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ssunsationn · 2 days

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Final Spouse’s Energy If You Met Them Now (+ how they would be like dating you) - Current ⏳

Left to right. Choose the photo that you can’t get your eyes off of.

Where are they now? How are they doing? How would things be like if they were in my life now? May include some SUGGESTIVE comments, but is still very much SFW. I may have gotten carried away with this.

Note: This is your future spouse’s CURRENT energy, which may be prone to change within the next couple of years (ex: more maturity, better developed skills/assets, etc.) But if you were to meet your future spouse now, this is how their energy would look like.

DO BEFORE PICKING: Clear your mind. Close your eyes, inhale deeply, fill up your chest to the fullest, feel the air brush against the ridges of your nose. Breathe out.

———————

Pile 1. “Hey. Hi, I guess?”

• very chill atm, very content with life. Goes with what life delivers to them (that’s pretty cute ngl)

• chill buuuut can be too chill to a fault. Not nonchalant but rather an innocent, “oh I didn’t know you were bothered by that *scratches head awkwardly* — think: Fred liu type of energy

• handles conflict calmly (they might be freaking out inside tho)

• likable and friendly person. Gets along with others well, tho they don’t seem too close with. They have only a handful of close friends, and it’s slightly difficult them to see people outside of that circle as close — selective with who they consider friends. If you got in a conflict with this person’s friends, it would def hurt your person a lot. Ofc they would want to hear both sides out with an unbiased view. (they won’t side with you just bc you’re dating btw, but they’ll let you know as gently as possible)

• doesn’t really have the capacity to yell at people. They’re pretty reserved or have solid emotional control

• definitely could be a loner. LOVES late night walks in the breeze, just the two of you, holding hands or talking or doing wtv- they really don’t care what it is bc it’s with you. I keep seeing this play out in my head tho, where a person with a grey hoodie, hood-on, hands in pockets, walks by your place at night and pretends they dropped something or makes some sort of excuse to see you even for a few minutes. ^^This is when they like the person tho- not actually dating (yet). They will take the chance to either invite you to walk with them (with or without excuse) or hope that you invite yourself lmfao 😂. OR they’ll lean on your doorframe and ask how you are, have a little chat, and every time you think of an answer or your eyes drift away while thinking, they’ll take the chance to check you out (not body, but facial features.) No thoughts in their mind, just how your face just…makes sense(?) to them? 😂😂 Pile 1, like, their eyes will trace the lines, curves, and dips of your face. If you have horrendous eye bags or dark circles, they’ll think it compliments your face somehow. Like you just “make sense” is what I’m hearing. The vibe I’m feeling is that they’re in stage 0 of this potential relationship—like they’re trying to figure out if they just like being around you or if they’ve actually grown romantic feelings for you. In this moment, they’re possibly at that point of figuring out that they DO have feelings for you and this little moment confirms it (altho they’ll push it back until they get home.) >>> (***little note here: they won’t mast*rbate thinking abt you yet and prob for a few weeks to months, bc this is still too early on for them, esp when they’ve just started to like you. It’s more of a respect thing for them- and ESPECIALLY if they haven’t gotten any signs that you like them back. After a couple of months (still not dating you), you could pop into a few of their fantasies tho, but only for a very brief flash. But again, the restriction is there IF yall aren’t tgt yet.)

• can be naive, and probably lets people walk over them too much/has too many open windows for others to take advantage of them. They have to learn to set boundaries properly and stand up for themselves. They will defend the people they love tho. They just let it go when it comes to themselves

• good natured, clean, and has good hygiene. You won’t see pube hairs (or hair in general) in their shower drain. They don’t mind cleaning it either- could honestly clean the house w no problem. It’s therapeutic for em

• pretty responsible person. Won’t argue if you tell them to clean smth or do the dishes. They’ll just do it

• amazing listener, willing to compromise/give you time. Will apologize even if they’re not in the wrong

• they don’t care abt your financial status as long as you’re responsible with money/show maturity over it

• perceptive of other’s emotions to an extent, and especially when dating you, they will pay attention to yours and your reaction to different things. If you look like you’re goin thru smth, they’ll ask right away. The concern on their face is unmistakable

• dresses up helllla nice for a date. Sometimes, subtly sexy and not even on purpose. BUT, there’ll be times where they’ll be in the mirror like “hm, looks kinda see-thru and kinda sexy…I’ll wear it since I know [y/n] will like it.” But they don’t expect you to jump them that night or anything. May hint at it and tease you thru out date night. (The “innocent” gaslighting might be goin crazy tho)

• forgives easily but they’d rather take the hurt than be mean to you

• extremely loyal. Absolutely no interest in anyone else aside from their partner. I don’t think they have the energy for anyone more than you either hahaha

• turns down their friends to hang out with you

• has a lot to say/wants to be heard but sometimes gets self conscious of speaking (as if they’ve said too much) even tho they’ve said the least in the room

• tall or there’s a height difference between you two

Points of Interest: Fred liu’s energy is soooo apparent- he’s not going away lmfao HELP, possible MBTIs: infj, enfj, awkward silence, bad jokes when trying to go off of your joke (like realllly bad- they should stick to the simple ones like ikea puns), nerdy, very put together but allows moments of mistakes, mentally stable, a bit boring, will walk your dog with no extra charge, gets your coffee every morning (if you drink it), remembers the little details, might be a bit vanilla in bed, arms around your waist, cares abt the romantic and friendship aspects more than the sexual relief, smiles more when you’re around, observant as HELL, remembers to pick up your meds, remembers important dates and times, very considerate and kind, simple watch, humble, “how about we make that one thing you like?”, homebody, doesn’t overdress (sometimes underdresses tho), very gentle and good hearted, learns your language to bond with you more, a total romantic and daydreamer, bro gets talkative in their mindddd (the scenario above prob came from them but shhh)

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Pile 2. “I like the way you laugh. Eheheheh.” - Justin Bieber Interview

• a whole ass clown. Nah I mean “make you laugh until you die” kind of clown. Won’t stop even if you’re dying and gasping for air. LOVES to hear you laugh. They somehow have an intensive arsenal of jokes and will adjust depending on people’s humor- and they’re very good at this

• extroverted and TALKATIVE. Will go to Yapville and come back. Will share a lot with you and expects your feedback. Doesn’t matter if you’re an introvert or extrovert, they wanna hear your thoughts and opinions

• also they may have good leadership skills and are witty. The only issue with this is that they might be too agreeable sometimes- they want what’s ultimately best for everyone involved. The agreeableness thing is a 50/50 thing tho and applies to only some people in this pile, while the others’ future spouses will make better decisions and more sound judgments depending on the situation and what kind of person they are.

• they also don’t like to correct people’s wrongs, but rather show people how to do something. Some fs in this pile tho, can’t call people (you included) out on bs or mistakes. This may be an issue (since they might value harmony so much). This isn’t the best trait to have if you’re thinking abt kids in the future

• also if you have a dumb ass idea, they’ll hype it up and won’t think it’s dumb at all. They’ll be very supportive. Won’t ever make you feel crazy, unless you crack a joke more unhinged than they ever have/or you ever have. Maybe you’re not the type to until you meet them

• I will say, I don’t think they’re that much taller than you

• they’re so unserious sometimes that you can’t believe they’re as responsible as they are.

• somehow always knows the best places to go for a date or if you guys have extra time

• also don’t be surprised if it’s your birthday and they tell the restaurant staff to bring out the whole cake and candles, even mariachi band- be prepared that shit’s kinda crazy 😂 If you don’t like attention in general, I can’t save you in this relationship lmfaoooo

• they’re also pretty optimistic and prepared for emergencies. The type to track your period if you have em lmfao- *they get the notif on their phone* “oh you’re starting your period next week. Sweet.” “How’d you know that?” You ask, and they’ll say casually “Cuz I got the app.” *flashes you their screen w/ app open* and will browse it some more.

• these people are kinda crazy bc if they’re a parent in the future, they’ll bring a whole colossal ass backpack to an amusement park while carrying your kid. They don’t even care if it makes them look weird

• they probably have a weird feature(s) on their face or body that you love. You think it’s charming on them and while society might consider it weird or not conventionally attractive, they’ve figured out how to make it work

• doesn’t really struggle with jealousy. If anything, their form of jealousy is making you laugh even harder or doing something ridiculous to get your attention back on them and off the other person

• ^ they really do like your attention. They also love when you share things you’ve learned with them or you get them involved/inform them in on something you’ve been working on, reading, studying, watching, whatever it is, they’ll be interested. They’ll watch that dumb reality tv show you’re watching. You could even catch them up with some gossip/drama and they’d be invested af

• tbh im not feeling that they’ll ever be bored with you, regardless if you can keep up with their energy or not, because they’ll make you keep up 😭

• one sad bit I have to mention is that they probably have gone through something in the past where they weren’t on guard so they lost the person/opportunity. [I’ll keep this vague. The person doesn’t want me to dwell on it too much. They don’t want you to be fixed on negative things.] This event has stuck with them ever since and they feel that they can’t afford to make that mistake again. If you acknowledge their efforts in a serious conversation or just a random totally unrelated moment, they’ll very much appreciate that. More than you know.

Points of Interest: Getting a whole enfj vibe in here (healthy AND unhealthy enfjs), possibly enfp, entp, esfj, estp, esfp, surprise birthday parties, *dramatic gasping*, maybe likes drinking tea or making tea (esp one that’s pale-yellow colored- idk the name) and drinking it at night(???) speaking of which, night owl, flexible, will make time for you, “it’s okay! I got it!”, confident, on top of things, “sleep is for the weak” says while eye twitches, switch/versatile in bed—does not mind trying new things (they don’t even care how good or bad you are in bed. If they wanna spice it up, they will take the reigns if you don’t, with no problem), will try their best at anything and everything, the responsible class clown, loves board games, masculine and feminine energy is balanced well, probably a masochist bc they like to stress themselves out with all sorts of duties and responsibilities, very good at adapting, open to new cultures/living in countries completely different from them- weirdly, I’m seeing an Australian guy exploring the wild (…maybe that sort of thing excites them), “if you move, I move. No exceptions”, best parent award, “positions” by Ariana grande

———————-

Pile 3. “Hm.”

• in a bit of a stump. Probably has a part time job or multiple to support themselves on their own, but it’s better than being in their last situation.

• introvert. MAJOR introvert.

• minimalist

• straightforward, doesn’t beat around the bush

• not getting the vibe that they’re dating atm — single energy, but not really bothered by it

• would have a pet (eh, maybe) if they could afford to, since they neither have the time nor resources

• they would prob turn you down the first time you ask them out OR they ask you out but in a timid/unconventional/at a later period. I don’t think they have too much dating experience either (and I thought Pile 1 was a loner)

• tsundere type of energy

• the type to say they don’t want kids but when y’all get together, they start thinking abt it a lot, and may hint at it

• good at saving up money, bc they don’t really spend on much. but will work hard to buy you something expensive if they don’t think their efforts for you are enough OR if they don’t think they’re enough for you in general

• doesn’t care what other people think. Could care less if you don’t look your best on some days, have some break outs here and there or a lip filler gone horrendously wrong — if they love you, they LOVE you fr (…should prob sue that doc tho...)

• (expanding on the last point) generally, they don’t care what others think. HOWEVER !!! when you guys start dating, one or both of you (but especially on their side) will struggle with self-esteem issues. Be careful with this, because they will fall for you DEEPLY and literally can’t get out of it —> you’ve shown that you love them unconditionally, regardless of anything, and will be there for them no matter what. Pile 3, you’re pretty soft energy- I get burrito blanket/animal onesie type feels. Back to my point, if you’re not reassuring enough or emotionally available for this person when they open up, it could turn into a toxic relationship where you fall out of love first OR you get trapped in the cycle and now both of yall are depressed af.

• they don’t fall for people easily, like at all, so the obsession will be amplified by a million fold if they ever lose you. The idea of that crushes them and could take a huge mental health toll. It seems they could have leftover resentment from childhood (be it school, family, friends…). If they open up to you, that’s an honor. (At this point, they probably even trust you with their life, don’t tell anyone the info)

• In the worst case possible, you could get someone like this but feel an uneasy weird feeling around them. I’d advise you to keep you distance cuz that ain’t yo person. Obsession can get really bad with this group’s fs. Like real down bad bad. Like put a gps on your car bad. If you meet a person this creepy, don’t stick around in their life and definitely don’t have them stick around in yours. Chances are, this is a karmic person and they’ve come into your life as a reflection of your own insecurities or obsessive tendencies.

• VERY SMART. Can be calculative to protect themselves and those they love

• on the bright side, a well developed pile 3 future spouse enjoys solitude and has managed trauma very well. Tho they might seem socially inept, they’re prob just blunt and honest. They will tell you like it is. Will literally do anything for you, uncharacteristic, even if they look like an idiot on the street

• prefers more intimate settings alone or with you. With another friend? ehh…they prob won’t go

• will only go out if you go out, bc it’s you

• either secretly freaky in the sheets or inexperienced

• jealous easily and is very possessive. They don’t have too many people around them they deem trustworthy so this reaction is to be expected

• this person handles aggressive or violent behavior well. It doesn’t freak them out. (Also right now at 3:01 pm where I’m at, their energy is very hesitant to give out the reason why so perhaps when you meet them and gain their trust, they will tell you.) {P.s I’m asking them very specific and personal questions on the side rn and the silence speaks volumes. I won’t pry any further but they ask that you have some empathy, since they’re not sure how you’d see them.}

• another p.s.: 3:09 pm I think I’ve exposed too much here. There was a strong resistance at the end since it’s so vulnerable and close to their core that it freaks them out to be outed for strangers to see and read about. I won’t say anymore about their past. I’ve also become more careful of my wording - but I will say this for their sake. There is a strong desire to change in this person tho so being someone who brings positive influence into their lives. Someone who can prove that there are still good people in the world.

Points of Interest: istp, intp, entj, intj, istj, either good memory or doesn’t care to rmr (no in between. It varies from person to person, their values and where the info is coming from), notices every little detail, doesn’t care about your flaws, desensitized if you have breakdowns, unexpectedly a good comfort person. Again, a lot of resistance and hesitation, so I won’t say any more abt them. Ooh, ominous. Also, do you struggle with gut issues? Or smth diet related? Could be a whack diet. Okay, I had to go back and delete an important piece of info I put in initially but there’s a lot of disapproval over it. I will throw a small hint out since they’re allowing me to; it’s related to growing up. They don’t want me to be specific abt the period of when but that’s what you get just as a preface. I can tell they want to tell someone about it though. There’s just no one they trust. Also, rmr I said they don’t care abt what others think? Apparently, they care strongly abt what YOU think. It almost feels regretful? Embarrassing? To admit/write this. Thanks pile 3. That’s all you’re getting out of me today.

——————-

*Teddy Note: Teddy here!! I hope your day is going smoothly wherever you’re at! We’re back again with another reading and this time, it was a bit heavier to take in. I mean, this is future spouse we’re talking about so there’s definitely going to be a handful. I have to mention briefly, this is the first time I’ve ever felt a clear shiver against my body when doing a reading. Like a full on force that left me blinking like “wtf just happened…” Especially for a certain pile, who doesn’t want me putting them in the light too much. I saw someone with so much guilt on their face, but they looked so…small? Innocent? Youthful? As if they hadn’t done anything wrong in their life, it’s just that people looked at them…not wrong, but differently? It’s uncomfortable to find the word even after finishing the reading but “differently” undermines their experience and what they’ve been through. But they also don’t want to use a more negative word to describe it either so I’ll leave it there. Thank you for reading!! Remember, take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. I would appreciate any constructive feedback and if you guys reblogged with what pile you chose. It helps a practicing reader like me learn to be more accurate and aligned! Until the next reading, Teddy outttt 😎😎

#divination #tarot reading #tarotblr #tarot blog #daily tarot #tarot #pac tarot #intuition #pick a card #intuitive #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a photo #spirituality #love reading #future spouse reading #future spouse #love pac #relationship pac

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pockettwinzz · 2 days

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Choque - S.JY

Pairings : Boyfriend!Jake x Fem!Reader

Warnings : public exibition (not mentioned!), Smut, ab riding, reader cums, usage of pet names (sweetheart, baby) ; if I missed smth lmk! MDNI

Word count : 1007

Author's note : Sorry for being so inactive, more drabbles coming soon ><, this is dedicated towards kayla (@alvojake) also my favourite jake stan

REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT !

You were lying on a towel, your eyes closed, the warm sand caressing your bare skin as it wiggles between your toes. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore lulls you into a sense of peace, and for a moment you almost forget where you were. But then, a familiar scent fills your nostrils, and you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you closer. Your heart skips a beat, and you can't help but smile as your body presses against the firm, hard surface behind it.

You hear him chuckle softly, and then his lips brush against your ear. "You okay, sweetheart?" he whispers, his voice deep and reassuring. You nod, as you feel his hand move up to cup your cheek, gently stroking your skin. You turn your head to face him, and your breath hitches in your throat. There, before you, is the most heavenly sight you've ever seen: Jake, shirtless and gleaming with sweat, revealing his toned, muscular chest and abs. Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but you can't help but stare.

He catches you looking, and his grin grows wider. "What do you think?" he teases, running a hand through his damp hair. You feel your heart race as you admire his defined pecs. You swallow hard, suddenly aware of the wetness pooling between your legs. "I-I mean... they're..." You stammer, unable to meet his gaze.

Jake chuckles softly, lowering his head so that his lips brush against your ear. "Go on," he whispers, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Finish that thought." You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart. "They're perfect," you manage to say, feeling a blush spread across your cheeks.

He groans, pressing his hips against you suggestively. "Thanks, sweetheart. But you know what would feel even better right now?" he asks, his voice a low rumble. "If you were on top of them." You glance up at him, feeling a mixture of desire and nervousness welling up inside you. You can't help but picture yourself straddling his hips, your weight resting on his abs as you grind against him. The thought is so arousing that it makes your breath hitch in your throat.

"Really?" you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. He smiles, his eyes locked on yours. "

"Yeah, really. Go ahead, sweetheart. Show me what you've got." His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel a rush of adrenaline surge through your veins. Tentatively, you start to shift your weight off of the towel and onto his hard, defined abs. They feel amazing beneath you, and you can't help but let out a moan as you begin to grind against him. Jake's hips push up against you, meeting your movements with equal eagerness.

His hands move to cup your bottom, lifting you up just enough to feel the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance. You can feel the heat emanating from him, and the need for him to be inside you grows with each passing second. You grip his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin as you begin to rock back and forth, crying for more friction.

Jake lets out a loud moan, his hips bucking up to meet your movements. "That's it, sweetheart," he groans. "h-harder," You felt so alive in this moment, your body moving in perfect sync with his. The sound of your moans and the slapping of your skin against his only serve to heighten the sensation, making you lose yourself in the moment.

His hands slide up to cup your breasts, squeezing them through the thin fabric of your bikini top. He rolls your nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. You arch your back, pressing deeper against him, feeling the heat from his body envelop you.

The muscles in his abdomen tense and relax with each thrust of his hips, and you can feel him getting closer to the edge. "Fuck, yeah," he gasps, his voice thick with desire. "That's it, baby." His hands move to grip your hips, guiding you, the grip hard enough to leave bruises.

You feel a shiver run down your spine as you move faster, grinding against him. The sensation of your skin sliding against his hard abs is almost too much to bear. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure, and he responds by lifting you higher, pushing deeper into you.

His hands slide down your back, cupping your ass cheeks, and squeezing them tightly. The friction between your bodies grows more intense, and you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. "Jake," you gasp, your voice strained from the effort of keeping up with the rhythm. "I'm close..."

He lets out a low groan,"Come for me, baby." You dig your nails into his shoulders, grinding down on him harder, feeling the head of his erection pressed against your entrance. "J-jake," you stammer, barely able to form the words. "I'm so close... so close" His hands slide down your back, cupping your ass and squeezing it. His hips thrust upwards, meeting your movements as you ride him faster, your breasts slapping against his chest.

The friction is almost unbearable, and you can feel the heat building inside of you. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure, your body moving in perfect sync with his. His abs feel like steel beneath your hands, and you can feel every ripple and muscle as he thrusts up into you. You arch your back, throwing your head back with a cry as you finally reach the peak, your orgasm washing over you in a wave of pleasure.

Jake kisses your forehead as he picks you up and wraps your legs around his torso. "Let's get you cleaned up. You were amazing sweetheart," he whispers, as you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in his shoulders.

｡⁠.ﾟ⁠+⁠ perm taglist: @alvojake @cha-eui @heeslut4life @dollywons @wondipity @dr0wnme0ut @emi-en @enhabooks @seunghancore @jakesangel @star-hoon @diorsyun

#pockettwinzz writes #enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen fluff #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #enha smut #enha imagines #enhypen jake #jake smut #jake x reader #jake fluff #jake fanfic #sim jaeyun #jaeyun smut

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foreingersgod · 2 days

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i saw ur post that u write for paige… maybe a teammate fic? i don’t really have a plot in mind but i trust that beautiful brain of yours 😁

Friendly Banter . PB

pairing: paige bueckers x reader

synopsis: you and paige may be teammates, but it’s hard to get anything done if you also happen to be dating

A/N: iiiiii kind of hate this :(

“your defending could use a bit of work, baby” you heard a familiar voice from the sidelines “don’t you think?”

you held back a smile, kissing your teeth as you turned on your heels. there was no one else in the gym except you and paige, the two of you deciding to get some extra drills in before practice tomorrow morning. you had just been practicing some shots and different dribbling drills while paige sat back to stretch for a while. there wasn’t anyone to defend, rather paige just wanted an excuse to tease you.

“i think my defense is actually quite good i’ll have you know,” you scoffed, bouncing the ball slowly as she walked towards you “what exactly could use the work, hm?”

“well for starters,” she said, matter of factly, cocking her head to the side. she rubbed her hands together and shrugged in your direction “you’re not being physical enough”

that made you chuckle, throwing your head back lightly in amusement. you nodded your head and rolled your eyes, “oh really?”

“really, i’d never lie to you, babe”

“care to enlighten me then?” you asked, her tall figure now standing over yours “i mean, you’re kinda obligated to help your girlfriend out, right?”

“oh i’d be more than happy to” she snickered, licking her lips as she looked you up and down. she got lost in you for a moment, you could tell, her eyelashes fluttered against the smooth skin under her eye as she surveyed your every move.

“well then show me, smarty pants,” you shoved her chest slightly, feeling yourself growing flustered by her intimate glances. you’d never get tired of the way she looked at you “what do i need to do?”

she slid past you, hands gripping your waist to hold you in your place as she came up behind you. it was silent in the empty gymnasium apart from the sounds of paige’s shoes squeaking against the varnished floors as she assumed her position. you were now facing the same direction, your back to paige’s chest as she leaned against you.

“you gotta be more assertive, you know?” she all but enticed, talking seductively into your ear. she was so close to you that you could feel her warm breathe on your neck “don’t be afraid to push your opponent around a little bit”

“i’m gonna defend you while you try to drive it in,” she continued “and i’ll show you how it’s really done”

you snorted, blowing a nervous breathe from your nose. she always knew how to get you riled up. her hands were hovering over you as you thought of a strategy to get the ball past paige. you began dribbling the ball, backing into her slowly which caused you to collide with her. the curve of your backside fit comfortably against her pelvic bone. instantly, you could sense paige’s breathe hitch at the contact, making you smirk. knowing its effect, you backed up even more, pushing against her harder to push your way closer to the net. she defended you to the best of her ability as she tried to keep you away, but the way your hips moved against her made it difficult for her to focus. while she was caught off guard, you faked her out and sprinted around her to drive it up and into the net. you cheered for yourself as paige shook her head in defeat, rubbing her hand across her jaw in disbelief.

“that’s how it’s supposed to be done?” you laughed, scrunching your nose “and you say my defense needs work?”

“that’s not fair,” she said “you were distracting me and you know it”

“i was just playin’ the game, paige! you’re the one who can’t get her mind out of the gutter long enough to defend me!” you came up to her, hands finding their way up to her shoulders, giving them a gentle rub.

“can you blame me?” she furrowed her brows “i don’t know anyone can even play at all when you’re out there on the court”

“maybe that’s my method of defense” you beckoned, teasing her harmlessly. you nodded your head behind you, motioning to your ass “don’t have to do much if everyone’s looking elsewhere”

she looked at you offended, raising her eyebrows as she widened her eyes “oh it better not be, nobody should be looking at my girl like that except for me”

“whatever,” you smiled, protective paige was your favorite “you have nothing to worry about, baby, nobody’s looking at anybody”

“you better hope so” she said, leaning down to place a chaste kiss to your lips “or you’re gonna be in trouble”

the tone of her voice made your knees weak, this was her way of getting back at you for your little comment. you kissed her once more before she pulled away from you, starting to make her way back to where both of your belongs sat on the sidelines.

“oh how so?” you prodded, already knowing the answer. you followed her as you chased her down, watching as she packed up her things. she handed you your duffel bag and draped her own over her shoulder.

“i could tell you,” she began as you both started to make your way out of the gym, heading for your car. she placed a strong hand on the small of your back, fingers snaking under your shirt, tugging you into her side with force “but id much rather show you instead”

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #paige bueckers x you #rpf x reader #rpf #wlw #wlw imagine #lesbian #lesbian imagine #pride month #i love paige bueckers #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #foreingersgod

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imsosleepyofyourbull · 2 days

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I firmly believe that Kabru is autistic but masks so hard that he’s convinced himself and (almost) everyone around him that he’s neurotypical.

That man’s special interest is people and how they work, but he just thinks it’s him Being So Good At Socializing — like he doesn’t spend 95% of his time people watching and adjusting his personality in response to the traits he witnesses and obsessing over the intricacies of human interaction while mapping an ever growing relationship chart in his head. For fun. He even admits it in the manga!

Like, look at him!!!

It’s such a shame that — because he’s the narrative foil to Laios and his interest is generally considered more “socially acceptable” in both their world and our own — more people don’t realize this about him. He’s constantly misinterpreted as a horribly manipulative person who only acts the way he does to use the people around him, when that’s explicitly shown to not be the case at all. Kabru is naturally empathetic and is almost always thinking about other people, regardless of whether or not they’re right there with him or a thousand miles away.

I mean, his most defining motivation is his desire to do everything he can to avoid another tragedy like the one at Utaya. Someone who doesn’t care wouldn’t have a goal like that, and they most certainly wouldn’t go about it the way he does. He’s constantly working to help people who can help everyone else and tries so hard to make sure that anyone who seems like a threat is actually someone he needs to worry about before doing anything about it. His supposed aversion to Laios is only because of the ridiculous trolley problem he’s set up in his own head.

Outside of that, he (rather justifiably) hates monsters but is desperate to understand Laios’ love for them and his apparently most selfish goal in getting close to the guy was literally just to become friends with him.

When he’s interacting with the canaries and they imply that they’re going to take him and all of his friends to the West, his first thought is of Rin and how much she’d hate to be stuck in the place that gave her so many bad memories.

He helps Kuro learn Common when Mickbell is asleep and firmly looks forward to the day that the half-foot and Kuro can communicate properly so that their relationship can get properly started without any miscommunication.

And he understands Mithrun with only a handful of weeks AT BEST interacting with him, getting enraged when the elf seems to give up and immediately trying to help him find a new motivation for life.

I’m excited just thinking about the day that Kabru starts unmasking more and more around his friends — both new and old — because if being with my current friend group has taught me anything, it’s that hanging out with anyone so unabashedly themselves is bound to make you more comfortable with yourself too. It’s part of the reason why I like Labru so much! There’s something nice about imagining them hanging out in the throne room or laying in the grass outside and talking for hours on end about their special interests. They might not strictly understand what the other finds so fascinating about monsters or people, but they can grasp that shared feeling of love.

They probably influence each other in really good ways too, with Kabru helping Laios figure out what people are thinking even when it doesn’t make sense or Laios helping Kabru understand that not everyone and everything needs to be analyzed a thousand times over. They both get to learn that there are people like them and people who will love them without them ever having to change a thing about themselves. They deserve to know that they’re fine the way they are.

#I have so many more thoughts about these two #like how Laios is actually the one who couldn’t really care about people outside of his immediate friends and family #that his love is the one that would burn down the world if it meant the people he cared about got to be as safe and happy as they should be #always as themselves #never as the corrupted versions of them in their nightmares or by the winged lions distortions #which is how Kabru would learn to be more selfish and needy #encouraged to act on his own desires and help other people at the same time #these two have ruined me #especially Kabru #because I’m predictable and my other two favorite characters are Tachihara Michizou and Nara Shikamaru #dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi kabru #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi laios #laios touden #dungeon meshi rin #rinsha fana #dungeon meshi mickbell #mickbell #dungeon meshi kuro #kuro #dungeon meshi mithrun #mithrun #labru

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clockwayswrites · 20 hours

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City Pigeons Bleed Green - Part 15

Danny was sitting on his bed, legs crossed with his blue bear set on his lap. He was stroking a thumb over it’s nose, gaze absently out the window.

Jason leaned against the door frame. “Danny?”

The blue eyes snapped to Jason. They were a different color from Bruce’s, just slightly. There was that damning green ring around the outside of the iris, just like Jason’s own, but the green bled less into the blue for Danny.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Danny said with a small smile and a duck of his head. He moved his hand from the bear’s nose to rub at the back of his neck. “I guess it’s just been a long day.”

“Makes sense, lot of busyness all day,” Jason agreed. It really had been. From meeting Steph with breakfast to games after when Tim joined them at lunch, new phone in hand, and then with Duke there briefly for dinner, fully suited up, the safe house had been full all day. Jason had worried about it being too much, but Danny seemed happy, if slightly quiet. But then again, Danny was almost always quiet. “Do you need me to stay? Nightwing will be here in about two hours to change over with B.B., but I’ll stay if you need me to.”

“No, you should go,” Danny insisted. “I’ll just be asleep, I figure I’m going to crash after today.”

Jason smiled a little. It was nice to have Danny sound more like a kid lately. “I bet. Call me if you need, O will make sure that the number on the phone patches into my comms.”

“What if you’re busy?”

“Then O will talk to you herself or pass you to another Bat. There’s always one of us around for you.”

Danny’s smile looked a little wobbly as he nodded, and Jason gave into ruffling the kid’s hair before he left to go make a much needed appearance at Crime Alley.

“You’re healing well,” Nigthwing said as he smoothed down the last bandage.

“Yeah,” Danny said softly, ruffling the towel one more time through his hair so that he didn’t have to look at Nightwing.

It was still a marvel to be touched gently like that.

They all showed such care with him and his wounds. It made everything all the more obvious to Danny. Nightwing and the others were interested to see if he was healing so that he could be well. His par— they had been interested for far different reasons.

He hadn’t seen it when he was a kid with scrapped knees from falling off his bike.

Now he couldn’t unsee it.

He was always an experiment to them, wasn’t he? He was never their kid. If he had been their kid they wouldn’t have been able to cut into— to take— to do… to do….

“Danny?”

Danny sucked in a sharp breath through his nose and tried to blink away the memories. “What?”

“There you are.” Nightwing’s smile was sad as he brushed back a lock of Danny’s hair. Hadn’t Nightwing just been wearing gloves?

Danny ran his fingers over his bear, grounding himself in the soft texture. His bear. He was on the couch wrapped in a blanket holding his bear.

He had just been in the bathroom.

Danny blinked slowly. “I, um…”

“It’s okay. You just went away for a bit. I moved you when you stopped answering me. It’s been about seven minutes. Nothing’s happened.”

“Oh.”

Hadn’t he been getting better? He hadn’t thought… Why did he have to think about them?

“Hey, Danny, it’s okay, you don’t have to cry,” Nightwing said, “or, you know, cry if you need to! That’s okay too. Just, we’re not going to let anyone hurt you here.”

Danny sniffled and turned his head to rub his face against the blanket. Nightwing shouldn’t promise that— he couldn’t promise that. They didn’t know what Danny was. They didn’t know who was after him. It was unfair to ask that of them— to make them feel like they had to promise him that.

“I’m okay,” Danny said with a watery smile.

He wasn’t.

“How about a movie?” Nightwing suggested and Danny was grateful for the out.

He tried not to cling as they settled into the couch to watch through the Jurassic Park movies.

“The newest one is stupid in all the right ways,” Nightwing said cheerfully. He must have known that Danny wanted to cling, because he tucked Danny close after everything was set up.

Danny watched the movie without seeing it.

They thought they had to take care of him.

They couldn’t promise that. They didn’t even have the whole story. Sure, Hood had died too, but he was so different than Danny in that. Hood had come back. Hood was alive. Danny didn’t count as alive anymore, not even in this form.

Did Danny ever really count as alive?

He was just an experiment.

A test.

He was never supposed to have ever been.

Danny let his eyes close. What movie were they on now? Did it matter?

Did any of it matter?

He wasn’t supposed to have ever been.

Maybe he shouldn’t have ever been, but there he was. There he was, dead and alive. A child and a monster. And he knew, worst of all, because of what he was they would never let him go. Danny knew that, it’s why he had run to Gotham. He thought that maybe if he could just get the money to leave the country somehow… Bruce Wayne had to be able to do that. Even if— even though there’s no way that Wayne would care about Danny, he had hoped maybe he could get the help. A one off to be out of Bruce Wayne’s life forever and not a media scandal. He just needed to…

The gentle fingers carding through his hair started to chase away Danny’s thoughts.

But the Bats had found him.

The Bats had found him and the Bats cared.

Danny wanted that. Danny wanted that so desperately that it hurt him. He’d been just taking advantage of it too, hadn’t he? Because he wanted it he’d been taking it without them knowing what he was. And now they were acting like they wanted him to stay.

But they didn’t know.

Danny’s breath caught in his throat, feeling like it was choking him.

He had run to Gotham. He had run to Gotham but that wouldn’t stop them. They would find him here. They would find him and because of him they would find Hood. They would find Hood and take him too. And then they would find Robin. They would find all these wonderful, kind people that had been touched by death in all these ways and they would take them. They would take them and cut them apart and—

Danny bit his lip so that he couldn’t make a sound.

They would find him if he made a sound.

“It’s okay Danny, just rest.”

Danny’s eyes snapped open. The afternoon light from the window in his room was playing across his face. His heart thudded in his chest. He was afraid.

But he was afraid with a sense of certainty that he hadn’t had before.

“Go get Danny for lunch,” Jason said as he flipped the sandwich on the pan with the same intense focus that he did everything these days.

Dick had to fight back a smile. Getting to be around his little wing so much over the past weeks had been great. Sure, Jason was still mulish and snapped easily, but Dick had also gotten to see so much more of who Jason was behind that defense. Dick loved getting to see that. Giving into the urge to smile, Dick gave a little salute and swung himself off the counter.

Maybe if they were lucky all this could continue after they got Danny settled. It had to, right? Jason seemed pretty attached to Danny, not that Dick could talk, so Jason was sure to come over to see their new brother. Dick would still have time with Jason.

Dick gave a soft knock on Danny’s door before opening it a crack. If Danny was still asleep, Dick didn’t want to startle him.

Except Danny wasn’t still asleep.

Danny wasn’t even in the room.

The bed was fixed and Danny’s tablet and phone sat neatly in the middle.

“He just in the bathroom,” Dick tried to assure himself even as his instincts screamed that was wrong. Silently, silently purely out of habit, Dick approached the bed.

The tablet’s screen was on.

Dick picked it up with hands that only stayed steady from years of training.

No.

No, no, no—

“Jason!”

Thank you. Thank you for saving me and caring for me and wanting me. Thank you. You all mean so much to me and that’s why I have to go. I have to go before they find me and then find you all too. I can’t let them find you. I’ll never forget you. Don’t look for me. -Danny

--- AN: *puts on my halo* I'm innocent?

This prob could use a few more editing passes but I am still sick and tired so taaaada (no concrit needed, it will get edited before ao3). Hopefully you all still enjoyed(?) it! Stay delightful, darlings.

#dp x dc #batpham #city pigeons

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alchemistc · 17 hours

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Donato spots it first - Tommy's been fidgeting with the just-too-short sleeves of his shirt for the past ten minutes, fingers curling into the ends of the arms, thumb sliding along the hem like maybe he could make them long enough to fully cover his wrists just by thinking really hard about it. It's stretched tight across his shoulders, the neck hole feels too high, biting into his skin, and Tommy is absolutely certain it's been hemmed in at the fucking waist, because he can barely keep the damn thing tucked into his pants.

(The cost of having those fucking magnificent gazelle legs is apparently torso space.)

"You shrink your shirt in the wash again, Kinard?"

Tommy's been begging their vendor to switch to a jersey blend for years because 100% cotton undershirts are a goddamn bitch and a half to maintain.

Tommy thinks about ignoring the question entirely. They've been razzing him for weeks about the way every single smile line in his face has been putting in overtime lately.

And then she gets a closer look at it. The merch is usually the same cross-department, but every once in a while some probie will get stuck with the task of ordering a few extras to have as backups around the station and they'll go a little too hard on customization. Like, for example, the one he'd picked off the top of his clean laundry basket without looking in his rush out the door this morning.

Lucy's eyes narrow. She reaches forward, pinches the 118 emblem blazing across the breadth of his shoulder, takes in the color and sturdiness of a shirt he definitely can't play off as being old enough to have been from his own time at the One Eighteen.

Donato grimaces so mockingly Tommy nearly warns her that her face'll get stuck like that. "Christ, Kinard, how fucking domestic are you two?"

(Three days off together after a week of getting by with random texts, their schedules nearly opposite, and when Evan had stared at his overnight bag on day two and realized he didn't have any spare undershirts he'd pouted up a storm about the fact that if he had to go back to his place it didn't make a lick of sense to turn right back around to Tommy's, so Tommy had just thrown Evan's dirty undershirt in with the rest of his own laundry. And then prompted Evan to throw all his other stuff in the wash too. Halfway across the city, Evan is definitely rolling too-long sleeves over his palm with the tips of his fingers and Tommy does not have time to think about how much he likes the idea of that )

"He doesn't even know my how I take my coffee," Tommy snipes, like that avoids the question, and across the locker room Johnson slams his locker shut with a snort.

"Because you've been using his increasingly more desperate attempts to figure it out as some weird intricate mating ritual for three months now."

"It's about --."

"--the journey, not the destination," they both interrupt, eyes rolling, and Tommy doesn't bother to try to hide the grin in his face.

"He just wants to get it right so bad."

Donato's face is unimpressed. "Ugh. Can you please stop being so smitten right in front of me? I'm gonna throw up."

Tommy leans in for the kill. "Your wife ever buy you flowers, Johnson? Because I've been trying to decide how much thought went into the arrangement he brought me on Saturday, and I figure -." He dodges the palm Johnson extends towards his face with a bark of bright laughter.

---

Evan 2:15 PM

Boyfriend privileges are a SCAM

Evan 2:15 PM

Why is YOUR NAME on the back of this shirt? There's no way that's standard

Evan 2:16 PM

Chimney's being homophobic

Evan 2:19 PM

Nvm Gerrard saw it and now I'm just sad he didn't actually have a heart attack about it

#bucktommy #bucktommy ficlet #oh shirt sharing/stealing my beloved #tommy and buck secretly enjoy the razzing so much they make it a point of being obnoxious about how smitten they are

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paigebueckersloverr · 3 days

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Three's A Crowd

This is a multiple part story. This chapter does not have smut. But the next one does, so stay tuned and feel free to critique. I am always open to suggestions and overall thoughts. Thank you.

Stream of the Day: Novacane 🤍

Contents: Paige And The Reader Attend Paige's After-Game Homecoming Party. Where Reader Finally Meets The Infamous Laliah A Former Flame And Now Friend Of Paige's. Which puts both the reader and paige on edge as laliah makes no mistake in letting paige know she still thinks of her.

THINGS TO KNOW: The Reader Is Black As I Am A Black Girl.

Although, Paige Takes On More Of A Switch Role? Sorry, Yall She's Not Getting Dicked Down...For Now.....

Warnings: Kissing, Fingering, Swearing, Vibrating Strap, Breeding, Degration, Praise, Groping, Possesive Reader, Suggestive Language, Possesive Paige, Jealous Reader, Jealous Paige,* I can't think of anything else right now. * COMING SOON!!!

Word Count - 1.6k MEN And MINORS DNI

☆ Salem's Thoughts ☆

This Story is purely fictional I have no personal relation to anyone mentiond. And I have no malicious or weird intent when writing. These fanfictions are purely for enjoyment and obsessed girls like me.

☆ Salem's Final Thoughts ☆

Please be mindful I'm a little rusty at writing as I haven't Written serious fanfiction. Since my wattpad days, I'm Also dyslexic so read at your own risk.

Paige’s after-game homecoming party was in full swing, the living room pulsating with laughter and music, but all the sound seemed to fade as I laid eyes on Laliah. She was standing by the kitchen counter, her dark curls tumbling over her shoulders as she leaned in close to Paige, their shared history palpable in the way they moved. As I walked closer, I could see the flicker of recognition in Paige’s eyes, a mix of nostalgia and unease. Laliah's smile was warm yet carried an edge, her gaze lingering on Paige longer than necessary, making it unmistakably clear that old flames still flickered in her heart.

Earlier That Day....

I sighed as I finally turned off the alarm set for 8:15 AM, groaning softly as I pushed myself out of bed. The morning light filtered through the curtains of our hotel room in Minnesota, where Paige was born and bred, her dream of becoming a UConn Husky now a reality. Her family had moved away a year and some change after she left for Storrs, but Minnesota still held a special place in her heart. I moved quietly around the room, gathering Paige’s bags for practice and the upcoming game.

The city was buzzing with excitement, the air thick with anticipation for the game. Paige and Laliah, once formidable teammates at Hopkins, were now playing on different teams, and their reunion on the court was the talk of the town. This trip was a homecoming of sorts, and the shared history between Paige and Laliah added an extra layer of intrigue to the event. Little did they know paige and laliah shared more than a court together.

Later that day, after the game, the real test would come at the after-game party, where I knew I’d finally meet the infamous Laliah, a former flame and now friend of Paige’s. The thought of Laliah’s presence set me on edge, knowing she still harbored feelings for Paige. With a deep breath, I pushed the thoughts aside, focusing on getting everything ready for Paige’s big day.

Paige stirred in bed, her eyes fluttering open as she sensed my movement. She stretched and then sat up, her expression a mix of excitement and anxiety. "I'm nervous about the game," she admitted softly, running a hand through her hair. "It’s been a while since I’ve played in front of a hometown crowd, and with Laliah on the other team..."

I walked over to her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and pressing a light kiss to her forehead. "You’ve got this, my love. You’ve trained so hard, and everyone here knows what an amazing player you are." I smiled, trying to infuse my voice with confidence. "Plus, it’s just another game. You’ve faced tougher challenges."

She smiled back, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Thanks. I just...I want to make everyone proud."

"You will," I assured her, then hesitated before continuing. "And about meeting your former teammates tonight...I’m a little nervous too. Especially about Laliah."

Paige's smile faded slightly, and she nodded. "I know. It’s complicated, but you’re the one I’m with now. She’s just a friend."

"I trust you, my love," I replied, squeezing her shoulder gently and running my fingers through her hair. "But it’s still a bit intimidating, you know? Meeting people who’ve known you for so long and finally seeing Laliah after everything..."

"We’ll get through it together," Paige said, her voice steadier now. She leaned in, giving me a soft kiss. "Just focus on the game for now. We’ll deal with the rest later."

After reassuring Paige, we finished getting ready and headed to the arena. The drive was filled with quiet moments of hand-holding and exchanged glances, a mix of excitement and underlying nerves. As we pulled up, the bustling energy of the city was evident, fans already gathering in anticipation of the game.

Inside the locker room, the atmosphere was electric, teammates greeting Paige with enthusiasm. I found a spot in the stands, the sea of familiar faces reminding me of just how significant this game was. The crowd erupted in cheers as the teams took to the court, and I spotted Laliah warming up on the other side, her presence a stark reminder of the evening to come.

As I scanned the crowd from my seat in the stands, my eyes eventually landed on Laliah. She stood out effortlessly, her presence commanding attention without even trying. Her dark curls framed her face in a cascade of effortless elegance, and her smile, though warm, held a hint of mystery. Dressed in her vibrant mustard yellow and worn leather red uniform , she exuded confidence and grace.

Beside me, Paige's family chatted excitedly, her mom waving enthusiastically at every point Paige scored. Her dad and stepmother watched intently, their pride evident in every cheer and applause. Paige's two little brothers were bouncing in their seats, their energy contagious, while her little sister sat quietly, eyes fixed on the game with a thoughtful expression.

The game was intense, both teams playing with unmatched vigor. Paige moved with a grace and determination that made my heart swell with pride. Each basket, each defensive move, showcased her dedication and skill. But it was impossible to ignore Laliah's equally impressive performance, the chemistry between them on full display even as opponents.

Amidst the excitement, I couldn't help but steal glances at Laliah, her interactions with the crowd and the game itself a fascinating study. Despite the history between her and Paige, there was an air of familiarity and respect in the way she engaged with everyone around her.

Paige's family, oblivious to the significance of Laliah's presence, continued to cheer and celebrate each play with infectious enthusiasm. As the final buzzer sounded and uconn emerged victorious, the crowd erupted in cheers, and I quickly rushed down to meet her. She wrapped me in a tight hug, her face glowing with the thrill of victory.

"We did it," she whispered, her voice breathless.

"You were amazing, my love," I said, kissing her cheek. "Absolutely amazing." She said as she spun us around and cheered. In the locker room, amidst the jubilant cheers and high-fives, Paige and i shared a quiet moment of celebration, her arms wrapped tightly around me as we basked in the euphoria of victory.

After the locker room celebrations, Paige and I retreated to our hotel room to get ready for the party. As Paige changed into her usual attire—a black button-down shirt paired with loose trousers—I opted for a more toned-down look, slipping into a sleek yet understated dress that accentuated my curves in all the right places.

As I smoothed down the fabric of my dress, Paige sauntered over, a playful smirk playing on her lips. "You know, I think I prefer you in less clothing," she teased, wrapping her arms around my waist from behind.

I chuckled, leaning back into her embrace. "Oh really? And here I thought you were all about the mystery."

She nuzzled into the crook of my neck, planting soft kisses along my collarbone. "I like a little mystery, but I also like knowing what's underneath," she murmured, her voice low and suggestive.

A shiver ran down my spine at her words, the familiar heat of desire igniting between us. "Well, lucky for you, you've already unwrapped this package," I replied, turning to face her with a playful grin.

Paige chuckled, her eyes darkening with desire as she pulled me closer. "And what a delightful surprise it was," she murmured, capturing my lips in a searing kiss.

As we finally made our way to the party, the playful banter between Paige and me took on a tense edge, each teasing remark and stolen glance fueling the simmering jealousy between us. The air crackled with unspoken tension, our insecurities festering beneath the surface like a wound that refused to heal.

As we mingled amidst the crowd, Paige's gaze lingered on Laliah for a moment too long, and a surge of Jealousy with a hint of anger ignited within me. "Can we talk?" I hissed through gritted teeth, pulling her aside with a firm grip on her arm.

Paige's eyes flashed with frustration, her own insecurities about the night finally bubbling to the surface. "What now?" she snapped, her tone sharp and defensive.

"It's about her, isn't it?" I accused, my voice trembling with anger and hurt. "You can't deny that there's something between you and Laliah."

Paige's jaw tensed, her expression defensive. "She's just a friend, damn it!" she spat, her voice laced with frustration. "Why can't you trust me?"

But trust was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the lingering stares and whispered conversations that passed between them. "Because it feels like I'm competing with her for your attention!" I shot back, my voice rising in desperation.

As our argument escalated, the tension between us reached a boiling point, our words a painful reminder of the growing rift between us. And amidst the chaos, Laliah approached, her presence casting a shadow over our already strained relationship.

We soon put the argument to rest, realizing that no one would come out happier than when we entered. In Paige's attempt to reassure me, she gently guided me over to Laliah, attempting to make introductions. Despite the lingering tension, Paige's gesture was a small but significant step towards easing the palpable unease that hung in the air. As we approached Laliah, I felt a surge of apprehension coursing through me, unsure of how the encounter would unfold. Nevertheless, I squared my shoulders and forced a polite smile, ready to face whatever lay ahead.

"Laliah, this is..." Paige began, her voice trailing off as she glanced uncertainly at me, her hand still clenched in mine.

"Y/N, her girlfriend and secretary on occasion. I interrupted, my tone cool and clipped. As I smiled softly and reached out for a handshake, which she returned steadfastly, "I've heard a lot about you."

Laliah's lips curled into a knowing smirk, her gaze flickering between Paige and me with a hint of amusement. "Likewise," she replied, her voice smooth as silk. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you both."

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #sapphic yearning #paige bueckers x black!reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #uconn wbb #uconn women’s basketball #uconn huskies #nika muhl #kk arnold #Spotify #black fem reader #women #salemswriting

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merakiui · 2 days

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me & you, beyond a horizon so blue.

scaramouche/wanderer x (gender neutral) reader cw: slight angst, brief and vague mentions of scaramouche's past and the shouki no kami fight, you and wanderer have adopted a child together, this fic takes place before scara tries to erase himself in irminsul note - after he's defeated in a fight against the traveler, scaramouche wakes up in the distant future and learns a few things about an emotion he's always felt undeserving of.

It’s dark until he has the courage to force his eyes open.

Immediately, he wants to shut them. Near-blinding, the afternoon sun beams into his room through a part in the curtains. If he were human, it would have caused some sort of irreversible retinal damage. He’s not—though he isn’t spared the impending irritation—and so he’s able to adjust with relative quickness, his indigo eyes soon finding comfort in the brightness. It means a new day has dawned. He’s not dead—if that mortal concept can even apply to a puppet like him.

With a weak groan, Scaramouche drags a hand down his face and, like a sluggish, reanimated corpse, sits up in bed. The sheets are clean and soft, a soothing balm amidst the unrest that vibrates through him. It has been a long while since he’s slept through the night, preferring the shadows over the sun. Nocturnal like nature intended. A creature created in gloom can change and adapt, but it will always seek familiarity no matter what.

Intrinsically like a rooted habit.

It’s only natural he would be forced into sleep, considering the fall was not pleasant, nor was the inevitable impact. He brings his fingers to his cheek, presses against the area, and assesses for injury. Nothing is damaged.

But then nothing is fixed. Not internally.

Having expected the dreary interior of an infirmary, he’s struck with bewilderment when he makes note of the bedroom he’s currently confined to. It’s furnished like a typical residence, unlike that of any inn he’s ever known, and there is a strange sense about this space. As if he’s always known about it and has just recalled it, destined to wake here one day and submit himself to its simple charms.

This can’t be right.

He’s never seen this bedroom before, let alone slept in it. Until now, that is. Perhaps a part of him has subconsciously willed it into existence with all of his fruitless wishing, the result of some illusion weaved from the intricacies of hopeful dreams.

Scaramouche glances at the bedside table, his brow furrowed in the beginnings of a wary scowl. Something is so obviously, painfully not right. He knows it has something to do with this room and the fact that he’s alone and unguarded. Lesser Lord Kusanali is not a fool, no matter how much he’d like to comfort himself with that delusion, and so he knows there should be no reason why he’s here instead of where he’s meant to be.

And then he hears them—voices. Three of them, actually. One is high and giggly. It’s a little girl. Judging by the intonation of the other, an adult. Her guardian, to be more exact. He can’t place the third, especially since it’s one that sounds so grossly affectionate. He’s never heard anyone, human or not, speak with such tender warmth.

He’s never known such a thing. Not in a long while.

Scaramouche throws the covers off at once, stumbling from the bed in a panicked flurry. Watching it like it’s a threat, he clutches his chest. He doesn’t feel a heartbeat; rather, it’s the crackle of Electro deep within the core of his being that resounds, fizzling like snapped, angry circuitry. His fingers dig into wrinkled fabrics and he takes pause, realizing his actions.

To think something as mundane as a bed could startle him.

To think comfort would feel like a curse.

What a joke. Even here, I’m not allowed the peace of a lonesome parting.

He walks on intact legs, bidding the room a final glower before throwing the door open and stomping outside. Wherever he’s found himself, whether the mortal coil or a place beyond, he’s determined to get out. He pays no attention to the picture frames on the wall as he stalks down the hall, his mind working twice as fast to conjure a plan. If this place proves to be foul, there will be casualties. Three of them.

Bloodshed is nothing new.

What is new, though, is the scene he walks into when he approaches the kitchen, stepping through the threshold and immediately stopping short when he sees himself.

Only…he’s different.

“You’re in poor shape,” his other self comments, almost conversationally, as if this sort of talk is casual. He’s dressed in breezy colors: whites and blues, the prettiest of hues. It’s a color scheme he would never entertain at present, but it sings of free skies with fluffy cumulus. An unburdened soul, light as a feather.

Scaramouche opens his mouth to retort—so are you—and shuts it because that’s not true. His other self looks better than ever as he sits at the table. He looks healthy.

He looks happy.

“Whoa! There are two Papas?!”

He flinches, horribly rigid, every sense on high alert. His gaze pans over to the little girl peeking out from behind your legs. She looks at him like he’s a wonder to behold—like he’s someone worth adoring.

It’s different. It’s not the fondly fearful gaze of a devout follower, nor is it the clinical stare of a mournful creator or a deranged doctor. It’s something else.

It’s…

What is it? What is that emotion—the one that has evaded him for the entirety of his existence?

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead. We were beginning to wonder when you’d wake up.”

He turns to look at you. A smile softens your features. Coupled with the glorious sunlight filtering in from the window, you are the most seraphic creature he’s ever seen. Horrified at the development of his thoughts, he hardens his face into a vicious glare and tamps down the weakness that rises to the surface.

“You were expecting me?” he asks, but it sounds like a demand. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“Why don’t you take a seat? I can fetch you a cup of tea,” you offer, your voice gentle and coaxing. He glances at the little girl. Her gaze is worn down with worry.

“I will do no such thing,” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “You have no authority over me. I’ll sit if I so please, and I do not please. So I will not sit, nor will I indulge in tea.”

His other self barks out a laugh. “To think I was like that… I was intolerable.”

“Still are,” you reply with a cheeky grin.

“You’re just as bad,” he snipes back, but there isn’t any heat to the remark. There’s that emotion again, reflected so clearly when he’s looking at you. His other self smiles—genuinely smiles—and then addresses him next. The smile tightens into something serious. “Relax. We’re not going to bite.”

“No, but I can and I will. Don’t think for a minute that just because you’re me I won’t—” He stops himself when the little girl tugs on his shorts, peering up at him with more wide-eyed concern. Rather awkwardly, he does his best to bring his attitude to a child-friendly level. “I… I’m fine.” He searches the silence for her name.

“Aaliya! Nice to meet you, Papa Number Two!”

Scaramouche nods mechanically, moves to bend down to her height, and then straightens again, thinking better of it. “What is all of this?” His hand sweeps across the room. “Just who are you?”

Like clockwork finely tuned, you and his other self exchange a furtive glance before nodding. It’s some unspoken language Scaramouche can’t decode. He frowns as he watches this interaction, even more suspicious than before.

“Aaliya, could you draw something for me?” you ask, guiding her from the kitchen towards the neighboring sitting room. Aaliya grabs a notebook and pencil from the countertop as she goes, humming her compliance. “We need another masterpiece to hang up, and you’re the best artist we’ve got.”

She giggles. “You can count on me!”

The sound calms him. He almost allows his shoulders to drop. Almost.

Scaramouche watches from the doorway, observing the way you interact with the girl. It’s parental and adoring. You care for this child, and she cares for you.

Just what is that elusive emotion? Why can’t he place it?

Once Aaliya has been successfully distracted with the allure of art, you return to take your seat beside his other self. Scaramouche stares between the both of you, utterly lost.

“You don’t have to sit—not like I could get you to after you’ve made up your mind—but, at the very least, let’s talk.”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrow. “Speak.”

“So entitled…” His other self sighs. “I shouldn’t expect anything less. I am you, after all.”

“Was,” he corrects astutely. “This isn’t the present day, and it can’t possibly be a dream.” He scrutinizes his surroundings, slowly fitting the pieces together. “It’s gone on for much too long.”

His other self tilts his head, playful. “Are you sure you’re not just stuck under Buer’s thumb?”

Right. Dreams. Lesser Lord Kusanali can poke her nose in and out of dreams as she pleases.

“Plausible, yes. But this is too detailed. And you—” he gestures to Blue Scaramouche— “are different. I wouldn’t dream of something so inane. Something like…this.”

Something so carefree and content, he almost tacks on as an afterthought, but he refrains. Weakness.

“Oh, but of course. You’re too good for good things,” his other self jeers, sardonic in a way that incites violence. He pushes that urge away. There’s a child nearby. “For what it’s worth, we’re still the same person.”

“Do not compare me to a weakling like you.”

“Hah? You think I’m the weak one? I’ll show you—”

“Wawan, relax,” you say, moving your body to obstruct his view.

Both look on, horrified.

“Wawan?” Scaramouche ventures, brows furrowed.

“You…” He turns away with a huff.

“What? It’s cute! You like it!” You smile and nudge him.

Scaramouche is in awe, nearly slack-jawed from witnessing such a bold display. If anyone were to do that to him—to the fearsome Lord Harbinger Scaramouche—they would not get away unscathed. In fact, he’d subject them to a death so brutal they’d beg for release even in the afterlife. No one lays a finger on him unless they’re actively seeking a bloody finale. More importantly, no one reduces his being to such flowery nicknames.

Disgusting.

His other self—this Wawan fool—recovers from his flustered state and clears his throat. “Wanderer,” he says, hurrying the syllables before you can make any more comments. “The name I go by. You should know it because you’ll use it one day.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Wanderer’s expression softens at that—out of sympathy, he realizes. Uncharacteristic, Scaramouche thinks. I do not soften, nor do I sympathize.

“You lost, Balladeer. There is no future for the god you hoped to become because he doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

He bristles, suddenly defensive. “And who’s to say I haven’t already achieved godhood? Your claims are as useful as a corpse. You have no valid proof.”

“But I do. I’m you.”

“Even so, you’re woefully uninformed if you can so carelessly prattle on about—”

Wanderer sighs again, and this time you offer your hand. He hesitates, looking between Scaramouche and you, before his hand slips into yours, holding tight. Scaramouche’s face twists.

Foul.

“You failed, and this is the result of that—the future neither of us could have foreseen.”

“Failure is a strong word,” you chime in, running your thumb over the top of his hand. You look at Scaramouche next. “You didn’t succeed, yes, but you can learn from your mistakes and grow.”

“And grow I so apparently did,” he mutters, bitter and resentful. “Into a weakling who…” He pauses, his tongue heavy in his mouth, eloquence escaping him. “A weakling who… Who shackles himself to idyllic nonsense with nothing but…” His fingers curl into tight fists. “Nothing but filthy weaknesses to show for it.”

Nonplussed, Wanderer submits to temporary silence, to the comforts you provide. There’s a feeling sprouting between the both of you. Neither of you says anything, but you understand regardless. It’s a silent sort of communication, an undeniable connection. An understanding fostered from that despicable emotion.

With an offended scoff, Scaramouche turns swiftly on his heel and freezes when he finds Aaliya standing there. She peers up at him, studies his poker face, and presents him with her drawing.

“Papa tells me love is hard, but it comes easy when you’re with the right people. You need to be willing and accepting. When you are, love will find you and you’ll find love.”

She presses the parchment into his hands. Shakily, he beholds it. It’s a poorly drawn family portrait, but Aaliya’s artistic talents mean nothing to him. It’s the first time he’s ever been willingly included in a portrait. A family portrait. The only time someone has bothered to document a side of him that isn’t the vindictive, villainous, ever-raging tempest he’s known for. The one time he’s ever known what it means to be loved.

Ah. There’s that emotion. That temperamental, difficult, stormy emotion. It’s love.

In this future, he is treasured and cherished. He has a family. He has love, and he feels it and it’s reciprocated. Or Wanderer feels it, that is. But Scaramouche can see it: the quiet intricacies of your relationship—it’s all the result of love. You love him. Him—a being who was never created for the sake of loving. A being who has always been undeserving, unfit for the burden of divine admiration and reverence. You love him, and he loves you. Godhood and power and control—none of these things matter when compared to love itself.

Scaramouche stares at Aaliya next. He folds the drawing into a neat square, clutches it in a trembling fist, and—

And he cries.

Silently. His shoulders do not shudder. He does not gasp and wail like a newborn. It is entirely soundless, a reaction delayed by years. Tear trails streak down his porcelain cheeks in steady streams. His lip wobbles.

And he cries.

He cries as he brushes past Aaliya, ignoring her protests and your mumble of, “Let him go. He needs space,” while he flees, beelining for the bedroom. He cries when he unfurls his fingers to cradle the folded square in his palm. He cries when he thinks of the life he’s lived—the suffering and the lies and the tragedy and the backstabbing and the manipulation. He cries because he can’t hold back anymore. Because he failed. Because he will never be a god. Because he is inadequate in the eyes of the divine—as unsubstantial as a common pest.

He cries because he’s loved. Because someone has found something within his fractured being that’s worth loving.

He cries into the night, curled in on himself to protect what’s left of his exposed weakness.

It’s dark when he closes his eyes, and unlike before they remain shut. Because if he opens them—if he doesn’t patch up the damaged floodgates—he will cry.

And it hurts to cry.

And Scaramouche, for all of the pain he’s dealt, has never enjoyed being on the receiving end of agony, self-inflicted or otherwise.

It is a long, sleepless night punctuated with the soft pitter-patter of rainfall.

He’s lying sprawled like a defeated starfish when the first few rays of sunshine poke through the window. Groaning, he slides his arm over his eyes. He knows himself, even if Wanderer is a version of himself he has not yet experienced, and so he doesn’t expect to be checked on. The silence is both a comfort and a curse, smoothing his nerves and chewing through to the core of his being.

He thinks I’ll come to him first. How utterly foolish.

Scaramouche turns his back towards the sun and presses his face further into the sheets, drained of energy even though he’s just woken up. His ears prick at the sound of a girlish giggle and he lifts his head slightly, his eyes sliding towards the window. Aaliya skips down the pathway, carrying a basket in one hand and holding another girl’s hand with her other.

A friend, Scaramouche observes, watching the girls until they’re out of sight. He hears you call out to them even though they’re already long gone: “Be back before dinner and don’t get into any trouble!”

He peers at his own hand and flexes his fingers experimentally. Is everyone this feeble in the future, or am I just too strong?

There’s a knock on his door next. He intends to lie back down and block the world out, but instead he sits up and stares.

“Balladeer, I’ve put a pot of tea on. You’re more than welcome to have some if you’d like.”

He won’t dignify you with a reply. Or that’s what he initially thinks, but then he’s covering the distance to the door before he can stop himself. He yanks it open, much to your surprise.

“I—” he starts, his scowl mellowing into a reflection of the cold and cruel Fatuus he’s known to be. “I…will have a cup,” he finishes, oddly subdued.

“You don’t have to force yourself to talk. You can glare at us if it makes you feel better. Just make sure to take care of yourself, okay? We’re here for you if you need anything.”

He scoffs, straightens his posture into something regal, and pushes past you. “I was feeling much better until you opened your mouth and spat that irritating dross.”

You exhale through your nose, tentatively stepping into his path. For a minute he considers sweeping past you, but deep down he knows that he—the one he supposedly becomes in the future—would regret it. He would hate to push you away when you’re making an effort to be close—an emotional proximity he’s so clearly avoiding.

“You’re always welcome here.”

“Considering the circumstances, you have no choice but to be hospitable. It’s pointless to feign sincerity just because I’m here. I’m not fragile. Do not treat me as such.”

“You’re right. You’re far from fragile.”

He opens his mouth to argue that point and then pauses, absorbing your words with a dubious frown.

“You may not believe me, but you’re very resilient and so strong. I should know because I wake next to him every morning, and his existence is enough to remind me that he’s come a very long way.”

Smiling, you continue onwards. Scaramouche stalls, wondering what that could possibly mean. A very long way from what?

He’s not sure he wants the answer to that.

As if it matters.

“Without spoiling too much, I’ll say you’re in for a world of development,” Wanderer says once Scaramouche has graced the kitchen with his arrival. He’s sitting at the table, which is set for three people and adorned with the usual Sumerian snacks. The scent of tea hangs in the air, fragrant like perfume. “Lots of fun things.”

“Fun,” Scaramouche parrots, his nose scrunching. “What an unconventional way to refer to countless days and nights of agony.”

“I never said it’d be easy.”

“You never said it’d be difficult either.”

“Both of you,” you cut in—vocally and physically, you’re standing between the two of them— “no fighting at the table.”

Wanderer takes your hands in his when you lower into the seat beside him, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns into your skin. “Do you see how troublesome he is? Did you really have to put up with him all those years ago?”

“He’s part of you, Wawan.”

He scoffs. “No part I particularly care for anymore.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest so the couple in front of him won’t pick up on his discomfort. “I’m not asking to be cared for or coddled. Hate me all you want. I don’t intend to like either of you.”

“Well?” Wanderer raises a brow, a smirk lazily tugging at his lips. “Insufferable.”

“Bitter like your tea,” you agree, to which Wanderer and Scaramouche huff in unison.

They glance at one another, searching the other for an indication of mutual tolerance, before turning away.

“I suppose,” Scaramouche says after a beat of silence, “I shall indulge. Be grateful.” He steps closer towards the table, lifts his cup from its saucer, and brings it to his lips. It’s lukewarm and just as bitter as the tea he’s enjoyed in the past. “It would be a shame to let tea go to waste after your efforts to prepare it.”

He nods in your direction and you beam under his approval.

“Thank you, Balladeer.”

His brow raises, but he doesn’t ask. You fill in the blanks yourself.

“This is the current you. Right now, Wanderer and I, this entire home, the life we share, and even our dear Aaliya—none of it exists in your present. If anything, we’re just a dream to you. So who else are you if not The Balladeer?”

Who else…

“Obviously I’m no one in this…reality.” He frowns. “If I’ve become that, there’s no need for any of my current aliases.”

“Perhaps not, but you’ll see for yourself when you get there.”

“I’d rather not. I’ll simply shut my eyes.”

“Avoidance is a common symptom of unresolved trauma,” Wanderer oh-so-helpfully adds.

“Oh, you’re a comedian now, are you?” But he isn’t laughing.

“Just passing on a fact I learned. You’ll hear it for yourself one day. Why not share it in advance? Soften the blow a little.”

“And you’re so perfect?”

“I have no intention to be.”

“Sure.” Scaramouche sips his tea, swallowing the torrent of insults weighing heavy in his mind and on his tongue. “I suppose all of this just fell into your imperfect lap then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before they can continue their petulant bickering, you gaze sharply at Wanderer and then at Scaramouche. He’s never felt compelled to obey anyone; he’s never needed to heed those who have always sat below him on the hierarchical pyramid. But for some reason he shuts his mouth and lowers his gaze to the floor.

This is pointless. I must find my way out of here at the earliest convenience before he drives me into the ground with his irritating sentiments.

“Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. He’s our guest, first and foremost. We should treat him like one.”

“I guess it can’t be helped. If this truly is our reality for the next few days, there’s no point in living in denial and self-loathing,” Wanderer concedes with a huff.

“Which is precisely why we should welcome this opportunity. It might not come around again.”

“Let’s hope it never does,” Wanderer and Scaramouche admit at the same time.

That elicits a giggle from you, and they turn on you with disapproving glares. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny—I know. I just couldn’t help it. You’re the same person, yet so different. Even your stares hold different feelings.”

Scaramouche won’t acknowledge your observations with a response. Instead, he watches his reflection as it warps and wavers in the tea. And then he drinks.

This is by far the most excruciating dream I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

There is no pain or death in this dream. No power tantamount to that of a god. He may as well be an apparition without an apparent place in this world. But there is domestic bliss and that is by far the most torturous aspect of this dream.

To think anyone could look upon my visage with such tenderness… You must be out of your mind.

“It’s not like I particularly care, but you seem to lead a quaint life.” Scaramouche sets his empty cup down and leans against the wall, his arms folding impetuously. “Why?”

Wanderer, troublesome menace that he is, bats his eyes and pulls you against him in a possessive half-hug. “Difficult to believe, isn’t it?”

Scaramouche wants to scowl, but he refrains. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“It’s mostly quaint,” you cut in, smooth as alabaster. “Life is always busier when you’re with your loved ones and there’s plenty to do—never a dull moment, as they say—but I don’t mind it. I like busy days.”

The delivery sounds rehearsed, but Scaramouche suspects it’s the truth. Your eyes soften and your smile mellows into something adoring when you nudge Wanderer. He almost retches outright when his other self nudges you back, discreetly reaching for your hand beneath the table. He won’t comment, but it prickles his skin with disgust when he watches this display. His other self fancies you so openly… The current Scaramouche would never.

Could never.

“Also, busy days prevent useless idling.”

“And keep boredom at bay,” Wanderer finishes. He assesses Scaramouche with a fleeting once-over. “You’ve always been a sad, lonesome existence. Your busy days were but minor distractions meant to fill a bottomless void that could never truly be filled.”

“What of it? I prefer solitude.”

He exhales a humorless breath. “Centuries of solitude and all it took was a single vase of flowers… Neither of us could have guessed.”

A vase of flowers? he wonders, bewildered, but too prideful to ask for an explanation. When will I ever receive flowers?

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” you say, sipping at your tea with a cryptic smile. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “I’ve had enough ‘good things’ for the rest of my life.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Even if you don’t think so, you’re deserving of good things. Everyone is, even if they’ve done something bad.”

He waits for the gutting punchline. It never comes.

He watches the world beyond the window: fluffy clouds, grass rustling in a breeze, a bird hopping about on the ground. His reflection frowns back at him. “I don’t agree.”

Wanderer shrugs. “If you say so.”

“That’s okay. If that’s what you think, who are we to judge your opinion?”

Briefly, Scaramouche wonders how you can have the patience to put up with him. With Wanderer, he thinks, even though he knows he’s just as troublesome, if not more.

He finishes the rest of his tea and then rises from his seat.

It’s not as if it matters. He doesn’t fit in this family portrait. He never will.

But he does in some distant future.

How peculiar…

Scaramouche wakes on his third day in a rather pleasant purgatory. As it happens, he’s still stuck in this unusual cottage with a bizarre doppelgänger.

So be it, he thinks, sitting up in bed. It occurs to him that he hasn’t been very resistant since he was plucked from his timeline and dropped here. But what is there to resist? You and his other self? This comfortable home? Family? Happiness? Love?

I should get back to my world as soon as possible. That��s my priority. Do not get distracted.

Ideally, he’d like to imagine that’s where he belongs, but he knows there’s no place in this world—or any other world and timeline—where he’s wanted and accepted. At the very least, there’s some semblance of home in his timeline. Even if it isn’t the most welcoming.

When he wanders into the kitchen, he finds you standing over the stovetop. Strips of meat sizzle in a pan. Sitting at the table, doodling on a blank page, is Aaliya. He hasn’t spoken much to her since his first day, and she hasn’t come to his room to pester him.

“Let him settle in,” you and Wanderer tell her whenever she stalks past the closed door.

Still, he feels the beginning of a smile pull at his lips as he watches her kick her legs to and fro to an imaginary tempo.

I’m looking after a child in this timeline. Me. A parent…

He struggles to fathom it.

“Oh, Papa’s back!”

“Already?” You whirl around, a greeting on your tongue. “Ah, no, honey, that’s our visitor. The Balladeer is his name. He does look like Papa, though, doesn’t he?”

“B-Balla… Ballaba… Babadeer?” She scrunches her face up, perplexed.

Scaramouche offers her a gentle, understanding smile. “You may call me ‘Baba’ if it’s easier to pronounce.”

She lights up immediately. “Okay! You’re Baba and Papa’s Papa!”

He finds that the term is more endearing than any alias he’s taken on in the span of his lengthy existence.

“Speaking of, where is he? I would assume he’d be smart enough not to leave me by my lonesome.”

“He’s out for the day. Won’t be back until later.” You lift the pan from the stove and proceed to distribute breakfast between two plates. He shakes his head at you when you attempt to fix him a plate. With a shrug, you add, “You slept in. How was it?”

“Acceptable,” he admits, lowering into the chair beside Aaliya. “I suppose it’s better than most places.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You place a cup of tea in front of him. “Bitter. Just how you like it.”

Scaramouche eyes it like it’s poison. “Your hospitality is…appreciated.”

“What do you think?” Aaliya lifts her drawing, proudly showcasing the portrait she’s sketched of you.

Scaramouche is a critic of many things. Art is not one of them. Still, he takes the page in his hands and spends a moment admiring the shaky linework.

“Very wonderful,” he praises, and he means it. “You should become an artist.”

“I want to, but I also wanna be like Papa. He’s really smart.”

“Is he now?”

“Mhm! He’s studying at the Akademiya. My friends told me only really smart people go there.”

I’m a scholar? Truly? He looks to you for confirmation. The proud smile on your face is answer enough. To think this is what becomes of me in a distant reality…

“A commendable occupation. You should always do your best in your studies. They’re very important. But most of all…” He hesitates. Thankfully, his other self isn’t here to listen to his encouraging words and ridicule him. He’s certain he’d never hear the end of it. “You should pursue what you enjoy.” He reaches out to pat her on the head. “Always dream, Aaliya.”

“I will! I promise.”

Scaramouche doesn’t do promises, but somehow he’s convinced by this one.

You sit across from him. “Time to eat, my dear. You can finish your pretty drawing later.”

She nods and pushes her pencils and crayons away in favor of focusing on her plate. Scaramouche watches, stiff and awkward. Family meals are not an unusual occurrence, but it’s been so long since he’s spent quality time with another living creature. With humans.

Am I really so foolish that I’d willingly indulge in a life with humans? Don’t I know better?

“Wawan told me your arrival might be linked to a faulty Ley Line. We’re not sure when you’ll return to your world—if that’s even a possibility—but until we know more you can stay here with us.”

“If I must. Although I assumed that was already established.”

You chuckle. “Is that right? Then it looks like you’ve gotten comfortable in the three days you’ve been here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your singular deeds are not enough to earn my veneration.”

“I’m not trying to.”

With a huff, he averts his eyes. An uncanny feeling crawls up his throat and settles on his cheeks. You hide your playful grin behind your utensils and eat alongside Aaliya in peaceful silence.

If only everyone could see him: a puppet now named Wanderer, who attends the Akademiya and has a family of his own. A puppet who seems complete when he surrounds himself with his loved ones. It’s impossible to live in denial when all of it is unfolding before his eyes like a fantastical tale in a storybook. He really can’t believe it.

“Tell me—am I fulfilled in this reality?”

You blink back at him, and suddenly he regrets asking. There’s vulnerability in a question like that. An open wound waiting to be exploited.

“Will knowing put you at ease?” Before he can snap back with a defensive reply, you add, “I suspect you’re already aware of the answer.”

He stares at the amber-colored tea in his cup. “I am,” he confesses quietly.

“And do you feel any better?”

“Am I supposed to feel that way?”

“I can’t tell you because there’s no right or wrong way when it comes to emotions. You just…feel them.”

Just feel them?

“I’m more conflicted than anything else. That Wanderer fool… He can’t truly be me. I would never allow myself to grow so weak. To surround myself with weaknesses… How utterly thoughtless.”

“What you see as weakness is his strength.”

Scaramouche’s gaze slides from the tea to you. “And he… And I… I’m happy here? This isn’t a grand farce?”

“As absurd as it seems, this is to be your reality. You’re not always going to be happy. Sometimes you’ll dwell on the past. Sometimes you’ll feel angry and upset. It’s all part of existing.”

“That sounds horrendous.”

“What does?”

“Existing. Isn’t it tiring? I’ve never understood how humans do it.”

“It’s tiring, yes. But it’s also very rewarding. To exist is to cherish happiness and weather hardship. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough. Sometimes all you need is enough.”

What if I’ve never had enough? What if I’ve never had anything?

He shuts his mouth. So many questions flit around in his head, but he already knows the answers to most of them. He just doesn’t want to hear it from himself.

To have enough when you’ve never had anything—when you’ve never felt like anything substantial—he surmises Wanderer can sympathize.

The first few drops of rain patter dry earth. Like dolls moved with wire, you and Scaramouche turn towards the window to watch water beads pearl on verdant fronds.

“Oh, it’s raining!” Aaliya exclaims with a delighted giggle.

Scaramouche reaches to touch his cheek. A single tear wets his fingertip.

“Huh,” he mumbles. “So it is.”

Sitting on the stoop, watching worms wriggle in wet soil, Scaramouche sighs.

“Did you know the worms sometimes lose their way when it rains?”

“Is that right?” he murmurs, glancing at Aaliya who scoops one up from the stone path and places it in the grass. He smiles at her kind impartiality. “It’s very admirable of you to help them.”

“Mhm! Papa tells me even worms need homes, so it’s important to help them when the rain washes them away.”

He breathes a laugh that sounds more like a scoff. “I really said that? That’s difficult to imagine.”

Ironic, too.

“If no one helps, how will they find their homes?”

“They’ll find their way. Everyone does eventually.”

“Even you?” She blinks at him from where she stands in the grass, worms held in her palms.

He exhales slowly and gazes skyward. The clouds have opened to let in the tiniest peek of sun. “If worms can find their way, then so, too, can I.”

He’s not sure he trusts it. Not now, at least. But it’s just as inevitable as the shifting seasons—an undeniable, irrefutable fact. He’s changing, if only slightly, and soon he’ll be in Wanderer’s shoes—a puppet with a home and a family. With all of life’s greatest joys and sorrows at his fingertips.

Aaliya sets the worms down in the grass before meandering over. She lowers to sit beside him, resting her head against his arm. “I believe in you, Baba.”

“Thank you.”

Soft as rain, subdued like a snuffed candle, his voice doesn’t waver. For the first time in a while, Scaramouche is defenseless. He’s not so sure he believes in himself. Wrapped in waning sun, listening to the hushed sway of grass, he tries on a smile. Albeit awkward, it fits.

He knows why his future self has become the wind, free and flowing, gentle and tumultuous all at once. Liberated from the past.

Even though he has his doubts, he knows he’ll get there soon.

The sky clears up just as Wanderer’s form comes into view. At first, he’s an insignificant pinprick against a blue sky. Aaliya jumps up from her spot on the stoop to run the rest of the way, calling out to him in an eager voice.

“Feeling any better?”

He keeps his eyes pinned stubbornly ahead. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

“You’re our guest, silly. Of course I’m going to be concerned if you’re not comfortable during your stay. Ah, but I expect you’re coming up on the end of that, aren’t you?”

He blinks at his hands and realizes they’re transparent. “So it appears.”

“Does it?” you tease, patting him on the shoulder. Or you try to, at least. Your hand goes through him. “Guess it wasn’t very funny.”

“Not in the slightest,” he snaps with a scoff. He checks to make sure Wanderer isn’t within earshot. He’s kept occupied with Aaliya, who jumps around him like an energetic bunny. “But… Thank you…for everything. I’m aware I wasn’t the most grateful guest, nor the kindest.”

“You don’t have to be. As long as you felt safe and secure during your time here, despite everything that’s happened in your timeline, that’s all that matters.”

Scaramouche stares at you. I suppose it was a worthwhile escape. Unnecessary, but worthwhile.

“It wasn’t as hellish as I thought it’d be.”

“I’m glad. It was nice having you.”

Just then, Wanderer approaches. Aaliya sits proudly on his shoulders, her fists in his hair. “Glad to see everything’s still in one piece. No atrocities today?”

Suddenly, any sort of security Scaramouche might have been feeling evaporates. He’s reminded that it’s impossible to endure his other self for more than a few minutes. It’s actually impressive you’ve put up with him for this long.

Love is weird like that.

“Go back to the Akademiya and maybe you’ll learn a better sense of humor.”

“Aren’t you a bundle of joy?” Wanderer chuckles and levels him with a playful smile. His next words are tender and truthful. “Good luck on your journey. Have lots of fun.”

What sort of fun could possibly be found in pain? I don’t want or need your sardonic optimism.

“Oh? Baba’s leaving already?”

Scaramouche and Wanderer share a look. You smile behind your hand.

“Baba?”

“P-Pay it no mind!” He reaches for his hat in hopes of relieving everyone of his flustered expression and stops short. He’s not wearing his hat. He hasn’t had it this entire time. Refusing to admit he forgot such a crucial detail, he turns away and folds his arms over his chest. “It matters not.”

“Sure,” Wanderer concedes, but Scaramouche can tell he’s thinking something snarky. “We’ll go with that.”

“Thank you for visiting us,” you interject before the two of them can argue semantics. “Even though our time together was short, it wasn’t any less enjoyable.”

“I’ll miss you, Baba!” Aaliya extends her arm for a high-five.

“Careful now,” Wanderer warns, steadying her on his shoulders. “I suppose, though you’re more trouble than anything, it wasn’t so bad seeing my past self again.”

“You’re a welcoming lot,” he says with a curt nod. “It made this entire debacle slightly tolerable.”

“Only slightly?”

“Your presence didn’t add anything of substance. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Hmm. Perhaps not. At least I get to say I saw you once more.”

At that, he rolls his eyes. Am I supposed to feel flattered?

Wanderer smiles, but Scaramouche can’t place the authenticity. Maybe it’s there and he just doesn’t want to confront it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know the feeling well enough.”

“And live every day one at a time. There’s no rush,” you advise, sweet like a real parent.

“I believe in you, Baba! You’ll find your way just like the worms.”

Wanderer raises a curious brow, but instead of ridiculing him he takes your hand in his and squeezes. Aaliya giggles and pats Wanderer’s head. The three of you make a family. Togetherness. Love. It’s everything he’s never had.

Now he understands. When Wanderer is with you and Aaliya, he’s whole. He’s happy. Free. He’s turned a new leaf. There are still so many apertures and questions—so much he’s missing from a puzzle not yet pictured to completion—but he isn’t worried. Equipped with this new information, he finds himself at peace with the present situation.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever have the chance to meet again in this timeline, but if we do let’s not dwell on the past.”

Scaramouche can feel his consciousness slipping from this realm, every sense pouring in like light through the gaps in trees. Just before he can make sense of it all, he notices the pendant glowing just above Wanderer’s chest.

Impossible… Is that what I think it is?

“You have a lot to look forward to, so next time let’s talk about the future.”

Suddenly, he’s not so sure he wants to leave. Scaramouche steps towards his other self, hand splayed, and wants to say something. Anything. A million words and phrases stick to the roof of his mouth.

I’d like that, he thinks just as the rest of his corporeal form vanishes in a blip.

Scaramouche comes to in the infirmary. He lifts his arm towards the ceiling, observing shattered fingers and broken joints. Thin cracks run along his arm—surface injuries as far as he’s concerned. They’ll be gone within the day, a testament to his self-sufficiency.

You’re very resilient and so strong. Someone once told him that. But who? And why does it warm him so?

“Oh, you’re up!”

He gazes sidelong at Lesser Lord Kusanali, the God of Wisdom, past the wellness bouquet on the bedside desk, and his features harden with antipathy. “Buer.”

“Did you have a nice dream?”

“Dream?” He scoffs. “I don’t dream. Not anymore.”

But it feels like I’ve been asleep for ages… Just what have I been doing all this time?

“Everyone dreams—even when they’re awake. Dreams are what give us hope.”

“Not me.” He turns on his side and shuts his eyes to block her out. “I have no need for childish dreams and misguided hope.”

What does it matter? I have nothing. I am nothing. There’s nothing for me in this rotten world.

Her hum of acknowledgment reaches his ears. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Scaramouche scowls. Stop poking around in my head. You have no authority over my thoughts, Buer. Get lost.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m here to give you a second chance.”

“I don’t want it. It’s pointless to put me on the path to redemption. Inane, even.”

“Redemption starts with recognition. If you realize that what you’ve done is wrong and are willing to change, redemption will find its way to you.”

He inhales a long, weary breath. “What more is left for me?”

Scaramouche, despite his grandiose title, feels small lying here and contemplating the worth of his existence.

“Plenty of things—good and bad—that you’ve yet to experience.”

He tries to envision what these things could be and turns up blank.

Strange. I was so certain… He sits up in bed, clutching the space where his heart would be if he was human. I could have sworn there was something…

He gazes at his palms next. What happened while I was unconscious?

Surely he witnessed a joyous scene. Otherwise why would he wake feeling so…hopeful?

Inhaling a resolute breath, Scaramouche decides it doesn’t matter.

“Why don’t you take some time to think about it? I may not know the full extent of the turbulence in your mind, but I do know it’s not something to treat lightly.”

The void is both loud and quiet when she departs, and now he’s forced to come to terms with his reality. He lost. Even as a manufactured deity, he was still unfit for godhood. It was a moment so short-lived it was practically a blink—insignificant in the colossal tapestry of time.

“What a joke,” he spits, glaring at the wall ahead. “All of that for nothing…”

He sits back against the cushions and drowns in the silence. It doesn’t comfort him.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Where has he heard that line before?

Perhaps it was just another delusion.

Scaramouche’s gaze is drawn to the bouquet next. The flowers are fresh and vibrant, each blossom a representation of good health and happiness. Someone placed these here. Someone went out of their way to assemble a bouquet in his honor and then send it over. He wonders if this is the work of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

Who else could muster the empathy for a sorry creature like him?

Will knowing put you at ease?

He thinks it might. At the very least, it would soothe a restless part of his being—the part that craves a connection and yearns to be wanted despite everything he’s done. He wants a heart and a home. He wants to feel the rays of the sun stinging his skin and bathe in the exhilaration of being alive and in the moment. He wants to finally know all of the sweetness he was deprived of in life. The sweetness that comes from love in all its many shapes and forms.

Scaramouche reaches for the bouquet and pauses. He could swipe it off the table and watch rumpled petals scatter amidst shattered glass in a puddle. He could ignore it and pretend it’s not worth his time or attention.

He wants to act like it doesn’t matter, but something’s nagging at him.

For once, the feeling isn’t terrible. For once, he has something to look forward to—an anchor to cling to in this vast, wild sea.

And he isn’t going to let go.

#genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader

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cntloup · 23 hours

Text

medieval au

periods :'(

as simon had promised before, he never forced himself on you. and you know he's not that kind of man.

you’ve felt forced and used your whole life. but with him, it feels like you can finally breathe. he makes you feel safe, and free.

but now, he can sense the heavy tension between you. he knows you're not that close, at least not yet. but he thought that you'd feel more comfortable as time went by. now he feels disappointed that it's not the case at all as you drift away from him more and more each day.

yes, you've been distant the past few days. and it all started suddenly, making him think he did something wrong which in return, makes you feel horrible as you beat yourself up over it.

but you have to do this. he doesn't have to deal with your issues right now. as if a curse has been cast upon you since you were born, because you're a woman.

that's what you were taught anyway which you always considered unfair, even cruel.

you're now curled up in your bed as waves of painful cramps thrash through your body, making you curse everyone and everything, the gods and all that for making you go through this every month.

you put a hand over your mouth to muffle your sobs of pain and you scream into the pillow when it gets unbearable.

that's when he enters the room with a worried expression etched on his face, eyebrows furrowed in concern since you haven't gone out of bed all day.

he finds you curled into yourself, eyes squeezed shut and you're too lost in the excruciating pain that you don't notice his presence until he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder as the bed dips with his weight on it.

"what's wrong, love?" he asks softly, "nothing! please just go!" you burst out, voice coming out whiny due to the pain coursing through your abdomen as you clench it tighter.

you almost feel ashamed. it's a curse. a shameful curse that you must endure all your life. you're being punished. but for what sin? being a woman?!

the thoughts run around your mind until you decide to cast them away. it's all stupid nonsense you've been fed since you were a child.

you lift your head to face him and his gaze softens the moment he sets eyes on your glossy eyes and pouty lips.

"tell me, love. please. i need to know." he says, gently wiping away a stray tear on your cheek.

'he's my husband for god's sake! he should know what the hell i'm going through!' you think to yourself.

"it's just my monthly bleeding." you mutter quietly, lips wobbling slightly.

"oh..." he pauses, nearly taken aback. he's heard some vague stuff about it, but of course, he doesn't know fully well what's going on.

"is there something i can do for you?" he asks, feeling helpless and deeply worried.

"i... it really hurts." you whine and he makes his way to lay behind you and takes you into his embrace, strong burly arms wrapped around your body.

"tell me where it hurts, love." he whispers in your ear, making you shiver, the low timbre of his voice sending a wave of heat right to your core.

you take his hand and guide him to your lower belly, "here." you say, pressing on the back of his hand and he starts to tenderly massage the area as his lips find your neck, softly trailing kisses on your skin and moving to your shoulder.

the delightful feeling of his large rough hand caressing your sensitive body and his light kisses on your skin make you floaty and hazy.

"better, love?" he asks after some time, lifting his head to look at you and noticing your droopy eyes which makes him chuckle.

"hmm... much better." you hum lowly in contentment since your pain has subsided and it feels so good to be in his arms, so warm and safe.

"get some rest, love. i'll be right here when you wake up." he murmurs and places one last kiss on your neck as your eyelids slowly drape over and you drift into a slumber.

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 2 days

Note

Could I request headcanons for whb kings (Lucifer, Satan, Leviathan, Beelzebub, and Mammon) reacting to MC asking if they can buy matching half heart necklaces for both of them to wear where each necklace has a half a heart to connect the other half? Only if he's interested! If my description doesn't makes sense, please search "matching half heart necklaces" on Google!

I don't think any of them would mind if you asked, so I'll just write about Mc gifting them the necklace. Also, for everyone's knowledge, I see all your asks. If I don't answer it, it's because I conciously deleted it. There's no need to send it multiple times over.

Mc gifting the kings matching heart necklaces

Satan would get a bit flustered over it. Did you want a necklace like his and this is your way of convaying that? He would take off his necklace and replace it with the one you gave him. Whenever you're together he'd try at least once to click them to form a full heart. He might be the devil, but he's also such a boy failiour when it comes to you.

Mammon would wear it with such pride he'd put Lucifer to shame. Whenever he interacts with someone he'd be like "Do you like my necklace? My master gave it to me." Would have prefered a collar, but anything gifted by you is worth more than the world to him. Happiest devil imaginable.

Leviathan would scoff. Really? You think he would wear such a childish accessory? In his grave... literarly, he would wear it in his coffin and giggle like a school girl. Would ask you if anyone else has recieved a smililar necklace from you and throws a hissy fit if they did. He covers it up with his clothes, but he wears it 24/7.

Beelzebub would be glad to wear it. He never takes it down, so you'll be able to tell which is the og Beelzebub. It becomes his favorite stim toy, constantly fidgeting with it. He would connect the heart with yours all the time and he gets pouty if you don't want to.

Lucifer would just stare at it in confusion. This must be a human cuarting ritual... right? He heard that humans wear jewlery to represent a romantic bond. He could have sworn they were usually rings, but you're a peculiar creature even compered to your bretheren, perhaps you just wanted to be quircky and unique. Such pride comming from a human. He'll accept your gift, wearing it around his neck all the time and he expects you to do the same.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb satan #whb mammon #whb leviathan #whb beelzebub #whb lucifer #whb x reader

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pit-and-the-pen · 3 days

Text

Broken Pieces

Based on this request by @romantasyreader28. Thank you again for the request <3

Warnings: non-sexual nudity, brief mention of death

Wc: 3.3k

Azriel was truly at a loss. You had come back from your last mission, different. Something that in all your years working together had never happened before. All the years since being your mate, being your husband. Azriel never saw you take a mission this hard before.

He should have sensed something was off sooner. He was the spymaster for the Night Court and he couldn’t tell when his mate was upset?

You had just come home. Walking into your shared room bleary eyed and limping. The hug he wrapped you in was quickly shrugged off. Sliping from his hold in a way that he’d never seen you do before. He put it down as exhaustion. A three day mission by yourself always wore you out. So he drew you a hot bath, helped you peel off your clothes.

“Azriel can you…Nevermind.” You spoke, something dimming out from your eyes. He raised his eyebrow but you turned your back on him. He just thought you wanted some privacy to deal with the layer of grime on your skin. He ignored the small pang of hurt that ran through him. You would almost always beg him to join you in baths. More than once, you’ve pulled him by his jacket into the oversized tub. Not caring that the floor got soaked or that the clothes were that much harder to take off when they were wet. You would melt in his arms only once he had your back pressed against his front. But not today. Not wanting to overcrowd you, he stepped out of the bathroom, placing the towel within arms reach and going to grab your bathrobe. He knew how much you hated leaving the warmth of a bath only to have to walk across a cold room to get dressed. Normally that wasn’t a problem because Azriel would just carry you. Normally would find other ways to make sure you kept warm.

He sat awkwardly at the edge of the bed. Not knowing what to do with himself. He leaned back on his hands and tried to keep his rising panic away from the bond. You were just tired. He kept reminding himself.

Eventually, you walked out of the bathroom. Clutching your bathrobe for warmth. You walked over to the dresser by the foot of the bed and started pulling out your nightclothes. Azriel’s hands twitched slightly when he saw you drop your robe to the floor, leaving you bare in front of him. Pushing himself off the bed, he walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle. Light kisses pressed against your bare shoulder. You head lolled back, body finally relaxing against him. He dragged his kisses up to your neck and he felt you stiffen under him. You took a step away from him, putting just enough distance for Azriel to get the message. “Love,-”

“Azriel, please. I just want to go to bed.” He truly was beginning to panic. You were obviously allowed to not be in the mood, he would never dream of insinuating otherwise. But you wouldn’t even look at him. As much as his blood was roaring for you, he just wanted to see your smile. She’s just tired. He was all but chanting to himself. But as he let you crawl into bed, he knew it was something more than that. When he went to send a wave of comfort down the bond, he was met with no more than a brick wall. His eyebrow furrowed. Not once had you blocked off your side of the bond. Neither of you had. Not when your job required so much distance and was so dangerous. He was shaking as he walked over to his side of the bed. The side you normally insisted on occupying half of so he would have to pick you up and pull you onto his chest. He was at a loss for words. He just stared at your frame. Unable to think about the right thing to say to you. He had never felt more helpless in all of his time of being your mate. How many times have you comforted him? How many times did you patch him up when he wanted nothing more than to fall apart? And here he was gaping at your turned back. Unable to return that for you.

He climbed into bed and went to wrap his arm around your now shaking frame. His heart broke at the sob that broke past your lips. It broke even further when you scooted out of his grip without a word. He was forced to listen to your sniffles and see the shake in your shoulders without being able to comfort you. He didn’t fall asleep until he heard your breathing even out, until the sniffles stopped and he knew you were asleep.

The next morning you were still asleep when he woke up. He didn’t hold much hope that you were going to be magically better this morning but a small part of him wished it to be true. Even though you were right next to him in bed, having curled up into his side during the night, he felt so far away from you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you for what might be the only time today. You nuzzled deeper into his side, the soft snore that left your mouth the only indicator that you were still asleep. He just held you, his mind reeling with ways he could fix this.

You started to stir in his hold. He didn’t let you go, only loosened his arms so he wasn’t squeezing you as much. You curled into him even more before you stiffened, he saw your eyes for only a second before you pulled his arm off of you and turned away from him. You didn’t look at him again as you climbed out of bed and went to the dresser to grab clothing for the day. You stalked over to the divider in the room and Azriel could only see your faint outline as you changed and walked out of the room, leaving without so much of a glance his way. He just sat there, looking at the slightly open door and let you walk away.

Azriel was out of ideas. So he dressed slowly and then headed down the hallways to Rhys’ study. He didn’t knock and his brother took one look at him and put down the paper he had been looking over.

“How is she?” So Rhys knew.

“I don’t know. She won’t talk to me. Did she..”

“She didn’t come see me after her mission and that’s never a good sign.”

“I don’t know what to do. Rhys she won’t even let me touch her.” He felt a slight tinge of shame at talking to Rhys about this, about your personal life like this. But he needed his advice. He really needs both of his brothers' advice. And like he could hear him, Cassian walked into the room. He sat in the chair next to Azriel. A shadow slinking up Azriel’s shoulder to give him an update about your whereabouts, the priestess library. Well at least you weren’t fully alone. He would accept that. But it also meant you didn’t want to talk to him. His brothers must have sensed his growing anxiety because Cassian placed a light hand onto his shoulder, sympathy shining in his eyes.

“I have to watch as the girl I love… slips away” Azriel spoke to his brothers. Rhys’ face dropped and even Cassian didn’t dare to speak. “I don’t know how to help her or even if she wants me to help her but… I just don’t know.” And if there was anything Azriel hated in this world, it was not having an answer. No amount of spying or sneaking would help him fix what was going on in your own head.

“She probably just needs time.”

“Rhys, she’s fully blocked me out. I’m losing my mind right now not being able to feel her through the bond.” Rhys shook his head, understanding the feeling all too well.

“Just give her time.” Was all his brother said. Azriel’s shadow’s became a flurry at the thought, wrapping around him and hiding him from his brothers views. He knew he needed to give her space but the urge to comfort his mate was eating him alive already. What type of mate was he if he couldn’t make you feel better? He didn’t want to think about it but it was starting to consume him.

You didn’t return to your room that night. He waited for hours, sending his shadows all around Velaris to look for you. They found you in your old room. Curled up, crying herself to sleep. Very sad, needs you, sent us out of the room. They informed him. Regardless of his shadows all but pulling him from the bed, he stayed put. If you wanted to be alone, he would give you space. As much as it killed him to do so.

Easier said than done apparently. He lasted all of three days before he started to seek you out. Something that was very hard to do when he personally taught you how to avoid being detected. If it wasn’t for his shadows, he wouldn’t even know you were still in the house. But everytime they told him of your location, you would be gone before he could reach you. It was the most frustrating thing he had ever experienced. He was wound so tight he was starting to avoid Rhys and Cassian, for no other reason than he couldn’t stand to see the concern in their faces. Azriel had barely been able to sleep without you next to him, with his shadows all but screaming at him to go to his mate every second of the day.

HE was going crazy, he knew it. His hands were clenching and unclenching by his side as Rhys was speaking to him, not listening to a single word coming out of his mouth. Your figure passed by him in the hallway and it was all he could do to politely excuse himself from Rhys’ side. He ungracefully ran to catch up with you. He was about to grab your wrist before you froze in front of him. You stood facing away from him, but didn’t move, utterly still.

“Please. Just look at me.” He felt his skin crawl as you still didn’t move. HIs shadows had wrapped around your shoulders, your arm,your legs, all over you. You didn’t lower your shoulders. But he was graced with the slow turn that brought your tense face into his view. The muscles in your jaw clenched tight, eyes casted over his shoulder, refusing to look him in the eye.

“PL-”

“Azriel, I can’t… I can’t talk about it. Please just stop.” Your lip trembled, voice tense but soft.

He sank down onto his knees, maybe begging, maybe praying to a god to be able to help you.

“Please, what's wrong.” Azriel clutched your hand. You looked at him but he could tell the slight fog in your eyes that you weren’t truly seeing him. You shook your head as your eyes returned to him. As you were pulled from that memory.

“You’ll hate me if I tell you. I hate myself.” You choked out.

“Darling, I could never hate you.” You shook your head at his words.

“No, this was… unforgivable.”

“Do you know what I do for this court? Trust me, I’ve seen and done far worse.”

“It was a kid. They were a shifter. I didn’t know until I was holding their lifeless body. Until their mother broke down the door. She was…I should have let her kill me.” Your hands were shaking, you were rubbing them against the leg of your pants. Trying to wipe them clean, he recognized the repeated motion. It would happen sometimes when you just felt like your hands couldn’t get clean. It happened when you had a particularly bad reaction to a victim. I still feel the blood for days after. Can see it sometimes. You had told him once. So he did the only thing he could offer you at that moment. Azriel lightly took your hands in his, pulling them away from your pants. Placing feather light kisses to each joint in your finger, placing a handful of extras on the ring with a piece of his siphon embedded into it. He flipped your hand over and copied his trail of kisses. Followed onto your palm, up to your wrist. He didn’t let that hand drop as he turned his attention to your other hand. Trailing kisses all over until that was the only thing you could feel. Until the phantom blood would be replaced by the warmth of his lips.

He knew you were crying. But your hands were only slightly trembling now. When Azriel went to pull away, you clutched him so hard he thought it would bruise. Nails biting slightly into his skin. He didn’t flinch. Just let you guide him up and into your arms. Clinging to him like he was a life persevere and you were drowning. And you were. For the first time in days, he felt that door on the other side of the bond open and the wave of grief and sorrow that filled him only had him pulling you tighter against him.

“You didn’t know. Rhys didn’t know either, I’m assuming?” He felt your head shake against his shoulder. No.

“You didn’t know.”

“That doesn’t make it okay. I should have been able to tell. The way he spoke… I just thought he was low born. He was one of the best assassins that Hewn city has seen in centuries and he couldn’t have been more than fifteen.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I buried them both. I couldn’t just leave them. I even tried to leave something for them, some identifier but… I can still see them when I close my eyes. He was so small…” Your voice broke on the word and you were pushing on his chest then, writhing to get out of his arms and so he released you. As much as he didn’t want to. He let you go and watched as you crumpled to the ground. Head in your hands and knees drawing close to your chest. He didn't touch you as he sank down to his knees in front of you. He just sat with you in your grief. He breathed louder than normal, a silent encouragement for you to breathe with him. Slowly, you did. your chest rising and falling slowed until they matched. You pulled your head up slowly. Eyes shiny and red.

“Can we go to bed?” your voice wasn’t louder than a whisper. He nodded, opening his arms in question. you nodded back and Azriel scooped you up in his arms, you buried your head into his chest, blocking out the rest of the world.

He delicately held you in his arms as he walked into the room, kicking the door shut behind him.“Do you want to bathe first?” You nodded, not raising your head from where it rested.

So he walked into the bathroom and shifted you onto the counter, keeping a hand on your knee as he started to draw the bath. He walked back over to you and stood between your legs, wrapping his arms around your middle. “Can I take these off?” His fingers were lightly tracing the bottom of your shirt and you nodded. Ever so gently, he pulled the cotton over your head, placing a small kiss to the top of your nose when it was over your head. He popped you up long enough to get your pants down your legs. He was slightly disappointed with himself for still finding you so beautiful, even with the tear marks sticking to your face. You were the most gorgeous female he had ever laid eyes on and he let you know that. You blushed and pulled him down for a light kiss. It was just a quick peck. He went to turn off the water before it could spill over the edge of the tub. He picked you up again and slowly lowered you into the water. He turned away, giving you some privacy, but you only took his hand in your and stared up at him.

“Can you…get in?” The slight tremble in your voice had him nodding before you even finished. He didn’t care what words were about to come out of your mouth, he would do it. So he peeled himself out of his clothes and joined you in the hot water. Slightly too hot for his preference but just the way you liked it. He pulled you against his front and picked up the shampoo you used.

He cupped some water into his hands to wet your hair and worked the soap through. Fingers stretching at your scalp in the process, you leaned further back into him savoring the feeling of his hands in your hair. Once he was done, he washed the bubbles out with the cup by the edge of the tub. Covering your face lightly with his hand to avoid getting it into your eyes. He handed you the sponge and his body wash, the scent always soothed you when you were upset, giving you space to wash your own body. His hands did smooth the soap off your shoulder and back, but he knew what would happen to his own body if he dragged that sponge over your soft skin and this wasn’t about that. This was him taking care of his mate and nothing more. He took a deep breath to push those thoughts away from the front of his mind, a soft wave of nothing but pure adoration washed down the bond as he did so, fully banishing the thoughts from him. He stepped out of the bath first to grab the towel that was hanging on the edge of the door. He quickly dried himself off before he went to pick you up from the now lukewarm bath. He wrapped you up in the towel and carried you over to the bed. He placed you down in the middle and you sat watching him as he went over to the dresser to grab something for you to put on. You shook your head at him and pulled the covers over yourself.

So he joined you, shuffling you onto his chest. You both laid like this for a few minutes, lazily drawing shapes onto your back with his hands. This was just about needing to feel your mate close to you. A need to feel something. A content sigh left you as you nuzzled into his chest, hand already going to circle around the patch of hair at the center. His own hands were brushing over your hair. Neither of you spoke, both content to lay in your own little bubble of quiet. He listened to your breathing slow slightly and knew you had drifted off to sleep. He couldn’t find it in himself to let his eyes close. He could only stare down at his amazing mate. His wife. His everything. The person who felt so deeply that she had made graves for the people she wasn’t supposed to care about. Who would have been content to drown in grief alone at the thought of what she had accidentally done. Your rule was simple, one that everyone else echoed, no children and no mothers. Despite all the things you had done for the Night Court, there were boundaries that even Rhys would never cross. He would have to tell Rhys what happened, encouraging his brother to let Azriel gather intel before sending in his mate to finish the job. But that could all wait until the morning. Tonight he would be with his mate, tonight he would do his best to take the weight of the world off your shoulders.

tagging the girlies: @daycourtofficial @sarawritestories @milswrites @prythianpages

#acotar #acosf #acomaf #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acowar #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel angst

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sweetbans29 · 1 day

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Teach Me: The Art of Practice (iv) - PB

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Previous Part

Summary: You and Paige have been best friends for the last 6 years. You trust her completely. And it is because of that trust that you ask her a rather forward question. AKA - You ask Paige to teach you.

Warnings: mature, angsty

Word Count: 2.9k

Sweetbans Masterlist & Teach Me Masterlist

AN: A little filler - more lessons to come soon.

Paige was all you could think about. And if you were to ask her, you were all Paige could think about. Yet neither of you said a single word about it.

After your last lesson, Paige had to excuse herself before continuing on with life.

"Alright ma, imma need you to stop right there before I do something you aren't ready for," Paige says as she pulls you up towards her. Your face now hovering over hers. Given your current state and hearing Paige moan your name - you weren't ready to end.

You just stare down at Paige. Before you know it, you are leaning in and connecting your lips with hers.

She is shocked at first, but seeing as to how turned on she is, kisses you back and immediately establishes dominance.

You moan into her mouth and she moves your legs to straddle her. She slowly sits up, not breaking the kiss. Your hands make their way to tug on Paige's hair causing her to struggle to maintain dominance. Using the opportunity, you begin to fight for dominance as you ever so slightly begin to grind down on the girl's hips.

Paige is fed up with how good you are at turning her on and decides to really take manners into her own hands. She removes her lips from yours and begins to work them down your neck, spending extra time on the spot she found right under your ear.

"Paige," you breathe out, now grinding harder on her trying to relieve any of the building pressure in your core. "Babe, don't stop."

Paige's senses are overloaded with you - removing any and all sense she has remaining. She takes one of her hands and lowers your bra straps, kissing down your shoulder and to your chest.

It is on the next throaty groan that reminds her this is all for a lesson and you aren't hers for the taking. Not yet at least.

Paige begins to slow down with the kisses and leans her head on your shoulder - steadying her breathing.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask before you are able to stop yourself. You feel her chuckle underneath you.

"Such a good student, babe but can't overwhelm you or you'll forget everything," Paige says, knowing full-well it is complete BS.

You don't push it and nod. The two of you stay in the same position for a minute. Paige then puts her hands on your hips, giving them a little squeeze before plopping you on the bed beside her.

She gets up and starts to make her way from your room.

"Where are you going B?" You ask and Paige's mind makes a connection.

She realizes that you only use her first name (which you would never do since coining the nickname 'B') when she had you really riled up. You would say her name and that became thrilling to her. She would try and elicit it every chance she gets moving forward.

"I need to go take care of myself babe," she says giving you a smirk. "You did such a great job turning me on that now I have to go finish it."

You blush immediately and watch the girl walk out of your room.

Now the two of you are sitting on the couch of your apartment with half of the team. They invited themselves over and decided that a movie night was in order. They had no knowledge of the compromising position Paige had you in nearly an hour before their arrival.

The girls decided on the fast and furious movies, which always meant you were watching at least two of them. Nika put on the 4th one which no one complained about and now you are all sprawled out in your living room snacking and watching.

You are posted up between Azzi and Nika - leaning on Azzi's shoulder. You made sure to not sit right next to Paige, not trusting yourself.

Paige on the other hand was in one of the recliners. Every minute or so, she found herself glancing over at you. Not that you noticed, but Azzi did.

Paige's eyes would shift to you and then she would adjust in the recliner. Azzi got sick of it and tried to pull Paige's gaze to her. When she finally makes eye contact with Azzi, Azzi gives P the 'stop staring' eyes. Paige just shrugs and crosses her arms. She wants you in the recliner with her.

The first movie wraps up and you can feel yourself getting sleepy. Everyone gets up to grab more snacks and use the restroom. You go and grab a sweatshirt - finding the closest one to you in your room which just so happened to be Paige's. You throw it over your head and let it swallow you up.

When you make your way back, you see Nika has shifted over to where you were sitting and Evina took Nika's spot. You stand for a second before looking over at Paige in the recliner with both arms open, inviting you into her. You inhale and make your way over to your best friend.

You crawl on top of her and curl up with your head on her chest. Paige's arms wrap around you and you make some final adjustments to get comfortable. None of this phasing the girls on the couch one bit.

It is halfway through the movie and you feel yourself nodding off. Paige can tell you are fighting sleep and kisses the top of your head.

"Go to sleep love, it's okay." She says in your ear as she rubs your back. You stop fighting it and allow the much-needed sleep come over you.

The movie finishes and the girls begin cleaning up. Paige never minded hosting knowing all the girls always clean up after themselves. When Paige didn't make a move to help - it caught everyone's eye.

"Bro, you are whipped," Evina says looking down at Paige rubbing your sleeping back.

"I am not - she's my best friend," Paige says making sure she is not talking too loud. She doesn't want to wake you.

"You are wrapped around her finger, there is no trying to hide it," Azzi says with a smile, knowing the full extent of Paige's love for you.

Paige knows she could fight this but also knows that they are right, right as she is about to respond, you begin to stir.

Paige continues to rub circles on your back as your eyes flutter open.

"Is the movie over?" You ask, voice groggy and eyes half closed.

"It is," Paige says in the softest voice. "The girls are about to head out, do you want to say bye?" She says looking up.

You look and see all the girls looking at you in Paige's arms. You can't help but blush and hide your face in Paige's chest causing all the girls to let out 'awws' and coos. You put your hand up and wave at them as they say their goodbyes.

Once they all leave, you prop yourself up on Paige. One hand on the recliner, the other on her stomach to stabilize yourself. You yawn and fall right back into your best friend's arms. Paige lets out a breathy laugh.

"You gonna move so we can go to bed?" She says expecting you to get up and not go right back to where you were.

"Too comfy," you say and nuzzle your face into her with a hum.

Paige can't help but fall more in love with you in these moments.

Her hand comes up to brush some of the hair out of your face and you look up and let out a content sigh.

You hadn't told Paige yet but you ended up not going on the second date with the girl from your class. She was nice but you learned she wasn't what you wanted. You couldn't have what you wanted. And you didn't want the lessons to stop so you opted to keep quiet. Something was better than nothing right?

You are looking into Paige's eyes and can't help but think what this would be like if you admitted your feelings to the girl. Would she reciprocate them? Would she tell you she has loved you as long as you loved her? Or would she run? Say you are nothing but a friend and cause the biggest heartbreak of your life?

Paige is looking down at you, hand still playing with your hair. She could get used to this. Up to this point, she has never wanted to be in a relationship with anyone. She was completely content hooking up with girls when she needed a fix and then coming back to your friendship. But the more she thought about it and the closer she got to you - it had her questioning settling down and making you hers.

Her thumb comes up to rub your cheek and your heartbeat picks up.

Your mind begins to stir.

Your hand comes up to grasp hers, removing it from your face. As you do so you adjust yourself, no longer curling up on her but laying with your stomach on hers. You place the hand that you were holding on your waist, bringing yours back up to cup her neck moving it enough to allow the access you want.

Your lips meet her neck in a gentle kiss, instantly having her craving more. You kiss up her neck to the base of her earlobe, kissing it before bringing it between your lips giving it a little suck.

Paige lets out the most beautiful moan as you feel her fingers tighten their grip around your waist.

"What...what are you doing ma?" She asks, barely able to get the words out before another moan escapes her mouth as you continue to work on her neck.

"You know," you say in between kisses. Hand coming down to the hem of her shirt lifting it just enough to run your fingertips over her torso. "Your moans are like music to my ears."

You begin to kiss your way up to her lips. Right before you reach her lips you pause. Not looking in her eyes, only at her lips.

"How am I doing, 'ma'?" You ask in a borderline teasing tone and use the pet name that would fall from her lips.

It was her turn to bite her lip. You shake your head no.

"If I can't do it, neither can you." You say bringing her lip out from her bite. "And for the record, I just wanted to practice."

You sit up and make your way out of the chair and towards your room.

"You coming to bed, B?" You say innocently like you just didn't turn her on faster than any other girl she has been with.

Paige gets up without a word and follows you into your bedroom.

In the next few days, you and Paige are back to normal. Hanging out with the team, practicing, bugging one another. It was nice. It was normal.

It is game day and the team is in the gym getting ready. You are at your desk reviewing some last-minute plays when Geno comes in and tells you to get out there with the team.

You head to the floor and watch the girls warm up. The game begins and the team is playing extremely well. They are up in the 4th when Paige is hit in the face by a girl from the other team. She falls to the ground holding her face.

You freeze - panic setting in. She stands up and slowly makes her way to the bench, knowing they won't let her play with blood on her face.

Geno is arguing with the ref as you do the same. You hear your name called but ignore it until Azzi comes up and grabs your arm.

"Paige keeps pushing the medic away - will you?" Azzi says as her head nods in the direction of Paige swatting the medic's hand away from her face. You roll your eyes and make your way over.

"B, get your ass over here." You say as you dawn a glove and grab a tissue.

"She flat out hit me in the face and they are calling it a common foul! That is absolute trash!" She says but still makes her way to you.

You put the tissue on her nose and she hits your hand away.

You give her a look, knowing the look will do more than any words could. She stops moving and stands there. You put the tissue up to her nose and hold it there, looking past her at Geno and the refs. When you turn your attention back to the girl in front of you, you see her eyes are closed. She looks peaceful at this moment like she isn't in the middle of a game and didn't just get hit in the face.

Your hand removes the tissue from her nose and you grab her chin, examining her face. Her eyes remain closed only opening when you reach around and tap her ass.

"You're good to go B," you say sending her on her way, only she doesn't move.

"B, go," you say and gesture towards the court.

Paige hesitates before doing her little jump and steps toward the court but not before her hand finds your waist, giving it the all-too-familiar squeeze. Your breath hitches and you shoot her a look.

The team goes on to win the game. Everyone is super excited and decides to go out to a bar to celebrate. You only go because the team insists and you can't say no to the girls.

While the team is out, you decide to have a dry night. The last thing you want is to be trying to corral a group of tipsy girls.

You are sipping a sprite when you hear loud giggling come from your right.

Paige is whispering in a girl's ear causing her to giggle. You try not to pay it any attention but you see the girl's hand come up to Paige's chest and play with her hair.

It makes you sick. Yet, you can't take your eyes off of them. You take another sip of your drink as you watch Paige's hands come up to the girl's waist - a feeling you have grown to crave.

Paige says something in the girl's ear that causes her to nod rapidly and allow Paige to take her hand, leading her away from the bar.

Your stomach drops and you feel your eyes become wet.

'This is so stupid' you think to yourself as you watch them go towards the bathrooms.

You drop some money at the bar, grab your jacket - not wanting to be anywhere near this place, and let one of the girls know you are heading home. Before you reach the door, you feel the first tear fall. Your hand comes up to wipe it away before anyone can see and you make your way home.

To your lack of knowledge, your tears didn't go unseen. Azzi was watching you the whole time Paige was talking to the girl at the bar. Azzi knew the second you heard the giggle that Paige drew from the girl, it would hit your ears. Azzi saw how your demeanor changed when you saw Paige and how you left just as they were heading to the bathroom. Azzi was the only person to see your tears fall as you walked out. She is also the only person in the world who knows that Paige is completely and utterly in love with you.

Paige eventually emerges and finds Azzi. The first thing she does is ask where you are.

"She left..." Azzi says.

"Why? Where did she go?" Paige asks.

Azzi gives Paige a look and Paige knows that you saw her take a girl back. Paige puts the water in her hand and begins to make her way out of the bar.

"Paige!" Azzi yells and catches up to her.

"Let me go, I am going home," Paige says wanting to find you.

Azzi lets out a sigh, not sure what Paige is going to do.

"Maybe you should just give her some space," Azzi says, not wanting to completely out the state that you left in.

"Space?" Paige laughs. "You know better than anyone that I don't want space, especially when it comes to her."

Azzi loves Paige but also knows how big of an idiot Paige can be.

"I am going home and I am spending the rest of the night with my girl," Paige says, completely forgetting she just had her tongue and hands on someone who was most definitely not you.

Just as Paige is about to walk out, Azzi puts her hand up to stop Paige. Right as Paige is about to protest and give some sort of speech she is confused when she sees Azzi's hand come to her shirt.

Paige stands there, as Azzi fixes the mismatched buttons on Paige's shirt then lets the girl go.

Azzi watches her friend go. She sighs and takes a long sip of her drink. She didn't fix the shirt for Paige. She fixed it for you, she couldn't bear the thought of more tears falling over some dumb decision by Paige.

AN: The plot thickens...are you hooked yet? Let me know what you think. And as always, thank you for your love and support 💙

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers masterlist #paige bueckers fic #teach me series

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sunkissed-zegras · 2 days

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so happy for you and 2.5k like you’re seriously amazing!!

the cele idea: 🍀 with the prompt, "is that my hoodie?" / "no, this is our hoodie!" for emily engstler <3

love you sossoossosoo much!

evangeline's 2.5k celebration !! [open!]

love you so much more nonnie, thank u!!!!!!!!

─ warnings | nothing but sweet, sweet domestic fluff!

you were laying on the couch, scrolling on tiktok waiting for your girlfriend, emily to come home from practice. you were cozy ─ blanket was sprawled out on your lap, the soft glow of the screen illuminating your face in the dimly lit living room. the gentle hum of the air conditioner was the only sound besides the occasional laugh escaping your lips at the funny videos.

suddenly, you heard the front door creak open. emily's familiar footsteps echoed through the hallway. you put your phone down, a smile spreading across your face as you eagerly anticipated her arrival. the soft thud of her gym bag hitting the floor was followed by the rustling of keys being placed on the side table.

"hey, baby," she called out, her voice a mix of exhaustion and excitement. she hadn't been able to spend you all week, she had early morning practices and then she'd come home when you were asleep.

"hey, em," you replied, sitting up a little straighter. "how was practice?"

emily walked into the living room, her cheeks flushed from exertion, hair slightly damp from sweat. she looked at you with a tired but content smile. "it was tough, but good. you know, the usual."

she plopped down next to you on the couch, immediately snuggling into your side. you draped the blanket over her, wrapping your arm around her shoulders. she sighed, the tension in her body melting away as she relaxed against you.

"missed you," she murmured, closing her eyes for a moment.

"missed you too," you replied, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. "wanna watch something? or just relax for a bit?"

"let's just relax," she said, nuzzling closer. "too tired to think right now."

you smiled, stroking her hair gently. the two of you sat in comfortable silence, the bond between you strengthening with each passing moment. the stress of the day faded away as you held each other, content in the warmth and comfort of being together.

"hey," she yawned as she sat up, taking in your appearance. "is that my hoodie?"

she couldn't hide the grin on her face as she saw your initial shocked reaction, until your owns lips curved into a smirk. "no, this our hoodie."

"ooh, right," emily smiled as she playfully tugged at the sleeve. "our hoodie. i guess that makes sense."

emily stretched her arms and settled back into the couch, resting her head on your shoulder. you could feel her warmth seep into you, a comforting presence that made the world feel just right.

"you know," she said after a moment, her voice soft and thoughtful, "i think this hoodie looks better on you anyway."

"well, it's definitely cozier when we share it," you replied, wrapping the blanket tighter around both of you.

emily chuckled, her breath tickling your neck. "agreed. plus, it's like carrying a piece of you with me. makes me feel close to you even when we're apart."

you squeezed her gently, touched by her words. "i feel the same way, Em."

the two of you drifted into a peaceful silence again, the rhythmic rise and fall of her breathing lulling you into a serene state. the outside world faded away, leaving only the warmth of her presence and the gentle hum of your shared heartbeat.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

#emily engstler #emily engstler x reader #emily engstler smut #emily engstler x y/n #emily engstler imagine #emily engstler fluff #washington mystics #wnba draft #wnba basketball #wbb #wbb x reader #wbb smut #wnba x reader #wnba players #womens basketball

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sunflower-lilac42 · 2 days

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𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗻𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗲𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀 | 𝘫𝘩86 ♔

➪ summary: jack's date night plans with his girl get changed when he finds out she hasn't been feeling like herself lately

➪ warnings: insecurities, body talk, being compared

➪ word count: 2.4k

➪ file type: fic

➪ sunny's notes: ahhh another favorite of mine, i legit had so much fun reading this. this was from my previous amazing beautiful teddy bear anon whom i miss very much i hope you guys enjoy this one once again! :)

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

Now it wasn��t all the time that Jack got to have a night off in the middle of the season, so date nights out in New Jersey were a rare thing to come back for him and his girlfriend. In actuality, date nights like tonight were a rare occasion for the couple. Y/n wasn’t a fan of going out in public, and not in the sense that she didn’t want to be seen with Jack, because of course, she did. It is more in the sense that she didn’t want to be seen by the paparazzi, especially when she was caught off guard and didn’t have time to think about how she looked.

It wasn’t often that she was insecure, at least this much. There were some days where it would start bad and progressively get worse throughout the day, some days where it was just bad, and other days where it was the furthest thing in her mind what she looked like (the days where she would be eating pizza with no work to do and watching Jack’s game from the comfort of her living room).

Today had been one of the days where it got progressively worse throughout the day, which made sense because of the growing anxiety every time she looked at the time and it would be closer to when she had to start getting ready. It’s not that she wasn’t excited for date night, because she was, she was over the moon that she got to spend the night with Jack, but she just didn’t understand why they had to go out to do it.

She sat in their shared closet when she got home from work, trying to figure out what she wanted to wear. She had been through at least five different outfits, all of them now surrounding her on the ground. She finally settled on a black dress, one that she had worn plenty of times, and liked the way she looked in it every time she did. She started to pull it up and groaned when she realized she had to zip it up, not having the energy to do it at the moment. So she settled on doing the only thing she knew to do, “Jack!”

Jack came rushing into the bedroom, running down the hallway and catching himself on the door frame so he wouldn’t continue sliding, “What- what’s wrong?”

She turned around and giggled when she saw him. His shirt was unbuttoned and a little wrinkled on the inside edges, his hair a mess, and his tie the loosest it could be while still being tied, he looked like he just came from a college party.

She shook her head and walked over to him, running a hand through his hair and kissing his cheek, “Nothing, I just need your help zipping my dress up.”

It was only then that Jack looked at her up and down, grinning when he saw what she was wearing, “I love this dress on you.”

Her cheeks lightly turned pink at his statement, walking back to the mirror to fix the dress and how it lay on her. Jack grinned even more when he noticed the color of her cheeks, “Good to know I can still make you blush this much after a year.”

He walked over to her and placed his hands on her hips, leaning his head down so his chin was resting on her shoulder. He looked at her through the mirror, watching as she fixed her necklace and earrings, fiddled with her hair so it laid just how she wanted it to and straightened her dress, and tugged at the fabric against her stomach to stop it from clinging to her skin. He didn’t think much of it initially and just moved the hair away from the left side to the right and turned to kiss her lightly on the neck. The action caused her to shiver a little but ultimately left her with a smile.

Jack stood up and hit her butt, “Jack!” He ignored her and zipped up her dress. When he finished he went to hit her butt once more but furrowed his brows in confusion when he didn’t hear the usual scold that followed it.

He looked back up in the mirror to find her with a frown on her face and her hands fiddling with the edges of her dress. Wrapping his hands around her waist, he quietly asked, “What is it?”

She shook her head, not wanting to draw attention to it that much, “Nothing Jacky, I think I’m just gonna put on some tights underneath it and maybe some shorts.”

Normally, he would’ve let this slide. It was the middle of January and it was cold out, he knew she would be cold the moment they stepped outside if she left her legs bare. But, with the look on her face now and the pile of clothes sitting in their closet that he noticed when he walked in, told him all the different. His grip tightened on her waist once he felt her trying to get out of it to head to do what she told him, “Stop.”

“Jacky, we’re gonna be late.”

“Don’t do this- don’t do this to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She shied away from the mirror, trying to at least turn around to face him instead of continuing to look at herself. He huffed at her words and tightened his hold once more, “C’mon, baby. Tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell, let's just go before they decide they don’t want to serve us.”

“We are not leaving this apartment, this room until you tell me what’s going on even though you know I know what you’re pretty little head is thinking about right now.”

She stopped fighting and looked down, causing Jack to spin her around and lift her chin so her eyes were looking directly into his, “Talk to me.”

“It’s just one of those days, I guess.”

He knew there was more, he always knew. Jack knew about how she didn’t like going out for date nights because she didn’t want to have any unexpected pictures taken of her, how she hated posting on Instagram because she’s always scared that the only comments she’ll get are one’s commenting about how ‘ugly’ she looked, that she hated summer because she could never wear what all the others girls were wearing and feel good about it, and that she hated going to his games wearing his jersey because girls always made comments about him never wanting to be with her. So yes, he knew she was lying when she said that.

“I know that’s not all that’s bothering you, sweetheart. And you know that too,”

He backed up to sit on the chest that was sitting in front of their bed. She knew and hated when he did that because the next thing he did was pat his left thigh so she would come and sit there. She hated that she knew that she would do it anyway because Jack would sit and pout if she didn’t. And most of all, she hated those puppy dog eyes of him.

This time, however, she was determined to stand her ground, “No. I’m putting tights and shorts on and then we’re leaving.”

Jack rolled his eyes but kept sitting. She stared at him and he had no problem with staring right back, one of their daily staring contests that happened. When Jack broke eye contact, she cheered a little before heading into the closet to do what she said she was going to. Rules were rules, when someone won the staring contest they won the argument, within reason of course.

He sat patiently on the trunk as he watched her close the door of the closet. He knew this was not only one of those days, but one of the worst days she had. He knocked on the door and halted her actions, “But your sweats on.”

“What?”

“I said put your sweats on, my hoodie, and get your pretty ass out to the living room in five minutes. Take your makeup off too and put your hair up.”

She was confused but ultimately was fine with his words. Wearing sweats definitely beats having to wear tights and shorts and a dress. And wearing his hoodie? That beat everything. Jack sat in the living room calling the restaurant to cancel the reservation, ordering her favorite food, and putting on her favorite movie.

She came out five minutes later and sat on the couch, crossing her legs. Jack wrapped one of his arms around her waist and pulled her into his side as close as he could without her being on top of him, not that he would have minded her there in the slightest, “Talk to me, please.”

His voice sounded like he was pleading, and he was. He wanted to make all of her insecurities go away, shower her with love, and make her feel loved. And if he accomplished that and was able to cuddle her, he would be more than okay to do this every day instead of going out.

She sighed and Jack gave her his hand so she could fiddle with her fingers, something she always did when she got anxious, “I wasn’t lying when I said it was one of those days.”

She took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s just- that dress was the dress I could always count on myself knowing I would look good in. I don’t usually have to think about it too hard, I could just put it on and go. When you zipped it up, I could tell it fit a little tighter than it usually did and it just felt…” She couldn’t exactly describe what she felt, how she felt. If you knew the feeling, you knew the feeling.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she gripped his hand tighter, “I just want to feel pretty Jack.”

That absolutely, utterly, broke, no shattered, his heart. He hated that his girl had to feel like this, hated that society had made it so not only her but every girl that didn’t look like the stereotypical one had to feel like they weren’t beautiful. At that moment, caring about whether or not she would think she was crushing him flew out of his mind and he pulled her into his lap. She didn’t even have the energy to protest and dug her head into his shoulder.

His own tears welled up in his eyes as he listened to her cry, it was one of his least favorite sounds in the whole world, maybe the worst sound he’s ever heard. He let her cry for a few minutes before pulling her head away and cupping her face with both of his hands. She sniffled, reaching her hand up to wipe her nose and Jack wiped the tears for her. She was glad that she had decided to take her makeup off after contemplating it for a few minutes.

“I want you to listen to me, y/n. And please, actually listen to me.”

She nodded, still trying to rid of the remnants of her crying off of her face, “You are beautiful, no matter who tells you differently. I will always think you’re beautiful. I know that self-love is the most important kind of love there is and it breaks my heart every time I see you look at yourself a little longer in the mirror in the mornings or when you pull at the fabric of your shirt while you’re working at the kitchen table. And I am more than willing to help you feel beautiful all day every day.

“I know that you’re not going to feel pretty all of the time, everyone has those days. Even me, pretty boy Hughes.”

His comment made her laugh a little and he smiled when he heard it, that was one of his favorite sounds in the world. He smiled a little more when he felt her hand run through his hair, “There’s my girl.”

This comment makes her blush instead and that causes him to smile even more, “And there is the blush that I still cannot believe I make you do. Somehow you just got ten times more gorgeous.”

Her cheeks reddened even more and he chuckled a little at it this time. He moved his hands from her head to her hips, his thumbs resting under his sweatshirt and rubbing soft circles into her skin, “There will always be someone to say something, trust me and I wish I could take it all away so it wouldn’t hurt you. But, I want you to know that I love you for you and I could never imagine myself loving anyone else.

“Anyone could have a model as their girlfriend or their wife, but only I can have you. And that’s what makes me love you, y/n. Not the way you look, though I adore how you look, but instead the way you smile when you see me every time, the way you always cuddle me after a rough game, the way you know when something is wrong, the way you treat everyone like they hung the stars, and the way you moan-”

“Jack!”

He laughed, throwing his head back in the process, his hands subtly tightening on her hips, “My point is, before you so rudely interrupted me listing the things I love about you.” She slapped his arm before smiling at him, “You don’t need to live up to anyone else’s expectations of beautiful when you think you are. As long as you think you’re beautiful that’s all that matters, as long as you do it for you and not for anyone else.”

Tears pricked at her eyes once more, this time out of love and happiness, “I love you so so much, Jacky.”

He kissed her cheek and then kissed her, making her jump in shock a little before melting into the kiss. His hands moved further up underneath her sweatshirt and he moved to kiss her neck, causing her to let out a soft moan when he hit her sensitive spot right on the dot. That made him grin as he pulled away. That was his favorite sound in the world.

⬂ 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗝𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗲𝘆 𝗗𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹𝘀 𝗧𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ⬂

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#sunny lune writes #nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jh86

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timewillpasssoon · 2 days

Text

NO ME QUEDA MÁS

pairing . Joost Klein x singer-gn! reader

content . you are addressed as 'reader', reader can be seen as male or female, mentions of unrequited love, jealousy, insecurities, suggestive mentions, making out, best friends to lovers, angst to fluff

summary . you find out that your crush of three years, Joost Klein, might have a girlfriend, you can't hold onto your feelings anymore.

word count . 2.7k words, 15,6k characters

author's note . i love Selena, i grew up with her music and this song is the bomb. i HAD to make a fic. wanted to make this pure angst but the angel on my shoulder said no. sorry for not uploading, gas leak in my house iususisjhs, also sorry to all the Jazlyns...

These past three years have been an agonizing struggle, concealing your true feelings in the depths of your heart. Having to pretend that you don't see him in a romantic light. During meet-ups with the friend group, you have act as if his light touches don't affect you, that they don't make you think of unspoken actions.

Despite knowing Joost for a decade, it's only recently, three years ago, that you've confronted your true feelings. The realization that your heart yearns for more than just a friendship with him shattered your view of Joost. You recalled of all the time where you dreamt of him. The way he loved you in those dreams made you squeal with excitement, though, you always remind yourself that those are just silly dreams. The weight of this secret is unbearable. No one can know of this, especially Joost.

A year ago, a new addition was made upon the friend circle you are apart of. Appie introduced her into the group, Jazlyn. She quickly found her place among the group, being welcomed with open arms by everyone, which included you. With each gathering from then on, the dynamic shifted, letting her in on the activities the group does. As precious time went by, everyone could see the slight bond between Jazlyn and Joost.

You got word that the two were hanging out privately within nine months of knowing her. There was an unwelcomed feeling in you, jealousy, which was brewing up inside you. The horrid feeling took root within your heart. The thought of Joost being with some else haunted you. When they were seen to have a moment together, shadows filled with doubt and insecurity casted over you.

They were seen as a cute match, flaunted as a picture perfect match. That ignited a volcano of emotion within you, a blend of rage and sorrow. You longed to be the one by his side, to be his perfect match. Yet the shards of your broken heart prevented you from vocalizing your feelings. Your silence was too haunting that Joost couldn't help but notice. He was accustomed to your endless support and enthusiasm, so when you kept to yourself for a few months, he sensed the complete switch.

The announcement of Joost's acceptance into Eurovision was exciting- thrilling. You were overjoyed with happiness, your heart filled with support. You were planning on congratulating him with a typical hug with words of support and love. But before you were able to, Jazlyn took the chance to lunged at him like a leech. She showered him with affection.

She held him in her grasp, not letting Joost go for what felt like two whole minutes, he didn't let go. You hoped he did, but he embraced her as well, pulling his right hand over her. Looking at everyone, then to you. Full eye contacted was made, Joost really could sense something was wrong.

That night, you made a conscious choice to retreat into silence, to shield your heart, sacrificing the warmth of his presence to protect yourself from further pain and heartbreak.

Your interactions with Joost reduced to mere small talk. Despite his much persistent attempts to figure out why you have been so detached, you would dismiss his worries by say, "I'm fine." Yet Joost remained suspicious, you're 'reassurance' was not much help.

You didn't have much courage to confess your feelings knowing something might be happening between Jazlyn and Joost.

You had nothing left other than to just cheer for the two.

All you can do is relegate yourself in the shadows, concealing the overbearing thoughts of Joost. Over the span of two lonely months, you had hope, deep in your soul, that one day he'll return to you- to stay with you. That hope slowly faded, the past two months passed breezily and there was still no confidence in you to speak your mind. Your heart having to play as if you only see him as a friend.

Within the complex code of your feelings, the realization settles in. That you played yourself a fool. You thought the love you had for Joost was to be reciprocated, but amongst more thoughts to yourself, it was truly just banter for Joost. All the jokes about being each others future every things were empty, sweet, nothings.

. year twenty thirteen

"What if I never find a boyfriend?" You say, chewing apart the gummy bear in your mouth into shreds. The scenery ahead of you two was quite beautiful. Joost and you were having a picnic in a near by park. He smiled, his eyes illuminated by the soft hues of the late afternoon. He was on your left, a light chuckles left his lips. "I'm sure you'll find someone charming and handsome, reader!"

"Someone like you?"

you joked, but now that you think back, it wasn't a joke.

He laugh at your quote-on-quote joke, his hands grabbing a gummy bear. "let's make a promise," He shifted to his right so he can fully face you, "If were are still single by the age of... thirty, we'll marry each other!" Your eyes widened, you heart beating a little more faster for some reason. Your hands shaking just a tiny bit.

"How did you come up with his promise?" You tilt your head to the right, your eyes locked with his. "I just want an excuse to be able to marry you." he pauses for your response, but your not quite sure if he's joking or not. He quickly laughed at his own joke so you can tell he wasn't serious.

Something in you wanted him to be serious.

"So?" Joost says, waiting for an answer. "Don't you think thirty is a bit young?" Joost nodded, his right hand placed on your left shoulder just now. "Fine~"

"If we are still single at thirty-five, we will marry each together!" He stuck his hand out, all his fingers down except for his pinky.

You reach for his pinky, interlocking yours with his.

"Alright!! Deal."

. year twenty twenty-four

Eurovision ended, it was an crazy event that was not at all fair. the whole time when Joost was in Sweden, he tried to text you everyday, yet you wouldn't respond. when you do reply, it would be excuses on why you haven't responded. saying that you're busy with producing your latest song, that you are at an event and so on.

Upon Joost's return to the Netherlands a week post-Eurovision, Appie and Stunje orchestrated a small gathering for everyone in the friend group to relax and celebrate the amazing achievement the three men achieved, despite the horrible treatment they got they stood tall. Reminding each other that making it to Eurovision was still a life long goal they had.

As you entered the restaurant selected by Appie and Stunje, the smell of delectable cuisines floated around the establishment lure your senses from the moment you stepped in. Approaching the hostess, you asked if there wads a reservation under the name of Joost. With a gracious smile, she directed your eyes to the spacious booth in the left side of you. You thanked her and walked to the circle booth. In the middle of the circle booth was Joost and Jazlyn, him being on Jazlyn's left side.

As you drew in a breath, a smile graced your lips. Sending a wave to your friends, commencing a exhale with a hint of nervousness. "Hey guys, sorry for being late!" You spoke up so they can hear you through out the other building's noises. Appie's grin enlarged upon your arrival. "No need for apologies, you're five minutes late tops!" He said cheerfully, as the others echoed their reassurances, Appie casually passed you a menu. "Order what you want." He encouraged you to get whatever delight you desired.

The gathering that was ensuing was a nice, relax one. Where everyone was sharing experiences and exchanges. Stunje, Appie, and Joost telling the group about the adventures they had in Sweden, beyond Eurovision. After that you eagerly said details about the latest and upcoming album in the making. The remaining in the group also recounted their own memorable adventures and enjoyed time from the preceding two months.

"To Joost!" exclaimed a friend, lifting their glass of liquor in a toast, prompting others to follow them. In unison, everyone raised their glasses, their voices saying, "To Joost!" With that announcement, they all partook in a sip, sealing the sentiment of celebration.

Some time has now past from the first shot of liquor, what seemed to be around an hour and a half of more and more talking and drinks. Throughout the event, you could feel a pair of eyes on your body. You looked at Joost a couple of times, often catching him staring at you, sometimes he wouldn't look away when you caught him. You often had to be the one looking away.

What was up with him? You think in your mind, the weight of his staring making you start to slouch in your seat. You weren't uncomfortable, you were more curious of why he would staring at you and not Jazlyn.

As the alcohol began to take its effect, the atmosphere grew increasingly relaxed, ushering in a wave of lighthearted banter.

Amidst the hangout, one friend, ventured into more intimate territory. "So, spill, Joost and Jazlyn," they teased, their curiosity peaking. "What really goes down when you guys are alone?"

When the question popped, Joost shifted in his seat, his eyes hovering over you and the friend. Jazlyn seemed to love the question, clearly into him as well. "That's a secret between us!" She exclaimed, hinting to something suggestive. Joost shook his head in defense at her as some quietly yelped an 'oooh'. "Nothing really happened, we accidentally stumbled on each other at a cafe." His defense silenced the people at the table, he soon turned his gaze at you.

An individual detected the palpable tension polluting the atmosphere and drifted the conversation towards more joyful topics. As the subject shifted, so did the collective mood, transitioning into a brighter one. However, despite the huge effort to uplift everyone, your countenance remained stone cold, a hint of heartbreak brewing beneath the surface. Despite your façade of a fake light smile, the searing ache of what really could've between them gnawed at your soul.

You found yourself stuck in your head and loathing- yearning for him still. The desire for his touch in places deemed inappropriate stirred in your head. You wanted him all over you, and you hated yourself for it. Similar thoughts were in Joost's mind, craving to feel your hands upon his body. He wished you were the one clinging on to him, not Jazlyn.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled in your eyes until the ringtone of your phone jolted you back to the present moment. Hastily, you lowered your head to covert your face, also stealing a glance at who was calling, which was Bambie. With a shaky voice, you excused yourself from the table, "I need to take this…" The sadness in your voice betraying you. As you raised your head slightly, Joost's view revealed the glisten of tears in your eyes and the wetness of your left cheek. Rising from your chair, you swiftly answered the call and hurried out of the restaurant.

Your voice quivered slightly as you responded to the call, "Hello?" Stepping outside the establishment, you were met with Bambie's eager greeting, "Hey reader-!!!" However, their sentence trailed off as concern laced their voice. "What happened?" Bambie's voice dripped with worry, ears catching the shiver in your voice that hinted at tears.

"Nothing happened-"

"Do not say that! Tell me the truth."

You let out a resigned sigh, knowing that not answering Bambie's questions would be futile.

"It's just Joost. I need to get over him. Jazlyn is clearly into him, and he's probably reciprocates those feelings," The weight of unspoken emotions bearing down on you. Finding solace on a nearby bench along a secluded pathway, you continued,

"I've held these feelings for what feels like a lifetime, yet I've never found the courage to confess. Maybe if I had spoken up years ago… maybe then, I would have stood a chance."

The discourse extended for an additional eight minutes, during which Bambie provided comfort and support. Throughout, a mutual exchange of humor ignited shared laughter. As the conversation drew to a conclusion, Bambie's attention was diverted by another incoming call, ending the conversation with you short.

Once you ended the call, you sat by yourself. The scenery before you was beautiful. Despite the unwavering support offered by Bambie, your heart remained steadfast in its love for Joost.

The thoughts in your head circled back. there was still tears in your eyes. You sighed at looked at your lap, not noticing the person walking up to you.

"You okay?"

You looked up to see who was there.

Joost.

With a swift gesture, you brushed away the traces of your tears, composing yourself and assuming an upright posture. "Yeah, I'm fine," you uttered, averting your gaze from his eyes. In response, he emitted a soft sigh, removing his jacket as he sat next to you. Draping it around your shoulders, "What's really going on?" he persisted, his tone had a twinged with concern, prompting a deeper exploration of your underlying emotions.

"You've been weird since Jazlyn was invited in the friend group."

You rolled your eyes at his try to get you out of your shell. You didn't respond to him, "C'mon reader! Please, tell me..." Joost's voice was very whiny, that made you bite your lip. "Why do you want to know? Go back inside, it's your party after all... you should be there."

"It's not fun without you. I miss you." You look at his eyes, around three inches apart from each others lips.

"I just been busy. It's taken effect on me." You weren't really lying, you have been busy with your new album. Although, that's not the real reason why you were crying today.

"Be honest with me!" He begged you with deep whininess in his voice. "Please."

As you remained motionless, a palpable tension hung in the air, from the intensity of his gaze. His piercing blue eyes wants to see every contour of your body, as if seeking to unravel the deepest secrets of you, imbuing the moment with an undeniable sense of desire.

"We should go back inside." Your asserted dominate. Your stern voice made him widen his eyes for a bit, catching him off guard, before going back to his begging eyes. His fingers lingered to yours momentarily, it was his silent plea of more connection to one another. "I'm begging you reader," He stopped to catch his breath.

"Please, please, please. I won't judge you."

You still didn't have the confidence to confess, yet you were prepared to get rejected. "Joost, I have to confess something."

You breathe in and exhale lightly. "I like you- a lot. I liked you since the day I met you."

His demeanor softened perceptibly, a subtle shift that suggested a newfound sense of ease. "If you don't like me back, I understand-." He stopped you by grabbing your hand. "Can I kiss you?"

"h-huh?"

You stared at him like he was crazy, yet he was still waiting for an answer. "I like you too reader. Since the day we had that picnic... it felt like you've casted a spell on me."

"You remember the promise?" Your heart swelling from his confession. You intertwined your fingers with his, placing both of your guy's hands on your lap.

"Yeah. I was afraid you forgot about." You laugh at that joke. You? Forget that precious moment?

Never.

"Kiss me." You whispered, not having much confidence behind those two words. He smiled, pride and love in his face. In the hushed intimacy of the moment, you and Joost's eyes locked in a silent exchange of longing and anticipation.

He inched his face closer to yours, his free hand was placed on your chin. You couldn't wait any longer, not even a second more. You filled the gap between you, lunging your lips onto his. Your free hand on the back of his head.

Your two's lips met in a tender collision, a symphony of sensation that sent shivers down each person's spine. Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the gentle exploration of each other's warmth.

Joost pulled away before coming back for seconds. The small kisses grew more urgent, more steamy. The two lost themselves in the passionate, heated make out session. Them wanting more, to take off the cloth that's covering the parts they want to see.

As they broke off the kiss, their chests rose and fell between seconds. They stared at each other, lust in there eyes, yet loved was the more massive feelings as of right now.

HAD TO CUT IT SHORT OF I WANTED TO FINISH IT. lowkey would've wrote 1k more if i didn't have a deadline for myself. take care guys

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #joost klein fluff #joost klein x you #joost klein x fem reader #joost klein x male reader #joost klein x gn reader

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