#so this was a CHALLENGE. that being said. i love her and she’s been so fun to draw

[helenanell]

A Breath of Life || Challengers

Pairing(s) : Reader x Patrick – Reader x Art – Reader x Tashi (sort of.) 

CW: MDNI - 18+ : smut, rough / manhandling. Infidelity. Angst. A lot of yearning. (They all want each other, badly.) Manipulative behaviour. Minor spoilers for the film.

Notes: Female Reader (AFAB Reader) - Absolutely no use of y/n, (because I despise it, sorry)

Wordcount: 9.7K

Summary: You met Tashi in your final year of high school and were more than happy to have lost a tennis match against her. Afterwards, the two of you become inseparable and you find yourself feeling for her in a way that you don’t quite understand.And then things get even more complicated when Patrick and Art burst into your lives. As the years pass, desire, love and hatred all get tangled together...and so do the four of you.

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The idea of meeting Tashi Duncan had been much more intimidating than the actual event itself. It was an odd thing, to idolise someone who was the exact same age as you—a girl not yet out of high school and still so chronically unsure of herself and the world—but it was impossible not to. 

You had watched every single match of hers that you could, staring for so long at the way she moved, that you were left with the afterimage of her burned into your eyes: She was in your thoughts constantly and always waiting behind your eyes when you closed them hoping for sleep. 

You were brilliant at tennis, you knew that you were. But Tashi played like it was the only way she could take oxygen into her lungs; each serve and shot an inhalation and exhalation. You understood, because you felt something similar.

For a long time, you had been ignored or dismissed in every aspect of your life, by everyone. But then you had found tennis, and you were really fucking great at it. 

 Tennis saved your life by making you undeniably tangible. Your existence could not be disputed when someone had to react to your movements, to receive something you had offered. 

It was no wonder then, that for as long a match lasted you were unhealthily obsessed with whoever it was that you were playing against. They made you real. 

But then you played Tashi. You had lost, of course, but it had been a close match, neither of you dominating for long before the other gained the upper hand once more. The gasps from the crowd had been the swelling of some great tide, breaking against your flesh and reinvigorating you like freezing water. 

Once it was over, you felt bereft of something vital. You felt as though you had slipped back into non-existence, only this time it was worse than ever, because your connection to Tashi Duncan was gone. 

But your body remembered. It ached and throbbed, rebelling at all you had put it through- no. All Tashi had put it through. You were desperate to feel it again. 

And your prayer was answered. 

She appeared before you like an angel.

Tashi jogged over to you as you gathered your things after the match, flushed and with beads of sweat glistening on her skin like crystals. And her eyes…they had been wide and dark and enrapturing. And then she had said the words that would change the trajectory of your life: 

“So, when can I play you again?”

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Ruah is the Hebrew word that means God’s spirit, but it is also breath or air and is widely understood to be God’s presence in the world. 

You couldn’t remember when you had learnt the word, but you knew that in the Bible, God had created Adam by breathing life into him. Which was why, when anyone joked about Tashi Duncan being some kind of deity, you could not dispute it, because that is what she had done to you. 

Tashi had breathed life into you.

 Her presence in your life has allowed you to come alive even off the court: you finally felt like a real person. Thanks to her, you knew that when you put your racket down, you did not simply disappear. 

Tashi saw you, on and off the court, and you loved her for it.

But, by the time you were both accepted into Stanford, over a year after you’d first met, you still wouldn’t let yourself delve into that love, and work out the ways in which you felt it. Not only because, you’d only ever been drawn to guys in any romantic or sexual way, but also because you felt undeserving of her.

 How pathetic would it be for you, who crawled at your best friend’s feet, to look up and whimper out words of desire to her?

 You were blessed to have her in your life, let alone to be as close with her as you were. Love was so many disparate things; you could love her as a friend, and hold that carnal aspect deep down. Just having her in your life was more than enough. She was enough.

Or so you thought. 

At the party celebrating Tashi, the two of you had not yet left each other’s side. You were dancing together, close enough that you could feel the ecstasy of victory buzzing beneath her skin as she held your hands and pulled you close. Her hair was silken and flowing down her back and as you were tangled up with her, it tickled against your own exposed skin. 

“They’re still staring.” You whisper into her ear, laughing as she answers by twirling you around and then pulling you back in. 

You practically fall into one another, having to steady yourself by placing your hands on her hips, the beaded fabric of her dark blue dress digging into the palms of your hands. 

“Good.” Tashi answers, wrapping her arms around your shoulders.

She turns you enough that with your chin resting on her shoulder, you are looking right at the two boys who had been gawking all night. One dark haired with confidence coming off him in waves, the other more reserved, a different kind of potency bubbling beneath the surface.

The blonde’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head, offering a delicate but untethering smile. 

“You’re going to have to talk to them.” You offer, still held in Tashi’s arms. “Otherwise they’re going to follow you around like lost puppies all night.”

You gasp and squirm away as your friend playfully pinches your side.

 “Do you really think they’re just looking at me?” Tashi questions incredulously.

You laugh at her shock. “Of course they are.” You say, gesturing up and down her form as she continues to sway to the music. 

“Oh my God!” Tashi exclaims, grabbing your hand and pulling you close again. “You’re such a fucking idiot! They’re looking at you, too!” 

You roll your eyes, but can’t help feeling a little buoyed at the prospect of being desired. “Yeah, right.”

Tashi shakes her head. “It’s a good thing you’re so oblivious, I like having you all to myself!”

Heat floods every part of you, acutely aware of the sweat trickling down the back of your neck, your skin uncomfortably warm. 

Only when the two of you have stopped dancing do they come over. 

Art Donaldson and Patrick Zweig saunter needfully into your life and had you known then all that would ensue, you still would have welcomed their approach. 

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

The four of you had wandered down to the beach. 

Art and Patrick were sitting on deck chairs that sat side by side, their legs stretched out and their gazes lustful, both of them looking at Tashi who was perched on a rock opposite them. In that moment, the moon seemed made only for her, the silver light lining her form. 

You sit on the sand near her, your legs pulled up to your chest. The waves softly hit the beach behind you, lulling you into an even more incorporeal mindset. All that exists to you, is Tashi and the two boys who so clearly want her. 

Despite how desperately you want to engage in their conversation, you’re exhausted and distracted by the knowledge that your parents will already be looking for you. 

You’ve rested your chin on your knees, your eyes drooping shut, when a voice calls out to you. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

 Art is crouching beside you, his hand on your back, his knees sinking into the sand, shifting the surface beneath you. You jolt at the contact, scrambling to your feet as Tashi chuckles.

 Patrick’s gaze flits between you and Art and then over to your best friend, his cheeks dimpled with a smirk. 

“I’m fine.” You reassure with a shaky smile, brushing sand off the back of your dress. “I should go though, my parents will be waiting.” 

“You can’t leave!” Patrick protests playfully, placing a hand to his chest. “You’ll break my heart.”

You grin, spurred on by his own smile and shrug. “And why should I care about that?”

Patrick’s mouth drops open in feigned hurt as Art chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets and stepping away from you. 

You turn to Tashi, meaning to say goodbye, but she’s already up and hugging you. She often kisses your cheek as a form of goodbye, but this time she gets so close that her lips tease the corner of your mouth as hers make contact. You are electrified by it.

You know that she isn’t doing it for you, which is confirmed when she pulls away with her eyes flitting giddily between Art and Patrick who have both gone utterly still as they watched the display. 

 Despite the jealous ache that blooms, you play into it, because another part of you is excited at the thought of working the two boys up. You pull Tashi back into a hug, your hands resting dangerously low on her back as you squeeze her. She giggles into your ear. 

“You already have them wrapped around your little finger.” You say it quietly, but loud enough that you know the boys will hear. 

Over Tashi’s shoulder, you see Patrick smirk again and Art runs his thumb over his his bottom lip with a small smile on his face.

When you do finally pull away, Tashi smacks you on the ass. 

“It was great to meet to you!” Art shouts after you. 

“I miss you already!” Is Patrick’s shouted offering.

You just shake your head and continue on your path away from the beach.

Unbeknownst to you, three sets of eyes follow you until you’ve disappeared from view.

When you get home, you still feel the touch of Tashi all over you. But when your hand dips under the covers, something has changed. Because when you close your eyes, it’s not just Tashi you see. Instead, multiple people are fighting for dominance in your midnight fantasy:

You see Patrick’s licentious smirk.

You see Art’s coy smile. 

They’ve both invaded your mind, corrupted your thoughts that for a year had been so gloriously void of anything but Tashi.

And from that moment, you know part of you will always hate them. For so long, even knowing you can’t have her, all you’ve needed to sate yourself are thoughts of Tashi. But they’ve changed that.

You hate Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson because they’ve made you want more. You want….one of them. You don't know why and you also don’t know which one of them it is. 

But what is clear to you, is that a new itch has arisen within you, and it comes with panic, because unlike with Tashi, you’re certain there’s a possibility that one of them might actually want to scratch the itch for you.

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Had he known how furious you were going to be with him when you arrived, you doubted Art would have been so eager to invite you to have lunch with him in the cafeteria. 

Even when you slam your tray down and drop into the seat opposite him, he still looks happy to see you. He always did. It was infuriating.

“What are you playing at, Art?” You struggle to keep your volume down. You hadn’t wanted to yell at someone in a long time, but he had managed it.

Concern flashes in his eyes, but his lips press together in a way that tells you he knows exactly what you’re referring to. And yet he still asks:

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re fucking with Tashi’s head.”

“I would never do that.”

You scoff, stabbing the flimsy plastic fork into your salad. “Except you are, and I know that you’re doing it on purpose.”

Art pushes his own tray to the side and settles his elbow onto the table, resting his chin on his hand. “Yeah, how’d you figure?”

“Why else would you tell her that Patrick doesn’t love her?”

“Because I don’t think he does. Do you?”

You ignore his question, instead opting to pick up your apple and throw it at his head, hard. He catches it, that damnable little smile still on his face. 

“For fuck sake, Art!” You erupt. “She needs to keep her head on straight. Don’t upset her just because you want her for yourself!”

He tilts his head, blue eyes sparkling as he takes a large bite out of the apple. He chews for a bit before holding it back out to you, speaking through a mouthful:

 “You should have the rest of this, you haven’t been eating enough.”

“Fuck you!” You snatch it from his hand and shift in your seat, easily throwing it and landing it right in a nearby trashcan.

“Well that was a waste of perfectly good fruit.” Art licks some residue off his thumb and then leans across the table. 

You fail to snatch your wrist away before he grabs it. He’s gentle but firm, and as his thumb rubs along your pulse point, you feel the residual moisture from his own mouth he’d left behind, transferring to your skin.

“You don’t have to fight this hard to protect her,” Art presses. “She’s a grown woman.”

“She’s my best friend and I don’t want you to hurt her.” 

Art’s thumb stills, but he tugs your wrist a little closer. “Do you really think I could?” 

You scowl, pulling free of his hold. “You know, the way you and Patrick worship her isn’t the compliment that you both seem to think it is. You’re putting her up on a pedestal, practically deifying her, but she’s not invulnerable. She feels more strongly than anyone I’ve ever known and tennis is her life. If you get in her head and fuck up her game, It will break her and then I will break your fucking hands.”

This time when he’s smiles, it’s rife with fondness for you and it makes you want to punch him for the fluttering it causes in your stomach.

“You didn’t answer my question.” He says simply.

“What?”

“Do you think Patrick loves her?” Art repeats patiently. 

“Do you love her, Art?” 

“Can you please just answer my question?”

“I don’t know!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not even sure I would know love if I saw it. All I do know, is that you both lust after her and definitely for each other too, even if you’ll never admit it. You’re all totally fucked.”

Art’s jaw clenches, the muscles ticking, but instead of irritation or anger at your outburst, his gaze softens. When he speaks, it is soft and achingly tender:

“You do know love. Because you love Tashi.” 

You let out an embittered laugh. “Of course I do. I tell her all the time.”

“But she doesn’t love you, not in the same way.”

You really didn’t know if he intended for that to sting, especially not with how gently he’d said it, but if he had, he’d failed. You came to accept that fact a long while ago, and while you would always want Tashi in some respect, it was not the all consuming desire it had been. The lust was gone. She was important to you. She was your best friend and you wanted to protect her. 

Unfortunately, the two men you wanted to protect her from, were the ones who had usurped her as objects of desire in your mind.

“Are you trying to find yourself a catchphrase before you go pro?” You sneer at Art. “I’m not sure how great that would look on a billboard for Adidas.”

“You deserve to be loved.” 

You had picked up your cup to take a drink of water, but upon hearing his words, you slam it down again and rise to your feet. He tracks your every move, as calm as ever.

 “I can’t talk to you right now, Art. You’re being cruel.”

You storm away from the table, only making it a few steps before you hear the scrape of his chair against the floor as he rushes to follow you.

 You’ve only just pushed open the door when he crowds up behind you. 

Art’s hand lands on your back as he guides you outside, his other hand rests on your arm and even after he turns you to face him, his touch remains.

 His hand is wrapped lightly around your arm, the other keeping you close- his palm pressed against your lower back. Anyone watching would think he was drawing you into an embrace. You almost shudder at the contact.

 Patrick has always been handsy, touching and caressing you under the guise of teasing, but Art has always moved around you as though you’ll disintegrate at the lightest touch. The way he’d held your wrist back in the dining hall and how he cradles you now, is the most he’s ever touched you.

 Your chest heaves as your flesh tingles.

Art’s head drops, his eyes on his own hand on your arm, as if he can’t understand why he’s holding you. His voice is strained:

“Patrick isn’t good for her.”

And just like that, you’re slammed mercilessly back down to earth. 

Art wasn’t touching you with tenderness or affection, you were just someone he was holding in place so that you had to hear him out. So you had to hear how much he wanted Tashi. 

“Oh, but I deserve to be thrown at him as a distraction so that you can have her?” You snap at him, more hurt than you’ll ever admit.

“You deserve whatever it is that you actually want.” 

Art sounds frustrated now, not at you…but perhaps at what he knows you won’t say. You do want Patrick. But you also want him. You had just never considered that he knew that.

But that’s not what you say. Instead you say–

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Do you want to know why he isn’t good for her?” Art presses, entirely unaffected by your fury.

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

The hand on your back pulls you a little closer, one errant blonde curl falls down from his forehead and brushes your temple. His breath is hot against your cheek. 

“Patrick’s not good for her-“ Art begins, his tone becoming embittered. “Because he wants you. He always has.” 

You rip free from Art’s grip with such force that the friction of it burns, his fingerprints leaving red marks on your arm. “You are unbelievable!” 

“I’m not lying. You know I wouldn’t, not to you.”

“You will say anything to have her won’t you?” You laugh nastily. “What’s the plan, Art? Do you think that I’ll try and seduce Patrick away from her now, leaving a space open for you to swoop in?” 

“Ask me how I know.”

“No.” You spit back at him. 

But you don’t move. 

Your body waits for words that your mind doesn’t think it can handle hearing. Something feels so close to breaking and you can’t help but feel like it’s to do with whatever force binds the four of you together. 

Art steps forward, closing the distance again, he raises his hands and rests them on either side of your neck, his thumbs pressing onto where your pulse is ratcheting beneath your fragile skin. 

“I know he wants you, because the night after he won our match- when he won Tashi’s number- he told me that I should fuck you.”

“Art.” You warn, frustrated tears bringing horrible pressure behind your eyes.

A small group comes out of the dining hall and have to split down the middle, because neither of you move a muscle. Art’s hold tightens, like he’s trying to leave a permanent imprint behind without it hurting you. 

He whispers now. “Patrick told me to fuck you. And I know him. He said that because when he couldn't have you, it excited him to think that I would. That I'd tell him about sleeping with you.”

“That was such a long time ago.” You say shakily, coming completely unmoored.

But Art won’t let it go.

“He still looks at you the same way, and that’s not fair to Tashi. You want to protect her, right? Well what will it do her when she finally notices the way her boyfriend is constantly eye-fucking her best friend?”

You hit out against his chest with a closed fist. The shock more than the force makes him stagger back. 

“You are so fucked in the head! You and Patrick are both pathetic little leeches who want the same girl, but can’t cope with the way it’s made them realise that they also want each other. You know what? I actually think so much would be solved, if you and Patrick just fucked each other!”

You start to back away and Art darts forward, trying to grab you again, but you smack his hand away and turn your back.

“Leave me alone, Art! And leave me out of your shit!”

He calls out your name with ragged desperation, but he does not follow. And even though he’s truly made your skin crawl, something about that makes you even more furious. 

Why won’t he follow you? 

Why do you still want him to?

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You hadn’t spoken to any of them since your argument with Art. 

You couldn’t cope with the realisation that if any of them ever did feel any desire for you, it was only because they saw you as some sort of vessel through which they could access parts of the person that they truly wanted.  

You couldn’t even be said to exist in Tashi’s shadow anymore, you had simply been subsumed by it. Those two men, who you both despised and wanted desperately, would never see you, not really. To them, you were just part of her. But you would not let them ruin your friendship with Tashi. You just wouldn’t.

You knew when you arrived to watch her match that something wasn’t right. She was upset. You could see it in all the minutiae of her: in the way she took off her hoodie, in the way she picked up her racket. Something was really wrong. 

You walk through the stands until you come across Art. 

There are two free spaces to the right of him, so you sit down on the one furthest away, leaving a gap in the middle for Patrick to take up when he arrives. But then time passes and the match approaches and he still hasn’t materialised. 

You feel Art staring long before he makes his move. The air shifts as he shuffles over into the seat directly beside you.

“That seat is taken.” You intone harshly. Your eyes are fixed on Tashi as she prepares. 

“If it was, I wouldn’t have been able to sit in it.” 

“Sorry, I should have been clearer. I don’t want you anywhere near me, so I want Patrick to sit there instead of you.”

Your name is a tentative as he speaks it. “Will you please look at me? I can’t handle you not looking at me.”

Your gaze remains set on Tashi, she looks up and finds you in the crowd. The furious divot between her brow eases for a moment before her eyes snag on the way that Art is leaning into you. She turns her back on the entire crowd, but you know the gesture is meant for you alone. 

Fuck. What the hell had happened overnight? If it was Art’s meddling, you’d kill him. 

“The match is about to start.” You say coldly. 

 Art’s hand lands on your knee, but when you flinch, he immediately pulls it away. 

“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry. I- I need you to forgive me.”

You grit your teeth at his audacity. “Why do you need me to, Art?”

“Because I can’t stand the thought of you not being in my li-“

The match begins and Art never gets to finish his sentence. 

In fact, you don’t speak to him properly for almost a decade after that. Because Tashi gets hurt. Her sporting career ends in the blink of an eye and takes your friendship with it.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

Both you and Art had sprinted down onto the court, your heart breaking in your chest as you fell to your knees beside your best friend, tears gathering in her eyes as she whimpered in pain. 

What had hurt the most though, was the way Tashi had shoved your hand away when you had tried to comfort her.

“Don’t touch me!” She had barked on a ragged breath. “Get away from me. Get away!” 

The hatred had dripped from her words and landed on you like a corrosive liquid. And as it had burned down to the bone, you had looked at Art and the apologetic agony with which he’d regarded you—even as he’d cradled Tashi’s head in his hands—told you what he’d done.  

He’d not only told you about Patrick’s supposed lust for you, but he’d also told Tashi. He had told her that even after her now boyfriend had won her number, he’d apparently been thinking about fucking you. Art had also definitely shared his little insight that Patrick didn’t love her either, which you quickly worked out had contributed to his absence.

So Art got what he wanted: he finally had his hands on Tashi and he’d done it by carving you and Patrick away. 

Art Donaldson was an attentive, gentle, even needy man, but you had been so stupid to think that meant he couldn’t also be calculated and cruel. Because of course he was. What else could win the heart of Tashi Duncan but brutal passion? It was part of what she loved about tennis: the unforgiving force of hits that once you met them, somehow felt like affection.

When Patrick had tracked an injured Tashi down, still waiting to be taken to hospital, he had been ordered away by both her and Art.

You knew that because he’d just told you. It was the first thing he’d said to you when you’d let him into your room fifteen minutes earlier.

Now, you were both sitting on the scratchy carpet of your dorm, passing a bottle of vodka between the two of you. 

You felt bereft. Your body wracked with sympathetic pain for the grief in your mind. You’d lost Tashi today, you knew that. And the man that had caused it, was a man you’d spent years yearning for. 

Art hadn’t only taken Tashi from you, but he’d violently ripped himself away too.

“Art wasn’t lying.” Patrick grumbles after taking another hearty gulp of vodka. 

“Please, don’t.” You beg wearily, taking the vodka from his outstretched hand and pressing it to your lips. Not even the burn of the spirit going down your throat registers.

“I wanted- want, both of you. You and Tashi.” 

He isn’t drunk, only tipsy, but he’s getting there, and his words are sluggish, laced with fury. 

“Shut up, Patrick.”

You fall down onto your back, resting the vodka bottle on your stomach, holding it by the neck as you stare up at the ceiling. 

Patrick has been sitting opposite you, but he moves languidly forward, crawling up over your body. He braces one knee beside your hip as the other slots between your legs. 

You blink up at him as one of his hands rests beside your head and the other falls over your own where it still holds the vodka bottle. You let him take it from you, placing it beside your body before the hand then moves to rest on the other side of your head. 

You’re now trapped beneath him, his lithe body hovering just above yours.

When he leans in, his alcoholic breath almost sears your skin as his lips brushed the shell of your ear. 

“Sometimes, when we were fucking I would imagine that you were with us.” Patrick’s teeth nip at your ear. “I asked her once, you know, and she slapped me. Called me a pig. I think she was just mad because she liked having you to herself. You were such a devoted acolyte, kissing the ground she walked on—“

Fury bursts within you like a solar flare, red-hot and ruinous. He was talking about her in the past tense, as if she was dead to both of you already.

Art groans in pain when you knee him in the balls. You use the chance to shove him off you and he falls to the side, knocking the bottle of vodka over. 

As you stand up, you feel the alcohol seeping into the carpet at your feet. 

“You are a pig.” You hiss down at him.

 It’s your room, but you find yourself storming towards the door. 

You don’t get far before Patrick recovers, clambering to his feet and easily closing the distance with his long legs. 

You groan in frustration as he presses you into the door, one hand above your head and the other wrapping around your torso, his fingers dangerously close to brushing your breasts over your tank top. 

“If I’m a pig, why did you let me in?” He pressed his face into your neck and breathes you in.

 Some of the vodka has evidently soaked into his shirt, because the scent seizes you with the same violence with which he had. It’s a secondary intoxication. 

You words come out weakly, and you hate that it’s because you’re using so much energy fighting the urge to press back into him:

“I felt sorry for you.”

Patrick laughs. 

The smug bastard actually laughs right into your skin, the vibrations travelling all the way down to where your body has begun to ache the most. 

“Oh, sure.” He coos patronisingly. “It definitely wasn’t because you’ve wanted to fuck me for years.”

You should fight him, but you don’t want to. 

You should protest when the hand that he has pressed to the door moves to pull down one of the straps of your tank top. But you simply don’t want to.  You want him. 

Art had been right about both of you.

No sooner has the thin strip of fabric been removed from your shoulder, than Patrick is clamping his teeth down on the exposed flesh. You yelp in surprise, the pain a burst of sordid pleasure. 

Patrick laughs again, the hand he has pressed to your stomach pulling you flush against him. You can feel his need for you pressing into your backside, but in case you had somehow missed it, he bucks his hips up into you. 

You gasp and he laughs again, his tongue now running over the aggravated skin where his teeth have left a dent.

“We both know what this is.” He goads.

“And what is it?” You ask teasingly, your head now thrown back and resting against his chest. He groans into your neck as you grind yourself back onto him. 

“Inevitable.”

“Are you just doing this to get back at them?” You ask, not daring to speak their names. 

An angry grumble you can’t quite make sense of tears out of Patrick’s throat just before he is forcefully spinning you around. 

You get barely a glimpse of his feral smirk before he is easily picking you up again and throwing you over his shoulder. The slap he delivers to your ass is punishing and stings furiously as he practically throws you down onto the carpet.

The bed is right next to you, but the asshole apparently wants you on the scratchy carpet and with a wet patch where the vodka has soaked in.

“I’m doing this, because I have wanted to fuck you, from the moment I saw you dancing at that party.”

 You’ve barely got your breath back after being thrown about, when he is grabbing your calf and yanking you down so that you’re laying completely flat beneath him. 

“But you only ever pursued Tash-“ 

He cuts you off from saying her name by leaning down and pressing his mouth to your still clothed breast. His tongue swirls over the fabric, your nipple growing pert. 

When his knee presses up between your legs, parting them forcefully, your head falls back, strands of your hair wetted by the spilt alcohol. 

When Patrick bites down on your chest far too hard, your hand instinctively comes up to slap the side of his head.

 You’re so shocked by your own burst of violence that you go still at exactly the same time as Patrick, both of you breathing furiously. When he does peer up at you, his dark curls slick against his increasingly sweaty forehead, menace dances in his eyes. 

“Do that again.” 

You wish you could have feigned confusion or indignation for even a moment, but your blood is pumping to all the right places to urge you to make terrible, delightful decisions.

 Your second slap connects cleanly with his cheek, your palm tingling with the force as his head spins to the side. 

Your handprint is already a pink mark on his skin when he wraps his arms around your torso, lifting you up just enough so that he can pull your tank top off and throw it to the side. Your chest is left bare to him and he wastes no time before peppering kisses to your sternum, to your breasts and your neck, his arms still wrapped around you, his nails digging into your back. 

The throbbing ache between your legs becomes far too much to bear, so you curl your fingers into his hair and forcefully tug him away from your chest- a bead of saliva stretching between your flushed skin to his swollen lips. 

You lean your head forward, taking his bottom lip between your teeth and biting, pulling at it until he groans pathetically. You let him go, beyond pleased when you don’t have to tell him what you want next. 

You don’t want to wait any longer. You haven’t slept with anyone since you met him and Art. 

Art.

 Is it wrong that as Patrick pushes your back into the carpet and pulls down your sweatpants and underwear in one clean tug, that you close your eyes and briefly imagine that it’s Art instead?

You might have found an answer if you had more time, but when you open your eyes, Patrick is over you, his shorts and boxers already discarded alongside your clothes. His shirt is still on, but neither of you have the patience for the second or so it would take to get it off him. 

Patrick smirks down at you before pressing two of his fingers into your mouth, you open gladly, your eyes locked onto each other as he swirls them around. When he’s satisfied, he pulls his fingers out, and then licks his own hand, mixing himself with you. 

He swipes his wet hand over your already slick core a few times before he’s pressing himself inside of you. Your arms curl around his neck as you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“Fuck.” He groans, his tongue licking up the side of your neck as his hips begin to move. 

“Patrick.” You plead, your fingers digging into the nape of his neck. 

He knows what you want, nipping at your neck before he is driving into you with bruising force. 

In that moment, as you’re joined in the way you’ve wanted since the moment you’ve set eyes on him, you realise thar Tashi isn’t the only person that can make you feel real. 

As Patrick drives into you–his lips and teeth leaving marks on your flesh that will be wine-dark by morning, and the horrible fabric beneath you leaving carpet burn on your back– you finally know more than tennis can make you feel alive. 

The sex is forceful and punishing, but fuelled by a genuine passion. Nothing but your intermingled breaths and the sound of your joined bodies fills the room. 

If the two of you hadn’t been so lost to your pleasure, you might have heard Art knocking on your door. But you didn’t. 

He did however hear the two of you, so he walked away. 

You wouldn’t speak to him or Tashi again for over ten years.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You weren’t in New Rochelle to compete. You didn’t need to. You were on the top of your game, ranked the third best female player in the world. 

No, you were in New York because despite your better judgement-- and the many years that had passed since you’d last seen him--when Patrick Zweig had called you, you’d answered. 

You hadn’t heard his voice since you had told him that for your own sanity, you couldn’t see him anymore.

For the two years you had been together after Tashi had banished you both from her life, you had let Patrick consume you. And you had never played tennis so poorly in your life. 

You hated what that said about you, that you had willingly discarded someone you had genuinely cared for to improve your ability to hit a ball. But hitting that ball was what kept you alive, not him. 

Not only that, it hadn’t taken you long to realise that you didn’t love Patrick enough to let him affect your career.

And yet when he had called, you’d answered. And when he’d told you that Art Donaldson had entered the Challenger as a wildcard, you both knew that you would come. 

From the moment you had booked the flight, to the first step you’d taken into the hotel, you had lied to yourself that you were only coming for the closure that you hadn’t received as a twenty year old. 

But when you stepped into the hotel lobby and saw Tashi disappearing into the nearby elevator, your self-deception shattered. 

You were here because still, after all the time that had passed, you ached for the way that you had felt when she had been in your life. You missed her. And you had missed Art. 

It was a sickening truth of your life, that while no one had fucked with your head or upset you as much as Art had ended up doing, no one else had ever been so attentive to you either. 

Art had watched you—watched out for you—even when you weren’t playing tennis. In fact, in moments of utter stillness, when you had been doing nothing even remotely remarkable, was when you had always caught him staring. He never shied away, or broke his gaze when he was caught, he’d just smiled as if he wanted you to know he would never feel shame for being found looking at you. 

And that had not changed.

You have been sitting at the hotel bar for ten minutes, feeling sorry for yourself and nursing the same glass of gin and tonic, when you feel someone looking at you. 

You turn your head cautiously, your shoulders sagging as your eyes meet Art’s. He’s sitting on one of the small leather couches tucked into the far corner of the darkened room. 

It had been an inevitability, but things would have been so much easier if you never came across him. 

You know you shouldn’t move- part of you had come for closure and you could get that just by watching him compete tomorrow, so you don’t need to talk to him. 

But then Art tilts his head and smiles at you like no time has passed and pats his hand on the unoccupied space beside him on the couch. 

You get down off the barstool.

 As you approach, he watches unflinchingly.

The last time you had heard Art’s voice, was when Tashi had suffered her injury and he’d been permitted to stay by her side when she had ordered you away.

And yet even after so much time, when he greets you with a quiet ‘hello’, the pathetic girl who had pined after him returns.

You don’t respond as you come to a stop right in front of him, the tips of your heels right against the toes of his shoes, but you make no move to sit down. 

It’s of course not the first time you’ve seen him since college, or been at the same event, or even in the same room- you’re both highly successful tennis players, you couldn’t help but overlap sometimes. But neither of you have ever allowed yourselves to get close, or to even speak. 

It has been over ten years of your eyes connecting through crowds and across rooms that felt much larger than they were, simply because there was distance between the two of you within them. 

Art sits forward, his forearms resting on his knees. He’s fiddling with his wedding ring and you can’t bear to look at the familiar way his fingers carry out the gesture. 

When he looks up at you, it's so open and wanting that you almost turn right back around. But then you hear his voice again.

“Can I ask you to sit with me?” 

“I don’t know Art, can you?” 

He smiles, sighing softly as he runs his hand through his hair. It’s short- much shorter than the curls he’d had at college. You like it. It suits him. 

You shift on your feet, crossing your arms across your chest to cover up your nerves. Perhaps you can protect yourself if you look like you’re closed off from him and from…whatever this interaction is about to be. 

Art doesn’t say anything else, but he surprises you by rising to his feet. You stagger back, but his hand reaches out and lands on your side to steady.

His touch lingers for a moment too long, but he does eventually pull it away.

 But he’s still close, too close.

Your hands have fallen to your sides, so it is too easy for Art to reach out and brush his fingers against yours. He doesn’t intertwine them, but he’s doing enough to let you know that it’s what he wants to do. 

He whispers your name. “Will you please sit with me?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Art.” 

“When have you ever known me to have one of those?” 

You smile ruefully, but take a step back. His hand chases you, his fingers brushing against yours again as he tries to take your hand. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve known anything about you.” You say, hating how sad it sounds. 

You should be angry at least. His meddling and his desire for Tashi is what ripped you all apart. And he has her now. They have a daughter together.

He doesn't get to ask you for anything, not even if it’s just to sit with him. 

You can’t trust yourself to sit next to him. 

“You do know me. Time can’t change that.” He insists, quietly but firmly. 

You scoff nastily. “I knew Art Donaldson when he was in college. The world famous tennis player who does AD campaigns for sports cars with his wife, is a stranger to me.” 

“Yeah.” Art laughs darkly. “He’s a stranger to me too.” 

You frown at him, growing angry. He seems exhausted and down-trodden. He’s clearly hurting and you hate that you know that—you hate that you‘d been able to tell that even from across the bar—because it means that he’s right: you do still know him. 

“It’s late, Art. You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

You turn away from him and while he doesn’t reach for you this time, he does call out. You keep you back to him as he asks his question. 

“Who do you want to win, me or Patrick?” 

“Tennis can’t decide a victor between the two of you, Art. It’s never been able to.”

When you walk to the elevator, you feel a physical strain as you stop yourself from looking back at him.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You were right, tennis couldn’t decide on a winner: it was as fickle and incomprehensible as the human heart. Which was fitting, seeing as Tashi had always described tennis as a relationship. 

You had sat only two places away from her during Patrick and Art’s match, and you know she had seen you. But there had been no reaction, her face had been impassive and set on the court, her eyes hidden behind a large pair of sunglasses. 

Now, the match was long over and a result had been given. And yet there hadn’t been a victory for anyone. Just like you knew there wouldn’t be.

Something had happened on that court between the two men, some silent, inexplicable exchange that had altered the very fabric of them.

This time, when Art knocks on your door, not only do you hear it, but you answer. 

You feel almost shocked when you pull open the door to reveal him, dressed in a grey t-shirt and flannel pyjama trousers. You’re surprised at the sight as if you hadn’t known he was coming- as if you hadn’t readily offered up your room number when he had messaged and asked for it.

You’re also somehow certain that Patrick had given him your number, but you didn’t want to dwell on what sort of exchange had led to him handing it over.

Without a word, you step away from the door, self-consciously tightening the cord that holds the silk robe around your body. You stop and face the windows.

The curtains are drawn, by you stare forward as though the whole skyline is on display to you. 

The door to your room clicks shut.

You hear Art take off his shoes before his feet are padding towards you. 

When his arms wrap around your waist, you close your eyes and savour the sensation. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, so you lift a hand and rest it on the side of his head. 

“I want to retire at the end of this year.” He says and you can feel his exhaustion in the slow breaths that coast over your neck. 

“So retire.” You answer softly, your eyes still on the curtains. “You’re tired.”

You know you don’t need to clarify. Thanks to the grateful press of his lips against your neck, you know he understands what you mean. 

Art is weary of all that he has to be when he’s playing tennis; he’s tired of the effort it takes to play the sport for not just him, but for Tashi too. His wife has been living vicariously through him. He’s been living for two people, taking the strain of two professional athletes combined. 

You know there had never been any point in competing with Art or Patrick, because Tashi would always love tennis the most. 

A shiver wracks your body as Art’s hand reaches for the bow that’s keeping your otherwise bare body concealed from him.

 “Can I?” His request is whined into your hair as he presses his face into the back of your head. 

Instead of answering verbally, you nudge his hand away and untie the robe yourself. Then, you take hold of both of his wrists and guide his hands onto your skin. You let out a sigh of relief when Art finally touches you the way you want him to. 

Your hands are still on him as his fingers move to cup your breasts, but he is the one guiding his movements now. He squeezes, his thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

“Art.” You rasp, pressing back into him wantonly. 

“Can I have you?” He asks, pressing open mouthed, hot kisses to your neck as he palms your breasts. “Please, let me have you.” 

“Stop fucking asking me and just do it.” 

You feel him grin against your neck just before he backs away, pulling back your robe and tugging it from your body.

The fabric has barely had time to pool at your feet when he’s grabbing you by the hips, his fingers digging in as he turns you. 

When Art’s lips finally claim yours, you moan unashamedly. His kiss is gentle but assured, you struggle for breath as he refuses to release you. Then, his hands are cupping your ass and he’s lifting you up. 

With his lips still moving hungrily against yours, Art settles you onto the edge of the bed. When he draws back, your lips chase after him and he smiles, grasping your face in his hands and giving you one more brief but searing kiss before he’s dropping to the ground.

 His hands press into your knees, forcing them apart as he begins to kiss and lick up your inner thighs. 

You prop yourself up on your elbows, watching where his mouth ravenously meets your flesh, tracing his path as he works his way closer to where you want him most.

When he reaches the top of your thigh, Art peers up at you through his long eyelashes, already looking drunk on you as he presses another kiss to your burning skin. 

“Lay back.” He instructs gently. 

But you’re too transfixed to listen- too desperate to see the moment his lips land on your core to look away.

He smiles at the realisation, delighting in your shudder as his tongue darts out and licks a line up your centre. 

“Oh my- fuck!” Your head falls back, already lost in the feeling of his mouth's devoted ministrations. 

As Art pleasures you, one of his hands skates up your stomach and gently presses down, asking rather than forcing you to lay back. This time you oblige, your eyes closed as your hands fist in the sheets. 

“You deserve so much more than I can give you.” 

You smile to yourself. Only Art could grovel as he gives so much pleasure.

Tightness begins to coil in your lower belly, but the moment he adds a teasing finger to his tongue’s movements, you realise you can’t wait. 

“Art- stop.” You gasp out, sitting up and resting your hands on his head. 

He halts immediately but doesn’t remove himself from between your legs. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, his hands rubbing soothingly along your thighs. 

“It’s not enough.” You say, tugging on his hair, trying to get him to come to you. “I need you.” 

Art doesn’t have to be asked twice, but he also doesn’t rush. He presses one last kiss to your now very sensitive folds before he’s climbing over you. 

You shuffle back, settling yourself onto the middle of the bed and even as Art takes off his clothes, he watches you. It’s as if he’s afraid that you’ll disappear if he so much as blinks. 

Now completely naked, he lays himself over you, his arms braced beside your head. He positions himself so carefully thar it’s almost as though he’s trying to fit himself to the shape of you- every divot and curve perfectly aligned sp that you’ll be fused together forever. 

As Art sweeps hair out from your face, his blue eyes bore down into you with an adoring intensity. 

You smile up at him and he rewards you by cradling your face in his hands, he lowers his head, his nose brushing yours as he gently takes your lower lip between his teeth.

Only when you understand what he wants and you open your mouth, does he kiss you again, his tongue delving in deeply.

As he seeks to consume you, your hands run down his back, squeezing his sides with your thighs. 

Art’s still kissing you as one of your hands reaches the curve of his arse, you dig your nails in and he jolts, his mouth moving away from yours and travelling down your neck. 

Tentatively, you move one hand around and down between his legs and when your hand wraps around him, he falters, his kisses stopping. 

“Is this alright?” 

Art moves again, licking the sweat slick expanse of skin between your breasts.

“Anything you do will be alright.” He assures, his lips brushing a nipple and making your back arch. 

“Do you want to have sex, Art?” You ask, barely restraining yourself.

His breaths are hot against your sensitive breasts when he answers. “Please.”

It is a joint effort as he slides inside of you. You gasp, arms wrapping around his neck as he presses kisses into yours.

Art groans as he begins to move achingly slowly, his hips rolling over yours with precision. 

You're happy like that for a few minutes, both of you revelling in your closeness after years subjected to absent desire for one another. But eventually, you want more.

You yearn for more force and luckily as you buck up into him, Art gets the message.

 As one of his hands moves behind your head, cradling it so that he can keep kissing you, the other wraps around your thigh, and pulls your leg higher over his hip, allowing himself to get even deeper. 

“You’re so beautiful.” He says in-between sloppy kisses, moving rapidly as you moan and whine. “You’ve always been so beautiful.”

Even with him inside you, making you feel more desired than anyone ever has, your mind drifts to that first night you had met him. The first night you had met Patrick. 

“You stared at Tashi.” You say.

You aren’t accusatory or upset, if anything the acknowledgement if it turns you on more. All four of you have always had a desire for the other, and it feels powerful to finally acknowledge it.

“-That night on the beach, you couldn't take your eyes off her. Neither of you could.” 

“I wanted you.” Art asserts with a particularly powerful thrust. “I- I wanted you so badly, but you went home.”

You nod, pulling him in for another kiss as you meet his thrusts. 

You understand his thinking. You’d often wondered how things might have changed had you not gone home early that night. If you’d stayed on the beach and then gone to their hotel room along with Tashi. 

Entirely content with just moving as one, you both fall silent and somehow Art curls over you even more tightly, like he wants his whole body to hide yours from the world. 

After you’ve both found your release he takes you into the shower and cleans himself off of your sensitive skin, each swipe of the washcloth accompanied by a kiss.

It ends up being time wasted though, because when you return to the bed, he takes you twice more.

━━━━∙⋆⋅⋆∙━━━━

You wake up with Art’s head resting on your bare chest. He’s laying on his side, one arm stretched out on the pillow above your head and his other hand resting on your hip. 

You’re sore in the most pleasant of ways as you sit up. You try to move slowly but Art stirs anyway, his head turning to press open mouthed kisses to your sternum. 

You rest your hand on his cheek, meaning to guide him away, but he moves so that he can kiss the palm of your hand instead. 

It’s only when you sigh into his touch, his eyes still closed as his other hand delves between your legs, that you realise why you had woken up int he first place. 

Someone was knocking on your door. 

And then you hear her voice. 

Tashi is calling out your name, sounding almost panicked.

 “Please, open the door, I know you’re in there.”

This time when you push Patrick away, he obliges, but far less quickly than you would have liked.

 In the time it takes for you to throw on your silk robe and gather up all of his clothes from the floor, he has barely got himself to stand up. He’s naked and blinking sleepily at you. 

When you shove the bundle of his clothes into his arms, he rushes to press a passionate kiss to your lips, holding the back of your head with his free hand.

You aren’t sure you want to know whether he’s truly still half asleep and genuinely hasn’t realised what is happening, or if he just doesn’t care that his wife is outside the door.

Flushed but furious at his casual demeanour, you push Art into the bathroom and close the door, just as Tashi knocks again.

 The repeated request for you to come to the door tumbles from her lips like a prayer.

You brace your hand against the door as you draw in a fortifying breath and smooth out your hair. You swear you can feel her through the door. 

The moment you open the door, Tashi is bursting in and closing it behind her. You step back, waiting for her to make the first move, for her to shout of attack or go charging into the bathroom. But she does none of those things. 

Instead, Tashi pulls you into a crushing hug. You go still, shocked but healed by it at the same time.

She pulls back, taking your face in her hands.

 “You’re a phenomenal tennis player.” Tashi says it rapturously. 

If you weren’t burning up at the feel of her hands on you, you might have laughed at how ridiculously perfect it was that those were her first words to you after over a decade. 

Tashi communicated and connected through tennis. She loved through tennis.

All you can muster is a very sincere: “Thank you.”

Tashi brushes your hair out of your face, tucking a stray piece behind your ear. You find your hands lifting, resting atop hers where they hold your cheeks.

“You need to let me coach you.” Tashi demands almost possessively.

“I have a coach.”

“They’re not me.”

“No, they’re not.”

And just like that, you were snared again. 

You had gone years without any of them, and with one word, you had allowed all three of them back into your life.

 Only this time, you know it might actually kill you if any of them leave. And perhaps it would kill them too. 

Only time would tell.

[pinkyqil]

salma p. x reader who's not a footballer

prompt: blind date

location: barcelona

Blind date // salma paralluelo

Salma had been getting restless teasing from her friends and fellow teammates. Especially about her lover life or when she came back from one of her horrid dates that went awful.

"So Salma how did your last date go". vicky asked her with a teasing voice.

"Ugh I don't even want to talk about it spare me please".

"Nope you don't get to butt out of telling us". Pina and patri told her along with esme and ona agreeing with there statements.

She told them how it went especially how the other girl had accidentally spill a drink on her after refusing to give her free tickets to there next game and how she basically got ditched mid date.

"So your telling me she threw her drink on you after you declined her request and left you for someone else". vicky said before bursting into laughter along with the other girl's.

"Very well figured out genius". salma throwing her head back before laughing with them.

"You basically got toyed with amiga I feel bad for you.patri told her

"Thanks for the reminder guys let's go before we have to do extra laps". She told the group of friends before jogging away.

"I feel bad now guys poor salma".vicky told the group of girls as they made there way down

"Yeah". they said in tune before making there way back.

"Salma salma". Ona called up the tall girl trying to reach her before she left.

Upon hearing her name begin called she turned around to a already tried ona.

"Yes".she said

"Are you free tonight?".ona asked her

"Yep got nothing to do but watch a film".

"How about a blind date-".before ona could finish she got a no

"No after what I told you expect me to go on another one especially a blind date?".

"Please think about it I'll send you the details I promise you she's a good one". Ona explained to a very bother salma.

Salma found herself staring at ona's messages for a ungodly amounts of time.her heart and mind kept telling her two different things. Go and just enjoy yourself or stay and avoid going on the blind date knowing whatever could happen.

She decided to go knowing she's dealt with worse slama was never the type to face her challenges but when she did, she definitely takes over.so here she was looking through her closet and looking for the perfect fit to wear knowing that she was definitely going to be late.

She dusted her outfit one last time before heading inside the mini cafe restaurant. the nervousness was gone the moment she felt the cafe peaceful atmosphere. spoting a darked haired woman at the table she mentally cursed herself out for being late.

"Hi sorry for coming in late something came up". she said before taking a sit the moment she looked at you she felt and insanely amount of butterflies in her stomach.

Forget gorgeous you we're breathtaking when her eyes meet yours.

"No worries I didn't have to wait that long".you told her.

The date went smoothly in fact amazing.you both got to know each other a lot more and surprisingly you both had a lot more in common than you thought.

finding out that night she loved going for runs midnight jogs just like you made your heart flutter especially with how flirty she got mid date making you blush hard that you we're probably different shade.

After a while you both took a walk in the beautiful city of Barcelona holding hands breeze in your face and a fresh moment for you both.

"Same time next week". she asked you

"Definitely I really enjoyed the date salma thanks for making it meaningful for me".you told her

"No thank you I was actually contemplating on coming after awful date encounters but I'm glad I did".

The next day salma woke up with butterflies her mind was just filled with thoughts about seeing you and your next date together.

but sadly those thought had been interrupted when she head for training.

First person she saw would be ona who looked over the moon to see her telling from the huge grin she had on her face.

"Soo by the smile on your face I can assume the date went well".

"It did come one let's head down and I'll tell you everything".has she grabbed ona's hand so that they could partner up for drills and she's spils the date tea.

A/n: hope you like it added a lil twit of my own I'm still taking in the 3 player prompt thing all you gotta do is send in a player prompt and location hope y'all like enjoy this fic and has always feedbacks are appreciated 💗

[tkwrites]

Good For You - Quinn Hughes x ofc

gif from @gabelandeskog

Title: Good For You

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Pre-established: Quinn Hughes x Sarah Roberts (ofc)

Summary: Quinn and Sarah have a discussion about and decide to stop using condoms before putting that decision into practice. A question we’ve all been waiting for is finally asked.

Warnings: smut (18+ only), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), cum play (sort of?), if I missed anything, let me know!

Word count: 4,900

Comments: I live! 

After two heavy snapshots, steeped in feelings, I’m back with some good old fashioned smut (with lots of plot, of course, because I am who I am). Thanks to the many Nonnies who requested this. I’d already started writing it when you sent this, but your asks challenged me to combine both your requests. I hope you enjoy, and it lives up to your expectations! If you did enjoy, please let me know by commenting, sending in an ask or reblogging! I love reading your comments, asks and suggestions! 

Anonymous asked: hey! Another request idea… I was rereading the fic about Sarah being overwhelmed before meeting Quinn’s parents and when they’re talking about the WAG jackets, sarah mentions that they aren’t official yet. Can we get fic of Quinn officially asking Sarah to be his gf? Seriously love readying your stuff! 

Anonymous asked: I love how much you actually show the communication between Quinn and Sarah, it makes it so much more real and overall I just love your writing ❤️❤️ I noticed how as their relationship progresses, they decide not to use condoms. Will we get to see this conversation in the future? I'd also love to see when they officially decide to be together with labels and all xxx

Good For You

A Quinn & Sarah snapshot

“Hey, Quinn?” Sarah called, walking up the stairs. 

“Yeah?” 

She found him on the suede couch, reading a book. 

Sitting at his feet, she smiled when he moved them into her lap. “I wanted to talk to you about something.” 

“Okay,” he put the marker in his book and rested it on his chest. 

Color flooded into her cheeks. 

“What?” he asked, unable to hold in a nervous laugh at her sudden blush.

“I just,” she paused to lick her lips, trying to screw up her courage. “I wanted to let you know I had an IUD put in last month.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s the most effective form of birth control. It’s pretty much as effective as celibacy.” 

He paused, unsure where this conversation was going. When she didn't elaborate, he asked, “So what did you want to talk about? Just that you have it?” 

“Well that and —” she knotted her fingers together, “since it’s super effective, and we’re only seeing each other and have been for a while, I wondered if maybe you wanted to…” she trailed off. 

Quinn got the feeling he was supposed to know what she was talking about, but he was clueless. “If I wanted to, what?” 

Chewing on her lip, she guessed it was time to just spit it out, “I wondered if we both get STI tested, and only if you want to, we could try not using condoms all the time.” 

He felt his eyes go wide. “What?” 

“I mean, only if you want to. If you feel more comfortable with condoms, that’s totally fine.” 

“Are you joking?” he asked, scrambling to sit up. The book slipped off him and fell to the wood floor with a sharp slap. “Of course I want to. Did you think I was going to turn down that offer?” 

“I don’t know.” 

He moved to kneel, crowding into her space. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel it in his fingertips. “Can we try now?” 

A laugh split her mouth into a pretty smile, but she put a hand to his chest to stop him from leaning closer. 

“We need to get STI tested first.”

“I’m clean,” he said.

“As far as I know, I am too, but I would feel better if we both got tested, knowing neither of us has slept with someone else in quite a while.”

He looked crestfallen. 

“It’s not that I don’t believe you,” she hastened to add, “I’ve just heard horror stories of girls whose boyfriends didn’t know they were carrying something. Most STIs affect women, you know, and men just pass them along.” 

His eyes went wide, “really?” 

“Just another joy of being a woman.” 

“Thats bullshit.”

“Yep,” she agreed, popping the last letter. “So It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I really need that proof for my own peace of mind before I’d feel comfortable.”

“Yeah,” Quinn agreed, “of course. I’ll talk to Roman about it tomorrow.” 

“I’ll message my doctor,” she said with a shy smile, pulling out her phone. 

Logically, Quinn knew they needed to talk about this before anything could happen, but the thought that he might get to fuck her bare buzzed in the back of his mind so intensely, he wished she had waited until it was an actual possibility, even if that was impossible.

When he asked Roman about it between breakfast and video the next day, the trainer immediately went into crisis mode, “what kind of symptoms are you having?” 

“None. I'm just — I want to be safe.” 

He was going to tell him that the girl he was seeing — he was getting so sick of using that phrase — asked him to, but that seemed like it was putting all the blame on Sarah. While she did ask for it, he'd just never considered it something he should do. Now that he knew, he was more than happy to do it.

“You're sure? You can tell me, you know.” 

“I know. No symptoms. I’m just making sure.” 

Roman looked at him appraisingly. “Are you dating someone new?” 

Quinn was a bit surprised he hadn't heard about it. It seemed to him it was the only thing the guys chirped him about lately. 

“Yeah.” 

“Good for you,” he said approvingly. “Glad to know you're being safe.” 

Quinn felt a chagrinned smile spread over his face. 

“Well, I’m glad to know your girlfriend is safe at least,” Roman said with a laugh. 

How was it so easy for him to whip that word around? 

“Go to Doctor Jamison's after practice. I'll put in an order for you. They'll just need a blood sample.” 

The results took two days. By that time he was on the road. Thankfully, not for too long. Only one game.

He sent her a screenshot of the panel results. All negative, mercifully. He didn't expect to be positive, but he hadn't checked while he was with or after he broke up with June. 

She sent back a screenshot of her own test panel, also all negative. 

It was suddenly very real. The idea of coming home to Sarah was even more enticing than usual. 

He’d fucked girls bare before, he knew the sensations that came along with it, but he’d never fucked Sarah bare before. He’d tried, and she’d insisted on using condoms. He wasn’t going to make her uncomfortable, and he wasn’t going to give up sleeping with her. If that meant he had to wear a condom, he’d do it. 

Now that the possibility of making love to her without one was on the horizon, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. 

Looks like we'll be coming in about 2, he texted when they got to the arena. They'd fly home right after the game versus Calgary. Want to just stay at my place?

Wish I could, she wrote back, but I have class tomorrow at 8. I'll come to yours as soon as I'm done with work, though. 

“What's wrong, Q?” Brock asked, noticing his crestfallen expression. 

“Nothing,” he said, shoving his phone into his bag. “Sarah's just got class tomorrow morning so I won't see her until tomorrow night.” 

“Man, she's got you whipped.”

Quinn rolled his eyes, playing off the comment. If he protested, he knew they would just chirp him about it more, and there was no way he was going to explain his excitement to Brock. 

When the next evening finally rolled around, Quinn found himself pacing, a nervous excitement buzzing through his whole body. He’d never felt like this before. As if anticipation had been winding him up for 4 days straight. 

He’d tried his best to burn off as much energy as possible on a run that morning, but that felt like years ago now. Adrenaline was coursing through him by the gallon. 

He heard the elevator ding, and his stomach leapt. 

Before Sarah could scan in, the door flung open. Quinn was standing there, cheeks already flushed. 

She couldn’t help it, she gigged. 

“What?” 

“You’re just really cute,” she said.

Pulling her into the apartment, he resisted the urge to pull her upstairs straight away. Cool. He needed to be cool.

“Cute in a good way, right?” 

“Yes,” she assured, leaning up to kiss him. “In a very good way.” 

All of a sudden, the enormity of the situation crashed on him. He and Sarah had had sex 73 times, but this felt totally new. A frantic awkwardness took hold of his mind. How was he supposed to start this? Just like every other time? Every other time, it happened so naturally.  

“Hey,” she said, grasping his wrist, trying to stop the overthinking she could practically see scrolling across his face. 

He blinked a few times and met her eyes. “Sorry. I’m so… I mean, I’ve never anticipated something like this for so long.” The words were falling out of his mouth before he really had a chance to think through them. 

“Yeah, I get that,” she said. “I’m not sure I have either.” 

“I don’t want to fuck it up,” he admitted. 

A soft smile took over her face. “Quinn, it’s me. We've already had great sex. This is just another step.” 

Nodding, he took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before letting it out. Excitement reared in his stomach again, waging battle with his nerves. 

“I do think we should talk about it, though.” 

“Didn’t we already talk about it?”

“I mean, I think we should talk about what we want.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Like, what we're looking for.” She moved to sit on the living room couch, pulling him down with her. “I want to make sure we talk about it before we're in the heat of the moment so neither of us do something the other isn’t comfortable with.”

Quinn had never been with someone who communicated as much as Sarah. “It’s a product of the dead parents,” she’d told him when he asked her about it once, “life’s too short to not have the conversation.”

He sat next to her, “okay, so what do you want?”

“I want to feel you fuck me bare.” 

The frank way she said it made his whole body ring.

“And I want to feel you come inside me.” It felt dangerous and exciting to say it out loud, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. 

“Really?” Quinn asked, voice lilted with surprise. 

“Yeah. I've been dreaming about it,” she admitted. For the past few weeks, it seemed every time she would dream of him, the feeling of him filling her was so vivid that when she woke, her underwear would be soaked, almost as if she'd orgasmed in her sleep. “I'm guessing that's something you want, too?” 

He nodded. 

“Is there anything else you want?” 

He opened his mouth, then paused. 

She nodded, encouraging him. 

“I mean, there is something but it’s not a huge deal.” He was pretty certain she would at least consider it, but history had him trying to not get his hopes up.

“Tell me,” she urged, resting her hand on his knee. “I want to do what you want, too.” 

“I want to come on you,” he admitted, the words coming out all in a rush.

Eyes widening, Sarah couldn’t quite stifle the laugh that squeaked from her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she hurriedly back pedaled, seeing the hurt on his face, “I’m not laughing at you, it’s just — with the look on your face, I was bracing myself for something super kinky.”

“June hated it,” he said quietly. “She didn’t like cum at all.”

“So did you just wear condoms all the time?” 

“No. She didn’t like those either.” 

Her eyebrows furrowed together, an incredulous expression on her face. “You can’t have it both ways.” 

Something inside him unknotted. 

“I mean, did she insist you come in a tissue every time or something?” 

“Most of the time,” he amended, “sometimes I could come in her, but never on her.” 

June reminded Sarah so much of the mean girls she’d known throughout her life: content to demand things of others, knowing their social currency was enough to purchase obedience to all of those ridiculous rules. Part of her wondered if June even disliked cum, or if she was just trying to keep Quinn under her thumb. 

“Well I don’t have a problem with either. I mean, I don’t really love a facial, but other places are fine.” She paused for a moment, thinking about how often Quinn asked her questions, willing to learn, so he could please her better, “and, I mean, if you’re really invested in coming on my face, we can do it. I just don’t want it all the time.”  

He felt his eyelids grow heavy and he swallowed thickly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah. A relationship is a two way street. You deserve to get the things you want, too. ” 

The relieved smile he gave her in response made her want to slap June across the face. Quinn was so, so good — attentive and genuine and so willing to learn and please. She wanted to do the same for him. Besides, it wasn’t like Sarah had some kink for cum, at least she didn’t think she did, but feeling a partners pleasure in such a tangible way, always gave her a deep sense of satisfaction. 

“Is there anything else you want?” he asked. 

“No. You?” 

He shook his head.

“Alright,” she said, “I think we should go upstairs.” 

Quinn stopped trying to play it cool. He was too excited to play it cool. He grabbed her hand and raced up the stairs, glad that she laughed as she ran along with him. 

She threw open the door to his room. Sarah loved this room. It was in the corner of the building, and huge windows looked over the beautiful Vancouver skyline. The sun was setting, turning the harbor and city windows yellow and pink, casting their colors on the walls and spinning everything else in the room into gold. 

Before she could get too caught in the view, he was spinning her around, catching her mouth in a kiss that sucked the breath right out of her. 

Clothing was discarded, and they tumbled into his bed. 

They surged together and Sarah moaned. It was already so much better. 

Somehow, there was less pressure. He didn't have to think about pulling away to make sure they were safe. He could stay focused on her without any other worries. Why had he been so nervous? This felt, like she said, like the natural next step. 

When he pulled back to line himself up, Sarah pressed her hand to his pelvis stopping the movement. 

“What?” he asked, worried he'd hurt her. 

“We need lube,” she said. “Or more foreplay. The condoms you have have lube on them, so they slide easier. Without that I'm worried…” she trailed off. 

He hadn't even thought about it. “Which do you want?”

“I mean, I'm always game for more foreplay.”

Grinning, he leaned down to kiss her, rolling his hips against hers again. As their tongues tangled, she groaned into his mouth. 

“Tell me when you're ready,” he whispered in her ear before tracing his lips over her jaw and down her neck. He licked and kissed, while one of his hands fondled her breasts, working her up to those hitched little breaths and small moans he loved so much.

“Quinn,” she breathed, a few moments later, as her temperature spiked. He hadn’t shaved in a while, and his beard rasped against her skin. She’d never liked facial hair before him, but somehow, with Quinn, it was more arousing than painful. Probably because of what else he was doing. God, he was good with his mouth. 

Unbidden, but not unwelcome or unfamiliar, images crashed into her mind — Quinns head buried between her thighs, his magic tongue working her to a climax she knew would be mind melting. The fantasies made her desperate for him.

“I need you,” she gasped, feeling herself grow slick against the muscular ridge of his thigh he had wedged between her legs.

“I’m right here.”

“I need you inside me.”

Her admission made Quinn feel drunk with desire. Out of his mind with it. He pulled back and her hand covered his to help him line up.

Pressing into her was better than he’d imagined. 

She was so hot and wet and, “shit, you’re so tight,” he ground out, the words scraping over a moan. 

Now that the barrier was gone, the time spent waiting to remove it was well worth it. Her smooth walls hugged him perfectly. 

Just to feel the contrast, he withdrew to the tip, pulling a sharp breath through his teeth at the rush of cool air before he drove back into her warmth. His jaw dropped and he made some unintelligible sound.

Slick and slippery, his thrusts moved with her seamlessly as she rose to meet him again and again and again.

“So good,” she breathed, reveling in the feel of him - every vein and ridge that had been smoothed by the latex covering before felt so prominent now and, “Quinn, you feel so good.” 

The praise went straight to his head.

“You feel so —” he broke off with a growl. “Shit, you feel so amazing, Sarah. I — I —” He babbled, nearly blurting that he loved her. He bit that back. This wasn’t the time for that. He wanted that to be special, not something spluttered in a lust-drunk moment. “I don't know how long I can last,” he admitted instead. 

God, he was something else. Flushed and flustered, eyes half hooded, body tight with exertion and control, he looked delicious. The fact that he wanted her this much made her chest feel full to bursting.

A moan escaped her mouth as pleasure washed over her face. Her eyelashes fluttered.

Just like that, he was done for. Cooked.

“I can't… I can't,” he stammered. At least he lasted longer than the embarrassing two strokes from their first time.

“Then don't,” she panted, rocking her hips into his. Her own climax building as the thought of him finally coming inside her brought her sensitivity to a peak. 

Groaning her name, he let his body take over, rhythm turning sloppy. 

As she watched, his eyes fluttered closed and with a final, powerful thrust, he sheathed himself to the hilt and let go. 

Feeling the very tangible result of his pleasure coat her walls made Sarah’s breath hitch. It only took a few more rocks of her hips before her body bowed, chest pressing flush to his as she pulsed around him, pleasure poured into her body. 

His mouth was open against her neck as he let out a sort of pained grunt.

Coming down, she melted into the soft mattress. 

His body followed hers, his weight pressing into her. He knew it was probably too heavy, but he couldn’t possibly hold himself up right now.

Quinns gasping breaths were crashing into her neck. Even though it didn’t make it any easier to catch her breath, she loved the solid weight of him on top of her.

Strength slowly returned to him and they both winced a little as he eased out. 

Flopping onto his back next to her, he groped for her hand. “Oh my god,” he breathed, once he had control of his voice. “That was incredible.”

“Yeah,” she sighed, pulling some breaths deep into her lungs.

After a few more moments of basking in the afterglow, she moved to get up. He tugged her back, “where are you going?” 

“I need to pee. I'll be right back, I promise.” 

He didn't shy away from watching her pad to the bathroom and then back to the bed. 

Halfway through their second round, he was determined to feel Sarah come undone around him when he wasn’t so sensitive from his own orgasm. Working his fingers to her clit, he traced gentle patterns over the swollen nub. 

A pleasured sigh left her lips. “Oh,” Sarah breathed, “that feels so good, Quinn.”

She had to take a moment to make her mind concentrate on one thing at a time. Anticipation coiled tighter in her belly as she focused on his gentle, deliberate touch, the heat of his body above and inside her, and then, the feel of his cock, which had been so dulled before, it almost felt completely new.

He dipped lower, gathering more of her arousal on his fingers to slip and slide over her bundle of nerves. 

He didn’t try to hide or hold back from how good it felt when she fluttered around him. Her name panted from his mouth. Only when he felt himself sliding too close to the edge, did he bite his lip to distract himself. 

Seeing Quinn hold on for her, trying to draw out her orgasm before his own, made tenderness swell within her. It mixed with the pleasure in her veins, bringing her closer to the peak. How the hell did June not see him this way? 

She gasped his name before admitting, “I’m almost there.” 

“What do you need?” he asked, wrenching his eyes open to look into her face. 

“Keep going, don’t stop. Don’t stop.” 

He shook his head. Never. He would never stop trying to please her like this and any other way he could. 

The steady rhythm he restrained himself into did its job, and she tipped over the edge. 

The coil in her belly finally shattering, her body seized up as pleasure fractured through her like lightning. His name flew from her mouth in a hoarse cry. 

Jaw falling open, he grunted his pleasure as her core sucked him deeper with every rhythmic pulse. God, she felt even more incredible. Sarah was already the best he’d ever had, and now, the sex had just gotten better. How was that possible? 

Gripping the sheets, he held on for her, moaning and muttering about how good she felt coming around him.

Sarah was mesmerized by him. His eyes were shut now, the skin around them taut, but his jaw was lax, nearly hanging open. His arms flexed, mountains and valleys of muscle on either side of her, straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

Electricity was still buzzing faintly through her veins, even as her high ebbed away. She couldn’t wait any longer to fulfill his fantasy.

“Come on me, Quinn.” 

Breath lodged in his throat and his eyes flew open, frantically searching her face. “You're sure?”

“Yes. I want you to. Come on me,” she repeated, running her fingers up her chest as an example. 

In a rush of want, he planked above her, quickly tugging on his cock, slick with her arousal, until he exploded, painting a sticky white line up her chest.

She seemed to preen under the assault, arching her back and moaning as if it was something she’d been waiting her whole life for. It was one of the hottest things he'd ever seen.  

“Fuuuck,” he groaned as his limbs turned to jelly. 

He managed to lower himself on top of her without dropping, feeling his cum slick between their skin. 

“Holy shit, that was so hot,” he panted against her mouth. 

In a few minutes time, Sarah knew she'd be squirming for a shower, but for now, she felt extremely gratified with fulfilling this fantasy for him. She smiled, replaying the look of shocked elation on his face when she requested it.

Tracing her fingers up the bumps of his spine, she took in a deep breath and let it sigh out of her lungs, reveling in the weight of his body on hers. 

Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head, arching an eyebrow. “Where did all of this come from?”

“All what?” 

He traced a finger through the valley of her breasts, gathering some of his cum. “This,” he said, “you’re little exhibitionist streak when I came on you.”

“Oh,” she somehow blushed despite her flushed skin. “I wanted to be good for you. You’re so good to me all the time, I want you to feel that, too.” 

That simple statement, her admittance that she did it for him, made his head spin. How could he have ever thought what he had with June was love? He saw now how a love that met you half way blew her idea of love, which he knew now was more about control, out of the water. 

A few minutes later, Sarah’s sweaty, post-sex skin began to itch. “Shower?” she asked. 

“Snacks,” Quinn countered, his head still resting on the front of her shoulder. 

A laugh shook her chest, “shower then snacks.”

He supposed it could work.

A short while later, they were in the kitchen, and Quinn was having an argument with himself.

They needed to have a conversation, but it was terrible timing. He didn’t want her to think he was only bringing it up because of what happened that night. At the same time, he was about to leave for five days on the road, and the family skate wasn’t that much longer after that, and he was so tired of introducing her as the girl he was seeing. Sarah was more than that, now. It didn’t fit anymore and it was too damn long to keep saying. 

If they didn’t talk about it now, he worried there wouldn’t be enough time.

He glanced at her. She was wearing a shirt with a funny little cartoon of a fork and a spoon that said, ‘Spooning leads to forking’ along with a pair of matching shorts. Her thighs were bare and lovely in the dim light as she sat on the counter, eating a piece of cheese she’d stolen from the sandwich he was building for them to split. 

He put the top piece of bread on, and decided he should just blurt it out. He didn’t think there would be a better way. And the longer he waited, the harder it would be to bring up.

“What do you think about being my girlfriend?” he said, looking up.

Her hand paused on the way to her mouth, the cheese missing an almost cartoon-like bite  — a little scalloped half moon cut into one corner.

“Am —” Sarah paused, wondering if this was some kind of a trick question. “Am I not?” 

“No,” he said before his brain caught up with him. “No, you are, but I mean, like, formally?” 

Her head tilted to one side, “Of course. I’ve been thinking of you as my boyfriend for a few weeks now. Pretty much since you met Trav and the kids.”

A sigh breathed through him. 

“Did you think I was gonna say no?” 

“I don’t…I mean, I didn’t want you to think I was only bringing it up because of the unprotected sex thing.” 

“That is pretty terrible timing on your part,” she conceded, laughing. “It’s a good thing I…” she trailed off, stopping herself from continuing out loud. Why couldn’t she just come out and say it? So what if she was in her ridiculous pajamas in his kitchen? She’d brought them with her expressly because she thought they would make him laugh, and she’d been right. The delighted surprise that had escaped his mouth when he’d seen them was something she knew she’d treasure for a long time.

“A good thing you?” he repeated, hope ballooning in his chest. 

“It’s a good think I know you’re not just in it for the sex,” she said, lamely.

Quinn’s expression went from worried to distraught right before her eyes. “How could you think that?” he asked, his voice embarrassingly earnest.

“Quinn, I —” 

He cut her off, “I like so many things about you, Sarah. You’re smart and funny and you’re kind to everyone you meet, and you’re so dedicated to your work.” He was rambling now, but if she thought he was in this just for the sex? He would die of shame. 

“I like that you’ve never treated me like anything else but Quinn, and you’re always willing to meet me half way,” he said, his voice taking on an almost frantic quality as he tried to convey what she meant to him. “And I —” 

“Quinn.” 

The way she said his name made him stop short. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, her hand coming up to gently cup his jaw. “I was teasing. I know you’re not just in it for the sex. Someone who only wanted sex wouldn’t have waited four weeks to have it.” 

She had a valid point. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Quinn. Just as long as you can be my boyfriend.” 

“Deal,” he said, leaning in to kiss her, feeling as if someone had struck a match, setting his heart ablaze. 

Settling into bed, Quinn remembered he hadn’t told her yet. 

“Hey, my family’s coming in for the finals. They’ll be here on the 20th.” 

“Oh,” she said, obvious disappointment on her face.

“Is that not…okay?” 

Feeling her cheeks blaze, Sarah realized she hadn’t shared that expectation with him yet. “It’s just…my last final is that day and I’ve kind of been looking forward to you fucking me silly as a reward for finishing.”

His eyes went huge, “oh.”

“It's one of the ideas that's kept me going, honestly.”

“I could still do that,” he said, the words rushing out of his mouth.

“With your family in the house? I don't think so.”

“At yours then.”

“With my roommates there?”

He bit his lip. “We could get a hotel?”

“Because that's not weird when you have people, let alone family, staying at your house.”

“I’ll tell them to come a day later,” he offered. 

“Would they buy that without an explanation?”

“Would I have to give them one?”  

“I don't know. Would you? My family would want to know. You’ll have to make something up.”

“You don’t want me to tell them they can’t come on the 20th because my girlfriend finally finished her classes and wants to be fucked all night?” he teased. 

Giggling, she smacked his shoulder lightly, “I think I might die if your mom knew that about me,” she admitted, part of her mind still caught on the open way he used the girlfriend title. 

He laughed.“I’ll just tell them we have a late team meeting, or something so it would be better for them to come in on 21st. It’ll be fine.” 

Want more Quinn & Sarah? Check out the Snapshots Masterlist 

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[jm-2406]

Just a ring.

Summary - “he has asked me to marry him but I had to come here first. I need to know if you feel anything… anything at all for me.”

Pairing - Theodore Nott x reader; Male OC x reader.

Word count - 2150.

Warnings - infidelity, flashbacks in italics, grown up theo & reader.

Cursive words made their way across the document as he led the pen from left to right, every movement a study in perfection. A famous business wizard like Theodore Nott who hailed from a high class pure blood family, couldn't afford anything less than perfection. He pursed his lips as he focused on getting his signature just right, reading the already typed composition. Mergers, especially one as important as this one needed to be dealt with utmost care, and a very carefully crafted ‘brown nosing’ letter never hurt anyone.

He was feeling very pleased with his efforts when a loud noise from outside his office startled him. Throwing an angry glare towards the closed door, he cursed the person who disturbed him.

“You can't go in there Miss. He's very busy.” His secretary's voice reached his ears. “To hell with his schedule. I don't care.” The other voice responded sharply and he knew who that other person was. He mentally prepared himself for the upcoming drama, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I'm sorry Mr. Nott, this—this Woman refused to make an appointment. Should I escort her out?”

Theodore eyed the girl in front of him; she stared back defiantly, challenging him. He wouldn't throw her out but that didn't mean that he couldn't make her sweat. The young woman in front of him started to fidget nervously the longer Theodore kept staring at her without a word. “It's okay Riya. You're excused.” The woman heaved a sigh of relief at his words.

Theodore turned to her and said coldly. “Now, to what do I owe the pleasure? What is it, [Y/L/N]? Say your piece and spare me. I am too busy to hear your rambling right now.”

[Y/N] scoffed, wrapping her arms around herself as if she was trying to protect herself from his coldness. “Wow. So you can speak more than three words at a time and just my luck that you use them to dismiss me. ‘[Y/L/N]’, ‘my piece’... You are so intolerable Theodore.”

“Then why are you here, love?” He retorted flippantly but her next words made him stop his work.

“He knows…”

“Who knows what, [Y/N]?”

“Alex… he found your waistcoat under the bed… the one you forgot to put on because of some ‘important’ business.” She confessed, her voice shaky. She paused and then opened her mouth to continue, her voice cracking. “He didn't even ask who it belonged to. He said that it didn't matter. He blamed himself, you know…For being gone so often.”

Theodore kept staring at the papers on his desk, completely still. He didn't know what kind of response she was expecting but his mind went blank. He was about to say something when she dropped the final bomb. “He has asked me to marry him.”

Her eyes finally rose up from the floor. He could feel her willing him to look back at her; willing him to show any emotion. But the man kept staring at his desk, forcing himself to pick up the document and continue his letter.

“I haven't answered him yet.” She admitted, “I had to come here first. I had to see you, but you've been avoiding me and… I just need to know if you feel anything, anything at all for me.” She waited for him to respond, waited for any sign from him but he was as cold as ice and just as frozen as he signed his name at the end of his letter.

He continued his work robotically and took a breath only after hearing her footsteps shuffling closer to the door. “I meant what I said that night… I still do.” She whispered and then she was gone, missing the look that crossed his face.

After crying her heart out, [Y/N] kept staring at the end of the room blankly, her mind still stuck on everything that has happened in her life recently. “I am stronger than this.” She whispered to herself. Her head fell against the back of the couch, and she curled a leg up beside her, wrapping her arms around it as she glanced out the window.

It never should have happened, she knew that now, but she still couldn't bring herself to regret that it had. It had all started about six months ago, she and Alex had been having a lot of arguments around that time.

“You promised!” She raised her voice, fed up with his attitude.

“I know babe but this is urgent.” Alex said softly, trying to pacify her but it made her angrier instead.

“Fine. Go wherever you want to. Do whatever you want. But I am not going to keep changing my plans according to you every time. I am going to attend the Christmas Eve party… with or without you.”

“No. You can't do that [Y/N]. What will they say? My reputation will be thrashed.”

“Oh I can and I will. If you care about your ‘reputation’ then come to the event with me.” She asked one last time but only got a shake of head in return as Alex took his briefcase and apparated.

There at the party, [Y/N] found herself in the company of none other than Theodore Nott, one of the Slytherin guys from a year above her. She had never interacted with him outside of the classes. Though she didn't trust him, she couldn't disagree that the man was charming. A few drinks later, she found herself up against a wall in one of the vast deserted hallways, moaning and thoroughly enjoying herself with a man that most definitely was not her boyfriend. That was how it all started.

Secret correspondence and casual meetings followed. Every time she would receive one of his notes or calls, she would hesitate and every time she gave in. She couldn't stop herself; he made her feel passionate, naughty, and desirable. It was everything she never felt with Alex thus she became addicted.

Over time, their pattern seemed to change. It started with simple words after they were intimate and soon she found herself spending nights in his house. It went to a point where she would see Alex maybe once in two or three weeks for a date and spend almost every other day with Theodore.

After sometime she realized that her feelings for the two men had begun to change. Theodore had become her confidant and lover. On the other hand she found herself forgetting about the dates with Alex, arriving late when he called her, zoning out when he talked to her. She was figuring out what to do when the unexpected happened.

They were lying in his bed, quietly content after a night full of activity when her lips, engaged by a sleepy mind, betrayed her. “I think… I love you.” Time froze. In one swift movement, her lover had stood from the bed and had placed his robe around his shoulders, apparating away.

She remembered how she had sat there; hurt and humiliated beyond belief. It had taken all the strength and courage that she could muster to get dressed and leave that night. That was two weeks ago.

Truth to be told, when Alex had found Theodore's waistcoat under her bed, she felt relieved. Everything would be out in the open, she could move on but once again reality turned out to be quite different than her thoughts. Alex opened up to her about his behaviour and promised to work less, be with her more and that he wanted to marry her. Before she could blink, he was down on his knee, proposing to her.

“I… I need time, Alex.”

Now here she was, lamenting unrequited love and cursing her fate.

A week later -

[Y/N] pushed open the door of her flat with a tired sigh. She tossed her shoes into their space in her coat closet with one hand as she released the clip that held her hair with the other. Moving towards the kitchen cabinet, she uncorked the wine bottle and took a sip directly from the bottle.

“Long day?” A deep voice asked her.

She turned on her feet and observed the man in front of her. Theodore was sitting on the couch as if he owned the place. “What. Do. You. Want?” She asked slowly, proud of the bitterness in her voice. “Theodore…”

He didn't verbally respond; calling her to him with a gesture of his hands. She wanted to shout at him but she couldn't. He made her weak. He reached up with his fingers for her left hand, his thumb brushing over the plain gold band that sat there.

“I'm engaged…” She tried to stop the teasing fingertips from continuing their journey of exploring her body.

“Well… you're not married yet. It's just a ring.” He whispered, holding her face to make her look at him. She felt the pads of his fingertips gripping the ring on her third finger and slowly sliding it off. A metallic clink resonated in her ears as the ring fell to the floor.

The fight drained out of her as she sunk into her lover's arms. Her knees folding under her as his lips joined with hers. She knew that this night would be their final goodbye.

“Where is your engagement ring?”

“I… I must have forgotten it.”

“Forgotten it? On the night of our engagement party?” Alex questioned incredulously. They were interrupted by some other guests and they easily fell into the conversation, saving [Y/N] from trying to come up with more lies.

“How are you doing, Codnor?” Another voice interrupted the couple. Alex cursed seeing the person who disturbed his conversation with his fiancèe.

“How did you even enter, Nott? This is an invitation only party so kindly leave before I kick you out.”

Theodore smirked, raising his closed fist over [Y/N]'s glass of champagne. One by one he uncurled his fingers, dropping something small and shiny. Alex had a look of confusion and shock on his features as he realized that in the glass was [Y/N]'s engagement ring.

“I know I wasn't invited, Codnor, but I am here to collect what's mine… don't look so shocked. She hasn't been yours for a while.”

Before she could think, Alex punched Theodore, hard… and a fight started between the two. Alex's parents changed the topic and sent the guests on their way to save their image of respectful people. It wasn't until [Y/N] physically pulled Theodore back that he stopped. Even though Alex was almost as tall as Theodore, he was no match for his muscles and strength.

“When did this… this thing start? Tell me everything, [Y/N]… honestly this time.” Alex pleaded.

“Six months ago. I was angry at you and I know it is wrong but… when I did go to the party, alone, no one paid any attention to me. Didn't even greet me with a simple ‘hello’. I felt as though I was only someone if I was with you. I felt so worthless. Theodore was at the party. He annoyed me and I took my anger out on him… I don't know how but the next thing I remember is kissing him; one thing lead to another and here we are… I am sorry Alex. I don't deserve you.”

Alex scoffed. He left immediately after throwing the ring down. His mouth did not say a word but his eyes conveyed the anger and disgust he was feeling at her.

[Y/N] turned to Theodore. “Well. It was a long day. Thank you for ruining my engagement party. Now I think we should go.” She stood from her chair but Theodore pulled her back by her wrist, making her sit on his lap. “What is it?” She asked him.

“You asked me that day, if I feel anything at all for you. The answer is, I don't. I feel everything for you, Miss [Y/N] [Y/L/N].” He said cupping her face in his hands and pressed his lips on hers.

She smiled in their kiss knowing for sure that the man whom she gave her heart to would do everything in his power to keep her safe and happy now that he finally realised what she meant to him.

THE END.

Note - i have written a Tommy Shelby version of this one, you can find it here if you are interested. I thought this one screams “Theo” so why not make a Theo version too.

[writing-till-i-am-dead]

Stargoth oneshot - Ice Skating

“Seriously, Deacon?” Chase grumbled. “You just had to get close to the pony at the fair.”

Deacon glared at Chase before lifting up his bandaged arm, healing from being broken by an angry miniature pony. “Hey, remember! You can’t talk! I jinxed you earlier!”

“Ya, I think that cancelled out when you yelled my name out in pain a little over three times when that pony kicked you.”

Chase sighed and shook his head. “Guess I’ll be doing the work on my own for a bit until you heal up..”

Deacon sank into his bed, grumbling under his bed. 

Chase looked over at Bronze. “Keep an eye on him?”

Bronze shrugged. “Got nothing better to do.”

Chase picked up Silver and smiled at her. “Ready for this?”

She smiled and did a curtsy. “Always!”

Chase reached for a random book, merely glancing at the title before inserting the key. 

When he opened his eyes, he felt like he was in Christmas Town from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

He looked at his outfit. A skin tight blue suit with a fur collar, puffballs, and a mid length cape with a snowflake theme. 

“Another great outfit, Silver!” he said happily. He took a step and nearly fell. That’s when he realized he’s also wearing ice skates and he’s on a frozen pond. 

“Oh shoot. I haven’t ice skated in years..” He slapped his face and shook his head. “No matter! For I am Chase Hollow, and I can do anything!”

He attempted to glide over the ice, but instead face planted. That was when he heard skrrrrch coming his way. He looked up and really wish he hadn’t. 

“Buddy,” he said bluntly.

“Did you seriously choose a story like this when you don’t even know how to ice skate?” Buddy asked, raising a smug eyebrow.

“I know how to skate! Just.. rusty!” he grumbled as he struggled to get to his feet. 

“Mhm..”

Chase finally managed to get to his feet and looked at Buddy. 

Ugh. One of the most frustrating things about hating this absolute tool is that Chase finds him extremely hot. 

He can’t help it! Goth guys have always been his type!

And with Buddy’s low cut black shirt with navy trim and a black and white cloak barely covering his shoulders to show off the fishnet undershirt he was wearing underneath.. ya, Chase felt like his heart would burst out of his chest. 

Whatever! The black snowflake tiara that he was wearing was lame and that’s all he decided to focus on. 

“So,” Buddy started. “Where’s your little sidekick?”

“Huh?”

“You never seem to go into a story without him anymore.”

“He’s.. busy for a bit.”

“Busy? If you have the responsibility of being a key holder, you can’t afford to be busy.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Go outside and touch grass. Maybe that’ll make you less of a prick,” he said before turning and skating away. 

The entire kingdom seemed to be on ice, all the villagers also wearing ice skates as they made their way around town. 

Doesn’t that get exhausting, though? Chase wondered. 

He looked around, wondering what he had to do to trigger the story. 

That’s when he spotted it. A sign for The Royal Ice Skating Challenge. 

“That seems plot important,” he murmured to himself as he skated closer to the sign to get a better look at it.

“In the Icicle Forest. Where’s that?” he thought. He looked around, hoping to find a road of some sort. But no. No land in sight. Not even a forest. Just. Ice. He felt like he was playing in a superflat Minecraft world right now. 

“The prince!” Shouted one villager. “He’s here!”

Here we go… Chase thought as he mentally prepared himself to deal with another boring prince. 

“Hello!” he said to the overly sparkly man (and Chase loves sparkles, but this guy was seriously overdoing it). 

“Ah! Hello. You are a baker?” he asked, gesturing at what the heroine character must’ve been wearing. 

“Yepppp. That’s me. Listen, I was wondering if I could join your ice skating challenge thing!”

“Oh! Why of c-!”

But he was cut off by Gothy McGothFace, who skated to the prince’s side. 

“Really, sir? Are you really going to let a peasant join the challenge?”

“I.. well, why wouldn’t I, Iclyn?”

Iclyn? Chase thought. What an on the nose name. What, is my name something like Frosta?

“Frosta!” shouted a voice from behind him. “Come inside and help serve the customers!”

Chase groaned slightly and glared at ‘IcLyN’ before skating off to whoever was calling him. 

“I gotta find out where that Ice Skating Competition will be..” he said quietly to himself. He saw the lady who called to him, who was shaking her head. 

“Your father is getting tired of you always running off, Frosta.”

“Oh, um, sorry.. mom?” he guessed. 

She sighed and ruffled his hair. “It’s all right. Just get to your station.”

He touched the spot she had ruffled, processing the motherly affection before forcing himself to snap out of it. 

She’s not your real mom, Chase. He forced himself to think. 

“Hey, mom. Where’s the Icicle Forest from here?”

“Now, Frosta, why would you need to know that?”

“Uh. Some competition.”

“The Royal Ice Skating Competition? Frosta, honey, why would you want to do that? You know there’s no possible way you can win.”

“What?! But mom-!” Chase had heard those words too many times. ‘Chase, you are never going to be a singer. Give up.’ The only person who believed in him 100% was.. his mom. 

“No, mom. I will win! And I’ll prove it to you when I bring home the trophy.”

“Trophy? The prize is a tiara.”

“Um.. I’ll bring home the tiara!”

She sucked in her lips for a moment, furrowing her eyebrows before sighing. “But Frosta. Your skating is.. mediocre at best.”

Even though he wasn’t really Frosta and this wasn’t really his mom, he had to admit, that stung. 

“Yknow what? I don’t need you! I’ll find the forest on my own!”

He turned and bolted out the door. He tried to slow down when he panicked at his speed, but had too much momentum and slammed into another house. 

“Ow..”

“Ohhh,” said that annoyingly familiar voice. “That’s gotta sting.”

“You’re not as cool as you think you are.”

Buddy arched an eyebrow. “Pun not intended, I should hope?”

“No, pun absolutely intended. I’m no coward.”

“I..” he shook his head and pinched his brow. “Nevermind.”

Chase got back to his feet and brushed off his clothes, even if there was no dust to brush off. 

“I just need to find where the Icicle Forest is and I’m all set.”

“Mhm. Well, good luck with that.”

“Hey, hey, hey!! Do you know where it is?”

He tilted his head and arched his eyebrow. “Why, I don’t know. Do I? I don’t have the Helper Key.”

“Ughhhh…”

He watched as Buddy skated off into the distance. He looked around the town for some sort of map. 

“Do you know where I can find a map to the Icicle Forest?” he asked one villager. 

“Oh Frosta, why would you need to get there?”

“Because I’m joining the competition.”

“Silly girl. You know you won’t win.”

That was basically every conversation he had when he asked for help. 

People seriously treat me, er, her, pretty shitty.

He groaned and leaned against a building wall, sitting on the freezing ground. Just when he was about to give up hope, he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Sweetie.”

He turned to the voice and saw a little old lady standing over him. 

“Oh, uh-“

She sighed. “Your mother told me about your plan.”

He gave her a suspicious look. “You going to try and talk me out of it?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “No, no. I think it’s a great idea. But you should practice on your figure skating a bit more.”

He felt like letting out a long groan. “But the competition-!”

“Is tomorrow. You can spend all day and night practicing. Listen to grandma.”

“I… right. Sorry.. grandma.”

She helped him up and he looked around anxiously. “Where do I practice?”

“Anywhere, sweetie. The world is your rink.”

He thought about that for a moment. He was starting to realize how badly his ankles were hurting from skating this entire time. Geez, that hurts.. But he forced himself to ignore it. 

He went to find a clear area, which wasn’t too hard. (Seriously, this place is so empty, it’s almost eerie)

He closed his eyes and tried to remember any figure skating he may have seen. But the only form of figure skating he’s ever seen was from Yuri On Ice. 

He tried to lift his leg up as high as he could, but he felt like his back was going to snap. 

He heard a laugh behind him and he whipped his head around, expecting to see that annoying fucker, but instead he saw the prince from earlier. 

“You are.. quite bad,” he said, laughing. 

Chase crossed his arms and glared at him. “Thanks,” he said sarcastically. 

“No, I mean it in a playful way. Say, would you like some help?”

He gave him a confused look. “Why would you help me?”

“In all honesty.. I would rather have anyone win but Iclyn.”

“Really? Why?”

“She said is she wins she will make me her husband. I.. would rather not have that.”

“Oh. Oh! So, like, team up to make sure she loses?”

“That is what I was hoping for,” he said, nodding. 

“Well, that benefits me too. So I’m in!”

Him and the prince shook hands. 

The rest of that day, the prince helped Chase on forms and jumps and all that other stuff. He had to admit, this was probably the best prince he’s met, even if he was overly sparkly. 

But Chase couldn’t help the feeling that someone was watching them. But everytime he looked around, he didn’t see anyone. 

They practiced until it was pitch black outside, the moonlight reflecting on the ice, casting a faint silver glow. 

“You’re amazing, Frosta,” the prince said. “I know you’ll do great tomorrow.”

Chase smiled at the praise. After a whole day of people beating him down, the compliments really helped lift his spirits. 

“Thanks. I should be heading home now. To rest.”

“Yes. Have a good rest of your night.”

Chase waved goodbye as he skated off, smiling. That was actually really fun. 

As he approached his house, he felt a figure loom over him. 

He turned and just as he did, Buddy pinned him to the wall. 

“What were you doing?”

“Hey! Let me go! I was just practicing my skating!”

“With the prince?”

“Ya! What, is that not part of the story?!”

“It.. is. But you were really enjoying yourself out there.”

“Ya, I wa- Wait. Were you spying on us?!”

“Of course I was. Nothing goes unseen,” he hissed.

“Ugh, you’re such a creep!” he exclaimed before shoving him away. 

“Ugh. Whatever. I don’t care, anyways!”

He watched as Buddy skated away. Chase clenched his fists and huffed. 

But you do care.. he thought. 

Inside the house was a hard wood floor. Where they got the wood to even build these places was beyond Chase’s knowledge, but he didn’t thinking about it as he collapsed onto the floor, his feet and ankles swollen and sore. 

So tired…

Before he even knew it, he found himself passed out on the floor, snoring away. 

By the morning, he was woken up to a gentle shaking. He slowly opened his eyes and found the old lady from earlier waking him up. 

“Frosta. Wake up. You need to prepare for the challenge.”

“Ughhh…” he sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling like absolute shit. His feet were still sore and his knees were shaky. 

He sat up and rubbed his ankles and calves in an attempt to soothe the absolute pain, and to apologize to them for the fact that he’s about to put them through more torture. 

He stood up reluctantly and the old lady handed him a slate of ice. 

“It’s a map to the Icicle Forest. Stay safe, Frosta. I believe in you!”

He smiled at the encouragement. “Thanks. I’ll, uh.. I’ll see you when I win!”

He put on the ice skates and followed the map. There was nothing out in this field. The most interesting thing he’s managed to spot it is that there is an ocean. But no landmarks, which was weird. 

Until he saw it in the distance. 

A forest made of ice spikes jutting upwards, and instead of grass, there was huge, random patches of snow. 

He entered the strange biome and looked around but seeing nothing specifically. But this place did cast some weird shadows. 

“Now where in the forest is this competition..?”

He felt like he was wandering for hours. And then he looked up at the sky and realized he hadbeen wandering for hours. 

“NOOO! Where AM I?!”

“Lost?” a voice purred behind him. 

He turned and internally groaned. “Buddy.”

“Heh. Of course you would manage to get lost so easily.”

“Oh ya? And what are you doing here?”

“You were taking so long to arrive. I got curious. The competition starts in an hour, yknow?”

“Ya, I know,” he hissed. “Just lead me to there! Don’t you want to get this story over with too?”

Buddy thought for a moment. “I dunno. The ending to this story is rather unappealing to me.”

“What? You lose? That happens to you in every story.”

“It’s not just that I lose. There’s some more to it.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind,” he said, shaking his head. “Forget about it.”

Chase watches as Buddy seemed to glide over the ice like it was nothing. Like he was almost weightless. 

“Cmon. Just lead the way, please.”

He narrows his eyes before shaking his head and sighing. “Fine. Follow me..”

Chase jumped a little, which nearly cost him his balance as he followed him. 

“Man, this place is a lot colder than the village.”

“Yes, well, with an outfit like your’s, it’s no surprise you’re getting so cold so easily.”

“Hey! Your’s isn’t any better!”

“Well, I’m naturally cold, so I have nothing to worry about.”

“Tsk. Prick..” Chase grumbled. 

He attempted to just ignore the cold, but the deeper and deeper they went in, the colder it got. Even Buddy seemed affected by it, as he was inching bit by bit closer to Chase, shivering slightly. 

“Thought you were naturally cold, Mr. Emo Snowman,” Chase said sarcastically. 

“Shut up. We’re almost there.”

“Geez, why did they pick the coldest area for this stupid contest? This is some bull!”

“Whining will get you no where.”

“Oh, it’ll get me somewhere, all right. It’ll get me right on your nerves.. I-I’m getting on your nerves, is what I’m trying to say.”

“Ughhh! You are so stupid..”

Chase glared at him and shoved him into the snow. “I don’t need your sour attitude! Or your insults!”

“Why you little-!”

But before Buddy had a chance to get up and shove him back, there was a loud sound of skates cutting along ice. 

“You two!” said a man in knightly clothes. “Are you here for the skating contest?”

“Ummm… yes,” Chase said, quickly fixing his hair. “Yes we are!”

“Well, hurry along! It starts soon!”

Chase scrambled to follow after him, Buddy doing the same thing, shooting cold glares in Chase’s direction. 

They reached an opening in the ‘forest’. Fairylights hug from icicle to icicle, illuminating the area with a glow bouncing off the ice. 

Chase spotted the prince off in the distance and he smiled widely and waved over to him, Buddy glaring daggers into him and smacking Chase’s hand down. 

“Ah-? Hey!” 

But Buddy just rolled his eyes and skated away, as if he wasn’t being infuriating on purpose. 

Chase went up to the prince. 

“Are you ready, Frosta?”

“Born ready!”

“Thank you for working so hard on this. Truly. I am so scared I’d have to marry Iclyn.”

“Yaaa.. say, what is so bad about her, anyways?”

“She’s so possessive and clingy, despite the fact that we’re not even together. She’s aggressive to anyone who shows any interest in me. It’s all so annoying.”

“I see..” Weird. Buddy is also kinda like that..

He looked out at the opening, fresh ice, skaters preparing for their own routines. 

“Are you ready, Frosta?”

“Ya!”

“Are you pumped?!”

“Ya!!”

He looked out at the opening again and saw Buddy going out. He’s about to do his routine. 

I’m actually kind of curious..

He decided to watch intensely. And.. perhaps he felt himself getting a little too immersed in the dance as he watch Buddy dip low to the ice, spinning around as his dark hair flowed in the wind, sweat flying from his face and his sharp blue eyes hard with focusing. 

And.. ya, he never got so excited by a figure skating leaping, but somehow Buddy managed to absolutely grab his full attention. 

After the performance, Chase looked around, seeing if there was anyone who was absolutely hypnotized by the performance. But, instead, everyone looked bored. 

“It was kind of a boring performance.”

“I’ve seen those same things but done much more interestingly.”

Chase was surprised by everyone’s remarks. Was he the oddball for being so into it? Or is the people being unimpressed just part of the story?

He looked at Buddy’s face and realized..

No. 

Those reactions weren’t meant to be part of the story. Buddy’s face said it all. It was a mediocre performance by professional standards. 

And Chase could see that Buddy was doing everything he could to suppress the anger. Chase.. knew what that was like. He was often met with the same reactions for his singing. He hated it too.. he hated it a lot..

As the two skated past each other, Chase paused. “Your performance was very impressive, Buddy.”

Buddy paused and clenched his fists before letting out a scoff-laugh. “Yes, thank you, Frosta,” he said back, almost bitterly. 

Geez.. just trying to be nice..

Chase skated toward the center and waved out to the crowd. He prepared and struck a pose. He didn’t have a lot of time to create a whole routine. Do, instead he may or may not have.. stolen his. 

Yes, that’s right. He, Chase Hollow, had to steal a routine from Yuri On Ice, performing Yuri’s Eros routine. He’s not proud to admit that he’s plagiarizing. 

But still. He was having so much fun performing it. He looked over at Buddy while he was performing and he noticed him staring.. really intensely, which did make Chase nervous, causing the performance to get sloppy. 

But once he was done, there was an eruption of applause and cheering. 

“Yes! Yes! Thank you! I know, I’m amazing!”

He skated over to Buddy, smiling proudly and smugly. 

“Was that performance.. from Yuri On Ice?”

“EH-!” He froze, standing there as he processed being called out. 

“Weeb…” Buddy murmured before skating off. 

…. WHAT A JERK! Wait a minute…

“HOW DID YOU RECOGNIZE WHAT IT WAS FROM UNLESS YOU KNOW THE ROUTINE FROM HEART AS WELL!?” he called out. 

He could’ve sworn he saw Buddy’s ears turn red, but he just ignored him. 

“Frosta!” he heard a voice yell out from behind him. “The judges announced you as the winner!”

“Really? Wait, but only me and Iclyn performed, was there no one else in the competition-?” he decided to just put it at ‘nevermind’, so stories can be weirdly short and very unspecific or muddy with the details. 

The prince held up a gorgeous silver tiara and placed it onto his head. 

“Frosta. You are.. fantastic. I’m so proud of you!” The prince blushed slightly. 

There’s the rushed romantic feelings. Chase thought. 

“I hope you continue to skate!”

“Hm? Well. Thanks. I’ll… do that. But for now, I gotta go show my mom this tiara that I won. She underestimated me and I’m going to rub it in her face.”

“Ah.. well. Have fun with that, Frosta..” he said awkwardly with a crooked smile. 

He waved off to the prince. The trek through the forest wasn’t nearly as awful as it was last time, actually knowing where he was supposed to go now. Though, the cold had just hit him, causing him to shiver so hard he nearly lost balance on his skates. 

He saw the village in the distance and he nearly burst into tears. His legs were in so much pain and he just wanted to sit down. 

As he entered the town, the villagers looked out at him and smiled at him. 

“Frosta! We heard about the competition!”

“We’re so proud of you!”

“We knew you could do it!”

Eh?!? You literally had 0 faith in me winning! Don’t you lie to me!

He spotted the bakery Frosta’s mom owned. 

Time to go show off my prize! Haha!

But just before he opened the door, a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him aside. 

“You..” Buddy said darkly. 

“Ah! Hey, what the hell-?!”

“I can’t let this final half of the story play out.”

“What are you talking about! Ugh, let me go!”

But then he noticed the look on Buddy’s face. Almost terrified. 

“Buddy? Geez, why are you acting like this? Isn’t this just like every other fairytale ending? What, do I die or something?”

“No, it’s just..”

He was cut off by a blaring trumpet. They turn to see the prince and 2 knights skating into the village. 

Frosta’s mom pokes her head out of the shop upon hearing the noise. 

She spots Chase and gasps upon seeing the crown. 

“Frosta?!”

“Oh, uh.. hey mom! TOLD YOU I’D WIN!!”

“Frosta!” called out the prince, gesturing for him to come forward. 

Chase shot one final glare at Buddy before breaking away from him and heading to the prince, ready for this story to finally be over with. 

“Hellllo prince,” Chase said, waving. 

What happened next, he didn’t expect. The prince grabbed him by the arm and pulled him into a hug. 

“Woah, uh, personal space there, dude-“

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were my long lost fiancé?”

“….HUH?!”

Wait, I’m his what now!?

“Oh, uh, yknow, haha, just, I, um..”

“I can’t believe you had run away.”

“Oh, uhhhhhhhh…”

This is what I get for never reading the stories!!

“But I remember you told me we would reunite.” The prince grasped Chase’s face and pulled him into.. A KISS?!

“PLEGHHH! UGHH, DUDE! WHY?!”

“It was meant to be a.. a kiss to, yknow.. say hello again.”

“STILL! YOU DON’T JUST KISS SOMEONE WITHOUT PERMISSION! UGH! THAT WAS MY FIRST KISS!”

Behind Chase was a thudding noise. 

He turns to see Buddy on his knees, sulking dramatically. 

“Aw, and what’s up with you, mall goth?!?”

“The kiss was unavoidable,” he said, his voice strained. 

“Hah?”

Buddy didn’t answer, instead pulling out his key. 

“Hey, where are you going?!”

Buddy didn’t answer before disappearing. 

I’ve never seen him react like that to.. anything!

He tightly closed his eyes to think about the matter at hand. He turned to the prince. “You!! At first I thought you were pretty bearable for a prince, but you had to ruin it with your overall lack of care for consent!”

“But, Frosta-“

“Oh, don’t FrOsTa me, you big creep!!”

Chase pulled out his key. “I think I’m done with this story, I’m going home!”

“Wait, but-!”

He didn’t hear what he had to say as he woke up in his bedroom. 

“Ughhh… and here I thought that prince wasn’t too bad.”

“Oh, you’re back!” Deacon said, poking his head in. “How was it?”

“It was fine at first! But then the Prince got all grabby. And, honestly, so did Buddy.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Well, Buddy grabbed me and pinned me to a wall, like, twice. And he said he didn’t want the story to be complete. Like, huh?! Since when has he never wanted to properly finish a story?!”

“Ok.. and what did the prince do?”

“Well, after that whole thing with Buddy, the prince showed up and made me kiss him!”

“Oh ya. That’s how the story ends, to seal the deal of their marriage or whatever. Wait. Buddy didn’t want the story to end.. how did he react after the prince kissed you.”

“I dunno. He was sulking I think? He disappeared before I had a chance to talk to him.”

“….Uhuh…”

“What? What is it?”

Deacon sighed and shook his head. “You are so dense…”

Divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[bloodlust-1]

The Consort ₊⁺જ⁀➴

NSWF | Explicit 18+ | Angst | Blood | Ascended Astarion | Spawn Tav | Dark | Smut | Trauma | Stockholm Syndrome | Violence

Ascended Astarion x fem Tav

Chapter: 10 | Deceit

Summary: In a tumultuous tale of love, power, and betrayal, Tav finds herself entangled in a complex relationship with Astarion, a heartless vampire lord who will stop at nothing to maintain control over his newfound spawn. As Tav witnesses Astarion’s transformation and descent into darkness, their love is put to the ultimate test amidst love triangles, drama, and the pursuit of world domination. Redemption seems like an elusive goal while Tav grapples with the realization of who her lover has truly become.

Notes: hi hi!! This month has been super busy for me BUT I'M BACK AT IT AGAIN! >:D enjoy reading tho ~ Unedited atm

AO3 LINK | MASTER LIST

Lovely photo by @astarionposting

In an almost scolding shocked tone, Tav exclaimed, “Astarion..!” Her eyes widened as she gazed at the shimmering rings in his hand, then back at him. The sunlight twinkled off the rings.

Astarion was never the sentimental type for events like these. Being undead for so long tainted many things people would celebrate.

Was he doing this for me…?

He thought about me…

Tav’s mind raced with questions and emotions, and she finally mustered the words, “Y-You did this for me, Astarion?” Her voice quivered with a mix of surprise and joy.

With a soft smile playing on his lips, “I know you care about it a lot, love. I would do anything in my power to give you everything.” He cleared his throat, His voice showed a hint of vulnerability. And with a sassy remark, “Now — do you accept my proposal?”

“Of course, Star!” Tav gave a fangy smile as she threw herself onto Astarion, causing them to fall back together.

Astarion’s expression shifted from surprise to pure joy, hugging each other before composing themselves. Tav extended her hand, and Astarion gently took it, sliding the gold band around her finger and then his own.

As he slipped the ring on Tav’s finger, a tingling sensation scratched along her skin.

Ouch...It kinda hurts.

“There. Just as beautiful as its owner,” Astarion stared down at her hand in his, admiring the jewelry.

“It’s very pretty, but why -“ Tav began to question but was instantly cut off.

“The slight discomfort? You’ll get used to it." A hint of possessiveness in his eyes, he smirked while clutching her hand, "There’s a sharp edge in the band; if pulled the right way...Well - you get the idea."

"You see, my wife, it’s meant to be worn and never taken off. If you do, you’ll feel its sting,”

A ring that cuts you if taken off.

It was so....him.

With a challenging smirk of her own, "Aren't you just soo poetic." Tav adjusted the ring with a nod and a smile.

I like the sound of that.

'My wife'

I must be just as twisted as him if I'm okay with this...

Tav peered into Astarion, her eyes shimmering with the sun's light. She fluttered her eyelashes, subtly baiting him into what she would say next. “I have a request,” she said softly.

Intrigued, "Yes?"

In a whisper, Tav leaned in closer, her breath softly dampening the skin of his ear, "Kiss me like how you used to."

His pupils dilated and a rush of nostalgia created a cold sweat down his back.

Astarion knew exactly what she meant - the sweet intimacy of their early days together when their love was just beginning to bloom. Back then, his kisses were shy, filled with a sweet innocence that was unlike their usual roughness.

Tav's request hung in the air, and Astarion blinked a few times, "I-I...Yes," He caught his words finally, "Of course, I can."

He was completely taken aback.

A kiss like before?

I'm way more confident now.

Why would she ever want that?

In that fleeting moment, Tav gazed up at Astarion with hopeful eyes and parted lips, she waited for him to take the bait.

Their lips met in a soft collision, weaving every emotion from the past to the present. It was so gentle that his lips tickled over hers as if Tav was made of glass.

Tav could feel Astarion's eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones, the phantom feeling of the softest kiss he's ever given sent chills all through her body.

Something about that old innocence melted her inside. She was like butter melting in the palm of his hands.

Astarion's hand rested in the crook of Tav's neck, tilting her head ever so slightly. He leaned into the kiss more and Tav's breath hitched in response.

It was starting to become more intense.

That softness Tav craved slowly washed away with each stroke of a kiss and she quickly pulled away with a small gasp, "W-Wait..."

He waited for her to speak, eyes dazed.

"Let's...not have sex."

Bluntly, "Why not?"

Tav scuffed into a chuckle, "Because intimacy doesn't have to always end with sex. I just want to enjoy my husband."

Her ears went floppy with a flush of her cheeks, "Even if I would enjoy that...very much...my point still stands."

Tav darted her eyes away until Astarion spoke, scared of how he might take it.

He tilted his head, intrigued, "Disappointing, darling, but granted."

Astarion gave a kiss to Tav's forehead. "Thank you."

200 years of sexual slavery still lingered from time to time. Trauma wasn't something Astarion could just throw away. It still very much lived deep within him.

Tav looked over her shoulder both ways, her eyebrow cocking up with disdain. "Love, have you noticed we're surrounded by Cazador's family headstones, right?"

Astarion narrowed his eyes with a single nod, "Indeed we are."

"Sounds - smashing." Tav winked at Astarion.

"Yes, it does." A sinister smile spread across his features and their eyes went dark.

~

DAYS LATER

Tav opened up the front doors, taking in a deep breath of cool air. The wind pushed back her hair in a gentle breeze. Just as she took a step forward, the crinkling noise crumbled beneath her feet.

a letter?

Tav picked the paper up. It was stamped with a red wax, a delicate hand-scripted name on the front in black ink.

Lord Ancunin.

Tav's eyebrow cocked up and just as she went to open it, Astarion snatched up the letter between her hands. His frame completely dominated her from behind.

"Hey..!" Tav crossed her arms with a puff of her cheeks.

Astarion shook his head with a chuckle, clearly amused by Tav's frustration, "Now, now, I'll share in just a moment."

*Rip*

Astarion flicked his wrist out, forcing the paper open with a loud 'pop'. His eyes were relaxed but they suddenly narrowed in concentration.

"hmm.."

"What?" Tav grabbed Astarion's shoulder, tip-toeing to get a glimspe of the letter, "Who is it from?"

Tav's questions came quicker than Astarion's answer and before she got the chance to ask one more, she saw at the bottom of the letter in the prettiest hand-writing she'd ever seen signed,

Rosaline.

Tav ripped the letter from Astarion's hands, "What does she want?" Tav's eyes skimmed threw the letter.

----------------------------------------------

Dear Lord Ancunin,

I am writing to invite you to meet over a bottle of wine at the Inn in the lower city. It would be of benefit to discuss matters of mutual interest in a more relaxed setting. I will be there at dusk.

Feel free to bring your partner along if you wish. Their presence would only add to the enjoyment of our gathering.

I look forward to see you and your partner,

Rosaline.

----------------------------------------------

Rosaline knew Cazador was no longer alive, but what did she want with Astarion so bad?

Hmph.

Tav crumbled the paper, annoyance on her features.

"Isn't someone jealous?" Astarion crossed his arms, leaning his shoulder against the door frame, "I quite like you like this - hah."

Clearly unamused Tav shook her head, "We're not going."

A cocky smile on his lips, "We're not? Are you sure about that? It's...cute - to think you make any of my networking choices."

"Nuh-uh. No way. Not with her."

Astarion heaved out a simple sigh, "Such a fussy little thing." He cocked up an eyebrow and shrugged off her unwillingness, "That's just too bad because we're going."

"Oh really?"

With a sassy tone, "Yees - really, am I supposed to show up alone?" Astarion flashed his hand, the gold band glittering in the light, "Especially with this? Hah - Never."

There was a cockiness in his voice and a daring glare that told Tav everything she needed to know. Astarion meant it and Tav instantly remembered her words to him: "I will learn to love you even if it pains me."

Tav shook her head of intrusive thoughts, "Okay, fine."

Maybe I should calm down a bit. I wouldn't want to come in between Astarion's business proposals.

But I still don't like her.

The first time Tav ever met Rosaline, she completely ignored her and swooped Astarion away with honeyed words. What if that happens again?

"Nothing says 'I love you' more than a jealous lover, scornful of anyone who bats an eye at me." Astarion grinned with a fangy smile. He loved seeing Tav get riled up over him. It made him feel wanted.

Tav went deadpanned with a grumble.

A total 'I will kill you' kind of face.

And all Astarion could do was relish in it, laughing and poking fun at Tav's obvious jealousy.

~

The sun dipped below the horizon, and Astarion and Tav made their way towards the Inn at dusk. Both dressed in formal attire, they stood out amongst the common folk.

Upon entering, they were greeted by a cacophony of noise and loud cheering crowds. And then the thick smell of ale hit them instantly.

Astarion's nose crinkled with disgust on his face, "This better be worth my time."

A man approached them, in a simple worker’s uniform. “Lord Ancunin, our esteemed guest has been waiting for you,” he said respectfully, gesturing for them to follow.

With a nod, Astarion and Tav fell into step behind him as he led them through the crowded common room toward a secluded area of the inn.

I don't care what Astarion says, the common area seemed waay more fun than where we were heading.

It was as if they had stepped into another world entirely. The atmosphere shifted dramatically - no rowdy people and loud laughter. Instead, they found themselves surrounded by snobs and people who exuded an air of wealth and power.

Tav gulped to herself.

I hate when people look at me all at once.

Obviously this space was reserved for those of high status, away from the commoners. Not that Tav wished to be here with snobby rich people.

They were soo stiff.

"Ah - Lord Ancunin, I'm happy you accepted my humble invitation," Rosaline called out to them and as they sat down across from her, she flashed a knowing smile.

Astarion, pulled out Tav's chair and she sat down wryly in Rosaline's presence.

"And you!" Rosaline lifted an eyebrow, scanning Tav up and down, "You must be Tav, Astarion's partner in crime, huh?" Her words ended off in a joking tone.

But Astarion pushed Tav's chair in and he flashed Rosaline his hand, showing off the new gold ring, "Her husband, actually." His face was completely unamused but not so much his tone. He loved to brag.

Astarion was more than happy to show off his new title.

Husband.

Deep down, Rosaline masked her shock with fake happiness as she clasped her hands together. But this didn't go unnoticed. Tav saw just how oddly Rosaline clutched onto her own hands so hard...The tips of her fingertips turned white, "Forgive me, I didn't know your title changed since the Waterdeep ball. How....exciting." Rosaline chuckled off the conversation.

Tav chimed in eyeing just how hard she was clutching her hands together, "Things change so quickly, I haven't even had the time to think of wedding plans."

"Is that so?" Rosaline blinked away her feelings and unclasped her hands, "You must! Weddings are quite the commitment."

She tilted her head with a smile, eyeing both Astarion and Tav. "I hope I'll be lucky to be on your invitation list."

Tav blushed at the thought but Astarion replied quickly, leaving no room for promise, "Perhaps...Although I would love for my wife to brag all night long about wedding ceremonies, I know I didn't come here for that."

"Straight to the point." She leaned back into her seat, reaching out to pick up the bottle of wine and pouring the alcohol into her glass. "I like it."

"You know a great deal about Cazador." Astarion leaned over the table, his expression unwavering.

Tav crossed her arms, chiming in after Astarion. "Start talking."

Rosaline took a sip of her wine, batting her eyelashes before gulping the drink. She took a moment and swirled the drink in hand, "Relax, the both of you. Have some wine and I will speak my peace."

Rosaline snapped at the waiter and they quickly scurried over, pouring their glass full of the red wine.

Tav rolled her eyes, "You're deflecting."

"Alright." With a cocky tone she began to lay everything out, "My name is Rosaline Bmuarr, I have a brother Ross; I'm sure you're already familiar with his company, Tav." Rosaline's eyes landed on Tav for a brief moment of silence.

Astarion narrowed his eyes and stared at Tav questionable before she continued to speak, "I've been aware of Cazador's true form for some time now. I, myself, was planning on ending him and the rest of his kin. All those poor souls." Rosaline paused and stared like daggers at Astarion, "But suddenly he dies along with his spawn...and do you know the most interesting part?"

On guard, Astarion listened carefully to her words, "Speak."

"That everyone is dead except one." Chin in palm Rosaline leaned over and sipped from her cup, "You wouldn't happen to take his spot, dear spawn?"

Astarion snorted with a cocky attitude, "Spawn - Hah."

Tav wasn't as amused as Astarion was, "Cazador is dead. What's the big deal with Astarion?"

A glow lingered in Tav's eyes, she needed to calm herself down before losing complete control of herself. She took in a deep breath.

Don't let your emotions get the best of you..

"To be honest, I'm livid. You stole my kill, my revenge, all my wasted time." Rosaline crossed her arms a lingering annoyance on her face, "For as annoyed as I am, I'm a woman of opportunity, not a savage like your brothers and sisters."

Astarion glared at Rosaline and the air became intense, "Oh please, do continue. It's getting better."

"We all want the same thing. Power, riches, and authority."

“My proposition for you still stands. I find myself in need of some quick cash, but I’m not one to beg or borrow. No, I prefer to make deals that benefit both parties involved.”

Astarion was curiously intrigued “And what kind of deal are you proposing?”

Rosaline smirked shyly, “Oh, nothing too scandalous, I assure you. I have quite a network of influential friends in high places, especially among politicians. Imagine the doors that could open for you if you had access to such power and connections.”

Tav raised an eyebrow, budging in, “And what do you want in return for this 'golden opportunity' ?”

Rosaline leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a convincing whisper “I simply ask for a small token of appreciation in the form of gold. With your resources and my charm, we could be unstoppable together. Think about it - power, influence, success… all within your reach with just a little investment in me.”

He paused to consider her offer, captivated by her persuasive words “You certainly paint an enticing picture. How do I know I can trust you?”

Rosaline clinked her wine glass against Astarion's with a reassuring smile, “Darling, trust is the foundation of any successful partnership. And believe me when I say, I always deliver on my promises. You won’t regret taking this chance on me.”

A truth and a lie.

Yes, she needed cash. But at the cost of working hard to tare down Astarion piece by piece.

Rosaline's words lingered in the air, and astarion was drawn into her web of deceit and allure, tempted by the prospect of power and influence at his fingertips.

It would be so easy to have Rosaline do his dirty work behind the scenes. He would never think to ask Tav of such things with perverted and sketchy businessmen.

"I don't make promises, but ill give you a trial run. Don't disappoint me."

Rosaline smiled, but there was a subtle sultry in her voice, and if Tav didn't overlook it herself; it felt like a flirt. "I don't disappoint."

ROSS'S POV

Truthfully, I wasn't going to come. Me and Rosaline haven't been getting along lately, she's more irritable than usual and I couldn't stand being around her.

But I can't let her drown on her own, no matter how frustrated she gets me.

Plus, I'm worried for Tav. I haven't seen her in some days now.

I hope she's well.

Tav forcefully made her way towards the exit doors, completely disregarding Ross's presence. She pushed past him with an accidental shove, continuing her exit without so much as a glance in his direction.

"Tav?" Ross called out for her but she was already outside.

He weaved passed on comers into the Inn and hurried behind Tav outside. It had already gone dark and that's when his eyes finally landed on her.

She was pushing her locs behind her ears, pacing back and forth with deep breaths.

She seems like she's blowing off some steam.

"Something upsetting you?" Ross tilted his head, his eyes softening at hers.

Oh no, Tav wasn't in any kind of mood to smile and give greetings. Her blood boiled and she snapped at Ross with a quickness, harshly spitting out, "Your sister. I can't stand to watch her sit there and be all friendly with Astarion when she barely acknowledges me at all!"

She waved her hands around dramatically with each word, "I want to support Astarion and keep calm, but Gods she makes it soo hard!"

Ross glanced at her hands.

A new shiny addition to her fingers that wasn't there before.

A wedding ring.

Ross felt his stomach turn, a horrible taste in his mouth to the mocking band waving in his face.

He reached out and stopped Tav's hot-headed blabbering, catching her just at her wrist and pulling her hand close to his eye level.

"Excuse you!" Tav tried to pull away but his grip was taut.

He swallowed, an anger in his eyes, "Are you - engaged?"

Her eyes faded from anger to softness with a single nod, "Yes."

Ross let go quickly, a look of disappointment etched on his features. But what made him even more bothered is that Tav didn't even seem guilty about it.

How could you confide in me for His toxic behavior and then accept a marriage proposal?

And to think she'd want better for herself.

Sarcastically, "Thanks for saying congratulations. I can see it all in your face that you're soo happy for me." Tav sighed and rubbed the side of her temple.

Ross crinkled his eyes, shaking his head in shock, "Happy?! Am I the fucking crazy one or what? You can't expect me to just wipe a smile on my face after what happened the last time I saw you."

A slip of the tongue, a confession sighed off his lips, "I've been thinking about you."

Tav turned her head, maybe shocked, confused, curious? The way her eyebrows narrowed didn't seem too welcoming, however. "About? I'm just fine."

"Wasn’t 'just fine' the other day."

And just like that Ross changed the conversation, "Welcome to the annoyed club with Rosaline. She can be really tunnel visioned so get used to it if your fiancé is working with her."

Ross patted Tav's shoulder, the anger was still so visible on her face, "I'll go back with you, and I promise I'll try my best to keep her in line."

Tav pouted and shrugged his hand away, "I'll believe it when I see it."

With a roll of his eyes and a chuckle, he extended out his arm towards the doors, "You first."

She's so hot-headed. Dramatic.

What a disaster.

END POV

Ross and Tav walked back into the inn, the wooden door creaking softly as they entered. With her arms crossed, Tav followed Ross closely behind.

Astarion's eyes fell on Tav, he was starting to get worried about her absence.

His eyes soon followed Ross, the uncertainty in Astarion's eyes felt uncomfortable and threatening for this random man he'd never seen once.

Once at the Waterdeep ball and now again with his wife.

Tch.

And then if Astarion's guard couldn't get any worse -

The scent of Sage wafted past him when Ross took a sit next to Rosaline.

The same scent he had smelled on Tav that night she ran off from their fight.

Astarion flinched involuntarily at the smell as if assaulted by the aroma.

Astarion’s eyes narrowed, fixing a piercing glare on Ross, a clear malice brewing beneath the surface. Sensing the tension in the air, Tav stepped in smoothly, placing her hand over Astarion’s and offering a wry smile.

“Sorry I stepped out I just needed some fresh air,” she remarked casually.

Astarion’s expression softened slightly at Tav’s gesture, though his gaze remained wary as he acknowledged Ross with a curt nod.

“This is my brother, Ross.” Rosaline's tone held a hint of amusement, nudging at him under the table to introduce himself.

Ross gave a daring glare at his sister, "Hello, Ross Bmuarr and uhh - I'm just a simple man with simple pleasures."

"Simple pleasures, indeed." Astarion drank from the glass, his hand sneaking onto Tav's thigh.

He slid his hand onto her upper thigh with a squeeze; painting her face with wide eyes and red cheeks.

The atmosphere in the inn seemed to shift subtly as the group settled into their surroundings, each person silently sizing up the others in their own head.

Ross's eyes traveled to Tav's face, studying the nervous look in her eyes. Those same red cheeks he remembered that night. It made his stomach tingly slightly until Astarion locked eyes with him.

Ah, awkward.

Ross averted his eyes away.

"If you'll excuse me, I have to use the restroom." Rosaline stood up, patting down the curves of her beautiful dress, "Tav, why don't you come with? Let us freshen up." She circled around the table practically pulling Tav up her seat with a mischievous giggle, "Just us girls, hmm?"

With a hesitant glance Tav was sending so many help signals, but it was already too late, Tav was being pulled by Rosaline to follow.

Astarion gave a nod with an amused smile to his dear wife, he knew she didn't want to be dragged away.

And just like that…

The men were alone at the table.

Next part here (coming soon)

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

the boys are alonneee oh noooo. ASTARION IS CATCHING ON?! yikes. Lemme know your thoughts!

[honeyjars-sims]

Episode 33: New Ventures

Seth and Reese were finally turning one and the DiMarcos were ready to celebrate! Lucy and Christopher couldn't believe their boys were growing so fast. It seemed like just yesterday that they were preparing to bring them home. Now they were beginning to walk and talk.

Lucy was thrilled with the wonderful job Kaylynn had done putting the party together. As she’d requested, it wasn’t too over the top but everything looked great and ran smoothly.

The food truck arrived just in time to feed their hungry guests, and there were plenty of age-appropriate activities for the kids to enjoy while the adults mingled.

Everyone was having a great time, and Kaylynn seemed to be quite proud of what she pulled off.

“You should do this for a living,” Lucy told her. Kaylynn laughed it off. “No, I’m serious,” Lucy continued. “Maybe not just kids’ birthday parties, but anniversary parties or even weddings.”

Lucy pointed out all of the connections Kaylynn had around the community, how skilled she was at planning things, and most importantly, how much she enjoyed helping out other people.

Kaylynn’s eyes grew wide.

“You’re totally right!” she exclaimed. “I loved putting this all together, and if I become an event planner, I can have some control over when and how often I work.” She thanked Lucy and went to find Matt to tell him about Lucy's great idea.

Later the boys had their birthday cupcakes and got more on their faces than in their mouths. They had so much fun that they passed out in their high chairs when they finished.

After Lucy and Christopher got the boys all cleaned up, Lucy spotted Damien walking toward her. She’d extended an invitation to her boss but hadn’t expected him to actually show.

She introduced him to Christopher and the boys and before long, the conversation predictably turned to work.

Damien told Lucy that seeing the new projects being developed and how they’d been received had reignited his passion for the company.

“I’ve had a lot of ideas about how I want to continue with the expansion of the company,” he said. “But I’d be remiss not to get your input given the work you’ve put in so far. Are you interested in becoming the Coordinating Producer for my new production company?" He was quick to assure her that the promotion would come with a pay increase.

Lucy couldn’t turn down a challenge, especially if it meant some actual collaboration with someone as accomplished as Damien. She was happy to accept the offer, but she asked for one small favor.

"Can I hire an assistant?"

Damien was happy to oblige her request, but he had one more surprise in store for her.

"I think I found the perfect name for the production company, but I wanted to get the okay from you first. How do you feel about Sunny Side Productions?"

Lucy was thrilled with the idea. They both felt the moniker was perfect for the new venture. They had just began discussing adding new members to the team before they were interrupted by Matt and Kaylynn.

“Sorry to leave so soon, but–” Kaylynn began.

Matt interrupted her by shouting, “IT’S BABY TIME! WOO!”

Kaylynn smiled and continued, “My water just broke.”  Lucy promised she’d forgive them for dipping out early to bring a new life into the world. 

Previous | Beginning | Next

[i-am-a-fan]

Pirate!Mei’s Ref sheet!!

[isabelguerra]

paranatural would be so good if the characters had intended symbolism and core beliefs and things behind them that drove a specific meaning. rather than being tools for shonen anime pseudomocking

[righteousruin]

icb Bane said

[reiderwriter]

Isn't She Pretty, Daddy?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Teacher f!Reader

Summary: You're a little bit worried about one of your brightest students recently, so you call her Dad to come in for a meeting. Her absolutely adorable - and single - Dad.

Warnings: the birds and the bees as explained by a kindergardener. Some angst about being a single parent.

A/N: Here's another entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Kid Fic Challenge! Dad Spencer has my heart, and I've been in a really fluff forward mood this weekend, evidently! I think I have one more Kid Fic left to go before the end of the challenge, but we'll see what the will of the fanfiction gods is...

Masterlist

If you were to be asked what the hardest part of being a teacher was, you would, without question or even a second to think, have an answer. Parents. The worst part of teaching is talking to parents. 

Little kids were easy to talk to. They asked questions if they didn't understand things clearly, and they didn't typically say things they didn't mean. Adults were the opposite, and it just so happened that all of your kids' parents were adults. 

Including your most recent problem  child. 

You were used to the kids in your class having some behavior issues - for one, they were kids, it was to be expected that their little bodies couldn't quite handle all of the emotions they were feeling at once. But you were doubly struck by your school area being close to Quantico, meaning half the kids in your care had families with law enforcement backgrounds. 

Absent parents plus growing bodies plus normal kid stress equalled attachment issues, and your problem child Harper Reid was one of your more worrying cases. 

You really hoped everything was okay in the Reid household, so you'd called the little girls parents. She was lovely - honest to god - one of the sweetest little kids you'd ever met. 

Every day she came to school with some older kids and their mom, carpooling on the way in, so you had yet to meet her parents, but you thought that anyone who could produce something that sweet and cute and brilliant couldn't possibly be a bad person. 

You didn't know what to expect, so when her little pigtails peaked around the corner and she came running in, you were momentarily filled with anxiety. 

“MOMMY!” The little girl yelled, launching herself into your arms as soon as she spotted you behind your desk. 

“Hi, Harper! Hi, you must be, Mr. Reid-”

“Doctor, actually, um, but that doesn't really matter. I'm so sorry about this, Harper doesn't usually tackle people.” 

The 3ft tall ball of energy had managed to crawl into your lap and wrap her arms around your neck, so you had to pick her up when you stood to greet her dad. 

“Will your wife be joining us for the meeting today?” You asked, already used to Harper's hugs and general closeness. 

“Oh, no. No, she's not coming. She, uh, doesn't exist. Single father.” 

“Oh my god, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to assume, it's just not on my files-” 

“It's okay, it's a …bit complicated.” 

You took your seat at the desk and gestured to the man to do the same. Finally, looking at him for the first time now that some of your anxiety had died down, you couldn't help but think that Doctor Reid was incredibly attractive. It wasn't one part of his face that stuck out to you as being particularly pretty, just the entire ensemble of it together that took your breath away. Either that of Harper was gripping you so tight she was restricting your ability to breathe, and considering a five year old is not a boa constrictor, this was all dad's fault. 

“So, you said on the phone Harper's been having some problems at school?” 

You snapped your attention back to the issue at hand, searching for the relevant files and pictures you wanted to show the man. Harper turned herself around in your lap and looped her arms around your arm, pulling it in close to use as a pillow. 

“Isn't Miss Y/N so pretty, Daddy?” You froze and flushed in an instant, suddenly so aware of the man's eyes on you. You weren't sure if you were thankful or even more embarrassed that Harper's dad seemed to be even more flushed than you. 

“Daddy? Isn't she pretty?” Harper insisted, and you realized that you both weren't going to get out of this without him answering. 

“Yes, angel. Miss Y/N is very pretty.” The little girl smiled in triumph and nuzzled into your arm even more, happily curled up into your lap like a cat. 

“Hey, Harper. We got a new puzzle delivered yesterday. It's got My Melody and Cinnamaroll on it. They're your favorites, right?” 

The little girl nodded in glee, eyes shining as she hung on your every word. 

“How about you go over to the play area and get it started, and then me and your daddy will come over and help you finish it?” 

In a flash, she'd hopped up out of your lap and wriggled away, shouting a quick “You promised, right?” behind her as she went. 

“I'm so sorry about that, I don't know what's gotten into her, she's usually very shy and-”

“Doctor Reid, it's fine. That's just why I called you in today. Teachers and parents are a team, right, we work together to make sure the kids grow up well, you don't need to apologize to me for that.” 

The man seemed to take a deep breath and nod, to regain his wits about him for a second. 

“Is she… this attached in her regular classes?” 

“Well honestly, she was a bit like that at the beginning of the semester, but she grew out of it after a while. In the last week or so, she fell back into it, and now she's calling me ‘Mommy,’ too. I was wondering if anything happened recently at home that could've led her in this direction, or…”

The man looked a little bashful, but there was a twinge of sadness in his expression that you recognised all too well. 

“Harper, uh, doesn't have a Mom. I adopted her, and it's a long story, but... She's been asking me to get her one recently, because she doesn't really understand all that well? I'm sorry, I didn't know she'd do something like this. I should've done a better job at home-” 

“Doctor Reid, raising a child is hard. It's so hard that humans usually do it in communities, or at least in couples. You're doing it alone, and Harper is already one of the smartest and most empathetic little girls I know. You're doing your job as Dad just fine.” 

The man smiled at you and looked down, quickly wiping away a tear as you gave him a moment of privacy. 

“So. If nothing at home set Harper off, we should probably go and ask her why she's calling me mommy, right?” 

You stood, and he stood with you, leaving his satchel next to his chair and unbuttoning his jacket. 

“Great. Sure, let's go see.”

Walking to the back of the room, you both smiled quietly, looking at the small girl. The 100 piece puzzle you'd guided her to was neatly arranged on the desk, pieces split into edges and centre pieces as she slowly looked at each one with a quietly focused face. Each time she found the piece she was looking for, her smile was bright as she connected it to the small part she was working on. 

“Mommy! Daddy! I can't find the melody's face, can you help me?” 

“Sure, Harper, we'll help you.” You moved to sit beside her at the tiny desks, giggling when the older Reid on Harper's other side struggled to fit himself in the toddler sized chairs. 

Harper assigned you roles, and you all started quietly doing your jobs, waiting for Harper to focus again so you could ask her questions without agitating her. 

“Harper, can you tell your Daddy why you call me Mommy?” 

“Sure! You're Mommy because I want you to marry with Daddy.” 

If you weren't already still flushed from her earlier comments, you certainly were lightheaded with embarrassment now. 

“Harper, that's not how it works-” 

“Yes, it is, Daddy! Henry said so. He said his mommy and daddy were sad one day, but then they were together again and they had a big party called a wedding and now they're happy, and that's why we have Michael.” You didn't quite follow from all the names and the story events, but it was evident that Reid did, so you waited quietly for his explanation. 

“My friend. Her son was at her wedding a few years back. They have another son who is a couple years older than Harper, they come to school together?” 

Your mouth made a small ‘o’ as you slowly filled in the blanks. 

“Harper, you want daddy to have a wedding so he isn't sad anymore?” 

The little girl gave a big nod and a smile, like she was so happy that she was finally being understood. 

“Miss Y/N should marry daddy because he thinks she's pretty. Henry said that was important for a wedding, your mommy has to look beautiful.” You made eye contact with Doctor Reid awkwardly as she spoke, both of you looking away for fear of seeing the embarrassment on each others faces. 

“And Miss Y/N wants a baby. So I will be Miss Y/N's baby, so everyone can be happy!” Harper's kid logic was a little hard to find fault with, but you still had to push back a little. 

“Harper, why do you think I want a baby?” 

“Angie asked you, and you said," the girl pouted, almost frustrated woth habing to answer all these silly questions.

"She asked you why you don't have a baby, and you said that you can only have a baby if you're married and that you wanted to have a baby when you were married. So marry my dad, and I'll be your baby!” 

Harper's smile was so happy and content that you really didn't want to spoil her dream just yet. You continued putting the puzzle together for a few minutes in silence, the full picture nearly being complete now. Harper seemed to fidget a little in her seat next to you, pushing closer and closer to you before tugging on your sleeve. 

You leaned down and she whispered in your ear - though you didn't doubt that her dad heard every word. 

“If you really want, I'm sure we can get another baby like Henry got Michael. I'll ask my dad, but I think it's allowed.” 

The poor man on the other side of the desk had to cover his face with his hands to stop the blush from showing, devolving to just straight up resting his head on the desk when his daughter kept going. 

“A boy is okay, but my dad doesn't really know about boy stuff. Uncle Derek says that my daddy is just a pretty boy with a book brain. We should get another girl, so daddy can be not worry.” 

The more you listened to Harper's adorable family plan, the more you just wanted to squeeze her tight and say yes and give her everything she wanted. 

“Miss Y/N, once again, I'm so sorry for everything, I'll talk with Harper at home about this.” 

“It's okay, I actually find it all very sweet,” you laughed a little and smiled back at him. 

“No, I'm sure your boyfriend would be so uncomfortable if he knew that she was trying to marry you off-” 

“Doctor Reid, are you trying to ask me if I'm single?” 

The small grin that quirked his lips up was nothing if not unfair. He really was a very pretty boy. 

“It was that obvious?” 

“Yep.” You made sure the ‘p’ popped a lot as you both shared a small laugh. Harper looked up between you and smiled, too. 

“So, can you get married now? Henry said you can do it really quickly, like in Grandpa Rossi's garden, and then you can go and do the secret part at home while Auntie Penny looks after me.” 

“Secret part?” 

“To make the other baby, silly!” 

[ozzgin]

More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰

Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)

Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader

A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.

Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues

[First part]

The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."

Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.

Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."

"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.

Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.

"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.

Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.

"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."

Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."

Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.

Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.

[wishful-seeker]

Tips on how to avoid being unintentionally ableist

1. When a disabled person says they cannot do something, and you wish to offer solutions, do not make a solution that involves them powering through pain, or something thats not accessible to the disabled.

Example:

Disabled person: "washing dishes hurts too much and i cannot do it."

Abled person: "what if you did one dish at a time throughout the day?"

This statement is not respecting that this disabled person just said they "can't". Always respect that. No matter how simple the task would be for you.

Disabled person:" i think ill use plastic silverware so i don't make dishes."

Abled person: "plastic is bad for the environment!"

This statement shuts down the most accessible and disabled friendly option that this disabled person can actually do because of the abled persons personal beliefs. This is not helpful, and ableist.

Better yet, instead of offering solutions, ask them directly "is there anything you need that you do not have that would help you do this?" This allows the disabled person to think about what would work, and they will always have a better idea of what would work than you do.

To add on to this, when we say we have no more energy to solve a problem or do a task, or change our lifestyle, we mean it.

2. If you feel discomfort when a disabled person is talking about their health, good and bad, that is ableist. Your discomfort is coming from a place that deams disabled peoples very existence as a bad thing and you need to fix that.

For example:

Disabled person:" this week has been rough pain wise, ive been through a lot, felt like my body was on fire. Lucky i got new meds though and i think they're helping!"

Abled person: "can we talk about something else, this is a bummer."

Disabled people should be able to exist freely without worrying about your personal comfort. Do you really think its appropriate to tell someone in constant pain that their life is making YOU uncomfortable?

3. Do not treat disabled people as tragedies, do not romanticize their old life or put their current one down.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah my life is pretty difficult sometimes, ive lost a lot but i still have happy moments."

Abled person: "it makes me so sad to see what disabled people go through :(. You used to love rock climbing and running, i would love to see you move around more again."

This statement is putting more value on the disabled persons abled past, and ignoring their life as a whole.

4. Do not avoid speaking to disabled people because it hurts to see your loved one disabled.

For example: my grandmother avoids conversations with me because it hurts her to see me in pain. While she has good intentions it leaves me being unable to be close to her. This is very isolating to the disabled.

5. Do not stop inviting your disabled friend/loved one out even if they are never well enough to attend. Unless we specifically ask you to stop asking if we can go out, good chances are we want to know you still care because again, disability is very isolating.

6. When a disabled person says certain things in their health have gotten better or worse, do not challenge this because you don't see a difference.

For example:

Disabled person: "yeah things are getting a little better"

Abled person sees disabled person using their wheelchair like usual: "i thought you said you were getting better?"

Better and worse are usually small changes only the disabled experience, its not like abled people healing from a broken arm. Better to a disabled person could mean they can stand for 10 more minutes.

7. Do not expect disabled people to ever be abled again, and again, do not put more value on an abled life.

For example:

Disabled person:"I have been using a wheelchair for 2 years."

Abled person: "oh you're young, im sure you'll be walking around in no time!"

This statement invalidates and ignores the disabled persons current life by hoping they get a more abled bodied life. Its fine to hope disabled people get better, but you don't get to decide what better looks like.

Hope this helps, stay punk.

[vivwritesfics]

Mrs Doctor Reid

Nobody knew Spencer had a wife. But they found out. Nobody knew she was pregnant, not until she walks into the BAU sporting a sizeable bump.

1.2K

Season 4 Reid

Nobody on the team knew that Spencer Reid had a wife. Spencer Reid, the youngest member of the team, the resident genuis. He had a wife. And nobody knew. (Well, JJ knew, but she wasn't about to spill his secrets).

Before he had joined the BAU, Spencer had been engaged. They'd gotten married after his first year with the team, but neither of them wore a ring on their finger. She wore it around her neck and he carried it with him, fingerings it in the privacy of his hotel room.

Spencer told JJ. He had to tell somebody, just in case something happened to him. JJ was more than happy to keep her a secret for him. And, once she met Will, she understood why he wanted to keep her secret, keep her to himself.

Morgan was the first to find out. The case was a pickup artist, an unsub that was patrolling clubs to pick up women and murder them.

Morgan and Reid had been in the clubs, handing out flyers to give to the potentially vulnerable women. When Spencer teased Morgan for getting a lack of phone numbers, he challenged him. So, Spencer used magic to impress the girl at the bar. "Well, if you see anything, call me," he'd said with his usual awkward smile.

The awkward smile his wife loved.

"And, if I don't see anything?" She asked, obviously flirting with him. "Can I still call you?"

Again, Spencer wore that smile. "Uh, my wife would prefer it if you only called if you saw anything."

When Spencer turned around, he saw the expression drop from Morgan's face. "Reid, you're married?" He asked, and Spencer nodded. "I'm so sorry, man. I didn't know."

"Nobody did," Spencer replied.

When the team found out, they felt incredibly guilty. They couldn't help but think back to Tobias Hankel and when Reid got kidnapped. She had no idea. His wife must have been sat in their apartment, alone and worried.

But JJ smoothed things out, assured them that Reid's wife was kept updated while Spencer was kidnapped. JJ told her what she needed to know and kept her calm.

But now they'd been married for four years. Spencer started wearing his ring after the team found out. He called her in front of the others while they were working on a case.

The team was so happy their resident genius was in love.

They knew about his wife, about the love of his life, but they didn't know about the baby.

Kids was always on the cards, but they had waited. Spencer's career was taking off when they got married and, with how often he was away, it didn't feel right.

But they weren't careful. It wasn't like Doctor Reid to not be careful like that. She was on birth control and there was always condoms in top drawer next to their bed.

But they slipped up just once. She'd forgotten to take her pill and hadn't noticed (Spencer was good with gently reminding her when he could. This hadn't been one of those times), and Spencer hadn't reached for a condom.

Neither of them quite realised they weren't being safe. Not until she realised there was an odd number of pills in the packet at the end of the day. She'd taken both pills, the number should have been even.

But she didn't panic. Didn't mention anything to Spencer. What was the chance she was actually pregnant? She kept things quiet until the morning sickness started. Until she took a test, and then another, and then another. When they all came back positive, she called Spencer.

She didn't normally call Spencer while he was on a case. He was busy, she waited for him to call her in the evenings, when he was in the hotel room and he wanted to hear about her day. Spencer couldn't help but assume that something was wrong.

Far from it. Everything was perfect. The minute Spencer got home he pulled her into his arms, his face in her hair. "I love you," he whispered again and again and again.

Spencer didn't tell the team. Didn't want them to worry while he was on cases.

She became, admittedly, a little clingy when she began showing. Not to the extreme of stopping him from going on cases, but, whenever he was home, she was attached to him.

And Spencer couldn't say no to his wife. She was craving pizza? He was getting pizza. She wanted him to read to her? He was bringing in a selection of books, sitting her on the sofa and rubbing her swollen feet with one hand while he read.

If she wanted to bring him something to eat, he'd text her when they were landing to do paperwork.

It didn't matter the time. Mrs Doctor Reid made two sandwiches and set off for her husbands place of work.

She had met the team a couple of times before. It wasn't many, but it was enough for her to be friendly with them. With a science museum tote bag over her shoulder, she stepped out of the elevator and walked into the FBI's Behavioural Analysis Unit.

Morgan spotted her first. "Hey, Mrs Reid," he called, gaining the attention of the rest of the BAU. But then Morgans eyes widened. "Holy shit," he couldn't stop himself from saying.

Emily let out a gasp as she walked over. "Congratulations, Mrs Boy Wonder," she said as she hugged her. Mrs Reid hugged her back.

Hotch shouted his Congratulations through his office doorway to the happy couple. As he did so, Morgan walked over and placed his hands on Spencers' shoulders. "My man," he said quietly and let go.

With a fond smile, Spencer pushed his hair back. He grabbed his chair and wheeled it over to her. "Hi Honey," he said softly, sitting her down on the chair.

Her bag was in her lap as Spencer wheeled her over to his desk. "I missed you," she said, pushing her own fingers through his hair.

Spencer softly smiled at her. "I missed you too," he whispered as she grabbed his hand. Public displays of affection weren't Spencers thing but, for his pregnant wife, he'd do anything.

She quickly let go of him and opened her bag. "I brought sandwiches," she said as she pulled one out and passed it to Spencer. He leaned against the desk as he unwrapped it, keeping hold of it as she unwrapped the second. Once they were open, they swapped. She took the sandwich from him and he took the sandwich from her.

As they ate, they spoke. She didn't ask about the case, she never did. No, she asked about the city and whether he'd been eating well.

Spencer assured her that he had been eating well. The conversation they had was the one they normally had in the evenings, when he was on a case.

He pressed his hand to her bump for a quick second as he finished his sandwich. "I've got paperwork to finish up," he said and rested his hand on her shoulder. "Wanna sit with me while I get it done?"

She nodded her head and Spencer grabbed another chair. As he worked she kept one hand to her bump, the other holding Spencers.

[winterarmyy]

And You're Mine

How grumpy chubby alpha!bucky finally found his omega

Summary: In which Bucky, the big, scary, 'undesired alpha' was tricked into a blind date where he met his precious little omega.

Note: Read the prequel here 《 Must Be Fate 》

Words: 4.7k++

Pairing: chubby alpha!bucky x omega!female!reader

Warnings: implied 18+ content, implied smut, a/b/o dynamics, self-deprication, body shaming, tiny bit of angst, fluffiness, bucky has a size kink (if you squint), horny-ass bucky has lots of dirty thoughts, vivian being a digusting bitch, protective y/n, even more protective bucky and overall wholesome.

P/S: Ahhhhhhhhh!!! My first omega-verse fic; i have no clue what I'm doing. This is mostly self-indulgent but if you come across this and somehow interested to read it then I hope you enjoy!

Read my other works here: Masterlist

"Are you fucking with me right now?" Bucky momentarily shuts his eyes, slightly titled his chin upwards, as if that'll help the boiling blood within his nerves to cool down.

Steve had expected that his best friend would be a little bit annoyed with his decision to trick him into agreeing to this suprise date but he didn't expect him to get this pissed, "Come on now, Buck. I promise you're gonna love this one."

"You said the same shit everytime!" Bucky almost roared in the middle of the crowded carnival, but he held back with a muted growl.

Ever since he lost his left arm on a rescue mission during his time in the Special Forces Unit, the society had deemed him to be "lesser than" despite the alpha title he was born into.

You would've thought that serving your country for about 6 years of your early 20's would be enough of a reason to make up for the so called "lacking", but no.

Apparently, his heroic contributions, his Sargent rank, and his literal blood, sweat and tears meant nothing when he returned home as an amputee.

Even if he came back with the medal of honor, pinned on the fabric of his uniform, right on his prideful chest; they didn't care. A defected alpha is as good as dead, especially in this modern, competitive society where its a lot more difficult to find a mate.

At first Bucky was optimistic, he didn't let them get to him.

He believed that his mate is out there somewhere, waiting for him, as he is for her.

After Stark Technologies offered him to join their research for under the Prosthetics and Orthotics Division, Bucky was lucky to fully revived his left arm in a form a vibranium prosthetic.

Even then, as time passed, the venomous whispers eventually managed to seep through; like any other poison, it is lethal to his mind.

And Bucky stopped trying to be an alpha. His pride was maimed and he let himself wallow in self hatred; letting his insecurity consume him. Eventually quite literally ate his pain away.

They said that he was rubbing salt to his own wound as now he was not just an amputated alpha, he is also a fat one at that.

With his alpha reputation being at its worst, his chances of finding a mate also went down hill.

"This one's gonna be different. Trust me." Steve claimed.

Bucky doesn't know why Steve seemed really convinced. But he wasn't having any of that, he rolled his eyes into a glare, "And how's that?"

Steve's blue eyes sparked as optimism lit on his face, "Well, first of all, she's one of Peggy's closest friends and.."

"Oh great, now you involve your omega into this." Bucky let out an unfiltered scoff before sarcastically exclaimed, "Just fantastic."

Steve growled at the mention of his mate, "Watch it, Bucky." He warned.

Bucky's drilling glare remained the same as Steve's alpha challenged his.

It's not that Bucky is against the idea of Peggy or any other omega helping him in any way. But, Steve had been annoyingly persistent with these set ups and he was sick of it. Perhaps he was a bit petty bringing Peggy into the conversation but he really was just tired of this.

Steve's scowl gradually soften before he continued his reasons, "...And, your date is actually the one requesting for a set up with you."

And that definitely caught Bucky's attention. Steve could see it, especially when Bucky's ears perked up a little and his ever-lasting frown loosen at the tiniest amount.

Steve smirked triumphantly, "Specifically you."

For moment, there was a hesitation on Bucky's side; and there were only the chaotic atmosphere around them. From the screaming of the riders on the roller coater to the giggles of children at the nearby courasell.

Steve really thought he managed to lure Bucky but he was caught by surprise when Bucky replied, "You'd think I'd fall for that crappy excuse of a lie? No. I'm leaving." Bucky turned on his heels.

"I'm not lying." Steve stopped him as he held on his arm, "Hey, you're gonna break her heart."

"Break her heart? How about mine? Just how many more heart breaks do I have to endure? How much more disappointment do I have to go through?"

Bucky gathered his palms into fists as he recalled all the mean, insulting words his past lovers had thrown at him and all those time he wasted on waiting for his dates to show up.

Just before Bucky planning to lash out, a voice interupted his thoughts "Hey, sorry for being late." Peggy came just in time.

Though it was just her; no sign of his so called date around.

An unexpected sting spreads within Bucky's chest. Of course she would stood him up too. Why was he surprised?

Steve pulled his omega into a tight hug, "Hey, baby. Where's y/n?" He asked.

"She's went to the bathroom." Peggy replied before taking a peep towards Bucky, "She got really nervous when she saw you. She might take some time to calm down. She thought its better if you know." Peggy explained.

On one side, Bucky can feel that sliver of hope creeping in. He look down to where he was supposed to see his feet, but unable to see them as now they're blocked by the round of his soft tummy. That's when the dark thoughts clouded his mind.

Was she just feeling nervous or was she regretting her decision?

After a short back and forth explanation, Peggy swept Steve away and had left Bucky on his own. She claimed that the line to the haunted house will double if they wait any longer. But, Bucky knew that they just wanted to leave him and his date alone.

Like every other date before, Bucky was emotions was all over the place; nervous, scared, intrigued, excited but what's different tonight was he also felt angry and annoyed. Which was not a good thing to feel on a date.

So he went to a Whac-A-Mole machine near the spot where he was supposed to wait for his date. He had to hit something. He just had to. He need to let his anger out one way or another.

His gloved hand gripped tightly on the wooden handle as he waited for the next round. Smack after smack, next was harsher than before, he did felt better. But even if the fire was out, the ashes were still burning.

As he was fixated on whacking the shit out of the moles, a particular scent invaded his nostrils. A sweet-smelling scent; something between a mix of cotton candy and butterscotch-caramel nuances.

It should be normal to smell this at a place such as a carnival; but the food stalls were all the way on the other end of the venue and this scent was too strong, too potent, to be that far away from him.

Bucky just had to stop as he relished the pleasant smell; it was truly a sweet and warm gourmand scent that ushered him in and out between nostalgic memories and pure raging lust.

That was when he heard a voice coming from his back, "You must've been really bored waiting that you started without me." She sounded amused when she let out a quiet laugh.

Even before Bucky had the chance to turn around he knew he was fucked; she just had to have the most captivating scent he had ever smell, and the most beautiful-sounded laughter he had ever heard.

What a foul torment to do to an alpha.

When Bucky turned around, he would've missed her if he wasn't paying enough attention on the lower area of his view.

And there she stood, in all her glory of ethereal beauty; small and sweet-looking in an off-shoulder sundress that does nothing but tempt Bucky to leave his mark all over her exposed skin. A simple necklace adorned with a gleaming stone that shines much like her eyes. A shy smile that may have just triggered some dark thoughts in Bucky's mind on corrupting the poor little thing.

"James, right? I'm y/n." she introduced herself but when Bucky's gaze fell on her rosy lips, all he could think was how bad he wanted to bite and suck on them just see if it'll get redder than they already were.

He was too focused entertaining on his inner beast's thoughts that he just stood there in silence, frowning intensely at the sweet little omega in front of him.

Y/N took his unresponsiveness as a sign of anger, so quickly apologised for her tardiness, "Sorry for making you wait so long. When we..i mean I. When I saw you, the nerves started kicking in." At least she tried to, despite stuttering in the between her words.

Fuck, she's such a pretty doll but above all, Bucky just wanted to protect her from the world, provide for her with anything she deserves, treat her like an absolute queen, worship every inch of her being like his own personal goddess and jesus fuck these urges came in stronger than he ever experienced.

With the lights coming from behind, Bucky's face was in the shadows and Y/N misterinterpret his spell-bound, diluted eyes to something else.

Y/N's brows creased in hesitation as she wonders if Bucky was still mad, "Uhh... oh shit" then her eyes widen in a false realization, "Is the something on my face?" She frantically searched for her phone in her bag.

And fuck does that big doe eyes of hers just casually seduce Bucky to think of how she would look when she's taking his cock in her mouth. She'd be so fucking pretty.

She knew she should've used her phone's camera to re-apply her lipstick instead of the cracked mirror at the carnival's bathroom, "The mirror here is f--"

Yes, Bucky would want to breed her so good that she would always be full with his pups.

She's undeniably... "Perfect." Bucky finally spoke after what seemingly feels like forever.

His voice was laced with a hint of territorial grunt that Y/N was not able to catch what he said, "Hmm?" She titled her head to the side, eyes pleading for him to repeat.

It took Bucky all of his mental strength to hold back his alpha urges when he repeats, "You're perfect, doll. Just absolutely perfect." A cheshire smile decorated his handsome face.

Did he meant to say she look perfect? Well, yes but no. He clearly meant she was perfect, her whole being. But Y/N took it as the prior, "Thank you." She smiled sweetly as her cheeks warmed.

Bucky definitely noticed the slight indent of her left dimple. And he wondered how would it felt against his fingers. "Adorable." He thought as his smile grew wider.

Y/N had been waiting for this moment, to finally had a chance to have this man even for a day, especially considering she had the biggest crush on this stranger that helped her a year ago.

One time she might just had met her potential mate was that one time she had to be dosed with shit tons of scent blockers. And that might just be reason why Bucky may not remember her but that's fine. She had one more chance with him tonight.

After that encounter, his scent, his voice, his presence lingered in her mind longer than she anticipated. At least until the moment Peggy showed a photo her alpha that had Bucky in it.

She grew hopeful and had been pestering her to set up somehow set up date with him.

When the time finally comes, she couldn't help but to fell into panic, "Did I introduce myself? I'm y/n" she completely forgot that she already did that.

Bucky let out the most adorable laugh before he reminded her, "You very well did, sugar." His hand move so naturally to tuck the strand of her hair behind her ear as she fell into utter embrassement.

"I'm Bucky." He finally introduced himself.

"Bucky?" Y/N outwardly questioned. She thought his name was James, as Peggy said it was.

He hummed softly as he nodded, "The name's James Bucky Barnes." He explained. "Just call me Bucky, yeah sugar?" He duck his head to peek on her redden face, "...cause I can't guarantee my behaviour around you if you keep calling me James." He quirked his eyebrow as his teasing grin spreads.

Oh, he was definitely and unashamedly insinuated something quite unholy there.

Bucky straighten on his back as he offered his arms, "Shall we, then? I would love to know more about you, sweet 'mega."

No matter how infatuated Bucky was with this lovely little omega clinging to his arm; a part of him was also on a defensive mode.

His insecurities gets the best of him when he believe that all of this was just an act, a cruel prank that fate has set up for him or maybe he was just having a ridiculous dream, knowing how pitiful his reality was.

Despite his gentle smile and longing gaze that's lingering on Y/N who was having the best time of her life as her bright eyes sparked at the vibrant and colorful firework show, deep down, he couldn't help to think that sooner or later, all of this will end like it always does.

Another heart break he needed to endure.

But, she was truly an angel. She was everything he could ever hoped for, everything that he could ever long for.

He can't belive that she would spend even a second of her time with a defected, fat, angry looking alpha such as himself.

Maybe this won't be just another heart break.

Maybe this would be the cause for him to actually break beyond repairable.

And she would be the catalyst.

"Thank you for today, Bucky. I truly enjoy my time with you." She confessed with a sincere appreciation and admiration towards him. She shyly broke their eye contact as her finger fiddled with soft fur of the teddy bear that Bucky won for her.

It reminds her of him so much that she insisted that he need to win it for her.

So he did.

His alpha couldn't help to puff with pride. "Omega's happy because of us." But his lips remain shut with a loving smile curved on it.

The dimple on her cheek appeared again and this time he didn't stop his hand from reaching out. Though they were gloved, he still let himself feeling the pleasure of grazing his fingers along her cheek, through her dimple and stopped underneath her chin.

Bucky pulled her closer as he dipped down to her level. Warmth sparked in Y/N's chest, as if the fireworks show magically transferred within her instead, "Buck--"

"Bucky?" A women's voice interupted their moment. "Bucky is that you?" She called again and her familiarity had caught both Y/N and Bucky's attention.

"Oh my god! It is you!" her ecstatic tone might have fool Y/N for a second there.

Maybe she's a close friend of Bucky, but when she saw the colors from his face drained quite drastically, she might need to hold on to that thought.

"Vivian." Bucky's tone changed into something Y/N couldn't put her finger on. Sorrow? Anger? Regret? She wasn't sure but it was not a positive response.

The claimed omega sauntered closer and peered towards Y/N with a glint of judgment in her eyes, "And I see you managed to trick another one, huh?"

That triggered a scarring spot within Bucky.

He could still remember the way she accused him of luring and tricking omega to be with him. Apparently, she couldn't stand being him during intimate time especially during his ruts.

And one particular moment when his rut was at its peak and she couldn't stop herself to turn into an unforgiving monster.

"I can't believe I fell for your charms. Then now I need to deal with this." Vivian looked away, unable to look at her boyfriend, hot and bothered, bare and in pain.

Bucky pants and groan as Vivian continued to insult him from the corner of him room, "Look at you, Bucky! You look fucking pathetic!" She yelled as she angrily pointed her hands towards him.

He turn to his side facing her, and curled his body to manage the raging pain of wanting to stick his cock into something. Vivian was to busy ranting that she couldn't see the fire in Bucky's grilling frown.

"You can't expect me to touch you now especially with your big fucking belly spilling out like that. God, you're sweating like damn dog and you fucking reek!" Her eyes narrowed and her nose wrinkled in disgust before she continued, "And don't get me started with that wretched arm of yours."

That's it. Bucky was not having any of it anymore. He was seconds away from slamming Vivian's face to the wall as his primal alpha needs to aggress were also heighten in his rut.

"Then, get the fuck out of my house, you useless annoying bitch." Bucky growled through his pain.

Vivian was not able to catch a breath as her mouth hang open in shock. Bucky never been that harsh with her but honestly it was about time he did.

"Don't even think of coming back." He warned as she closed the doors behind her.

Unknowingly leaving Bucky's heart bruised and battered.

That was almost a year ago. Bucky gave her the benefit of a doubt as he thought maybe she would change once she find her the love life but apparently she is as vicious as ever.

The tall blonde continue to linger as she asked, "Did you know? About that arm of his?"

Y/N didn't know what she was talking about but she didn't want to entertain this woman, especially when Bucky was clearly uncomfortable with her presence.

Though her silence only lead Vivian to speculate, "Aww, you poor thing, you don't know, do you?" Her mockery was getting worst, "It's fake, honey. He lost his arm many years ago." She flicked Bucky's left arm with long bird-like nails; or claws, that seemed more accurate.

Bucky caught the way Y/N's eyes briefly glanced at his covered arms then his gloved hand. What was she thinking then? Does she think that he was defected? That he is a damaged goods?

He couldn't help to let his mind wonder to the worst case scenarios and to make the unpleasant situation even worse Vivian slightly tugged Bucky's jacket to the side.

Revealing his round and plushy belly, "And fuck did you get bigger?" She sneered as the ruthless insult continue to spill.

"Shut up." Y/N's broken silence caught them off guard.

Vivian scoffed, "What?"

Y/N piercing gaze landed on Vivian's hand still tugging Bucky's jacket. She harshly grabbed her on the wrist, didn't care whether if her nails would dug into the woman's skin.

"I said..." The air felt heavier, only for Y/N to shove more force to it when her voice dropped a few octaves down, "Shut the fuck up before I tear your throat apart."

How dare she insult her alpha, especially when Y/N was right there with him.

"Are sure you want to do that?" Vivian's alpha suddenly stepped in. Even though he clearly was not interested in the matter a few seconds ago.

Y/N took a step forward, "Try me." She dared him.

"I might as well fuck your balls up while I'm at that, huh? Maybe you'll learn a thing or two about subduing your insolent omega."

Oh, she meant what she said; its especially clear when the growling started to peak a presence through her voice.

The taller was bright red, with embrassment and anger, "You're talking to an alpha. Know your place 'mega!" He forced his alpha command on her.

She fought back as much as she could but of course she was forced to submit. When the alpha tried to reach for her, that's when Bucky blocked his way.

Bucky's demeanour completely changed into something different. His meek presence vanished and now turned into a pure and primal rage. Good thing was he contained it quite well so he won't cause a scene but his gaze degrades the one before him.

Though the alpha was slightly taller but Bucky was certainly bigger and being a veteran, of course he'd be stronger. One wrong move, he might get a chance to meet the grim reaper sooner than he'd expect.

It felt as if Bucky was towering over the alpha, as he challenged him to come a step further, "Touch her and you're dead." Bucky let out a deep, murderous growl as he threatened.

The alpha was about to protest but was forced into a frozen state as he look into Bucky's sapphire eyes; there was something ominous about it, something dark and dangerous.

Being overwhelmed by Bucky's strong scent of rage, Vivian quickly pulled her alpha away, "Let's just go... They're not worth it." She coaxed, and the alpha agreed.

Before they leave, she managed to slip a last comment, as she wishes luck to Bucky, "Goodluck keeping this one." She thought she was being sleek when she whispered so quietly but Y/N heard that just fine.

When Y/N snapped out of the alpha command, she grunted, "I'm gonna kill her." What a menancing look in those coffee-stained eyes of hers.

Bucky only softened to her threatening aggressions, "No, you're not " he rubbed his hand to the sides of her arms, trying to calm her down.

Which failed miserably when she replied, "Watch me." She spun around, eyes searching in the crowd, trying to spot a glimpse of the rude couple.

"Hey hey, omega." Bucky quickly catch her before she could walk further, pulling her back to his chest, both of his arms securing her waist, "Calm down. Shhh shhh." Bucky let out a calming rumble from within his chest, coaxing her softly,  "Killing is not necessary, sugar."

Despite her tensed body were starting to relax, her mind certainly wasn't, "And why the hell not?" Her small hands gripped onto the fabric of Bucky's jacket on his arms.

"No one deserved to be treated like that." She whispered softly as Bucky continued to kiss the top of her head, mumbling quiet 'I know, doll. I know' 

"You don't deserve to be treated like that, Bucky." Her voice shivered despite her efforts to conceal them.

Bucky loosen his grip and turned her to face him. His loving gaze took in every single one of Y/N's sweet features; from her teary eyes to her redden nose and pouty lips.

He wanted to kiss each of them, in hopes of making her feel better. But he doesn't want to take any chances as he had already made a bold move to hug her from behind and kiss her head prior.

Bucky looked down at his dark midnight glove, and Y/N took his lead. Before she could say anything, Bucky started pulling each one off. Revealing his calloused right hand and a shiny black and gold prosthetic on the other.

He can't see her reaction to his vibranium arm, but he imagined the worst. He took in a shaky breath before he spoke, "Alpha is supposed to be perfect. They supposed to be capable. So that they can provide and protect their omega."

He paused as Y/N wrapped took both of his hand in hers but then continued regardless, "And I am far from being perfect or ideal. I lost a limb and gained pounds in return. I can't hide that fact."

"But I swear to god y/n, I never intent on tricking you or using you, in any way." In the end, Vivian's gaslighting effect of Bucky was still stronger as ever.

Why couldn't he see that there was nothing less about him.

"It's pretty." Y/N titled his left hand back and forth, watching the glow on the gold lines reflect the lights of the carnival; each move create random sparkling dots on its smooth surface, it looks like stars.

Bucky didn't understand at first until she looked up at him, with eyes gleaming with mixture of intrigued and infatuation, "It's so pretty, and Bucky..." She reached her hand to his face, gently rubbing her thumb on his stubble jaw, "You're beautiful. All of you." She confessed.

She carefully pulled her hand away from his cheek, and grabbed his left hand with both of hers, allowing it draw near to her lips before she placed a loving kiss on it, "This arm," Then her hands caressed the softness of his tummy, "this body," before they stopped at his chest where his beating heart resides, "this heart. Every single part of you is beyond beauty itself."

Bucky frowned as he find it hard to believe and Y/N knew that, "I mean it, Bucky."

A short chuckle left her lips as a thought run through her mind, "God, you'd be running scared, if you know half of the things I would love to do to you."

Bucky bit back a smile as he let his teeth sink into his bottom lip.

Y/N continued as she held onto his hands, "But, above all Bucky, you are the sweetest man I've met." There was nothing more sincere than her words, "Yeah I know we just met and what not, but if I can see that just in one night, imagine if I get to know more of you tomorrow or the next day and next week?"

Her grip on him grew stronger as she reminded him, "Don't let an impudent omega or anyone even, convice you otherwise."

"Because Bucky, you are as lovable as a person can be." She placed his palm on either side of her cheeks, purring as the sensation on skin felt so right, "And I am absolutely honoured and proud to be standing here with an alpha like you." She smiled like she was the happiest omega on earth.

And Bucky could not control the overwhelming joy within his thundering chest as it bursts with endless fluttering butterflies. He had never felt such comfort, such reassurance in his life, especially after returning home from the army.

Flickers igniting as he leaned in closer and closer until their lips touched, tentively for the first time. The smell of her cotton candy and caramel, so sweet and so soft, it was almost dizzying, but he was more than thrilled to let it consume him. 

Y/N briefly parted her lips to let him in and leaned into the kiss, wanting more of the delicious sensation of his lips, his tongue on hers. Bucky wanted nothing more than devour her, memorizing of every single moan that fell into his mouth.

It felt so right; it was exactly was his soul had been yearning for and more.

Breaking the kiss was the reminder to both of them they need air to breath, and Bucky rested his forehead on hers as he took in everything that just happened.

While Y/N found herself completely drunk to the feeling of love within her body and soul, she whispered dearly as she scatters most tender kisses all over Bucky's face, "You're so pretty. So perfect. So... mine."

And that caught Bucky in another spiral of confusion; she could see it in face especially with his sapphire eyes being as wide as they were.

She giggled amusingly before she proposed, "Will you be mine, James Bucky Barnes?"

God, he was supposed to be the alpha here. But what can he say, his omega is quite a special one.

He breathed a relief sigh, "Yes." Leaned in for a quick taste of her lips before asking his a question of his own, "And you're mine?"

Her nose crunched as she booped its tip on his, "Always." She replied. Bucky could feel her smile against his lips and so does she.

Unbeknownst to the happy couple, a few feet away from them was Peggy who was busy clicking her camera away, trying to get the best shot she could out of the couple while Steve was trying hard to hold back his proud sniffles as he stood guard near his omega.

End.

Read my other works here: Masterlist

A/N: Sooooooo what you think? Feel free to give feedback I love reading your thoughts!

[writingwithcolor]

A Careful Balance: Portraying a Black Character's Relationship with their Hair

@writingraccoon said:

My character is black in a dungeons and dragons-like fantasy world. His name is Kazuki Haile (pronounced hay-lee), and his mother is this world's equivalent of Japanese, which is where his first name is from, while his father is this world's equivalent of Ethiopian, which is where his last name is from. He looks much more like his father, and has hair type 4a. I plan to make his character very finnicky about his hair, both enjoying styling it, but also often being unsure how to style it (not in that he doesn't know how to, but has so many options for how to style it, he has trouble choosing). However, I know that there are some very harmful ways to write black hair, especially in regards to how the black character themselves feels about it. Kazuki does not hate his hair, in fact he takes joy in it, and I'm researching black hair and hair styles to be as accurate as possible. But I'm unsure if portraying a black character as occasionally overwhelmed by or vain about his hair is negative. How would you suggest either changing this or making it work? Does it need to be changed in the first place?

Black Character Overwhelmed by Curly Afro Hair

Your Black character wanting his hair to look its best and at times feeling overwhelmed seems reasonable and natural to me. It appears their challenge comes with how to style it. Not so much with struggling how it looks or how hard it is to manage. That is good, as this further helps avoid placing a strong negative focus on Black hair. 

Him caring a lot about how it is style should not be deemed vain or frivolous, either. In any case, hair care is self care. There’s nothing wrong with having pride with your hair, especially hair that mainstream society, historically and present, might say is not beautiful. This still matters, even in a fantasy world, since your readers still exist in this reality. It’s empowering and a welcome change to see someone who loves their afro hair, actually.

There are unique factors someone with coily afro hair would experience vs. straight, wavy, or looser curls, but people struggling with their hair (too frizzy, too flat, too limp, too thin, too thick!) is universal. 

There is a delicate balance to achieve.

Avoid Writing a Black Hair Journey Experience 

An overall negative Afro hair journey might be the reality for many, especially when society deems Afro hair as unacceptable and slaps so many uninvited opinions, laws and policies over its existence and on certain styles (again, historically and very much at present), but that’s the kind of story that is best handled by someone with the background. Someone willing to commit to the research might also be able to pull it off, although it’s truly not the kind of thing an escapism novel needs in my opinion. If the story is not meant to delve into “A Black /Black Hair Experience” then I'd avoid going that route. That is moving a bit towards a struggle narrative, depending on how much it defines your character’s story.

Add positive and neutral hair language and interactions

For your writing, I’d avoid using unchallenged negative language about his hair. Being overwhelmed at times and frustrated is one thing and expected. If his hair is constantly brought up, and is associated with uncontrollable, ugly, or too [insert struggle here], then rethink the direction you’re going. 

Add some positive or neutral terms, reactions, and interactions in the narrative towards afro hair, such as describing color and texture.

“His fine coils bounced in the wind.” 

“Hair black and shiny” 

“She wore her hair in two large, fluffy buns.”

“He admired his fresh, neat braids in the mirror, smiling at his reflection, before turning to leave.”

Another tip: It may have been for research purposes, but leave out any hair number categorizing in the story and rely on description. I’d say this goes for any story, as reading the number would feel off. 

“He had coily 4a hair.” Nahh! :P 

Also, I would suggest sending all passages that focus on his hair to a Black sensitivity reader for review.

More reading:

~Mod Colette