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kabr0ztrousers · 4 months ago

Note

Naive curvy fem reader who recently gave birth but her man left her to fend for herself. Mother in-law + father in-law (who are both vampires) disown their son and allow the reader and their grandchild to stay at their estate. They convinced her they will help relieve any tension. Like massaging her sore breasts, suckling or squeezing any excess milk, and licking and rubbing her pussy. Starts off as dubious consent but transitions to full consent when they tell her that she's more than a daughter in-law to them.

Kabr0z Episode 54: The In-Laws

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: blood; vampires; incest (no blood relation); age gap; power imbalance; dubcon to enthusiastic consent; receiving cunnilingus; giving cunnilingus and fellatio; very mild foot mention; technically intox; ghoulification;

A/N: Nobody's claimed the prize from my previous competition regarding vampires, but I had fun posing the question, so if you can give the clan the in-laws belong to with your request, you get to skip the queue! Two prizes up for grabs as the clan changed its name with Vampire V5 😁

Again, here's the daily reminder that I won't know what you want if you don't request it, so by all means request! My DMs and asks are open for a reason!

#######################################

You pulled up outside the wrought iron gates. You knew Nick grew up with money but this is old-school aristocrat level, a real Great Gatsby mansion. You reached out of your window to hit the buzzer

"Name?" A bored voice called over the intercom.

You told them who you were, you were getting to why you were there when the gate swung silently open. You drove on, gate swinging shut behind you. You didn't see the men with automatic rifles from the road, but you bet they saw you. Sophie fussed in the baby seat. You stopped to shush her back to sleep, the last thing you wanted was to make a poor first impression.

Too late. A pair of figures stood in the doorway to the house. The lights flattered them in the late evening, artfully curated shadows highlighting the razor-sharp creases of his suit, the elegant drape of her long red dress. They were looking at you.

Here was as good a place to leave the car as any, you supposed, and got out. Cradling your baby you approached the figures in the doorway. They smiled at you, the light making them look washed out and pale.

"So, we finally meet! So sorry we couldn't make the wedding" The woman spoke first "I am Lucrezia, this is Alfonso" the man bowed neatly at the waist, allowing his wife to continue "When we caught wind of what our dog of a son did! We're both so very glad you came to us"

You smiled, it's not like you had much of a choice. Both of your parents had passed while you were expecting Sophie, and you didn't really have any other family. "Thanks for having us, we'll try not to be a burden"

Alfonso laughed "It's not a burden at all! It will be so good to have a child about the house again, it gets awfully quiet with just me, your mother, the security, the cleaners, and the servants"

That sounded positively bustling to you, but their perspectives were probably different you guessed, a house like this needs upkeep

A man cleared his throat behind you "Your keys, ma'am?"

You turned, he was wearing a flak vest and an earpiece, his rifle secured to him with a strap "so we can park your car and unpack you"

The woman waved him away "There's time for that later, Giacomo. Now, let's get out of the cold"

It was a warm night. You followed the pair inside. They looked exactly like the old paintings on the walls of the house, though the varnish had darkened with age. Some of them looked to contain a young Peter too... Maybe these were of Alfonso's side of the family? There was quite a strong family resemblance with the boy, but then how was Lucrezia there?

They led you to a lounge, where they took seats on either end of a long sofa. You sat in an armchair, sinking into the plush velvet. "So," Lucrezia began "We'll hear no more of this not wanting to intrude business. You're family, and family takes care of family. Besides, it's not like we're hurting for bedrooms" They both laughed. You felt like a deer in headlamps. A rabbit cornered by circling wolves. The light in here was warmer than outside, but it didn't diminish the corpselike pallor on their faces, bluish lips on pale faces, dry eyes that didn't catch the light, and aside from when they spoke... No, that's silly.

Obviously they must breathe, right?

Sophie was picking up on something, too. She hadn't stopped fussing since you came in. Lucrezia stepped over to you, or at least you assumed she did, you looked up and she was simply there, dark eyes staring into yours

"There, there, the little one is tired! Come to Nana, little one"

You let her take the restless baby from your arms, playing with her with a fingertip. Sophie calmed at once, gurgling happily before settling into a deep sleep. Lucrezia gave her back to you. Was that... Blood on her mouth?

You blinked, it was gone. Probably just your overactive imagination. Driving for four hours after packing up your entire life would do that.

You looked at Lucrezia again, into those deep black eyes, dark in a sea of white "Let's get my granddaughter to bed, then we can talk about your future here"

You nodded. It's the best thing for it. She led you upstairs, to a nursery with a beautiful cot, pulling a tablet computer off the wall and handing it to you "Only the best for you, 4k camera and the best audio money can buy. If she so much as peeps, you'll hear"

You put Sophie down in the cot. Finally the two of you were safe again. "Can I have a bed in here with her?"

Lucrezia smiled at you, those eyes meeting yours again "Of course, I'll have the staff bring one in. She stepped out of the door, clapped her hands twice and shouted in the fastest Italian you'd ever heard someone speak before coming back "The bed will be brought in soon, now let's go back downstairs"

You followed her again. Alphonso looked up from a book when you entered, before getting up and ushering you down to the sofa between them.

Lucrezia's hands were on your shoulders, thumbs digging into the muscles of your back "You're so tense, why don't you relax?"

You had to admit, you ached. The massage hurt a little as Lucrezia eased the knots in your back from driving so long. Alfonso slipped off your shoes and began massaging your feet, pulling you so you lay across the two of them as they rubbed and squeezed you, their too-strong hands loosening you up. Your eyes closed gently as exhaustion took over.

Your dream was dark, and troubled. You were running down the hallway of the house, chased by armed men. Every door you opened had either Lucrezia behind it, Alphonso, or both.

You snapped awake. In the bed in the nursery, morning light visible against the curtains. A maid was there, she curtseyed and left a tray on the end of your bed. Some toast, butter, jam, and a small cup of strong-smelling coffee. You checked on Sophie. Sleeping like an angel.

Breakfast was simple, but every bit as good as it looked. That was possibly the best coffee you'd ever had.

You picked up Sophie and started to explore your new home. Three floors, the maid told you the top floor was only for Lucrezia and Alphonso, their studies, the private chambers and whatnot, she told you you'd probably be allowed up eventually being family, just not yet.

And so your days passed, at first. Daytime was spent with Sophie in any combination of a dozen rooms between her nursery, the library, the TV room, or walking through the gardens. You looked forward to when she'd be old enough to teach to swim so you could use the swimming pool.

At night, your hosts finally finished whatever work they did all day and came downstairs to spend time with you and their granddaughter. They never seemed to eat with you, every day around nightfall a maid carrying a platter would walk up the staircase to their suites, but never seem to come back down until the following morning. Always a different one, too, which seemed odd.

It was amazing, the way Lucrezia had with Sophie, she could put her to sleep in moments. You'd stay up with them talking about your day, how your daughter was doing, never about them or their business... You let your mind wander as Lucrezia massaged your back again, you didn't know why she liked doing that, but you weren't going to stop her...

Shit. They were mobsters, weren't they? It checked out, armed guards, inexplicably wealthy, a preoccupation with privacy, family, and trust above all.

A roving hand snapped you out of your reverie. Alfonso had just pulled aside your underwear, his hand up your skirt. You yelped, Lucrezia held your shoulders.

You looked up at her, she smiled back "Now, now, we said we'd take care of all of your needs, and we meant it"

Alfonso's hand was rubbing the lips of your pussy. You were already wet, the massage had loosened you up more than you thought. His fingers slipped around your clit, making you whine as Lucrezia's attentions moved to your collarbones and your milk-filled tits, squeezing squirts of milk from you as you whimpered and gasped under their attention

Alfonso's tongue joined his hand, fingering your hole while he licked rings around your clit. You could feel the pressure building in your cunt as it twitched and your back arched. Lucrezia kissed your lips, and you came. You ground your cunt into Alfonso's face, no longer caring that these two are your parents in law, just wanting to prolong the orgasm running through you.

Your spasms subsided, you looked up at Lucrezia as you panted.

"Oh, child, I can't imagine what you think of us... You must think we're criminals?"

You nodded weakly. Alphonso laughed, looking at you from between your legs "Shall we give her the truth?"

Lucrezia manhandled you to the floor, forcing you to your knees, holding your head up as Alphonso stood over you, pulling out his cock as it hardened in his hands. "I'll need a drink after we're done. Hopefully it's as good as it looks"

Your mouth was forced open. Alphonso stuffed his semi-hard cock inside. You could feel it hardening as he thrust it in, invading you again and again as his wife crooned in your ear.

You bit down hard. He didn't stop. His groans got louder as he railed you harder, his cock pushing your throat as he came. It wasn't cum. His cock twitched a d throbbed, pulsing like he should be spraying cum down your throat, but it wasn't. It was blood.

The blood fell out of your mouth, but some trickled down your throat.

The world got sharper. Your head spun as you became hyper-aware of everything around you. Around, and in you. God you're horny. Your hand shot to your cunt, furiously rubbing yourself as you sucked his cock. He pulled out, rubbing the mix of blood and spit on your face. You tried to catch as much as you could before Lucrezia turned your head and licked your face, cleaning you of the mess her husband had made.

She stood before you and lifted the front of her skirt.

You couldn't stop yourself even if you wanted to. Your face was in her cunt, slurping and licking like an animal as she held you to her. You could feel her, already getting closer and closer as you licked and nibbled, her cunt oozing more wetness onto your face as you buried yourself in her folds. All you could taste was blood, all you wanted was more.

Lucrezia came hard, twitching and squirting into your mouth, covering your face.

You opened your eyes. You could see blood pooling below you, staining your top and your skirt. Alphonso was looking at you, so was Lucrezia, predatory eyes taking you in.

Alphonso bit you first. The searing pain of his fangs sinking in to your wrist making you grit your teeth. You screamed when Lucrezia bit the other.

The world became cold, your head spun a little as the vampires released you, licking the wounds to close them. Lucrezia barked a command in Italian, a man ran over and stabbed a needle into your arm. Giacomo. You saw a blood bag held over your head as you closed your eyes, letting sleep take you.

Giacomo was there in the morning when you awoke "Afternoon, ma'am. The bosses have asked I explain everything. Welcome to the beginning of the rest of your life."

######################################

So, fun fact: it's canon that literally every liquid a Kindred produces is vitae, except for in very specific circumstances. So, if you let a Kindred cum down your throat, you become a ghoul.

Honestly, goals.

To reiterate from the start, if you correctly identify which clan Alphonso and Lucrezia belong to you'll get to jump the queue! 2 prizes to claim this time as the clan name changed when Vampire V5 was published, so get to guessing! Promotion ends when the first winning guess is published 😉

On that note, even if you don't want to guess, I want to hear your requests, ideas, fantasies, whatever! This challenge is set to run right through to the end of the year and I intend to go the distance!

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purplereina11 · 2 months ago

Text

In a match where the scoreboard tells only half the story, a fierce on-pitch rivalry between you and football royalty, Alexia Putellas, evolves into something electric — something unspoken, but deeply felt. Between the lines two players lock eyes, trade touches, and blur the line between competition and connection. What begins as a game becomes a gravity neither can resist.

Part 3: 36 hours in Munich Other Parts

Word Count: 8k

⚽️

You’re in the locker room, post-session. Freshly changed but, pulse still settling, water bottle half-drunk and rolling somewhere near your bench. Everyone’s moving slow — stretches, recovery gear, shower queues. Typical post-training lull.

But you’re pacing already packing away, quicker than normal, you normally linger for longer. You sit finally. Jacket half-zipped. Legs twitchy, breath short, heart doing sprints while your teammates are winding down.

You check your phone for the sixth time in two minutes. Still nothing. Still soon.

“Alright,” a voice cuts through behind you. “Who is it?”

You look toward the voice. Georgia. Leaning against the wall, towel over her shoulder, one brow cocked. You blink. “What?”

“You’re all… shifty.” She waves a vague circle around you. “Nicely-dressed, hair down. You keep checking your phone like it's gonna grow lips.”

You try to brush it off. “It’s nothing.”

Georgia doesn’t even flinch. “Liar. Spill it.”

You stare at her for a second. You weren’t going to tell anyone. But something about her tone — casual but not cruel — makes your chest loosen. And you need to say it out loud. Just once.

You sigh, grab your other boot, and sit. “She’s flying in.”

Georgia pauses. “She?” You assumed Beth would of blabbed by now.

You swallow. “Alexia.”

That name lands like a stone in a calm pool. Georgia blinks once. “Putellas?”

“Yeah.”

She’s staring now. Like full-body-turn, jaw-slightly-dropped, towel-falling-off-the-shoulder staring. “For… ?” she tries.

You sigh a hand going through your freshly washed hair. “For a day.”

Her mouth opens. Then closes. Then opens again. “As in…”

You shrug, but you can’t help the way your face warms. “Yeah. As in that. She followed me after the home game against Barca, after the away game, that's when she first started DM'ing me" You smile at Georgia's mouth hanging open.

"Saying what?"

"Football stuff mainly, about the games, but after the last game at Wembley, she asked if she could come here to see me. I said yes.”

Georgia whistles low. “Bloody hell. You’re actually—” she stops herself. “Wait. Are you nervous?”

You nod, fast and helpless. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

She laughs, loud and bright. “You scored a free kick at Wembley in front of ninety thousand, but you’re sweating because the Queen of Barcelona herself is flying in for a sleepover?”

You put your hand out, "You say it like they're not both just as equally massive" You groan, head in hands. “Why did I tell you.”

Georgia grins. “Because you needed to.” She slaps your back once, warm and steady. “She’ll have a nice time I'm sure. And you're interesting when your social battery is full. Just don’t overthink it.” You look up. Georgia’s still smiling — not teasing now. Just sure. “Go get the girl from the airport,” she says. “Don't over think it, just take it for what it is, it's her idea to come here so let her lead what it is"

You roll your eyes. But you’re nodding too. Because yeah — it’s real now. She’s coming. And you have to be ready.

“Meado knows about mine and Alexia’s conversations, she doesn’t know about her coming. If you know, you need to freak out about this when I’m gone”

⚽️

The car is parked just beyond the pickup loop, engine idling low. Your hoodie’s half-zipped, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other drumming nervously against your thigh. You’ve been here twenty minutes early, but you’d never admit it.

Your phone lights up with a text.

Alexia: Just got my bag. Coming out now.

You swallow hard.

You glance in the rearview mirror, tug at your hair, check your reflection. You don’t even know why — it’s her, you’ve already been through matches and mud and bruises together — but somehow, this is different.

It’s real. And quiet. And outside the lines. The terminal doors slide open again. A few people walk out. Not her. Another group. Still not. Your fingers tap faster.

Then there she is. Alexia. Dressed in all black, sunglasses pushed up into her hair, duffel bag over her shoulder. She walks out calm, casual, that familiar captain’s posture in every step. But her eyes are already searching.

And the second she sees you, they soften. You watch her approach through the windshield, heart thudding so hard you’re sure she’ll hear it before she even opens the door.

She pulls it open and slides into the passenger seat with that impossible grace, dropping her bag between her feet. You look at her.

She looks at you. And for a second, neither of you says a thing.

“Hey,” you breathe, voice barely above the hum of the engine.

“Hey,” she says back, softer.

You both smile. It’s awkward and perfect and so much. “I can’t believe you’re actually here,” you say as you pull out into traffic.

She leans back in the seat, eyes still on you. “I told you,” she murmurs. “I didn’t want to miss you.”

The city rolls past in a blur of grey and gold. Low sunlight spills across the dashboard, and the soft thrum of music — something wordless and warm — fills the quiet between you.

You’re both a little awkward. Not painfully so. Just… cautiously new.

It’s strange, this version of her — in your passenger seat, seatbelt clicking into place, fingers drumming lightly on her thigh. She’s looking out the window, but keeps glancing at you when she thinks you won’t notice.

You notice. “Airport was easy, then?” you ask, just to fill the silence.

She nods. “Very. One person tried to sneak a photo. But I gave them the look.”

You smirk. “The full ‘Putellas Death Glare’?”

“Level three only,” she says, mock serious. “Mild warning.”

You laugh under your breath, relaxing a little. Her accent’s thicker in person, softer in a car. You don’t know why that makes your stomach twist the way it does.

She glances at you again, a little longer this time. “It’s weird,” she murmurs. “Hearing you talk without a crowd around us.”

You smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

You make it through another light, and the silence stretches — still easy, but expectant.

Then suddenly — you freeze. “Oh shit.”

Alexia blinks. “What?”

You wince. “I forgot to tell you something kind of… important.”

She turns in her seat, curious. “What did you forget?”

You drum your fingers on the wheel. “I have a dog.”

Alexia blinks again. Then a slow smile tugs at her lips. “That’s what you forgot?”

“Well, yeah,” you say, already cringing. “I just—I meant to tell you. I’m not one of those people who spring dogs on people. He’s sweet. I swear.”

She’s laughing now — full, rich, effortless. “You make it sound like you’ve got a bear waiting at the door.”

“He’s just… enthusiastic,” you say, biting your lip. “His name’s Teddy.”

Alexia tilts her head, teasing. “Named after?”

“Teddy bear. Don’t judge me.”

She holds up both hands. “No judgment. But I can’t believe you didn’t lead with that.”

You glance at her. “Still time to turn around, you know.”

She smiles wider, looking straight ahead again. “I came here to see you,” she says softly. “Teddy’s just a bonus.”

And just like that, the nerves quiet. Just a little.

⚽️

You pull into the parking spot in the street, heart suddenly faster than it was on the pitch at Wembley.

Alexia’s quiet beside you, seatbelt undone, hands folded in her lap. But you feel her eyes on you as you kill the engine and sit for a second longer than necessary.

“This is it,” you say, finally, looking up at your loft apartment on the third floor

She nods. “Cute street.”

You grin. “Cute flat.”

She smirks. “Cute dog?”

You shoot her a look. “He’s trying his best.”

You both laugh as you get out. The early evening air is cool, the sky dipping into that soft lilac blue. You grab her small bag from the boot, and as you unlock the door, you hesitate.

“He might bark.”

“I can handle it,” she says, smiling.

You push the door open. It takes exactly one second.

Teddy barrels around the corner, all paws and excitement, nails tapping on the floor like a drumroll. His tail is going wild, and he’s already launching toward you when he spots the new presence behind you.

Alexia steps in, closing the door behind her. Teddy freezes. Then bolts straight for her.

You open your mouth to intervene—“Teddy, no!”—but before you can, Alexia’s already crouching down, calm and soft.

“Hola, precioso,” she murmurs, holding out a hand. And Teddy melts.

Tail wagging, head pressing into her palm, tongue ready for her cheek like she’s his long-lost soulmate.

You blink. “Well,” you mutter, “traitor.”

Alexia looks up at you, grinning as she scratches behind his ears. “He has taste,” she says. “Clearly.”

You lean against the doorframe, watching her — hair falling into her face, Teddy now rolling onto his back like he’s never known loyalty — and something in your chest settles. Warms.

Alexia stands, finally, brushing dog fur from her knees.

“Welcome to Germany,” you say, quieter now.

She doesn’t look away when she answers. “Thanks,” she says. “It already feels like a good idea.”

And for the first time all day, you believe you can relax. Because she’s here. This is just the beginning.

You toe off your shoes by the door, glance back to find Alexia standing just inside, Teddy still sniffing reverently at her shoes like he’s found royalty. Her bag’s at her feet, her jacket draped over her arm.

You clear your throat. “Right—um. Tour.”

She smiles like she’s already charmed. “I’m ready.”

You lead her into the main space — open-plan living room and kitchen. The walls are clean, but lived-in. A few photos on a shelf — one of the squad after a cup match, another of you and Beth pulling stupid faces at the camera. A soft throw blanket is half-fallen off the back of the couch. A candle you forgot you lit earlier is still flickering on the coffee table.

“This is the, uh—living-slash-existing space,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “Teddy thinks it belongs to him.”

Teddy immediately hops onto the couch, circles twice, and settles like you’ve just proven his point. Alexia grins.

You lead her into the kitchen, flicking on the under-counter light. “I don’t cook much, but the kettle works. Coffee pods are in here.” You tap a cupboard. “Mugs — there.”

She opens it, scans the shelves. “All mismatched.”

You shrug. “I collect them. Kind of.”

“I like it,” she says, softly. “It feels like someone lives here.”

You duck your head, smiling.

You show her the bathroom next — small, clean, stocked with too many hair ties and one towel you warn her not to use because it’s definitely Teddy’s now.

And then the hallway. Two doors.

“That one’s mine,” you say, thumb over your shoulder. “The other’s yours while you’re here.”

She doesn’t hesitate. Just peeks inside. A double bed, made neatly. Fresh towels folded at the foot.

She steps inside. Smiles softly looking around more.

You clear your throat. “I didn’t want it to feel weird.”

“It doesn’t,” she says. “It feels like you thought about it.”

“I did,” you admit.

It slips out quieter than you mean it to, but you don’t take it back.

Alexia meets your eyes. “Thank you. For having me.”

You nod toward the room. “Make yourself at home, yeah? My place is your place.”

She steps a little closer. Not much. Just enough that you feel her presence like a hum. “I already feel at home,” she says.

And the way she says it. It makes your chest ache. In the best way. You raise your eyes when they moved away from hers, "I'll um, leave you to unpack" you take a step back, "Teddy" you call, he appears around the foot of the bed, "Come" you give Alexia one final look and you walk back down the hallway.

She smiled opening her bag as she heard you chatting away to Teddy about getting him some treats, asking for various tricks from him.

⚽️

You tried to cook. You really did. But somewhere between boiling the pasta and burning the garlic, you gave up and ordered takeaway. Alexia didn’t mind. In fact, she looked almost relieved.

Now you’re both curled up on the couch, watching a show on a streaming app neither of you are paying attention to, warm plates in your laps and the soft, flickering glow of your fairy lights stretching across the ceiling.

She’s in one of your hoodies now. You hadn’t meant to offer it — just handed it over without thinking when she mentioned how cold planes make her feel.

It swallows her in all the right ways.

Teddy’s curled at your feet. Loyal again. For now.

“Okay,” she says mid-bite, glancing at you. “I need to know something.”

You look over, wiping your fingers on a napkin. “What?”

She gestures with her fork. “Do you actually like this pasta place, or is it just close?”

You fake a gasp. “You don’t like it?”

“I didn’t say that,” she says, trying to hide her smile. “I just—your face when you handed it to me said, ‘This is the best I’ve got, but I know it’s not the best in the world.’”

You laugh. “Alright, yeah. It’s proximity-based love.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Respect.”

The TV plays something forgettable in the background — neither of you are really watching it. The kind of background noise that just fills in the edges of something far more focused. Like the way she’s sitting. One leg folded beneath her, turned just slightly toward you. Or the way you’re watching her mouth more than listening to her words.

She puts her plate down on the coffee table, wipes her hands, then leans back. “You were nervous,” she says suddenly.

You blink. “When?”

“Earlier. At the airport. In the car.”

You roll your eyes. “Was it that obvious?”

She smiles, soft and real. “A little.”

You look down at your plate, then back at her. “I just… didn’t want it to feel weird.”

Alexia tilts her head slightly. “It doesn’t. You make it easy.”

That catches you off guard. You blink once, then set your plate down too. The silence stretches. But it’s not awkward. It’s warm. “I’m glad you came,” you say.

She leans her head back against the couch, eyes on you now in that slow, deliberate way she does everything. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” she says.

Alexia is fiddling with the sleeve of your hoodie — pulling at the hem with her thumb like she doesn’t realise she’s doing it. She’s not really looking at you. Not often. Just quick glances. Then back down. Then away.

You’re talking about random things. Easy things. Football. Training. Travel. Things you are confident you have in common.

She tells you about a weird airport coffee she had in Zurich. You tell her about the time Teddy accidentally got locked in your bathroom for 20 minutes and emerged looking personally betrayed.

And every now and then, there’s a pause that lasts a little longer than it should. But neither of you fill it. You just let it be. Eventually, you nudge your leg gently against hers. “You’re quiet.”

Alexia shifts. “Am I?”

You smile. “A little. For someone who just flew here to hang out with me.”

She huffs a quiet laugh. It’s barely there. “I’m just…” She trails off. Shrugs. “I’m not good at this part.”

You tilt your head. “What part?”

She stares at the coffee table like it’s got answers. “The talking part.” You wait. She finally looks at you — really looks. “I know how to show up to a match,” she says, voice low. “How to lead. How to win. That makes sense to me. But this?” She gestures between you. “This is…” She doesn’t finish.

You finish it for her. “New.”

She nods. And for a second, you think maybe she’s going to stand up, shift away, hide behind something safe. But she doesn’t. She just sits there. Awkward. Present. Willing.

You offer a small, understanding smile. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight.”

She exhales, a little lighter now. “Good. Because I didn’t bring a tactics board.”

You both laugh. Softly. Easily. She doesn’t say anything else for a while — just leans back again, arms crossed over her chest now, head tilted slightly in your direction.

Eventually, she mumbles, almost like it’s for herself, “I’m glad I came too.” You nudge her foot with yours, with a gentle smile.

Alexia’s sitting sideways on the couch, one leg tucked under her, the other stretched out slightly, your hoodie sleeves pushed halfway up her forearms. You’re close, but not quite touching.

The conversation’s slowed to a hum — soft music talk, playlists, half-confessions about guilty pleasure songs. She mentions a Catalan band you’ve never heard of, and while she’s scrolling through her phone to find a song, your eyes drift downward.

And then you see it. A couple of faint lines on her knee. Pale, clean, but unmistakable. The scar. You pause. Not out of shock — you knew. You remember the coverage, the months out, the comeback.

But seeing it? That’s different. It’s not just a story now. It’s her. She notices your eyes drop. And for the first time all night, she goes still.

“Yeah,” she says softly, not quite looking at you. “That’s… that.”

You meet her eyes again. She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t hide. But there’s something guarded in her voice. Like she’s used to people staring at it, asking about it, expecting something from it. You don’t ask. You just nod once, gentle. “Looks like strength,” you say, matter-of-fact.

Alexia’s brow furrows, unsure if you’re serious. But you are. She shifts slightly — not closer, but more open somehow. Her hand moves instinctively toward her knee, fingers grazing the scar once, like she’s reminding herself it’s still there.

“Sometimes it feels like I left a part of myself in there,” she murmurs. “The version of me from before.”

You let that hang. Then, quietly, “The version of you now scored against me. Twice.”

She huffs a breath. “Only one actually went in.”

“Still counts.”

She glances at you — and her smile is tired, genuine, laced with something like gratitude. Not for the words. For the way you didn’t try to fix it. Just saw it. And stayed.

The playlist she queued has faded into a quiet acoustic hum — soft, wordless, like it knows it shouldn’t interrupt. The light in the room has gone warm and low, one lamp casting golden arcs over her face as she leans back into the couch, knee still bent, hand still ghosting near the scar.

You don’t speak. You wait. And eventually — slowly — she does.

“I didn’t think I’d come back,” she says, voice low, eyes fixed on the ceiling like it’s easier not to look at you. “Not really.”

You blink, still, letting her keep control of it.

“Everyone kept saying I would. That I’d be fine. That I was strong, that I’d be back in a year. But inside…” She swallows. “I didn’t feel strong. I didn’t even feel whole. I felt… like I’d been cut out of myself.”

You shift just slightly. Not closer — not yet. But enough to let her know, I’m here. She breathes, slow.

“I’d watch games and feel like I didn’t belong anymore. Like I’d already been replaced. And I didn’t want anyone to know how scared I was because… I’m not supposed to be scared. I’m her, you know?” She finally looks at you now. “La Reina” You meet her eyes, steady. She adds, barely audible, “But I felt like glass.”

The words hang in the room — fragile, but not broken. You nod once. Then say the only thing you really believe in this moment. “I think you’re better now.”

Her brow pulls, confused. “What?”

You lean back, resting your head on the couch, looking up like she did. “You’re smarter. Sharper. Your passes don’t just thread — they cut. You’ve got control most people don’t even understand. And there’s a weight to the way you move now, like you know exactly what it costs to step back onto the pitch.”

You turn your head to her again.

“I’ve watched you before. Really watched you. You were always brilliant. But now?” You shrug. “You’re something else.”

Alexia stares at you, mouth parted slightly — like no one’s ever said it that way. Not like that. Not to her. She doesn’t say thank you. She just shifts — this time closer. Not dramatic. Just enough. Her shoulder brushes yours. Her knee bumps your thigh. And she lets out a breath that sounds a little like relief. “Thank you,” she murmurs eventually, eyes back on the scar. And then, softer: “I’ve never said that stuff out loud.”

You nod. “I know.” The quiet returns — not heavy this time. Comfortable. Like something sacred just happened, and you both know it.

She’s close now. Arm resting lightly against yours. Your hoodie sleeves bunching at her wrists. The scar still visible — but no longer raw. You glance down at her, the way her gaze has softened since she spoke, how her edges feel less guarded, like your living room gave her permission she didn’t even know she needed.

You swallow once. Think. Then speak. “You know… when I moved to Germany, people said it was career suicide.”

Alexia turns her head slightly, brows faintly drawn. Listening now. Not out of politeness. Intention. You stare ahead.

“Agents stopped calling. Interviews dried up. One coach — someone I used to really trust — told me I’d disappear. That I’d ‘fade out quietly.’” You huff a laugh, but there’s no humour in it. “I hadn’t even unpacked yet.”

Alexia is silent. Not interrupting. Just there.

“I’d scroll through social media and see all the squad updates, the camps, the conversations I wasn’t in anymore. And I thought… maybe they’re right. Maybe I peaked.”

You pause. Swallow.

“I started believing it. Like I was a mistake that was just waiting to happen.”

Alexia shifts slightly, her arm pressing into yours, grounding you.

“But then,” you continue, voice quieter now, “I played. I worked. And I kept showing up. And slowly… something changed. Not in them. In me.”

Alexia tilts her head. You glance at her.

“I stopped playing to prove people wrong,” you say. “And I started playing like they didn’t get a say.”

There’s a pause. And then—so soft you almost miss it—she says, “I noticed.”

You look at her. She’s watching you now — full on. Not blinking. Not shrinking. And when she speaks again, it’s steady.

“You didn’t disappear. You became better.”

You smile, but there’s a knot in your throat. Because you know she means it. And you never expected to hear it from her. Alexia leans her head back against the couch, her body still relaxed but her voice dipped low again.

“I know what that doubt feels like,” she says. “And I know how heavy it is to prove yourself to people who already made up their minds.”

You nod. “It’s exhausting.”

She murmurs, “And lonely.”

The room goes quiet again. But this time? Not lonely. Just two people sitting in a space neither of you were sure existed — honest, open, real. No spotlight. No pressure. Just you and her. And the ache you’ve both come back from.

⚽️

It’s late.

So late the playlist stopped a while ago. So late the city outside your windows feels like it’s on mute. You both stretch at almost the same time — that lazy, reluctant movement that means okay, maybe we should sleep but neither of you want to break the quiet just yet.

You stand first. Alexia follows. She’s still in your hoodie, tugging it down slightly, bare feet padding across the floor as you walk her to the guest room — side by side in a hush that feels warmer than anything words could’ve done.

You pause at the door.

She turns to face you, one hand on the doorframe. Her hair’s a little messy now, eyes slightly glassy with exhaustion. Her voice, when it comes, is soft and almost shy.

“Thanks for tonight.”

You smile, slow. “Thanks for coming.”

She nods, then looks down like she might say something else. But she doesn’t. You step back slightly, hands in your hoodie pockets, eyes flicking to hers.

“Goodnight, Alexia.”

She looks up at that. And for a second — just one second — the look on her face says everything else she didn’t say. Then she nods, once. Barely a smile. But it reaches her eyes. “Goodnight.”

She slips into the room. You don’t linger. Just turn toward your own — quiet footsteps down the short hall. You push the door open and Teddy. Right there, already curled up in the middle of your bed. One eye open, tail thumping lazily against the duvet like, about time.

You smile, rubbing the back of your neck as you sit on the edge of the bed. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You pick it up.

Alexia: Sleep well. You talk less than I thought you would. I liked it.

You stare at the message for a second, then type back:

You: You talk more than I thought you would. I liked it too.

Teddy sighs dramatically. You laugh under your breath. Then switch off the light. And for the first time in a long time, you fall asleep not needing to prove anything. Because she’s here. And you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

⚽️

You wake to the smell of coffee. And the distinct sound of Teddy betraying you. You roll out of bed, hair a mess, hoodie tugged low over your hands, padding barefoot into the kitchen where—There she is.

Alexia.

Still in your hoodie. One sock on, one foot bare. Mug in hand, eyes still puffy with sleep, standing at your counter while Teddy leans against her legs like he’s never loved anyone else.

She glances up when you walk in, and her smile is soft. Unbrushed. Unfiltered. Real.

“Morning,” she says, voice husky.

You squint. “How’d you find the biscuits?”

She holds up the mug in salute. “I’m elite. And you left a post-it that said ‘left cupboard, top shelf, if teddy won't leave you alone'.”

You grin. “I knew past-me had potential.”

She turns back to the counter, pouring more water into the kettle, while Teddy attempts to wedge himself between her and the cabinets, tail sweeping the floor like a metronome.

“You realise he’s using you,” you say, grabbing a clean mug.

“He can use me all he wants,” she says, reaching down to scratch his ears. “He’s warm.”

You watch her — the way her fingers slide under Teddy’s collar, the way her mouth twitches when he tries to climb into her actual lap. It’s not a moment. Not a capital-letter Event. But something in your chest aches anyway.

Because she looks right here.

You grab the eggs, start cracking them into the pan. She pulls down two plates without being asked. Neither of you talks much. Just a few sleepy comments, heads bumping once as you both reach for the cutlery drawer.

When you sit across from her at the little kitchen table — plates steaming, dog underfoot — she catches your eye as you tuck your leg up under you. She doesn’t look away. Not for a while.

You hold it. You hold her. And the smile she gives you. It says I see this. I feel it. I’m here.

After breakfast, you throw a hoodie over your tee, pull on your trainers, and rattle Teddy’s lead. He loses his mind, of course — spinning, barking, pawing at the door like it personally wronged him.

“You wanna come?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at Alexia.

She shrugs. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

She throws on a coat of yours on hook, slips into her trainers, and follows you out the door — hair tied up, sleeves rolled down, sunglasses perched on her head like she forgot the sun lives here too despite the cold.

You walk through quiet neighbourhood streets, Teddy darting side to side, nose in every hedge. You and her? Side by side. Not touching. Not saying much. But every now and then, you catch her watching you. And when you glance back— She doesn’t look away.

You loop around the quiet end of the park, the noise of the street fading behind you, and find your bench — tucked under a tree just starting to bloom, a little weathered, sun-warmed. Teddy bounds ahead, lead dropped loose in your hand, tail sweeping in wide arcs like a painter’s brush.

Alexia sits first, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying not to take up space but still wants to stay close. You drop beside her, leg stretched long, hands resting over your thighs.

For a while, you both just sit. Watching Teddy. Letting the quiet settle.

Then Alexia speaks, voice dry. “You really weren’t kidding about him being enthusiastic.”

You glance at her. She’s staring at Teddy, who’s currently rolling in something deeply questionable on the grass. You sigh.

“Yeah but he’s loyal.. until someone has better snacks anyway.”

She snorts. “I didn’t even have snacks.”

“Exactly,” you say, nudging her foot with yours. “He’s just shallow.”

She smirks, then leans back a little, adjusting the sleeves of your coat again. “He’s got taste, though. He likes me.”

You raise a brow. “Are you calling yourself a snack?”

“I’m not denying it.”

You laugh — sharp, sudden, surprised. And it makes her smile wider “You’ve got this whole mysterious captain thing,” you say, squinting at her. “But secretly, you’re kind of cocky.”

She tilts her head, smug. “Only when I’m right.” You roll your eyes, but your grin’s too soft to mean it. There’s a pause. Then, more gently “I like this,” she says, not looking at you now — just forward, at the dog, at the path.

You shift, the warmth of her words settling low in your ribs. “This?” you echo.

She nods. “The quiet. You. Teddy. This bench.” She pauses, then smirks again. “Even your coat.”

You laugh, quieter this time. “You make it look better than I do.”

“I know.” She meets your eyes then. And the silence that follows doesn't last long until you're leaning into each other laughing about it.

You clear your throat, picking at a thread on your sleeve, when the little old lady that you see everyday was eyeing you with annoyance, "So, um… are you always like this when you’re off the pitch?”

Alexia blinks. “Like what?”

You shrug. “A bit smug. Surprisingly funny. Secretly soft.”

She narrows her eyes, mock offended. “Secretly?”

You smirk. “I mean, the brand is very serious captain with cheekbones that could cut glass.”

Alexia hums. “Cheekbones and a scar. Very dramatic.”

“Oh, absolutely. You’re one trench coat away from being a Bond villain.” That gets a real laugh — full-bodied and sudden. She leans her head back against the bench, still smiling.

Then, “You make this easy,” she says, softer now. “Being here.”

You glance at her. And for a second, it’s all there again — the pitch, the free kick, the weight of it all.

But here, it’s light. You bump your knee gently against hers. “I’m glad you came, Alexia.” She doesn’t look away this time.

“I am too.”

You stretch your legs out in front of you, glancing sideways at her — Alexia, sitting there so casually now, one foot tucked beneath her, face tilted toward the sun like she’s been here a dozen times instead of just once.

You reach down to pat Teddy’s back as he wanders close.

Then glance at her.

“Do you like clichés?”

She lifts a brow. “What kind of question is that?”

You shrug, casual. “Like, romantic comedies. Grand gestures. Saying the same dumb things everyone else does. Standing on famous streets pretending you’re having an authentic experience.”

Alexia leans back, lips twitching. “You’re stalling.”

You grin. “Maybe.”

She squints at you now, playful. “Okay. Ask me properly.”

You turn toward her fully, arms folded over your chest like you’re about to deliver something serious.

“Would you like to do all the ridiculously cliché tourist things in Munich with me today?”

Alexia’s head tips slightly to the side, considering.

You keep going.

“I mean the whole deal — the Marienplatz selfie. Pretending to care about the Glockenspiel. Giant pretzels. A walk through the Englischer Garten where I’ll tell you lies about German history I definitely make up.”

Her smile creeps in slowly — then fully.

“I want lederhosen photos.”

You gasp, dramatically. “That’s advanced cliché.”

“I’m committed.”

You laugh. “God help us.”

She leans in slightly. “Only if you wear them too.”

You groan. “I’ve made a mistake.”

“You offered.”

You hold her gaze for a second, heart kicking a little louder now beneath all the lightness.

And she’s still smiling.

But there’s something genuine behind it.

Like maybe, for the first time in a long time, she’s just saying yes to a day that doesn’t come with pressure, or cameras, or expectations.

Just you.

She nudges your knee with hers. “So? We going or what?”

You whistle for Teddy. “Marienplatz, prepare yourself.”

⚽️

You start with Marienplatz. Because of course you do.

The crowds are already gathering under the watchful clock of the Neues Rathaus, phones out and necks craning toward the tower. You know the Glockenspiel starts at eleven. You’ve seen it a dozen times. It’s slow. It’s slightly underwhelming. But you still pretend like it’s sacred.

“People clap after this?” Alexia murmurs beside you, watching a small bronze knight rotate in a slow, juddering circle.

“Every time,” you whisper back. “It’s powerful.”

She gives you the driest look you’ve ever seen and it almost takes you out.

You snap a selfie right there — her unimpressed expression next to your exaggerated awe. It’s perfect. You don't even check it before saving.

From there it’s Viktualienmarkt — where you insist on finding the most absurdly oversized pretzel possible. Alexia watches you barter with a vendor and somehow ends up paying instead. She splits it with you anyway. You walk through the stalls like locals, even though you're both definitely not.

You buy her a little pin shaped like a beer stein. You stick it to her jacket pocket. “Souvenir,” she says.

You end up in the Englischer Garten by early afternoon, the kind of place where the trees stretch wide and people picnic like they’ve got nowhere else to be. Teddy loses his mind over a pigeon and nearly pulls Alexia into a fountain.

You don’t let that one go quietly. “Two time Ballon D'or, and you still couldn’t hold the line.”

“It was a very fast pigeon.”

You laugh until you’re leaning against her, shoulder to shoulder, catching your breath while Teddy runs victory laps around you both.

At the beer garden, you sit under the shade of chestnut trees, and Alexia orders something she can’t pronounce while you pretend to translate and definitely make it worse.

She tries white sausage and doesn’t hide her reaction.

You raise a brow. “Too real?”

“I can mark out midfielders. I can’t defend this texture.”

You toast anyway.

Later, you wander without purpose — through side streets with painted shutters and ivy-streaked balconies, past musicians playing under archways and little kids holding balloon strings tight to their wrists. Alexia keeps her sunglasses low on her nose, watching it all.

“I get why you like it here,” she says.

You glance over. “Yeah?”

She nods, then adds softly, “You fit here.”

It sticks.

You end up near the river as golden hour starts to take the edge off the buildings. There’s a stone ledge overlooking the water. You sit. She leans back on her hands, face turned to the sky.

“Okay,” she says finally. “This was... fun.”

You grin. “You sound surprised.”

“I am. I didn’t think cliché could feel like this.”

“Like what?”

She glances at you. Her expression doesn’t change much — but her voice does. “Easy.”

You don’t say anything for a second. Just smile. Then bump her knee gently with yours. “Think we earned ice cream?”

She tilts her head. “Is that part of the cliché package?”

“Obviously.”

You walk back into the city with cones in hand, Teddy leading the way again, tail wagging like a metronome keeping time with your steps.

And somewhere along that walk — maybe crossing a street, or brushing hands as you trade bites of each other’s flavours — something soft settles between you.

Not tension. Not expectation. Just understanding.

⚽️

You swing by the flat first — the front door barely closed before Teddy flops dramatically across the hallway floor like he’s survived something immense.

Alexia kneels down beside him, ruffles behind his ears, and says, “You’ll be alright without us.”

He sighs like he won’t.

You both change quickly — nothing fancy, just different hoodies, fresh faces, the kind of casual that looks better on her than it has any right to.

The bar you pick is a local one — tucked into a side street off the main square, part wine bar, part café, part 'we might have regulars but we won’t pretend to know your name unless you want us to.'

You take the corner table. The lights are soft and golden, the walls cluttered with mismatched frames and shelves of wine bottles. You order a bottle of white you’ve had before — one you hope she’ll like — and a snack board that arrives faster than expected: warm bread, cheese, olives, salted almonds.

She looks around, impressed. “You bring all your international friends here?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Only the ones who knock me out the champions league.”

“Fair,” she says, hiding a smile behind her glass.

You’ve barely had a sip before you reach into your bag and pull out a battered Uno deck.

Alexia blinks. “You brought cards?”

“They have them as you walk in. I’m competitive,” you say, shrugging. “And brave.”

She laughs once, short and sharp. “You’re going to regret this.”

“I’ve already accepted that.” You deal. And it begins.

It starts civil. Friendly. Smirks over skips. Light jabs when she stacks draw twos. You both pick at the snack board between plays, hands brushing occasionally as you reach for the same olive.

But by the second game, It’s personal.

She slams down a reverse like it’s a tactical sub in a final. You pull a draw four from your hoodie pocket like a weapon of war. She narrows her eyes. You lift your brows, mock-innocent.

It’s deadly serious. It’s ridiculous. And you’re both grinning like you haven’t stopped since this morning.

The bar starts to fill in slowly, but your little corner stays quiet — like a bubble you haven’t noticed growing around you. Just you, her, your wine glasses catching the light, and a stack of discarded cards that tells a very messy, very entertaining story.

Somewhere between games, you pause — mid-sip, watching her draw her hand.

“Are you always like this?” you ask. “Lowkey evil under all that calm?”

She looks up, unbothered. “Only when provoked.”

You laugh, leaning back. “Remind me not to cross you again.”

She smirks, eyes flicking up at you over her cards. “You already did,” she says, laying down a wild card.

The round ends. She wins.

You groan dramatically and throw your cards onto the table. She raises her hands in mock celebration, then quietly steals another piece of cheese from your side of the board.

“You know,” she says casually, chewing, “This might be the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

You blink. She doesn’t look up right away — just flips the deck over and starts reshuffling it absentmindedly.

But you’re watching her. And there’s no doubt in your mind. She means it.

⚽️

The walk home from the bar is slow. No rush. No real conversation either. Just a lot of little smiles. Shoulders brushing sometimes. The city quieter now — streetlights pooling in soft circles at your feet.

When you reach your building, you both slip inside quietly, Teddy greeting you at the door with a sleepy grumble and a thump of his tail.

You toe off your shoes, hang your jacket, glance over at her — and then, impulsively:

“Wanna see something stupid?”

Alexia blinks. “Not usually the way someone convinces me to follow them, but… sure.”

You grin.

You lead her through the flat — past the living room, into your bedroom. Teddy hops onto the bed like he’s reclaiming his kingdom. You move to the window — the one you always leave cracked just a little — and unlatch it the rest of the way.

You glance back at her.

She’s standing with her arms folded, watching you like she’s bracing for something truly ridiculous.

You duck out first — onto the sloped bit of roofing just beyond the window, socks scraping softly against the tiles. You crouch low, then stand carefully, balancing with practiced ease.

You turn and beckon. Alexia just stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

She steps closer, looks out.

The drop’s not that bad. 22 feet, maybe. But the tiles are slick with dew, and there’s no railing, no barrier, no sensible adult supervision.

“This is wildly unsafe,” she mutters.

You just smile. “Come on. I’m not gonna let you fall.”

She glares at you, muttering something in Catalan that sounds very judgmental. But you can see it — the twitch at the corner of her mouth. She’s not really mad.

She’s just concerned. Which somehow only makes it better.

After a few more seconds of muttering under her breath, she sighs dramatically, steps up onto the ledge, and eases herself through the window with surprising grace — a little unsteady at first, reaching for your hand instinctively.

You catch it. Steady her. “See?” you say, squeezing her fingers lightly. “Easy.”

“Still stupid,” she mutters.

But she doesn’t pull away. You lead her a few steps up — careful, slow — until you both settle onto the slightly flatter part of the roof, side by side, legs pulled up to your chest..

She finally looks up the whole city stretches out in front of her.

The rooftops curve into the skyline, lights twinkling like fallen stars. The dark river cuts a lazy path through the buildings. A few stray sirens whine in the distance, but mostly it’s just quiet. Wide and open and impossibly still.

Alexia exhales — a soft, almost disbelieving sound. The corners of her mouth lift. And whatever worry she had before melts off her shoulders.

“Okay,” she says, voice lighter now. “Maybe it’s worth the risk.”

You bump your knee against hers. “Told you.”

You sit like that for a long time — no rush, no plan. Just the two of you, the city breathing around you, your hands close enough to touch if you dared.

Every now and then, you glance over and catch her watching the lights, the horizon, the night itself like she’s letting herself believe she could belong to something this simple.

The climb back in through the window is quieter than the climb out.

Alexia moves slower now, heavy with the kind of tired that comes after a day full of laughter and nowhere to be but here. She drops softly into your bedroom, feet padding across the floor, hoodie sleeves pulled down over her hands again.

You follow behind, closing the window gently behind you.

Teddy’s already curled up on the bed, barely lifting his head to acknowledge your return. He gives Alexia one approving thump of the tail. You’re not sure if it’s for coming back safely or for still being here.

You rub at the back of your neck, eyes a little hazy, wine long gone.

Alexia stands in the doorway to the guest room now, hand on the frame. Her expression is soft — not sleepy exactly, just settled.

She looks at you. And it hits again — this moment. How simple it is. How much it means. You lean against the wall across from her, arms crossed loosely, smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

“I’ll make sure you don’t miss your flight in the morning,” you say.

She smirks faintly. “You better.”

“I’ll set three alarms.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Four.”

You laugh, quiet and tired. “Pushy.”

She shrugs. “Punctual.”

The pause that follows isn’t awkward. It’s full. Of all the things neither of you are saying right now. But it’s okay. You already said so much.

She shifts slightly, head tilting. “Today was…”

You nod. “Yeah.”

She doesn’t finish the sentence. She doesn’t have to.

You step forward, and without thinking, you pull her into a light hug — not long, not heavy, but enough. Enough to feel the warmth of her hoodie, the steady beat of her breath, the soft slide of her hand as it rests briefly on the back of your head.

You pull back just a little. She’s still close. “Goodnight, Alexia.”

Her eyes flicker — tired and unreadable, but warmer now “Goodnight.”

She steps into the guest room and closes the door behind her with a gentle click. You exhale.

Teddy stretches across your bed with a groan like he just ran the city.

You flick off the hallway light, pad back into your room, and crawl beneath the covers.

The room is dark now. But your chest is full. And your alarms are definitely set. Tomorrow she leaves.

⚽️

The alarms buzz you awake just after six.

Teddy barely lifts his head as you stumble into the kitchen, yawning, the world outside still caught between night and day.

Alexia��s already up. You find her sitting on the edge of the couch, tying her sneakers — hair messy, hoodie slung loose over her frame, backpack by her feet.

She looks up when you walk in, and there’s a small, tired smile waiting for you. “Morning,” she says, voice thick with sleep.

You hum a reply, rubbing your eyes. Neither of you rush.

You load Teddy into the backseat. He whines a little, sensing something is different. The drive to the airport is quiet — warm coffee cups in the holders, the radio playing something soft neither of you bother to change.

She leans her forehead against the window once, watching the fields blur into concrete. When you pull up to Departures, you leave the car idling, glancing over at her.

She’s already unbuckling her seatbelt, but neither of you move right away.

The city is waking up outside. You’re wide awake here. Alexia shifts in her seat to face you. “This was…” She trails off, the words sticking again.

You smile, small. “Yeah. It was.”

She fiddles with the ring on her finger.

You grip the steering wheel lightly. “You’ll make your flight.”

She nods. “Thanks for not letting me oversleep.”

You bump your shoulder against hers gently. “Thanks for making it hard to say goodbye.”

That gets a real smile — tired, fond, a little crooked. She opens the door, stepping out into the sharp morning air. You get out too.

You meet her around the back of the car — not rushed, not dramatic. Just standing there, with a sea of taxis and early travelers moving around you like another current you’re not ready to step into yet.

She shoulders her bag. You jam your hands into your hoodie pockets.

Then — simply — she steps closer. You think she might hug you. You think you might need her to.

But instead, she reaches up — slow, careful — and hooks one finger lightly around your hoodie drawstring. Tugs it once. Soft. Playful.

“Text me when you get home,” you say, even though you’re already sure she will.

Alexia nods. “You too.”

And then — because she knows when to let things stay perfect — she turns and walks toward the entrance. You watch her weave through the doors. She doesn’t look back. Not until she’s just inside, bag slung over one shoulder, ticket in hand. Then she does. Just once.

She finds you through the glass — through the crowd and the noise and the press of the world. She smiles. Small. Sure. Enough.

You lift a hand. She does too. Then she’s gone, swallowed into the current of the airport.

You stand there a moment longer, breath fogging in the chill, Teddy’s nose nudging your hand.

You pat his head. Then you climb back into the car. And drive home, to grab a few more hours of sleep before training.

#alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas fanfic #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #woso #barca femeni #barcelona femeni #alexia putellas imagine #woso imagine #alexia putellas x y/n #alexia putellas one shot #fcb femeni

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ellabscrush · 1 year ago

Text

— driver!ellabs headcanons 🛞

thinking about you being ellie & abby’s passenger princess..

» content; modern hcs, poly relationship, afab!reader, specific hcs, fluff, no smut just slight making out lol. mentions of road anxiety.

» a/n; the middle pic is literally abby and ellie coded. anyways, i felt like making this because is it just me orrrr is driving attractive?? especially when you imagine ellie and or abby driving you around??

divider creds to @cafekitsune

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ELLIE WILLIAMS

driver!ellie lowkey would drive a used, 2000’s old ass sedan that has a few trash laying around the backseat.

driver!ellie often greets you by giving a peck on your lips, your neck, and compliments you as always.

driver!ellie random smiskis on the dash board you gifted her + glow in the dark star stickers on her sun roof ◡̈

driver!ellie blasts music but would ask you if it’s too loud for your liking.

driver!ellie she road rages SO much. like she has zero chill when it comes to being on the road. even when she’s the one at fault or the other car infront of her is driving the speed limit, she usually cusses them out for no reason 😭

driver!ellie stingy with aux but loves you so she hands her phone over so you could play your own music strictly on queue.

driver!ellie her music playlist covers are soft launch pictures of you.. and sometimes abby.

driver!ellie rests her slender hands on your thigh when she’s not as focused on traffic.

driver!ellie at a stop light, ellie would look over at you and admires how beautiful you look next to her while she caresses your face, “you look good.”

driver!ellie if her girls are not in the car, she would facetime you both while devouring some fast food. she loves you & abby’s company even when you both aren’t there physically.

driver!ellie goes on her phone alot while driving which gives you slight passenger anxiety, but quickly changes that once you mentions it to her one day.

driver!ellie “wanna drive?” asking you with a big ass excited grin on her face.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ABBY ANDERSON

driver!abby drives a more newer car that is big enough space for her. she keeps it simple and clean with little to no decor. but religiously uses pine air scents in her vents.

driver!abby has a cute polaroid of the three of you hanging on the dash.

driver!abby greets you by saying your cute lil’ nicknames like; “gorgeous, doll, angel, baby.”

driver!abby unlike els verbal road rage, abby expresses. her frustration by loud sighing or groaning in traffic.

driver!abby bought herself & ellie phone stands on amazon when she heard your annoyance with phone in hand while driving. they even let you put stickers on ‘em.

driver!abby tells you “speed bump.. another one” when your touching up your makeup or something.

driver!abby likes the feeling of you relying on her for rides, “can i drive abs?” “no.”

driver!abby grips your thigh hard to “keep you in place” when the condition of the road is harsh but really she’s just a thigh girl (wbk)

driver!abby looks so hot when picking you up straight from gym. strands of hair sticking on her sweaty forehead, her braid messed up a bit, sports bra & shorts combo 😮‍💨

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

CAR RIDES W/ ELLABS

driver!ellabs abby often insists on driving the two since her car is bigger.. plus lots of room to makeout in the backseat.

driver!ellabs has a collaborated music playlist with a chaotic group cover pic of you three.

driver!ellabs rushes to open the door for you first like it’s a competition.

driver!ellabs ellie being too lazy to move to the back like a normal person so she just climbs to the back of abby’s clean car with shoes on. “you motherfucker,” the blonde sighs, “my bad” ellie playfully smirks.

driver!ellabs when you choose to sit in the back, you were in awe catching a rare sight of abby holding ellie’s thigh.

driver!ellabs “ladybug!” *ellie shoulder punches the both of you*

driver!ellabs carpool karaoke is always a blast.

driver!ellabs abby purposely putting her big arms behind your seat when reversing while ellie watches.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

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intimidaid · 5 months ago

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hi guys i wanted to come on here and rant about my boyfriend because he's literally my boyfriend (mha dr)

making katsuki my bf is def controversial within the mha shifter community because he's lowkey insufferable but let me explain why he's literally my man

we've been childhood friends since kindergarten. how am i friends with him? he yells at me (or others) = i yell at him. this repeats infinitely like a positive feedback loop. he has anger issues, i like triggering them because it's funny when he's angry. this eventually translates into constant play fighting

when we get our Quirks, we get more touchy, but not because of affection. his Quirk (which makes him smell like spicy burnt caramel, by the way,) makes him constantly be slightly hyperthermic. not enough to be dangerous, but enough to bother him (which is partially why he's always so irritable and angry — the boy is literally boiling alive from the inside). my Quirk is a weird mix and match of my parents' quirk, and it usually doesn't really resemble theirs, but there's one major part of my mom's quirk that i inherited; i'm always slightly hypothermic. not enough to be dangerous, but enough to bother me. the two of us quickly discover that we can balance each other out, working like an ice cube heating up from the warm tea it's in (and the tea cooling down from the ice). being at a normal temperature is very relieving when you're always on the edge of overheating/overcooling. queue almost constant casual touches; shoves, arms over shoulders, hair ruffling, and, once my self preservation is doomed enough (or when i trust him enough), even occasional hugs. just for body temperature regulation — quid pro quo, not necessarily affection. and it does calm us both down significantly.

as preteens we are literally THE delinquents. like we'll cuss anyone out, we dgaf. and if they cuss one of us out? they gotta deal with either his explosive tantrums or my own catty, bitchy one liners. or both. we don't take shit, and we'll gladly throw it right back at anyone who tries to give us any

my Quirk is overpowered but he's physically stronger and we both make it each other's problems. "shitty bimbo!" "i could literally turn you into a pancake rn" "shut up or i'll punch your lights out!" "oh noo, my pretty facee.. not like i'd just heal any marks you leave". neither of us can outdo the other because we beat each other in different areas. but we're both competitive so we keep trying over and over again — and of course, the result is different every time, so there's never a conclusive "i'm better than you"

"but his personality is so insufferable!!" but it's so much fun to challenge him.

and we actually DO care a lot about each other, mind you. not only can we both relate to everyone in our childhood swearing "you'll be the number one hero for sure!!" and then having to live up to that (which brings pressure even if we believe it), but we're just... friends??? of course we care.

so of course he pulls me into the same portal as him when the villains scatter our class at USJ, because "i know you can handle yourself alone, but i'd rather blast the shitty extras myself." and of course i follow him through the portal at the training camp when he's being kidnapped (before kurogiri warps me out of the base again and back to the training camp), because dude that's my best friend, only i get to beat the shit out of him. did i mention how his first words after getting rescued are "where's the shitty doll"? did i mention how i come running when i get the phone call?

katsuki doesn't publicly show that he cares. he won't pick me up when i fall down or comfort me when i'm hurt. what he will do, though? he'll silently hover near me when i'm vulnerable, letting me process things at my own pace while he glares at anyone who tries to approach. or he'll swing open the doors he walks through because "he's a delinquent with no manners", but only when i'm behind him, so i won't have to open the door myself.

so, is he a total asshole with anger issues to last generations? absolutely. but not to the people closest to him.

oh, and how do we start dating? denki and mina make us kiss under a mistletoe in our third year, lol.

shouto doesn't really get what i see in him, but he's happy as long as i'm happy. he does know katsuki's anger issues, though, so he makes me promise to tell him if katsuki ever shows any red flags, because he obviously doesn't want his sister to marry someone like his dad. valid!

and izuku? he TRIES to be worried... but after the first few times witnessing the way katsuki will flat-out refuse to handle me roughly and without care (outside of sparring), he just can't imagine katsuki hurting me.

touya (who survives the war and is placed under Enji's supervision in a kind of house arrest situation) claims he reserves the right to kill katsuki if the boy lays a single finger on me. excessive, but love you anyway touya-nii <3 even if the blueflame user could have my back slightly less violently...

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gigglesandfreckles-hp · 7 months ago

Note

hey, for your spotify wrapped prompts can I ask for 22, please and thank you <3

"I'm still fallin' out of love with you And I'm headin' for the door Not sure if I'll go through" Autumn's Song by Stephen Day

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“You’re forgetting one very important thing, Potter.”

Seeing that she’s stopped walking, James halts too, folding his arms over his chest. “And what’s that?”

She stands up on her tip-toes, straightening his Head Boy badge. “I’m very, very good at everything I do.” She flashes him a cat-like grin—so close, too close—, then rocks back down to the balls of her feet, and pats his shoulder. “There.” She takes a breath and shrugs her shoulder. “Anyway, I think the pumpkin carving competition is a good idea. For house unity and all that shit.”

James snorts, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “McGonagall will love it.”

“I just think you should keep in mind how very multi-talented I am,” she adds, her grin widening mischievously.

“You rarely let me forget it,” he says, smiling despite himself. “But I think it’s worth noting that I did say participants could work in pairs.”

Her eyebrow arches, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “Do you know of someone looking for a partner?”

His fingers twitch in his pockets as he fights the instinct to fidget, desperate to not give away every single implication of that particular question. “I might do.”

“What’s he like?”

“Yay-high.” James holds his hand up to his forehead, smirking. “Specs. Lots of hair. Bit of a disaster.”

“Fit?” she asks, tilting her head like she’s genuinely curious.

“Reasonably so.”

“Ah,” she says. “That’s disappointing.”

His eyebrow quirks. “You have something against reasonably fit blokes, Evans?”

She sighs lightly. “No, I was just hoping you were referring to yourself.”

James blinks, and then laughs, the sound more nervous than he’d like. “I’m not even reasonably fit?”

She looks up at him like he’s said something particularly daft. “Oh, fuck off with that, Potter.”

Her reaction only confuses him further, and his laugh tumbles out harder. “What? You just said—”

“Ego!” she cries, pointing at him.

“Ego?” He gapes at her, then freezes mid-laugh, his mouth still open. “Hang on.”

She takes off walking down the corridor. “No.”

“Hang on, Evans,” he says, easily catching up to her, “are you—”

She rolls her eyes, but the faintest smile plays on her lips. “Like you don’t know.”

Feeling inexplicably emboldened, he grins, leaning slightly toward her. “So if we’re looking at a spectrum, just how far above ‘reasonably’ would you place me on the ‘fit bloke’ scale?”

Attention from Lily has always affected him like this. Even when the attention was negative—sharp words or icy glares—he felt it deep in his chest. But now that they’re friends—now that her compliments and smiles are freely given, and frequently intended for him—his heart goes into a completely different fucking dimension.

“All I’m saying,” she says, turning back toward him, her grin cheeky, “is that just because I’m not in the queue of besotted girls clambering for a James Potter snog—I’ve got eyes, don’t I?”

She flashes him a wink, and just like that, she’s off, striding down the corridor with her usual confidence, her laughter echoing faintly behind her.

James stares after her, his heart lodged somewhere between his ribs and his throat. It’s difficult, trying to fall out of love with someone who can so effortlessly inflate and crush his heart in the span of a single moment.

He takes a practised breath, shoves his hands deeper into his pockets, and forces himself to follow after her—like it’s normal to constantly be in free fall.

#please listen to this song because it IS october 7th year jily #my fic #writing prompts #jily #james potter #lily evans

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myreallovelymind · 6 months ago

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Friday Date Night

We matched the day after Christmas. He’s different than other guys. He texts me in the morning, he asked me out pretty early, gave me a date and planned the whole night for us. He was up North in England over the holidays so I had to wait a week.

A week is both good and bad. More time to chat but also, I was worried both of us were going to imagine someone in our heads and be disappointed by the other when we actually met.

He gave me a restaurant to meet at. A dumpling place in China Town. He got us a pre-theatre menu where you get two baskets of dim sum and a cocktail. I look up the place, it looks pretty basic but he might know that the dumplings are amazing!

Turns out, right before I leave, he tells me we aren’t going there but he wanted to surprise me with where we were actually going. Surprises are both fun and not fun for me. So I do some investigating and figure out where we are actually going. Super stalker, I know!

I turn up, he’s all wrapped up because it’s cold but he has a hot man bun! We get up, I’m nervous. I want him to like me but I want to like him! I don’t believe in masking and pretending I’m someone I’m not so I’m just me. A little silly and weird but me.

We chat and eat. The drinks are great! Mid way through, he realises I’m quite competitive and tells me that he wants to see me again and if I did to, he had an idea for our second date. Clear communication or what??

I’m very dry in my humour so tell him absolutely not and I’m having an awful awful time. We have another drink and then he tells me he has more planned. He doesn’t tell me where we go which causes me stress but it’s quite fun. The meal was like 100 quid and he just pays. I feel bad but it’s also kinda hot.

He takes me to this Irish pub which is in a chapel. It’s really cool! We get two baby Guinness (which I had never had)and he orders me a whiskey & ginger beer. I insist on paying because equality, which I know he really appreciates (brownie points for me). It’s super busy and loud so we have to stand. That’s when I know I want him to kiss me or touch me.

I’ve said it before but my body tells me if I like someone or not. If I want them to touch me, especially in public, I know I fancy them. So I lean in a little and we laugh and drink. It’s so loud, so he decides we should go to stop #3.

It’s a fun gay bar. We get hot toddy’s and sit outside. We talk about our lives. The good and bad parts. Our knees are touching and he sometimes strokes my thigh with his hands. I’m getting really turned on. He chat until midnight and that’s when we get kicked out.

He likes to plan and the plan got derailed because he expected them to be open until later. I see him panic and asks me if I want to still hang out as he doesn’t want this to end. I obviously agree. So we end up going to a Jazz bar which is quite famous in London. There’s a long queue but he tells me we can cut in. He is a member so gets free entry for us.

It’s amazing there. We get more amazing cocktails and we get a seat. We are right next to each other and our legs are touching. We listen to some great music and chat some more. Then he tells me he wants to kiss me. He puts his hand onto my cheek and we kiss.

He can kiss! I find it’s either great and I want more. Or I know I don’t want to see them again. I also hate PDA but I want him to kiss me. We chat, watch and kiss periodically. We stay there until 2/3 am! Then he says he doesn’t fuck on a first date but he would love to keep chatting to me if I wanted to come over. I say only if we can continue kissing.

We get an Uber to his place where he lives alone which is always hot for some reason. I genuinely don’t think he expected to invite me back because his place isn’t spotless. It’s messy but not dirty. He makes me a tea and we chat about music as he put different tiny desk sets on TV.

We make out a lot. I’m straddling him as we kiss. Dry humping like virgin teenagers. I can see the conflict in his eyes but I keep telling him there’s absolutely no pressure from me. I’m teasing but I respect his boundaries. We get to bed at 5 am after chatting. He gives me a t shirt and honestly, getting changed in front of him freaks me out a little. It’s so much more vulnerable than being undressed mid sex.

I get into his bed and we cuddle. I never stay over. Since starting dating, I’ve done it two individual times. That’s it. We cuddle and before you know it, I’m straddling him and we keep kissing. He asks me if I wanted to fuck as he needs me. I say yes. I jump off and he gets a condom. I ride him. Fuck he feels good. He says he’s worried about finishing too soon as he’s still quite drunk. I don’t care. Never have. The tease of just a few minutes of being filled feels amazing. Probably linked to the denial. But he lasts. He’s grabbing my hips and I’m grinding.

I never quite realise I’m loud. I don’t fake, I just feel. He tells me I need to be quiet so he puts his hand on my mouth. I grab his hand. I love it. Then he asks me if I want I be gagged. Yes please. He gags me and I look at him. He tells me how hot I look and we just look into each others eyes.

He is getting close as I get lost in it. He holds onto my hips and cums hard. I collapse. We hug to sleep.

He comes cuddle me at 8:30 am. 2/3 hours after we sleep. We kiss a little and then it gets more and more intense.

Before you know it, I’m on all fours and he’s fucking me. He says I look way too hot and he’s going to cum. Quick fuck but again, I love it.

We cuddle. He orders us Mc Donald’s in bed. We go into the living room. I’m just wearing his t shirt with no underwear as they are soaked. I am super dehydrated and hangover so I’m not as wet as normal but it’s still wetter than the average gal as he mentions it.

We eat and watch TV all morning. I need to leave in 45 minutes but I need another fuck. I get back into bed and 10 minutes before I need to leave, I start kissing him. He fucks me from behind, pulling my hair and holding me. It feels amazing. Then, he tells me to ride him and calls me a good girl. I get so close to cumming, I need him to stop. He hasn’t quite understood denial or the extent that I need it. He tells me he would like me to cum but it’s okay if i don’t want to. I shake my head no, and we keep fucking. He’s getting close and I beg him to cum. It’s raw and sweaty and hot. He feels amazing. He cums, I jump off and get ready to leave. I make a joke about doing a shag and dash!

He kisses me goodbye before I run off to go meet my friends.

He likes me, I like him and he’s invited me to watch the NFL tonight at his ✌️

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juliasmesmerized · 7 months ago

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Video Games

pairings: Josh Washington x F!Reader, Chris Hartley x Ashley Brown (Until Dawn) type: fluff, too deep into the friendship, mutual pining, subtle flirting summary: Josh and Chris have gaming nights as the only 'geeks' in the group. Chris and Ashley got together and she found out of this 'secret'. Since they knew nobody else would be interested they didn't invite anyone and they knew nobody would care for it regardless. Ashley tells you about it and you join Chris's party and surprising them both. AU: sister's never disappeared, all of them are university students now too. vibes intended: cherry flavored - The Neighbourhood (I personally listen to Odetari when playing competitive games such as Overwatch which will be reference to the video game they'll be playing.) for the best experience: unfortunately we lost interactivefics, but there's another chrome extension called word replacer II; I recommend using it to have this be read in the way it was intended. I will have this on my masterlist at some point, but for now this'll be a disclaimer on every post I make. I hear when people say it breaks the immersion when using y/n and such, but I use the extension above and it gets me more excited to read. hopefully, with this, people can enjoy this piece of work and other y/n works. (i can also make a you / y/n-less version, but i just prefer seeing my name for DR purposes) word count: 2944 part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Chris booted up his computer to get into his and Josh's untimely tradition of playing video games until dawn. Their current fixation stands tall to be a five versus five shooter with each character having unique abilities and are divided into three ranks. Each team has one tank, two damage dealers, and two supports. Chris is a serious tank main while his main damage dealer teammate would be Josh. Josh may sometimes switch it up by taking up the other roles, but it was clear which one was his favorite.

Chris's phone buzzed; the screen lit up to reveal a new-found message from his gaming buddy, Josh. The chat log reads:

Josh: still up for the matches? Chris: yeah im just turning the game on Josh: ok cool i thought maybe bc ash was with u you'd forget Chris: nah bro we had a plan ill stick to it Josh: that tight bod bro, bro we're gonna lose u to it Chris: i dont have a raging libido like u josh Josh: u wound me

As soon as the game loaded up, an invite from Josh immediately popped up on the top part of the screen. He accepted and as soon as the voice chat system on the game connected he could hear screaming on the other side: "YEEEEEEAAAH!" Their names pop up on the left side corner of the screen with a speaker graphic to symbolize them speaking.

Chris's expression turned quizzical, "Josh?" the username 'c0destopher' perked up on the screen while the username 'washingmachine' never left.

Josh, still excited for having his winding down time, kept going. "We're finally doing this since we've been buried under exams. They're OVER! Let's get this party started!"

Josh chose the role queue option which allows players to pick their ranks ahead of time which ensures better play experience as everyone enters the match knowing what they want is given. Chris, without taking much time confirmed only tank. Josh decided on all roles, and since Chris was only tank, he only had the chance to be a damage dealer or support.

Chris's door swings open. Ashley, who was too engrossed in her phone, began to speak. "Hey Chris, I'm going out to the store to get something I'd need for the-" She looks up to realize the dark atmosphere with his computer screaming RGB lights that lit the room in an unnatural way. "You playing with Josh?"

His heart sank from her sudden entrance, but regained his composure. "Yeah Ash, he could still hear us if you wanna say hi." Ashley took him up on his offer and took the headphones off of Chris. She held one ear pad up to her ear to not ruin her hair, but still be able to hear Josh.

Ashley smiled as he greeted her. "What's up Josh?" Chris couldn't actually hear what Josh was telling her, the muffled sounds were whisked away by his thoughts overwhelming him. It'd only been a while back he confessed to Ashley and she excitedly accepted to be his girlfriend. It still feels surreal to him. She tucked her hair behind the free ear and began speaking once more.

"That's good, I'm well. You do this often?" Her eyes looked up unintentionally, as to focus on the conversation. She slightly nods her head from time to time.

She tilted her head and hummed before speaking. "Well, I just wanted to see if Chris wanted anything from the store." Chris's eyes were locked onto her facial features, the way she moved, and her cute mannerisms when she's talking to somebody on the phone.

She keeps nodding out of nowhere and he could hear Josh stopping to allow her to speak. "Oh! I'm getting some stuff I need for my hair, and also some snacks. I forgot some things I needed."

Josh's muffled voice perked up and Chris could hear him going on about the match about to begin. Ashley responds immediately. "The game's starting? I'll get you back to Chris." She places the headphones back on for him, trying her best not to hurt him. The character selection screen opens, but Chris looks back at Ashley as she leaves the room.

Before she closes the door after herself, she peered into the room once more. "I’ll get you some snacks, anything else?" He nods sweetly to her and she smiles and closes the door.

She got her coat from the hanger and wore it. With her purse on her shoulder, Ashley left the apartment and locked the door behind her. She placed her key in her purse, and took out her phone from her pocket. She messaged y/n asking to call her.

A few moments later, her phone rang to see a call premeditated by her own message asking for it. “You won’t believe what I just saw!” Ashley giddly spoke to the phone. She pressed the button to the elevator to signal it to open on her floor.

Her friend responded on the other side. “What happened?”

“I just saw Chris and Josh playing the game you like! This is your moment! Surprise them and join them!”

y/n audibly gasped. “What?! They used to bully me about it all the time!”

y/n continued on, this time mocking Josh’s words to her when talking about the game she liked. “Call Of Duty is the better of the competitive games and not that hero rainbow bullshit!” Her voice went sarcastically deeper and had a few ‘blah blah blah’s splattered around it.

Ashley left the elevator to walk outside. The wind gushing through her as she left the complex. “I know! That’s why I got so shocked, I thought you’d love to know that they got into it so you could tease back. Especially, Josh. I didn’t show that I cared too much so they wouldn’t suspect a thing!”

She took some time to think it through before responding. “I don’t think I should even if I want to show them for teasing me and then playing it. If I wasn’t invited then it’d look bad on me to join their group.”

“Oh come on, y/n. We both know they wouldn’t mind you playing, they didn’t invite you because it’d look badly on them for teasing you about the same game they got themselves into. I even got Chris’s username memorized for you.”

y/n relented and gave in to Ashley’s plan. “Alright why not. I’m down to cause a little bit of chaos.”

“I’ll send you everything right now.” Ashley closed the phone and looked ahead of her to cross the street. She arrived at the grocery store and went inside to escape the cold. Once inside, she opened her phone once more. Ashley spilled out everything she remembered, hoping it’d suffice.

Ashley: c0destopher#5576 y/n: thats actually so geeky Ashley: i know its so stupid y/n: birds of a feather, your username on goodreads reminds me of the one he has on the game Ashley: dont compare me to that when im doing u a favor to get closer to josh y/n: aye aye captain y/n: i friend requested him Ashley: im sure he accepts everyone y/n: and that u are right ab bc he accepted me right away Ashley: ok ill go focus on doing what i have to do update me whenever ill read when i can y/n: okay thanks ash i will let u know how it goes, stay safe

She booted up the game as she friend requested him on the mobile app. Unsurprisingly on Chris's account, it shows a new button: 'join group' and y/n had a long and hard moment of clarity set in that she's going to have to face Josh if she entered. Her face felt warmer, not that they were anything special, but he was special. She regretted relenting to Ashley's plans due to the trouble she went through getting the information to her.

She took a deep breath and entered their group. The bottom left corner displays a party chat message: unforgettable has joined the group.

Josh, not realizing the message, spoke up. "Yeah I think out of the group, y/n stands out the most, you know? The only person that has playful banter back towards me within the group from the girls. Jess and Em both would do the same, but they're too into their boyfriends so they act like they're untouchable. Sam likes to ensure I wouldn't get hurt which is sweet, but it ruins the fun. Like you could tell she's holding back for my sake."

She, who obviously entered a conversation which shouldn't be privy to her, shoved a palm onto her mic to mute it which showed her name with the speaker graphic. She didn't waste time in messaging Ashley.

y/n: I dun goofed. Ashley: what?

Chris realized first that a message showed up in their party chat that isn't accounted for and the voice chat had a third person suddenly. "Wait who is that?" She could see him using his charge attack to stun his enemy into a wall to kill them. When a friend joins a party in an ongoing game, the leftover friend spectates the match. The chat still open on her phone, y/n stayed quiet to just see the chaos begin to brew and to text Ash.

y/n: I seriously fucked up. Ashley: you gotta explain EVERYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!

Josh took a look and was at a loss. "I dunno. Did you invite them?" Josh was playing a character with double shotguns, and his character needed to creep near enemies to deal serious damage. Typical shotguns.

y/n: he didn't realize i heard him neither of them did?????? Ashley: STOP BEING CRYPTIC WHATS GOING ON??????

"No, did you?" Chris, even if nobody could see, shook his head due to habit. His character slashed his hammer at the enemy tank, dealing some okay output, but the reason for this is to create space for his team to do the damage. She realized this quite quickly.

y/n: WELL i listened to u and joined them and i joined them as josh was talking about the girls and he spoke about me saying i was the only one that stood out to him between all the girls since i give and take in his banter with us. Ashley: OMG? THEN WHAT?

Josh answered his question and was about to say something else, "no," but Chris remembered something.

y/n: heres where i fucked up, yk my mic has an external mute button where placing a palm on it would mute? Ashley: yeah so?

He spoke up. "Oh! They added me a few minutes back and I accepted." Score, he remembered her, but didn't realize who she was. She thought to herself. Josh was getting ready to use his 'ultimate' ability since he charged it to the max. y/n got more focused into the conversation with Ashley that her fingers were going to reach the speed of light.

y/n: well i kinda sorta fucked up by being so nervous after i heard what i heard that i literally kind of slapped the top part where the palm was supposed to go and they heard it and realized i was there Ashley: GIRL WHAT SO THEY DIDNT REALZE YOU HEARD THEM OHMYGDOS???? y/n: YUP IMAGINE WHAT THE HELL? Ashley: SO CHRIS KNOWS THIS ENTIRE TIME THAT JOSH THINKS YOIURE SPECIAL NAND NEVER TOLD ME? THE AUDAXITY OF THAT MAN y/n: WHAT LOL?

Josh chuckled a bit. "Why do you accept randos?" He hid on the roof of a high building on the map, then jumped down and used his ability which sent bullets in a good radius in a circular motion, killing three members of the enemy team. He was shot in the head by the enemy sniper after, and thought for a second as he respawned in game. "Kick them out?"

y/n: HES TELLING CHRIS TO KICK ME OUT Ashley: NONONONO ITS GETTING GOOD

Chris didn't skip a beat. "Sure alright."

y/n: YOUR BOYFRIENDS A BASTARD HE SAID SURE TO KICKING ME?? Ashley: SAY SOMETHING OF COURSE THEY DON'T KNOW ITS YOU y/n: OK GTG BGYE

Ashley was right. y/n had to speak up now or forever hold her peace. "WAITWAITWAIT! It's just me." She peeped as if she was a criminal, but all she did was join her friends.

Josh perked up, things were getting interesting. "y/n?"

"The one and only." Her voice getting a little more confident over time.

Chris was absolutely on edge. "How'd you get my username? What? We hid this from you for months!"

"I know! Ash told me about you guys playing. How about Call of Duty being the best game on the market for these types of games?"

Chris got defensive, he didn't belittle her for her choice of games. "Hey, I didn't say that." If anything, Chris sees himself as the most understanding in that aspect. All games could be fun if done right and with the right people.

Josh, sounding sarcastically defeated, sounded like he was raising his hands to surrender himself to y/n's beck and call. "I didn't think the game would be this addictive!"

"I'm officially inviting myself to join you." She continued, she liked how she got Josh back for belittling her.

They could hear the smile come up his face. "Our group is yours, y/n." Josh said.

Chris knew exactly what he was doing. "You couldn't have come at a better time, y/n, we were just talking about romance." He was hoping Josh would take the reins to say something witty.

She raised an eyebrow and smirked against the screen. "Romance, huh? Tell me about it, Josh. We're all friends, right?"

Josh quickly regained his composure after Chris kind of just outed him. "Chris is overdramatizing it. We were just talking about the group and our opinions on everyone."

"Yeah, right." Chris rolled his eyes.

Josh also rolled his eyes at him, he knew he was going to get him for this later. She spoke up which redirected them both back to the conversation. "Oh? What're his opinions Chris?"

Chris spoke up. "I can't share on behalf of somebody else, dear lady."

"Josh?" y/n called out into the cyber void that is their online voice chat. Their game has finally ended now, they queued up for another match where y/n also chose all roles like Josh.

The queue waiting time has begun, and Josh sighed; unsure if he should reveal the truth, but he did anyway. He didn't understand why he wanted to be honest with her even if he could've easily lied. "I was just saying how Emily and Jessica create barriers with the guys after getting boyfriends, it's not the same as before."

y/n nodded. "Mhm... And Ash and Sam?" She heard this story before, but to avoid suspicion, she decided to ask and follow what Chris might've set up.

Josh continued, the conversation being tame enough for him to ride the wave without falling off the board or having to admit something that was specifically between him and Chris. "Sam is a pacifist, we all know that, and Ash could be talked about by Chris for days."

"And..." She trailed off at first, but his words gave her confidence. He already admitted to her unintentionally and that's all she needed.

y/n thought she was being smart about it to get him to confess. "Me?" She would never admit that she heard him though, never, ever.

Josh chuckled and began to tease her. "Couldn't get to you until you rudely interrupted our conversation." Chris chuckled at the banter, knowing that was a complete lie. Josh didn't react to sound as honest as possible.

y/n bought it to keep face. "Uh huh, nice one, Mr. Washington. What a coincidence."

Josh returned. "Yup."

"A quinky-dink." y/n continued.

Josh replied, once more. "Mhm." Chris kept holding in a laugh at the awkward yet funny atmosphere that surrounded them, even if it meant he was the third wheel. y/n sent Josh a friend request ingame, which he promptly accepted.

A match started which changed the topic.

Josh directed his attention to his new friend's banner which would show her selection when she chose. "I never asked you who you played."

She sat deciding what support character she should choose. "Me?"

Josh took a second to try to understand her thought process when asking that. "I mean I play with Chris, I know who he plays."

She realizes her stupidity at this moment in time, but played it off cool. "Right...! I play everything including tank, but it seems like Chris takes the cake for that. I play whatever the team needs."

"Nice. Yeah, Chris likes playing tank." Josh slightly smiles at her comment. "Seems like you'll support our team, what shall you pick, madam?"

"I like playing based on the team when I'm support. I'll see what everyone else picks to best help the team with my choice of character."

Chris always keeps his number one choice unless the other team counters him. Where they'd play a character that makes his own completely useless. "I already know what I'm choosing."

"I'll play this guy this time." Josh decides to try the soldier.

"I see, if you play that then..." She chooses the damage boosting support and their teammate picks a main healer to focus on keeping everybody's health satiated.

Josh smugly replied to her action. "I think I see where this is going..."

y/n rolled her eyes behind the screen. "Not that I have any faith in you, but your ultimate that 100% doesn't miss, would need this to change the tides."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say."

hi everyone! i hope u enjoyed what you've read. i do wanna continue it, but im a bit busy and got too excited to keep it in the drafts, i want it to eventually end with one of them realizing their likeness towards one another. i usually do write longer chapters, 5k-10k, but i have a midterm tomorrow and i couldn't stop myself from writing something. comments, likes, and everything else is appreciated for ur friendly neighborhood budding writer. took about 2 hours to write this.

#until dawn #josh washington #josh washington x reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn josh #chris hartley #ashley brown #chris harley x ashley brown #until dawn 2024 #until dawn 2015 #until dawn 2 #fanfiction #reader x josh washington #x reader

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chobblesomewrites · 8 months ago

Text

Grumbo Professional Esports AU (abandoned work)

A collection of drabbles/scenes rearranged in chronological order featuring Team Coach Mumbo x Pro Player Grian. Warning; makes use of League of Legends/MOBA Mechanics. Unrealistic depiction of the esports scene.

No, this will not be fully written or edited. Prepare for weird pacing and incoherence. I'M JUST POSTING THIS SO I CAN STOP BEING ASKED ABOUT IT </3

—————

[ READ BELOW ]

Mumbo wasn't one for competitive games, but he had made exceptions from time to time. Those times mostly due to his online best friend wanting to drag him to experience almost anything and everything with him.

He wouldn't have even dreamed of touching MOBA games if it weren't for Grian begging him to, excusing that no one else but Mumbo was actually willing to deal with his competitive nature. He had first refused, firmly wanting to stick to his farming simulator games, but Grian knew too well how to act like a brat to get what he wanted.

So he found himself on [ ]’s tutorial screen, anxiously going through it while Grian remained in the Discord call with him, giggling at every noise he made every time he jumped from the sight of an enemy NPC.

“You lied when you said this game had a farming mechanic,” Mumbo accused his friend with a whine as he spam clicked on a highlighted enemy minion, clicking his tongue when he missed the gold.

Grian cackled, “Well, killing minions for gold is called farming. So technically I wasn't lying?”

Mumbo let out an audible huff of betrayal, which made Grian laugh even more as he tried killing his character to the minions out of spite.

—

Mumbo had thought he wouldn't be playing the game as often, for the main reason he had the game at all was because Grian occasionally didn't have anyone to play with, as he said. But he had plenty of friends so Mumbo didn't feel the need to open the game as he would probably be the last person on Grian's friendlist to be asked.

But dear lord was he wrong.

After getting bullied for his lack of game knowledge for one night, Grian kept inviting him to duo queue every single day. Mumbo would've been led to believe that Grian actually didn't have friends except for him if it weren't for their friends occasionally coming by to 5 man queue with them. But even then, that led Mumbo questioning even more of Grian's motives to specifically invite him of all people, adding to the fact that Grian apparently hated playing ADC but specifically only played it when in duo queue with Mumbo.

It was confusing. So, so confusing. Mumbo was so pants at the game yet Grian just kept inviting him nonetheless!

So, Mumbo thought; if Grian wanted to play with him that badly, he'd have to adjust his mentality to make sure that his best friend was actually having fun. He wasn't just here to keep Grian company anymore, he was here to now help Grian actually enjoy his games.

On weekday nights Grian would be too busy to get online, Mumbo used his free time to get on custom and try out other heroes outside of just support. He specifically tried mid laners in hopes to give Grian more opportunities to play roles outside of ADC, trying to prove that Mumbo was more than capable of handling himself!

He learned the map, how to invade, how to dodge, how to properly farm– everything. He needed to learn everything.

If it was for Grian, he'll take on everything.

–

[ DEFEAT ]

“....”

The call was silent, save for Grian who did horribly to muffle his laughter. Mumbo groaned in embarrassment into his hands, “Midlaning is hard,” he admitted in a mumble, which caused Grian to outright laugh into his mic.

“You didn't have to force yourself to try.”

“But you like playing jungle.” Mumbo pouted.

“Not all the time! Who on earth even says they like playing jungle?”

Mumbo sighed as he clicked off the after-game stats, returning back to their party lobby to see Grian already waiting to start the queue. The man already set himself back to the ADC role and it made Mumbo slump even more in guilt over his desk.

By some magical force, Grian probably felt his bad mood and he reassured with a smile, “I still think it's more fun if we're laning together.”

“You get to spoil me and you'd only have eyes for me!” Grian teased.

Mumbo felt himself flush red at that. Not knowing how to quip back, he simply said, “Shut up.”

–

5 man queues are always fun. It means Mumbo could just turn off his brain and listen to his friends talk and trash talk without having to say much because there's enough of them to hold the conversation together.

Mumbo was about to fully zone out while watching Grian’s character farm freely in their lane when he heard him speak up about something in their team's idle conversation on call.

“You know, I actually plan to be a professional gamer.”

From whatever conversation the call was going through, everyone in their friend group broke into laughter at Grian's admittance. Mumbo could hear Grian's pout as he tried to defend his dream, “I'm serious here!”

Their friends laughed even more, “How plausible would that even be as a job? We're just teenagers, dude. Who would wanna sign kids like us?”

Their words were obviously just trying to tease Grian, but Grian didn't take it lightly. The ADC went quiet as the friends in call continued on about how ridiculous of a scene it would be if anyone of them were to actually turn out to be

Out of nowhere, Mumbo suddenly spoke up, “I think it's not impossible.”

The conversation paused and Mumbo suddenly felt conscious of the attention on his words. Nonetheless, he continued on, “I believe in you, if you are still going to try.”

“I'll try it with you.”

The call bursted into laughter again, even Grian couldn't help but giggle, which made Mumbo feel hot in the face from embarrassment. He spent the rest of the game making so many mistakes because the entire call kept teasing him for making such bold declarations.

He was able to live through 2 games of that until the other 3 friends in their team decided to log off, leaving him with Grian. Mumbo had thought that he would log off too, but he simply clicked the queue button without saying anything, leaving

2 minutes into the queue, Grian finally spoke up, “I'm holding you up to that promise, you know.”

“You better go professional with me.”

Mumbo wonders if he's gonna regret promising that, given how ominous Grian makes it sound as if he's sold his soul to the devil. But if the devil were Grian, he finds that he doesn't really mind missing a part of himself.

–

Ever since that promise, Grian had been relentless with playing with Mumbo. Not that he wasn't always relentless before, but Grian was now determined to actually help Mumbo catch up to his level. They've even started custom 1v1s in hopes to improve.

Other people, if they were in Mumbo's position, would've been annoyed. Given how Grian tends to get frustrated eventually, Mumbo just takes it as a sign to be better. He couldn't slack.

He knew that Grian wasn't specifically frustrated at his skills, he was frustrated and anxious of the possibility that Mumbo wouldn't be able to sign with him if he didn't improve. They needed to do it together, Grian was stubborn to make sure of that fact.

So Mumbo didn't fault him for he loved him.

–

“Are you signed to a team?”

An account that was obviously a smurf had privately messaged him one time after a solo queue game Mumbo played while waiting for Grian. He ignored it, assuming that it was a scammer pretending to be a professional. He even went to quickly unfriend the account with this thought in mind and sat in the party lobby for a few minutes before a friend request came in.

“Xvoid,” Mumbo murmured out. He frowned and leaned back on his chair in thought, wondering if he's seen that username before. Probably in his other games, but Mumbo doesn't really actively pay attention to the randoms he and Grian match up with.

It was when he was about to decline the friend request that Grian joined the lobby with a very loud, “Mumbo Dumbo Bumbo Jumbo!”

“Grian,” Mumbo returned the sentiment, sounding more exasperated than excited like Grian. His friend must've realized something from that tone difference as he immediately questioned, “What's up?”

“Someone messaged me about signing to a team and now I'm trying to remember who this XVoid person is.”

Grian made a noise of surprise, “XVoid? Xisuma?”

“Who?”

“The Captain of [ ]! I thought we watched enough live streams together to know this?”

“... Grian, I only know Etho in that team!”

Grian made a noise of offense and went off on a tangent about each and every member of the team that was not Etho, scolding Mumbo for being a ‘solo fan’. Mumbo ignored him, hovering his mouse over Xisuma's friend request.

If it is the captain of that team, Mumbo can only assume that this was probably just a fan account. It didn't hurt to accept it. He's had a lot of friends in his friend list that he decidedly ignored a lot anyway. He just accepts them for the sake of filling that friend list.

With that over with, Mumbo started the queue, still ignoring Grian who was scolding his ear off.

–

Mumbo should've known there was going to be more to the friend request than he realized. What he assumed was a fan account was actually just the professional player's sub account.

Xisuma's team had taken notice of Mumbo, and even personally invited him to be their main team's support rather than simply being a substitute. Mumbo was about to disagree at first, discussing with Grian that he still wanted to play professionally with him, but Grian didn't stall him. He simply said;

"Go," and Mumbo had thought Grian hated him for being noticed by a team until he added, "I'll catch up."

And they left it at that. Mumbo signed with Xisuma's team as their support player but didn't even get to react properly that his online best friend didn't message him at all anymore as he was forced to move to a team provided account, leaving his personal one to the dust.

–

Mumbo's esports career didn't last longer than four years, but it was a good start for a while. He didn't have any experience whatsoever but his team was kind enough to help him throughout. He also found that a lot of people seem to like his awkward attitude so he didn't feel the need to upkeep a certain persona.

But with the constant change of meta to aggressive supports, his steady gameplay had no use in any team comps. It didn't help that, at every tournament, he got sadder and sadder the more he realized he couldn't see a certain username anywhere in both domestic and international teams even after a while.

Grian wasn't there. The reason he was here at all, wasn't there.

He had been moved to a substitute player midway through his career, replaced with someone more younger and aggressive in playstyle, his other teammates had also either retired or moved to better teams. The team’s management was still fond of him and he was only really kept for the fans' sentiments, but Xisuma didn't want him to live the rest of his life as a decoration, noticing the way Mumbo didn't enjoy his current status. The team they were in contract with wasn't getting any better either. They weren't going anywhere like this. Their skills could be put to more use somewhere.

They couldn't accept the current state of things when they hadn't even won a single international championship to their name. Xisuma owed Mumbo at least a trophy for signing him up for the big leagues at such a young age that he could've used the time to explore more of his life.

He had offered Mumbo two things; Xisuma would pay so he could go back to college, or he could sign to Xisuma's budding esports company for a new chance.

As a coach, that is.

Mumbo had almost been tempted to say he would rather go back to studying, but Xisuma added more to his offer that he couldn't refuse; "You can choose the team. You'll be their main coach, after all."

Mumbo remembered that someone still promised to catch up, and he'd be willing to be a coach if it meant dragging him up here.

He promised. They promised they'd go together.

For the first time in a few years, Mumbo logged back in to his old account and clicked on a familiar user on his friend list.

"Grian,"

"You there?"

–

Mumbo wasn't confident for a while that Grian would reply back. It had been a good long while, after all. Would Grian even remember him? Mumbo's sure he himself hasn't forgotten the other, but he doesn't know if the sentiments are the same.

Mumbo didn't really have the time to be too anxious about it either, busy helping Xisuma with properly setting up the company while also looking for managers and analysts to help him with forming the team.

The next time he finally checked his account again, he was disappointed when there was no message back. But one thing that gave him hope was when Grian’s user was lit up. He was online. And Mumbo could see damn well that his best friend, if he could still call him that, was actually just struggling to come up with a reply, especially when the indication of the other person typing kept popping up and disappearing over and over.

At least, with that, Mumbo knows that he wasn't fully ignored.

After a bit of waiting, he decided to give mercy to whatever message Grian is taking this long to send.

"Queue?"

And then the indication of Grian typing stopped. Then replying,

"You literally returned from war after how many and your first message is to ask to queue?? Not even gonna say hi to the kids?"

Mumbo burst out laughing. Somehow, it feels as if he never left for the professional scene and is back to his teenage self.

"How are you?"

"Got wife and kids."

Mumbo frowned at that, "Seriously?"

"No, you idiot. I'm this young and you think I'd have a kid already?"

"..." Mumbo rolled his eyes

"So what have you been doing this entire time?” I waited for you to catch up. Did you lie to me?

“Well one of us had to go to college, Mumbo.”

“Low Blow.”

“My bad.” Grian then typed, “Queue?”

“So now you’re trying to distract me by asking to play?”

“It's also been a while. I'm itchin’.”

Mumbo checked the time. He's fairly free for the rest of the day. And it's been a while since he's had genuine fun in the game, “Well, we ‘oughta scratch it!”

“Attaboy!”

–

They queue together for a while. Mumbo's old account had considerably ranked down so they were in lower elos. It wasn't that hard to win easily.

Grian was still good at the game, probably even better. He could catch up with Mumbo’s thinking, and Mumbo’s got the professional experience. One thing that bothered him was that Grian didn’t initiate a call like they always did years ago. Comms and all. Mumbo was left with Grian’s spam pinging and visual cues. Mumbo was too shy to ask about it, so he forced himself to be happy enough with Grian playing around with the emotes when they were idle in lane.

But surprisingly, when Mumbo thought they were about to log out, Grian told him to get in-game party call;

“Mumbo.” Oh, Mumbo has not heard that voice in a long time. Grian sounds less like a squeaker now. The long duration of having not spoken to each other was now extremely evident.

Mumbo forgot to greet back, and he didn’t get a chance to, as Grian spoke up again, “Why exactly did you message me again? Surely it's not to play, not when we could've done this for the past years.”

Mumbo didn’t know what to say for a moment. Would it be too rude to ask Grian about his previous interest in esports? Would that seem like he’s trying to flaunt at him or mock him?

His mouth twitched in hesitation, “Are you… still interested in going professional?”

“...” Grian didn’t reply, and Mumbo somehow felt even more desperate.

“You said you’d catch up.”

“I…” Grian sighed into the mic, seeming a little agitated, “Opportunities don't come as easily for me as it did for you, Mumbo.”

Mumbo furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Grian's little cat icon in disbelief, “...And so you gave up, just like that?”

“It wasn't just like that!” Grian defended. He sounded a little pissed off that Mumbo couldn't help but go quiet. At the silence, Pesky muttered an apology and calmed his tone, “Look, I- I really tried, alright? It was pressuring.”

Mumbo opened his mouth to ask what exactly pressured him but Grian beat him to it as he rambled on, “I lost my everyday duo to some team I couldn't even enter myself. Mum kept urging me to give up and go to college, but–” the voice on the other end cracked slightly but he took a long enough pause to steady himself, “I didn't want to- You, you were waiting, up on those big stages, looking around those stadiums like some lost little dog abandoned by their owner–”

“I was not some lost little dog!” Mumbo squeaked out in embarrassment, wondering if he really looked like that in the game livestreams, “How would you even know I was looking for you?!”

Grian’s smug smile could be heard in his tone, “I didn't say you were looking for me.”

Mumbo went quiet and murmured whinily, “You implied….”

The call was filled with Grian's giggling and Mumbo let himself enjoy the embarrassment for a brief moment before moving the topic along, “Anyway, I did say I was going to disagree to join them, but you urged me to accept it. I said I could've waited until we could sign together–”

“But you like the game, don't you, Mumbo?”

Caught quite off-guard, Mumbo gave his question a thought. He did like the game. Understanding the mechanics and strategy of it is fun. Winning a game was actually exciting since the winning conditions needed good skill and awareness to achieve, but…

He only ever truly loved playing it because Grian was there. His best friend was a part of everything he loved about the game.

Mumbo was quiet and he couldn't find it in himself to actually admit his true opinions. Grian assumed that he was just embarrassed to admit that he liked the game and decided to move on, “So it was unfair to you. I couldn't drag you down. I know we promised to do it together, but that doesn't have to cost your possible futures.”

Mumbo chewed on his lip and once again quietly asked, “But are you still interested in playing?”

“Mumbo, I never stopped playing despite,” Grian said. An indirect message admitting that; he wants to play. He's always wanted to play. He never once gave up on the dream to. He's just a little late. “I wouldn't have queued with you today if I wasn't.”

Mumbo was hopeful at that admittance and he was quick to say, “Then play for me.”

“What?”

It was Grian's turn to be caught off-guard this time, sputtering in confusion and in disbelief. Mumbo could hear him sit straight on his chair, judging by the squeaking picked up by his mic, “No, that's- You shouldn't be practicing nepotism, Mumbo-”

Mumbo made a noise caught between a whine and a groan, “It's not nepotism if it's the coach's job to assemble a team of good players,” he defended. Grian was in even more disbelief this time as he caught on as to what Mumbo was getting at.

“Coach? What happened to your original team–? They still had you as a substitute…”

“Capt– X paid for the separation fee.”

Grian’s voice raised a little, “Then who and what the hell are you coaching for?”

Mumbo took a deep breath, needing to steady himself to be able to explain to Grian the situation without making it worse, “Look, I know you said you specifically wanted to play for a well-known team and, currently, X's company is just fairly knew–”

“Oh my god…” Grian muttered, his voice was muffled like he was burying his face in his hands. Mumbo ignored him as he continued to explain.

“He invited me to be the main coach, to set up the team to how I see fit since he had trust in the way I was at least aware of what was right, who was capable– Well, not to be blunt, but I have the skills to be able to strategize for an entire time and–”

Grian cut his ramble off, “You… you didn't do all this just for me, did you?”

Yes, I did.

But, “No,” was what Mumbo said instead. “I still like the game, but I'm still not overly aggressive and competitive enough to be successful as a player, as you know.”

Silence that befell the call after that and it worried Mumbo as he didn't know if Grian could trust that reason. He was just about to continue his little persuasion when he was cut off again.

“I'm joining.”

“Before you– Wait, you are?!”

“Well, someone's gotta make sure you're not making wrong decisions! Who do you think taught you the game?! And you're planning to be the coach!?”

Mumbo couldn't even be sheepish at the underlying tone of being scolded. He was happy enough to hear Grian agree to joining even when doubt was evident in the other’s tone.

He’ll just have to show he’s capable of being Grian’s support, like always.

–

“Grian!” Mumbo had called out excitedly, approaching the man who held such a name. Maybe he was jogging more than politely approaching. Who was to blame him for being excited by the idea of finally meeting his long time online best friend face to face?

Grian’s shoulders jumped in surprise and he couldn't help but turn to look, looking even more stunned as he wasn't given time to react to the sudden hug Mumbo forced him into. His arms couldn’t find where to place itself, eventually relaxing on Mumbo’s back as he hugged back with equal eagerness.

The shorter man couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re surprisingly taller in real life, coach!”

Mumbo froze and pulled away to look at him weirdly, “Already calling me coach?”

“What? Were you actually not planning to sign me?”

Coach Mumbo winced and shook his head panickedly, “Goodness, of course we’re still planning to sign you, it’s just–” he hunched over and pouted a bit, “Isn’t coach a little too formal for us?”

Grian nudged Mumbo playfully, “Get used to it. You wanted this job. Didn’t you, coach?”

Mumbo pouted even more, slightly red in the face, “You don’t find me calling you jungler, do you?”

“I’m not signed yet so you can’t officially call me that yet,” the dirty blonde man then grinned wide, “For now, you can refer to me as darling.”

“Oh, stop it.”

–

Officially signing Grian up as the company’s first player was like a fever dream, even Grian himself would agree, and he’s had plenty of disbelieving things happening to himself. Even now when he was fully acquainted and settled into the residence provided by the team, he couldn’t believe that he was actually… what he dreamed of.

Grian glanced to his side, watching his coach scroll through some gameplay videos for possible teammates. Somehow, it felt right that the online best friend who nerds out about strategies that he can’t apply himself, was the tall man beside him.

Though honestly, Grian still expected Mumbo to be some hunched over nerd like he was. Who knew the man had not only looks and height, he had better posture than Grian.

The dirty blonde slumped in his chair and zoned out as Mumbo started introducing possible teammates, offering him options to form whatever team he wanted.

Grian didn’t listen much, still a little out of it. It is fairly weird that the coach of all people was asking the player who he wanted as teammates when it was supposed to be mainly the coach’s and the management’s job.

“Can I really pick the rest of my teammates?” He cut off Mumbo’s muttering in a familiar manner. Mumbo, as always, didn’t take offense and answered him.

“Of course.”

“And you’d support me?”

They held each other's stare longer than they should've. Mumbo broke into a smile.

“As I always have.”

–

“You’re stressing out Pearl again.”

Grian was half laying on his chair and lazily scrolling through the Grumbo tag on social media when Mumbo had come up to him with an unamused frown. Grian had half the respect for his coach to fix his seating arrangement and sat up properly to flash an innocent smile at Mumbo.

“I don’t seem to follow.”

Mumbo tugged at his hair in distress, familiar with Grian’s pretend dumb strategy. As a coach, you’d think that understanding strategies would be kept to the game, not applied even to his troublesome players.

“Sorry, let me rephrase then. You’re giving both Pearl and the PR team an extremely hard time to defend your honor.”

Grian sighs wistfully, “But you are my honor.”

Mumbo groaned and flushed red at that, “You’ve made that extremely clear with your interview!”

The dirty blonde shrugged and didn’t seem at all unapologetic. Seeing that he was once again going nowhere with attempting to horribly scold Grian, he leaned down and apologetically pecked the man on the forehead. Grian visibly perked up at that and blinked at Mumbo like he was expecting more.

Mumbo didn’t give him more, simply rolled his eyes and turned to leave, “Redo the interview tomorrow and you can negotiate for more.”

“MUUUUUUUUUUMBOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” Grian’s complaints fell to no one’s ears as Mumbo left the training room.

#grumbo #hermitshipping #trafficshipping #grian #mumbo jumbo #waffle duo #fanfic

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2baabbies · 1 year ago

Text

🖤 Knee Socks (Changbin x Reader) 🖤

Crossposted under 2Babbies on Ao3 <3

(decided to crosspost this today for all the changbin fuckers, I hope you like it 🫶🏻)

Pairings: established frenemies changbin x reader, to lovers

Words: 4100

Summary: Changbin stops by uninvited to pick up the jacket you borrowed from him. You are annoyed that he has interrupted your down time on your day off, but maybe he’ll find a way to make it up to you?

(inspired by the Arctic Monkeys song!!)

Humour + Fluff + Smut

afab + fem!reader

CWs: reader and binnie are mean and they swear at each other but they actually looove each other, playful insults are thrown around, picking on your crush to hide your real feelings??, jokes about murderers/getting murdered, gamer girl!reader, changbin projects on reader based on how she’s dressed (but they’re both down bad so it’s fine)

Smut Tags: taunting/teasing, explicit consent because consent is sexy, big dick changbin, changbin sock fetish, slight dom dynamics but reader and bin are both kind of switches in this one, changbin going down on reader, some edging, vaginal fingering, begging, praise, slight degradation, handjob, mutual/guided masturbation, dirty talk, confessions during sex

!!ATTENTION!!

Reposting this fic to other platforms, including as a translation, is expressly prohibited. Do not copy, alter, or claim this fic as your own. Absolutely no permission is given to anyone to post my works, even with credit, and this fic should only appear on Ao3 or Tumblr under my accounts. Reposting is not only plagiarism, but a direct violation of my wishes as the original writer and owner. Please respect writers and don’t steal!

Likes, reblogs, asks and comments are very welcome and appreciated <3

~~~

The fourth phone call in three minutes prompts some concern, so you forfeit your competitive match to give the caller your full attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing?” Changbin responds casually.

“I’m trying to rank. Is something wrong?”

“Rank? Christ, are you playing that stupid game again?”

“Felix is two whole levels above me!”

“… So?”

“Felix isn’t even good, he’s not allowed to be two levels higher than me!”

There is a pause on the other end and you think he may have hung up before he speaks.

“So that’s what you’re doing? Wasting your day away on your computer?”

“Why are you complaining? I went out with you and Chan last night. And I don’t have another day off for two weeks, so I have to grind as much as I can today. And fyi, you’re putting me at a disadvantage. I just left a match to answer your stupid call because I thought you were getting murdered or something. That could’ve been a win.”

“You think I would call you if I was getting murdered?”

“Yeah, I think you would. You know why? Because you’re stupid.”

“Hey hey hey, be nice.”

“What do you want? You’re wasting my precious time.”

“You stole my jacket last night, e-girl, I’m here to get it back.”

“I’m not an e-girl- wait, you’re here? Right now?”

“Wasting away in the lobby. Waiting for someone to come and murder me.”

You stand up from your chair and pad out of your room to your intercom. You hang up your phone and shout into the speaker.

“Quit loitering, shithead!”

“Fuck you!” Changbin shouts back.

You unlock your apartment door then buzz him in.

“Doors are unlocked. Your jacket is on the couch. Get your shit and get out.”

You hear him giggle maniacally as he opens the now unlocked lobby door and roll your eyes before returning to your bedroom. You quickly queue for a new match and put your headphones on. You join in immediately and the sound of Changbin entering your apartment is drowned out by the sounds of the game. You think you hear him say something from the other room but you opt to ignore him to maintain your kill streak. The match ends with a win and Changbin startles you as he speaks up beside you.

“You have an addiction, you know that right?”

You pull your headphones down and glare at him.

“Dude! What are you still doing here?”

“Look at this,” He picks up one of the many empty energy drink cans scattered across your desk, “You’re going to have a goddamn heart attack. I told you to lay off these. And your desk is a mess!”

“Shut up! Why are you in here?”

“You left your door unlocked. Not safe. That’s how murderers get in.”

You groan.

“Stop lecturing me! You were two minutes coming up, at most.”

“Yeah, but what if I wasn’t? And what if there was a murderer who was waiting just outside your door? Did you think of that, Ms. Noise-Cancelling-Headphones?”

“But there wasn’t a murderer! You’re just an idiot!”

You spin your chair towards him, clenching your fists in exasperation. He huffs and crosses his arms, his blue jacket slung over his broad shoulders. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he swallows before looking away.

“What the Hell are you wearing?”

You look down at your attire as you sit cross-legged in your gaming chair. You had expected to spend the whole day inside, so your outfit was not exactly guest appropriate but it suited your personal comfort level just fine. You are wearing a thick oversized sweater that drapes over your lap, no pants, topped off with fluffy socks that cover your legs and end just above your knees. The sweater hangs low, doing little to cover your chest and cleavage, and the socks squeeze the plush insides of your thighs. Normally you would have been more embarrassed dressing this way in front of your friend, but Changbin had not been invited into your room and you were still annoyed at him for taking up your personal time.

“What’s wrong? They’re just my pajamas.”

“You sleep in that? Fuck, you really are an e-girl.”

You roll your eyes.

“It’s comfy. And look, the socks have beans.”

You lift your leg to show the bottom of your foot, where cat paws are printed on the socks. He slaps your leg down firmly.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why? There’s beans!”

“I can see that.”

You notice a dark blush dusting his cheeks as you go to lift your leg again. This time he holds your leg down by your thigh to prevent you from lifting it.

“Would you stop that? Have some modesty will you?”

“Modesty? They’re cat socks.”

“And you’re wearing them like some sort of pervert.”

You curl up in your chair and turn back to your pc.

“Lee Know would appreciate them.”

“Yeah, he probably has a catgirl fetish. He’s your target audience.”

You glare softly at him.

“I’m telling him you said that. And there’s no audience. This is just how I dress when I’m alone.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s not supposed to be weird men in my room!”

He blinks in surprise then gapes, offended, at your words.

“I am not a weird man. Take that back.”

“You just called me a pervert. Because of cat socks.”

“I’m sorry! But don’t flash me!”

“Flash you?”

He points at your lap, and this makes you blush. All you see is the gap of bare flesh not covered by your sweater or your socks. You throw your hands up in defeat as he gestures impatiently, and his attention on your thighs suddenly makes you self-conscious. You slap your hands down to cover them.

“There! Happy?”

“Not that! You were- your legs- just don’t spread your legs open when you’re not wearing any clothes, yeah?”

“These are clothes.”

“You’re not wearing pants, and you might not be wearing underwear either.”

You scoff.

“You think I’m not wearing underwear? Seriously?”

“I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I’m not a freak.”

“Prove it.”

You peer at him.

“That I’m not a freak?”

“That you’re wearing underwear.”

“You’re weird as fuck man.”

You kick your legs up on the desk, knocking a few cans to the floor in the process. Changbin grumbles about your slobbish habits and picks the cans up, then storms out of your room. You wait a moment for him to return and when he does not, curiously get up from your chair to check on him. You spot him in the kitchen from your doorway and pause to watch him. He has his hands braced against the counter and his head lowered as he takes measured breaths. He notices you out of the corner of his eye and looks at you, his jacket is still slung over his shoulder.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

Your eyes flit over his arms, flexing as he grips the counter. Then they roam over his black shirt, tightly fitted over his biceps and abs, then down until they land on the unmistakable bulge in his slacks. You look back up to meet his gaze. He looks wrecked, watching you with heavy eyes as his cheeks burn with shame.

You jump as something falls in your room and hits the floor, bringing you both out of the silent trance you had been in for who knows how long.

“What was that?”

You shrug.

“Murderer. Ghost.”

“Ghost?”

“My apartment’s haunted. That’s why I never have anyone over.”

He laughs with a hint of strain.

“You’re funny.”

“Changbin.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll go, just give me a second,” He rasps.

You do not give him a second. You clear your throat and tug your sweater off in one quick swoop. He stares, wide-eyed, as you toss it to the floor and cross your arms. You stare back at him, wearing nothing but a comfy sports bra, your underwear, and your knee socks. The underwear are lame, not even a cute pair. They are the kind with a little satin bow, pink with faded prints of flowers and bunnies, and a small rip in the frilly waistband. There is nothing sexy or enticing about them.

Changbin’s cock strains against the zipper of his pants, no doubt aching to be released. He exhales slowly as his eyes skim over your body. He audibly swallows then looks away.

“What’s wrong? You’re acting like you’ve never seen a naked woman before. You’re not embarrassed, are you?”

He groans and throws his jacket to the floor then begins crossing the room, tearing his shirt off next in the process. You back up into your room, tripping over another discarded can then falling back on your bed. You sit up just as he enters the doorway. Suddenly, he pauses. He grips the top of the doorframe, giving you a clear view of his muscles at work. You nonchalantly check him out as he pants softly. Then, he points at you.

“You’re the devil, you know that right?”

You laugh and roll your eyes.

“I wasn’t trying to seduce you.”

“Are you trying now?”

You gnaw on your lip and eye his crotch again lazily. Then you shrug.

“Not particularly.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Look at how you’re dressed.”

“I didn’t dress to impress anyone today, Binnie. Who would even see it? Look at me, why would I wear ratty underwear and a sweaty sports bra if I was trying to look sexy? I’ve been a good girl, you’ve been the bad boy thinking dirty thoughts.”

You emphasize your statement by propping your legs up and spreading them open. He shivers and takes in the clear view of your scantily clad figure.

“y/n,” He says seriously, “I need to know before we go any further if you want this? I’ll stop the moment you ask, I promise, but I want to know before I do something stupid if you even want to keep this going or if you’re just teasing me. Because I… really want you, and I think I’m gonna lose it if we keep this up for much longer.”

You smile and respond softly.

“I trust you, Binnie. I know you would never hurt me. So whatever you want to do, you can do it to me.”

“Right now?”

“Right now.”

“Take your panties off, please.”

You smirk at his hesitant order but obey it. You hook your thumbs into the elastic of your panties and slide them off, taking your time and keeping your legs spread as you complete the process. He watches you greedily, drinking in the sight of you as you pull your bra off next. You discard both garments to the floor carelessly, then dip your thumb in the cuff of your sock and begin pulling it down.

“No. Leave those on.”

You pull your hand away, fluttering your fingers playfully and tilting your head. He finally enters the room, crossing slowly and kicking the can away when he meets it. He stops at the end of the bed. You hold your breath as he stares down at you, and watch as he reaches down to caress your ankle then gently grasps your calf. You let out a shaky breath right before he drags you to the end of the bed by one leg. You gasp as the bottoms of your thighs come flush to his knees.

He meanders fixing your knee socks one at a time. He tugs them up to hug your thighs and runs his thumbs just under the bands to touch the soft skin beneath. You shudder when he looks at you, then grabs your other thigh and squeezes both of them. Your legs quiver as he holds them open and massages underneath your thighs.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, yeah?”

You nod and he shakes his head.

“Say it.”

“I’ll tell you. But I don’t want you to stop. I really don’t want you to stop.”

Changbin falls to the floor on his knees and grips the tops of your socks, he then hikes your legs over his shoulders. You gasp and clench your fingers in the bedsheets when he dives in to lap at your pussy. You throw your head back and release a pitchy moan as he slowly mouths at you. His fingers curl to stretch the fabric of your socks and your thighs hug his face as he prods you open with his tongue.

Despite how ruined he looked and how wired he said he felt, he eats you out with an astounding amount of restraint. He rolls his tongue inside between filthy open-mouth kisses, eyes boring into yours as he makes obscenely wet noises. You are not sure if they come from his saliva or your arousal, but it makes your core ache nonetheless. You throw one hand against your forehead and slap the other down on the bed as he continues his tortuous pace.

“Changbin,” You whine, the last part of his name fading off in a squealing moan.

“Mhm,” He peppers a few kisses on the insides of your thighs and nuzzles his cheeks there gently, “What is it, baby?”

“Stop teasing…”

He punctuates his response with a long, deep, kiss right on your clit. You cry out in frustration as he smirks down at you.

“No.”

“Binnie…”

“You teased me, it’s my turn, honey.”

You huff and mewl as he resumes eating you out.

“But I… I didn’t…”

He groans, rumbling your heat as he does so. You buck your hips and moan as he begins picking up the pace, then breaks away. You whimper and glare at him as he licks his lips clean.

“Stop…”

“Do you want me to stop?” He asks breathlessly, “Or do you want me to give in to you?”

“Will you please just fuck me?”

His breath hitches at how soft and desperate your voice sounds. He shakes his head and brings his lips to your heat again.

“Why?” You cry, tears pricking as you feel yourself teetering on the edge of release.

“Shhh, patience, baby. Patience.”

You run your fingers through your hair and arch your back as you grind against his face. He finally grants you relief when he props his elbows on the bed, your thighs still straddle his face, and he pushes three of his fingers between your folds. He buries his face in your heat and fingerfucks you, continuing to do so until you climax. You can only make mindless, breathy, sounds as he stimulates you through your high. You grip the bed sheets and squeeze your thighs together on instinct, mind going blank as pleasure pulses endlessly through your core. He holds your thighs open and continues suckling at your clit, watching you fall apart from his tongue.

Slowly, he stops and lowers you on the bed. He lets your legs fall to his sides and presses chaste kisses over your thighs and abdomen. Your legs twitch and you let out a wrecked moan as your pussy throbs. His hands roam sweetly over your thighs, petting and soothing you to relax.

“There you go. Good girl. Wasn’t that worth waiting for?”

You make a short, annoyed, sound.

“You’re such a fucking tease.”

He chuckles and stands up, unzipping his slacks and pulling them down. You let your head loll to the side as you watch him. His cock pitches a tent in his boxers, standing proudly as he shucks his pants off. He takes his time rolling the band of his boxers over his length, no doubt enjoying your attention. You bite your lip as he strips himself down then kneels beside you on the bed. You run your hand over his thigh and give a teasing squeeze, then look up for his reaction.

“Mhm.”

“Well?” He murmurs.

“You’re big.”

He snorts, his cock stands proud and drips precum as he moves over you.

“Yeah. It’s a pain.”

“Not for me.”

“Oh? You can take a big dick right now?”

He taps his fingers against your pussy and chuckles when you whine and roll away. You glare over your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

“You’re still too sensitive, baby.”

“And whose fault is that?”

He rolls his eyes.

“My fault for giving you an amazing orgasm, I guess.”

“Yeah, how are you going to get your dick wet now? Stupid.”

His cock jumps and he groans softly at your chiding.

“I’m not.”

“You don’t want to fuck me?”

Your tone is more insecure than you wanted it to be, but there is no way to take it back now. Changbin’s eyes soften and he rolls you over to face him. His hand comes to cup your cheek as you avoid looking at him.

“Is that what I said?”

“No.”

“Right. Do you need to hear me say it?”

You nod shyly and he shoots you a soft smirk.

“I want you. I need you. You’re so beautiful.”

You laugh softly.

“Okay-”

“I want to make you feel loved. I want to take care of you.”

“Oh, so now you want to be romantic? What happened to the teasing and manhandling?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Well, that was when I was hungry, baby. I’m not thinking straight until I’ve had my fill.”

He leans down, hovering his lips over yours.

“Are you thinking straight now?” You murmur.

“No. You’re still making me crazy.”

You giggle and brush your nose against his.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah…”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

“Kiss you?”

You nod timidly. He chuckles as you both close the space between you and share a slow, sweet kiss. You sigh into his mouth as he pets your cheek with his thumb.

“What about now? What do you want me to do?” He asks.

“Fuck me?”

“Hah… I don’t think you’re ready for that yet, baby.”

“Pretty big talk for a guy that got hard over socks.”

“Well. They are on you.”

“Shut up.”

You kiss again, a bit more heated. Changbin melts into your arms as you pull him closer and he grinds against the crease of your hip. You giggle as he moans and chases the friction a second time.

“Can’t fit your big dick in my pussy? Just gonna hump me like a dog instead?”

He groans and raises his hips up, his cock still hangs and drags over your abdomen.

“You’re so rude. I’m being so sweet to you.”

“Gonna cry about it?”

“Would that turn you on?”

You shrug and give a teasing grind against his thigh. He curses softly and drops his head.

“Don’t make me beg, I might really cry then,” You laugh and he whimpers, “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Touch me.”

You giggle and roll away for a moment to grab lotion from your bedside drawer. When you turn back he shoves his face into the crook of your neck and lets out a shuddery breath onto your chest. You clutch his head close and kiss his forehead as he props his leg over yours. You lube your fingers then slip them between your bodies and around his length. He jerks his hips impatiently as you stroke him slowly.

“y/n…”

“Yes, baby?”

“F-Fuck…”

“You like that?”

“Mh-hm.”

He pants and pulls you closer as you work your hand around him. He curses and throws his head back to gaze up at you. Your touch slows as you watch his lips part in a small whimper.

“Please,” He breathes, “I’m so close.”

“You’ve been such a good boy.”

He nods and cries out in frustration as you slide your hand up his abdomen. You scratch your nails over his chest and gently direct him.

“Wanna come? Go ahead, Binnie. I want to see you touch yourself.”

He makes a choked noise and leans up to brace himself over you.

“That’s not fair,” He takes a shuddery breath, “I helped you.”

“I am helping,” You pout, “What? Are you saying you can’t get off? This isn’t enough for you?”

He looks down as you dip your fingers between your legs and play with your clit. He curses at the soft sounds that escape your lips. He steals another kiss and slowly begins stroking himself over you. You giggle and murmur quiet encouragement against his lips as you lazily pleasure yourself.

“Wanna come, Binnie? Wanna come on my pussy?”

“Y-es…”

He kisses you again, hard, as his movements become faster and uncoordinated. You cup his cheek and allow the fingers between your legs to graze absentmindedly over your sex. He slowly breaks away and gazes into your eyes as he works himself to release. His eyes fall shut and he groans your name.

“Come on, baby. You’re almost there.”

“Fuck,” He gasps.

He jerks himself through his climax, moaning desperately as he spills his cum over you. You watch his expression intently as milky streaks fall over your abdomen and crotch. You glance down and spread the sticky substance between your fingers, then look back at him. He watches you through fluttering lashes and pants into the shared air. Then, he smirks and leans down to share a wet kiss. When you part he kisses your cheek then collapses on top of you, nuzzling your neck.

“I love you.”

You scoff.

“I make you jerk off to me once and that’s all it takes for you to fall in love? You’re pathetic.”

He whines in protest.

“I loved you before that, bitch. And, I’ve jerked off to you many times-”

“Ugh, you freak…” You respond with no animosity.

He laughs breathlessly and heaves a tired sigh. “I mean it. And not just the masturbating part.”

You snort and listen to his labored breath slow then settle into a tranquil rhythm before breaking the silence.

“I know. I love you too. Even if you get turned on by socks.”

Changbin laughs and squishes his face against your cheek. You turn your head and press a loving kiss to the bridge of his nose.

“Shut up.”

��Make me,” You mumble before granting him another kiss.

“Mhm… I will… later.”

You gasp as he goes to pull you closer and gently keep him at an arm’s length.

“Ah, I’m dirty.”

“Yeah, you are.”

You laugh then make a disgusted noise as he pulls your hips together and kisses your neck. You melt into his arms and let him cradle your head to his chest. You sigh and nose sleepily at his shoulder.

“You better clean me up.”

“M’yeah…”

“M’serious…”

“Mh-hm…”

You relax and doze off embracing each other.

You wake again hours later. No light peeks in from the window, the only thing illuminating your room is your desktop screen. The red numbers of the 24-hour clock beside your bed tell you that it is midnight. You fight your way out from where you are tightly tucked into bed. Changbin’s shirt covers your figure as you sit up then slip out of bed. The shirt falls just above the top of your knee socks, leaving a sliver of skin peeking out. You finally notice Changbin, seated in your gaming chair and just wearing your headphones and his boxers, focused on the game playing in front of him. He has cleaned up the desk and his jacket is folded neatly over the back of the chair. You watch in silence then tiptoe over as the match finishes.

“What are you doing?”

He jumps and throws his hand over his chest as he looks at you.

“y/n!”

“Why are you playing my game?”

“... No reason.”

You take the mouse from him before he can queue and open your profile. He smiles sheepishly when you gape at your stats.

“You brought me up five levels?”

“Did I?”

“I didn’t know you could play.”

“What, you really think Felix leveled up all by himself?”

You blink as you process his words then grin and fall into his lap. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and kiss his cheek.

“Thank youuu.”

“Don’t thank me, just get better so you don’t have to play so much.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault! All my teammates suck.”

“Mhm, that’s what they all say.”

You roll your eyes and rest your head on his chest.

“Still, I appreciate it.”

“Do you?”

“Mhm.”

“Wanna show me how much you appreciate it?”

You smirk.

“Yeah. What do you want me to do?”

His thumb glides down your clothed leg then back up again.

“You don’t have to do anything, baby.”

“I don’t?”

“I’ll just let you have this seat and then I’ll take care of the rest.”

You stand and watch him rise then turn to fall to his knees as you fall back in the chair. He smirks and pushes his shirt up out of the way, then draws your legs over his shoulders.

#stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x y/n #skz x you #stray kids x you #changbin x reader #changbin x you #changbin x y/n #changbin smut #stray kids smut #skz smut

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antinfront · 5 months ago

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community episodes i want

Abed is giving another study group member a driving lesson so they can get their liscence. They hit a famous sitcom star (Jerry Sienfeild, Jennifer Aniston etc) with their car, and the star gets amnesia. When Abed asks them about the show they were on they say the don't know what he's talking about; Abed has a daylight savings breakdown. The rest of the episode is spent trying to relive moments from the show so the star remembers.

Troy and Abed (with the help of their producer, the dean) convert Troy and Abed in the morning into a podcast. Chang is a guest on the first official podcast episode. The whole episode is them recording the podcast in the study room with extras and some study group members creating a plotline in the library outside via mime.

Abed tries to cast for a British version of community. Jeff is on the casting panel and while he is uninvested from the process at first he gets intensely invested as the episode goes on. The Dean auditions for Jeff. Eventually, Jeff has to be kicked off of the casting panel because he's become too controlling.

Troy and LeVar return to Greendale closer than ever before. Abed is insanely jealous and with the help of Annie tries multiple sabotage tactics so Troy will abandon LeVar. Troy and Abed end the episode with a heart-to-heart where Troy tells Abed he still means the world to him no matter who else he is friends with.

There is a big red button in the study room when the group enters. The study group debates whether or not to push the big red button. In the middle of all of this the door to the study room (which is open) dramatically and magically slams shut and upon Britta's inspection is locked. Queue Abed making a joke about them having yet another bottle episode. The study group is divided. Abed, Troy and Britta are convinced if they press the big red button the door will open, or whatever weird experiment they are in will at least end. Shirley and Annie acknowledge that it could be the solution, but also fear for what potentially bad things could happen to the group if the button is pushed. Jeff will not stop flip-flopping back and forth between the two camps as they both try convincing him to join their side.

Abed (after Troy leaves) holds try-outs for the role of his new best friend. He narrows the first inital batch down to three people: Annie, Garrett and The Dean. Annie is absolutely outraged she even has to compete with the two of them for a position that should obviously go to her. Britta is also outraged because she didn't make it into the final three. Trials for who gets to be his new best friend take up the episode, with Britta heckling and attempting to sabotage the events.

The study group all attend a chilli cook-off, minus Jeff. He kept trying to steer them away from the plan saying watching cook-offs was a boring pass time, it was too far of a commute for all of them etc. In the end, the group decides to go without Jeff, but to get him off their backs (cause for some reason he REALLY hates chilli cook-offs now) they don't tell him they'll be attending. When they arrive to the cook-off Jeff is one of the competitors. Thankfully, they don't spot him. Hijinks ensue where Jeff has to 1. Nail the competition he's been prepping for for MONTHS and 2. Hide from his friends. It somehow doesn't compute with Jeff that THEY SUGGESTED attending the cook-off, and they wouldn't make fun of him for competing in it, but he is ego man 1000.

Troy watches High School Musical "as a joke" when Abed's out of town on vacation, and he falls in love with it. He convinces himself he has to hide his love of HSM from the study group in order to keep their respect (which isn't half wrong). Abed regularly calls Troy to update him on his vacation, and during these calls Troy has to think of something to update him with that isn't High School Musical related. ("Abed only likes REAL movies Troy, get it together") At some point early in the episode, he gets found out by Britta, who reveals herself to be a fellow devoted HSM fan. She takes him to her place and shows him her HSM shrine. They binge, they hang, they sing. The friendship grows strong. Then the shame sets in. Troy thinks he's cheating on Abed with Britta, and she's essentially his best friend side piece equivalent. Abed calls Troy while he's at Britta's place rewatching High School Musical. Again, he's trying to hide this all from Abed. Abed asks what's going on and Troy caves, telling him everything HSM and Britta related. Abed gets back from his trip the next day with signed Zac Effron headshots and asks Troy if he wants to show him HSM that night. Although it's not necessarily his cup of tea, he watches the whole thing with Troy because he knows just how much a movie can mean to someone.

#community show #community nbc #abed nadir #annie edison #britta perry #shirley bennett #jeff winger #troy barnes #high school musical #dont ask why i picked hsm as the movie ok #i could not tell you what was going on in my noggin when I wrote that one #is some of this wildly ooc? yes #do i care? no #Ant blabbers on

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rztaros · 1 year ago

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: love 2 hate me

synopsis. oh, how you hated the ares’ daughter so bad, you wish you could never see her again. though, it seems as you encounter her more and more, you begin to see her in a different light. pairing. clarisse la rue x hades daughter!reader genre. fluff wc. 4k+ in queue. bags by clairo, hydrangea love by tomorrow x together, but not kiss by faye webster, && snooze by sza . . . 💿 notes. 💬 lowercase intended, maybeee ooc clarisse idk, and reader is close friends w percy

how to help the palestinians. brands to boycott support the people of palestine w/ shams akel moveon petition to pres. biden donate esims to gaza

there are around 170,000 words in the english language, yet you were unable to string any of them together to express how much you wished you could never see clarisse la rue ever again. you wished you could just hit her with a chair, and hopefully splitting her head open. there was never once a moment where she was not difficult.

everything clarisse could do, you could do better—well, that was what you thought at least.

of course, you despised her, and she despised you.

clarisse, most of the time, enjoyed the competition and the rush she received whenever you and her were contended against each other. she even liked the look on your face every time you lost to her and the pride that'd engulf her.

that unbearable grin, along with her vicious, boisterous laugh she'd hold every time you lost to her. often, your facial expression garnered a snicker from her, one that replayed over and over again in your poor head.

there was barely a chance you'd ever have to work with clarisse, let alone have to talk to her, you thought. however, you were proven wrong, very wrong.

"can you stop speakin' just for one minute? you're giving me a headache, gosh," you'd groan, gradually losing focus on the primary task. rolling your eyes, you'd shoot a sharp glare at the ares' daughter, your face not indicating any kind of amusement.

she'd scoff, taking a step closer to you, her eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips. her gaze, piercing and intense as ever, bored into yours. it was as if her gaze was a magnetic force, luring you in.

for a moment, it'd seem you'd see clarisse in a different light. as much as you hated to admit it, she was attractive. her eyes held a devilish stare that you could get lost in.

clarisse seemed like some sort of corrupted angel, almost supernaturally beautiful, and she was unnervingly unforgettable.

the task you were once immersed in, was now long forgotten as you'd roll your eyes once again. cursing her over and over again inside your head, you'd try to bring your attention back to the task. who knew you would be paired up with clarisse, the absolute bane of your existence?

"you don't have to pretend you hate me so much, sweetheart," clarisse drawled, her eyes just as stunning as she was, "c'mon, just admit it," a sharp, vicious chuckle escaped her. what irked you most wasn't clarisse herself, no—it was her knowledge of you. it was like she knew you were never one to back down from a challenge, more so, if it meant you'd beat clarisse la rue.

clarisse, who you have barely ever started a "regular," friendly conversation with, somehow managed to wring out every drop of patience inside you. "gods, you're just as weak as i thought you were, y/n," she'd tease, flashing a faint, sleazy grin at you, and in contrast to her grin, you'd scowl at her gestures.

sighing, you'd try to avoid clarisse's actions, your eyes flickering to the fields, far from the two of you. as you looked out afar, noticing a figure who seemed to be a guy, clarisse would speak up, snapping you out of your trance, "stop lookin' at that guy, and pay attention, jeez," she'd murmur. her voice was distinct from the rest of the times she spoke to you—she sounded vulnerable, weak even.

"what, you jealous, la rue?" you'd retaliate, now having that same grin clarisse once wore. you'd snicker, clearly amused by the girl's gestures.

you'd notice clarisse's eyes widen, just for a small moment, as if she had something to hide. she'd quickly become defensive, snickering, "what would i even be jealous of? the amount of times you've lost to me? yeah, for sure," clarisse would argue.

just nodding at her defensiveness, you'd dismiss the situation—maybe you were just reading into things too much. though, her shift in demeanor was drastic. nonetheless, you'd just ignore it.

there was an unexplainable feeling clarisse experienced as she stared at your figure, her gaze deep. as much as she thought you were infuriating, you were irresistible, even for her. she knew as much as you were different from the rest—never backing down from a challenge when it involved her— she won't think about you at all, she wouldn't allow herself too.

as you two trailed down the fields, you'd pull clarisse to a spot crowded with flowers. "get me a few flowers," you'd murmur blandly, crouching down to admire the rows of hydrangeas. your eye would glisten at the sight of the prosperous, radiant petals.

clarisse scoffed at your demanding tone, "flowers?" she questions, eyebrows furrowed and knitted together. "never thought you out of all people liked flowers."

the nerve of this girl, you thought, your face morphing into one of judgement, "what do you even know about me, la rue?" you'd tut, watching the ends of clarisse's mouth quirking up, forming a gleaming grin—one you wish you could just get rid of and never see again.

her gaze would fixate on the flowers, and, she'd huff, begrudgingly crouching down besides you. her face was excruciatingly close to yours, inching closer by the second. her sinfully intoxicating aura encases you, "calm down, jeez, sweetheart," the nickname rolled off of her tongue smoothly.

your palms push against her chest, eyes darting everywhere but clarisse's unbearable grin, "just get me the damn flowers," you'd mutter, stepping back as you realized the proximity between you two. she'd chuckle softly at your embarrassed state, shifting her focus back to the flowers.

as you observed them silently, so did clarisse, her gaze never leaving the hydrangeas. clarisse would bring her hands to a selection of hydrangeas that were about to bloom, and trying to be as tender as she could, she'd pluck them.

clarisse would shove the flowers into your arms, rolling her eyes, "happy now?" she'd question as she looked in your eyes for any signs of content—not that she wanted your validation in the first place.

you'd let out a giggle, beaming an animated smile, gazing at the hydrangeas adoringly, "very much so."

"you ever gonna pay me back?" clarisse would question, wiping the dirt off of her hands, and stuffing them into her pockets.

there it was again, a moment where clarisse was somehow unable to shut up.

"already askin' me on a second date? how romantic, la rue," you'd bite back, rolling your eyes.

clarisse would swivel her body towards yours, "oh, don't be so conceited," she'd remark. you'd mumble a curse under your breath, getting up from the ground, and quickening your step.

as soon as you were out of view from the ares' daughter, the expression on your face loosens, now holding a smile you fought back when you were with clarisse. how could clarisse, out of all people, make you smile and feel as if a weight shifted off of your chest?

that awfully interesting girl sure made your heart tremble at just the thought of her.

"next week, same time," clarisse would shout from afar at your disappearing figure, a wide grin plastered on her face. it felt like a whole new sensation for her; to want to see you again, and even more, even though you've just left.

while at the dinner pavilion, you'd converse with percy, dissolving into giggles and laughter. you'd take a bite out of your meal every once in a while, too immersed in percy's stories.

whenever you hung out with percy, it felt like a breeze; you two were able to connect with each other, and understand each other while both being forbidden children. he acted like a little brother to you, and you didn't mind at all.

afar, a not-so-exhiliterated girl stared into the oblivion, her jaw clenched—that girl was clarisse, of course. just the sight of you and percy together made her mouth run dry.

leaning against a pillar, clarisse would roll her eyes at the two of you. she wished she wouldn't have to listen to you and percy laughing loudly. clarisse would cross her arms, a few of her siblings besides her chatting about who-knows-what.

there was no way you were laughing at percy's jokes, clarisse thought. she didn't think he was that funny, so why were you practically hyperventilating as you laughed at his jokes?

soon, one of her siblings would notice, "what's got you so upset? you can't even stand y/n, let alone talk to her."

"because they're so fuckin' loud—she was laughing so loudly, i mean what could he have said that made her clutch her sides like that!" clarisse would blurt out, her eyes narrowing as she'd try to catch a better glimpse of you and percy.

as you got up, going to get a refill of water, you'd pass by a solemn, stoic clarisse. she'd stare at you in silence, almost as if the world only revolved around the two of you. her eyes were hooded, scanning your facial expression for any indications.

just as you were about to round the corner, the daughter of ares' would obstruct the pathway, her arms crossed and her thumbs pointing upward.

"get out of my way, la rue," you'd mutter, sending a glare at clarisse.

a chuckle would escape from clarisse, as if everything was a game to her. "calm down, pretty girl, no need to be so cruel," she'd remark, her grin wide.

you'd stare at clarisse for a moment before looking away, pressing your lips together. "don't bullshit with me, clarisse," you'd retort, your tone as sharp as ever.

clarisse's eyes were etched on your lips, a broad, lingering smile on her face. "relax, i was just gonna ask if you're still up for this week." she'd chuckle, noticing your tense demeanor. "i would've already told you if i wasn't going, so move out of my way," you'd grumble, rolling your eyes at clarisse's infuriating gestures. it was like clarisse was always besides you in some way, annoying you just for the fun of it.

with clarisse's eyes sparking with amusement and the corners of her mouth curling upward, she'd glide effortlessly out of your way but not before patting your shoulder, squeezing it just a bit.

by far, clarisse was one of the most aggravating person you knew.

"sooo… what are you doin'?" clarisse's irritating, yet captivating voice rang through your ears. your eyes would follow her as she'd plop herself smugly besides you on the bench.

your gaze would be fixed upon the lake, barely noticing clarisse besides you despite the warmth you felt while besides the girl. as you spoke up, it was barely audible, "just lookin' at the lake, la rue." as much as you wanted to scoff at clarisse currently, you couldn't.

she'd nod, her eyes accompanied with a warm and understanding gaze—one you were stunned by. nevertheless, you'd flash an awkward, crooked smile at the girl. the silence between the two of you was new. usually, either you or clarisse would start up banter, arguing with each other left and right, no matter what; it was like your guys' dynamic.

clarisse would inch closer to you, making you hyper aware of every little movement she made. the closer she was to you, the more it was difficult for you to conceal your nervousness.

how could you be this nervous with a girl you're supposed to despise? it made no sense for you to be nervous, as you did despise clarisse, but there was something that always lured you back to the daughter of ares'—something unexplainable.

you could almost feel your heart jumping out of your chest when clarisse turned her head, meeting your gaze. her eyes locked onto yours, and her focus shifted.

her eyes would subtly trace contours of your lips with an unspoken curiosity. the proximity between the two of you created a magnetic pull, drawing the both of you in.

the faint hovering of her fingers on your knuckles only caused you to shift in your seat. knowing if you leaned forward, you two would be entangled in each other, so you'd try your best to refrain from doing so. your mouth ran dry just from the sight of clarisse this close up.

as soon as you heard a scream from afar, you'd snap out of your trance, your hands flapping up to push clarisse gently enough to make sure it didn't look like you two were entangled with each other.

it'd take you a few minutes to settle down, as your breath was heavy. you'd ignore the way clarisse would complain about being shoved "harshly" for no apparent reason, despite the fact you were gentle with her.

you'd frantically mumble an incoherent excuse, suddenly getting up, and sprinting away from the girl, leaving clarisse with a dumbfounded expression. as soon as you reached your cabin, you'd plop onto your bed, rubbing your temples.

as you sank into the mattress, your mind would instantly be swarmed with thoughts about clarisse and the previous encounter. you'd grunt, wishing you weren't like this—wishing you didn't have to think about the frustrating, yet glorious girl.

with a distant gaze, you'd stare at the ceiling, lost in contemplation with a subtle smile on your lips. a soft sigh escaped from you, and you'd glance over at the hydrangeas, the very same ones clarisse handed you.

as your eyelids grew heavy, the quietness of the night enveloped you. the tension in your body gradually melted away, as the rhythmic rise and fall of your chest signaled your peaceful slumber.

the next few days pass, and you couldn't help but feel pity for clarisse. every time you'd look her way, it'd seem as if she was sulking. as much as you wanted to tease her, you just couldn't bring yourself to.

inevitably, you'd just avoid clarisse, trying to give her space. and as you avoided her, the curly-haired girl avoided you as well.

today was no difference. you'd be training with percy, reveling in the jokes the boy would crack up in between breaths.

sure, you enjoyed his company, especially on days like these, but nothing could fill in the clarisse-shaped hole in your heart. nevertheless, you'd feel somewhat a weight shift off your chest as you practiced with percy.

once the two of you were breathing heavily, hyperventilating, and barely able to move, you both would lay on the ground, paying no attention to the sounds of swords clashing from afar.

as you looked around the crowd of campers, only one camper caught your eye, and it was clarisse, of course.

clarisse was a sight—even when she was fuming, she was drop-dead gorgeous. from her dark eyes to her brawny form, her beauty emitted resilience and allure.

no matter what facial expression she wore, it'd seem as if you were drawn to all her features. you’d say her beauty and determination was what left an inevitable impression on you, but you knew there was much more than that; after all, clarisse was practically the girl of your dreams, but you couldn’t admit that—not when you both held the relationship of supposedly hating each other.

staring into the oblivion, your eyes were practically beaming with infatuation for the daughter of ares'. percy would nudge you playfully, snapping you out of reality, as he spoke up, "y'know, you could just talk to her, right? i mean, i know she's not the best person to be around, but i'm sure you'll be alright," his tone as optimistic as ever.

you'd scoff, "what would i even say?"

in response, percy would just shrug, "go with the flow or something." and with a huff, you'd take percy's suggestion, heading on over to where clarisse and her siblings practiced at.

you'd stuff your hands into the pockets of your jacket, slowly taking steps to clarisse's direction. each step carried reluctancy, and you'd glance at the ground, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze.

approaching clarisse, her back would be turnt towards you, and just like anyone who had a death wish, you'd tap on her shoulder lightly. she'd snap her head to you, her breath ragged.

"what do you want?" clarisse would mutter, her voice not as dry as she wished it were. rather than it coming out as a demand, it'd come out as a vulnerable mumble—one clarisse wished she could dispose of herself.

you'd take a step back from the curly-haired girl, giving her some space. "just… wanted to talk," you'd mumble as you watched clarisse's face contort into a faint smile. though, as she realized she was smiling, she'd immediately wear a dull, stoic expression.

"then talk," the daughter of ares' grumbled, her arms crossed against her chest.

"just… wanted to say sorry for the other day, clarisse." you'd mumble, glancing at the ground, as you waited for clarisse to speak up, or at least nod, she'd look at you, her expression dumbfounded.

clarisse would raise an eyebrow, as if she was suspicious you were playing a cruel trick on her, "you're really apologizing to me?"

"what else does it look like, la rue?” you'd mumble, rubbing your temples. even when you felt sympathy for the girl, you couldn't help but roll your eyes at her skepticism.

as much as clarisse wanted to be mad at you, wanting to just shove you out of the way, just like how she did with percy, she just couldn't. it was like everything was different with you; everything with you was like a breeze, even if she constantly teased you.

"so you really are apologizing to me," clarisse would inch closer to you, her lips tightening into a thin, unwavering line. her gaze would bore down, almost as if to challenge you.

for a few seconds, all you could hear was the deafening, unbearable silence that followed.

"i guess i forgive you," clarisse would mutter nonchalantly, though her attempt to be nonchalant was shattered by the subtle grin she held and the twinkle in her eyes.

glancing up at clarisse, your eyes would widen in sheer disbelief. clarisse, the same one who was short-tempered, forgave you and didn't hold a grudge against you. speechless, all you could do was close the distance between the two of you, pulling clarisse into a heartfelt embrace.

with warmth radiating off the embrace, clarisse would huff, wrapping her arms around your waist. her gaze would soften at the sight of you burying your head against her chest, almost as if you were eager to hug the curly-haired girl.

breaking the silence, clarisse would speak up, "never thought i'd be huggin' you," she'd chuckle. you'd roll your eyes, grumbling against her chest, "never thought so either."

despite clarisse knowing she should let you go, she doesn't; instead, she holds you tighter by the waist, as if you were gonna escape out of her grasp. she savors the moment, uncertain whether or not you two would return to the bickering the next day.

lifting your head up, you'd notice the way clarisse's eyes glimmered with warmth and compassion. gradually, you two would let go of each other. clarisse would rub your sides, her touch tender-like. your cheeks would heat up at her warm touch, and you'd beam a gentle smile at her.

the fact you were meant to hate the curly-haired girl was long forgotten, and now, all you could think about was how tender she was towards you.

realizing evening was soon approaching, clarisse would whisper, "it's getting late. maybe i could walk you back to your cabin, y'know—just for safety."

you'd raise an eyebrow at the girl wanting to walk you back for "safety," knowing she just wanted to walk with you to talk to you more. however, you'd nod, a quiet chuckle escaping your throat.

clarisse would flash a sly smile at you as the two of you walked side by side together. as the both of you were met by the door of your cabin, you'd plant a chaste, quick kiss onto clarisse's cheek. you'd enter your cabin, leaving the daughter of ares' flustered, yet love-struck.

as the sunlight filtered through your windows, you'd wake up with a groan, groggily sitting up. by the time you were barely awake, your ears would ring at the sound of knocking against your window. you'd groan again, wishing you could have a moment of silence till you saw clarisse through your window.

from your view, all you could see was clarisse clutching something you couldn't depict in her arms. as you'd slide your window open, you'd be greeted by the daughter of ares standing firmly in front of you. you'd groan, rubbing your throbbing head. even tired, you couldn't help but giggle at the sleazy grin clarisse wore.

as you scanned clarisse's figure, your gaze would be on the bouquet of flowers the girl held in her arms. "had good dreams, pretty girl?" clarisse drawled, as she climbed into your bed. noticing your sleepy figure, she'd ruffle your hair.

you'd nudge clarisse's shoulder playfully, grabbing the arrangement of flowers from her. as you admired the different kinds of flowers wrapped, clarisse would await your reaction; she was unsure if you loved them, or if you were disgusted. the daughter of ares' hoped it was the former, her eyes scanning your facial expression.

you'd release the bouquet of flowers, and suddenly wrapping your arms around the curly-haired girl's neck, the distance between the two of you barely an inch. "never thought you'd be the type to give flowers," you'd whisper, a throaty chuckle escaping from you.

clarisse would push forward, pulling you in closer. your noses were now touching, and all you could think about was clarisse's beauty. her fingers would caress your waist, rubbing your sides.

as you close the gap between her lips and yours, pure ecstasy ran through clarisse's veins. your lips would be smooth, falling apart at the brush of clarisse' lips, welcoming her as her fingers grasped your hips. it's like heaven on earth, and clarisse wished she could have you by her side every second of the day. she wished only she could have the privilege to kiss you whenever she wanted.

clarisse never expected the two of you to be together, and she doesn't even know how it happened. she never expected this to be more than what she thought it was—merely a game, and a way to bother you every day, but here she was, barely able to keep her hands off of you.

pulling away, you'd feel clarisse's hot breath hitting your lips. the daughter of ares would cock her head to the side, her lips slightly downward as she groaned, "c'mon, sweetheart, just another kiss."

you'd roll your eyes before planting a kiss onto clarisse's cheek. giggling at her antics, you'd mumble against her neck, "so, is it safe to say you're my girlfriend now?"

a low, throaty chuckle escaped clarisse's lips, carrying a hint of amusement. her laughter would leave you confused. to you, her chuckle was a soft melody. "you're really gonna ask me that after we've just kissed?" clarisse would raise an eyebrow.

"shut up," you'd lament, your palms placed flat against her chest. her eyes were etched on your lips, as she suppressed a cocky grin at the way your eyes dimmed at the sight of her façade.

clarisse pulled you closer again, giving you nothing but teasing glances for you to initiate the kiss. indulging in the curly-haired girl's antics, you'd softly press a kiss onto her lips. "can't believe you're this clingy," you'd tease, flashing a grin at the girl. again and again, you'd press kisses onto her lips, and each time, clarisse would savor the moment.

you couldn't help but let out soft giggles at the simple, utterly ironic thought of the daughter of ares tempting you like a sinner but treating you like an angel.

the effect she had on you was everlasting, just like how it was when you two first met. and to be able to kiss you whenever, was a dream clarisse finally fulfilled.

tell the truth, i look better under you

i can't lose when i'm with you

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x fem!reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse la rue fluff #dior goodjohn #pjo tv show #pjo series

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