as if he was looking for an answer, and it shattered the last bit of your very resistance as you kissed him back with equal fervor, your body igniting with a fire you had tried so hard to suppress— yet, was it actually bad that you went against your own beliefs? just this once?
of course, you both were on different sides, supporting different agendas but this— fuck, this, it felt so good, why was the darkness childe expelled so mesmerizing? like biting into a poised apple and still relishing in getting tainted?
the harbingers hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if he had every right to do this and his touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine before he pushed you against the cold stone wall, the contrast between the cool surface and his heated skin only heightening your needful senses.
although before going further, he abruptly stopped the kiss, at last lapping across your bottom lip and seeking your gaze, "tell me you want this, i need this," he growls against your lips, his hands gripping your hips with a bruising energy, "tell me you've dreamed of this moment too."
you close your eyes and take a deep breath, a shaky whimper escaping your lips as you felt the grip on you tighten. each one of his touch, his breath hitting your skin and his words played into your beating heart and you couldn't, you just weren't able to stop your body from liking this.
your back arches a little as to show him without words, without needing to admit it— right now, you weren't sure if you could ever say it out loud.
like snowfall, his touch was cold, but it felt oddly comforting.
but you let him move forward as one hand slips beneath your clothes, finding your wetness between your thighs, your folds messed up and puffy for him. "childe i— i... i want this too," you admit against your own volition, the words tumbling out before you could even stop them, "i’ve dreamed of you, childe, maybe..."
you got him now— or, does he have you wrapped around his finger instead? regardless, his eyes blaze with a glistening triumph hanging over his irises as he captures your lips again.
he begins slowly, his fingers working around your hole with expert precision, circling your entrance and collecting your slick with such precision which you originally only knew of his ways of fighting as he coaxes out every inch of your pleasure.
you're writhing and hiding your moans into his chest, the volume of your whimpers growing when he pokes one finger in.
with a growl, he rips your shirt aside to expose your breasts, the fabric tearing in his haste— and before you knew it, his own jacket followed as you helped discard them quickly.
"look at me," he commands, "feel how i touch you there," as his voice resembles a rough whisper.,"i want to see the look in your eyes when i touch and touch you,"
you obeyed, meeting his gaze, your breath hitching as he thrusts one finger into you with a single, powerful flick forward.
the sensation was immediately overwhelming, not due to the fact that he was beginning to stimulate your hole with fast thrusts of his digit fucking in and out of you but the sole thought of childe doing it was the final nail in the coffin.
your heart was beginning to hurt from riding his fingers, furiously rattling against your ribcage as you threw out the last amount of dignity you had inside your body, becoming one with the movements of his hand before starting to seek it.
his wet tongue drags from your neck towards your collar bones before reaching your nipples, immediately taking one in his mouth as the heel of his hand began to press into your clit painfully hard, the feeling only multiplying when you shoved yourself into it more, better and deeper, until your body flashes you with a heat you cannot escape.
one more finger, more, and each pump turned rougher and moredemanding with the pace of his hand being relentless, cruel as you almost climaxed by just looking at him— how his wet lips left a trail of saliva on your slicked chest and ugh, that delirious glimmer in his eyes. 
childe truly likes the feeling of you clenching around his knuckles, he might become addicted to it, and he believes he'd actually die a happy man if he'd be able to feel you squeeze around his thick cock like that.
but you have to do it just like that, with your pussy drooling over his desperately and touch depraved, so he could taste you right after, yeah? have you all around his tongue.
he's not sure if he can even fit inside, ah, how excited he gets when he imagines your eyes glow and turn all big and pretty when he lets you see him from below his clothes— he knows for a fact he will make it fit.
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©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify
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millyh23 · 22 days ago
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Out of My League
Leah Williamson x Reader
Word count: 3k
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It had been a few months since you and Leah had made your relationship public. It wasn’t exactly planned, but after a particularly passionate post-match celebration where you’d jumped into her arms in front of the cameras, there was no hiding it anymore.
The reaction from the fans had been… intense, to say the least.
You’d always known people found you attractive; it wasn’t something that ever really mattered to you, but it became impossible to ignore when your name started trending on social media after every game. Whether it was because of your play or your looks, the fans seemed infatuated, and their comments ranged from flattering to downright objectifying.
Leah, on the other hand, never made a big deal out of it. She knew who you were beneath the spotlight, and that’s what she cared about. But there was one person who never missed an opportunity to remind her just how “lucky” she was.
Katie McCabe.
Katie had taken on the role of the team’s designated teaser from the moment she found out about you and Leah. And while it had started out as harmless banter, recently it had become a bit of a sore spot.
You were all at a team dinner one evening, seated at a long table in one of your favorite London restaurants. The food was good, the wine was flowing, and the team was in high spirits after a string of wins. You were sitting next to Leah, her hand resting casually on your thigh under the table, while Katie sat across from you both, already with a mischievous glint in her eye.
“So, Y/N,” Katie started, her Irish accent cutting through the chatter at the table. “How does it feel being with the best center-back in the world?” She winked at Leah, and for a second, you thought she might let it go there. But no, this was Katie.
Leah tensed beside you, her grip on your thigh tightening slightly. You shot her a reassuring smile, squeezing her hand under the table. She always tried to brush off Katie’s teasing, but you could tell it was starting to get to her.
Katie, oblivious to Leah’s discomfort, continued with a grin. “Honestly, Leah, you’re punching, aren’t you? I mean, have you seen Y/N? Half the league’s in love with her. Fair play to ya for locking that down!”
The table burst into laughter, and you chuckled along, though you could feel Leah shifting uncomfortably next to you.
“C’mon, Katie,” you said with a playful smirk, trying to defuse the situation. “Leah’s got plenty of admirers too, you know.”
Katie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smug grin. “Oh, sure, but let’s be real—Y/N’s on another level. You’re like the footballing world’s version of a supermodel. Poor Leah must be sweating every time you walk into a room full of players.”
The laughter continued, but this time you felt Leah pull her hand away from your thigh. You glanced over at her, her jaw was tight, and she wasn’t laughing anymore.
“Katie, that’s enough,” Leah said quietly, her voice strained.
But Katie, never one to back down, just raised an eyebrow. “What? Can’t handle the truth, Leah?”
Leah stood up so quickly that her chair scraped loudly against the floor, causing everyone to stop and look at her in surprise. “I’m going for some air,” she muttered, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment as she stormed out of the restaurant.
You sat there, stunned, as the rest of the table fell silent. Katie looked around, clearly surprised by Leah’s reaction. “What? I was only having a laugh.”
You frowned, pushing your chair back and standing up. “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s not funny, Katie,” you said, giving her a hard look before following Leah outside.
You found Leah outside the restaurant, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed as she stared out into the street. The cool night air did little to calm the tension radiating off her, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to say.
“Leah,” you called softly, approaching her cautiously. “You okay?”
She didn’t look at you right away. Her jaw was clenched, and when she finally turned to face you, you could see the frustration and vulnerability in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “I didn’t mean to cause a scene.”
You shook your head, stepping closer and gently reaching for her hand. “You don’t have to apologize. Katie was out of line.”
Leah sighed, pulling her hand back and pacing a few steps away from you. “It’s not just Katie,” she said, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s… everything. The fans, the comments, the constant reminders that you’re… you, and I’m just…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
You frowned, stepping forward and placing a hand on her arm to stop her pacing. “Leah, don’t do that. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”
She shook her head, her frustration bubbling over. “But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re Y/N. Everyone’s obsessed with you, and I can’t go anywhere without hearing how I’m ‘punching above my weight.’”
You blinked, taken aback by the raw emotion in her voice. “Leah, I didn’t know it bothered you this much.”
“Of course, it bothers me!” she snapped, and then immediately softened, as if regretting her outburst. She rubbed her temples, sighing heavily. “I know it’s stupid. I know none of it should matter, but… sometimes I feel like I’m constantly being compared to you, and I’m always coming up short.”
Your heart sank at her words. You had no idea Leah had been feeling this way, and now you felt a surge of guilt for not noticing sooner.
“Leah, look at me,” you said gently, taking both of her hands in yours and pulling her closer. “I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re not ‘punching.’ I love you, and I’m with you because of who you are, not because of what anyone else thinks.”
Leah’s eyes met yours, and you could see the conflict in them—part of her wanted to believe you, but the insecurities were still gnawing at her.
“I just…” she began, her voice barely a whisper. “I don’t want to feel like I’m not enough for you.”
That hit you hard. You took a deep breath and stepped even closer, cupping her face in your hands. “Leah, you are more than enough. You’re everything. I don’t care what the fans say, or what Katie jokes about. They don’t know us. They don’t know how much you mean to me.”
She searched your eyes for a moment, her walls starting to crumble. “You really mean that?”
“Of course I do,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You’re strong, kind, beautiful, and more than anything, you make me happy. And that’s what matters.”
Leah’s lips trembled slightly, and she let out a shaky breath as she pulled you into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry,” she whispered into your shoulder. “I didn’t mean to blow up like that.”
You hugged her back just as tightly, running your hand up and down her back in soothing strokes. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for not realizing how much this was bothering you.”
She pulled back just enough to look at you, her eyes softening as she gave you a small, apologetic smile. “I guess I just let it all build up.”
“I get it,” you said, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “But from now on, you can talk to me about these things, okay? No more bottling it up.”
Leah nodded, her forehead resting against yours. “Okay. I promise.”
You smiled, brushing your thumb over her cheek before leaning in to kiss her softly. When you pulled back, her smile was more genuine, and the tension in her shoulders had finally started to ease.
“I love you,” she said quietly, her voice full of sincerity.
“I love you too,” you replied, pressing another kiss to her lips. “And don’t worry, I’ll deal with Katie.”
Leah let out a small laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Good luck with that.”
After your heart-to-heart with Leah, you knew you couldn’t just let Katie keep teasing her without consequences. Leah might have forgiven Katie’s relentless jokes, but you weren’t about to let her off that easily. If Katie wanted to joke about someone “punching above their weight,” then maybe it was time to give her a taste of her own medicine.
The opportunity presented itself just a couple of days later during training. The team had been doing some drills, but the mood was light—everyone was in high spirits after winning their last few matches. You’d been watching Katie all session, waiting for the perfect moment, and it finally came during the cool-down, when everyone gathered around for a few minutes of stretching and chatting.
Katie, as usual, was at the center of it all, making jokes and keeping the team entertained. But this time, you had a plan.
You casually strolled over, sitting down beside Leah and stretching your legs out in front of you. Leah raised an eyebrow at the mischievous glint in your eyes but didn’t say anything. She knew you well enough to know something was up.
As the team began to chatter, you leaned over and nudged Katie with a grin.
“Hey, McCabe,” you called out, making sure your voice was loud enough for everyone to hear. “How’s it feel dating the most attractive player on the team?”
Katie turned to you, confused at first, but then a cocky smirk appeared on her face. “Ha, as if you’re talking about yourself there, Y/N. But, to be fair, I do have the best left foot in the league.”
You grinned wider, ignoring the jab. “No, no. I mean, your girlfriend, yeah? How’s it feel knowing you’re punching way above your weight? Fair play to her, sticking around with you. What a catch.”
The laughter that rippled through the team was immediate. Katie’s face faltered for just a second, and you saw her eyes narrow as she realized what was happening. She wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of these kinds of jokes.
“Oi, watch it, Y/N. Don’t be getting cocky now,” Katie shot back, but the slight pink tinge to her cheeks told you she wasn’t as cool as she was pretending to be.
“Oh, come on, Katie. We’ve all seen your missus during practice,” you continued, turning the teasing dial up a notch. “Pretty sure if your girlfriend saw your left foot in action, she’d start questioning her life choices.”
More laughter. The whole team was eating it up. Even Leah, who was trying to keep a straight face beside you, couldn’t help the small grin tugging at the corner of her lips.
Katie folded her arms, trying to maintain her tough exterior, but you could see the cracks starting to show. “That’s rich, coming from you, Y/N. At least I don’t trip over my own feet in front of the cameras.”
You shrugged nonchalantly, ready for that one. “True, but I don’t have to worry about that. You’ve got your hands full with everyone wondering how you managed to convince your girlfriend not to trade up.”
The team howled with laughter, some of them clutching their sides as they keeled over, and even the coaching staff was smirking. Katie’s face was now fully red, and she threw you a glare that could have burned a hole through the field. But deep down, you knew she wasn’t really angry. Embarrassed? Yes. But angry? Not quite.
“Well, at least I’m not using my partner to prop up my ego,” Katie shot back, trying to recover, but her voice wasn’t as steady as it usually was.
You gave her a dramatic wink, leaning back on your hands as if you hadn’t just dismantled her reputation in front of the whole team. “No need to be jealous, McCabe. Just know Leah’s still mine, and I’m the one who’s got a catch.”
Katie opened her mouth, probably to throw another quip, but before she could, Leah chimed in.
“Careful, Katie,” Leah said, her voice calm but playful. “You don’t want to make Y/N feel too good about herself, or I might start feeling insecure again.”
Katie shot Leah a look, her eyes wide with mock betrayal. “Oh, don’t you start, too! I’m just trying to have a laugh!”
Leah grinned, clearly enjoying the rare moment of seeing Katie squirm. “Yeah, well, sometimes it’s not so funny when you’re the one getting picked on, is it?”
Katie was about to respond when Vivianne Miedema, who had been watching the whole thing with amusement, piped up. “It’s alright, Katie. We all know you’re the real catch here,” she said dryly, earning another round of laughter from the group.
Katie finally let out a groan, rubbing her hand over her face as she shook her head. “Alright, alright, I get it! Y/N’s hilarious, I’m punching, and you all think I’ve got no chance. Can we move on now?”
You grinned triumphantly, leaning forward to give her a playful shove. “Just wanted to give you a taste of your own medicine, McCabe. No hard feelings?”
Katie gave you a mock glare but then broke into a grin. “No hard feelings. But don’t think I won’t get you back for this, Y/N. It’s only a matter of time.”
“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you said with a wink.
The tension from earlier had evaporated, and even though you’d embarrassed Katie in front of the whole team, she took it in stride. She might have been annoyed in the moment, but deep down, you knew she appreciated the banter. It was part of what made the team so close, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of satisfaction at getting some revenge for Leah.
As the team began to disperse, Leah pulled you aside, her eyes twinkling with amusement.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she said, shaking her head with a laugh. “You’re going to be on Katie’s hit list now.”
You shrugged, pulling her into a quick hug. “Worth it. She needed to be taken down a peg, and besides…” You leaned in, lowering your voice to a whisper. “I’d do anything to make sure you don’t feel like you’re not enough.”
Leah’s expression softened, and she squeezed your hand, leaning up to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I know,” she said quietly. “And I love you for it.”
You smiled against her lips. “I love you too.”
The atmosphere at the training ground was light-hearted, as usual. The team had gathered for a post-training cool-down, and, naturally, the banter was in full swing. You and Katie had developed a playful rivalry over the past few weeks, your teasing battles becoming something of an expected part of the team’s routine.
Most days, it was harmless—small digs and jabs that made the team laugh and kept everyone on their toes. But today, the teasing had been especially sharp, and you could sense the tension rising between you and Katie. You weren’t sure why, but she seemed particularly determined to get under your skin.
Katie grinned as she jogged over to where you and Leah were sitting. “Oi, Y/N, heard you were working on your footwork. Might want to call in some help from Viv, yeah? Could save you some embarrassment next time you trip over your own feet in front of the cameras.”
You rolled your eyes, smirking as you shot back without missing a beat. “And maybe you could call Viv for some pointers on how to stay in the starting lineup, McCabe. Might help with all those bench-warming sessions you’ve been having.”
The rest of the team laughed, a few of them throwing in their own jabs at Katie. Leah nudged you with a grin, clearly enjoying the exchange, but you could feel the competitive edge sharpening between you and Katie. This wasn’t going to be just a casual back-and-forth today.
Katie raised an eyebrow, her smile tight. “Careful now, Y/N. Don’t forget, I’ve seen your one-on-one drills. If anyone’s warming the bench next, it’ll be you. Don’t worry, though, I’ll save you a seat.”
You chuckled, but the tension between you and Katie was growing. It was starting to feel less playful and more personal, though you weren’t about to back down.
“Ah, well, if I’m warming the bench, at least I won’t be doing it alone. You and I both know you’ve spent more time sitting out than playing lately, Katie. Maybe you should focus more on your game than on trying to be funny.”
Katie’s eyes flashed, and the team’s laughter had a slight edge to it now. She stepped closer, her grin still in place but her tone sharper than before. “At least I don’t have to rely on my looks to stay relevant, eh? Must be tough, being known more for your face than your football.”
The words hit you harder than you expected, and the smile faltered on your lips for a split second. Katie’s dig went straight to the heart of one of your deepest insecurities—that people only cared about you for your appearance, that no matter how hard you worked on your game, it would always be overshadowed by your looks.
The team went quiet, sensing the sudden shift in the mood. Even Leah’s smile faded as she glanced between you and Katie, realizing that this had gone from playful banter to something more serious.
You swallowed, trying to shake off the sting of her words. You couldn’t let Katie see how much that jab had affected you, but the knot in your stomach was growing.
“Well,” you said, your voice quieter now but still trying to maintain your composure, “at least I’m relevant. Must be hard, Katie, knowing that no one’s really watching you unless you’re on the bench or mouthing off.”
Katie’s smirk faded slightly, but before she could respond, Leah stepped in, her voice calm but firm. “Alright, that’s enough,” she said, glancing between the two of you. “It’s all fun and games until someone takes it too far.”
Katie looked like she was about to say something, but then she hesitated, glancing at you. There was a flicker of something in her eyes—maybe regret, maybe guilt—but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she just shook her head and backed off, walking toward the rest of the team.
You sat there, feeling the weight of Katie’s words settle over you. It wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment about your looks being more of a focus than your football, but coming from a teammate—someone you thought you had a mutual respect with—it stung in a way you hadn’t expected.
Leah leaned closer, her hand resting gently on your back. “Hey, are you okay?” she asked softly, her eyes full of concern.
You forced a smile, nodding slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just Katie being Katie.”
But Leah didn’t look convinced. She knew you too well. “She shouldn’t have said that. You know that, right?”
You shrugged, trying to brush it off, but Leah’s hand on your back stayed firm. “Y/N, you’re more than just your looks. You’re an incredible player, and everyone here knows that.”
Her words were comforting, but the knot in your chest didn’t loosen. You knew Leah meant well, and she was trying to reassure you, but the insecurity that Katie had prodded at wasn’t something that could just be talked away.
“I know,” you said quietly, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded hollow.
Leah frowned, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on your back. “Do you want me to talk to her?”
You shook your head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll handle it.”
Leah gave you a look that said she wasn’t entirely convinced, but she didn’t push. She knew when to let you handle things in your own way.
The rest of training passed in a blur, but your mind kept circling back to Katie’s comment. It echoed in your head, gnawing at the insecurities you’d worked so hard to bury. By the time the session ended, you were barely listening to the conversations around you, just waiting for the chance to be alone with your thoughts.
But as you walked toward the locker room, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You turned to see Katie standing there, her expression a mix of guilt and awkwardness.
“Y/N, wait,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “Can we talk?”
You crossed your arms, unsure whether you were ready to have this conversation. “What’s there to talk about, Katie? You made your point.”
Katie winced, clearly not expecting you to be so blunt. “I didn’t mean it like that. I was just—”
“Just what?” you interrupted, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Trying to be funny? Well, congratulations, because you really nailed it. I hope it was worth it.”
Katie sighed, running a hand through her hair. “I’m sorry, alright? I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. It was just… we were going back and forth, and I wasn’t thinking. I took it too far.”
You wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the hurt, but looking at Katie now, with her genuine regret and the tension in her shoulders, it was hard to keep the wall up. You sighed, shaking your head.
“Yeah, you did,” you said, your voice quieter now. “You don’t know how hard it is, Katie. Everyone’s always focusing on how I look, and no matter how well I play, it’s never good enough. I’m always going to be ‘the pretty one’ instead of the footballer.”
Katie looked down, her guilt deepening. “I know, and I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was like that for you. I was just… I don’t know, trying to win the banter, I guess. But that was a shitty thing to say.”
You stared at her for a moment, weighing her words. Finally, you sighed, letting go of some of the tension in your chest. “Just… don’t do it again, alright?”
Katie nodded, her eyes sincere. “I won’t. I promise.”
You nodded, and the two of you stood there for a moment in silence before Katie gave you a small, apologetic smile. “We good?”
You hesitated, then nodded again, this time with a hint of a smile. “Yeah, we’re good.”
Katie grinned, relieved. “Alright. But just so you know, I’m still going to kick your ass in the next drill.”
You laughed, rolling your eyes. “We’ll see about that, McCabe.”
The house was unusually quiet as you sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. The show playing in front of you was some sitcom, the laugh track echoing in the background, but you weren’t really watching it. Your mind was miles away, replaying Katie’s words over and over.
"At least I don’t have to rely on my looks to stay relevant, eh?"
You sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions. No matter how hard you tried to brush it off, the comment clung to you like a shadow, creeping into every thought. It wasn’t just what Katie had said—it was the deeper fear behind it. A fear that had been gnawing at you for as long as you could remember.
You’d worked so hard to get to where you were, to be taken seriously as a footballer. But no matter how many matches you played, how many goals you scored, or how much time you spent perfecting your skills, the comments about your appearance never seemed to stop. The media, the fans, even some of the players—they all seemed more interested in how you looked than in how you played. And Katie’s joke had only reinforced the insecurity that you weren’t good enough, that people only noticed you because of your looks.
You hadn’t told Leah how much it bothered you when Katie had said it. You’d brushed it off at the time, not wanting to make a big deal out of it, but now, sitting here alone, it was hard to ignore the weight of those words.
The sound of the front door opening snapped you out of your thoughts. Leah stepped inside, her hair slightly damp from her post-training shower, and she smiled when she saw you sitting on the couch.
“Hey,” she said softly, kicking off her shoes and walking over to sit beside you. “How was the rest of your day?”
You forced a small smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “It was fine,” you said, your voice quiet.
Leah’s brow furrowed as she studied your face, immediately sensing that something was off. “What’s going on?” she asked, her voice gentle. “You’ve been distant since training.”
You hesitated, not wanting to drag the mood down, but Leah had a way of reading you better than anyone else. She wasn’t going to let this go.
“It’s nothing,” you muttered, but Leah’s gaze didn’t waver.
“Y/N,” she said, her tone soft but insistent. “Talk to me. I know something’s bothering you.”
You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you tried to find the right words. “It’s just… what Katie said. About me relying on my looks. It’s been stuck in my head.”
Leah’s eyes softened with understanding, and she shifted closer to you on the couch, her hand gently resting on your knee. “She didn’t mean it,” Leah said quietly. “You know Katie—she says things without thinking. She’s already apologized.”
“I know,” you said quickly. “I know she didn’t mean it like that, but… it just hit a nerve, you know? Because sometimes it feels like that’s all people see. They talk about how I look, not how I play. And no matter how hard I work, it’s like I’m always going to be ‘the pretty one’ instead of the footballer.”
Leah frowned, her hand squeezing your knee gently. “That’s not true,” she said firmly. “You’re an amazing player, Y/N. Anyone who knows anything about football can see that. You’re not just here because of your looks—you’re here because you’ve earned it.”
You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “But it doesn’t feel like that sometimes. It feels like no matter what I do on the pitch, it’s always going to be overshadowed by something I can’t control.”
Leah shifted closer, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you into her side. “I get it,” she said softly. “I know it’s hard. People focus on the wrong things all the time. But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re one of the best players I’ve ever seen.”
You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you tried to take comfort in her words. Leah was always good at reassuring you, at making you feel better, but the insecurity Katie had touched on wasn’t something that could be easily shaken.
“I just… I don’t want to be seen as a joke, Leah,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want people thinking I’m only here because I’m attractive. I’ve worked so hard to be good at this, and it feels like it doesn’t even matter sometimes.”
Leah pulled back slightly so she could look at you, her eyes full of warmth and sincerity. “You’re not a joke, Y/N. You’re an incredible footballer, and anyone who tries to reduce you to just your looks doesn’t know what they’re talking about. You belong here because you’re talented, and you’ve worked for everything you’ve achieved. Don’t let anyone make you feel like that’s not enough.”
You sighed, nodding slightly but still feeling the weight of the insecurity. Leah’s words helped, but it was hard to completely shake the doubt that lingered in the back of your mind.
Leah tilted her head, studying your face for a moment before a small smile tugged at her lips. “Do you want to know something?” she asked, her voice soft.
You glanced up at her, curious. “What?”
“I don’t care about how you look,” Leah said, her tone teasing but her eyes sincere. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re ridiculously attractive, but that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re funny, and smart, and kind, and you’re an amazing player. The looks are just a bonus.”
You couldn’t help but smile at her words, a small laugh escaping your lips despite the heaviness you’d been feeling. “You’re just saying that.”
Leah shook her head, her smile widening. “Nope. I mean every word. And the next time someone tries to reduce you to just your looks, I’ll remind them why you’re so much more than that.”
You smiled, feeling some of the tension in your chest loosen. Leah always had a way of making you feel seen, of reminding you that you were more than just what people said about you.
Leah reached up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as her eyes softened. “I’m proud of you, Y/N. For everything you’ve accomplished. And I’ll always be here to remind you how incredible you are, even when you forget.”
You leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, grateful for her support. “Thank you,” you whispered against her mouth.
Leah smiled as she pulled back, resting her forehead against yours. “Always.”
The two of you sat there in the quiet of your living room, the earlier heaviness slowly fading as Leah’s words wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. Katie’s joke still lingered in the back of your mind, but it didn’t feel as sharp anymore. With Leah by your side, reminding you of your worth, you knew you could handle it.
As the night wore on, the insecurities that had weighed you down all day began to fade, replaced by the warmth of Leah’s presence and the knowledge that, no matter what anyone said, you were enough.
The buzz surrounding the award nominations had been building for weeks, but you hadn’t given it much thought. Sure, the prospect of being recognized for your hard work was exciting, but you were focused on the season ahead, training hard with your teammates and making sure you were ready for every match.
That was until the day of the announcement arrived. You were in the locker room, going through your usual pre-training routine, when you heard the excited chatter from the other players. Curious, you glanced up from your phone, where you had been scrolling through social media, and caught sight of Leah’s wide smile as she rushed toward you.
“Y/N! Did you see? You’re nominated for the Ballon d’Or!” Leah exclaimed, practically bouncing on her heels.
You blinked, your heart racing at the unexpected news. “What? No, I didn’t see anything!” You quickly reached for your phone, frantically searching for confirmation, and when the news article popped up, your breath caught in your throat.
Your name was right there, alongside some of the best players in the world. The realization hit you like a wave, crashing over you with a mix of disbelief and exhilaration.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe this!” you said, shaking your head in disbelief as you stared at the screen.
Leah laughed, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, her excitement infectious. “You deserve this, Y/N! You’ve worked so hard! This is proof that you’re not just a pretty face on the pitch—you’re a phenomenal footballer!”
You felt your cheeks heat at her words, both thrilled and embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, it’s just a nomination,” you said, trying to downplay it. “There are so many incredible players out there.”
Leah pulled back to look you in the eyes, her expression serious. “Exactly! And you’re one of them! This nomination isn’t just some fluke—it’s recognition for everything you’ve achieved this season. You’ve scored goals, assisted like a pro, and played your heart out every match. You’re not just here for your looks; you’re here because you’ve earned it.”
Her words struck a chord within you, echoing everything you had been trying to convince yourself of. Maybe this recognition wasn’t just about the attention your appearance drew, but rather a testament to your talent and dedication.
“Thanks, Leah,” you said, feeling a warm flutter in your chest at her unwavering support. “I guess I just never thought I’d be in the running for something like this.”
“Why not? You’re talented and passionate about the game. You bring so much to the team, and people are starting to notice,” Leah said, her eyes sparkling with pride. “This is just the beginning for you, and I couldn’t be happier.”
You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, feeling your confidence begin to swell. “I still can’t believe it. I mean, I’ve dreamed of this moment since I was a kid, but now that it’s actually happening… it’s surreal.
Leah leaned in, her voice low and sincere. “You deserve every bit of this recognition. Just remember that, okay? No matter what happens with the award, you’re a fantastic player, and you should be proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”
You nodded, her words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “I will, I promise.”
The rest of training flew by in a blur, your teammates buzzing with excitement and congratulating you as the news spread. Each well-wishing comment was a reminder of the support you had from the team, and it filled you with a sense of belonging that you had fought hard to find.
Later that evening, you and Leah settled onto the couch in your living room, the glow of the television casting soft light across the room. You scrolled through social media, reading the messages from fans and other players who had reached out to congratulate you.
“This is amazing,” Leah said, grinning as she pointed at the screen. “Look at all these supportive messages! Even some of the international players are celebrating you!”
You laughed, feeling a swell of pride at the community you had built around you. “I never imagined I’d get this much attention. It’s overwhelming.”
Leah shifted closer, resting her head on your shoulder as you continued to scroll. “Just think of it as validation. You’ve always said you want to be taken seriously as a player, and this is it. You’re proving everyone wrong about how they perceive you.”
You took a deep breath, the reality of her words sinking in. It wasn’t just about being recognized; it was about being seen as a serious contender in the world of football, and it felt incredible.
“Thank you for being my biggest cheerleader,” you said softly, leaning your head against Leah’s. “I don’t think I could’ve done any of this without your support.”
Leah smiled, looking up at you with warmth in her eyes. “I’ll always be here for you, Y/N. You’re more than just a teammate to me—you’re my partner, and I believe in you. Always.”
As the evening wore on, you felt lighter, the earlier worries beginning to fade. The nomination wasn’t just a title; it was proof of your hard work, your dedication, and your growth as a player.
With Leah by your side, you felt ready to take on whatever came next—whether it was the award ceremony, the upcoming matches, or the constant scrutiny that came with being in the spotlight.
In that moment, with Leah’s hand intertwined with yours, you knew you could handle anything. You were more than just a pretty face; you were a force on the pitch, and this was just the beginning.
_________________________________________________
The End
419 notes · View notes
pucksandpower · 1 month ago
Text
I’ll Be Waiting
Toto Wolff x Reader
Summary: in which two soulmates are destined to always find each other only to be torn apart lifetime after lifetime after lifetime … until finally, they’re not (aka the reincarnation AU)
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Hedeby, 952
The crackling fire casts long shadows across the great hall as Toto sits upon his ornate wooden throne. His piercing brown eyes scan the room, filled with boisterous warriors celebrating their latest successful raid. But his gaze keeps returning to you, his most favored thrall, as you move gracefully among the revelers, refilling their horns with mead.
“You there,” Toto calls out, his deep voice cutting through the din. “Come hither.”
Your heart quickens as you approach, head bowed respectfully. “Yes, my Jarl?”
Toto leans forward, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “Tell me, how fares the celebration? Are our warriors content?”
You risk a glance up, meeting his intense gaze. “They are in high spirits, my Jarl. Your generosity knows no bounds.”
“And what of you?” Toto asks, his voice lowering. “Are you content in my service?”
A flush creeps up your neck. “I am honored to serve you, my Jarl. There is no greater joy.”
Toto nods, satisfied. “Good. I have a task for you. Meet me in my private chambers after the feast.”
As you turn to leave, a hand grabs your arm. It’s Ingrid, Toto’s wife, her eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“What did my husband want with you?” She hisses.
You try to keep your voice steady. “He merely asked about the celebration, my lady.”
Ingrid’s grip tightens. “Do not think I am blind to the way he looks at you. Remember your place, thrall.”
She releases you and you hurry away, your mind racing. As the night wears on, you can feel Toto’s eyes following you, and the weight of Ingrid’s glares.
Finally, the feast winds down. With trepidation, you make your way to Toto’s private chambers. You knock softly.
“Enter,” comes his voice from within.
You step inside, finding Toto standing by the window, silhouetted against the starry night sky.
“Close the door,” he says without turning.
You obey, your pulse quickening. “You wanted to see me, my Jarl?”
Toto turns, his expression unreadable. “I did. Come closer.”
You approach cautiously, stopping a respectful distance away. Toto closes the gap between you, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face.
“Do you know why I summoned you here?” He asks softly.
You swallow hard. “No, my Jarl.”
Toto’s hand cups your cheek. “I think you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m not watching. It mirrors the way I look at you.”
Your eyes widen. “My Jarl, I-”
“Shh,” he interrupts gently. “You need not speak. I know your heart, as you know mine.”
He leans in, his lips a breath away from yours. “Tell me to stop and I will. But know that you hold my heart in your hands.”
Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. For a moment, the world falls away, and there is only Toto and the fire he ignites within you.
Suddenly, the door bursts open. You jump apart to see Ingrid standing there, her face contorted with rage.
“I knew it!” She screams. “You treacherous whore!”
Before either of you can react, Ingrid pulls a dagger from her belt and lunges at you. Pain explodes in your abdomen as the blade finds its mark.
“No!” Toto roars, catching you as you collapse.
He lowers you gently to the floor, pressing his hands against the wound. “Stay with me,” he pleads, his voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”
You try to speak, but only a gurgle escapes your lips. The world starts to fade around you.
“Guards!” Toto shouts. “Fetch the healer!”
But you know it’s too late. As your vision darkens, the last thing you see is Toto’s anguished face, tears streaming down his cheeks.
“I will find you,” he whispers fiercely. “In this life or the next. I swear it.”
With your last breath, you manage to whisper, “I’ll be waiting.”
As your eyes close for the final time, you feel Toto’s lips press against your forehead, sealing a promise that will echo through lifetimes to come.
Vatican City, 1493
The opulent halls of the Vatican echo with hushed whispers and the rustle of silk as you make your way through the winding corridors. Your heart races, not with the excitement of a bride-to-be, but with the desperate resolve of one about to take a drastic step.
As you round a corner, a strong hand grasps your arm, pulling you into a shadowy alcove. You find yourself face to face with Cardinal Toto, his eyes filled with concern.
“My love,” he whispers urgently, “what are you doing here? The wedding is but hours away.”
You place a trembling hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath the rich fabric of his robes. “I had to see you one last time.”
His brow furrows. “What do you mean? Speak plainly, I beg you.”
Taking a deep breath, you steel yourself. “I cannot go through with this farce of a marriage. My father may sell me to the highest bidder, but he cannot sell my heart.”
Toto’s eyes widen in alarm. “What are you planning? Tell me you haven’t done anything foolish.”
You pull a small vial from the folds of your dress. “It is already done, my love. The poison courses through my veins even as we speak.”
“No!” Toto gasps, gripping your shoulders. “How could you? We would have found another way!”
Tears well in your eyes. “There is no other way. My father’s ambition knows no bounds. This was the only path left to me.”
Toto pulls you close, his voice breaking. “Then I shall follow you into the darkness. I cannot live in a world without you.”
You push him away gently. “You must live, Toto. Live and remember me. Perhaps in another life, we will find each other again.”
He shakes his head vehemently. “I will not let you go. Not again. I’ve only just found you in this life, and I refuse to lose you once more.”
Confusion flickers across your face. “What do you mean, ‘again’?”
Toto cups your face in his hands. “I’ve had dreams, vivid as memories, of us in another time. A great hall, a celebration ... and a tragic end. I swore I would find you, and I have. I will not be parted from you now.”
You sway on your feet, the poison beginning to take effect. “Toto, please. You must let me go. Your life, your position ...”
“Mean nothing without you,” he finishes firmly. “Come, we must get you to a physician. Perhaps there is still time to counteract the poison.”
As he tries to lead you away, you stumble, your legs giving way beneath you. Toto catches you, lowering you gently to the floor.
“Help!” He calls out, his voice echoing through the halls. “Someone, help us!”
You clutch at his robes weakly. “It’s too late, my love. But know that I go to my death with a heart full of love for you.”
Footsteps approach rapidly. A group of guards rounds the corner, led by your father, Pope Alexander VI. His face contorts with rage at the sight before him.
“What is the meaning of this?” He thunders. “Cardinal Wolff, explain yourself!”
Toto looks up, defiance blazing in his eyes. “Your daughter lies dying, Your Holiness. Will you not call for aid?”
Your father’s gaze hardens. “My daughter knows her duty. She will marry as I have decreed.”
“She has taken poison rather than submit to your schemes,” Toto spits out. “Is your ambition worth more than your daughter’s life?”
For a moment, shock flickers across your father’s face. Then his expression hardens once more. “Guards, seize the Cardinal. He has clearly bewitched my daughter’s mind.”
As the guards move to comply, you summon the last of your strength. “Father, please. Let me die in peace, with the man I love.”
Your words give the guards pause. They look to the Pope, uncertainty in their eyes.
Your father’s face twists with conflicting emotions. “You would throw away everything for this ... this upstart Cardinal?”
“I would throw away everything for love,” you whisper. “Something you have long forgotten the meaning of.”
A tense silence falls over the group. Then, to everyone’s surprise, your father waves the guards away. “Leave us,” he commands.
As they retreat, he kneels beside you, his voice softer than you’ve heard it in years. “My child, what have you done?”
You meet his gaze steadily. “I have chosen my own fate, father. For once in my life, I have made my own choice.”
Toto holds you closer, his tears falling freely now. “Is there truly nothing to be done?” He asks, his voice raw with anguish.
Your father shakes his head slowly. “The poison she favors ... it is swift and irreversible. I had thought to use it on our enemies, not ...” He trails off, unable to finish the thought.
As your breath grows more labored, you turn to Toto. “Promise me something, my love.”
“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.
“Live,” you whisper. “Live and do good in this world. And when your time comes, look for me in the next life. I will be waiting.”
Toto presses his forehead to yours. “I swear it. I will find you again, in this life or the next.”
With your last ounce of strength, you pull him into a final kiss. As your lips part, you feel the life leaving your body.
The last thing you hear is Toto’s anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the halls of the Vatican, but across time itself.
As darkness claims you, a strange sense of remembrance washes over you. You’ve been here before, you realize. And somehow, you know you’ll be here again. For your love is one that transcends death itself, destined to play out across the ages until, at last, you and Toto find your happily ever after.
Virginia, 1863
The makeshift field hospital buzzes with frantic activity as wounded soldiers are brought in from the front lines. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid smell of gunpowder. Amidst the chaos, you move with practiced efficiency, your nurse’s apron already stained with the day’s grim work.
Suddenly, a commotion at the entrance catches your attention. Your heart stops as you recognize the unconscious figure being carried in on a stretcher.
“Toto!” You cry out, rushing to his side.
The soldiers carrying him look grim. “It’s the Commander, ma’am. He took a bullet meant for one of his men.”
You quickly assess the wound, your medical training warring with your rising panic. “Put him here,” you direct, indicating an empty cot.
As they lay Toto down, his eyes flutter open. “Y/N?” He murmurs weakly. “Is that you, my love?”
You grasp his hand tightly. “I’m here, darling. You’re going to be alright.”
Toto manages a pained smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my dear.”
“Don’t talk like that,” you scold, fighting back tears as you begin to clean his wound. “You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it.”
He chuckles, then winces. “If only your determination could heal bullet wounds.”
As you work, you keep up a steady stream of conversation, partly to distract Toto from the pain and partly to keep your own rising fear at bay.
“Do you remember when we first met?” You ask, your hands moving swiftly to staunch the bleeding. “At that ridiculous ball in Washington?”
Toto’s eyes soften at the memory. “How could I forget? You were the most beautiful woman in the room, and I was the fool who spilled champagne all over your dress.”
You laugh despite yourself. “And then you insisted on giving me your jacket to cover the stain, even though it was three sizes too big.”
“It was worth the embarrassment,” Toto says softly. “It got you to talk to me.”
A sharp intake of breath from Toto makes you pause in your ministrations. “I’m sorry, love. I know it hurts.”
He shakes his head. “Don’t apologize. You’re doing your best. You always do.”
You blink back tears, focusing on the task at hand. “We have so much left to do, Toto. Remember our plans? The house by the lake, the children we talked about ...”
Toto’s hand finds yours, squeezing weakly. “Tell me about them. Our children.”
You swallow hard, playing along even as your heart breaks. “Well, there’s little Torger, of course. He would have your eyes and your stubborn chin.”
“Poor lad,” Toto quips, his voice growing fainter.
“And our daughter,” you continue, your voice wavering. “She would be as smart as her father and as headstrong as her mother. Heaven help us when she would’ve gotten older.”
Toto’s eyes begin to drift closed. “They sound perfect.”
Panic seizes you. “Toto? Toto, stay with me. Please, darling, you have to fight.”
His eyes open again with visible effort. “I’m trying, my love. But I’m so tired.”
You look around frantically. “Doctor! We need a doctor here!”
But the overwhelmed medical staff are all occupied with other critical patients. You’re on your own.
“Look at me,” you plead, cupping his face in your hands. “Do you remember what you promised me on our wedding day? You said you’d love me in this life and the next. You can’t break that promise now.”
A strange look passes over Toto’s face. “The next life,” he murmurs. “Yes, I remember. I’ve always remembered, somehow.”
Confusion mixes with your fear. “What do you mean?”
Toto’s gaze becomes distant. “I’ve loved you before, Y/N. In other times, other places. I don’t know how I know this, but I do.”
You shake your head, tears flowing freely now. “You’re delirious, my love. Save your strength.”
“No,” Toto insists with surprising force. “Listen to me. This isn’t the end. I will find you again. I swear it.”
His words stir something deep within you, a sense of déjà vu so strong it takes your breath away. “Toto, I-”
But before you can finish, Toto’s body is wracked by a violent coughing fit. Blood trickles from the corner of his mouth.
“No, no, no,” you chant, redoubling your efforts to save him. “Don’t you dare leave me, Toto Wolff. Don’t you dare.”
Toto manages to lift a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. “My brave, beautiful Y/N. How I wish we had more time.”
You lean into his touch. “We will. You’ll get better and we’ll have all the time in the world.”
But even as you say the words, you can feel Toto slipping away. His breathing becomes more labored, his skin growing cold beneath your touch.
“Kiss me,” he whispers. “One last time.”
Choking back a sob, you lean down and press your lips to his. You try to pour all your love, all your hope, all your desperation into that kiss.
As you pull back, Toto’s eyes meet yours one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” he breathes.
And then he’s gone.
For a moment, you’re frozen in disbelief. Then a wail of anguish tears from your throat, echoing through the hospital tent.
As you collapse across Toto’s still form, sobs wracking your body, a strange sensation washes over you. It’s as if you’re remembering something you’ve never experienced — other lives, other deaths, other heartbreaks.
In that moment, you know with absolute certainty that this isn’t the end. Somehow, someway, you and Toto will find each other again.
As the chaos of the field hospital swirls around you, you whisper a promise against Toto’s cold lips. “I’ll be waiting for you, my love. In this life or the next.”
And somewhere, beyond the veil of death, a spark of hope ignites. The wheel of time turns, and two souls begin their journey once more, drawn together by a love that refuses to die.
London, 1894
The London fog hangs heavy in the air as you hurry through the winding streets, your heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and fear. You pull your cloak tighter, glancing over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t been followed. Finally, you reach your destination: a nondescript townhouse in a respectable neighborhood.
You knock quickly, a pre-arranged pattern. The door opens almost immediately, and you’re pulled inside by strong, familiar arms.
“My darling,” Toto Wolff murmurs, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “I was beginning to worry.”
You melt into his embrace, inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry, love. It was difficult to get away tonight.”
Toto’s brow furrows as he notices your wince when he holds you. “He hurt you again, didn’t he?”
You look away, unable to meet his gaze. “It’s nothing, Toto. Please, let’s not waste our precious time together talking about him.”
But Toto gently cups your face, turning it towards him. “It’s not nothing. You don’t deserve this, Y/N. Let me take you away from all this. We could start a new life together, somewhere far from here.”
You sigh, leaning into his touch. “You know we can’t. The scandal would ruin you. Your business, your reputation ...”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Toto insists. “I care about you. I love you.”
Those three words, so freely given, bring tears to your eyes. “And I love you. More than I ever thought possible. But the world isn’t kind to women who leave their husbands, no matter how cruel those husbands might be.”
Toto’s jaw clenches. “Then let me confront him. I have influence, connections. I could make him disappear.”
You shake your head vehemently. “No, I won’t have you risk everything for me. These stolen moments ... they’re enough. They have to be.”
Toto pulls you close again, more gently this time. “They’ll never be enough. Not when I know you’re suffering. Not when every fiber of my being aches to make you my wife, to give you the life you deserve.”
You look up at him, struck once again by the intensity of his gaze. “Sometimes ... sometimes I feel as though we’ve lived this before. This longing, this impossible love. Does that sound mad?”
A strange expression crosses Toto’s face. “No, my love. It doesn’t sound mad at all. I’ve felt it too. As if we’ve known each other across lifetimes.”
You’re about to respond when a loud banging on the door makes you both jump.
“Open up, Wolff!” A familiar, slurred voice calls out. “I know she’s in there!”
Your blood runs cold. “It’s him. Oh God, Toto, it’s my husband. He must have followed me.”
Toto’s expression hardens. “Stay here,” he commands, moving towards the door.
But you grab his arm. “No, please! He’s drunk, he’s dangerous. Let me handle this.”
Before Toto can protest, you rush to the door and open it slightly. Your husband’s red, enraged face greets you.
“So it’s true,” he snarls. “My own wife, carrying on with this ... this upstart robber baron!”
You try to keep your voice calm. “Richard, please. Let’s go home and talk about this.”
But Richard is beyond reason. He shoves the door open, nearly knocking you over. Toto is there in an instant, steadying you.
“Get your hands off my wife,” Richard growls.
Toto’s voice is ice cold. “I suggest you leave, sir. Before you do something you’ll regret.”
Richard laughs bitterly. “Regret? The only thing I regret is not seeing this sooner. How long has this been going on, eh? How long have you been making a fool of me?”
You step forward, hands raised placatingly. “Richard, please. It’s not what you think.”
“Not what I think?” Richard roars. “Do you take me for an idiot?”
In his rage, he lashes out, his hand connecting with your cheek with a sickening crack. You stumble backwards, crying out in pain.
Toto moves with lightning speed, tackling Richard to the ground. “How dare you lay a hand on her!” He shouts, his fist connecting with Richard’s jaw.
The two men grapple on the floor, trading blows. You watch in horror, frozen in place.
Suddenly, Richard’s hand emerges from his coat, clutching a revolver. Time seems to slow down as he aims it at Toto.
“No!” You scream, throwing yourself between them just as Richard pulls the trigger.
The sound of the gunshot is deafening in the small space. For a moment, everything is still. Then you look down, seeing the rapidly spreading red stain on your dress.
“Y/N!” Toto cries out, catching you as you collapse.
Richard stares in shock, the gun falling from his limp fingers. “I ... I didn’t mean ...”
But Toto isn’t listening. He’s cradling you in his arms, his face a mask of anguish. “Stay with me, my love. Please, stay with me.”
You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Toto ... my Toto ...”
“Don’t speak,” he urges. “Save your strength. Help is coming.”
But you both know it’s too late. You can feel your life ebbing away with each labored breath.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I’m so sorry we never got our chance.”
Toto’s tears fall on your face as he leans close. “Don’t be sorry. We’ll have another chance. I swear it. I’ll find you again, in the next life.”
A sense of peace washes over you at his words. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Toto vows fiercely. “This isn’t the end for us. It can’t be.”
With the last of your strength, you pull him down for a final kiss. As your lips meet, memories flood your mind – not just of this life, but of others. Viking halls, Vatican corridors, Civil War battlefields. Through it all, one constant.
Toto.
As darkness closes in, you manage one last whisper. “Until we meet again, my love.”
Your eyes close, your hand going limp in Toto’s grasp. The last thing you hear is his anguished cry, a sound that seems to echo not just through the room, but across time itself.
Indiana, 1932
The dilapidated streets of the once-thriving town are a stark contrast to the sleek black car that rolls through them. A powerful mobster sits in the back, his sharp eyes taking in the changes a decade has wrought on his childhood home.
As the car stops in front of a run-down tenement, a young boy approaches cautiously. Toto steps out, adjusting his expensive suit.
“You Toto?” The boy asks, eyeing him warily.
Toto nods. “I am. And you must be Jimmy. You’ve grown since I last saw you.”
Jimmy’s face darkens. “Yeah, well, a lot’s changed. You here to see her?”
“I am,” Toto confirms, his voice softening. “How is she, Jimmy?”
The boy’s shoulders slump. “Not good, mister. Not good at all. Follow me.”
As they climb the creaking stairs, Jimmy speaks in a low voice. “She’s been sick for months. Tuberculosis, the doc says. But she won’t stop giving her food to us kids. Says we need it more.”
Toto’s jaw clenches. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? I would have-”
“She wouldn’t let us,” Jimmy interrupts. “Said you had your own life now, that she didn’t want to be a burden.”
They reach a door on the third floor. Jimmy hesitates before opening it. “Just ... prepare yourself, okay?”
Toto steels himself as they enter the small, dimly lit room. His heart nearly stops when he sees you lying on the bed, a mere shadow of the vibrant girl he remembers.
Your eyes light up when you see him, even as a coughing fit wracks your frail body. “Toto? Is it really you?”
He’s at your side in an instant, taking your hand in his. “It’s me, my love. I’m here.”
You manage a weak smile. “You shouldn’t have come. It’s not safe for you here.”
Toto shakes his head, fighting back tears. “To hell with safety. Why didn’t you tell me you were ill? I could have helped.”
Another cough shakes you, and this time, blood stains your lips. Toto reaches for a handkerchief, gently wiping it away.
“I didn’t want to be a burden,” you whisper. “You’ve done so well for yourself, Toto. I couldn’t bear to drag you back here.”
Toto’s voice is fierce. “You could never be a burden. Don’t you know that you’re everything to me?”
You look at him sadly. “We were children then. The world’s changed. We’ve changed.”
“Not where it matters,” he insists. “My feelings for you have never changed.”
Jimmy, who’s been hovering by the door, speaks up. “I’ll, uh, give you two some privacy.” He slips out, closing the door behind him.
Alone now, Toto takes in your gaunt face, your hollow cheeks. “Why haven’t you been eating?” He asks softly.
You look away. “Times are hard. The children need it more than I do.”
“And what about what you need?” Toto demands, his voice breaking. “Did you think I wouldn’t want to know? That I wouldn’t move heaven and earth to help you?”
A tear slips down your cheek. “I couldn’t ask that of you. You’ve built a new life. I’m just ... I’m just a relic of the past.”
Toto cups your face gently, turning it towards him. “You’re not a relic. You’re the love of my life. The only thing that’s mattered all these years.”
You search his eyes, seeing the truth there. “Oh, Toto. I’ve missed you so much.”
He leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere. We’re going to get you better and then-”
But you shake your head weakly. “It’s too late for that, my love. I can feel it. I don’t have much time left.”
“Don’t say that,” Toto pleads. “You can’t give up. Not now that we’re together again.”
Another coughing fit overtakes you, more violent than before. When it subsides, you look at Toto with a strange mix of sadness and wonder.
“You know,” you murmur, “I’ve had the strangest dreams lately. Of us, together, but in different times, different places. Is that mad?”
Toto’s breath catches. “No, it’s not mad at all. I’ve had them too. Like ... like we’ve lived this love before.”
You manage a small smile. “Perhaps we have. Perhaps we always will.”
Toto brings your hand to his lips, kissing it softly. “Then let this not be the end. Fight, my love. Fight to stay with me.”
“I’m trying,” you whisper. “But I’m so tired, Toto. So very tired.”
He climbs onto the bed, gathering you carefully in his arms. “Then rest. I’ve got you now. I’m not letting go.”
You nestle against his chest, feeling safe for the first time in years. “Toto?”
“Yes, my love?”
“Will you tell me about your life? What you’ve been doing all these years?”
Toto hesitates, not wanting to speak of his less-than-legal activities. But he sees the genuine interest in your eyes and begins to talk, telling you sanitized versions of his rise to power.
As he speaks, he feels you relaxing in his arms, your breathing becoming more even. For a moment, he allows himself to hope.
But then you look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of love and regret. “I wish we had more time,” you breathe.
Toto’s heart clenches. “We will. You’re going to get better, and we’ll have all the time in the world.”
You shake your head slightly. “Promise me something.”
“Anything,” he vows without hesitation.
“Look after them. Jimmy and the others. They’ll need someone now.”
Toto nods, tears flowing freely now. “I promise. But you’ll be here too. You have to be.”
You reach up weakly, touching his cheek. “Kiss me? One last time?”
Choking back a sob, Toto leans down, pressing his lips to yours in a gentle, desperate kiss.
As you part, you look into his eyes one final time. “Until we meet again, my love,” you whisper.
And then you’re gone, your body going limp in Toto’s arms.
For a moment, the world stands still. Then Toto’s anguished cry echoes through the small room, a sound of grief so profound it seems to transcend time itself.
As he holds your lifeless body, Toto makes a silent vow. He will find you again, in this life or the next. For a love like yours cannot be bound by the limits of a single lifetime.
Monaco, 2024
The bustling energy of the paddock swirls around you as you make your way through the crowd, one hand resting protectively on your slightly swollen belly. Despite the chaos, you move with confidence, knowing that at any moment ...
“There you are, mein Schatz,” a familiar voice calls out. Toto appears at your side as if by magic. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you feeling alright? Do you need to sit down?”
You can’t help but smile at his concern. “I’m fine, Toto. Just taking a little walk. The baby’s been restless today.”
Toto’s hand immediately joins yours on your belly, his face lighting up with wonder. “Is that so? Well then, little one, let’s find a more comfortable spot for your mother, shall we?”
Before you can protest, Toto is guiding you towards the Mercedes hospitality area, his arm protectively around your waist. As you walk, heads turn and whispers follow. It’s still a novelty for many to see the usually intense and focused Toto Wolff so openly affectionate.
“Toto, really, I’m okay,” you insist, even as you allow him to lead you. “You don’t need to fuss so much.”
He gives you a look that’s equal parts love and stubbornness. “Nonsense. It’s my job to fuss over you. Both of you.”
As you enter the cool, quiet Mercedes suite, Toto immediately starts arranging pillows on a plush sofa. “Here, sit down. Can I get you anything? Water? A snack? Perhaps a foot massage?”
You laugh, settling onto the sofa. “A water would be lovely, thank you. But then you need to relax. Don’t you have a race to prepare for?”
Toto waves a hand dismissively as he fetches your water. “The team can manage without me for a few minutes. You and our child are my priority.”
As he hands you the water and sits beside you, you can’t help but marvel at the man before you. Toto Wolff, the billionaire, the racing mogul, the man whose mere presence commands respect throughout the paddock — and here he is, fussing over you like a mother hen.
“What are you thinking about?” Toto asks, noticing your contemplative expression.
You take his hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “Just ... how different things are now. How perfect. Sometimes I feel like we’ve been waiting lifetimes for this happiness.”
A strange look passes over Toto’s face, a mix of recognition and wonder. “You know, I’ve had that same feeling. Like we knew each other before.”
You nod, a shiver running down your spine. “It’s odd, isn’t it? But it feels ... right, somehow.”
Toto pulls you closer, his hand resting on your belly once more. “Perhaps we have known each other across lifetimes. And perhaps this is the one where we finally got it right.”
Just then, you feel a strong kick from the baby. Toto’s eyes widen in delight.
“Did you feel that?” He exclaims, his usual composure completely forgotten.
You laugh, wincing slightly. “Trust me, I felt it. I think someone’s eager to join the conversation.”
Toto leans down, speaking directly to your belly. “Hello there, little racer. Are you practicing your podium celebrations already?”
As if in response, there’s another kick. Toto looks up at you, his eyes shining with unshed tears of joy.
“I never knew I could be this happy,” he murmurs. “You’ve given me everything. A love I never thought possible, a family of my own ...”
You cup his cheek, touched by his openness. “Oh, Toto. You’ve given me just as much. More, even. You’ve given me a home, a sense of belonging I’ve never had before.”
Toto turns his head to kiss your palm. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way. Both of you.”
Just then, there’s a knock at the door. Toto sighs, reluctantly pulling away.
“Come in,” he calls out, his ‘team principal’ voice back in place.
A nervous-looking intern pokes his head in. “I’m sorry to interrupt, sir, but the strategy meeting is about to start. They’re asking for you.”
Toto nods. “Thank you. I’ll be there in a moment.”
As the intern leaves, Toto turns back to you with an apologetic smile. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. Will you be alright here?”
You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Go, lead your team to victory. We’ll be right here cheering you on.”
Toto stands, but hesitates. “Are you sure you don’t need anything? I could have someone bring you some snacks or maybe a blanket if you’re cold ...”
“Toto,” you say firmly, but with affection. “Go. We’re fine. I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”
He leans down to kiss you softly. “Alright, alright. I’m going. I love you both so much.”
“We love you too,” you reply, giving him a gentle push. “Now go be the brilliant team principal I married.”
As Toto finally leaves, you settle back into the couch, your hands resting on your belly. You feel another kick and smile.
“Your father’s quite something, isn’t he?” You murmur to your unborn child. “But don’t worry. No matter how busy he gets, no matter how many races he wins, you and I will always be his greatest victory.”
As you sit there, surrounded by the muffled sounds of the paddock, you’re filled with a sense of contentment so profound it almost overwhelms you. After so many lifetimes of heartache and separation, you and Toto have finally found your happily ever after.
And as your baby kicks again, you smile, knowing that this is just the beginning of your greatest adventure yet.
706 notes · View notes
taurasiluvr · 5 months ago
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how you can help palestine
★ to the public, you and diana taurasi hated one another – you were the new, best young thing in the wnba and she was the seasoned vet – there was no other option. however, maybe that's not the whole story. ★ enemies w/ benefits ft. dt
 ⠀ ── ⠀warnings ;; nsfw under the cut, mdni. strap-usage, slight degradation and fluff, mommy kink (nothing too crazy), aftercare. might turn into a series if enough people ask for it ;)
 ⠀ ── ⠀word count ;; 2.6k
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the final buzzer sounded, showing the end of a heated game between the phoenix mercury and the las vegas aces. the aces had come out strong and won, the crowd's roar echoed through the arena. the players were a mix of exhausted and exhilarated, their emotions raw and visible. you were standing with your teammates, and you couldn’t resist the chance to bother diana, the vet whose shadow you were often compared to.
as the players began to mingle and exchange the usual post-game pleasantries, you approached taurasi with a sly smile. "tough game, huh?" you say, your voice loud enough for those nearby to hear. the grin on your face was deliberately infuriating.
diana turned to face me, her eyes narrowing. she was still catching her breath, sweat trickling down her face, but her competitive spirit was undiminished. "yeah, well, you win some, you lose some," she replied coolly, but the irritation in her voice was unmistakable.
"guess you’re losing more than winning these days," you continued, the taunt coming easily.
the rivalry between us was well-documented, and the media loved to play it up. they thrived on the narrative of the veteran versus the rising star, and moments like this only fueled the fire.
diana's eyes flashed, and for a moment, you thought she might lash out. instead, she stepped closer, her voice low so only you could hear. "you really want to do this here, now?" she asked, the edge in her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games.
the intensity in her gaze gave me pause, but you weren't about to back down. "why not? it's not like we’re friends," you shot back, keeping my voice just as quiet but no less pointed.
"oh trust me sweetheart, being your friend is the last thing on my list," she spat as she looked me up and down.
your lips quirked up into a smirk. "good, cause i'd hate to be disappointed."
diana's eyes narrowed further, but there was a spark there, something more than just anger. "really wanna start this now, princess? sure you can handle it,"
the tension between you two was palpable, that neither of you could deny, even if you wanted to. as the crowd began to disperse and the arena started to empty, you both knew how this would end.
you hated that nickname, "princess" – it seemed everyone and their mom liked using the fact that you're a young, rising star to belittle you. not to mention you've gotten quite popular with media, nicknamed the wnba's princess.
however, you wanted to see how far you could push diana.
"see you around, taurasi," you said, turning away with a casual wave. but you didn't get far before you felt her hand gripping your arm, stopping you.
"not so fast," she said, her grip firm. "we're, not done here."
you raised an eyebrow, looking back at her. "oh? got something else to say?"
her eyes held yours, and for a moment, it was as if the rest of the world faded away. "you know where to find me," she said, her voice low and unmistakably suggestive.
later that night, under the cover of darkness, you found yourself outside her house. you knocked, a part of you wondering if this was a terrible idea, but the larger part of you knowing exactly why you were here. the door opened, and there she was, the same fierce determination in her eyes that she had on the court.
"get in here," she said, pulling you inside. the door closed behind you, and the air between you crackled with unresolved tension.
before you could say anything, her lips were on yours, urgent and demanding. you kissed her back with equal fervor, the line between hate and desire blurring rapidly. it was always like this – a collision of raw emotion and physical need.
you pushed her against the wall, your hands tangling in her hair as the kiss deepened. she responded with a growl, her fingers digging into your sides. it was a battle, a struggle for dominance, but that was part of the thrill – and at the end, you both knew who would win.
her hands found your hair, pulling it just enough for you to let out something in between a yelp and a moan. "wanna test me right now, princess?"
you couldn't help but smirk at the challenge in her voice, the nickname "princess" now tinged with a hint of admiration rather than mockery.
"always up for a challenge," you replied breathlessly, your own hands finding their way to her waist, pulling her closer.
diana's lips curved into a wicked smile as she leaned in close, her breath hot against your ear. "good," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "cause i plan on making you remember who you're dealing with."
with that, she kissed you again, fiercely and hungrily, her tongue sliding against yours in a dance of desire and defiance. the air was thick with tension, the room alive with the sound of ragged breaths and quiet moans. clothes were discarded in haste, each move driven by an unspoken challenge to push the other to the edge.
you backed her towards the bed, your hands exploring every inch of her body as if trying to memorize the feel of her beneath your touch. diana responded eagerly, her nails grazing your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine. it was a clash of wills, a battle of dominance, but in the midst of it all, there was an undeniable attraction that neither of you could deny.
she pushed you on to the bed, you sat down and looked up at the older woman – her slicked-back bun, her slicked-back bun starting to come undone, wisps of hair framing her determined face. there was an intensity in her eyes that made your heart race, a mix of challenge and desire that left you breathless. you watched as she stood over you, her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, the air between you thick with anticipation.
she gripped your face, pulling it upward so she could fully watch you. "didn't like that attitude earlier princess, do i need fuck some politeness into ya?"
her words sent a shiver down your spine, the mixture of dominance and desire igniting something deep within you – diana always seemed to have that effect on you. "maybe you do," you shot back, your voice trembling with a blend of defiance and arousal.
diana's eyes darkened, a smirk playing on her lips as she leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear. "again, with that damn tone. didn't i tell you to fix it?"
her voice was a low, dangerous whisper, the threat behind her words only heightening your arousal.
"guess i'm a slow learner," you replied, your voice shaky but filled with a defiant edge.
diana's grip tightened on your face, her nails digging slightly into your skin. "then i'll have to teach you a lesson you won't forget this time, huh princess?"
without warning, she captured your lips in a bruising kiss, her teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that made you gasp. she pushed you back onto the bed, her body pressing down on yours, her hands pinning your wrists above your head. the weight of her, the strength in her grip, was intoxicating.
"you think you can handle this, princess?" she murmured against your lips, her voice a mix of challenge and desire.
"try me," you shot back, your own voice breathless with need.
diana's smirk widened, her eyes glinting with a predatory gleam. "oh, i will, honey. i will,"
the next few moments were a blur of heated kisses and urgent touches, your bodies moving together in a franticly with need. she moved with a fierce determination, her hands and lips exploring every inch of your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. it was a battle for dominance, each of you pushing and pulling, trying to assert control even as you surrendered to the her touch.
diana got up for a second, a disappointed moan coming out of your lips before she sent you a warning glare. when she came back, she had exactly what you were waiting for – her treasured strap (or as dee liked to call it, her dick).
she moved with a predatory grace, climbing onto the bed and straddling you, her hands pressing you back against the mattress. diana tore at your clothes, the sound of fabric ripping adding to the intensity of the moment as you let out a small whimper.
her hands roamed over your bare skin, her touch alternately rough and tender. she always knew exactly where to touch, where to kiss, to drive you to the brink and pull you back again.
diana leaned down, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss that left you dizzy. her hands roamed over your body, exploring, claiming, as if trying to assert her dominance. you responded in kind, your fingers digging into her skin, pulling her closer, the need to feel her overwhelming.
"dee," you whimpered as her lips moved to your neck, her teeth grazing your sensitive skin in a way that made you shiver.
her hands gripped your thighs, spreading them apart as she positioned herself between them, her eyes locking onto yours.
diana's smirk widened as she aligned her strap, teasing you for a moment before pushing in slowly. the sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and a slight edge of pain that only heightened your arousal.
"oh fuck, dee." you moaned as one hands moved to your hips, the other quickly found itself on your neck. your eyes fluttered shut, you felt whole again – despite the earlier pain, it felt good now.
"you like that, princess?" her gaze lingered on your face, taking in every expression, every sound, every little thing you did.
she waited for response and when she didn't get any, she gave your neck a squeeze, a moan spilling out of your bruised lips. "y-yes, mommy."
she let out a throaty laugh at that, shaking her head. she wouldn't admit it anyone – except you – but she liked the pet name and the sound of your voice dropped down to her pussy.
"fuck, baby," she rasped out as her head fell back. you gasped, your hands clutching at her shoulders, nails digging in as she began to move.
her thrusts were deliberate, controlled, driving you to the brink and pulling you back again. diana watched you closely, her eyes dark, the connection between you was unyielding. she leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss, swallowing your moans as she continued to move inside you.
the rhythm of her movements was relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. your body responded to her with a need you couldn't control, arching against her, meeting each thrust with desperate urgency. the filthy sounds filled the room, a symphony of gasps, moans, and the slap of skin against skin.
"mommy, please," you whimpered, feeling yourself teetering on the edge of release.
"oh now you wanna be all polite, huh princess?" she growled, her pace quickening, her grip on your hips tightening as she drove you further into a frenzy. "wanna hear you beg."
"please!" you gasped, the word barely more than a whisper as you clung to her, every nerve in your body on fire. "please, mommy, need it."
her eyes flashed with satisfaction, and she leaned in, her breath hot against your ear. "that's more like it," she murmured before increasing her pace, each thrust driving you closer and closer to the brink. "good fuckin' girl," she praised.
when your release finally came, it was explosive, your body arching against hers as waves of pleasure crashed over you. diana didn't let up, riding you through your climax, prolonging the intense sensations until you were completely spent, trembling beneath her.
she finally slowed, her movements becoming gentle as she helped you come down from the high. she pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her fingers gently tracing patterns on your skin as you caught your breath.
"better?" she asked, her voice softening, a hint of a smile playing on her lips.
"mhm," you replied, your voice weak but nonetheless satisfied. you looked up at her, seeing the same mix of satisfaction and maybe a hint of affection in her eyes. "always know how to put me in my place."
diana chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "and you always know how to push my buttons, sweetheart."
she cleaned you up, a care that contrasted sharply with the intensity of your previous actions. diana's touch was gentle as she wiped the sweat and remnants of your passion from your skin. the intimacy of the act sent a different kind of warmth through you, one that was softer, more enduring.
as she finished, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, her lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. "you should get some rest," she said, her voice a gentle murmur. "you're leaving early tomorrow,"
you nodded, feeling a mix of exhaustion and contentment. "mmm, you're right."
diana helped you get comfortable, adjusting the pillows and tucking the blanket around you. it was a rare moment of domesticity between you two, a fleeting glimpse of what things could be if circumstances were different.
"will you stay?" you found yourself asking, your voice barely more than a whisper. it was a vulnerable question, one that you weren't sure you wanted to hear the answer to.
if you were at your place, she'd usually leave and if you were at her's, she'd usually sleep in the guest bedroom. however, for some odd reason, tonight felt different.
she hesitated for a moment, her expression softening as she looked at you. "just a little while," she finally said, climbing into bed beside you.
you turned to face her, your bodies fitting together in a way that felt both familiar and comforting. diana wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close, her warmth enveloping you.
"you know this doesn't change anything," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear.
"i know," you replied, your voice equally soft. "but maybe, just for tonight, we can pretend it does."
she didn't respond, but the way she held you, the way her fingers traced soothing patterns on your back, told you that she understood. for now, in the quiet of the early morning, you could both set aside the rivalry, the competition, and just be.
when you awoke, you both lay there for a while, the early morning light casting a soft glow over the room. eventually, you knew you had to leave. as you got dressed, diana watched you, her expression unreadable.
"good luck with the next game," diana said, her tone neutral but her eyes betraying a hint of something more. "i'll be watching it," she added, her voice tinged with amusement (and maybe a bit of mockery).
"me too," you replied with a smile. "try not to get a tech next game,"
she rolled her eyes as she waved you away, pushing the covers over her face. you laughed, getting out of the room and walked toward the door.
and you stepped out into the early morning light, you couldn’t help but smile again. whatever this was – enemies, rivals, lovers – it was yours and diana's alone, a secret game played in the shadows, far from the prying eyes of the public. and for now, that was enough.
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if you enjoyed, any interaction is greatly appreciated!
with love, rylin 𝜗𝜚
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awkward-walking-potato · 3 months ago
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A Clumsy Heart
Logan doesn’t take kindly to someone causing his girl Dumb
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Y/N was a whirlwind of bubbly energy, with a perpetual smile and a tendency to trip over their own feet. They were the kind of person who made a mess of Logan's perfectly organized life. Y/N once turned the Danger Room into a karaoke stage, much to the dismay of Cyclops, who was less than thrilled to hear ABBA blaring through the intercom. Logan, on the other hand, found it all amusing. After all, he had a soft spot for Y/N, despite how different they were from anyone he’d ever been with.
It wasn’t that Y/N was unintelligent; they were just... well, distracted. Their mind would wander into thoughts of pretty clouds and the taste of their favorite ice cream in the middle of a battle strategy meeting. They were clumsy too. Just yesterday, they had tripped over nothing in the mansion's hallway, sending a tray of freshly made cookies flying through the air and directly into Logan’s lap. He grumbled, wiping off crumbs from his shirt, but the slight twitch of a smile tugged at his lips. Y/N had looked up at him with wide eyes, expecting to get chewed out, but Logan just sighed and pulled them up from the floor.
“C’mon, bub,” he had muttered. “Next time, try not to send the cookies on a mission to kill me.”
Y/N had giggled, brushing crumbs off their shirt and mumbling apologies, but Logan’s heart had already softened.
One afternoon, Logan and Y/N were out in town, grabbing a coffee at a small café. Y/N, as usual, was being their cheery, clumsy self, chatting animatedly with the barista about the latest book they were reading. The barista, a young guy who clearly had no patience, rolled his eyes.
“Must be hard for someone like you to get through a whole book, huh?” the barista sneered. “You don’t seem like the sharpest tool in the shed.”
Y/N froze, the light in their eyes dimming slightly as they processed the insult. Logan’s keen senses caught the shift immediately. His grip on the coffee cup tightened, his knuckles going white as the bone claws threatened to unsheathe. He could feel the anger boiling under his skin, but he kept his voice low, dangerous.
“Watch your mouth,” Logan growled, his gaze narrowing on the barista. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Logan’s presence filled the small space. “Y/N here’s got more heart than you’ll ever have.”
The barista gulped, his bravado crumbling under Logan’s intense stare. He stammered an apology, but Logan wasn’t interested in hearing it. His focus was on Y/N, who had gone unusually quiet.
“Hey,” Logan said softly, pulling Y/N aside after grabbing their drinks. “Don’t listen to jerks like that. You’re not dumb.”
Y/N looked up at him, eyes still a bit watery. “But sometimes I mess things up…”
Logan shook his head, placing a rough, yet gentle, hand on their shoulder. “We all mess up, bub. Doesn’t mean you’re dumb. You got a good heart, and that’s more important than anything else.”
Y/N managed a small smile, their spirits lifting slightly. Logan wasn’t the type to give out compliments, so when he did, it meant the world.
“Thanks, Logan,” Y/N murmured, leaning into his side as they walked out of the café together. “I’m lucky to have you.”
Logan grunted, a faint smile playing on his lips as they walked back to the mansion. “Yeah, well, I’m the lucky one. Just… try not to trip on the way back, alright?”
Y/N laughed, the sound light and joyful. And as they headed home, Logan knew that no matter how clumsy or ditsy Y/N could be, they were the best thing that had ever happened to him. And woe to anyone who dared to think otherwise.
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bluespring864 · 10 months ago
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Grigor the passing shots and the holding serve is all very sexy, now please convert a break point, yeah?
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arjwrites · 4 months ago
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Times You Threatened to Kill Dean Winchester- Dean Winchester x Reader
Summary: A brief account of all the times you wanted to kill a certain hunter.
Warnings: Language, character death, thoughts of suicide, references to sex, threats... A good mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 2.3k A/N: This one was a labor of love! I have a few other fics in the works as per a few requests I have received, but this one was speaking to me tonight, so I sat down to write it! Please enjoy- in the meantime, your requests are coming soon! <3
-
“Dean Winchester, I could just KILL you!” 
You were extremely familiar with the Winchester boys’ prank wars by now. You had been witness to a few different cycles of this behavior over the many years you had known them- in fact, if someone were to dig through the old cardboard box you kept hidden in the spare room at Bobby’s, they’d probably find a few faded teenage pictures of a bald Sam after Dean snuck Nair into his shampoo, or a sleeping Dean with some sharpie-d enhancements adorning his face. But up until now, you had always kept to the sidelines. Time and time again, you claimed Switzerland to avoid their shenanigans, because it always got way too out of hand.
But today, when you climbed out of bed, still groggy with sleep, stepping into the bathroom of your shared motel room, an entire bucket’s worth of ice water that had been balanced atop the door came crashing down on you. The sensation sent a shockwave through your whole body, and from the noise that escaped your lips, you would’ve thought you had been shot. And to add insult to injury, the bucket itself smacked against your head on its way down. 
So to start your day, you were soaking wet, freezing, pissed off, and nursing a swelling bump atop your head. A blind rage filled your body. You knew it had to have been Dean, it was his turn to retaliate after Sam had messed with the stereo in the Impala so that it only played Barbie Girl. It had been a long, silent ride home after last night’s hunt. 
“Dean Winchester, you are a dead man!” The words came bursting out of you as you stormed your way out of the bathroom.
“What did I- Oh my GOD. That wasn’t for you.” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of his head. He knew he had fucked up. 
The first thing to go flying across the room was the bucket, which nailed Dean in the chest with an anticlimactic thud. You followed close behind it. At full speed, you sprinted into Dean, knocking him back onto the bed behind him.
“Get off me! You’re soaking wet!” Dean protested, throwing his arms between you two in an effort to shield himself. 
“Yeah, how do you like it?” You weren’t going to back down. 
So that is how you ended up wrestling with Dean. You put up a surprisingly good fight for a lot longer than you expected, able to overpower him via sheer force of will. Once Dean got his bearings, though, he flipped you over, hovering on top of you and pinning you to the bed by your wrists. You held an intense eye contact for a brief moment while you each caught your breath. In doing so, you came to the mutual realization that this was ridiculous. You didn’t know who cracked the smile first, but as Dean’s grew, so did yours, until you were grinning like idiots and erupting into laughter.
“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you wet and in my bed,” Dean raised his eyebrows and tossed you a sly wink.
“Yup, I’m doing it. I am killing you.” 
-
“Dean I swear to God, if you keep me cooped up in this motel room for one more minute I am going to lose my mind.” 
“Would you relax? Sam and I are almost back at the witch’s house. We’ll gank her, it’ll reverse the spell, you’ll be right as rain.”
“God I hope so. This is driving me up the wall. I will never watch another second of daytime TV after this.” With the press of a button, you hung up the phone and tossed it across the room onto the bed. This was getting seriously old.
While taking on a vengeful spirit case, you and the Winchesters had run into a particularly pesky witch. Long story short, she cast a spell at you, and none of you could figure out what it was. It was driving you crazy, and what was driving you crazier was that the boys had locked you in the motel room for two days while they tracked the witch back down. All around town, all over the area, until they finally caught her trail heading back to her own house. Where they had started.
The problem was, you felt fine. You really didn’t think there was anything wrong with you. You wanted to get out there and help them, do some research, go to the damn grocery store, literally anything. But Sam and Dean had insisted that the safest thing for you to do was to stay behind. We don’t know what she did to you, Y/N. It could be dangerous for you to leave. It’s better if you stay here and do absolutely nothing. It made sense, to an extent, you just weren’t very happy about it. 
After a few hours and several more episodes of the most mind-numbing daytime talk shows you could imagine, you heard the sound of keys jingling and the motel door creeping open. In came Dean, wearing a strange expression on his face. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve thought it was fear.
“So? Ding dong, the witch is dead, I don’t have to blow my brains out?” You asked, more than ready to be done with the whole fiasco.
“Um.” Dean was avoiding eye contact. His hands slipped into his pocket and he sucked in a long, sharp breath.
“Dean.” 
“So, uh, maybe…” He slipped a hand across his mouth, stalling his words. “Look, you might have to stick around here for one more day. We uh, think she might be in the town over, but we kind of lost her trail.”
On the car ride back to the motel, Dean had prepared for you to react by yelling, screaming, hitting, anything to unleash the anger he knew was coming. In fact, that was why Sam had waited in the car- to give him a little time to break the news. But in front of Dean was something much, much scarier. Your jaw was clenched, your gaze was distant, and your eyes narrowed. You were just… sitting there. The silence lasted for what felt like ages. It was enough to send the man spiraling. Finally, you looked up.
“Dean?” 
“... Yes?”
“You better kill that witch tomorrow before I kill you.”
“Duly noted.”
Losing Sam had been just about the worst thing that could have ever happened to any of you. Watching him fall to his knees after Jake backstabbed him, Dean cradling him as the life finally slipped from his body… It brought you to tears just thinking about it. You had loved Sam like a little brother. But as much as it tore you up inside, his death had happened. So goes the life of a hunter. It was time to let Sam rest. 
Dean, however, had still refused to make peace with the loss of his brother. It had been several days and Sam’s lifeless body was still laying out on a mattress. Dean just couldn’t let go. You and Bobby had begged him to let you lay Sam to rest, but he simply wasn’t having it. Dean was angry, defensive, and hurt, far deeper than you had ever seen. After conferring privately with each other, you and Bobby figured maybe it would be best to give him a little time alone with Sam, for closure’s sake. 
So a day later when Sam Winchester, live and in the flesh, waltzed into the room to thank you and Bobby for patching up his wound without so much as a second thought, your heart dropped like a rock. The feeling that washed over you was worse than any grief you had felt this past week. Of course, it was amazing to have Sam back- it felt like a miracle. But miracles don’t just happen, especially not to Winchesters. And when you looked to Dean, he refused to meet your eyes.
Not wanting to alert Sam of the situation, you made an excuse to get Dean to follow you outside. You trudged as far as you could in silence, you not daring to look in his direction, until you knew you were out of earshot from the house. 
“What did you do, Dean?” Your back was still turned, and your voice was hardly a whisper. You were surprised Dean could hear you at all.
“Y/N-”
“What did you DO? How long did they give you?” The question ripped from your chest, but you weren’t sure you were ready to hear the answer. 
“A year.” 
One year. You dropped to the ground. The gravel dug into your skin, but all your senses were numbed with hurt. You wanted to ask what made him think he could do this- to Bobby, to Sammy, to you? But when you opened your mouth to speak, the ache that resonated through your chest stifled the words.
Dean slid down next to you in silence. He wrapped a single arm around you, and you leaned your head into him. All you could do was cry silent, heavy tears. For what felt like hours, there was nothing you could say. The pit in your stomach swirled back and forth from anger to despair to fear, culminating in a blinding nausea. You looked up at Dean, who simply stared straight ahead. There was a staggering coldness in his eyes that drove the knife further into your core.  
“God damn it Dean Winchester, I could just kill you myself, right now.” 
“You’ll have to get in line, sweetheart.” 
-
If you thought a few days without Sam had been bad, four whole months without Dean was your own personal hell. After Dean’s time was up, you couldn’t bear to be around anyone who reminded you of him. You hadn't spoken to Bobby or Sam or any other hunters- any other people, for that matter. You had practically dug yourself a grave, isolated from the world around you, lost and in the dark. 
This was the worst hurt you had ever felt in your life. Four months later and the wound in your heart was just as fresh as the day it arrived there. Every time it began to heal, one wrong move and it started aching, throbbing, bleeding again. But at this point, the pain was all you had left of Dean. So you let it bleed. 
The knock on the motel room door did nothing to stir you from your place in bed. It had been days, maybe a week, since you had risen for anything but your basic needs. You had called the front desk to extend your stay multiple times, running up a scammed credit card Dean had probably given to you at some point. There was nowhere else for you to go, so you laid down weary roots right here. 
The knock persisted but you remained still. It could’ve been the police, the president, or the pope and you couldn’t have cared any less. Go away. There was a clanging noise followed by the shifting of the lock’s mechanisms. Whoever it was, they were breaking into your room. A few months ago, you would’ve jumped into action, but all of your hunter self-preservation instincts were long gone. Whoever it was could come in and take whatever they wanted and shoot you dead in the process. Maybe they’d be doing you a favor. 
You rolled over in bed as the door creaked open, prepared to lay eyes on whoever was here to bring your demise. However, you were met with the one face that could have coaxed you out of the bed. The face you hadn’t seen in four months. The look in his eyes teemed with love and longing, which made your stomach churn. 
“This is a real sick joke.”
“No, Y/N, it’s-” 
For the first time since before Dean’s death, you snapped into hunter-mode, rising to your feet and snatching holy water and a knife from the bag under your bed in the process. It was a little slow, a little clumsy, and clearly a bit out of practice.
“You know, I was about to let whoever you were come right in and kill me. What reason do I have to stick around anymore? But this- this is just sick.” You laughed- your first laugh in months, and yet nothing was funny. 
“It’s me, Y/N, I-”
“No. I’m going to kill you now.” And you lunged, splashing holy water with one hand and thrusting the knife with the other. 
When Dean caught your hand before the knife could strike him, twisting your arm to defend himself from your lackluster attack, it took you longer than it should have to realize that the holy water hadn’t fazed him. Before it registered, you struggled against his grasp, but months of malnutrition and stagnant muscles had left you weak. You cried out as you fought, before fully dissolving into tears and dropping the knife in a mix of defeat and acceptance. Dean placed two heavy hands on your shoulders as if to ground you back in the moment.
“It’s me. I swear.” The beads of holy water that rolled off his face paralleled the tears that rolled off yours. Your hand reached up to wipe a droplet away- partially out of habit, partially to test that he was real, that he wouldn’t disappear at your touch. He didn’t. Instead, both his hands planted on your face, matching your movement. 
“Oh, Dean.” That was the only way you could express it. Dean. Here, real, standing in front of you, and not a demon. Just pure Dean. 
“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and it felt like home. He pulled you into a gentle hug, as if he harbored the same fear as you- that you may disappear beneath his very touch. But you were real, and so was he. You wouldn’t disappear, and neither would he. Dean was back, and because of that, you were back too.
“Good thing you didn’t kill me, right?” 
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xxxdreamscapexxx · 6 months ago
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How badly do you want to win
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G!P Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff
Word count: 5.2k
Description is mostly in the screenshot of the request, so I'm gonna move on to the warnings ;) But also, OMG, I'm so excited about this fic! Thank you, nonnie, for sending this in! I loved it!
Warnings: NSFW, 18+, developing relationship, enemies to friends to lovers, G!P Wanda, Oral sex (both giving and receiving), fingering, vaginal sex, cum swallowing, some thigh fucking, shower sex... I think this might be it, but I could also be wrong.
Masterlist with all my works.
Wanda always thought that Natasha was beautiful. The way she wore her hair in a braid, the determined look in her eyes, whenever she played, the way her body moved and her muscles flexed. She was simply gorgeous. Way better than the rest of her team. And she knew it. She wore that confidence as she walked out on the court, when she played, when she practiced. It was that confidence that first captured Wanda’s attention.
It started as competitiveness, of course. Getting in each-other’s faces, a silent challenge and a glare in their eyes as they measured each-other. But there was more underneath that. Perhaps a kind of recognition of a kindred spirit. Or maybe it was the adrenaline and excitement of the game, but they always felt this pull towards each-other.
On her end, Natasha took one look at Wanda and she knew that she had met her match. Someone who could give as good as she got, not only on the court, but in life as well. The brunette had such intensity in her eyes, such passion… And on a closer look, perhaps a little secret too. At first Natasha thought she imagined it, the outline of a bulge in the other girl’s shorts, which seemed a little too loose, compared to everyone elses. But as time passed, Natasha knew it wasn’t just her imagination. Whenever she’d stand in front of Wanda, blocking her teammates from passing the ball to her, their bodies sometimes brushing against each-other, she could feel something there too and the thought excited her so much. Professional rivalry was one thing, but who said they couldn’t be something else outside the court?
Such an idea excited the redhead and as the championship approached, she started to go to some of Wanda’s games, waiting for the match to be over, lurking near the back exit, where the players left, so she could see her. She’d congratulate Wanda on a game well played, she’d sometimes tease her for missed opportunities… Then she started to get bolder, inviting Wanda for a game of pool, or ask her to go have coffee somewhere, offering for them to go out for a drink, just so she could spend more time with the girl.
At first, Wanda thought it was a trick, snappy responses leaving her lips easily. She thought it was some kind of mind game Natasha was playing, so she could distract Wanda, get under her skin perhaps. And at first she avoided the redhead, even if she was curious to spend time with her. But as time passed, Wanda decided that two can play such games and eventually she agreed and that night changed everything.
Wanda had a million ideas about how the night will go, but she certainly never expected to like the girl so much. They had so much in common. Both had competitive siblings and parents with high expectations, both felt the pressure of being the best… Both had that yearning for more than life had given them. So they bonded, mutual understanding growing into respect and a spark of desire that was simply undeniable. It didn’t happen in a day, it grew slowly, day after day.
They made it a tradition, having a day out after a game, talking about their teams and their hopes and dreams, growing much closer than they ever intended, their playful banter turning into flirting and teasing touches. When they couldn’t see each-other, they texted, smiling at their phones whenever they saw a new message from the other girl.  The air felt charged whenever they saw each-other and they brought the best out of the other. Whenever Wanda would see Natasha in the crowd of people during a match, she’d always play a little better, pushing herself to show that she’s the best, that she was deserving of the other girl’s attention. Natasha did the same. Her usual confidence was always cranked up to 11 when Wanda was there to see her play. She’d use more tricks than usual, she’d take more risks, in hopes of impressing her. And it worked. In Wanda’s eyes, she was the most spectacular player she’d ever seen.
For some reason they both agreed to keep it secret. Their teams were considered enemies, both fighting to win the same competition and the rest of the players simply wouldn’t understand. Perhaps very few would understand… But then again, perhaps that was just another thing that brought them closer together.
Then the championship came, the two teams won match after match, getting closer to a game when they would have to play against each-other and their fans were going crazy. All kinds of rumours were flying around, people hyping their favorite team, making banners, posting challenges online… It was almost too much. Their teams were getting eager too, their coaches adding more practice sessions in their schedules, all in the name of winning. But through it all, they had each-other, their connection growing stronger.
The night of the big game, Wanda felt restless. Tomorrow their teams would face each-other and she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus her thoughts, or make up her mind. She felt conflicted. She wanted to win, no she needed to win. But she didn’t want to do it by making Natasha and her team look bad. She was afraid that this game would change everything. That if her team won, she’ll never see Natasha again. But if her team lost, because of her… Her chances of a professional career would be over. Her parents would be disappointed, her team and couch would be devastated. Not to mention that she wouldn’t hear the end of it from Pietro. He already had a contract with one of the best teams in the country. If she didn’t do as well… Then what?
With a huff Wanda got out of her bed and dressed in a rush, silently sneaking out of her dorm and walked the familiar path to the gym, easily finding her way to the basketball court, picking up a ball and bouncing it against the floor aimlessly. She felt lost. But before she could let her thoughts spiral once again, her phone buzzed.
She opened her messages suspiciously, wondering who would text her so late, only to see it was from Natasha.
“I can’t sleep.” It read simply and Wanda smiled.
“Neither can I.” She responded. Then, an idea struck and she turned on the camera on her phone, snapping a quick picture of herself on the court.
She sent it quickly, before she had time to lose her nerve and she waited with bated breath for the other girl’s response.
“Stay there!” Is all she received, before Natasha went offline and Wanda smiled, pocketing her phone.
She played mindlessly, mostly trying to score from different positions and angles, practicing her 3-point shot, until the sound of nearby footsteps stopped her in her tracks and she turned to find Natasha behind her.
“Wanna play?” The redhead said simply, hands in her pockets.
“Why not.” Wanda shrugged, passing the ball to Natasha.
The redhead caught it easily, dribbling lazily as she got onto the court.
“Anxious about tomorrow?” She asked, still not really playing. Wanda only nodded. “So am I.” Natasha admitted with a serious expression, her actions pausing for a moment. Their eyes met briefly and the air suddenly felt charged, when Wanda spoke.
“Will you still be my friend?” Wanda asked suddenly. “If we win…” She clarified, her eyes down.
“Aren’t you cocky, Maximoff? What makes you think you’ll win?” Natasha countered playfully, starting up her dribbling again.
“You think you can take me?” Wanda asked, a challenge in her voice. She wasn’t sure she could win, they never actually played one on one before, but she never liked backing down. And besides, this would get her mind off things at least for a bit. “Let’s find out. Play.”
Their words faded after that, all their focus on the ball. They played with the same competitiveness they always brought to their games, each one leaning on her strengths, scoring again and again. In the end they were evenly matched, Natasha leading by just 1 point, when they fell to the floor, utterly exhausted.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Wanda finally said, when she was able to steady her breathing. She was lying on the floor, too tired to even sit. Natasha was the same, panting next to her in the middle of the court.
She regarded the brunette for a long moment, considering the question, memories shared between them flashing before her eyes. Natasha knew what the stakes were. For the both of them. But somewhere along the line, her priorities had shifted, her goals had changed and she knew that she saw so much more than a friend in Wanda’s eyes.
“Do you want to win?” Natasha asked, intentionally ignoring the question Wanda had asked.
“I’ve always wanted to win. Ever since I was a little girl. I’m just not sure that basketball is what I want to win at.” Wanda admitted. “But I don’t know what to do, who to be, if not this…” She continued sullenly.
“You have excellent grades, Wanda. I’m sure you didn’t just pick literature as your major, because you thought it would be easy…” Natasha pointed out. “So I’ll ask again. Do you want to win?”
“Do you?” Wanda countered, unsure how to answer this question.
“You know what I really want?” Natasha asked, straightening a bit and getting closer to the other girl. “I want to finish college, play basketball, I want to have a girlfriend and real friends, who like me for who I am, not my reputation. I wasn’t genuine relationships with real people…” She started, her eyes burning with passion. “At first, when I met you… All I wanted to do was win. Then I wanted to get to know you. And now that I have… Wanda Maximoff, what I want most is you. The more I got to know you, the more I’ve been wanting you. And tonight? It wasn’t thoughts of the game that kept me up. It was you.” She said as she stroked Wanda’s face, which seemed to grow serene at her words. “I don’t care who wins tomorrow… I want you. And I think…” Natasha paused for a moment, gathering her courage. “I think you want me too.” She said finally, forcing herself to look in Wanda’s eyes.
“I really do.” Wanda nodded, her voice wavering from the intensity of it all.
Hearing that was everything Natasha needed, before she leaned down, kissing the girl in front of her. She did it gently at first, just their lips brushing softly, giving Wanda a chance to catch up. Despite her usual confidence, the redhead felt exposed, felt vulnerable after everything she had said and even with Wanda’s confirmation, she still feared the other girl may push her away. But the brunette did no such thing. Her hand only cupped the back of Natasha’s head, pulling her closer, her mouth opening to let Natasha’s tongue inside.
The redhead took the hint, easily sliding on top of the other girl, straddling her things and leaning down to deepen their kiss, smirking when Wanda moaned from underneath her.
“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting to do that.” Wanda said suddenly. And she had. She’d thought about it for months now. Pictured what Natasha would be like, pinned underneath her, legs spread wide, taking all of her deep inside…
“As have I.” Natasha whispered in a sultry tone, grinding her hips against the girl underneath her and pulling her from her thoughts. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.” She confessed, leaning down to steal more kisses from Wanda’s lips.
They kissed like this, right there on the floor, until they were both panting, Natasha’s hips moving involuntarily against the brunette in a delicious rhythm that drove them both wild, feeling Wanda’s member harden underneath her, the outline of it impossible to hide now. She looked huge and so fucking ready and it made Natasha go wild with lust. That’s when the redhead started to sneak her hands underneath Wanda’s clothing, lifting the hem of her shirt, so she could trace her sides and the toned muscles of her stomach and smirking devilishly when the other girl moaned at the feeling.
“We shouldn’t do this here.” Wanda tried to object, even if her voice didn’t hold much resolve. She felt uneasy, being undressed in the middle of the court and she didn’t want anyone to see this moment between them. She wanted the other girl all to herself.
“Lockers?” Natasha suggested, happy to go anywhere as long as Wanda kept touching her like that.
“Showers.” Wanda panted, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist and getting up with her still in her arms, making her squeal in excitement.
She carried the redhead easily through the court and down the hall, into the locker rooms and then the showers, now dark from disuse. Wanda didn’t even need to look to find the light switch, pressing it, before she continued further inside, depositing Natasha on the edge of the row of sinks and settling between her legs.
Her hands explored the other girl’s body slowly, gliding down her shoulders and back as they kissed, pulling her impossibly closer to herself, their chest pressed together. All time had lost meaning to her. There was only this moment. Now. With Natasha in her arms. And it was heavenly.
“Take this off. I want to see you.” Natasha panted between kisses, taking hold of Wanda’s shirt and pulling it over her head, revealing a sports bra underneath.
The action was enough encouragement for the brunette to start undressing the other girl as well, pulling on her clothes and admiring her breasts, hidden in a lacy bra. God, Natasha was so beautiful. She had such delicious curves, it made Wanda’s mouth water.
Following Wanda’s gaze, Natasha only smirked, reaching back and unclasping her bra, dropping it dramatically and leaving her breasts exposed to the girl’s hungry stare.
“You’re so beautiful.” Wanda whispered, once again pulling Natasha in a heated kiss, her hands cupping the redhead’s breasts and massaging them gently. She rolled her nipples next, eliciting low moans from Natasha’s throat, feeling her fingers bury themselves in her hair, guiding her head down.
Wanda took the hint, eagerly leaning down to suck on Natasha’s erect nipples, swirling her tongue over them, one after the other.
“God, I want you.” Natasha gasped, loosing the last of her patience and pushing the brunette backwords.
Using the momentum, Natasha jumped down from her spot, stalking towards Wanda, before she started to pull on the rest of her clothes, removing her bra swiftly, having only a moment to admire the perfect breasts underneath, before reaching down to take off her shorts.
“Natasha, wait!” Wanda grabbed her wrists suddenly. “I have to tell you something…” She panted, her eyes drifting subconsciously to her member.
“Oh, I know!” Natasha smirked. “I felt it. And I think it’s really hot.” She said with a genuine smile on her face, which seemed to reassure Wanda a little. “But we don’t have to do anything…” Natasha continued, her hands running up and down Wanda’s arms reassuringly.
“I just never…” Wanda shook her head. “I mean… Not that way.” She said, unsure how to clarify what she meant.
She’d been with other girls before. Being the star of the basketball team, she never lacked attention. Girls liked to throw themselves at her all the time, but she never actually gathered the courage to fuck them the way she wanted. She didn’t know how to tell them, so she just never did. She never let them pull down her pants, or make her feel good. But she had plenty of practice, using her fingers and her tongue to make girls cum. Truthfully, she didn’t mind it that much. She loved bringing them pleasure, making them cum… She was good at it too and she knew it. But with Natasha. With her, what she used to do simply didn’t feel enough. She wanted to feel Natasha, wanted to experience her. All of her.
“We don’t have to, Wands.” Natasha shook her head, seemingly understanding. “We don’t have to, I promise. But if you want to… I want you to know that you’ll be safe with me.”
“Are you sure?” The brunette whispered shyly.
“Yes, I’m sure. I want to feel you, baby. I want to make you feel so good.” Natasha nodded, her eyes locking with Wanda’s and searching them for any sign of hesitation. “Will you let me make you feel good, honey?” She asked, her eyes attentive.
“Yes.” Wanda whispered eagerly, pulling the other girl in for another heated kiss. “Yes, please.” She gasped, when she felt Natasha’s hot hands on her body again.
“That’s what I like to hear.” Natasha smirked, pulling away just long enough to pull down her sweats and taking her panties with them, dropping the clothing on the floor.
When she was done, she stepped closer to Wanda, giving her a reassuring smile, before she kissed her again, hands gliding over every inch of exposed skin, until she felt the girl relax against her. That’s when she hooked her fingers in Wanda’s shorts, pausing briefly, before she started to pull them down, watching them pool around her ancles and helping the brunette to step out of them.
“You’re gorgeous, Wanda.” Natasha whispered against the girl’s lips. “Will you let me take these off too?” She asked, playing with the waist band of Wanda’s boxers, her hand slipping lower to cup her length.
“Yes. Take it off.” Wanda moaned, head falling back at the way Natasha’s fingers gripped her cock.
Natasha didn’t hesitate for a second, eagerly pulling the last bot of clothing from Wanda’s body, only to reveal her cock. She looked even bigger now, pink and girthy and painfully hard.
“Fuck you’re so big.” Natasha cursed, licking her lips at the sight of it. She doubted she could fit even half of it in her mouth, but she’d be a liar if she said she didn’t want to try.
Before she could make another move though, Wanda pulled her close again, stepping backwards and into the first stall she could find, turning on the water from the shower above as they kissed more.
It didn’t take long for the brunette to find her way down Natasha’s neck, peppering kisses and licking the length of it, before moving down, mouth latching on to one of her breasts again and sucking on the sensitive nipple, while her hands moved even lower, cupping Natasha’s ass and pulling her closer, keeping her waist in a tight hold, while her other hand found its way between Natasha’s legs, fingers running over her folds and feeling the wetness there.
“You’re so wet for me, baby.” Wanda gasped. She’d never felt someone get so wet for her. Natasha was practically dripping.
Before the redhead could respond, she felt Wanda’s fingers probe at her entrance, dragging her slick juices up to her clit and circling it in a slow motion.
“Inside. Wanda, want you inside me now.” Natasha gasped, guiding the other girl’s hand back to her entrance. “Stretch me out for you, baby. Stretch me for that big fucking cock.”
Just the words had Wanda’s cock throbbing and she hurried to do as she was told, her fingers slipping inside Natasha with ease, feeling her walls squeeze them in anticipation. Her lips followed the path of her hands, trailing kisses down Natasha’s belly, before they joined her efforts, eagerly attaching themselves around Natasha’s clit, so her tongue could swerve over it in circles.
“Oh my God!” Natasha gasped, burying her fingers in Wanda’s hair, pulling her closer, hips grinding against her face. “That feels so good.” She managed to say between moans. Her legs were shaking and she had to lean against the tiles just to keep herself upright, refusing to let Wanda go.
She was getting close embarrassingly quickly, but she didn’t care. Wanda’s fingers were curling inside her in just the right way and her tongue was swirling over that spot that made her see stars and it all made her feel so good.
“God, you’re gonna make me cum.” Natasha panted, briefly opening her eyes to see Wanda’s eager ones, staring right back at her.
“Cum for me.” Wanda detached herself just long enough to speak, before she was back at it again.
Natasha felt herself get even closer to the edge, the tidal wave of pleasure rising within her. She was so close. For a brief moment she felt suspended in time, her body riding the edge in the most delicious way possible, before she finally let go, the tidal wave of pleasure finally crashing over her. It felt so good, she could hardly contain the filthy moans that spilled from her lips, her hips grinding against Wanda’s mouth in search of more, wanting to prolong her pleasure, until she had no more left to give.
She sagged against the tiles, a grin forming on her lips as she pulled Wanda up and against herself, trying to catch her breath. She felt kisses on her face and neck, on her shoulders, Wanda’s arms running up and down her body in a soothing manner that made her wish they could have done this in a bed instead.
When she was able to recover, at least slightly, Natasha pulled the other girl for a kiss, tasting herself on her lips and loving it so much. She hadn’t tasted herself before and the filthiness of it excited her even more. But it was Wanda’s hard cock, pressed against her thigh, that finally brought her to reality. She felt so damn hard.
“Oh, honey…” Natasha gasped, hand reaching down to take hold of Wanda’s length, jerking her slowly. “I’ve been neglecting that poor cock…” She said with a trace of fake pity in her voice. “Let me make it up to you.” She suggested, grabbing Wanda and spinning her around, until she landed against the tiles, taking Natasha’s previous spot.
Wanda’s cock throbbed in Natasha’s hand and the girl couldn’t resist any more. She dropped to her knees quickly, her hand still moving up and down in a teasingly slow motion. Damn, that thing looked even bigger up close. But that only made it more enticing for Natasha and she opened her mouth, licking a long line from the base of Wanda’s cock, all the way to her tip. It made the brunette moan so wantonly.
“You make such pretty sounds and I’ve barely touched it.” Natasha said teasingly. “I wonder what you’ll sound like if I do this…” She continued, her eyes glinting with mischief and amusement, when she leaned down again and wrapped her lips around Wanda’s tip, giving it a long, wet kiss.
“Fuck!” Wanda hissed, hands clenching into fists, holding back the urge to grab Natasha by the hair and make her suck it for real.
Natasha did it a few more times, swirling her tongue over Wanda’s cock-head and giving it slow, wet kisses that drove the brunette crazy, before she finally relented, taking more of it in her mouth and sucking lightly, while her hand jerked the rest of it in a steady rhythm.
“Don’t hold back, baby.” Natasha whispered. “Show me what you want.”
And it was all it took, to make Wanda snap, hand flying to Natasha’s hair, holding her in a firm grip as she started to guide her up and down her length. She tried to be gentle with the redhead, pulling back when she felt her tip reaching that soft spot on the back of her throat. Even like this, Natasha’s mouth felt divine. Much better than Wanda’s own hand ever did and she knew she wouldn’t last long.
“Nat… Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” She tried to warn, hands releasing Natasha’s hair, so she could move away, but the girl did no such thing.
“Don’t you dare waste it, baby. I want to taste you.” Natasha said in a low voice, pulling away just long enough to say the words, before her mouth was back on Wanda’s cock, taking it as deep as she could without gaging.
And that’s all it took for Wanda to cum. Curses spilled from her mouth as rope after rope of cum shot from her tip, gathering on Natasha’s awaiting tongue. Nothing had ever felt better than this and Wanda allowed herself to enjoy every second of it, hips stuttering with every new wave of pleasure that she felt.
When she was finally spent, she managed to open her eyes just in time to see Natasha pull away, her lips closing as she swallowed it all down with a grin that made Wanda weak in the knees.
“I can’t believe you just did that.” She panted, her cock starting to harden again at the thought alone.
“What can I say… You taste so damn good.” Natasha smirked and it made Wanda want to wipe that smug smile off her face.
She pulled Natasha in for a kiss then, hands landing on her ass, so she could keep her close, pulling one of the redhead’s hips around her waist and feeling the slick heat of her pussy rub against her cock. Damn, that girl was driving her crazy.
“I want to be inside you.” Wanda whispered between kisses, pausing to look in Natasha’s eyes, making sure that it was ok.
“So take me.” Natasha smiled warmly. “You can do whatever you want to me.” She said, hands gently cupping the other girl’s face.
Their foreheads touched for a moment, eyes closing to savour the intimacy of it. They kissed, lips moving slowly, tongues brushing against each-other in a slow dance as the warm water cascaded down their bodies, until they couldn’t take the anticipation any longer.
Wanda’s hand reached between their bodies then, taking her cock in her hand and giving it a few slow strokes, letting the tip of it rub against Natasha’s wet entrance. She tried to prepare herself for the moment she’d slip inside, but nothing could prepare her for the way Natasha felt around her. She was so warm, her slick walls pulling Wanda in deeper, spasming around her in a way so blissful, she could hardly contain herself.
“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Wanda gasped, trying to steady her breathing.
“And you’re so damn big, baby. Such a big fucking cock.” Natasha rasped, eyes rolling to the back of her head at the feeling of being so full.
Wanda waited a moment, letting the redhead adjust to the feeling of her, before her hips started to move. Gently rocking back and forth at first, holding Natasha soothingly in her embrace. Then her pace started to quicken, the feeling of Natasha’s tight pussy too overwhelming to stop.
She flipped them easily, pressing Natasha’s front to the tiles of the shower stall and positioning herself behind her, strong hands taking hold of Natasha’s hips, her cock entering the redhead once again with a deep thrust that had Natasha moaning in pure extasy.
“Fuck! Just like that!” Natasha panted, her mouth opening in a soundless moan as Wanda started to fuck her with deep, steady thrusts. She could feel Wanda’s cock sheathe itself fully inside her with every thrust of the girl’s hips, making her see stars.
“You feel so good.” Wanda panted behind her, head falling on Nat’s shoulder and giving it a few gentle kisses.  
It took everything in Wanda to keep herself from loosing control. She’d never felt anything like this before, she never even dared to imagine it could ever be this good and even though she had orgasmed just minutes before, she was desperate to cum again. She wanted to fill Natasha up with her cum, claim her as her own for good, she wanted to bury herself inside her and never pull out.
With a steadying breath, Wanda pressed herself even closer to Nat’s back, one hand on the wall to steady her, while the other circled Natasha’s hips and found its way between her legs, fingers probing between her folds and finding her clit, so she could play with it in steady circles.
“God, Wanda!” The redhead panted, pressing herself into Wanda’s warm body. She was getting close and she wanted to come surrounded by Wanda in every way. “Fuck, I’m close. Don’t stop, please.” She almost mewled, desperate to reach her high.
“I’ve got you, Nat.” The brunette whispered softly. “I’ve got you and I won’t let you go.” She promised. “Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good I’m making you feel.” She encouraged, even if she was dangerously close to letting go herself.
With a cry and a harsh thrust from Wanda’s hips, Natasha came, hands flying to keep the brunette from moving, wanting to feel every inch of her cock buried deep inside her as she felt the best orgasm of her life. Her walls spasming around Wanda’s cock as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. She could feel the pleasure of it spread over her entire body, making her feel almost weightless and she braced herself on the wall.
When she was done, she almost whined at the feeling of Wanda pulling out and she guided the girl closer to herself again, placing her cock between her thighs, letting her length rub against her sensitive pussy, as she started to move back and forth.
“Nat! Baby, I’m gonna cum!” Wanda warned, both her hands now braced on the tiles, while Natasha milked her cock between her thighs.
“Go ahead.” Natasha panted, movements speeding up.
In just a few seconds Wanda let go, spurts of white shooting out of her cock and smearing over Natasha’s thighs and between her legs, painting her skin in sticky cum.
When it was over, they both chuckled, looking at each-other with excitement and tender love. They embraced gently, letting the warm water wash their bodies as the stood there in peaceful bliss.
“I don’t care about what happens tomorrow.” Natasha finally spoke. “I only care about you.”
“You know… I don’t even know why I play anymore… I guess it’s just what people expect of me…” Wanda admitted. “My parents, my brother, my coach, my team… That’s what they all want from me.”
“I fucking hate your team.” Natasha said, pulling Wanda even closer. “But I love you, Wands. So, whatever happens, I want you to know that you have me. And I support you, ok? If you want to play, I’ll practice with you every day. And if you want to quit and do something with that literature major then, I’ll be there too. You have me. Some stupid game is never gonna change that.”
“You love me?” Wanda asked, pulling her head away from Natasha’s chest, so she could look at her.
“That’s what you took from that whole speech?” Natasha pushed Wanda playfully, only to have the brunette snuggle back into her.
“I love you too.” Wanda said, as she nestled her head in the crook of Natasha’s neck, knowing that whatever happened tomorrow, everything was going to be all right.
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quinzzelx · 7 months ago
Text
Shadows and Starlight
Azriel x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Mor return from a long mission on the Continent. Nine Months have passed since your departure and you couldn't wait to reunite with your best friend, a best friend you'd had a crush on for centuries. Only that Azriel wasn't there when you returned home. He would only return on Starfall.
Part 02
Word count: 4.5K
Warnings: A little spice at the end there. But honestly just a little! Otherwise Fluff, Reader being part of the IC!! I have not proof-read it yet.
A/N: Well, hello there! I have never posted writing for this Fandom before, so I truly hope it is enjoyable and finds it's people. Overall, I haven't really been posting on this blog in ages and felt inspired. I would love to write a second part if this is received well. This isn't proofread yet, I will do that eventually, so I apologize for possible errors. Please let me know what you think and feel free to drop into my inbox.
☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆~●~☆
The night was cool and crisp as you and Mor made your way through the streets of Velaris, the city lights casting a warm glow over the cobblestone streets. Returning to Velaris had been a relief, the mission Rhys had sent you on should have taken no longer than six weeks, lastly spanning nine months that felt like an eternity. What should have been a rather quick trip to the Continent turned out to be far more complicated than anticipated. You were supposed to look into the whereabouts of a magical artifact while Mor should keep up her work as emissary. What you did not take into account whatsoever was the uprising conflict between two of their biggest noble houses, which complicated things. Trust was not easy to come by. Diplomats and Mediators by day and treasure hunters by night. Of course, you also had plenty of time to bask in the sunlight, smothering heat seeping into the marrow of your bones. Even with Mor by your side, there had been moments of homesickness that gnawed at your heart, a longing for the familiar comforts of home that seemed to grow with each passing day.
But now, as you made your way through the streets of Velaris, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The city was alive with the buzz of activity, its streets bustling with life and energy. Even the stars seemed to shine and twinkle brighter than usually, welcoming you back. It was good to be home. As you stepped into the grand foyer of the House of Wind, you felt a rush of nostalgia wash over you. Albite nine months were nothing for Fae, you had missed this. The scent of fresh bread filled the air, no doubt made by Elain. A soft smile tugged at the corner of your lips at the familiarity, your shoulders relaxing slightly.
Mor wasted no time in making herself comfortable, stomping off to the sitting room and throwing herself onto the chaise with a dramatic sigh. You couldn't help but chuckle at her antics. As she settled into the plush pillows, you perched yourself on the edge of the nearby armchair, your gaze drifting to the flickering flames in the hearth. The crackling fire cast dancing shadows across the room, its warmth a comforting embrace after the long journey home. "So, what is on your mind?" Mor's voice broke through the silence, her eyes fluttering open as she regarded you with a curious expression. You let out a soft sigh, your thoughts drifting back to the tribulations of your time overseas. "It was... intense," you replied, voice tinged with a hint of weariness. "So much happened.” You groaned then. “Cauldron boil me, I really don’t want to fill out that mission report…” Mor nodded in understanding, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine, me neither" she said, her tone filled with empathy. "But Rhys will not push us. He probably missed us as much as we missed him. It’s been a while after all.”
You smiled gratefully at her words, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yeah, you're right," you agreed, your spirits lifting at the thought of being back in Velaris once more. Back home. You fell into a comfortable silence then, the crackling fire the only sound echoing in the room. But beneath the surface, you felt a restlessness stirring within yourself—a longing to see him, to feel the familiar comfort of his presence. Obviously you missed the entirety of your family wholly. Definitely not thinking about one person more than the others. At least that is what you told yourself.
"I'm going to check on Az," you said suddenly, your voice breaking the silence. "I haven't seen him in a while…" Mor raised an eyebrow inquisitively, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Really now? Here I thought we saw none of them in a while." she teased, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Missing someone, are we?" You felt a blush creeping into your cheeks at Mor's teasing tone, but you brushed it off with a playful roll of your eyes. "Don't be ridiculous," you retorted, though the fluttering in your chest betrayed your true feelings. With a playful wink, Mor waved you off, her attention already drifting back to the warmth of the fire. "Go on then," she said, her voice soft but encouraging. "I'll be here when you get back." And with that, you rose from your seat and made your way to Azriel's room, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing him again after so long. With a sense of anticipation bubbling in your chest, you picked up your pace subconsciously, your steps quick and eager. You had grown so close over the years, so comfortable in each other's company, that knocking on doors had become a formality you rarely bothered with anymore- and even if you usually still found yourself knocking from time to time, you just were too excited.
But as you pushed open the door to Azriel's room, your heart sank at the sight of the empty space before you. The room was quiet and still, save for the faint scent of cedar that lingered in the air—a stark reminder of the Male you had missed so much. Disappointment tugged at your heart as you surveyed the deserted room, your lips curling into a soft frown. It was Starfall in just a few days, you really thought, hoped, he’d be here when you returned. Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, a familiar voice broke through the silence, startling you. "So, Y/N, are you finally going to confess your undying love for my brother?" he quipped, his tone laced with amusement. You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at the corners of your lips now as you threw yourself into Cassian's awaiting arms. You had missed him, missed all of them, but the absence of Azriel weighed heavily on your heart somehow. After you pull away from your embrace, Cassian offers you a kind smile, his eyes warm with understanding.
"Hey, just so you know, Az has been on a mission for the past few days," The tall Illyrian says gently, his tone filled with reassurance. "But he should be back before Starfall." You feel a surge of relief at the news, your heart fluttering with anticipation at the thought of seeing Azriel again. You waited nine months, you could wait a few more days. "Thank you, Cass," you says sincerely, gratitude shining in your eyes. Then the tall male shifts on his foot, raising an eyebrow in mock offense, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Hey now, Y/N, I hope you're not just excited to see Az," he says with a dramatic sigh, placing a hand over his heart in mock hurt. "I mean, I know I'm not as brooding and mysterious as our Shadowsinger, but a little appreciation for your favorite warrior wouldn't hurt." You roll your eyes again with a grin, shaking your head at Cassian's antics. "Oh, please, Cass. You know you're my second favorite warrior," you quip, your tone teasing as you give him a playful shove. You share a moment of laughter before Cassian's expression turns more serious, his gaze softening as he looks at you with genuine concern. "How was the mission? Everything okay?"
Nodding, your smile faltering slightly as you recall the challenges you faced overseas. "It was... intense, to say the least. But we made it back in one piece, thanks to Mor and her quick thinking."
Cassian nods in understanding, his expression reflecting his relief. "Well, I'm glad you're both safe. We'll have to celebrate your return properly, once you've had a chance to rest." Humming you find yourself relaxing into the familiar warmth of his company. You nod in agreement then. “Yeah, Rhys always has something up his sleeve for Starfall,” you say, voice tinged with anticipation. “I can only imagine what he has planned for this year.” Both of you fall into comfortable silence for a moment. Only when a yawn claws itself up your throat and past your lips does Cassian speak again. “Does Rhys know you’re back?” His gaze is gentle in the way he looks at you, it was easy to tell that the oaf missed you just as much.
Stretching your tired muscles slightly, you nod hastily. "Yeah, you should have seen his face when he came barging into the kitchen and saw us drink tea with Feyre." A soft chuckle leaves him then, and you share a knowing grin as you both recall similar situations.
Making your way down the hall, you find Mor fast asleep on the chaise lounge in the sitting room, her features relaxed in slumber. Cassian retrieves a soft blanket from the nearby cupboard and gently drapes it over Mor's sleeping form, his movements gentle and caring.
You settle into the chairs nearby, he joins you, and the two of you engage in light conversation, catching up on the latest developments with Nesta and the Valkyrie. You share stories and anecdotes, laughter punctuating the quiet of the night as you relish in each other's company. Eventually, exhaustion catches up with you, and you bid Cassian goodnight before retreating to your own chambers for some much-needed rest.
As you settle into bed, your mind can't help but wander towards Azriel. Despite the exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, thoughts of him linger at the forefront of your mind, like whispers in the darkness. You can't help but wonder how he's been faring on his mission, what trials and tribulations he's faced in your absence. A pang of guilt tugs at your heart as you realize that you hadn't even sent word of your return, leaving him in the dark about your whereabouts. Closing your eyes, you try to push aside the worry and uncertainty that gnaws at your thoughts, focusing instead on the memory of his warm smile and steady presence. You find solace in the thought of seeing him again, of being reunited with the friend who has always been a steady anchor in your life. With a soft sigh, you let the rhythmic sound of your breathing lull you into a state of calm, allowing yourself to drift into a restless sleep filled with dreams of starlit skies and whispered promises. And as sleep claims you, you hold onto the hope that tomorrow will bring with it the long-awaited reunion you've been yearning for.
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The next days pass in a blur, the absence of Azriel weighing heavily on your heart despite the moments of joy spent with your family. You find solace in the familiar routines of daily life, in the laughter and chatter of your loved ones gathered together in the warmth of the House of Wind.
Mornings are filled with shared meals and lively conversation, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingling with the aroma of freshly baked pastries. On the day before Starfall you find yourself amidst the hustle and bustle of daily life in Velaris, as you join Feyre, Mor, and Nesta for a day of dress shopping. The air is filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers and the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked goods, adding to the festive atmosphere of the day.
As you weave through the throngs of people, your eyes alight on a quaint boutique you’re all too familiar with, nestled between two bustling shops. Its windows are adorned with elegant gowns in every shade of the rainbow, their silken fabrics shimmering in the sunlight.
With a shared glance and a knowing smile, you make your way inside, greeted by the tinkling of bells and the warm smile of the shopkeeper. The interior of the boutique is a veritable treasure trove of fashion, with racks of dresses in every style and design imaginable. As you browse through the racks, your eyes are drawn to a stunning gown in a shade of deep midnight blue, its bodice adorned with delicate lace and sparkling sequins. It catches the light in such a way that it seems to shimmer and dance with every movement, and you can't help but feel drawn to it.
Feyre picks up a flowing gown in a shade of pale lavender, holding it up against herself with a thoughtful expression. "What do you think?" she asks, turning to you and the others for their opinion. Mor nods approvingly, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "It's lovely, Feyre. You would look stunning in that." Nesta, ever the pragmatist, arches an eyebrow skeptically. "It's a bit too... ethereal for my taste," she remarks dryly. "But if it makes you happy, then go for it." You can't help but chuckle at Nesta's blunt honesty, knowing that she speaks from a place of genuine concern for her sister's happiness. "I think it's beautiful, Feyre," you offer, a warm smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "But ultimately, it's up to you." Feyre returns your smile gratefully, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N," she says softly, her voice filled with warmth. "I think I'll give it a try." As Feyre disappears into the dressing room to try on the gown, Mor turns to you with a glint in her eyes. "So, Y/N, have you found anything that catches your eye?" she asks, her tone teasing.
You shrug nonchalantly, though your heart races at the thought of the dress you had spotted earlier. "Maybe," you reply coyly, a playful smile playing at your lips. "There was one that caught my attention." Nesta raises an eyebrow curiously, her gaze sharpening with interest. "Oh? And what does it look like?" she inquires, her tone betraying her curiosity.
You hesitate for a moment, your cheeks flushing slightly as you recall the details of the dress. "It's... um, it's a deep midnight blue," you begin, your voice trailing off as you struggle to find the right words to describe it.
Mor's eyes light up with mischief as she interrupts, a knowing smirk on her lips. "Sounds like something a certain Shadowsinger would most definitely like," she quips, her voice filled with amusement. You feel your cheeks grow even warmer at Mor's teasing remark, knowing that there is some truth to her words. "Maybe," you mumble, unable to hide the smile that tugs at the corners of your lips.
Before the conversation can continue further, Feyre emerges from the dressing room, the lavender gown flowing around her in a cascade of ethereal beauty. You gasp in awe at the sight of her, your heart swelling with pride and admiration.
"Feyre, you look incredible," you exclaim, your voice filled with genuine awe. "That dress was made for you." Feyre blushes at the compliment, her smile radiant as she twirls in front of the mirror. "Thank you, Y/N" she says warmly, her eyes shining with happiness. "I think I've found my dress."  As Feyre twirls in front of the mirror, her radiant smile lighting up the room, Mor and Nesta exchange knowing glances before turning their attention to you.
"Well, Y/N, it's your turn now," Mor says with a playful grin, her eyes sparkling again. "You can't just talk about that mysterious midnight blue dress and not show it to us."
Nesta nods in agreement, her expression curious. "Yes, I'm quite intrigued to see this dress that has caught your eye," she adds, a hint of amusement in her voice. With a nod of determination, you make your way to the dressing room, the anticipation building with each step.
As you slip into the dress, you can't help but marvel at how perfectly it fits, clinging to your curves in all the right places. The fabric is soft against your skin, the deep midnight blue hue shimmering in the light, casting an enchanting glow around you. The bodice of the dress is adorned with delicate lace, the intricate patterns weaving a spellbinding tapestry across your skin. The neckline plunges low, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of skin, while the back dips into a daring V, leaving just enough to the imagination. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the reactions of your companions, before stepping out of the dressing room to reveal yourself to them.
Feyre gasps in awe as she lays eyes on you, her expression filled with admiration. "Wow, Y/N, you look absolutely stunning," she exclaims, her voice filled with genuine wonder.
Mor and Nesta nod in agreement, their eyes wide with astonishment. "That dress was made for you," Mor adds. As you gaze at your reflection in the mirror, a surge of confidence courses through you. It's been so long since you've worn anything other than fighting leathers, and the sensation of silk against your skin is a welcome change. You feel sexy, beautiful, and alive in a way that you haven't in months, the weight of responsibility and duty momentarily lifted from your shoulders. For the first time in what feels like forever, you allow yourself to revel in the simple pleasure of feeling feminine and desirable.
But amidst the rush of excitement and adrenaline, there's a nagging voice in the back of your mind, whispering of doubts and insecurities. What will Azriel think when he sees you like this? Will he be pleased, impressed, or will he merely see you as the same old friend he's always known? You bite your bottom lip nervously at the thought, a flush rising to your cheeks as you imagine his reaction. But deep down, beneath the layers of uncertainty and self-doubt, there's a spark of hope flickering within you, a glimmer of possibility that maybe, just maybe, he'll see you in a new light. That maybe the feelings you had harbored for him for the past two centuries weren’t one-sided.
With a determined shake of your head, you banish the doubts from your mind, focusing instead on the here and now. Tonight, you'll revel in the joy of the moment, surrounded by friends who love and support you unconditionally. And tomorrow, well, tomorrow is another day. "I must say, I almost forgot you had it in you to clean up so nicely."
You roll your eyes playfully at Mor's teasing remark, unable to suppress a laugh at her antics. "Oh, please, Mor," you quip, your tone laced with mock indignation. "You act as if I've been wearing armor for the past century." Feyre chuckles, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Well, you certainly seem to be enjoying yourself in that dress," she remarks with a knowing smile.
Nesta, ever the pragmatist, raises an eyebrow skeptically. "Yes, but can you actually afford it?" she asks dryly, her tone tinged with amusement. You feign offense at Nesta's remark "Of course I can afford it, Nesta," you reply with a playful smirk. "I'll just put it on Rhysand's tab."
The group erupts into laughter at your comment. With a final twirl in front of the mirror, you turn to the shopkeeper with a grin. "I'll take it," you declare confidently, a sense of satisfaction washing over you as you make your purchase. "And put it on Rhysand's tab, of course."
The shopkeeper chuckles at your remark, nodding in agreement as she wraps the dress in delicate tissue paper. "Very well, Miss Y/N" she says with a smile. "I'll be sure to send the bill to the High Lord's estate."
With your new dress in hand and your spirits lifted, you bid farewell to the boutique and make your way back into the bustling streets of Velaris.
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Azriel strolls through the lush gardens of Tarquin's estate, the relentless heat of the Summer Court bearing down on him with an intensity that he finds almost suffocating. Sweat beads on his brow, trickling down his temples as he walks, and he can't help but curse the relentless sun that beats down from above, as if intent on draining him of every last ounce of energy.
He sighs heavily as he reflects on his current predicament, his thoughts drifting to the far-off lands of his homeland where snow, cold, and winter reign supreme. The sweltering heat of the Summer Court is a stark contrast to the familiar chill of the Night Court, and Azriel can't help but wonder if it's possible that he's somehow managed to burn his wings in the sun. But such thoughts are quickly pushed aside as he reminds himself of the task at hand. Everything had gone well with his meeting with Tarquin, and now he simply longs to retire to his chambers and escape the oppressive heat for a few precious hours of rest.
As he continues on his way, Azriel can't help but think about the upcoming Starfall celebration. Tomorrow would mark the end of his short mission in the Summer Court, and he couldn't wait to return home to Velaris. The thought of spending Starfall without Y/N weighs heavily on his mind, and he can't help but feel a pang of longing in his chest at the prospect. Suddenly, a voice breaks through his thoughts, a familiar presence intruding upon his mind with the ease of a whisper on the wind. It's Rhys, reaching out to him.
"Enjoying the summer heat, brother?" Rhys's voice echoes in his mind, a hint of amusement lacing his words. "Remember, not all of us are fortunate enough to have wings to shield us from the sun's rays."
Azriel can't help but snort at Rhys's teasing, the sound reverberating silently within his own mind. "I'd take a blizzard over this heat any day," he replies, his tone dry with sarcasm. "At least in the Winter Court, I wouldn't feel like I'm about to melt into a puddle."
Rhys's laughter fills his mind. "Ah, but where's the fun in that?" he quips "Besides, think of it as a challenge. A test of endurance, if you will."
Azriel shakes his head incredulously at his brother's words, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite himself. "You would find amusement in my suffering, wouldn't you?" he retorts. But Rhys's next words carry a weight of sincerity that catches Azriel off guard. "In all seriousness, Az, you'll be home before you know it," He assures him, his voice filled with warmth and encouragement. "Starfall is just around the corner, and there are loved ones eagerly awaiting your return."
There's a cryptic hint in Rhys's words, a subtle suggestion that Azriel can't quite decipher. He furrows his brows in confusion, his mind racing as he tries to make sense of his brother's words. After all, he's only been gone for a week.  Rhys's voice fades from Azriel's mind, leaving him with a sense of calm and reassurance. "Until tomorrow, brother," he murmurs silently.
Azriel retreats for the night, the weight of exhaustion heavy on his shoulders. As he settles into his chambers, a sense of relief washes over him at the thought of returning home tomorrow.
His mind wanders to how he'll spend his first day back in Velaris, imagining the familiar streets and faces that he's missed so dearly the past week. But amidst the anticipation, there's a nagging sense of longing that tugs at his heart. Clasping his scarred hands together, Azriel reaches into the pocket of his bag and pulls out a crumpled piece of parchment. It's a letter from Y/N, the only way they've been able to stay in contact while she's been away on her mission.
He doesn't know why he took the letter with him, but holding it in his hands brings a sense of serenity and comfort. Even though their last exchanged letters had been about a month ago, knowing that Y/N is safe and well brings him a measure of peace.
With a sigh, Azriel unfolds the parchment and reads over her words once more, the familiar handwriting bringing a smile to his lips. He makes a silent promise to himself to write to her as soon as he gets home. But now, as he prepares to return home for the celebration, he can't help but feel a pang of sadness at the thought of Y/N missing out. He wonders what she might be doing on Starfall, if she's found a way to make the most of the day despite being apart from their shared family.
Azriel knew how she hadn’t missed a single Starfall since… The heavy feeling of subdued rage settles in the pits of his stomach at the thought of what she endured during those dark years under the Mountain. He wishes he could have been there to protect her, to shield her from the horrors of their captivity.
His thoughts drift to a darker memory then, one that haunts him even now. He remembers her broken body, her spirit shattered and her light dimmed, when she and Rhys returned after Feyre broke the curse. The sight of her lying there, broken and bruised, fills him with a sense of sorrow and rage unlike anything he's ever known. He can still feel the weight of her pain, the echoes of her suffering lingering in the recesses of his mind. In that moment, all he wanted was to take her pain away, to hold her close and mend her broken spirit.  Azriel thinks of the first Starfall after they returned from under the mountain, how Y/N had opened up about her grief and trauma for the first time. He can still see the sadness in her eyes, the weight of her pain etched into every line of her face. It was a stark contrast to the joyous celebration unfolding around them, a reminder of the darkness that still lingered. From that day forward, Y/N never missed a single Starfall celebration.
As Azriel drifts off to sleep, frustration gnaws at his insides like a relentless beast. Despite his best efforts to push Y/N from his mind, she lingers there like a haunting specter, her presence weaving through his thoughts and dreams with an undeniable persistence. Rubbing his hand over his face in a futile attempt to banish the memories, Azriel can't help but feel a sense of shame at the intensity of his longing for her. He prides himself on his control, on his ability to keep his emotions in check, but she has a way of unraveling him like no one else.
And then there are the dreams - vivid and all-consuming, they play out like scenes from a forbidden fantasy, leaving Azriel feeling both exhilarated and guilty in their wake. They were friends. Just friends. Best friends, actually. And even though this urge was nothing completely unfamiliar, these thoughts had overtaken him completely as soon as she left.
Again his mind wandered. Asking himself how her lips would feel clashing against his, how she would wrap her arms around his neck, having to crane her neck for a kiss due to their height difference. What she would taste like, what sounds he could coax out of her. How those exact plush lips would feel wrapped around his cock.- A growl leaves him through clenched teeth. His eyebrows pinched as he squeezes his eyes shut, palming himself through his briefs. Confusion etched on his beautiful face then, because he just could not understand. She was his best friend, so why could he not stop thinking about her like this? Thus, so very determined, he decided that this had to change, while simultaneously fisting his heavy cock in one of his hands. "Fuck"
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I hope you enjoyed this little piece of my imagination. Feedback is always welcome and appreciated! Please let me know if you'd like a part 2 :)
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